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btsgotjams27 · 5 months

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Sweet Tooth ~ JJK | 6

✨ title: sweet tooth | series (ongoing) ✨ pairing: vampire!jungkook x donor f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ ✨ genre: vampire!au, supernatural!au, eventual romance, slow build, eventual smut ✨ summary: Bills and rent are piling up, so your roommate suggests you look into a gig she stumbled upon. But it's not what you expect. OR ✨ Jungkook runs a vampire blood bank, and you service clients with your blood. ✨ playlist | ✨ read on AO3 | Wattpad ✨ a/n: hi all! i'm SO SORRY that it's taken me over a year to get out another chapter. i'm a clown thinking I could work on multiple ongoing series at one time. i hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think.

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ~ the 200

✨ chapter 6 ~ the sinner | word count: 7.2k warnings: blood drinking, vampire bites, mentions of dead bodies and blood, kissing, touching

Dreams can bring out one’s deepest desires or darkest fears.

Jungkook couldn't determine if this dream was real or not. The dream had an ominous sense to it, like a dark cloud towering over him, ready to rain on his parade. But there was no sign of the parade. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He rolled onto his stomach, his duvet hardly covering his bottom half. A smile crept on his face as he reveled in dreamland. The feeling of the dream shifted once he got back into the thick of it. Warm. Fluffy. The complete opposite of Jungkook’s nature.

Giggles and kisses filled the room. Limbs entangled, lips swollen, messy hair, and clothes scattered everywhere. The two of you had been like this for days on end.

Jungkook’s arm is draped over you, pulling you as close as he could. Removing your hair, he trails kisses from your shoulder to your nape and finds the most delicate butterfly he’s ever seen. His fingers ghosted over the ink on your skin, making you shudder underneath his touch.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” More giggles erupt from your lips as you squirm.

His soft lips press against the butterfly. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” Taking his time, he explores the fragility of it—the fine lines of the wings, even the shading is light-handed and refined. “What else are you hiding?” he asks, fingers trailing down the dips and valleys of your body.

“I’m not hiding anything. Maybe you’re too busy paying attention to other parts of my body.” You smirk, looking over your shoulder. Jungkook’s hand grips your waist, then starts to wander across the expanse of your stomach, down to your core. You pull away from him, protesting that you need something to eat, otherwise, you’ll starve to death.

“Mm–don’t go, please,” he objects, pouting with his doe eyes.

“Jungkook, I know you hear my stomach growling with your supernatural hearing. I need food in my belly or I’m going to become the monster.”

You playfully push him away as he tries to give you another kiss. Grabbing his shirt from the ground, you slipped it on, draping it over your body with nothing underneath.

He grins, cocking an eyebrow, watching you walk away from him. Swiftly, he brushes past you, arms up, blocking the doorway. The two of you were now having a staring contest.

“I’m hungry too,” he says, his dark eyes raking over you from head to toe. The veins around his eyes protrude, letting you know what he desires.

“You already ate me out earlier,” you remind him, taking a step forward, but he doesn’t budge.

Jungkook’s tongue was playing with the sharp ends of his teeth. His eyes turned into a darkened hue, focusing on the artery alongside your neck.

You blinked at the hungry vampire standing in your way. “You can’t always get what you want, Jungkook.”

He grunts, and then sighs, relaxing his arms, face now unstrained and back to normal. He holds your hands. “Later then?” You nod. “Promise?” he asks with starry-filled eyes.

Shaking your head, you smile. “Promise.”

A deep hunger stirred within Jungkook’s body. It was an insatiable craving, but not for blood, like something was trying to escape from the depths of his soul. In his many years as a vampire, he’s never felt this type of unrest or longing. Perhaps this dream was attempting to awaken a longing within, something that had been buried deep. This sense of yearning he couldn’t ignore if he tried. He couldn’t fathom the feelings and emotions of this dream. At times, it was like déjà vu, like he’d experienced this before, he couldn’t shrug it off like he’s done with others.

He had noticed himself entering your dreams more than usual this week. When it came to others, he often did it out of curiosity and boredom, but to his surprise, your dreams were far more interesting than he could have imagined. Like there was an invisible string pulling him, wanting him to explore these dreams with you. There must be a significance. There must be something in these dreams indicating more than meets the eye.

Jungkook awoke, breathing a deep sigh as he laced his fingers behind his head. He turned his head toward his door when he heard the shuffling of feet down the hallway. One could only assume it was Taehyung and Ji-na again.

There was no one remotely interesting enough these last few years to even want that with, but the corners of his mouth curved up, and his heart wavered, thinking back to the dream of you and him cuddled up with kisses and giggles. He hadn’t found himself smiling like an idiot in a long time.

He sat up, ruffling his dark locks, then removed his duvet, walking toward his disheveled desk, which was littered with paper and candle jars. Unsure what he was looking for, Jungkook shuffled through his sketches and came across the same butterfly that inked on your skin. It must be an odd coincidence.

Jungkook’s brows knitted together thinking how weird it would be of him to try and see if you had this tattoo. He’d have to see it by chance or find a way to weave it into a conversation. And he didn’t know it, but the effect of this butterfly would ripple into something bigger—a long-hidden truth.

A knock and creak from the bedroom door breaks Jungkook out of his reverie. He turns to look at the angelic blonde man standing at the door.

“Jeon Jungkook is smiling? It must be my lucky day,” Jimin teases as he sips his cup of coffee.

“What do you want?” Jungkook covers up the sketches scattered on his desk.

Jimin walks into the room, and his eyes flick to the desk, then to Jungkook. “Just coming by to check on you. Can I get you anything?”

“Nope. Just gonna get some breakfast this morning.” He stands at the corner of the desk, blocking Jimin’s view.

“Still on your diet?” Jimin raises an eyebrow while taking another sip of coffee.

Jungkook tilts his head, clenching his jaw. “I can’t stray from it. You know that.” It’s been years since he’s had a taste of human blood. He’s lost count at this point.

“Okay.” Jimin holds his hands up in protest. “It’s just a question, and I’m a curious being.” He turns around, striding back to the door.

“Don’t you have things to do?” Jungkook asks, stopping Jimin in his tracks.

He turns back, stuffing his hand in his pocket. “Yeah, I’m heading to the blood bank now to confirm appointments with Mrs. Kim.”

Jungkook clears his throat, taking a step forward. “Who’s scheduled tonight?”

Jimin suppresses his smile. In all the years he’s known Jungkook, he’s never seen him so adamant about a donor. “If you’re wondering if ___ is coming tonight–she is. I confirmed with her separately, and she’s also spending the night.”

Two weeks have gone by since Jungkook saw you last. He enjoyed the impromptu trip to Busan, but with all the dream walking he has done lately, it’s like you never left his side.

As Jimin’s ready to leave, Jungkook stops him with another question. “Any new developments in Daegu?”

“Nope, it’s nothing but crickets there.”

“And you’ll tell me if anything comes up?”

“Have I ever been unloyal to you?” Jimin raises an eyebrow, scanning Jungkook from head to toe. He’s appalled by the question.

Jungkook grins. “You know I’ll have your head if you do.”

“How long have we been friends and you still talk to me like that?” Jimin questions, shaking his head. “I’ll be sure to inform you if anything or anyone shows up,” he says, turning around to leave Jungkook to the secrets hidden behind him.

Friday nights are times to make plans and hang out with friends, but it’s your time to work–that is if one could even call donating your blood to vampires ‘work’. The job was simple and unconventional, and you were happy to see your debt decreasing, thanks to these vamps.

In your eyes, Jimin was truly a gem. He was always texting you and making sure this was something you wanted to do. Growing up, you had to look out for yourself, since no one else was around.

When you pulled up to the gate, you didn’t have to ring the buzzer, it automatically opened, letting you in. Like normal, you pulled into the driveway behind an all-black Rolls Royce. Someone must’ve gotten a new car or there’s a possibility of a new client. Either way, none of that was important because you needed to focus on the task at hand: another round of donations.

Before greeting you, Mrs. Kim patted her mouth with her hankie which displayed crimson red from her coffee mug filled with blood–a typical sight at this point. You wondered why she just didn’t drink from a straw to prevent making a mess.

“You’ll be in room 7 today. Your client’s already inside,” she says, going back to reading her book.

From the basket sitting on the corner of her desk, you grab your buzzer. You’ve done this a few times now, but you figured this is something you’d never get used to.

You’re always curious and at times intimidated when it comes to these appointments, only because you never know what type of vampire you’ll come across. Will they be like Lucas? Someone who can’t control themselves? Or will they be like Jin? Gentle and understanding, the perfect balance of kindness and control with some humor thrown in. You quite liked his unorthodox approach.

As the door creaked open, your tense shoulders dropped and your heartbeat returned to normal when you saw Jimin sitting on the couch awaiting your arrival.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting all day,” he teases.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” you comment, sitting beside him, and setting your bag down. “Why are you booking an appointment with me, anyway? You could probably have my blood whenever you want if you ask nicely.”

Jimin grins. “That’s tempting, but I shouldn’t.”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why not? Afraid you’ll become addicted or something?”

He lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you quiet down and you realize that you’ve missed being in Jimin’s presence. He has a demeanor that’s quite different. Jimin’s like a safety net, ready and willing to catch you if you fall. His willingness to provide and protect is something you appreciate. And you’re even more thankful for it now that you’re involved in the world of vampires.

“So, pick your poison: neck or wrist?” you ask, meeting Jimin’s gaze, in which he beams a grin, and your eyes focus on the small chip in his front tooth. A part of you thinks he’ll choose neck because you still remember the first meeting with him and JK, where he bit into that woman.

“You decide,” he answers, taking you by surprise.

Your heart races, and you’re sure Jimin can hear the blood pumping through your veins. It’s never your first choice to be bitten into your neck. You found it rather intimate, especially with the other person being so close, their breath all hot and warm against you, and yet they were only going to draw blood from you and nothing else. But curiosity gets the best of you when your eyes drop to Jimin’s lips. Tilting your head, the natural rosy, plush lips are more intriguing than they should be, and you wonder how soft they’d be pressed against the column of your neck.

“Neck,” you reply, glancing at the vampire before you.

Jimin raises an eyebrow at your unexpected answer. “Are you sure?”

Clearing your throat, you squeak out a ‘yes.’ Turning back to Jimin, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for another blood donation.

His hand reaches out for yours, gently squeezing it. “Hey—if it’s too much, you can tell me to stop. Okay?” Jimin catches your gaze, ensuring you understand, and you nod in agreement.

Inching closer to him, you strain your neck to the side, waiting for him to pierce into you with his sharp fangs, but Jimin takes his time—he doesn’t dive right in.

“Are you scared my blood tastes bad or something?” You tease to lighten the mood.

It’s quite the opposite, he thinks—well, at least that’s what he’s heard through the grapevine. Jimin ignores your question. “Do you want to see what it looks like?”

His question catches you off guard. “What? You feeding on me?”

He hums. “Aren’t you curious?”

The world of vampires was opening up new fascinations, and you’ve only seen what they’ve shown in the movies and from the interaction you’ve had here at JK’s. What’s the harm, you think?

Curiosity tends to get the best of you, so you agree. You’ve seen Jimin feed on someone but you’ve never seen what you look like being fed on. Your mind goes back to the first time with Lucas and nothing could’ve prepared you for it.

“I know when to stop, unlike Lucas,” he reassures as you’re contemplating his question.

“And if I die?” Which was a possibility. You knew the risk of getting involved with vampires.

“Then I’ll personally put a stake in myself. There’s an option for your wrist too,” he reminds you.

You answer by standing and walking over to the full-length mirror. Is this what the mirrors are for? So vampires can watch themselves? Was this some kind of kink? You suppose there’s a kink for everything.

Jimin stands behind you, catching your gaze in the mirror. He’s been doing this for a long time and can see the concern in your eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asks, gently stroking the side of your neck.

“I trust you,” you reply, elongating your neck so he can have better access. Your breathing slows, but it’s the opposite for your heart rate—it increases when you see Jimin’s eyes turn dark and veins protrude through his delicate skin. His fangs appear and his nose nudges against the nape of your neck. He inhales the soft floral scent you spritzed on before leaving. Your eyes fall to his lips, thinking about how plush and pillowy they must be.

His lips ghost over your shoulder before meeting your eyes in the mirror again. “Ready?”

You hum in agreement and expel a single breath, and that’s when Jimin takes the plunge, piercing his fangs into your neck. His soft, plush lips mold against you. You’re lost in a trance, forgetting that you opted to see what feeding on you looked like. The sensation is overwhelming, almost euphoric. Having Jimin feed on you was the complete opposite of Lucas. Maybe it’s because you know Jimin, have had an actual conversation, and most importantly, you trust that he won’t hurt you—get carried away.

With your mouth agape, your eyes focus on Jimin as he’s relishing on you, your blood–the one thing that keeps him alive. Your gaze falls in the mirror, watching yourself lean back onto him for support. Your chest is heaving, breaths have fallen short as Jimin continues feeding on you.

He wraps his arm around the front of your waist, steadying your body. His lips are painted scarlet red when he pulls away from you. “Are you okay? We can take a break if you want.”

Your eyes are glazed over, wandering toward the ceiling and then around the room before meeting Jimin’s gaze. Shaking your head no, you tell him to keep going.

Although vampires aren’t mind readers, they’re keen on reading body language and social cues, and he didn’t want you insensible before him.

He pierces his wrist, holding it up to your lips, encouraging you to feed on him. Vampire blood isn’t the tastiest thing in the world, but you know it’ll quicken your recovery. Without hesitation, you consume his blood, sucking his wrist for a few seconds.

Jimin steps away, retrieving a silver Hershey’s kiss from a bowl beside the sofa. He’s asked Mrs. Kim to provide them whenever you’re scheduled for an appointment. Unwrapping the chocolate, he hands it to you, quickly popping it in your mouth. Sugar always speeds up the recovery, at least that’s what you believe.

“Still not used to this, huh?” He takes a seat and you do the same.

You relish in the rich taste of the milk chocolate and the crunchy almond that’s hidden within. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” you comment, turning to face Jimin. “How’s my neck?” You’re always worried there’s going to be a mark left behind, but you know there won’t be.

“It looks good as new,” he confirms, lightly trailing his finger along your neck. “If you’re tired, you can rest in your room.”

“My room?” You let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You’re not. You’re always welcome here.”

“Do you treat other donors like this?” You raise a brow, wondering if others receive the same treatment.

Jimin shrugs. “It’s different with you.” He stands, playing with the silver chocolate bells in the bowl, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyebrows are knitted, and your lips thinned. “How am I different?”

He clears his throat, regretting the words he’s spoken. “I mean—you’re Ji-na’s friend, so of course, we’re going to treat you like you’re one of us.”

“One of you? You act as if I’m a vampire already.” You wouldn’t be surprised if Ji-na hadn’t been asking Taehyung to turn her already.

“No, no. Let’s keep you human for as long as possible.”

“You say that as if you’re predicting my future.”

Jimin lets out a nervous chuckle. “I might have drained too much blood from you, huh? Should I walk you back to your room?”

Light laughter and chatter fill the hallway as the two of you continue toward your room. Your eyes wander to Jimin’s room and you poke your head in.

“You’re a curious cat, aren’t you?” Jimin asks, standing behind you before walking in.

“Can you blame me?” You shrug with intrigue as you follow him. The world of vampires only existed in film and television—at least until you were introduced to them, all thanks to Ji-na.

Jimin crawls into a reading nook that has been built beside the window. He watches and lets you wander to your heart's content. Your hand lingers from one book to another, seeing if anything catches your interest. One can only assume that being alive for so long can become boring and you’d have to find new hobbies.

“Have you read all these books?” You stop to pull out a modern book cover among the ancient-looking ones. “The Notebook?” With the novel in hand, you turn around to find out Jimin’s answer.

He pushes himself off his seat, strolling over to you. “Why yes, I’ve read all of these—including The Notebook.” He plucks the book out of your hand, returning it to its place. “What’s that phrase? ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’?” Jimin raises a brow and folds his arms across his chest.

You feel bad because you’re only teasing—you quite liked the book and the movie. Avoiding his gaze, you focus on a nameless brown leather-bound journal jammed in between The Great Gatsby and The Alchemist.

“I’m not judging—as you said, I’m just a curious cat,” you reply as your finger stops on the leather-bound book, ready to pull it out, but Jimin places his hand over yours, blocking you from grabbing it. Your head snaps in his direction, your eyes gleaming and your lips curve into a smile. “And what are you hiding?”

His grip becomes tighter as he pulls your hand away. He grabs the book, tucking it behind his back. “I’m not hiding anything. There are some things I want to keep private.”

“I wonder how many years of secrets you have hidden away.” You mirror Jimin, arms folded and your body is leaning against the bookshelf.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He raises a brow and sports a smirk, then he backs away, retreating to his reading nook. The leather-bound book is still hidden from view.

You shouldn’t pry, but you know Jimin isn’t the type of person to feed you a string of bullshit. Taehyung definitely would and as for JK—you’re sure he can’t stand the sight of you.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” You take a stride toward him with hands behind your back, trying to seem as innocent as you can.

“Go for it.”

“How did you, Taehyung, and JK all meet?”

Jimin pats the spot next to him. “You should get comfy because it’s a long story.”

1945.

The flickering wrought-iron street lamps illuminate a darkened alleyway. It’s late June, but the intermittent summer rain drenches the pavement along with pockets of puddles.

Five people are in this alleyway—only three are alive.

“What a pity.” The man shakes his head and clicks his tongue at the scene before him.

Jimin and Taehyung look up from enjoying their latest meal, which were two young women they had come across in a bar. They had gotten carried away, taking it further than expected, practically draining every ounce of blood in their bodies.

“You've made such a mess of these poor women.” The man standing before them is unrelenting in his curiosity of the two friends.

“What’s it to you?” Jimin asks, wiping away the blood that has dribbled down his chin.

The man shrugs. “There’s a way to ensure everyone has a good time.”

Jimin and Taehyung both stand, facing the mysterious man of the hour. Most people would be terrified, running for their lives, but not this person—rather, he was giving advice.

Taehyung steps over one of the bodies, strolling towards the man. “You should leave before you get hurt.” He tries his best to intimidate him by standing tall and puffing out his chest, but he recoils when the man doesn’t stand down.

A snicker leaves the man’s lips, placing a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I too, was once a young vampire, but hear me when I say you don’t have to live your life like this.”

Taehyung removes his shoulders from the clutches of the mysterious man and swiftly wraps his hand around the man’s neck, pressing him against the brick wall. The veins around Taehyung’s eyes protrude, fangs on display in an attempt to scare the man further.

What Taehyung doesn’t know is that the mystery man has 100 years on him, and could kill him before he could even say a word.

“Taehyung, don’t be stupid,” Jimin scolds his best friend, walking over to the two men.

Taehyung relents, letting go of the man. He adjusts his tie before reaching for something in his back pocket. He pulls out a wallet and plucks a card, which sits between his index and middle finger. Jimin and Taehyung stare at the man and the card then snatch it out of his hand.

The bunny on the card amuses Jimin. He flips the card over and sees the initials ‘JK’ and a phone number.

“Call me,” the man says. “If you want a job.”

Jimin and Taehyung look on as the man walks away, waving a hand and going on his merry way around the corner. The two briskly follow only to find this ‘JK’ person has disappeared without a trace.

Present Day.

“Has JK always been so mysterious?” You wonder if he’s shared more with Jimin and Taehyung since he’s known them longer—he must’ve because they’re practically at his beck and call.

A light chuckle leaves his lips. “Jungkook is…well…”

“Well, go on, spit it out. You can’t keep a girl guessing.”

“He doesn’t like others prying into his past.”

“Why not?” A slip of your tongue and you want to kick yourself.

“Let’s just say that he’s not the same JK you know now.”

Your eyebrows are knitted, mulling over Jimin’s words. You suppose everyone has skeletons in their closet. Things they’d like to keep hidden. Maybe some secrets are better left unsaid. With immortal life, you can only assume they’ve seen things they want to forget, and done things they regret. Could JK be trying to live a better life now because of his past?

“And what about you?” you ask, propping your hands as you lean back. Jimin’s collection of books gave you a small look into the kind of life he’s led, and you hoped that the two of you could become friends. He’s been kind to look after you during this donation process.

The corner of his lips curved into a smile. “What about me? I’m an open book—mostly.”

You lightly tap your feet on the floor, a lopsided grin on your face. “Open book, hm?” It takes everything in you to not blurt out every single question you’ve had listed since this whole vampire charade began. The questions are endless and you wouldn’t want to bore or annoy him. But if you could only ask him about one thing, it would be about what he’s keeping hidden behind his back.

Jimin scans your face. He raises a brow wondering if you’re going to poke the bear, but you don’t. You recede.

Your lips thin into a smile. “I’ll save my questions for another day. I should head to bed, and I’m sure you have more important things to do.” You stand and Jimin does the same. Turning back, you face him, placing your hands on his shoulders, reaching to place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me. You don’t know how much it means.”

He’s taken aback by your gesture. If only he could tell you the reasons as to why he feels responsible for you. Maybe your gratefulness would change.

“Have a good night Jimin.”

Slipping into a pajama set, your mind wanders to tonight’s appointment with Jimin—surprised that he was your client. You figured he would get some perks considering he was in charge of scheduling and keeping the peace within the vampires and their donors. If there was a vampire you’d want to be paired with, it would be Jimin. You can’t pinpoint exactly why you feel connected to him, but you feel as though you have a good friend on your side.

When you slide under the fluffy duvet, the white sheets are cool to the touch—it’s quite pleasing after an appointment. Donation days always brought great anxiety, and even the pep talks on the drive-over became more unconvincing. But once a donation was over with, the adrenaline rushing through your veins was smooth sailing again.

And now you’ve only had more questions to add to your list: What kind of person was JK before you met him? What is Jimin hiding in that book? Should you keep galavanting around with vampires trying to make ends meet? Maybe you’d do a few more months of appointments to save enough and then have Jimin wipe your memories. At least they wouldn’t be all of your memories—just anything about vampires.

But you’ll cross that road when and if that day comes.

So much for saving money because when you had it sitting in your bank account, it looked splendid, especially when there wasn’t a minus sign. Bills? Paid. Spending money? Finally.

You had a few hours to kill before tonight’s appointment and you wanted to check out a candle studio in town. You’ve driven past it many times and always noticed the window display.

The quaint studio was tucked between a coffee shop and a plant store. You made a note to check those out the next time you’re in the area, not realizing this town had such charm.

A bell rang and the door creaked when you pushed it open. Your eyes immediately fell to beautifully decorated shelves with a variety of candles: tapered, pillars, wax melts, and jars. The fresh, clean aroma of the studio filled your nostrils as you analyzed and read through the different labeled candle jars. You whip your head back when you notice a familiar butterfly—it’s almost identical to the one you have tattooed on the nape of your neck. But it’s just a coincidence, right?

“You’ll love the smell of that one—” A woman comments when she sees you eyeing a particular candle. She picks it up, twisting off the black cap, and the scent inhabits your space. Tilting it toward you, she encourages you to smell it.

There’s a soft, sweet floral scent to it. “Mm, you’re right.”

The woman smiles, twisting the cap back on and placing it on the shelf. “I thought you would.”

“Um, I couldn’t help but notice the butterfly on the label. I have a tattoo just like it,” you comment, turning around to point to the nape of your neck.

“Oh.” The woman’s voice falters, and she steps back.

You turn around, watching as her expression changes. “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She clears her throat. “No, I apologize. That’s a beautiful tattoo you have. Please let me know if you have any questions about anything.” She runs off, past the counter, and behind a pair of velvet purple curtains.

Confusion sets on your face, and you can’t help but wonder if your tattoo and the butterfly on the label aren’t a coincidence. You chew the inside of your cheek, gazing in the direction of the curtains, unsure what to make of the awkward run-in. There’s not much to do but brush it off, and maybe you’ll check out the other shops next door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you say when you accidentally bump into someone.

Turning around you see a beautiful woman. She looks around the same age as you, with such striking features—her brown almond eyes are dusted with a smoky glam look, and her lips are stained ruby red, her long, dark waves frame her face, as if she walked out of a movie set, even her outfit was sultry and seductive. And you’re sure if she had a partner, they probably worshiped the ground she walked on.

She scans you from head to toe before asking, “Which one do you think my boyfriend will like?” Walking over to you, she picks up the candle the shop owner showed you earlier. “This one or this one?” She picks up another candle next to it.

You can't help but wonder why someone looking like her would be found dead in a place like this—JK's home was far and secluded from observers, and the small town was simply a rest stop. And you’d kill to look like her–especially in a white corset top, black leather wide-leg pants, and heels.

She gives you another look, waiting for an answer, but continues, “My boyfriend is oddly obsessed with candles, and I want to surprise him with something new.” She untwists the lid of the candle with the butterfly label. When she takes a whiff, she ponders, letting the scent invade her nostrils before letting you smell it again.

With another inhale of the candle, you close your eyes, and a faint memory returns–you’re unable to recognize any faces, but you know it’s you and someone else. All you can hear are giggles. All you can feel are arms wrapped around you, and lips giving you kisses on your shoulders.

You open your eyes, taking a step back. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

The woman raises her eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Okay’, brushing off the interaction with you.

Sprinting out of the candle shop, you race to your car, unlocking the door, and slipping into the driver’s seat, your hands gripping the steering wheel. Blood pumps through your veins like you’re on an adrenaline high.

The imprints of memories only started once you involved yourself with vampires. Could this be a side effect? Could someone be doing something to you? Is this what happens when you drink vampire blood? Maybe it’s something you can ask Jimin.

A knock on your window brings you back to reality. You take your hands off the wheel and roll down your window to find the woman from the shop.

“Can I help you?” Maybe she needed some more recommendations.

She crouches down, handing you the candle from earlier. “Can you give this to my boyfriend for me?”

There must be some kind of mix-up because you don’t even know who she is, nor her boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

The woman shakes her head and grins. “No, I haven’t.” She holds the candle out further, waiting for you to take it, and you finally do.

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell JK that it’s from Eden and that I’ll be seeing him soon.”

A lightbulb goes off. Is this JK’s girlfriend? Was she a vampire too?

You swallow and peel your hands away from the wheel, your hand trembling as you hold the candle. You sense the same iciness that you've felt too often from vampire encounters with a mere touch of her hand.

“You’re cute—a bit timid. I can’t possibly see the appeal but who am I to judge,” Eden comments as she scans over you. “You have nothing to be scared of. I won’t hurt you—for now at least.”

You turn to place the candle in the passenger seat and press the ignition button. You roll up your window, preparing to bid farewell to this woman named Eden.

As you reverse, she stands—poised, waving her fingers as she watches you drive off. There’s a sense of relief when she’s out of view from your rearview.

First, the weird brush-off from the shop owner, then an interaction with someone from JK’s past. This isn’t a coincidence, is it? Just how deep did this vampire rabbit hole go?

You feel silly. It’s almost comical. Being afraid of a candle. You side-eye in the direction of it, shaking off the ridiculousness that you’ve concocted in your mind. As the car idly sits in JK’s driveway, you’re not ready to face the man of the house yet. Maybe Jimin could be the messenger and give it to him. Though, you’d hate for this Eden woman to find out that you didn’t personally hand it to JK.

“Why do I have to do it?” you mutter to yourself. With an exasperated sigh, you unbuckle, turn off the car, and then swipe the candle into your hand. A string of curses is grumbled as you slam the door shut.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” JK says, scaring you as he creeps up from behind.

“Jesus Christ!” The hand holding the candle is held against your heart.

“Again, it’s Jungkook—not Jesus Christ.”

You roll your eyes at the cunning vampire standing before you. “Sorry—I can’t help it. You’re always sneaking up on me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so jumpy,” he says with a snippy attitude as he walks past you.

“Wait—” You sprinted beside him, holding out the candle. He doesn’t say anything, but his pinched expression says it all—like he’s annoyed that you’ve stopped him with this trivial thing. “Someone named Eden wanted me to give this to you, and she said that she’ll see you soon.”

He takes another look at it, then you, ignoring the candle in your hand. “I don’t want it. You can have it.” He walks off without a care in the world like that name didn’t mean anything to him. Maybe things didn’t end well with her and he hates her guts, or it was a toxic relationship and he wants nothing to do with her. JK opens the front door, walking through it, leaving it open for you.

Throwing your hands up, you’re baffled by his dismissal of this supposed gift. You didn’t want it, it wasn’t yours to keep. You trample through the front door and hallway, following him toward his room. Just as you approach, he closes the door, locking it behind him. A puff of air escapes your lips, making a face at the painted black door.

“I’m leaving it out here for you!” You have no clue if he’s heard you, but there was no way you wanted to keep this candle. The fear of this supposed girlfriend was enough for you to not want to be involved. You set it on the ground, and you can see JK’s shadow, pacing around from behind the door.

As if you hadn’t had enough weird interactions today, throw JK’s into the mix too. Were you off your game or was he in a bad mood? Considering the two of you recently spent time together, you thought you chipped away at his hard, mysterious exterior, but perhaps you were wrong.

Tonight’s stroll to the blood bank feels endless. The wind has picked up, and leaves and what seems to be a trail of white daisies are floating and dancing around you. You’ve never seen daisies or flowers being grown around JK’s place, but yet here they were.

It’s quiet when you enter. Normally Mrs. Kim is chatting up a storm with schedule mix-ups but she’s passed out with a book on her chest. Her coffee cup of blood is full and hasn’t been touched. You suppose any job could be boring, even being a receptionist at a vampire blood bank.

There are no other donors except you and you’d get an earful if you decided to wake Mrs. Kim from her slumber. So you lean over, taking a peek at her scribbled calendar to find your name.

___ - Room 2

When you look around the waiting room, there’s something different, almost eerie. A candle on Mrs. Kim’s desk is holding onto its last shred of hope, trying to stay lit. You narrow your eyes to focus on the label—it’s the candle that you left outside of JK’s room. How did it end up here? Maybe Mrs. Kim grabbed it or JK dropped it off.

The fire from the candle danced back and forth but lost its battle and became extinguished. It’s normal, you think, for a candle to die out on its own.

Your hand is ready to turn the knob of Room 2 when your phone buzzes in your back pocket.

Jimin 8:27 PM

All appointments have been canceled for tonight, but you’ll still get compensation. I had to attend to something in Daegu with Taehyung. Feel free to stay the night and leave tomorrow if you’d like.

Turning around, you’re ready to head back to the main house and find something or nothing to do. But white petals from a daisy are littered on the ground and stop you in your tracks. Did you trek them in from outside or did you not notice them from earlier?

Maybe it’s better to go to your room and lock yourself in it until the next morning. You'd drive back home, but you hated how dark it became around here. Plus your sleepy eyes always come at the worst time. So a hot, relaxing bath and curling up in bed seemed like the better option.

Being in a large house shouldn’t be frightening, you think to calm your nerves. Bubbles are plastered onto your skin as you soak in the warm bath. The plinking droplets from the faucet is like white noise distracting you from your thoughts of being alone. With your eyes closed, you’re ready to drift off into dreamland, but you probably shouldn’t fall asleep in the bathtub.

You grasp the chain from the tub stopper and water begins to drain. Water sloshes and splashes as you reach for a towel, and beads of water run down your skin, trickling into it. Your feet press into the tufted coral bath rug which has ‘Let’s get naked’ embroidered in. You giggle at the thought of it because it doesn’t go with any decor in this large house. Maybe someone bought it as a joke—your guess is Taehyung.

The conditions are perfect when you slip under the covers—a fresh set of waffle-patterned pajamas drape your body and fuzzy socks warm your feet. The only thing left is to close your eyes and let your mind drift away.

And you do exactly that.

No one remembers the beginning of a dream. You’re plucked from reality and thrown into the dark abyss of your mind.

Dark clouds loom the expanse of the sky and thunder rumbles with a promise of rain. You’re focused on your shoes and the cherry red that paints it. You look up to see bodies scattered on the ground.

One. Two. Three—No four bodies surrounded by pools of blood in front of you.

There’s a fifth body. Someone is hovering, ravishing its lifeless soul.

The munching and gulping fill your ears as you approach. It’s when you crouch down beside them, you realize who the person is.

“JK?”

He snaps his head in your direction. The veins around his red eyes protrude, and his mouth is stained with his victim’s blood. He tucks his legs and feet as he kneels with his hands in his lap.

“Are you okay?” You knit your eyebrows together, and a trembling hand reaches for his shoulder, but he moves away.

JK shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“Just—come back with me, it’ll be okay.” You attempt to grab his arm but he resists and pushes you away.

“No, it’s not okay. I’m not a good person—look at me. I’m a monster. I can’t stop killing people.”

“JK—please. We’ll figure something out,” you plead.

“It’s cute you think that you can help him.”

You whip your head around to find Eden.

“Come on, baby,” Eden says, pushing you out of the way, and making you fall to the ground. She grabs ahold of JK by the arm, linking hers to his. “You need to get out of this little funk. Who cares if you can’t remember your past? Think of the future we can build together!”

JK reluctantly trails alongside Eden. He looks back with tear-filled eyes. But you have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take on Eden. It would only get you a one-way ticket to the morgue.

You watch as the two disappear into the distance, and the inevitable rain releases its downpour on you. As you turn around, there are piles upon piles of bodies—all drained of their blood. You cover your mouth and your heart’s racing. Did JK kill all of these people? Is this what he meant when he said he’s a monster?

The uneasiness of the dream awakens you. The hair on your body stands frozen by the mental image of the piles of bodies. It’s just a dream, a figment of your imagination, a thought that’s been buried deep and has now resurfaced.

You’re sure that at one point or another JK has killed more than he’s wanted, but it’s in a vampire nature. It’s what they’re meant to do. Maybe the JK you encountered in your dream was full of remorse and regret. At least, that’s what you suspected.

But dreams can bring out one’s deepest desires or darkest fears, and maybe becoming a sinner who couldn’t be brought back to reality was JK’s.

✨ next chapter ~ the 200

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader

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flowershines · 6 months

Text

Special Treats

Bf. Peeta Mellark x F. Reader

warnings: smut, tabs (sex chocolate), protected sex, nicknames, cunnilingus

Not proof read

Coming home from work, opening the front door to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, he was sitting on the couch in front of the tv watching the new season of the Hunger Games. Ever since he had been in the games with Katniss he kept trying his hardest to stop watching them and have the others follow in his footsteps but he just felt bad for the contestants this year, you had told him that they put two 8 year olds in the games this year.

Ofcource he never wanted to see those kids die so he did as much as he could to make them stay alive by sending in donations for them to keep them alive, after winning he had more of a wealthy lifestyle having you both live in the wealthiest side of the capital.

“I’m home.” Dropping all of your belongings in the chair that had been surrounding the island in the middle of the kitchen, he stood up and made his way over to you kissing your temple then complaining about how messed up the producers are “I’m surprised that they made it this far anyways, I think my donations are helping them I hope.” He said while looking down at the ground, shameful for the kids. “They are, they’re still alive aren't they.” “I don’t think for very long though, one and two have been trying to find them since they would be the easiest targets, I left them some small notes saying that they need to find shelter and hide for now.” Running his fingers through his blonde hair as he sat down into one of the chairs next to you, walking to him and giving him a small hug as a way to try and comfort him.

You always loved how caring he was, even though those kids weren't his and weren't even in his old district he felt like he had known them their whole life, kind of like an older brother figure to strangers.

“Oh I forgot Haymich gave me these chocolates for you, he said there was a note on it for you but it fell off when he gave it to me, it's just chocolates so I thought the note wasn't that important anyways.” “Yeah, you're right it’s Haymich, he probably wrote some stupid shit on it.” Handing the chocolate he took it and unwrapped it, “Want some?” shaking your head you exclaimed how you just went out to eat with Katniss for lunch. Taking a bite he hummed at the taste of it, “Good?” he shook his head up and down very fast you thought that he might get whiplash. Laughing to yourself you walked towards your bags and started to put them into your shared bedroom and started putting things away, Peeta walked back over to the couch and sat down right in front of the tv as you heard another buzz sound notifying you that he had just sent another donation to one of the kids.

As time went on he watched the tv closely as the group of trained teens walked over to where one of the kids had been hidden since the games had started.

Peeta’s POV:

Watching the kid shiver from fear made something in me feel horrible for her, a single tear ran down her face as she probably knew that it was the end for her, as they would kill her in no time. I put my hand over my mouth trying to stay quiet as if I was in the games myself, seeing her shiver and cry reminded me of my time during the games, not wanting to see the poor innocent girl get brutally murdered I walked towards the door letting Y/n know that I was going to take a walk along with asking her if she could shut off the tv not wanting to watch it anymore. I knew those kids were probably going to be the first to die but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, I mean who wouldn’t.

On the walk Y/n kept coming into my thoughts wondering what she probably thought of all the murder and what she thought of me being in the games as well, more questions about her wandered into my mind. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed deeply, I should probably start heading back to the apartment now heading back thoughts of Y/n couldn’t escape my mind, I probably just missed her so much today so I keep thinking of her.

Walking through the second to last hallway towards our apartment an image of Y/n popped in my head of her laying in our bed in my favorite pear of her lingerie, the red ones that never really covered much. I felt a rise of heat shoot through my stomach down to my sudden growing bulge which twitched at the thought, walking faster than before not wanting any of our neighbors to catch me with a growing hard on in my pants.

The more I would think of that image of her the more tighter my pants would go up against my dick making the sensation of the fabric rubbing against it even more hard to concentrate on any other random thought that might run through my head. Arriving at the apartment she was in our shared bedroom but instead of wearing the lingerie she was wearing the same clothes since the last time I saw her in.

She was on her knees putting things away in the bottom drawer of the dresser, I walked in front of her hoping she would see my aching problem and help out. She noticed that I was standing above her, she looked up at me with the most innocent eyes that stared into mine as she smiled softly. “When did you get back?” She said as he attention went back to what she was doing before, “Not that long ago.” I grabbed her by her jaw with one hand and made her look up at me, “I need you, now.” her eyes trailed from my eyes all the way down to my pants. My dick was right in front of her face making it perfect eye level with the tip as it leaked pre cum through my boxers and pants.

“All of the sudden?” She giggled still looking at my bulge then up at me, “Please Y/n, I was thinking then you came into my mind then an image popped up of you in my favorite lingerie on you.” I let go of her jaw and looked down at her with pleading eyes, “Your always horny.” She said standing up and walking towards the kitchen to get the last of her bags, I stood there defeated knowing that I would probably have to resort to my hand again. “Peeta?” She said from the kitchen, I walked into the room that she was in and stood in the doorway with an arched eyebrow and head tilted in the slightest way possible. She looked at me holding the box of the chocolate, “Do you not know what this is?!” “Chocolate.”

She rolled her eyes, “No shit, Tabs?” Looked her in the eyes and shook my head as a way to tell her I was not following, “It’s a chocolate made to turn you on, I should have read the box before giving it to you but I thought you knew.” She dropped the box on the island and rubbed her forehead, “So what am I supposed to do.” I rubbed my hand along the tip of my dick as she looked at it. She took one of the chocolates that showed three water droplets and ate it, “I’ll help you out, we just have to give it a minute for me to digest it.”

My eyes lit up with excitement, she walked over to the couch and placed a movie on and started watching it. I walked over to her and sat down next to her, I kept shifting and squirming in my seat as her attention was focused on the show in front of her. “Can I please eat you out?” I asked looking her up and down, she nodded and laid back against the arm of the couch using it as a pillow, I pulled her pants down which to my luck she wasn’t wearing any underwear giving me even more easy access. She whined at how slow I was going, I got closer to her heat and licked my lips as they hit her folds. I loved eating her out she always tasted so good and she would play with my hair all roughly making me moan into her pussy.

She would whine and breath all shaky which was my favorite noises that she makes, I couldn’t help but feel aroused as my tongue was deep into her. I uncontrollably got harder and started grinding down onto the couch for some sort of friction that my aching bulge was missing, as her moans and breathing became more sporadic she would grip onto my hair more tighter as my groans were muffled by her pussy, she loved the vibrations that it would give her and brought her over the edge making her cum on my tongue.

She sat up and pushed me down onto the couch and sat on top of my lap and started to unbuckle my belt I grabbed her shirt and started to unbutton it. The sound of my zipper being undone made me shift my hips up so that way she would be able to move my pants down to my knees. I finished buttoning her shirt and pulled it off each arm and brought one arm behind to her back and undid her bra. “Your a pro.” She said talking about being able to undo her bra with one hand, “You helped me become one.” I said smirking and dived into her neck and started to make my way down to her boobs, she moaned as my hands traveled from her waist down to her heat starting to do small circles on her clit.

She fell into my chest and started kissing my jawline then working down to my neck, she kept whispering sweet nothings into my ears. Pulling my hand away I reached towards the side table next to us and pulled out the drawer, taking out a condom and handing it to her and I shut the drawer and kissed her check. She ripped the packaging with her teeth off and took it out sliding it down on my dick, i softly groaned into her neck from the sudden sensation of her hand on me.

She grabbed my dick and placed it right at her entrance slowly sinking down on me as my hands rested on her waist, throwing my head back from the sudden sensation as I could feel her clench from every angle, her pussy ran along on the veins on my cock, she was made for me.

Grabbing at her waist tighter she started bouncing up and down on me, I kissed her on the lips as she continued bouncing on me. She grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me closer, our tongues danced on one another fighting for dominance. Her free hand ran up and down across my abs then bringing her hand down to my balls to play with them giving me the best pleasure.

Moans and groans filled the rooms our neighbors banged on the wall telling us that they can hear us, I placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans but she started to reach her peak and get closer and closer to her climax, realizing this I reached my hand down to her clit and started to rub it in circles while thrusting my hips up to meet her motions. Moans got louder and louder both of our climaxes at their peak, “P-peeta I-I’m gonna-” “Me two, princess.”

With that she started to fall apart on my dick as my cum shot into the condom filling it up, she slowed down her pace till she stopped moving and just cuddled against my chest. She went and grabbed my dick pulling it out of her making me whine from her hand touching my overstimulated cock, then proceeding to take the condom off and bring it to the kitchen and throw it away. She went into the bedroom not soon after came back in her comfy pjs sand had brought me out some as well, she handed them to me and picked up our clothes that had been thrown off earlier.

She walked back over to the couch and cuddled into my side I kissed her temple and said “Thank you princess, I love you.” “I love you too baby”

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fluff #smut #peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut

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total-funger-island · 4 months

Text

“Whiteness of the day.”

“Numbness of mind.”

“Darkness of depths.”

“Dance La Mad.”

“Termina is upon us..”

24 people traveling to the Wawanakwa island where Festival of Termina hosts by invitation from mysterious jester-man in their dream. All contestants have to manage surviving on through the island in 1 week and there must only one winner. Non of them are aware of the island’s threat that faces to their life.

* You finally arrived.

* As you step down from the train, you can feel the horror.

* Your body begins to tremble with fear and hunger.

IM BACK BABY I FINISHED ALL OF THEM WOHOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Finally everyone is here after I spent time to find their fits, don’t get me to mentioning about my sense of fashion is horrible but I’m glad all of them looking good. Thank you for all supports from my lovely followers make me here at this point, love you all <33

Update note infos about this au

The setting were take place in 1940s during ww2

This au will contain stuffs like g@re, d@ugs and ant dark themes. I will make sure tag them everytime as warnings

All characters are young adult (around 18-20) (I just don’t want to see teens being tortured :(

As I mentioned from those past posts this au will have multiple endings kinda like games (I think it cool to see my followers make their death choic— *gunshots*)

I just decided change 6 day to 1 week, I feel like it still too small for large casts

Btw stories will based on funger itself 90% might change some details or lore to fit tdi

Here all contestants designs I hope you like them, their moonscorched form and enemies will be next (also tagged me anytime if you fanart of them au I would love to see them *wink wink*)

Real footage of me after this post if you care /pos :

#total drama island #total drama #total drama au #fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #tdi fanart #funger au #tdi #my art #I wish I could tag all characters #sorry to #repost some here cause I’m lazy to scroll down to find them <\3 #ignore two gay psychopaths couple in last picture here /j #im gonna sleep now bye

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funger-rips · 8 months

Text

Fear and Hunger: Termina - All Contestant starting/dropped armor

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #items

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eksvaized · 4 months

Text

[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 3, MDNI

When you finally arrive home, it's empty. Darkness shrouds the hallways and the cold creeps across the floor. Every time you leave, you harbour a small glimmer of hope that upon your return, your mother, and brother will miraculously appear. But each time you open the front door and step inside, your heart sinks as the stark emptiness greets you. The only reminders of your family are the pictures that adorn the walls of the living room.

Simon insists on a thorough inspection of every inch of the house before allowing any decrease in vigilance. He moves from room to room, scanning each corner for any signs of intrusion, no matter how unlikely. Meanwhile, you stand idly by. Your body is devoid of energy, and your mind is too overwhelmed to partake in this tiresome task. You are certain that nobody could have sneaked inside. The first-floor windows are barricaded with wooden planks and miscellaneous items from the shed. Both the back and front doors always remain locked. Unless the dead have developed not only an insatiable hunger for human flesh, but also superhuman strength, there's no plausible way they can breach these walls.

"You're sleeping here tonight," you say, catching Simon off guard as he steps into the living room. The room is bathed in the soft, warm glow of a few candles that cut through the evening's darkness. You've prepared a makeshift bed for him on the couch, complete with clean sheets and a comfortable pillow. The ensuing silence is heavy, broken only by the faint crackling of the candles. After a long pause, you speak again. "I expect you to be gone in a few days," you add, your voice steady and firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Simon remains silent, nodding his head in response. His expression is unreadable. As you continue to linger in the room, both of you enter a silent, staring contest. It lasts for a few tension-filled seconds. Eventually, he raises his hand, peels off his skull mask, and lets the black fabric fall onto the coffee table. If you had harboured any thoughts that he hides his face because he is some monstrous creature, you are mistaken. Beneath the dirt and grime, there's an undeniable rugged charm. His brown eyes, dulled by filth, command your attention. His dirty blond hair is short and clipped. You assume he probably uses his knife for more than just stabbing biters.

Although you stand on the other side of the couch, you can't help but notice a small scar. It cuts through his lips as he clicks his tongue. At first, he seems to tolerate your scrutiny, assuming you'll lose interest and look away. Yet, you find it impossible to divert your gaze. Your eyes continue to study his face, mapping out each scar and wrinkle. He turns around, grabs his duffel bag, and sits on the couch.

Your first night sharing the house with Simon is a strange experience. Sleep eludes you because your senses are heightened and thrown into overdrive. You find yourself caught in the grip of restlessness, pacing the confines of your bedroom like a caged bird. You make a half-hearted attempt to coax yourself into sleep, but you can't keep your eyes closed for long. The ghostly echo of Simon's footsteps downstairs serves as a constant reminder of his presence. He has saved you twice now. Yet the fear gnawing at the core of your heart warns you that if you let your guard down, if you allow yourself to feel safe around him, he might seize the opportunity to creep up on you and do something vile.

As the morning sun peeks through the window, you wake up, realising that you have fallen asleep. When you creep downstairs, you see Simon still sleeping. His legs dangle off the couch's edge, one arm is tossed over his chest, and the other is covering his head. Tiptoeing closer, you study his peaceful expression, free of his usual fatigue. As his lips part, and a low snore eludes him, you can't help but notice the corner of his mouth is wet, with a small trace of dried saliva on his jaw. A giggle bubbles up your throat, unable to be contained, which causes him to stir from his slumber. But before he can catch you watching him, you scurry out of the room.

One day bleeds into the next, then another follows, and another still, until a week slips through your fingers like sand through an hourglass. Simon continues to sleep on your couch as if he has forgotten that he should be gone by now. The gnawing anxiety within you prevents you from evicting him, from dragging him out by his arm and slamming the front door in his face. And though you attempt frequently to hint at his overstayed welcome, he seems to have developed an uncanny ability to predict your intended conversation. Each time you open your mouth and resolve to broach the subject, he immerses himself in some activity or task, evading the uncomfortable discussion.

You can't complain much, though. So far, his presence has been relatively unobtrusive. Despite his tendency to keep to himself and his sparse interactions with you, he proves to be a surprisingly considerate roommate. He respects your space, never intruding more than necessary. Moreover, he is quite helpful around the house.

Your mornings often begin with the distant sound of him walking in the backyard. The dry leaves crunching under his boots. If any biters breach the tall wooden fence overnight, you can hear his hurried footsteps echoing in the air as he deals with them. In the evening, before sunset, he checks every window and door, ensuring that they are all secure. His attention to detail does not end there. Before bedtime, he draws all the curtains, shielding the inside of the house from the outside world. If any candles are left burning, he blows them out, ensuring they aren't being wasted.

In the beginning, he even keeps his need to himself and doesn't ask for anything. Still, you start sharing your supplies. Occasionally, when you are in a great mood, you invite him to eat with you. Your cooking skills are rudimentary at best. But you feel a powerful urge to return his kindness. Every time you offer him a warm meal, you notice a faint glimmer in his brown eyes and the way his tongue wets his lips before eating. He also voices no complaints, even when circumstances lead to the same tomato soup being served for three consecutive days.

For the first week and a half, you keep a degree of caution in his presence. But, as time continues to tick by, you lower your guard around him. Simon, although intimidating in appearance, reveals a softer side of himself. You realise he isn't the embodiment of the menace that you perceived him to be. Plus, there's a certain comfort in having a friend. Someone to share the oppressive silence with. No matter if most of the conversations are rather mundane and need a considerable amount of effort to start.

One late evening, you voice the growing concern that is gnawing at the back of both your minds.

"We are running out of food."

The statement lingers in the air. It serves as a grim reminder that you will need to venture from the safety of your house to scavenge for supplies.

The day seems endless, a continuous stretch of dreary hours. As the sun's last rays vanish, darkness descends, casting eerie shadows that stretch across the room. Simon rises from the couch. He moves towards the window, his silhouette framing against the fading light. The room is filled with an almost palpable silence, broken only by the soft sound of you lighting a candle. You find yourself watching him. Your eyes are drawn to his tall figure as he peers through the glass, scanning the front yard. His gaze lingers there longer than usual. But finally, with a soft sigh that you barely hear, he pulls the curtains shut.

With your fingers fiddling with the sharp corners of the playing cards in your hands, you resist the strong urge to peek at Simon's hand. Earlier, to lighten the mood, you persuaded him to teach you how to play poker. The lack of poker chips forced you to improvise, so you use caps from empty water bottles.

This is the third time you are spending time together before going to sleep.

"I can go out tomorrow. Maybe I'll find something," Simon suggests. His voice cuts through the stillness of the room like a warm knife through butter. After standing for a moment to let his words marinate in the air, he resumes his position on the couch. He sinks into the comfortable cushions. His legs stretch out in front of him, and the tension of the day melts away as he rests his feet on the coffee table.

"I will join you," you reply, realising it has been over a week since you left the house—since the day you took Simon into your home. You have stayed indoors all this time instead of searching for your family.

Simon doesn't object when you insist on accompanying him, knowing you have been separated from your brother and mother.

"Tonight, you should sleep upstairs. The bed is more comfortable than the couch," you say. Your voice echoes in the dimly lit room. As you glance in his direction from under your cards, your eyes meet his.

The house has three bedrooms; you occupy one, leaving the other two vacant. You often ponder if the tall, broad-shouldered man will ever express his discomfort. The couch, being small and old, is neither wide nor long enough to comfortably cradle his large frame.

"I'm okay down here," Simon says. Despite his rebuttal, you shake your head. You refuse to let him continue using the living room as his bedroom.

"You aren't," you reply with an eye roll. "Every morning, you wake up in a sour mood. You think I don't notice the slight grimace on your face, but I do." A soft sigh escapes you as you sit up straight, placing your cards on the coffee table. "I also know you complain daily about your aching back and cramping muscles."

"I never complain," he retorts, his voice filling with a hint of irritation. He absentmindedly scratches the side of his roughened jaw. The coarse sound of stubble against skin punctuates the silence before his hand falls back into his lap with a muted thud.

"Oh, but you do," you counter, the words laced with a sharp yet playful undertone. "Perhaps you don't say it directly to me, but I'm certainly not deaf. I can hear you talking to yourself when you think you're alone," a mischievous glint lights up your eyes. You lean closer to him, your gaze never leaving him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "And another thing," you continue, your voice getting softer. "You drool while you sleep."

Simon's eyes widen and his lips part as he stammers to form a coherent response. You notice his ears burning. They turn bright red from the embarrassment that's creeping up on him.

"Liar," he utters, the word barely more than a husky whisper. Your laughter fills the room. When you catch him staring at you, his gaze both intense and tender in the dim light, you notice a faint smile forming on his face. It softens the harsh lines of his weather-beaten features.

You two usually sleep in shifts. Initially, you were apprehensive when he presented this idea. For the first few nights, even when it was your turn to rest, sleep eluded you. You were hyper-aware of Simon's presence in the house. In the night's quiet, you could hear his faint footsteps downstairs as he prowled around the dark home like a nocturnal creature. At that point, he was still a stranger you met three days ago. A part of you, whether it was your instinct or simply paranoia, forbade you from trusting him.

However, over time, you let your guard down. Your sleepless nights became peaceful, allowing you to wake up feeling rejuvenated. The constant need to be alert, and aware of every minute noise, faded away. Simon was there, ensuring your safety, which allowed you to let go of your fears and enjoy a good night's sleep.

That night - after you lose again, and Simon teases you for not being able to bluff - even though it's his turn to stay on guard first, you insist on taking the first watch. Simon, who had been prepared to voice his complaints, finds himself silenced as you nudge him towards one of the upstairs bedrooms. As he slumps down onto the bed, he surrenders the fight and lets you have your way, permitting you to keep watch while he catches up on the much-needed sleep. And for the first time in what seems like forever, he is going to do so laying in an actual bed, as opposed to the usual makeshift bedding on a worn-out couch or the hard, cold floor of some abandoned building.

I'm thinking of creating a tag list for this story. If you'd like to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty #writing #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #cod #ghost x you #ghost cod #ghost #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #AP2 #zombie #zombie apocalypse #fem!reader

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