#i snort gore shit like it’s cocaine
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Peaky blinders season 4 episode 3 stream
Second, Tommy acknowledges that due to Michael's recovery, all accounting duties have been passed to the Head of Acquisitions, Ada Thorne. All members of the board approve Polly's return to the company. Tommy first welcomes back Polly Gray to her position as company treasurer, with an improved contract subject to the boards approval. Tommy is shocked to see that Arthur is not in attendance - unknown to him that he is in his office with Linda - and announces his official absence before starting the meeting. Shortly after, Tommy and the board of Shelby Company Limited arrive at Michael's hospital room for a general meeting. The photographs of Luca and the Changretta men With this, she hugs him and leaves, remarking that she has as much right to be there as anyone else. Despite initially having a close relationship, Michael tells his foster mother that she should leave, as he is with his real family now and is expecting them soon. She also reveals that his foster father passed away peacefully in his sleep, which seems to sadden Michael. He is visited by his foster mother, who reveals that she heard the news in the local paper and has brought him apples. But could there be a traitor within the Peaky Blinders Plotĭue to the events that happened previously on Christmas Day, Michael is in hospital enduring a slow recovery. It's a fucking ROCK.Luca Changretta understands the complexity of his enemy, as the weight of gypsy tradition hangs upon Arthur.
There is absolutely no way a sapphire in your vagina would be comfortable, let alone pleasurable.
Cried at the end when Tommy said "except you, Dad.
Also, the way that she crept off early the next morning, lied to the maid, and took Tommy's car felt like it was going somewhere, then didn't.
Tommy looking up at the portrait before he went off to fuck the duchess.
Grace's portrait watching over the whole scene.
Seriously though what the actual fuck is with the duchess and her crazy "wooohooo let's fuck in every room in the house and make the maids watch and let's play Russian roulette and I'm going to demand drinks and slap you" routine?.
Speaking of Hughes, the scene where he's running around and playing with the children in a very innocent way - but we know what we know about him - make my stomach turn.
A Shelby would never trust that a priest in Hughes' church would actually abide by Catholic practice and not tell a soul. She's far too smart to confess otherwise, and she left as soon as she'd got that information out. It was intended to get back to the Father Hughes, for some reason.
Something was definitely up with Polly's confession.
This is why the world thinks we Brits are prudes, BBC.
I was promised nudity and damn you, BBC, you didn't deliver.
(Like I know that you're actually happily married and btw happy birthday for yesterday but yes, yes, you can get a fuck any time you want.)
"I can get a fuck any time I want, love." I BET YOU CAN CILLIAN YOU HANDSOME SCAMP.
Daaaw, touching moment between Esme and John though, when he promised her he would buy the house her family was kicked out of and just generally understood her need to run/travel.
Esme "I'M FIVE MONTHS GONE!" immediately snorts cocaine cracked me up for some reason.
I mean, while being a devious little shit, but aaaw.
Although if I'm wrong and she's not, aaaaw, finally someone is looking out for Arthur's well-being.
BOOOOOO to Linda being the one to start it all.
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSS to the women being boss-ass bitches and going on strike.
THAT SKULL CRACKING SOUND I THREW UP A BIT IN MY MOUTH HOLY FOOK
I can take blood-and-guts gore all day, but bones breaking/dislocating makes me want to hurl.
No no no you do not taunt a grieving man about his dead wife and you do NOT wear her perfume you absolute trash skank ho.
Crazy duchess is fucking crazy and EVIL.
No discussions available for earlier episodes.
Unless a thread indicates otherwise (such as by saying Series 1 Discussion in the title), you can comment in any thread without using spoiler tags for plot points up to the latest officially aired episode. Submission titles should not contain spoilers in them. Official episode discussions do not require spoiler code to be used except when discussing future episodes (such as next week's promo). "A gangster family epic set in 1919 Birmingham, Peaky Blinders centres on a gang who sew razor blades in the peaks of their caps, and their fierce boss Tommy Shelby, who means to move up in the world." Spoilers A subreddit for the TV series Peaky Blinders airing Wednedays 9 PM on BBC Two.
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Why Are We (Best) Friends?
Warnings: Excessive swearing, alcoholism, mentions of drugs, drug use, suggestive humor, implied sexual content (no smut), some gore descriptions. Generally, Remus stuff.
Taglist: @blogging-time @veraisnotfine @littlestr @jessibbb @ibroken-butterflyi @hi-its-tutty @idkanameatall
(For these first couple chapters I have tagged people I thought might be interested in reading this. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)
The next chapters I will be posting every week on Thursday/Wednesday because this is a prewritten fic (look at me being responsible—)
Chapter Two: Fuck This
The Present.
“That fucker drives me fucking insane!” Patton’s shouting bounced off the walls. “Virgil keeps getting fucking mad at me and I don’t even know what I’m doing fucking wrong at this point, but he won’t fucking tell me what the fuck it is either!” He ranted. Remus nodded along, sat across from him. His legs were crossed with his pointy elbows resting on top, and his spine bent awkwardly so he could settle his head in his palm. Thoroughly entertained, Remus hummed every now and then in agreement like a sham therapist.
“And Roman! He... he... You know why he’s a bitch,” Patton lamented. A cackle shattered Remus’s short-lived, feigned seriousness.
“The last time we saw you was fucking Christmas,” Patton mocked. “Maybe because you didn’t fucking invite me, idiot. Of course Logan wouldn’t, though, all high and mighty smartass. And my puppet idea was a fucking good idea goddamnit. Bullshit. Bullshit!— ugh,” Patton sighed out his remaining traces of frustration. He crossed his arms over his chest and sunk into the green bean bag. Some of the styrofoam beads spilled out a small tear on the poor, battered, ever shrinking bean bag.
Grinning wildly, Remus said, “While that was a marvellous performance, I must say it could do with a little more variety in your profanity.” Patton gave an amused, breathy snort.
“Why are we friends, Remus? You’re such a bad influence on me,” Patton said teasingly. Remus rolled his eyes as Patton plucked another Pepsi can (which contents had most definitely not been poured down the drain and refilled with a concoction of cocktails) from his mini fridge. Remus let Patton hide his alcohol stockpile in his room since his dear friend was so paranoid of the other sides discovering it. “Encouraging me to curse, letting me have access to vodka…”
“Oh, shut up. You’ve become an alcoholic all on your own,” Remus said dismissively.
“...True,” Patton conceded. “You were always more the type for cookie mix,” Patton added as an afterthought. Remus doubled over into a laughing fit. Cookie mix most certainly had nothing to do with cocaine. He couldn’t help but laugh at the smug knowing look Patton sent him as him floundered.
“You— you can’t— I’ve been clean for a few months now!” Remus said defiantly, sinking further into his beanbag with his arms crossed. (Quickly, Remus double checked, pulling his hair over his eyes only to find clear brown, no white in sight. Phew.) Patton hummed sceptically. “But you did have shrooms recently,” he teased.
Remus huffed. “No I haven’t— …Wait—” Remus paused, “Have I?”
“I don’t know,” Patton smiled, “Have you?” Remus let his eyes wander the room. “I can’t remember…”
Patton rolled his eyes fondly.
“You know as long as you’re not over doing it, and you’re being as safe as possible, it’s fine with me. I don’t have any right to judge,” Patton said reassuringly. Yes, Patton knew it was inherently wrong to not at least try and steer his friend onto a less self-destructive path. Remus, to him, was like a hairless Chinese Crested puppy. Very weirdly adorable in the nasty kind of way. (That sounds bad, but he truly means it in the best way possible. What he lacked in hair as a metaphorical dog, he made up for in personality and a good heart muddle somewhere in there). Which meant he struggled to ever say no to him.
Patton also knew that the last thing he wanted to be was a hypocrite. Maybe once he got himself on the right track, then he’d intervene more.
“Seriously, how did we ever become friends?” Patton said genuinely. “I still thought babies were delivered by stalks when we first became friends.”
“I dunno… we just did,” was all Remus could come up with. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. When he couldn’t quite get comfy, he resorted to sitting upside down on the couch instead. Much better.
Silence settled over the two for a minute. Patton stared into space, deep in thought. Taking sips of his drink, he felt the alcohol lethargically burning down his throat. Remus resorted to picking at his nails again in the stillness, wondering if it’s possible to have a tattoo underneath your nails.
“I don’t regret it,” Patton said thoughtfully. Remus cocked his head to the side, neck cracking when his body slipped down the sofa a bit. “Becoming friends with you,” Patton clarified. “You’re the best friend I could ask for, really. You don’t baby and shelter me like the others. You let me just… be,” Patton said sincerely. “Which always seems too much to ask of the others,” Patton tacted on bitterly. He took a generous swig as if to emphasize his point. Remus scoffed, the tiny movement making him slide the rest of the way down onto the carpet. “Aww I’m flattered, honey.” His tone was excessively teasing, yet his expression was anything but.
Midst lazily reaching for another can, Remus swatted Patton’s hands away. “I think that’s enough. You’re already starting to monologue. If you keep going you’ll have a hangover so bad, it’ll feel like you actually hanged yourself,” Remus tutted. While Patton was no light weight (his words hadn’t even begun to slur yet), from the way Patton was chugging it down, Remus knew his body just hadn’t caught up yet.
Meekly lolling his head back to face skywards, Patton whined but didn’t protest. Sinking lower into the cushy bean bag, his eyes traced imagery patterns on the ceiling.
God, Remus knew that look.
“I just don’t know anymore, ReRe,” Patton said defeatedly, “Every time I think I’m over it, they keep giving me false hope. Everything I say and feel is ignored, and whenever I’m right, they always think it’s a stupid flook. They never listen. I don’t think they ever will at this rate. I don’t even know if I want to be friends with them anymore or I’m just really fucking lonely and my brain’s just hard wired to associate, I don’t know, being happy? With them?” His eyes were vacant, dull. “Why can’t it be like when we were little?”
While the whole point of their little get together was for Patton to vent with free will to cuss as needed, this more sappy, philosophical stuff… Remus didn’t like. You can’t blame him for not liking to see his best friend this miserable. Still, he knew it was best to let Patton keep going.
“Even if they did actually care about me, I’m sure they’d stop the moment they knew we’re like… a thing. Logan would think I’m crazy— Virgil and Roman too… I know what they’d think of us and it’s so— so—” Patton made a nondescript noise of frustration. “They’d say you corrupted me or some shit. I… I’m not embarrassed of you. I should stop acting like I am. I hate this stupid dumb angel reputation I have anyway. I’m just… I have to admit the only real reason I haven’t really said anything at this point is it’s kinda funny seeing their reactions whenever I accidentally say something that sounds wrong.”
Remus chuckled. “I don’t know how they haven’t caught on yet, honestly. Your half of our brain cell is just as sick as mine. They must be in denial.”
“Yeah…”
…
“I should be going to bed,” Patton tried to stand up. As soon as he stood however, his knees buckled. Remus dashed to his side and caught him. “You goof…” Remus positioned him upright. Steadying hands on his hips, Patton tried to stand up straight. A task easier said that done when you’re a gay panic. Inevitably, Patton limply collapsed on top of Remus.
“I don’t think I can make it to my room…” Patton’s cheeks flushed and the red ran down his neck.
“You wet noodle.”
“You… blue cheese lover.”
(“Is that supposed to be an insult?”)
(“Who the fuck likes blue cheese?”)
Arm slung over his shoulder, Remus hauled Patton into the hallway and onwards. He would have carried Patton if he hadn’t been so surprisingly stubborn. All well, anything to make him happy. They returned to their earlier, lighter bantering. The alcohol started to really catch up with Patton, his quips came slower. No less witty, though (by their standards).
Everything would’ve gone like normal if it wasn’t for a certain nerd who had decided on a coffee before bed. Most counterproductive. As soon as Logan had started out his room, he spotted them. His eyes settled into a potent, yet subtle glare. Like a droplet of poison spilt on an unassuming biscuit.
“What the…”
“Logyyy!” Patton perked up at the sound of his voice, lifting himself from Remus’s side that he’d been slumped on. The sudden movement made him lose balance. Scrambling to catch himself, Remus found himself with two arms wrapped around his shoulders now.
“Is… is he— are you drunk?” Logan sputtered. Disbelief shaped his words like they felt alien on his tongue. “I’m not thaaaat drunk!” Patton retaliated. Logan ignored him, cold, tired eyes set on Remus. “What did you do to him?” Logan said as aggressively as a guinea pig could manage. Confusion still mostly coloured his stare. “Me an’ Re er havin’ bestie time, duh!” Patton answered. He sounded giddy, but his voice had a touch of satire only drunken Patton could manage. Even in his drunken state, Patton subconsciously was trying to maintain his image.
Remus frowned. This learnt behaviour was ingrained into Patton.
“He shouldn’t be around someone like you in such a vulnerable state,” Logan said, already trying to pry Patton from his arms. “No—” Remus began, looping his arms securely on Patton's waist, “I’ll take care of him.”
“Noooo,” Patton recoiled, trying to melt into Remus’s side. “It's bestiee tiiiimme wi’ Emu.” Patton's arms slid up Remus’s shoulders around his neck as he squirmed. “You’re drunk, Patton,” Logan dismissed.
Seething, Remus shoved Logan off. “You heard him,” he said, sternly. “Back off before I carve out your tongue, blend it, and force feed it to you,” he threatened. Arms crossed, Logan huffed like an exhausted parent. “You’re all bark, no bite,” he dismissed.
“Oh honey, you ha’ no idea how mu’ he bi’es.”
Schooling his face into glares and scrunched eyebrows, Remus sighed out the giggles brewing in his lungs. Nonetheless, Patton was proud of the brief smug smile he provoked. Pretending he didn’t hear that, Logan insisted, “You’re a bad influence on someone like Patton. People like you shouldn’t be around him, especially when he’s inebriated.”
“Better under the supervision of a friend. He’d drink himself to death otherwise.”
“Yes, but preferably, that should be Virgil or Roman or I, most certainly not you.”
“It’s not my fault he doesn’t feel comfortable enough around anyone else, tin can.”
“Re,” Patton interrupted, whining, “I’m bored le’s gooo.” He tugged on him.
“—He’s drunk he doesn’t know what he’s saying— you know what— Okay, Patton, you choose. Me,” Logan pointed to himself, “or him?” He said overly pronouncing his words.
…
“…‘M drunk not a fuckin’ kid,” was Patton’s response. “We go now,” and he was stumbling down the hallway dragging Remus with him.
Both missed the shell shocked expression on Logan, not daring to believe his ears. Patton cursing? An intoxicated Patton, no less? No. Nope. Absolutely not. He needed coffee desperately.
When they finally got to Patton’s room, Remus carefully directed him, even lowering him onto his bed. Patton had the tendency to unceremoniously flop face first onto his bed like a starfish.
“I swear I’m gonna strangle Logan,” Remus muttered as he made sure Patton was comfortable, tucking in his blankets.
“I don’ think he into bdsm,” Patton said as an offhanded thought.
“You never know. He could be partial to a spider gag…”
“You really just want to try that thing out don’t you? I swear to god— oof.” Remus snatched his pillow from beneath his head to fluff it. Pretending to not pretend he was punching a sheep’s limp corpse, he fluffed it extremely thoroughly.
“You gotsa stop relying on me to keep you in check, ya know,” Patton pouted, arms crossed. “Your— you’re fuckin’ innsaaane!”
“I only ask you sometimes…” Remus said (the worst part about that sentence was that it was utterly true).
Blank stare piercing Remus, Patton paused a moment for his brain to function before deadpanning, “I’d like to talk to you about Jesus Christ—”
Remus shoved Patton’s pillow back, and he promptly forgot everything in favour of burrowing down into his bed. Touch light as moonlight, Remus herded Patton’s wild locks from his forehead. “What am I gonna do with you…”
“You’re na’ gon change my mind… kinky b-hole,” Patton mumbled, caught between the conscious world and sleep. Remus’s eyes smiled. Crouching down, he hovered over Patton. Hovered over his forehead, wondering. Pondering, debating, convincing himself. His breath stirred Patton’s brown locks. They scattered like a spooked flock. Running. Patton shivered.
He shouldn’t. Backing away, Remus was ready to switch the lights off and evacuate, yet was stopped.
“Reeemuuuuuss,” Patton called. Suddenly, he was wide awake again.
Huh?— his breath hitched. His hand caught on the doorway.
“Staaaaayyy! Preddy please?” He made grabby hands.
But— they don’t—
Did he deserve…? Right now? His nails dug into the doorframe.
…
“Okay! I’m coming, I’m coming,” Remus assured, relenting. Lazy giggles from Patton rewarded him. Flicking off the light, Remus strode back over. Laying together in silence, Remus picked the paint and splinters out from underneath his nails and waited. When Patton didn’t budge, Remus took his arms and used them like a seat belt. Simultaneously, Patton glued himself to his back like a limpet. A warm wall of heat.
“Remouse?” He mumbled into his shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“You’re really sweet. like… like tomato sauce.”
…
Welp okay then.
Next Chapter:
#WAW(B)F?#sander sides#thomas sanders#ts sander sides#patton sanders#ts patton#remus sanders#ts remus#intruality#moduke#logan sanders#ts logan#remus x patton#patton x remus
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The love, lead, and the undead.
Fandom: Monster Prom
Characters: Vicky Schmidt, Damien LaVey, Brian Yu, Oz, Zoe, Vera Oberlin, Liam de Lioncourt, Amira Rashid (he/him), Dahlia Aquino
Pairings: Brian/Damien/Vicky, Oz/Zoe, Amira/Vera
Words: 3.8k
Summary: Canon divergent. Chapter 5/?. WARNINGS— violence, gore, drug use, smut; Oz and Zoe discover the meaning of his premonitions, and Vicky makes a fatal mistakes.
Zoe was kind enough to have brought Oz to one of her many dimensions of horror outside of time so they were able to brainstorm on Oz’s premonitions. The gurgle of lava or lungs filled with blood came with the slight breeze through the crooked window and Fear twitched hungrily from the volatile energy secreted by one of Zoe’s many homes.
A whiteboard materialized before them. “Let’s make this simple,” said Zoe, “you’re going to tell me every minute detail of your premonitions, and we’re gonna make a map of everything we can think of that connects to the details. Start with the first one.”
“I was watching myself wrap kilos of cocaine, but it looked like I was looking through a camera in my chest. When I looked up, I was staring down the barrel of a rifle. Someone screamed don’t move or something along those lines, I saw a flash, and then got a headache.”
“Okay, and the second one?”
“Well, there was blood and soot coming out of my fingers, my index fingers were bent backward, I saw blood and brains kind of floating around like soap bubbles. I started to fall forever. There were bright blue snakes in my eyes, as vivid as gems. I landed in a vat of bloodshed and lightning.”
“That is… that is intense.” Zoe finished her list on the whiteboard.
“Let’s start simple," Oz said. "The only person I can think would end up in a coke lab in any capacity is Brian. He’s got substance abuse issues. I know people say is pick of poison is alcohol, but I don’t see why he won’t escalate.”
“That’s a good start. Let’s take this into consideration, though: who could be on the other side of the gun?”
Oz shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest.”
“Oz… you think too highly of our friends,” Zoe scolded him. “I can think of several. Damien is wantonly violent. Vera and Vicky are regularly doing heists. Miranda has constant feuds with everyone under the sun. Polly will do anything for some drugs. God, there are so many fucked up folks at our school, I could go on and on.”
“Fair enough.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I’m… I’m not sure. Raiding one of these places isn’t in anyone’s modus operandi. Maybe Polly for shits and giggles, but she would’ve told us something, don’t you think?”
“I do. That’s the most we can do for now. Instead of getting our shit in a bunch, let’s move on.”
“The snakes kind of remind me of Vera. I’m not sure why else there would be snakes in my eyes.”
“That’s a good start. Why would they be blue?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, when you think of blue, what do you think of?”
“Depression, rain, the ocean, storms, the sky. Brian since he’s always depressed. Dahlia is literally blue. Aren’t Vicky’s and Faith’s favorite color blue?”
“Yes, good. What about the lightning you saw?”
“I mean… Vicky electrocutes herself for giggles. I think Calculester and Vera listen to thunderstorms to help them sleep.”
“Fantastic. What about blood?”
“Damien’s a demon. He’s constantly covered in it.”
“Great, great, great. This is enough for us to start with. Why don’t you call Vicky, Vera, and Dahlia? I’ll tackle everyone else we brought up.”
“Can do.”
Zoe’s nightmare dimension evaporated. They were back in his apartment, where Oz picked up his phone and dialed for Vicky. It went straight to voicemail. She must have been busy, but it made his stomach churn. He tried Vera next and she too didn’t pick up. Oz knew Amira kept tabs on Vera, though. He called Amira.
“Hello?” Amira grunted.
“Hi, Amira. I know it’s late but I need to talk to you about Vera.
Amira cussed in the background. "One second," he grumbled as he rummaged around. "You're Gucci. Is everything okay?'
"I don't know." Oz sighed. "Okay, suspend your disbelief for a minute. I've had a couple of premonitions lately. First I had a premonition about someone getting shot in a coke lab. Do you know anyone who’d be involved in any way with coke?”
“Yeah. Vera has a drug trade.” He hummed. “Come to think of it, I overheard Vera talking with Vicky about robbing a lab.”
Oz’s chest constricted. The likelihood one of his friends would have been murdered dropped, and while he wasn't particularly disturbed by the idea of murder, the chance of Vera and Vicky shooting a hardened criminal with buddies didn't put him at ease. “Is she with you?”
“She’s not.”
“I need you to text her to call me as soon as she can, Amira. I-I know I’m kind of being a dick, but this is important.”
“You’re fine, Oz. I’ll get in touch with her as soon as I can.”
“Thank you so much. Text me as soon as you can.”
“I will. Bye, Oz.”
Oz hung up on Amira and then dialed for Dahlia. Her phone went to voicemail. "Fuck!" he cursed as he threw his phone. It shattered and scattered across the floor like ceramic. Oz felt sicker and sicker, like something greater than themselves, Zoe and Oz, who were gods in their own right, incapable to turn the tides of something awful in motion.
Zoe hugged Oz. "Did she not pick up?"
"She didn't." He rubbed his face. "God, this is going in disaster."
“Look. We have a lead with Vera and Vicky. Let’s get some rest, baby.”
Zoe was right. Oz let her drag him into her bedroom where they were swallowed by a toothy maw made from red hot metal. Zoe dove onto Oz seconds before the universe vanished.
---
Vicky woke to her alarm with a sense of unease, like Eugene’s fingers were still in her hair, like his lips were on her cheek. The shadows were dodgy. Eugene’s phantom only felt more real when she only had two hours of sleep under her belt.
Shakily, Vicky dressed in leggings, a tee, and sneakers. Vera was outside of her apartment in a ratty, old SUV with her chauffeur.
“Morning. Are you ready?”
“No. I hardly slept last night. I need some coke so I can stop feeling like I’m running on fumes.”
“That’s not good. Here, just don’t overdo it.” Vera passed Vicky a partially unwrapped kilo of cocaine. Vicky gently scooped some onto her fingertips and quietly snorted.
There was only a second before she absorbed the coke. When it hit her brain, she felt great, better than the last couple of days treated her, at least. Like she was a big dragon atop a horde of warm gold coins and dispatched a platoon of pitiful knights with a swoop of her tail. She felt big enough to have swallowed Eugene and Stan whole as if they were no bigger than a grain of rice.
She sniffed. Her nose was a little runny. “That’s better. Where’s the body armor?”
Vera dropped a pile of heavy kevlar onto Vicky’s lap. She donned pads and a vest and a thick helmet. She attached two assault rifles to her vest and many magazines to her legs. She whooped as they turned, Vera slapped her back.
“You fucking ready?”
“I’m so fucking ready!”
They stopped. Vicky and Vera stormed.
Vicky kicked down the door and shot the coffee table. “Get on the fucking ground! Put your fucking hands up!” she screamed
“Fuck!” The three men and two women in the room hit the deck. Vera threw a jammer onto a shelf and secured the denizens with zip ties. She frisked them down and dumped their guns into her duffle bag.
“Who else is here?” Vera demanded.
“There are two more in the basement! They’re just kids, don’t hurt them, " begged a ghoul.
“We want your money and your drugs. Don’t move, and y’all will live,” Vicky said.
“If you take everything, we’ll be killed!” said a vampire.
Vicky slapped the talker with one of her rifles. “You’ve got me to worry about first! Shut the fuck up or I’ll blow your fucking brains everywhere! Have I made myself clear?”
The vampire nodded.
“How many guns are stashed here?”
“You gonna clean us out?” the vampire asked.
“I asked you how many guns are here! Do you want me to blow off your dick?”
“Let him go,” the ghoul implored, “he’s a dumbass kid. There are twelve guns. Two under the table, one behind the door, one in the bathroom, three in the kitchen, two behind the couch, and the rest were on our person."
“You get that?” Vicky shouted.
“Yeah! Just keep them busy!”
Vicky heard a snap. The young vampire, freed of the zip ties, charged her. She kicked him down and shot him in the chest, but she was tackled not a second later by the ghoul with a hunting knife in hand. He was only kept at bay thanks to her rifle barrel lodged against his neck. Vicky pulled the trigger. His disembodied head collided with Vicky’s, she shrieked something ungodly in her disgust and hopped to her feet.
“Fuck, bag what you got. We gotta go!”
Vera ran up the stairs and then they wildly shot into the living room as they escaped. They fell into the getaway car and sped away.
There were a few seconds, the longest seconds of Vicky’s life, where Vera and Vicky huddled on the seat as their chests heaved.
Vicky had shot someone.
It wasn’t the first time she hurt someone. When people got feisty during their heists, she shot them in the hand or foot, she even kicked some. But she killed one, possibly two people. She felt sick, even though her haze of coke.
“Did we get anything?” Vicky asked.
Vera howled with delight. “We got so much fucking money!” She opened her bag for Vicky to peer inside. “This was all just on a table down there. They had a bunch of kids counting it! I got three kilos on top of that. God, there’s gotta be at least half a million dollars in here alone. Baby, we are rich as fuck!”
Vicky’s eyes bugged out of her head. She eventually broke into a grin so enormous it made her face hurt. “Oh my god! We are fucking rich!”
“We’re in it now, baby!” Vera held her face and they hopped in place. “Oh my god, you’re amazing, you crazy bitch. I love you so fucking much! We’re set for at least another month.”
“You can go a month without doing this again?”
“Fuck no!”
Vicky couldn’t help but be intoxicated by the money and Vera’s own elation. There was just a learning curve, she told herself, she would catch up.
---
Oz woke and he was stiffer than rigor mortis and it felt like he was knifed in the lung. It made him crabby. Slowly, he peeled open his eyes, and groggily surveyed his surroundings. Normally, Oz was a pacifist, but he sincerely wanted to wring the neck of whoever thought it was a good idea to kidnap him and Zoe.
When Oz looked down, his chest ache made sense. He was skewered by an oily black rod that reflected red light by the candles above them.
“Zoe!” he rasped. “Baby, where are you?”
“Fuck, stop screaming. I’m right behind you. God, my head is splitting, there’s something in my chest too, " she said. Her voice came from behind him. They were tired back to back.
“I think it’s the same thing in my chest,” he replied. “What the hell happened back there?”
“I don’t fucking know. I think we got swallowed by… by magic, or something like us. We have a lot of enemies. It could be one of them,” Zoe hypothesized. “That doesn’t matter now, though. We have to get out of here. Can you move?”
“If any of you so much as twitch, we won’t only kill Vicky, we’ll kill all your friends.”
Oz recognized that voice and it made his guts churn with horror. He craned his head over his shoulder to try to look at Dahlia. “Oh my God, Dahlia, what the hell have you done?" If the Aquino family was after Vicky, that had to have meant a declaration of war against the LaVey. "Dahlia, you're a fool! If you kill Vicky, you're going to bring the wrath of the LaVey family down on the heads of yourself and your loved ones. You will all be slaughtered!"
“Oz, shut up!” Zoe snapped. “Dahlia, look, I know you’ve got beef with the LaVey, but you can’t do this. The entire eighth circle of Hell will come for your ass if you kill Vicky. They won’t be merciful and you know that! Don't throw your life away like this. Pull out of this while you still can.”
Dahlia threw a chair. It exploded on the stone wall across from Oz. “No! The LaVey had this coming for a long time now, Zoe, and if the two of you had just kept to yourselves, we wouldn’t have had to imprison you.”
“Fuck!” Oz screamed. “Vicky hasn’t done anything!”
“She has! She fucked Damien, and now we’re gonna kill her and use her to fuck over Damien.”
“You are sick!” he bellowed. “Dahlia, I will kill you if you lay a hand on any of our friends!”
“Oz, shut up!”
“You two are cute. The thing is, with that spear in your chest, you’re virtually powerless.”
It dawned on Oz the spear was the reason Zoe told him to shut up. She wanted to create a distraction so he could pull it out since it would’ve been less obvious if he did it thanks to his position behind her. God, she was so much smarter than he was.
“Fuck, Zoe, talk some sense into Dahlia.”
“Dahlia. I know what you’re going through,” Zoe said, as Fear crept its inky appendage to wrap around the hilt of the spear. “I was needed to create chaos for eons. It was the only way I felt loved and accepted. But you deserve better than this! There are hundreds of wonderful traits to your name that you can make something out of yourself with. You don’t have to be-”
Zoe screamed. It sounded like the cry of seagulls and whales. Extremely pained, so much so, even Fear faltered.
“Zoe!” Oz screamed, “Zoe, what’s wrong?”
Dahlia skirted around their seats and smiled at Oz. “I cut off your girlfriend’s arm. If you try to escape before we kill Vicky, I’ll be cutting off more than just an arm. The next one is that big ol’ eye she's got.”
Oz never hated anyone before that moment. He glared at Vicky with vitriol that made his inky skin simmer.
"As soon as I'm out, I will make you wish you only had the LaVey to worry about, " Oz promised. "There's no coming back for you, Dahlia. I'm going to kill you."
Dahlia didn't reply. She only left them in the dark.
---
Vera and Vicky counted their winnings that afternoon. They took three hundred grand from the lab, and the kilos they took would have sold for another four hundred fifty grand. They were almost a million dollars richer. It was almost enough for Vicky to spend the rest of her life in retirement.
And Vicky stayed high. Vera gave her the coke out of her car. Vicky refused to come down.
To celebrate, Vicky took Vera and her suitor Amira, Liam, and her boyfriends out to party. She was only a quarter of the way through an expensive bottle of whiskey and as terribly as she danced, she felt like she ruled the dance floor, intoxicated by coke, booze, and the bass-heavy music that blasted from the speakers overhead. The way Damien and Brian sandwiched her, with their hands on her hips and in her hair, simply overjoyed Vicky. It was almost like she hadn't murdered someone hours ago.
When the bartender presented her with a three thousand dollar bottle of whiskey tied with a boy. Vera and Vicky were showered with confetti from party poppers as Liam took a photo.
Brian wrapped his arm around Vicky. He reached behind them for a glass and held them in place as Vicky poured generous servings for everyone.
"To the splendid duo!" Liam cheered. They toasted, and Vicky was surrounded by friends and loved ones. She hardly felt ill even as the image of their head falling onto her flashed before her eyes for a brief moment.
Vera was dragged into the dancefloor by Amira and Damien was off to create mayhem. Brian, Liam, and Vicky were left at the bar.
"It's a little weird celebrating robbery," Liam remarked. "Don't get me wrong, there's worse, but it is a little weird."
"It is. I shot two people today, and I killed at least one. I think this is Vera's way of trying to help me feel better." Vicky hopped up onto a stool and slowly sipped her whiskey. She felt Brian and Liam burn holes into her head with their eyes alone.
"Babe…" Brian mumbled, "are you okay?"
"I don't know."
"Vicky, take this seriously," Liam scolded her. "We're worried about you. You killed someone today. I mean, that in and of itself is super fucked up, but you're my friend so I'm willing to overlook the legal repercussions for your wellbeing."
Vicky felt sick. "I'm… processing it, I suppose. It's kind of surreal. Vera says I would've died if I didn't kill them, and she's absolutely right, but… I don't know. Killing someone is different than what I thought it would be like. It's dreamlike. Like I'm looking into a box replaying the whole thing."
Liam pensively took a drink. "It's definitely not what anyone expects."
"You say that like you've killed someone too," Brian said.
"I'm four hundred years old. Of course, I've killed a couple people." Liam brushed his hair back. "All I can really say is time dulls the feeling. You'll learn to cope."
Vicky thought she coped pretty well before Liam decided to pry into her business, but she kept that to herself. She took the whiskey bottle and Brian onto the dance floor instead. Damien jogged over to them. They drank and danced.
“You,” Damien teased as he impolitely pried her whiskey out of her hands, “are beautiful in this lighting.” He took an impressive swig, held her chin, and kissed her. Whiskey drowned her mouth like arousal drowned the junction between her legs.
“Fuck,” she groaned. She kissed Damien’s neck, and then Brian’s behind her. “Let’s go to the bathroom for a quickie,” she whispered.
Brian and Damien never protested as she dragged them into the handicap stall.
Damien shoved Vicky against the wall. He sunk to his knees and pushed her pants and underwear around her ankles. His tongue slipped between her legs. Brian held her by her neck and kissed her. He played with her breasts through her blouse, and clumsily, thanks to all the booze and coke in her system, she slipped his cock out and stroked him.
Brian proved needy, however. Not long into their foreplay, he grumbled for Damien to move, he pulled her shirt over her head and then kissed her when he tossed it onto the floor. She was perfectly content to allow him to ravage her. As he fumbled with her bra, she kissed him and help his biceps with her hands. He grabbed her by her wrists and held them above her head. With a giggle, Vicky wrapped her legs around his hips.
He slammed himself inside her. Vicky adored it. He wanted her so badly. She must have been so pretty in the fluorescent light, with the way he stared into her eyes and wordlessly grunted. He tucked his face into her shoulder. He gnawed on her bolts. Electricity coursed through him and it made him quiver inside of her.
“Please fuck me harder,” she pleaded, “I need it so badly.”
Brian pulled himself out. Vicky protested until she was flipped around and bent over. He reentered her and rode her furiously. When Vicky looked over her shoulder, Damien poked her mouth with the head of his cock. She happily swallowed him, albeit clumsily between her inebriation and Brian’s roughness making her whole frame shake like a house shook in an earthquake. They shook her entire world.
Brian became sloppy. Damien pulled him out and they switched positions. He backed her up so Brian could fit between her face and the wall. She pulled him into her mouth, so deep she choked. Nonetheless, she happily bobbed with Damien as much as she could. Brian stroked her hair. He groaned and not seconds later, he came into her throat. She must have been so pretty, the way he slipped down the wall as Damien finished her off. Cum dripped down her chin as she came with Damien. She gurgled. Her legs shook as she was filled and filled.
Damien pulled himself out of her pussy. Brian passed him a wad of toilet paper to wipe up the mess. Brian pushed himself to his feet and held Vicky.
A knock came from their stall door and Vicky yelped.
“If you guys are finished in there, I’d kind of like to have a dance with my business partner, " Vera said.
“Oh shit,” Damien grumbled.
"I'll be out in a second!" Vicky replied. The three of them fixed their clothes and Vicky tumbled out with a sheepish smile. Vera was as uncharmed as she was drunk.
“Come on, let’s get you some dignity back.”
“I better be your favorite slut, at least,” Vicky said. That made Vera laugh.
Vicky was pulled back onto the dance floor. Amira handed her a drink with Kahlua and orange bitters before they took her into their sweet, sapphic arms. Vicky loved having girls for friends.
“You were amazing today!” Vera said. “I can’t fucking believe how much we got!”
“I shot someone. The cops are gonna be on our ass if they don’t have friends.”
“Yeah, but they would've cut your throat if you didn't do something. I’m glad you’re okay, and you know I’ll help with anything if you get in trouble. A lawyer, maybe some assassinations if we can’t rig the trial.” Vera laid their foreheads together. “Vicky, you’re my best friend. You and I have done so much together. I want you in my life forever. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
Vicky grinned. “Like sisters?”
“Like sisters, honey. Like I want to plan your wedding with you and all that gross, lovey-dovey shit.”
“I want that too. I want you in my life forever, Vera,” Vicky confessed. She hugged Vera as they swayed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Crash and burn. But that’s not important because I’m here now. I’ll be here forever.”
“Me too,” Vicky said.
She felt okay. The sickness from her murder was still heavy, but Vera held her like family, and that was comforting.
#monster prom#vicky schmidt#vera oberlin#damien lavey#brian yu#oz monster prom#zoe monster prom#amira rashid#dahlia aquino#liam de lioncourt#brian/damien/vicky#oz/zoe#amira/vera#platonic liam/vicky#platonic vicky/vera
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fatal attraction│01 (m.)
→ pairing: reader x jungkook (feat. taehyung)
→ genre: serial killer au, angst
→ word count: 14k
Your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one.
→ warnings: mentions of smut, drug and alcohol abuse, violence, light gore, death and murder. This will be a series with a lot of twists and turns… I’ve been working on this for a while and I’m excited to finally post so I hope you all like it.
↳ series m.list | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | on going
You were at Hoseok’s palace of a home. You were at Hoseok’s palace of a home every Saturday night. Every weekend his parents flew off to the Caribbean, leaving an empty house for him to have all of you over. Apparently dealing with their unemployed 24 year old son proved too stressful. You, Hoseok, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung and a hundred odd people occupied the Jung mansion in his parent’s absence. These parties were notorious from what you heard. Only a handful of times you had experienced them first hand, despite being in the same place every weekend. Instead, you’d lock yourselves upstairs and let the party goers enjoy the raging vibes below.
Surprisingly, Hoseok never minded these strangers soiling his million dollar home. Whenever someone would break a vase or knock over an expensive artwork his reaction was far from frightening. His eyes would widen and he’d mutter an ‘oh shit’ before erupting into laughter. He was so carefree and that’s what you loved most about him - despite the trait most likely stemmed from growing up so privileged.
Hoseok was heir to an empire. You all were and you were lucky you all clicked so well when your parent forced you all to form a little group. Sure you fought every now and then, but there were two things that always kept the dynamic in check, two things you would always have in common. One, none of you wanted to take over your families’ businesses and two, all of you loved to drink.
You were sitting at the dining table scattered with all types of contraband and playing cards. You had the worst poker face, so your goodies were at the other end of the table with Taehyung. You sent him a death glare as he snorted a line of your cocaine before puckering his lips at you.
“Asshole!”
“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re shit,” he retorted.
“Fuck you!”
You chucked your cards at him and he cackled when they landed nowhere near him.
“Let’s just play something else,” Jimin suggested, hoping to simmer down the situation before you exploded.
“No!” Taehyung argued, “Just because princess pathetic can’t handle losing her stimulants doesn’t mean everyone’s fun has to be ruined.”
Taehyung was known for joking around, especially with you. For some reason beyond your knowledge, you were his favourite to tease. It was a thrill for him to get a rise out of you, you could see it in his eyes. Every time, his chocolate orbs would ignite with satisfaction at your reaction. It was like he got off from it, his dark stare taking a snapshot of your face to save for later. Although he irked you endlessly, you didn’t entirely mind. He ensured there was never a dull day. He ensured embarrassing moments never went unnoticed and were stored away for future laughs. He was your friend and you knew he loved you, despite the harassment. But that comment did hurt.
“Hey!” Yoongi snapped.
Taehyung eyes widened and he hung his head. Whenever Yoongi spoke up, you all knew, as well as Taehyung, that he had gone too far. Now at an awkward standstill as to what to play next, Hoseok got up to go downstairs. He’d make an appearance every hour, more so to please his guests as opposed to checking if his home was still intact. After two years of witnessing these parties you had come to the conclusion that Hoseok used them to punish his parents for neglecting him. They weren’t for his pleasure and they weren’t for his boys or yours. The parties were only a background noise. It was a weird dynamic when you actually thought about it but it worked. The guests knew never to come upstairs and as long as they obeyed that rule, they could drink and party to their hearts’ content. However, Hoseok wasn’t completely reckless, if anyone broke his very few, lax rules they were banned for good. His status alone kept trespassing nonexistent. It was organised chaos.
“I’m off to do the rounds! If you haven’t come up with a game by the time I come back, we’re all joining the party,” Hoseok threatened and earned a groan from all the boys as he left.
“Ok fine! Since princess-” Taehyung began with a snarky tone.
“Careful,” Yoongi warned.
He sighed before adjusting his tone to something close to endearing.
“Since princess has lost her assets, how about we bet on clothes?”
“If you give me my coke back I’ll strip for you right now,” you deadpanned, fed up with his extra sass.
“Really?!” He exclaimed, his face lighting up with shock, which you hated because he looked so damn cute.
“Just have mine ____,” Jimin offered kindly, trying to save your dignity.
“No offence baby but my coke is better,” you sassed, drunk and coming down from the weak drugs.
Jimin dropped his cards in defeat. He was always such an angel to you, you knew you’d feel bad tomorrow but right now your stubborn self just didn’t care.
“____ just text Jin and get more,” Yoongi suggested clearly trying to protect your dignity as well.
“I can’t,” you replied in a small voice.
“Why?” Taehyung challenged with a smirk.
“Because if I ask him for drugs again he’s gonna tell mum and dad,” you admitted unable to make eye contact with anyone.
Sure your brother was a part time drug dealer, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still your brother. He was overprotective and controlling and he hated you hanging out with the boys. If it wasn’t for the fact your friendships benefited the family business, he would have narked on you all years ago.
Taehyung’s cackle filled the room. “Are you serious?!”
“Why are you being extra dickish today?”
Taehyung shrugged his shoulders before pushing his chair back and dangling your little white bag spitefully. In blind determination you marched over to him, peeling the tight shirt off your back. Jimin and Yoongi yelled in half-hearted disgust and turned away while Taehyung hollered.
“C'mon guys don’t pretend you haven’t wanted see this for years!”
You ignored his comment, knowing if you acknowledged it your face might have turned beet red. You attempted to snatch your drugs dangling between his fingers but he palmed the bag.
“Jeans as well, baby.”
You rolled your eyes and began to unzip. You should have felt disgusted and repelled by his sleazy behaviour but you couldn’t. As you looked down into his eyes that were filled with curiosity and anticipation, you could only see your little Tae. Taehyung who never failed to make you smile by the sight of his face alone, his constant expression of absence and his big bambi eyes. The urge to pinch his cheeks was a daily struggle and that image was impossible to tarnish. And in a weird way, it made you feel ok with what was going on. You trusted Taehyung, you trusted all the boys and you were comfortable. Honestly you were surprised they hadn’t seen you naked already.
“Stop!” Yoongi yelled before you could push your jeans past your ass.
“Why?!” Tae whined in dramatic pain.
“Jin’s on his way.”
“What?!” You screeched in panic.
“Chill! I texted him asking to score and he said he was in the area. Put your shirt back on, your high end coke is on its way,” Yoongi explained.
“Thank you.”
You did what you were told and poked your tongue at Taehyung before returning to your seat. He kicked at Yoongi’s chair and mouthed a 'what the fuck man?!’ at him when he thought you weren’t watching.
“We’ve got a good thing going here!” Yoongi bellowed, disregarding Tae’s attempt to be discreet. “I’m not going to let you make it weird and awkward for the only girl that likes us because you’re high and horny!”
Now, girls liked them. Girls liked them a lot. However you were the only one who didn’t beg them for anything remotely romantic. Now don’t get it wrong, it was difficult in the beginning. The four of them screamed anime fantasy, with their impeccable fashion sense and coloured hair. Their demeanours radiated sex appeal without effort, disinterested and completely unaware of how alluring it was. They were just too cool it hurt. It took a good couple of months of getting used to and resisting that urge to throw yourself at any of them was probably the best thing you had ever done. It was strange to think your feelings for them weren’t always platonic.
And even more strange to think it was Taehyung that caught your eye first.
*
He was slouched against the wall at the bottom of Hoseok’s grand staircase. His hair was red at the time and he was sporting leather trousers and a white bomber. Drunken strangers flooded the distance between you two and obscured your view occasionally but it was still impossible not to spot him. He looked and was, fucked and he completely owned it. His mouth was in a permanent smirk, his tongue making an appearance every few seconds. He was looking everywhere and nowhere in particular. It had you yearning for his thoughts. Daze so intense, he hadn’t even noticed you blatantly staring at him for the last half an hour.
Half an hour you had been there, dragged out of bed by your brother because he needed to deal and you couldn’t be left alone. You truly had no interest in attending one of Hoseok’s parties but now, discovering this gorgeous boy had you kicking yourself for not making an appearance sooner. Once you had enough of the torture, in a second of blind courage, you found your legs moving towards him. You didn’t even have anything to say. Honestly, you were shamelessly contemplating just shoving your tongue down his throat because you didn’t have anything to say. But you weren’t the only one with him in your radar. You stopped in your tracks when suddenly this gorgeous blonde popped out of nowhere and latched onto him. You cursed. If only you had made your move sooner. But no, you had spent the whole time just staring like an absolute creep…
But before you could completely bask in regret, he was waving her off.
It was bizarre.
She had the looks of a model, throwing herself at him and grabbing his manhood. He only chuckled and shook his head, letting her make a fool of herself. Just within earshot, you could make out her annoying whines.
“C'mon Tae, take me upstairs and we can fool around abit.”
Tae.
Tae chuckled and covered his face as if she had just said the most absurd thing imaginable. Leaning his head back against the wall, he stared at her through his lashes and once again, shook his head. She stomped like a child, disappointment shrouded her flawless face. In one final attempt to get in this boy’s pants, she leaned into his ear and whispered so seductively it gave you goosebumps.
“I really want to suck your cock baby.”
No reaction whatsoever, instead his smirk returned and his eyes found yours. You must have looked like a deer in headlights, unable to move or play off like you hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time. His stare was inquisitive, curious and he refused to break it as he finally opened his mouth.
“No,” he growled into the blonde’s ear before winking at you.
Your heart stopped and you ran off in a panic. No no no no, hell no. There was no way you could face him now. On a mission to find your brother, you were praying he was far from the stairwell so you could make a proper escape. Tae’s raspy voice echoed in your brain as you moved through the crowd at an agonisingly slow pace. To your dismay, you didn’t get very far before Jin found you.
“____! I told you not to wander off! Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Jin yelled at you over all the commotion.
You had felt your phone go off but ignored it. You couldn’t risk tearing your eyes from Tae at the time. You were scared he’d get lost in the crowd even if you looked away for a second. But now that you had been discovered, you had to be as far away as possible. You nervously turned back to check the distance you made between yourself and said boy. It wasn’t a lot and he was still watching you, amused and the blonde had disappeared.
“I’m sorry, let’s just go home,” you gushed trying your best to usher him towards the door.
But he stopped.
“Oh! It’s Taehyung,” he said, waving at the boy you had been trying to run away from.
“You know him?!” You squealed.
“Yeah, he’s dad’s potential business partner’s son.”
Your eyes widened. “How do you know this?”
“We’re going to be taking over the family business eventually, ____, pay attention.”
“You’re taking over the family business Jin. So no, I won’t pay attention.”
He shook his head and chuckled.
“I’ll introduce you.”
“NO!”
Before your body could react, Jin was already approaching him. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along like he did when you two were kids. You tugged at his bicep in protest and whispered in his ear in desperation. You felt like you could mentally combust if forced to confront Taehyung now. Jin ignored your pleas, like always. Your heart was racing as Taehyung spotted Jin and stood up straight, recognition in his expression. It was the most alert you’d seen him.
“Oh, Jin!” He greeted.
“Taehyung!”
Then they did this bro handshake you’d never understand.
“Hey, do you have anymore of those pink tabs?” Taehyung asked your brother, eyes wide and hopeful. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen in your life.
“So that’s how you know him?” You called him out, as if he listened to shit concerning the family business. “I was under the impression you met through our respected law-abiding families?”
Jin shot you menacing eyes. “I did meet him through dad, you brat,” he hissed in your ear.
Taehyung chuckled. “Who is this?” He asked your brother and then turned to you, “And why’d you run away from me?”
“This is my little sister ____,” he introduced you before you had a chance to. “I have to babysit her even though she’s 19 years old because she can’t stay out of trouble. And why did you run away from him ____?”
You stuttered. The fucking nerve of him. You wanted to murder him. Taehyung’s laughter filled the air and you felt your face burning up. You twisted around to punch Jin in the gut but he predicted it and blocked it. The urge to scream in his face was so strong but Taehyung’s intense gaze forced you to behave.
"You’re not doing a very good job keeping her away from it.”
The three of you turned to the voice walking down the stairs. Your jaw dropped. The boy was just as ethereal as Taehyung. He had similar style, however a leather jacket hung off his shoulders instead of the white bomber that swallowed Taehyung. He caught your eye and smiled brightly, his eyes crescent moons. If you hadn’t died already, you died then.
“You’re no better,” Taehyung pointed at the other boy, eyes wide and accusing.
“What? I’m an angel,” the boy sung, running his fingers through his silvery white hair.
The other boys cringed and Taehyung shoved him as he took the spot next to him against the wall.
“I’m Jimin.”
“Hi,” you squeaked.
Jin looked at you, looked at his friends and then looked at the way you were looking at his friends. He could always sense the trouble before you ever could. It was the glint in your eye, the undeniable tension that radiated off of you whenever you were drawn to something, drawn to… trouble, essentially. And somehow it was Jin’s job to prevent it, to intervene before you delved face first.
“Ok I’m going to take my baby sister home now,” he declared, emphasising 'baby’.
“No, stay!” Jimin protested sweetly.
“Yoongi hates it when you leave so soon,” Taehyung added.
You had heard that name before, Jin was always mentioning him when he was not already with him. Although your brother never used the phrase best friend, you knew that was what Yoongi was. You had been dying to meet him. And you’d be lying if you said the two boys you had just met didn’t have anything to do with your change of mind.
“Let’s stay-” You began.
“Next time boys,” Jin interrupted, pulling your arm.
“Wait!” Taehyung hollered and closed the distance Jin attempted to make. “I wanna see you again.”
The smirk on him radiated utter confidence and bravado. You hadn’t made the best first impression, with the help of Jin, so you were quite surprised. Nevertheless, you bit your lip and pulled your phone out of your pocket. But it was quickly intervened.
"No,” your brother deadpanned.
The boys with coloured hair laughed.
“C'mon dude, we’re not that bad,” Jimin defended the both of them.
“Maybe you,” Jin said pointing at Jimin. “But not him.”
Taehyung gasped dramatically.
“Ok, how about I get her number then,” Jimin mediated.
Jin rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. He turned around as if saying to quickly do it while he wasn’t looking. You grabbed Jimin’s phone, typing your number and saving it. Taehyung’s eyes grew at the sight of Jimin’s phone, now with your number in it, as you handed it back. He was about to lunge for it but you grabbed his phone before he could and dialed your number quickly.
Jin turned around as your phone rang.
“Um no!”
“I’ll see you around,” You said with a wink, dragging your brother away.
*
Jimin and Taehyung told you a year later what they thought of you in that very moment. It started with, “you were sexy as hell” and ended with “but then you became one of us”. You had pondered that conversation and first interaction over and over, trying your best to analyse how they saw what they had explained. First of all, you looked a mess that night so for them to find you attractive enough to want to see you again, had you baffled. Jin gave you no time to change, so you were still in your satin nightgown and ended up chucking on boots that were laying at the front door. Your hair probably looked like a nest and all you did was stand there being patronised by your brother.
For a while you theorised it was because Taehyung thought anything in little dress was sexy as hell. He loved women with an alternative look and he was all about the chase so it was easy to assume. Jimin spoiled that theory eventually, with a raised eyebrow and an accusation that you weren’t giving yourself enough credit for how beautiful you were. And soon, to your embarrassment, whether it was a compliment or expressed as a burden, none of the boys would let you forget how beautiful you were.
*
As you walked back to the car with your brother that night, you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling. From the beginning, you could feel that you were on the same wavelength and that both parties had voids they knew the other could fill. It was in the way Jimin smiled at you. It was in the way Taehyung looked at you differently to the way he looked at that blonde girl. There was a connection you hadn’t felt since your ex-boyfriend and you had missed the excitement that coincided. The promise of new relationships - friendly and romantic alike.
However, Jin was quick catch on, being the protective brother was.
“You are never to go to one of those parties ever again,” he ordered before speeding down the driveway.
Like Jin could ever control you.
You found yourself being drawn to them. Every Saturday, without fail, you would sneak out your bedroom window to meet Taehyung waiting further down your street with the motor running. Before you’d end up at Hoseok’s, he’d drive you to a make out spot that overlooked a view of the lit up city at night. It was breathtakingly gorgeous despite the muffled moans from neighbouring cars. The first time he took you there you could tell a hook up was on his brain and sweaty palms aside, you were more than obliging. But instead, you got talking and that’s all you ended up doing. You told each other things you had never told anyone. You laughed until you cried. There was more than just attraction and that was the last time you ever got the sense he was coming on to you. And after that, surprisingly, the awe of him wore off. As you spent more weekends with him, he became less of an angelic being and more of a boy your age. The dazzle and charm of him developed into pure platonic fondness. As it did with Jimin. And then Hoseok and Yoongi when you met them.
*
You liked them for them and not for their looks, and Yoongi cherished that greatly. As corny as it sounded, it made you feel secure and warm and wanted. Just knowing for a fact, Yoongi wouldn’t let anything jeopardise your place in the group did wonders for your emotional stability.
“You could never scare me away,” you reassured him, in the cutest voice you could muster.
“Stop.”
You giggled at his reaction, as much as he pretended it disgusted him you knew he loved it. It was the glimmer of admiration in his face before he would twist it into a grimace. Jimin’s giggle filled the air and it was contagious.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Jimin teased.
Yoongi shoved his chair back and shot out of his seat, ignoring Jimin’s comment.
“Fuck it.”
“Where are you going?!” Taehyung questioned, containing his laughter.
You all watched Yoongi’s back as he stormed up to the locked door.
“What else are we gonna do huh?! It took you idiots hours to decide on this game.”
It was not hours, drama queen.
The other boys grumbled. They hated joining the party. As obnoxious as it sounded, it was because they were sick and tired of being continuously hit on. Every time they took a step out that door, girls would squeal and then a brave one would come up and try her luck. Now, any guy would be in heaven but these boys were different. Jimin was shy and even though the attention was flattering, he didn’t want it and never knew how turn it down. Taehyung loved the attention, but he also loved the chase, nothing screamed boring more than a girl that was easy. Yoongi was too into his music, he couldn’t care for anything else. And Hoseok, was Hoseok. He was too all over the place for a girl to try to tie him down, even if only for a hook up.
To the boys discomfort and displeasure, you loved to see it all unfold.
“Let’s do it!” You cheered, joining Yoongi.
They moaned again, Jimin throwing his head back to be extra dramatic before dragging himself out of his seat.
“Only if me and ____ play boyfriend girlfriend!” Taehyung declared sickeningly cute before Jimin had a chance to.
“What are we? 10 years old?” You snapped.
Jimin narrowed his eyes before shoving his fist out. He played paper. Taehyung played scissors. Jimin declared defeat, kicking his chair in frustration.Taehyung shook his fists in victory before approaching you with open arms.
“I didn’t agree to this, you brat!” You protested, fending his arms away. “I was Jimin’s girlfriend last time, now people are going to think I’m fucking you all!”
Taehyung immediately morphed into your little Tae. Doe eyes and all. “But I won paper, scissors, rock,” he mumbled sadly.
You groaned, unable to deny him. And honestly, why should you care what those drunk people downstairs thought of you.
“Fine.”
He joined your foreheads together, half headbutting you in his excitement. “Thank you ____,” he said before squishing your cheek against his own and squeezing the life out of you. You acted a dead weight until he was done.
“Ready?” Yoongi asked, hand on the doorknob.
You nodded, the other two meekly doing the same. It was a thrill actually attending these parties. It was never the same music or people and never the same dramas. As evil as it sounded, you were excited to see the dilemmas the boys would inevitably find themselves in this time. First stop, the kitchen, because you needed popcorn.
*
On cue, a few girls squealed and muttered to each other very loudly as you all descended. Taehyung had his arm draped around your shoulders in the most nonchalant way possible. You barely recognised it there before he’d occasionally yank on your neck to whisper in your ear. The looks you were given, you could only imagine criminals being looked at the same. It was beyond pathetic and absolutely hilarious. You could see the jealousy and frustration behind their eyes; that expression of realisation that they couldn’t have everything despite their parents enforcing they could. And being the bitch you were, you smiled at them and batted your lashes before shoving a hand down Taehyung’s back pocket. The gasps echoed through the room, it was iconic.
Jimin stuck himself strategically between yourself and Yoongi, who was leading the way. Before you all could make it even halfway into the living room, Jimin had ignored and ran away from his name whined thrice. The fourth time was gradually closer and he flinched like the soft baby he was, before picking up his speed. You didn’t mean to laugh at him but you did. He just looked so cute and small and scared, sticking to Yoongi like glue. His eyes almost popped out its sockets as this tall brunette came strutting up them, flipping her hair and winking. Now you felt bad, knowing Jimin would be petrified to tell this girl he wasn’t interested. To his relief, Yoongi had it sussed. With a flick of a wrist, he shooed her away, denying her the time of day. Jimin mumbled an apology at the girl’s baffled expression, before scurrying back to his friend’s side.
“Jiminie you’re so cute when you’re scared,” you teased him as you all finally made it to the kitchen.
He gave you a fake smile before flipping you off accordingly.
“Even his middle finger is cute,” Taehyung cooed, leaping over to him and grabbing his hand. “Look at his little hands!”
Seeing red, Jimin grabbed a loaf of bread, probably left on the counter by a drunken party goer trying to sober up and hurled it at Taehyung as he ran away.
“Ah!” Taehyung bellowed. “Violence is never the answer,” he joked, laughing like a madman.
The cocaine was definitely kicking in.
Just before Jimin could fire back, Yoongi was ordering for someone to text Hoseok. You volunteered, pulling out your phone as Taehyung draped an arm around your shoulder again and tried to feed you bread. You were beginning to regret agreeing to come downstairs with faded Tae. Drugs and crowds didn’t mesh well with him. He’d either be swinging from the chandelier or passed out in a closet and you were not in the mood for that sort of babysitting. You needed Hoseok, he always knew what to do these situations. They were his parties after all. You texted him your whereabouts. The kitchen was the most quiet room in the house on a saturday so it was always the meet up spot.
“I texted him,” you told Yoongi.
Yoongi nodded, too busy frowning at his lit up screen to answer. “Jin’s here.”
“That’s my cue!” You declared, ducking out of Taehyung’s embrace.
“Where are you going?” Taehyung asked in a panic.
“Where my brother isn’t. Can’t exactly let him think the coke is for me now can we?”
“But it is for you?” Taehyung questioned, scratching his head in confusion.
You sighed, patting his cheek pitifully.
“I’ll text you when he’s gone,” Yoongi said and you peered around Taehyung to nod at him.
You were praying that Jin either hadn’t entered the house yet or wandered off into the crowds. In order for you to sneak back upstairs, you had to actually get to the stairs and they were exactly opposite the front door. You were extremely cautious on your journey so far, zipping and weaving with your head down. Salvation was in sight. But just your luck, a voice hollered - your brother’s voice. You froze, contemplating just pretending you didn’t hear him but you knew that would be even more suspicious. You took a deep breath and turned around.
Jin hadn’t seen you. He wasn’t calling you. The person he was talking to hid from your view with the help of a few people at least a foot taller than you. Whoever it was had Jin’s full attention so it wasn’t a deal and it had you beyond curious. Jin didn’t have a lot of friends and the few he did have did not match the silhouette of the boy he was now talking to. You craned your neck for a better look, dying to know who it was.
Then Jin spotted you. Then said person turned around.
Your blood ran cold when your eyes locked. Time slowed down. Your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt strong but delayed. Your vision went blurry, everyone around you moved in slow motion. You didn’t even notice Jin shaking you and yelling, because your complete capacity to comprehend was fixated on him. What the fuck was he doing here? He smirked at you like he could read your mind. He emitted villainy with his long coat and black hair, looking like he was here to collect your soul. It was frightening, he was frightening. The aura that ran in his bloodline.
“What are you doing down here?” Jin had been questioning for the last ten seconds, although your ears only just begun to clarify his words.
“What is he doing here?” You croaked in panic and betrayal. “Why are you talking to him?!”
“Jin!” Hoseok bellowed with a chuckle, walking into an absolute shit storm without even realising. “I didn’t know you were making an appearance tonight!”
God, you loved Hoseok. His constant radiance and cheer never failed to make you happy… until now. And it made you want to cry to think even your precious Hobi couldn’t make this all ok.
“Why is she down here?” Jin interrogated him. “And why is she alone?!”
Hoseok was taken aback and let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah, sorry. She was with the others when I left.”
Then Hoseok spotted him and with a smile, went to greet him.
“Hello!” He greeted cheerfully before shaking his hand, “I’m Hoseok, please make yourself at home!”
You were cringing. He didn’t deserve your Hobi’s hospitality.
“Yeah, I know,” his deep voice replied. “I’ve been here before.”
“Oh!” Hoseok’s exclaimed, still serving his warm welcoming. “I’m sorry this is the first time we’ve met. I didn’t catch your name?”
“Namjoon.”
Hoseok just grinned like the ray of sunshine he was, completely unaware of who exactly was standing in front of him. And that was your fault. You hadn’t told the boys about Namjoon and a certain someone he was related to. Instead you just prayed this day would never come, that you would never have to be in his presence and face your past again. You should have told them. You should have told them. Hoseok was a networker and here he was, attempting to establish a connection and bond with Namjoon without knowing who he really was. Without knowing who his family was and who his family was to you. You had to save him.
“Go upstairs,” Jin ordered you one final time.
You were about to protest. There was no way you could leave without Hoseok, without telling him what was going on before it came from someone else’s mouth.
“I’d rather she didn’t,” Namjoon interrupted. “We need to catch up! It’s been awhile.”
“I have nothing to say to you!” You spat, nowhere near as confidently as you would have liked.
The chuckle that escaped his lips was dark and taunting. “Not even a ‘how are you? How is your family after I ran their reputation into the ground?!’”
You flinched away from him, shaking your head as if he was a hallucination and you could will him away.
“That wasn’t ____, that was your brother,” Jin defended you, stepping in front of him to shield you.
“Step aside,” Namjoon threatened so calmly it was scary.
“No.”
“I just need to talk to her.”
“No.”
Namjoon smirked. “Still fighting her battles huh?”
“Until the day I die.”
The tension was undeniable. You wanted to disappear as strangers quietened to watch the drama unfold. You must have looked as distressed as you felt because soon Hoseok was in front of you, your cheeks in his palms. He did this to prevent your panic attacks, sensing them before you could hit the ground, wailing.
“They’re all staring Hobi please.”
With a nod, he announced the party was over. Groans emitted everywhere, however everyone was quick to disperse. Within a few minutes the music was off and the foyer was empty.
“What’s going on-”
Taehyung, Jimin and Yoongi waltzed in, confusion plastered on their faces.
“Nothing! I’ll meet you guys upstairs.”
You forced a smile and it only made the three of them more uneasy. They each took a step forward, planting themselves within the situation. They were there to stay. You were dreading what they would think of you after this was over. You couldn’t bear it. This wasn’t happening.
Taehyung seemed to have sobered up, all staunch with a look of concern. “What’s going on?” He repeated.
“Nothing!” Namjoon chuckled. “I’m just checking up on my lil bro’s girl, that’s all.”
“What?” Jimin uttered, eyes bulging at you.
“She’s not his girl anymore,” Jin corrected, looking over his shoulder at your friends.
“She didn’t tell him that,” Namjoon argued. “Actually, she didn’t tell him anything at all because she’s the reason he’s where he is now and she probably still hates herself for it. What kind of person does that to the love of their life?”
“Wait, who?” Yoongi questioned, as far the boys knew you had never had a boyfriend.
The rage was building inside of you, your panic attack long forgotten.
“Ah! Of course you didn’t tell him. Little ____, always running away from her problems,” he continued to patronise and insult you. “Always running away from the consequences.”
That was it. You were charging, shoving Jin and Hoseok out of the way.
“You don’t know shit about me!” You yelled at him.
“Yeah not anymore,” he scoffed, looking down at you with discontempt, “but I did once. Who are you now?”
“This is me,” you huffed, “when I’m not in love with him.”
“Ah,” he sighed while scratching the back of his head nervously. “He’s not going to like that.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To relay him closure?” You sassed, unable to stop yourself. “You can tell that fucker that we were over from the moment he-”
“You can tell him yourself,” Namjoon interrupted with a sly smile.
“Now why would I go see him?” You bellowed, incredulously. “I never want to see his face again!”
Namjoon narrowed his eyes at your crazed ones.
“Ok, I guess I’ll have to tell him then. He’s not going to be very forgiving hearing it from me.”
You grimaced, completely unimpressed. “Do I look like I give a shit?”
“No,’ he deadpanned, “and you’re gonna regret it.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m not buying it,” he taunted.
“How?!”
“A love, like what you two had, doesn’t just go away,” he stated, “no matter how much of a bitch you’ve become or pretend to be.”
As soon as the word bitch came out of Namjoon’s mouth, Hoseok stepped in. “Ok time for you to leave, asshole.”
Namjoon cackled. “I’m not the asshole here,” he said, staring you down.
Trying to avoid his gaze, you stole quick glances at the boys. They we all silent, speechless. The looks on their faces were of utter disbelief as the gears began to gradually turn. You weren’t as perfect as they thought you were, as you portray yourself to be. And you could see it, that question in their eyes as they stared at you - who are you? This was not how you wanted them to find out. It made you absolutely livid, even more so now that this image of your former self was being painted by someone else. And that this someone else was playing coy enough for them to fill in the blanks with the worst they could imagine.
Why the fuck did we come downstairs?
“Why are you here, Namjoon?” You asked him one last time, through gritted teeth.
“To remind you ____!” He yelled and his deep voice boomed and echoed through the high ceilings. “You were family once, you know, and you can’t escape family.”
Namjoon spun on his heel and made his leave. You wanted to yell after him and demand what he meant but as he walked further and further away, your heart rate and breathing began to settle. The nightmare was almost over, he was almost gone. Suddenly, to your dismay, he stopped at the front door and you tensed noticeably.
“I’ll see you around. Sleep well,” he said with a wink before slamming the door closed behind him.
You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Taehyung attempt to engage with you, confused as ever. But before he had a chance to bombard you with questions, Jin held an arm against his chest.
“Take her upstairs and don’t let her out of your sight,” Jin ordered Taehyung coldly and then glanced at the rest of them. “Don’t let her come home for a couple of days, just while I sort this out.”
You scoffed, anger still coursing through you. You gave your brother a harsh look to express your disdain at his actions, at his emotionless attempt to protect you while disregarding your feelings and existence. Although his words were somewhat sweet - he couldn’t even give you a hug or check if you were ok? He could be so cold and clueless and inconsiderate sometimes, just like your father. It truly sickened you. You couldn’t face him any longer.
As soon as you ran upstairs, Taehyung stopped Jin for answers.
“Wait-”
“She’ll explain everything and try your best to be understanding when she does.”
“What about you?” Jimin chimed in.
“I’ll be fine,” Jin reassured them. “Just please, keep her safe.”
Jin looked at Yoongi especially and he nodded.
“Of course.”
And with that, Jin chucked his best friend your cocaine and made his leave.
*
You had hopped into Hoseok’s bed. By the time you felt four weights sink into the mattress around you, your anger had subsided into humiliation and dread. It was Jimin that convinced you to poke your head out from under the covers and the view was beautiful. Your four boys surrounded you, faces full of concern and love. Hoseok was lying next to you, Jimin sitting on your other side and Taehyung and Yoongi on the foot of the bed. All of them, ready and waiting for your explanation.
“We just want you to know,” Yoongi began, “no matter how bad it was, what you did, who you fucked - we don’t care. We still love you, ____.”
And as you sat up, you were in tears.
“I don’t even know where to start!”
“How about the beginning?” Hoseok suggested with a warm smile.
He always made things sound so easy. You snivelled, wiping your tears with Jimin’s help.
“It was about four years ago,” you began with a deep breath. “I was young and stupid and I thought I was in love. And you know, that kind of love can be really blinding.”
Having to actually talk about this, talk about him, brought horrible feelings of shame and regret that you thought you’d never have to experience again. And you couldn’t keep the tears from falling.
“Fuck, I really hate seeing her cry,” Taehyung murmured, unable to look at you.
“You don’t have to tell us if it’s too hard ____,” Jimin informed you sweetly.
“No,” you protested, “I can’t keep this a secret from you guys anymore. You deserve to know.”
“Ok, just take it slow,” Yoongi soothed you.
And so you did.
*
You met in high school. He was a bad boy, the bad boy that every guy was afraid of and every girl wanted to be tainted by. He drove this old mustang that roared through the school parking lot, half an hour after classes began and during recess. He smoked cigarettes and never wore colour. Everyone knew him but no one was friends with him, including you. You never took any interest in him or sought him out because embarrassingly, your world revolved around your girlfriends and the next social event. Occasionally, you’d see him at a party. He’d be hiding in the shadows, until he’d find his prey. It was always the most conservative girl, the one who’d look like she didn’t belong there. And then on Monday, she’d walk into class with a scarf around her neck, wincing while she’d lower herself onto her seat. The boys in class would snigger and one would slap him on the back. It made you livid. So many times you’d want to turn around and shout how disgusting he was but you never did, not wanting the inconvenience that would follow a proper interaction.
You were polar opposites and while that repelled you, it intrigued him. He’d always stare at you shamelessly in calculus. He’d always sit behind you and fiddle with your hair with his pencil in history. Despite this unwanted attention from him, it wasn’t too bothersome and frankly you were too scared to do anything substantial about it. He wasn’t charming. He didn’t send you winks or blow you kisses when your eyes met and he didn’t smirk or chuckle when you turned around to slap his pencil out of his hand. He’d only stare, challenging you to confront him properly. Challenging you to strut up to him after school where he always was, leaning against the hood of his car with a cigarette between his fingers and tell him to leave you the fuck alone. And for a good three years, you didn’t. You ignored his existence and never spoke a word to him. He was only an insignificant stereotype in your adolescent life. An irrelevant convention in your coming of age story.
*
“What changed?” Jimin questioned, knowing where the story was going.
You sighed.
“Dad made me heir to half of the business.”
*
You never wanted to inherit anything from your parents. You saw what the politics and money did to their relationships and your family. Reputation was all they cared about and what a better way to ruin that for them but to have a disgrace of a daughter. You thought, surely, if you did something so scandalous you would be written off and deemed an unworthy successor.
But, you were pristine from birth. You gravitated towards people with good grades and clothes and makeup pastel in colour. You really needed to leap out of your comfort zone for your plan to work. So, in a mindset of spite and determination, you strutted up to the boy leaning against the hood of his car with a cigarette between his fingers.
His eyes widened when you stopped in front of him. He was dressed in his signature skin tight ripped jeans with a black tee tucked in. The contrast between you two was immense and you couldn’t help thinking how it looked to the other students roaming around.
"Are you lost?” He asked you through a chuckle.
“No,” you snapped, readjusting the three textbooks in your arms.
He raised an eyebrow before walking around his car to slam down the hood. His car was known for breaking down and it wasn’t surprising considering the way he drove it. However it did wonders for his game, the girls at your school swooned for a grease monkey and admittedly, he pulled the look off tenfold. He tapped the hood twice for his brother to pump the gas.
“You wanna go out sometime?” You yelled at him over his loud engine.
“What?” He yelled back.
You rolled your eyes. “I said, do you wanna go out sometime?!”
He shook his head and pointed to his ear, insinuating he still couldn’t hear you. At this point, you were beginning to regret it. It was like the heavens were giving you a chance to escape from this idiotic idea. You almost turned to leave. You wish you did. God, you wish you did.
“DO YOU WANNA GO OUT SOMETIME?”
While fighting your inner turmoil as to whether you should have backed out or not, he had signalled to his brother to cut the engine. Everyone stopped and stared as your proposal seemed to have echoed through the parking lot. He chuckled, half rubbing his eye, half covering his face in second hand embarrassment. It was the first time you had ever seen him smile. His teeth, perfectly white and straight, were on full display. He looked like a little bunny boy, misplaced in leather with a cigarette. And surprisingly, it was really cute and your heart fluttered a bit.
*
“Hey! We don’t need to hear how much you were throbbing for this guy ok?” Taehyung cried.
Yoongi slapped the back of his head.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Look, if I’m going to tell this story, I’m telling all of it.”
They all nodded, signalling for you to continue.
*
“So she finally came around huh?” His brother chuckled, hopping out of the driver’s seat and slamming the door.
He refused to acknowledge him, staring holes into you. You started shuffling your feet, your nerves getting the better of you, worrying you just embarrassed yourself for nothing.
“You better give her an answer lil bro, she’s getting anxious,” he teased.
“You can go now Joon,” he disregarded him.
“‘Wow, thanks so much for helping me fix my car Namjoon, best brother ever!’” Namjoon jested.
He shot Namjoon a death glare and Namjoon raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, I’ll see you at home. Nice to meet you-”
“____,” you introduced as he jumped into his Range Rover and sped off just like his brother did everyday since you’d known of him.
Must run in the family, you thought.
“So?” You began.
“Why?”
You gulped, eyes doubling in size.
“Because, I want to?” You expressed in the most convincing tone you could muster.
“Are you sure about that?” He questioned again teasingly.
You scoffed, “Well, now, not really!”
He chuckled again at your irritability, something he wouldn’t quit from that moment on.
“Miss pristine wouldn’t just ask someone like me out,” he theorised.
“And why not?” You bit back, getting fed up with his hesitation.
You were not used to actually working for things instead of them being handed to you on a silver platter.
“Because look at you!” He pointed at you with his cigarette. “And I’ve been sussing you for years and you didn’t even have the time of day to tell me to fuck off.”
“What if I didn’t want you to?”
“HA! Bullshit. Go run back to the football field with your little cheerleader friends and Doug the buff doofus yeah?“
“Ugh please!” You whined, “Just go out with me ok?”
“She’s begging me now.”
“If you wanna put it that way, fine! Yes I am.”
“But why?” He probed once more.
This guy was not an idiot, to your dismay. It was easy to be convinced otherwise because he was hardly in class and when he was, his attention with fixated on you three quarters of the time. This was supposed to be easy. First, you had no attachment to him whatsoever and you weren’t attracted to him or his look. And second, he had been obsessing over you for the last three years, he should have jumped at the opportunity. But instead he was intuitive, perceptive, so you decided to be honest.
“Look, I just want to piss off my parents.”
He grinned.
“Ok,” he said before flicking his cigarette and walking to the driver’s door.
“Ok? Ok what?” You questioned, unable to play cool or bad or anything to attract this boy.
“I’ll pick you up at 8,“ he bellowed at you as he hopped into his car.
“Oh! Like in your car?” You asked, bending down to speak to him through his passenger side window.
“Well what else, my scooter?“ He chuckled.
“You have a scooter?!” You asked.
“Do I look like I own a scooter?“
You ignored that comment with a frown and he chuckled again. He turned his car on and attacked his gearshift.
"Wait! You don’t know my address? And where are we going?”
“Yes I do princess, and just wear that little white skirt you always wear on Wednesdays,” he smirked and then sped off.
*
“So this guy is basically a more stalkerish Taehyung?” Yoongi interrupted.
“Hey! So she has a type, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Taehyung defended himself.
“No that’s not the point-” you began.
“____, falling for the bad guy isn’t something to be ashamed of,” Hoseok added with a smile, “don’t beat yourself up.”
“Guys would you let her finish? She’s obviously telling us this for reason.”
You gave Jimin a look of gratitude.
“Exactly, you guys need to hear the normalcy to understand how it ended up the way it did,” you explained, “you need to understand he was just a guy, like all of you. Because otherwise you won’t by the time I’m finished.”
That shut them up, but you knew it was only temporarily.
*
You wished you took a picture of your parents’ faces when he pulled into your driveway. Instead of coming inside like a gentleman, he slammed on his horn. Nice touch, you thought as you ran downstairs while your parents’ bombarded you with questions. He honked the horn again and wolf whistled at you when you emerged from out the front door. Once he saw your parents in tow, he flicked his headlights off. Through the windscreen he looked like a parents’ nightmare with his leather jacket, cigarette and gaze that screamed trouble. And to top it all off, he smacked your ass when you ran past the driver’s side window.
“____ ______! I’m giving you three seconds to get your ass back inside,” your dad growled.
You ignored him, hopping into the passenger’s side.
“Sorry pops, her ass is mine tonight,” he yelled back through his window.
You could just make out your mum threatening to call the police as he sped out your driveway. You hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time.
“That was amazing!” You shrieked in delight, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I’ve never felt so… alive.”
He chuckled before slamming his foot down on the gas, going at least 80 kilometres per hour. You squealed.
“You better get used to it princess, we’re just getting started.”
Every friday for a month he took you to his brother’s parties, got you drunk and dropped you home at four in the morning. And then did the same the next night. Namjoon’s parties on a Saturday night were always more packed than on a Friday.
You never knew anyone there apart from him, so you were shameless. He found you quite entertaining. Instead of lurking around in silence like you’d witnessed him do at every party, he was engaging. He never left your side, fending away guys and laughing at your lame jokes and ramblings. He was so different to what you had expected. He was nice and somewhat chivalrous. To your surprise, you had spent midnight with him eight times and it came and went without him making a single move.
“You’re not how I’d thought you would be,” you admitted on the fourth weekend, once he dragged you outside so he could have a cigarette.
He raised an eyebrow at you and ashed. “How so?”
“You haven’t tried anything,” you gushed blatantly. “Am I not conservative or innocent enough for you?”
He threw his head back and cackled.
“Baby, you’re perfect,” he confessed without hesitation, “but you’re not ready for me.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot handle!”
He chuckled again. “Don’t overthink it. Let’s just enjoy the night, yeah?”
“You might as well just tell me not to breathe,” you retorted.
He grinned at you before pulling you against him.
"I thought I was only a means to piss off your parents,” he whispered in your ear.
The grip he had on your waist was rough. You could tell it was an act of lust alone and that’s not you wanted. It wasn’t what you were asking for. You could understand why he’d assume you’d want it this way as you’d never insinuated you wanted anything remotely affectionate from him when sober. You had to set the record straight.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t like you too,” you mumbled shyly.
He jerked back to look into your eyes suspiciously. His arms around you tensed. You were delving in dangerous waters called feelings. It was not what you signed up for and he knew it too.
“I call bullshit.“
"Why’d you think I stayed away from you all these years?! Because I knew if I had a taste of you I’d be screwed,” you blurted, now with nothing to lose.
He smirked, shaking his head as if you had gone crazy.
“It’s been a month, don’t pretend you don’t feel the same as I do,” you said softly.
He didn’t answer that, instead his eyes went dark and narrow. You took half a step back. Your little white skirt suddenly became very interesting as you fiddled with it anxiously. You could feel his eyes on you and his second hand smoke fanning your face. He flicked the butt away before grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks in one hand aggressively.
“Don’t you fucking dare assume our feelings are mutual,” he growled, “you don’t want anything to do with me! You never did!”
He stormed off, shoving you aside. You knew why he was angry. Understandably, he thought you were fucking him around, taking advantage of the soft spot he held for you. As far as he was concerned, you weren’t interested. During the week you’d go back to pretending he didn’t exist, too scared of what people thought. But what he didn’t know was that you were falling for him, hard.
He was different with you. Throughout your weekends together he revealed a side of himself hardly anyone had the privilege of seeing. He was caring and reliable and loyal in his own fantastically unique way. And boy, was he a good time. Traits, you couldn’t experience with your friends and their lack of depth. He was real and it was so refreshing in your existence of superficiality. He changed your life and view on everything. And now you were mad that you couldn’t just swallow your pride and protect his heart.
You eventually followed him outside and found him on the couch with his brother and his friends. They were laughing and it seemed he’d just forgotten all about you. He was the epitome of hot and cold.
“Take me home,” you demanded, interrupting their conversation.
He looked up at you, his grin dropping into a grimace. He sighed and got up while his boys booed and threw their empty beer cans at him. He motioned for you to take the lead while he bid his friends farewell, slapping a few hands.
The car ride was silent apart from his rock anthems mixtape still playing from the car ride to. It was weird not screaming out the lyrics with him. It was just weird full stop. Despite him speeding past intersections and red lights, it felt like the trip was in slow motion.
When you got to your house, you found the gates closed. They normally were and he’d give you boost so you could climb over. Tonight was no different. You got out of the car before him, wanting to get away from the enclosed tension as quick as possible. You refused to acknowledge him as you heard his car door slam. The shuffling of his feet got louder and soon his hands were on your waist, ready to lift you.
“Wait,” you spoke to him for the first time since you’d left the party, shoving his hands off of you.
He scoffed.
“You know what? I’m done!”
He was irritated and when he got in these moods, it was difficult for him to escape them. He was about to storm off but he paused and turned to rasp at you.
“Don’t ask me for anything ever again-”
You don’t know what came over you but before you could stop yourself your hands were in his hair and you were kissing him, hard. He caught your weight effortlessly as you practically threw your body at him. You could sense the relief by the way his shoulders just completely relaxed, as if this kiss cured all the anguish in his heart. As if this kiss proved he hadn’t just wasted three years of his life pining after a girl that he would never have.
You were getting carried away, especially when you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He growled, lifting you off your feet and adjusting your thighs around his waist as if you weighed nothing. He had to stretch his neck up to keep his lips against yours as he took a few steps towards his car and delicately laid you down on the bonnet. You were starting to get wanton with him leaning over you, his body engulfing your smaller frame entirely. You were surrounded, suffocated and you indulged. He felt like a drug, and you were an amateur, extra susceptible to the addiction. When he started pulling your hair back roughly and biting your lip when you’d separate, it had you begging for more. Your legs wrapped around him. You couldn’t help letting the little moans escape your lips. It was the danger that coincided with him, the taboo nature of it all. He was bad for you. It was wrong for you to get involved with him. You knew it from the start but the attraction to him and the idea of him was too strong. You made your bed, now you were lying in it.
Before he could slip a hand under your skirt, your porch light lit up and the automatic front gate opened. Your dad screaming for you to get inside, forced you two apart. He let you go with a smirk and then turned to bellow a smartass remark at your dad, who then told him to fuck off.
“Don’t you ever try to break up with me again,” you warned him, walking backwards towards your summoner.
His hair was a mess and his lipstick stained mouth stretched into a boyish grin. His whole demeanour had transformed back into the boy who dazzled you with his cold kindness and genuineness. And as ridiculous as it sounded, you knew, just then, that you were in love with him. It didn’t need to be spoken or labelled or justified. He had you as much as you had a hold on him. From that moment on, you were his.
*
The looks on the boys faces screamed they were relayed too much information. Taehyung’s was morphed the most.
“I’m gonna barf,” he groaned with a grimace.
Yoongi rolled his eyes at him. “Do you want to hear the story or not?!”
“I’m not too sure anymore,” he admitted with distaste.
“Just because it wasn’t you between her thighs,” Jimin provoked him.
Taehyung jaw clenched and he almost pounced at his friend. Yoongi held him down.
“Ignore them, ____,” Hoseok reassured you, squeezing your hand he’d been holding this entire time.
“Fine, I’m jealous! Who is this guy?!” Taehyung exasperated, fed up with the mystery and ego hurt by an unidentified character.
They all fell into silence. Taehyung was always the one to speak what the others thought. You knew they were dying to know who he was, but this was the only way you were able to share this story. You took a deep breath, deciding to be kind and give them his first name, common and a far link from his notoriety.
“His name was Jungkook.”
*
Your parents didn’t know his name. They didn’t care to know. To them his name was dropkick, druggie, lowlife and any other related pet names. Frankly, you didn’t care what they thought anymore. When they offered to let you out of your inheritance, you declined because it was under the condition you break with him. Every offer they gave you was under the condition you break up with him. Needless to say, you refused every time. Nothing could make you happier than Jungkook did.
For the rest of your last year of high school, you and Jungkook were inseparable. On the monday after that first kiss, Jungkook picked you up and drove you to school. Every head turned as you hopped out of his car and slid under his arm. You two were the talk of the school and eventually it pushed your friends away. You were the most popular pristine girl in school gone wayward. And you didn’t give a fuck. Jungkook was the only thing that matter to you, your world revolved around him now.
After few months, you changed. The influence of him was too dominant to resist. Gone were the pink fluffy sweaters and pony tails, replaced with one of his many leather jackets and wild hair. It was a classic Sandra-dee transformation. And despite Jungkook’s weakness for little innocent girly girls, he loved it. You were his good girl gone bad, he’d tease.
“Fuck, I would die for you, ____,” he groaned through a kiss.
You were in his lap, his lap in the driver’s seat. He had parked outside a diner you’d go for late night milkshakes. His gear shift dug into your side and your head banged against the roof, but there was no place you’d rather be.
“Uh huh,” you replied, refusing to leave his lips for longer than a second.
“I’m serious, I would die and kill for you.”
You pulled away, leaning against the steering wheel. He’d never use the word love. Instead he would use intense alternatives, he adored you, he never felt anything remotely the same as he felt for you, you were the only one, he never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. It was like he had this unwavering insecurity you’d leave him, that he’d scare you away with the word ‘love’. As contradicting as that sounded by the things he’d say instead.
“Let’s hope you’ll never have to,” you murmured, running a hand through his hair in comfort.
“But I would,” he reiterated softly.
There was such intensity in his eyes it made you shiver. And you believed him. You believed he loved you that much. And shamefully, the thought went straight to your core.
“Take me home.”
Jungkook looked bewildered then his eyes drifted away from you in disappointment, his jaw clenched. He patted your thigh to signal for you to hop back into your seat. You refused, grabbing his face and grinding into his growing bulge.
“Take me home.”
His dark eyes lit up with pure desire. He cocked an eyebrow before smirking and attacking your face one last time. You threw yourself back into your seat with a giggle. Jungkook drove like a madman, but the way he reversed and sped down the road that night truly topped the cake.
Sparing the details, you fucked that night and to this day, Jungkook was the best you ever had. He was rough as fuck and forced your orgasms but at the same time, he appreciated your body. He listened to it and soothed it after doing all the kinky shit he was into. It was fair to say you were ruined, a complete sap for him, as much as he was for you. You never thought you would have such a high sex drive. You never thought you would ever be as needy for anything as much as you were for his cock. But that’s what you turned into - what Jungkook did to you. You always had to be around him, always with him, always touching him.
It was a month before graduation and you had flunked. Whenever he would ditch, you would too. Thankfully both your parents were rich and could buy your grades. They made it too easy for you both. You both had no desire to do anything, except each other.
It was a week before graduation, before you’d be sent to university overseas and him, forced into the family business as his father’s precious protégée. They were separating you. Your worlds were ending. You both weren’t ready for the responsibility or the heartbreak.
It was a few days before graduation and you were on your Friday night cruise, screaming the lyrics to rock ballads as Jungkook drove a hundred kilometres per hour. Every now and then, he’d grab and suck your face hotly, eyes off the road for seconds too long. The thrill was almost unbearable, as if you’d be close to losing not only your life but your sanity.
He parked in a secluded reserve overlooking a lake, the stars shimmering in the water. You drifted into quiet, savouring the moment, knowing they were limited. The soft guitar riffs from the car stereo set this serene, longing mood. Jungkook’s hand slid between your thighs, a plea for you to come over and straddle him, so you did. You wriggled yourself comfortable without the familiar feeling of rock pushing into your inner thigh, which confused you because he was usually a goner as soon as your clothed core would simply brush against him. He trapped your head between his calloused palms, always slightly tinged black from grease. His eyes held that intensity that made you weak and they glazed over at the sight of you. You could faintly make out your silhouette in his dilated pupils and it gave you an overwhelming need to stay there, in his eyes forever. You ignored that deep darkness behind them that you always had sensed was there. You wanted to believe he was perfect, because he damn felt like it.
“Listen,” he began, clearly something important on his mind.
“Runaway with me,” you breathed, connecting foreheads.
His eye widened, his skepticism emerging and he retracted.
“Don’t,” you whimpered. “I love you Jungkook and I can’t bare the thought of not being with you for even a second please.”
He searched your face for any hint of hesitation, but there was none.
“She’s begging me now,” he chuffed with a satisfied smirk.
"I love you Jungkook,” you repeated, now unsure if he heard you the first time.
You both fell into a silence that lasted way longer than you would have liked. You hated when he did this to you, leaving you in suspense. However as much as you hated it, it also intrigued you. It was the mystery of him that had you hooked. You thought he would wail at your confession and suffocate you with his lips but instead, he stared. He was unpredictable and wavering and it tortured you. But like the masochist you were, you loved it because it was undeniably him and you were in love with him.
“Ok,” he finally said, before turning the key in the ignition.
His engine roared to life and you flopped into your seat.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s something you need to see,” he admitted.
You only nodded when he took his eyes off the road for a second to look at you. You could tell it was serious by the way his knuckles protruded clutched to the steering wheel and the way his jaw clenched and sharpened. Jungkook was intense about a lot of things, but you had never seen him before in the way he was then. His vibe wasn’t awkward or brooding or anything identifiable as Jungkook. It was like you were in the car with someone else entirely.
When Jungkook pulled up to the front of the dive bar ‘Hunt’, you were beginning to get uneasy. You knew this bar and it’s red neon sign and it’s grotty exterior. It was notorious. Your little sheltered self began to panic.
“Jungkook-”
“Do you trust me?” He interrupted, forcing eye contact.
Instantly, your racing heart calmed. Your breathing steadied. The power he had over you, unfaltered.
“With my life.”
“Good,” he kissed your forehead and smiled, “I won’t be long, stay.”
And you did. He slammed the door behind him and searched for something in his back pocket. A man sat outside the bar and Jungkook seemed to be heading straight for him. He stopped after discovering his pockets empty, his boots scraped the wet concrete as he turned and sent a wink your way. You narrowed your eyes and scoffed at his cheap attempt to be charming. As you watched Jungkook backtrack towards you through the windshield, you spotted his cigarette packet on the dashboard.You weren’t a big smoker then. Jungkook never offered and you were always too shy to ask. However it did make him smile when you’d pinch one from his packet or pull his hand towards your face for a drag of his already lit.
You helped yourself, wincing as the smoke burned your throat. You were too busy coughing and manually winding the window down to notice Jungkook slamming his boot closed. You eyes were watering a bit too much for you to see what he dragged across concrete as he walked back towards the man outside the bar. Even without these setbacks, nothing would be able to prepare or warn you for what happened next…
The man stood up once he recognised Jungkook.
“Jeon, what the fuck man you’re early?” You heard him bellow. “Suk isn’t here yet and you know he’ll run if he sees you.”
“Suk isn’t the job anymore,” Jungkook replied coolly.
Jungkook stopped directly under the neon sign. The fluorescent light shone down upon him tinting his black silhouette the colour of blood. He was shorter than the other man however his presence was stronger, more menacing, almost demonic with the red hue highlighting his frame. His back was facing you but you could just sense the stare he was giving this man. It was his infamous stare down his perfect nose, jawline protruding, with that borderline frightening smirk. You knew the look at too well. But this was different, his body language was different and you were struggling to put your finger on how. And the fear of this unknown side of Jungkook had your mind reeling.
What the fuck was going on?
“What?” the man exclaimed, “What do you mean?”
“He’s not the job anymore,” Jungkook reiterated.
His tone was so foreign to you, it made you shift uncomfortably in your seat. It was like the voice coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth wasn’t your boyfriend’s at all. It was cold and dark but not the cold and dark you’d normally associate with him. No, this tone was twisted, monotone but mocking.
“So? No job?” The man questioned apprehensively.
Jungkook chuckled. “Oh, there’s still a job.”
You were too immersed in the conversation and trying to figure out who this mystery man was. So much so, you didn’t see what Jungkook was holding. Your eyes followed his toned arms that you’d relish within when he held you, all the way down to the hands and palms you’d kiss lovingly, all the way down to the bat his hand held. A baseball bat with nails sticking out like a fucking medieval mace. Your whole body went numb.
“You.”
Before you had a chance to scream, Jungkook had swung his bat and lodged it into the man’s skull. The most sadistic noise you had ever heard left his mouth, it was like a satisfied grunt and then a manic howl. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t function or process. You just sat there and watched as the life left a man’s eyes… by your boyfriend’s hand.
As he ripped his weapon free, the man’s blood and brains sprayed everywhere, Quentin Tarantino style. If you had to vomit you swallowed it as Jungkook took another swing. The guy was dead but he took two extra blows to his chest, cackling. He was enjoying it. The blood, the gore, the violence, he seemed to indulge in his work, his sick artistry. And that’s what truly made you terrified and disgusted to the very core.
You were frozen. Every fibre of your being was screaming at you to run, but you couldn’t as if the shock and adrenaline stunted your movements. All you could do was sit there and watch as Jungkook continued to maim a dead body, hitting it over and over, blood and flesh flying everywhere. If you could speak you would scream for him to stop, despite the fact he probably wouldn’t in his crazed trance. A few more blows to the stomach and he stopped, hovering over the human he just mutilated. His chest was heaving as he wiped his forehead with the back of his bloody hand, smearing his face red.
To say you were beyond horrified was an understatement. You found your hand itching the door handle, sensing your fight or flight mode kicking in. You only had a few seconds, you calculated. Assessing your surroundings, you figured your best shot was to run down the alleyway onto the main road screaming bloody murder, literally. You almost followed through, almost, until you realised there was no way you’d be able to outrun him. He was the star batter of the baseball team until he got kicked out of the team for starting a fight with the pitcher. He would catch you within seconds and there would be no way you’d be able to get away. He was the star wrestler until he got kicked out of the wrestling team for breaking a kid’s arm during a match. You started to panic, the only thought running through your mind being that the love of your life was about to kill you.
Your few seconds were up. As he turned to you in a snap and stormed closer, you had accepted your fate. Jungkook attempted to open your locked door and you refused to look out your window to see the disappointed look on his face. You heard him sigh and then rummage for the car keys. You winced as he slowly jiggled the key into the lock and opened the door. You still couldn’t look at him, not until his hands were on you and you were pressed up against the car door. It took every fibre of your being not to breakdown under his crazed gaze. He was even more terrifying up close, especially because he was suddenly so damn calm, as if he could snap at any moment. You willed yourself not to shake in his grasp.
“Say it again,” he mumbled.
“W-w-wha-”
“SAY IT AGAIN!”
And there it was. You would have jumped out of his grasp if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. He then grabbed a handful of your hair and cupped your face with the other hand. The blood was everywhere, all over you, the stench of copper too strong to deny was real. You really couldn’t hold it in any longer. So, you cried.
“Tell me again baby. Just- ah FUCK,” Jungkook bellowed before wiping your tears with bloody fingers. “Tell me again, those three little words. I need to hear them again.”
“I love you,” you croaked.
He smiled, that toothy grin you had fallen in love with. You choked on a sob, seeing that same smile on a blood smeared face, completely tainted. He stroked your face and cheeks affectionately, as if he wasn’t painting your face red. You naturally squirmed but tried your best to keep those reflexes at bay and unnoticed. However, surely, you could have spat in his face and he wouldn’t pay any mind to it. He was completely delirious, high off adrenaline from just taking a life and drunk in his love for you.
“I love you too.”
And then his lips were on yours, his tongue in your mouth. You reluctantly followed his lead in the kiss, overwhelmed with the smell and taste of metal, digging your nails into his biceps to stop the tears from falling. He broke away eventually and knocked his wet forehead against yours to rest. The feeling of overwhelming heartbreak was the last thing you had expected after hearing those three little words.
*
The four boys stared at you in silence for a good minute. You were pretty sure you heard Yoongi mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath but you all ignored it. You really needed them to say something soon or you were sure a panic attack would be due. However, what could you expect them to say after you just told your best friends of two years that you dated a murderer?
“Wait. Did you say Jeon?!” Yoongi questioned.
You nodded.
“As in Jeon Jungkook?” Yoongi questioned further.
You nodded again.
"Jeon Jungkook? The heir to the most infamous drug cartel in the world? That Jeon Jungkook?” Yoongi questioned for a third time.
You nodded for a third time.
“Holy shit ____!” Taehyung chimed in, in an almost disappointed tone.
“Look, I sent him to prison!”
“How?!” Jimin asked, wide eyed.
You sighed, that bit of information was why Jungkook had been a secret for so long. Everyone knew he was in prison but no one knew why or how and that was because, if people knew, it was your ass and your life on the line. But, you had come this far and they deserved the whole truth.
“I told him we should run away the next day, as soon as we could but he told me he had some business he needed to take care of first and we would leave after said business, which, now I knew what that was exactly. So, I ran to my parents and got them to send an anonymous tip on my behalf, so there was no way it could be traced back to me,” you explained.
You glanced at Taehyung, ready for the ‘princess running to mummy and daddy’ dig, but it never came. So you continued.
“At first it was a drug bust, he got done for possession with intent to supply class A drugs but once they searched his car they found enough evidence to link him to at least four murders.”
In that moment you turned to Hoseok and you wished you didn’t. He had the most shocked expression on his face and you had no idea why you had expected any different. So, you turned your attention back to Yoongi who managed to hold a disinterested expression the whole time.
“Jesus,” he mumbled.
Despite those few little remarks intended to go unnoticed.
“You did the right thing, ____,” Jimin attempted to comfort you, placing a hand on your knee.
You were grateful for the reassurance however it didn’t help the fact you had to uncomfortably live your wretched past. You thought you’d feel better being honest with your friends but instead it made you feel disgusted. You guessed that you never truly mourned the loss of Jungkook. You were just forced to forget him and pretend he never existed. And that never allowed you to come to terms with the fact that the man who you thought was the love of your life was not who you thought he was entirely.
“Ok so, what did this whole story have to do with the guy from before?” Taehyung asked.
“That was Jungkook’s brother, you idiot. Weren’t you listening?” Jimin reprimanded.
Taehyung was about to rebut but you interrupted this time.
“It turns out the secret’s out and he’s off to tell Jungkook.”
“We’ll keep you as safe as we can ____,” Yoongi pledged to you.
“Of course,” Taehyung chimed in. “But, he’s in jail? What can he do?”
Yoongi shot him a look of annoyance. “You really weren’t listening to the story, were you?”
“His family are powerful Tae, more powerful than all of ours combined,” Jimin connected the dots for him. “If they know ____ was the reason their precious heir is rotting in jail, she’s in a lot of danger-”
“I’m not,” you interrupted.
All the boys looked at you like you were out of your mind.
“The Jeon brothers keep their affairs to themselves,” you explained. “They hardly ever get their family involved, they’re too proud to run to mum and dad.” Unlike me, you almost added.
“Let’s hope so,” Yoongi sighed.
“And with Jungkook in prison, Jin can handle Namjoon,” you stated, staring at Yoongi who knew that statement about your brother to be true and he nodded.
There was a brief silence until Hoseok jumped up with a huff.
“Although you are safe, here, with us. I better check all the doors are locked and there aren’t any stranglers,” he said with a small smile.
You returned it and reluctantly let him slip his hand free from yours. “Ok Hobi.”
“I’ll come help you,” Yoongi offered, knowing Hoseok’s home was too big to cover alone.
As soon as the oldest boys left, Taehyung crawled up to where Hoseok was lying and tucked himself in. Jimin tapped your thigh, signalling for you to move over so he could do the same on the other side of you. You got yourself comfortable. Sandwiched between your two best friends, gave you the strongest sense of security and relief that you hadn’t felt in a while.
“You are an amazing brave girl and we’re gonna make sure that that monster- or any other monster like him won’t touch you ever again,” Jimin whispered to you before resting his head on your back. You looked at Taehyung and he nodded in agreement.
Goddamn, you loved them. You wished you could spend forever coddled by them, you wished you could believe them. But, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, this time, you couldn’t just shove the memory of Jungkook aside. And that his chapter in your life was far from over.
next chapter
#networkbangtan#jungkooknet#btscreatorsnet#bangtanbuds#taeguknetwork#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook#bts#bts fanfics#jungkook fanfic#taehyung fanfic#bts angst#bts smut#taehyung#bts scenarios#fatal attraction 01#mine*fic#mine#i just wanna say thank you to all my gals that supported me throughout this#i love you all alot
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Hef Tragedy Jam
Hugh Hefner died yesterday. When the news was announced, over fifty women said they were dismayed. No, wait...over fifty women said they were “Miss May”. Fifty more were Miss June, and, well, you get the picture. If you were lucky you got their pictures.
Few of you reading this are old enough to remember that Playboy magazine was about the only place you could see a naked woman, and I say that because there are probably few of you reading this, period. But hey, my column gets more readers than the average suicide note, statistically speaking. Although I’m trying to increase my readership, and the average suicide note is more of a stand-alone project. I bet if George Lucas ever wrote a suicide note, he’d follow it up with three prequel notes. Each successively worse than the last. People would be like, “Why did he have to ruin that original suicide note, which I loved, with those awful prequel-suicide notes? I don’t care why he got depressed, but clearly only a manic depressive could make such a desperate cry for help as introducing Jar-Jar Binks. If I ruined a billion dollar franchise by coming up with an offensive racist caricature like Jar-Jar Binks, I’d probably consider putting a lightsaber in my mouth too.”
I grew up with Playboy magazine, and my early knowledge of female physiology was less from a volume of Grey’s anatomy or sketches by DaVinci, and more from volumes of Playboy magazine. It was like a reference guide, one that you would hold up with one hand. In fact, the first time I had a girlfriend who got naked, I wondered where her staples were. Of course, today, I’m the one who should have his stomach stapled, but that’s another story. Ah, sweet irony!
I’m sure Hugh Hefner went to Heaven, but whatever gleaming Mansion in the sky awaits us, no matter how glorious, for Hugh Hefner it’s going to be a pretty big step down from the Playboy Mansion. It may actually be Seventh Heaven, but Hef has been living on Cloud Nine since 1956. But, hey, he’s already wearing a robe. You know when you see depictions of Heaven, everybody is always wearing white robes? That’s because they were wearing those white robes in the hospital when they died. And they make you wear those awful robes that don’t close in the back because that’s where your wings will come out when you get to Heaven. It’s all part of God’s plan. I bet you’ll still have that plastic wristband on too, St. Peter just scans it at the gate to let you in. <beep> “Cardiac arrest. You’re good. Check in at the registration desk. Have a valid photo ID ready.”
Hugh Hefner was such a consummate pussyhound, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a deathbed conversion to radical Islam, just to get the 72 virgins in Heaven. God would be like - I mean “Allah” would be like, “Pretty tricky Hef, pretty tricky. But...technically it counts. You old horndog!” Of course, you know what Hugh Hefner calls 72 virgins? A slow Tuesday.
The Playboy Mansion was famous for its out-of-control parties, and the mansion had a natural cave-like grotto on the grounds where everyone would go to snort coke and have sex. I guess Hef was a lot like Bruce Wayne, a millionaire with a mansion and a cave. And didn’t they call Bruce Wayne a millionaire playboy? Hef was a Playboy millionaire. But the difference is, Hef would rather do coke and fuck super-models whereas Batman would rather do-good and fight super-villains. Plus, Batman slides down the Bat-pole, and crazy hot chicks slide down the Hef-pole. In other words, Hef was sane, and Batman was, well, not so much. Batman is basically a billionaire who just wants to hurt people and not get sued for it and pretend he’s a hero. Kind of like Trump.
The grotto cave on the grounds of the Playboy Mansion had a huge, heated Jacuzzi pool, where movie stars, rock and roll gods, and celebrity athletes were eagerly humped by groupies, star-fuckers, and aspiring playmates. Unprotected 1970’s sex was messier than Michael J. Fox eating an ice cream cone, so the pool was probably 60% water, 2% spilled cocaine, and 38% James Caan’s jizz. The lifeguard got syphilis just from giving mouth to mouth resuscitation. At least that was her story. But that was about the same time Grand Funk Railroad was in town, so who can say? I do think ‘grotto’ must be the Italian word for ‘gross’.
I hear some of the more politically correct crowd, or as they’re more commonly known, nitwits, complaining that Playboy exploited women. And I guess it was exploitation, in the same sense that Vogue magazine is exploiting the mostly-naked teenage anorexic girls slash super-models in their magazine. And I say slash because that’s what these girls often try to do to their wrists. Unlike Vogue magazine models, at least the Playboy women didn’t have eating disorders. They’re a lot less likely to stick their fingers down their throats. I’m not saying they’re any less likely to have something down their throats, but not their fingers.
Exploiting women. As if Hugh Hefner was hanging around the Newark bus station looking for a girl down on her luck and fresh off the turnip truck from Topeka. That sounds more like the plot of a 1930’s movie than the way his business empire was run. I think what Hef did was have his photography editors, both men and women, spend endless hours going through duffel bags of mail sent in by thousands of women from all around the country who wanted to pose for Playboy. The staff would narrow it down to probably a few dozen, and then get Hef’s opinion on who was not only the most beautiful, but who had the look that would be right to feature in the magazine. That’s exactly what the editors and publishers do at Elle, and Vogue, and every other magazine that holds up a particular brand of beauty as an ideal.
And I don’t know any women who haven’t worn out the related links on their favorite porn sites jilling off to whatever their particular porn flavor might be, so who exactly are these people that still have a problem with Playboy? Because without Hefner’s decades of battles against governmental and religious censorship, there would be no porn sites. Hef made it possible to look at porn sites without pretending you go there for the articles. Without Playboy, people would still be saying, “Did you read that insightful article on the humanitarian crisis in Darfur? And that recently-found short story by J.D, Salinger?” “Why, yes. I particularly liked the profile of Jazz trumpeters from the post-bop era. And I did notice some delightful porn as well, between the articles, of course.”
The reason Hef could get away with putting in naked chicks is his magazine is because Playboy was a serious, respected literary magazine. The greatest writers of the day were in Playboy:
Ray Bradbury wrote original content for Playboy, and serialized Fahrenheit 451, which was coincidentally the exact temperature of how hot the playmates were.
The Beat writer Jack Kerouac wrote for Playboy, and that cat was cool as hell. Beat, Jack, that is exactly what Playboy readers do.
Ian Fleming published short stories in Playboy, and the James Bond novel “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” was published first in Playboy. We all know James Bond got enormous amounts of pussy. But compared to what Hef was getting, James Bond looks like a bible salesman with erectile disfunction. Or a guy who works in a comic book store. Think about that for a minute; the world’s sexiest pussyhound spy still gets less women than the guy who published the magazine his story is in. And Bond is fictional!
Roald Dahl wrote for them, too. The author of “Willie Wonka” writing for people who wonka their willies, sounds apropo.
Kurt Vonnegut wrote for them all the time, and that dude was cooler than Ice Nine. There’s a reference for ya!
Joseph Heller published a lost chapter of “Catch-22” in Playboy. I think the title Catch-22 might be the number of social diseases you’d get if you had sex in the grotto.
Margaret Atwood, author of “The Handmaid’s Tale” started writing for Playboy in 1991. I would imagine one of her stories was called “The Handmaid’s Tail”.
Hunter S. Thompson. Gabriel García Márquez, John Updike, Joyce Carol Oates, Truman Capote, they all wrote for Playboy. This magazine was the real deal, kids, it was smarter and cooler than absolutely anything you know today. You see, all of these stories were longer than 140 characters. Or even 280.
I actually learned quite a bit about culture from Playboy, between rounds, if you know what I mean. By middle school I could discuss the literary feud between Gore Vidal and Norman Mailer in English class and sound like a friggin’ genius, I just couldn’t tell the teacher where I learned it. “Where did I learn that? Oh, you know. Around. Literary journals, and the like. At that building that has all the books. Yes, exactly, the library! That’s the one! I frequent that establishment, I‘ll have you know.” What was I gonna say? My father’s sock drawer?
The Playboy Interview was legendary, they were deep, involved discussions, frank and uncensored. Here are some of the people they interviewed: Salvador Dali, Patty Hearst, Groucho Marx, Ansel Adams, Stanley Kubrick, The Beatles, Albert Schweitzer, Buckminster Fuller, Orson Welles, Peter Sellers, Abbie Hoffman, Tennessee Williams, Erica Jong, Allen Ginsberg, and Bertrand Russell. Then there are the so famous they’re known by just one name: Fellini, Castro, Brando, Nehru, Sartre, Bowie, Nabokov, Hoffa, Carson, Antonioni, Mastroianni, Gleason, and Sinatra. And Playboy was woke, they interviewed Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., Alex Haley, Miles Davis, Muhammad Ali, Eldridge Cleaver, Dick Gregory, and Huey Newton. Holy shit, right? Who do you see interviewed today? Kardashians? Ryan Gosling? Taylor Swift, but interrupted by Kanye West? This time we live in today has less culture than a petri dish.
Hef lived so long that most people today have no real idea how influential he was, what an important cultural icon he was, and that he somehow talked Marilyn Monroe into posing naked on the cover of the very first issue of his magazine way the hell back in 1956. That’s a dude with the Kavorka, big-time. And nobody was naked back in 1956. Not in this country. In 1956, people showered wearing a suit and tie, and apart from time shampooing, a smart fedora. They say people were more cultured back then because they went to art museums, bullshit, I think they only went to art museums to see the nudes in the oil paintings. You would too, and you know it, don’t even try to deny it. You’d say you were admiring the Titian, but you were really just admiring the Tit.
Nearly every issue, Playboy featured a very prominent celebrity with a well-established career and respected in her field who actually wanted people to see how beautiful she was without any clothes. Starting with Marilyn Monroe. And she was smoking hot, too, an icon in her absolute prime. Future historians will be more grateful for that photo shoot than they are for the discovery of the Nag Hammadi texts. Where do you go from there, Playboy? Well, how about Farrah Fawcett, the biggest sex-symbol of the entire 1970’s! The list of gorgeous, talented, famous, successful women that wanted to pose for Playboy might be hard for you to imagine, as you live in an age where women pose in magazines like Maxim with their clothes on! And men today pay to see that? Wtf? Man, I can see women with their clothes on just about anywhere I go. I can see that in line at the deli counter, I don’t need to pay for it.
Here are just a few, a very few, of the already-famous women who chose to pose with no clothes:
Daryl Hannah. Olivia Munn. Kim Basinger. Charlize Theron. Drew Barrymore. Denise Richards (she had kids with Charlie Sheen, so posing for Playboy was comparatively a relatively sound decision). Shannen Doherty. Belinda Carlisle. Jayne Mansfield. Mariel Hemingway. Margaux Hemingway. Nastassja Kinski. Sharon Stone. Rosanna Arquette. Vanna White. Elle MacPherson. Brigitte Bardot. Uma Thurman. Kate Moss. The list is almost endless. I almost said bottomless, but being Playboy, “bottomless” goes without saying.
Sure, the last decade and a half weren’t great for Hef, but who stays cool past the age of 75? Only Bob Dylan and Picasso. Hef couldn’t let it all go, and at the end it was pretty sad. It was like Sunset Boulevard with viagra. But I’ll miss the Hef of fifty years ago, that man was at the forefront of political movements, cultural progress, gay rights, equal rights, reproductive rights, and the right to take your goddamn clothes off if you feel like it.
This may be the first funeral where you should bring condoms. In lieu of flowers, please give blowjobs. So long, Hef. Thanks for the mammaries.
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