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eomayas · 11 months

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exo getting caught simping for you

a/n: it’s ok to be a simp! some are suggestive (jongdae, baekhyun, sehun) this is a bit long btw!

minseok: “i miss you,” he says into the phone, cradling it to his ear. he can practically hear your smile when you respond with i miss you too. “what are you doing right now?” he asks, pulling the blanket closer to his chin and snuggling deeper in the bed. minseok wishes it was you that he was lying with, and not these hotel pillows.

“talking to you,” you reply cheekily. minseok giggles at this the way only a person in love would. “baby, you should probably get some sleep. you have a show tomorrow.” you say and he sighs, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.

“but i want to talk to you!” he whines, somewhat like a child would. you only scoff and tell him that he can call you in the morning after he’s had some rest. “fine. i love you, honey!” he says, just as the hotel door opens and jongin and baekhyun walk in, jongin making a face at him and baekhyun laughing.

“i love you, honey!” jongin mocks, bursting into a fit of giggles. “is that jongin?” you ask, amusement in your voice.

minseoks cheeks turn red. “yes, goodnight, y/n,” he says, rushing to get off of the phone.

“don’t hang up on me!” you say, letting out a light laugh at his embarrassment.

“y/n,” he groans, burying his face into the pillow. jongin and baekhyun are quietly waiting for him to say something so cheesy and incriminating, so that they can use it against him later.

you giggle and sigh. “alright. goodnight minseokie, i love you. tell jongin i love him too,” you say, blowing him a kiss into the phone before hanging up. minseok would have blown one back, but he is already getting mocked by his younger members and can’t handle the teasing he’s going to get for the next few days.

“minseokie!” baekhyun yells, making smooching sounds at him. jongin giggles and joins in, the two men jumping onto his bed and shouting the nickname and pretending to be you on the phone.

minseok wishes he was dead.

junmyeon: “please don’t leave,” your boyfriend groans, burying his face into your neck, holding you close to him. you rub your hands up and down his back soothingly. “come with?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you with wide eyes.

“no,” you say, punctuating it with a kiss. suho let’s out a groan and a fake cry, and you laugh. “you’re such a baby.” you say, running your hands through his hair.

“yours,” he says quietly, and you smile, squeezing him tightly before patting his back and telling him that he needs to get ready to leave. junmyeon stands up straight and looks down at you, a dejected look i’m his face.

“oh my god, you’re so dramatic!” you say, and he cracks a small smile. you gently whack him on the chest and clutches your hand in his, settling it over his heart. “it’s only a few days.” you say, rubbing his forearm with your free hand.

junmyeon juts out his bottom lip slightly. “i dont know what i’ll do without you,” he says, and a brief snort makes you both perk up and look around for culprit, finding sehun wheeling his suitcase behind him.

“you’re so dramatic,” sehun says to junmyeon, laughing at his leader and older friend. junmyeons face sobers, turning bright red at his youngest member making fun of him and seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

“go away,” junmyeon all but whines and stomps his foot as he says it, making you giggle at him. he rolls his eyes at you and you wave goodbye to sehun who (for once) listens to what junmyeon tells him to do. “this isn’t funny.”

“it kind of is,” you say, grabbing his hands and pulling him closer to you. he continues to pout, even after you cradle his face in your hands and smush his cheeks together. “i love you, junmy.” you say. he only hums in response and you gasp, letting go of him. “say it back, asshole!”

he smiles and pulls you back towards him. “i love you, y/n,” he says, his voice sincere. junmyeon puts his hands on your hips and leans down to your level, brushing his nose with yours. he gets close to your lips and you pull back slightly.

“i’m gonna miss you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes. he gives you a soft smile, and this time you let him kiss you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. it’s probably too intimate of a kiss for public, but neither of you show any signs of caring.

“we’re leaving without you!” minseok and jongin shout, breaking up your kiss with your man. junmyeon sighs and goes back to pouting almost immediately, and you gently push him away from you and towards his group members who are starting to board the jet. “hurry up, lover boy!” minseok shouts before disappearing into the jet.

“go,” you say, pulling away from him at last. junmy sighs again, finally starting to head towards the jet, looking over his shoulder at you dramatically like they do in the movies. you giggle at that and wave once he gets up to the door of the plane. “i love you!” you shout, and rather than getting a response from him, the rest of the exos shout. “i love you too!”

baekhyun: you smile at your boyfriend on facetime as he hums absentmindedly. he’s looking away from the camera, and you get a nice view of his side profile. “baek,” you say, resting the side of your head in your palm.

“hmm?” he says and turns to the camera, a soft smile on his face. you smile back at him, hearts probably taking the shape of your eyes.

“i love you,” you say, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. he smiles wide, showing his teeth and making his eyes crinkle.

“i love you too,” he says. you hear a door open on his side, and he turns around to greet whoever it is. “hey, junmyeon. say hi to y/n.” he says, moving the camera to show his leader. junmyeon crosses him arms over his his bare chest, trying to shield himself from you.

“hi, y/n. sorry i’m not dressed, i just showered,” he says apologetically.

“it’s alright,” you reply.

“what do you mean it’s alright?” baekhyun shouts, turning the camera back to his face, sporting an incredulous expression.

you roll your eyes. “you know what i meant,” you say.

“you should only be alright with seeing me naked,” baekhyun says.

“i’m more than okay with that,” you say, and he smiles. he pretends to lift his shirt up, and junmyeon yells at him to stop, not while he’s still digging for his pajamas. you only giggle and add, “you can get naked whenever.”

“can you wait a second!?” junmyeon yells, frantically digging around his bag for his clothing so he can lock himself in the bathroom and get away from you and baekhyun.

jongdae: “you know i miss you,” you say into the phone, a hand on your chest, right over your heart where jongdae lives.

“yeah? how much?” he asks teasingly, a big smile on his face. he leans his shoulder into the wall and crosses one leg behind the other.

“a lot,” you reply, unable to contain your smile. so far, every conversation you’ve had with him since he’s been gone on tour. "she misses you too." you add coolly, biting the inside of your cheek.

jongdae's cheeks tinge pink and he looks down at the floor. "yeah?" he manages, putting a hand on the back of his neck, his face only getting redder at the thought of you. its been too long since hes had you.

"mhm. we miss you a lot."

he only smiles to himself and says "both of you can show me how much when i get back," just as the door to the practice room opens and kyungsoo enters, his eyes narrowed in jongdae's direction. when jongdae blushes bright red at getting caught, kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, a knowing smirk on his face. "baby, i gotta go." he says, clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

on the other line, you frown. "fine. but you are upsetting us." jongdae glances over at kyungsoo who has taken a seat on the floor, preoccupied with his phone.

"i'll make it up to you," he says, turning his back to kyungsoo's direction. "swear i will. just be good." he says lowly, already embarrassed from kyungsoo walking in on the both of you having borderline phone sex.

"don't know if i can do that, dae. we really miss you. she's getting lonely; nothing feels as good as you do," you sigh, resting your head on the couch pillow.

jongdae forces himself to think about anything other than your words in order to stop a tent from forming in his pants. "kyungsoo is here," he mutters, many minutes too late.

you gasp. "oh my god, jongdae! can he hear me?" you panic, irritated that he let it get that far with an audience.

"i dont think so?" your fiancee replies, his voice unsure.

"oh my god, bye, jongdae," you say, and hang up before he can get another word in. jongdae lets out a breath and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to rid his brain of images of you on top and underneath him.

turning around and sliding his phone back into his pocket, jongdae starts walking over to kyungsoo. kyungsoo lifts his eyes from his phone at the sound of jongdaes footsteps and says, "you should really turn your phone volume down," making jongdae stop in his tracks get insanely red in the face, embarrassment flooding his body.

chanyeol: "wait, listen to this real quick," chanyeol says, scrolling through his laptop to find the track he had showed you a few weeks ago. he's changed a few things and added more drums and a flute--he really values your opinion on his music and wants you to hear what hes made.

you wait patiently for him to click play. the opening notes make you smile as you remember the way you told him he should let them play before he stacks them and blends the sounds together. "replay that part," you say when you hear something new.

chanyeol rewinds a few seconds and presses play before asking, "this part?"

you listen and gasp when you hear it again. "yes! pause it!" you shout over the phone. "did you add a violin?" you ask, a smile on your face.

chanyeol smiles at the phone, impressed with the way you've enhanced your musical knowledge and have noticed little things, like the violin strings that are stacked behind drums. "i did," he says, proudly.

you sigh in awe of him. "yeolie you're so... you're so cool," you gush, like a little schoolgirl talking to her crush. everything about chanyeol amazes you and makes you smile, and yes, maybe it’s because you’re in love with him, but you also would like to think that it would be this way even if you weren’t, if you were just friends or some fan.

chanyeol can’t help but blush at your words, the tips of his ears turning red in the way that you love. “aw, he’s blushing!” jongin says, taking the phone away from chanyeol to tell you. you smile, your heart swelling at the image your brain conjures up.

“are his ears turning red?” you ask and chanyeol yells in protest, only making his blush deepen.

“of course,” jongin replies, ducking out of reach when chanyeol swings to hit him. you only giggle and sigh, feeling mildly upset that you are not there to witness one of you favorite things ever.

“give me back my phone!” chanyeol says, reaching around jongin for it, but the younger man is too quick and gets out of the desk chair and crosses the studio in record time.

“you know, he’s made, like, four songs for you. i don’t know why he didn’t show you one of those,” he says, a devilish grin on his face, though he’s telling the truth. at this admission, chanyeol launches himself from his seat. “i’m sorry! please! here, take it back!” he pleads, holding out his phone for chanyeol to take back and shielding his body from the blows that don’t come.

“shut the fuck up,” chanyeol groans at jongin, taking the phone off speaker and it putting it to his ear. “ignore him.” he says to you, running a hand through his hair.

“…so you didn’t write four songs for me?” you question. chanyeol bites the inside of his cheek, not ready to admit that yes, he did write four songs for you, most of which have lyrics that he hasn’t let anybody hear. “yeol.”

“hmm?” he says, settling back into his chair at the engineering table, his face burning. you smile, because you’ve got your answer.

kyungsoo: you run your hands over kyungsoo's newly shaved head, grimacing a bit when you run your hands the opposite direction of the cut and the follicles prick your fingers. "you don't like it?" he asks after seeing your face.

"i love it, actually. just feels weird," you say, dragging your hands down to the sides of his face and smiling down at him. kyungsoo gives you a small smile. he turns his head to the side and kisses the inside of your palm, your heart melting in your chest. "hi." you say shyly, kyungsoo leaning into your touch.

he smiles up at you, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "hi, pretty," he says, and you could just die. you remove your hands from the sides of his face and put them on his shoulders and adjust yourself in his lap so you are fully facing him and your legs are on either side of him, knees resting on the couch. kyungsoo laces his hands together behind your back, loosely holding you against him. “you look really pretty today.”

“just today?”

kyungsoos cheek turn a light shade of pink. “always,” he says, you smile at him and lean down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. the door to the lounge opens, and all 7 of the exos walk in loudly.

“y/n!” they shout when they see you on kyungsoos lap, making kyungsoo and you pull apart resignedly. irritation is etched on your boyfriends face at the interruption, and you gently pinch his cheek before moving to turn around.

“hi, you gu- kyungsoo, let me get up,” you say when he holds you tightly on his lap, making you turn around uncomfortably to greet the other members. at your request, kyungsoo let’s you get up with a sigh, holding onto the back of your skirt so you don’t accidentally flash the men behind you. “you guys did great tonight!” you compliment when you’re finally standing up and facing them.

a conversation breaks out, and you don’t notice when you lean against the couch and drape your arm over kyungsoos shoulder, gently stroking the side of his face. you both hold hands with your free one, and he rubs the inside of your palm with his thumb.

it’s only when you notice chanyeol cut his eyes at you and kyungsoo being so clingy that you smile. “kyungsoo, i’ve never seen you act like this!” he says, his eyes wide.

“like what?” kyungsoo asks absentmindedly, looking up at you with eyes that make your knees weak and your heart beat faster.

“so cheesy, and-“ kyungsoo snaps his head to look at chanyeol, daring him to finish his sentence. chanyeol closes his mouth, a nervous smile on his face just from a look from kyungsoo alone. the other members wait in silence, as do you, with amusement on their face, waiting for chanyeol to continue and claim his fate or to surrender. “never mind.” he says, waving kyungsoo off.

a collective giggle is let out in the room, and kyungsoo looks up at you with wide eyes, unaware of the effect he has on people.

jongin: “here,” jongin says softly, holding out his fork in front of your face. you try to take it out of his hands and he pulls it back, shaking his head. “let me do it.” he says, a shy smile on his face.

you comply and open your mouth, letting him feed you. “is it good?” he asks, watching you with so much love in his eyes it’s slightly overwhelming. you nod and give him a thumbs up, swallowing the food. jongin smiles and gives you a soft kiss on your lips.

this goes for the rest of the night; he’ll present food in front of your face and wait for you to open up to feed you, ask you if it’s good, and then kiss you. it’s sweet, really, and you don’t think anything of it, even after the rest of the exos join you for your meal.

sometimes you feed jongin, but most of the time he steals it off your plate or you put it on his. it becomes second nature for you both. “ooh, let me try that,” you say, pointing to the dessert that kyungsoo places down in front of jongin. your boyfriend cuts off a piece, giving you the first bite.

you accept the food and your eyes widen as you taste it. “kyungsoo, this is really good!” you say after you chew and swallow. he gives you a kind smile and thanks you.

jongin already has another bite of food waiting for you when you turn back to ask him, and you accept it with a smile on your face. he can only smile back, resisting the urge to grab your face and just kiss you until the sun rises, his group members be damned.

the man made sound of a whip cracking makes you and jongin snap your head in the direction, eyes falling on jongdae, minseok, baekhyun, and junmyeon all giggling, or holding back laughs. you smirk and look over at jongin, who wears an annoyed expression. “whatever,” he mumbles. you rub his back and he leans into you, making the situation worse because even kyungsoo joins in on the teasing, pantomiming cracking a whip and making the noise as well.

sehun: you cage your arms around him and put your chin on the center of his chest, looking up at him. sehun looks down at you with a small smile. “you’re cute,” he says, and if his arms weren’t pressed so tightly against his sides he’d boop your nose.

“so are you,” you say to him, loosening your hold around him and instead wrapping your arms around his waist.

“i know,” he says, and you roll your eyes. sehun moves hair out of your face and leans down to place a kiss on your lips. “cmon, let’s finish.” he says, sliding out of your grip. the two of you had choreographed a dance to a song you both liked, and had been using the exo practice room for a few hours now.

you nod and he jogs over to the speaker to play the song again, and then comes back to get into the starting position. you watch yourself in the mirror as you hit all of the moves, your feet feeling like they barely touch the floor. sehun watches you too, getting lost in the way that you move so freely, like you’re weightless and gravity isn’t any concern of yours.

he misses a few steps and you notice, smirking at him through the mirror. “keep up, lover boy,” you say, doing the last few moves as the song comes to a close. you wipe your sweaty forehead with the hem of your shirt, and sehun comes over to you, just as the door to the practice room opens. you turn and wave at jongdae, and he greets you and sehun with a wave, his phone pressed to his ear.

sehun takes this moment to pull you closer to him by your shirt. you let out a light laugh at him, and awkwardly keep your hands off of him because youre both sweaty. “i’m all gross,” you say.

“me too,” and he leans down and kisses you, his hands sticking to your skin through your shirt. you hold onto his arms, cringing at the feeling of sticky skin on sticky skin, and pull away.

“it’s too gross,” you say, making a face. sehun frowns at you, and you have to hold back a smile.

“you think i’m gross?”

“when we’re both sweaty? yes,” you say say, putting your hands on your hips.

“i like you when you’re sweaty,” sehun replies. “i like you when you’re all dirty.” he adds, making you exclaim in protest and draw the attention of jongdae, who just gives you both a disgusted look.

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marshmallow-phd · 29 days

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Genre: Regency Gothic AU

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: A stormy night brought you to the manor in the middle of the woods. Nine strange men occupied its halls. They won't let you leave. A dangerous secret haunts this estate. Learning it might either be your saving grace or it could lead to the last breath you ever take.

Part: 1 I 2

Lightning lit up the thin curtains covering the two small windows on either side of the carriage. Thunder rumbled and you felt it deep within your chest. Tugging your silk cloak closer, you closed your eyes and prayed that the driver would get you through the storm. There was no one to comfort you, to reassure you that a little rain and noisy sky wouldn't delay your journey.

Your father had insisted you take your sister or even a friend, but the two day’s journey didn’t seem consequential enough to need a companion. Besides, what would they have done once you arrived? Your elderly aunt had only asked for you. From what you could decipher from her letter, she needed you to be a companion as she traveled to the southernmost coastal town. Apparently, it was now the ultimate fashion to travel to for the summer. Just the idea of rolling waves made your stomach churn. But what was worse was who else would be there–

The carriage jolted to the right. You spread out your arms, only barely catching yourself from falling to the floor. No sane person would have endured such dangerous weather. This storm had come from nowhere. Skies blue and cloudless as you had ever seen bid you farewell in the late morning. Most of the day's journey had been uneventful. Then the joyful light faded. Thunder shook the walls of the carriage. Rain pounded on the roof. When would you reach the inn? Bile rose up in your throat, burning the sensitive tissue as the carriage continued to rock violently. The horses neighed over the sounds of the storm.

The carriage shifted hard to the left. And kept falling. You slammed into the door, nearly opening it with the force. You didn't know what was happening. The floor was now the wall and the wall the floor. A downward momentum made it impossible to stand. Screams ripped at your throat.

Then it stopped.

The rain continued to pour and the thunder roared on but the carriage was still. Your legs wobbled as you slowly stood. With your palms, you pushed open the door. The thin wooden panel clapped against the outside of the carriage. Immediately you were pounded by the storm. Large drops pelted your face, obscuring your vision. It was dark. You could tell that much. And there were trees. In every direction.

You climbed out of the carriage, calling for the driver. Your feet slipped in the mud, but you managed to keep your balance–for now. The mud was thick and sticky as you trudged to the front of the carriage.

No. No, no, no. Both of the horses were gone. And so was the driver. Somehow, the carriage had fallen down a hill or ravine. With a storm this terrible, you needed to get to higher ground or risk possibly being carried away–or drowning. Clawing and digging your hands and feet into the soaked dirt, you climbed the hard incline back to the road.

Once you could make out the road, you called for the driver again. No answer. He was nowhere to be found. You needed to find shelter. The storm gave no promise of letting up. You wouldn't survive the night in this forest, even if you went back into the carriage. The only choice was to find sanctuary. You stared in the direction you believed you came from. Nothing but trees and darkness. You turned to the other choice. All the same–wait.

There was something... when lightning brightened up the sky. Your heart began banging in your ears. Spires, towers. Not trees. It was some distance away, but it was shelter nonetheless.

With near tears in your eyes, you picked up your skirts–your fingers numb from the cold–and hurried towards the castle that could be your saving grace.

*****

The manor was calm tonight. Odd, considering the amount of bodies roaming around these haunted halls. Only the beautiful storm outside and Chanyeol's sorrowful melody from the piano broke the silence. Jongin had draped himself over one of the arm chairs as he inspected the wine mixture within his goblet. The taste was… adequate. The cellar would need replenishing soon.

In the corner, a rather lax game of cards covered the small, round table. Minseok smirked at his winning hand. The faded wooden chips with bits of white painted around the edges were piling up in front of Yixing, who leaned back carelessly, sure of his next win. Little did either of them know that the youngest among them had a little... trick his sleeve. As the quickest, Sehun had perfected sleight of hand long ago. None had caught him yet.

A fire roared, coaling the usually gray and brown room in flickering orange. With how close he stood near the fireplace, Kyungsoo's silhouette was visible through his loose shirt. He leaned his palms on the mantel and let the warmth of the flames engulf him. Warmth was all they could feel after all these years. It could be an addiction so strong it was tempting to throw himself into the fire.

Junmyeon joined him at the fireplace, leaning his shoulders against the brick. The bite of the edge hardly registered in his mind. Pain of that measure... it was only a ghost that had nearly crossed over.

“Such strong thoughts for a night like this.”

Kyungsoo didn’t look from the fire, but raised a questioning eyebrow in response.

Junmyeon shrugged a single shoulder. “I can’t read minds, but it's obvious you're turning something over more times than a praying rock.”

“It's the same thoughts,” Kyungsoo murmured in his strange, monotone voice. “Always the same thoughts.”

“One day you will have to let it go,” Junmyeon sighed. “This is our existence now. And forever will be.”

“Acceptance of the present doesn’t erase the past.”

“But it does make the present more enjoyable.” The red liquid sloshed against the rim of the goblet as Jongin draped an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He wore a mischievous smile. A clear indicator of his true intention.

Junmyeon shook his head. “We’re not going out tonight. There’s nothing out and about in this storm.” Hunting in these conditions would wield no trophies. Tomorrow would be a better night.

“Jun’s no fun tonight,” Jongdae teased as he and Baekhyun emerged from the hallway.

“If you want to go out in this mess,” Junmyeon waved towards the front door. “Be my guest. Just don’t you dare get mud on the rug–”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Help! Please! Help!”

Nine pairs of eyes snapped to the echoing sound. None moved.

Bang! Bang!

BANG!

One of the double doors burst open and a figure fell to the floor, landing on its knees and palms. It looked up. A flash of lightning illuminated the face.

The face of a beautiful young girl.

*****

Your knees vibrated when they hit the wooden floor. Water fell from your loose hair that clung to your cheeks. The chances of the door opening when you pushed on the handle had been low–yet the barrier that kept you victim to the storm fell open and you crashed downward with it.

Greeting you in this strange hall were several men, their jaws hanging open in a mirror of your own surprise. More men appeared from a side parlor, curious as to who dared intrude on their evening. One, two, three–you counted nine total. Nine men. This was not ideal–a bit terrifying, really–but you didn't have a choice. The storm raged outside.

"P-please," you stammered past chattering teeth "The st-storm overturn-overturned the carriage.”

The men stayed silent as they exchanged unreadable glances. One raised a questionable brow.

"Jongdae, go run a bath," ordered the man closest to you. One of the shorter residents nodded and disappeared into the darkness that led into the rest of the manor.

That's what this place was. A grand old manor, not a castle. Isolated. When you'd first run through the rusted iron gate, you'd feared it abandoned. A long dormant instinct whispered that you might have been better off if it had been.

The first man approached, each motion slow, deliberate, and hauntingly graceful. He crouched down in front of you and captured your frightened stare. The fear in you began to melt away. He was… beautiful. Obsidian fell over his forehead in gentle waves. His tunic was of a fashion your grandfather would have worn. There was something strange about this man–all of these men. Something... different.

"Let's get you warmed up." He held his hand out and you were up on your feet before you even realized your fingers were resting on his. "Don't worry," he murmured. "You're safe here. My name is Junmyeon."

You nodded, somehow believing him, but unsure if you should. Through your violent chattering, you managed to stammer out your name in response.

Bang!

You jumped at the sudden noise. One of the other men had somehow appeared behind you to shut the door you'd fallen through.

"Thank you, Yixing," the man beside you said. The one named Yixing nodded and then shifted his eyes to you. “Come.” A hand pressed into the space between your shoulder blades and guided you down the hall, leaving a trail of mud in your wake.

The man led you down several halls until you reached an unoccupied bedroom. Red blankets draped the oversized bed. Matching curtains hung limply from the canopy. All of the wood was a dark sort, rich in color but not quite welcoming like other, brighter woods.

Jongdae emerged from another door on the other side of the bedroom. Steam rolled out after him as if it were following him for its next set of orders. “Anything else?” he asked drily.

“No, thank you.”

Jongdae strolled the from the room without a glance either of you and closed the door behind him. Your breath hitched in your throat. The two of you were… alone. It wasn’t appropriate. It was…

You looked to the man still with you, fear causing your heart to pound painful against your chest. You tugged your cloak closer to you, but it was soaked from the rain. Shivers violently raced down your arms and spine. The man didn’t seem to notice as he walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a long white cloth.

“These should suffice for tonight.” He held up the cloth for you to see. A nightgown. An old one by the cut of it, though thankfully it hadn’t been devoured by moths or mice. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

He visibly suppressed a laugh at your small voice and waved you into the adjoining bathroom. Taking the nightgown, you tried your best to avoid his gaze. You scurried inside and shut the door.

*****

Junmyeon smirked at your mousy state. It was understandable why you were so frightened. The women of this period were warned of being alone with a man. And now you were alone with nine.

Nine very dangerous men.

The proper action for him to take was to leave your room now that you were safe inside the bathroom, but his feet didn’t move. Somehow, the storm had stranded you in their forest. What had happened to the driver, he wondered. Surely a gentlewoman such as yourself was not controlling the carriage. And yet, you were all alone. Circumstances were… ideal.

A small hiss echoed in the bathroom. It stretched out, along with the sound of sloshing water. Junmyeon frowned.

Hm.

He stood there for a few minutes more, listening to you sigh as your skin grew used to the scalding water. The sound of soap scraping against skin reached his ears, followed by more sloshing water. Soon, you would be getting out of the tub. Time to leave.

He emerged from the bedroom, careful to close the door as quietly as possible. Everyone had gathered out in the hallway since they were too curious about their visitor to go about their night. Junmyeon found Jongdae blending in with the cluster. He glared at him as he hissed, "The water was too hot."

Jongdae merely shrugged. Why would he care about water possibly being too hot? It would never hurt him.

On the opposite end of the group, Yixing cleared his throat. "What are we going to do with her?"

Junmyeon glanced at the door behind him. There was only one best option, for all their sakes. "Tomorrow morning, we will send her on her way."

The eruption was instant.

“Enough!”

In an instant, the hissing ceased.

Baekhyun huffed and folded his arms against his chest, collapsing against the wall. Jongin scoffed. "Such a waste."

“A waste that will keep this household from tearing itself apart,” Junmyeoun countered. It was an outcome none of them wanted. No one wanted to cause a fight, but resisting was difficult. The temptation was great. The quicker you left, the better off they would all be.

"Do you really think it’ll end so well?" Minseok’s mocking comment hung in the air. Silent agreements rippled through the air.

Junmyeon looked to Kyungsoo, whose answer was to look away. "No one touches her," he ordered. They all would try, he knew. But their strength would only get them so far. He stared down a few of them especially, so they knew he meant it.

Sehun pushed off the wall with a roll of his eyes. "Just get her out of here so I can get some peace."

Junmyeon started to call after him but was interrupted by a soft thud from the room behind him. Confused, he opened the door to find you lying on the floor.

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lunaflowers · 8 months

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and now you're mine (yandere!kai)

pairing: yandere!kai x reader word count: 3.6k genre: smut, angst, yandere warnings: yandere behavior, extremely dubious consent, noona kink, piv, yn has issues, references to stalking, kind of switch leaning dom kai?, some pussy eating, drugging, obsession, mental manipulation, dirty talk, a bit of mommy kink, kidnapping, some degradation and name calling

synopsis: kai has finally got you right where he wants you a/n: this is a yandere story, meaning it contains many dark elements. please heed the warnings and don't read this fic if this type of content makes you uncomfortable. i do not condone the behavior exhibited in this fic and i don't believe the member featured would either.

☆*: .｡. o🖤o .｡.:*☆

It wasn’t that you weren’t attracted to Kai, you definitely were. His extraordinarily handsome face with those full lips and strong jawline combined with his perfect body would’ve made you swoon at any other time but right now you just weren’t in the headspace for it. You’d just been dumped by your long term boyfriend (after you’d caught him cheating) a few weeks ago and your friends had pressured you to go on this date to get you out of the funk you’d been in since then. You had always had terrible luck with men and you were honestly on the verge of giving up on the male sex altogether. “The best way to get over a man is to get under another one,” your best friend had said, her best effort to convince you to meet Kai.

“Noona, what’s going on? Do you not feel well?” Kai looked at you concerned from across the table, his forehead kneaded and his lips in a slight pout. You must’ve zoned out while he was talking and you felt horrible as soon as you realised. You didn’t know Kai very well seeing as he was a co-worker of your friend’s but he seemed super sweet and he didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

“I’m sorry, Kai,” you said, giving him a small smile. “I’m just not feeling up for this. It’s nothing to do with you, I promise. You’ve been wonderful. I’m just not ready to date again and I shouldn’t have let myself be pressured into this. I’ve wasted both of our time. I should leave.”

You waited for his reaction and to your surprise he didn’t look angry or annoyed like most men would. Instead he gave you a smile and replied, “It’s okay. I understand. How about we have one more drink and then I take you home?”

You were relieved at his words but truthfully, you didn’t want to stay for one more drink. You wanted to go home, get into bed, and maybe watch Netflix before passing out, but you felt like it was the least you could do for him for being so understanding.

As the waitress brought the two of you another rum and coke each, you eyed Kai up and down. You definitely would’ve been all for this if you weren’t so hung up on your ex. You sipped your drink and continued chatting pleasantly with Kai. It wasn’t until about half way through your last drink that you began to feel a little woozy. You rested your head in your hands and closed your eyes, trying to keep your breathing even.

“Noona? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. I just probably shouldn’t have had that last drink. I really need to go now.” You tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness made you sit right back down again.

“It’s okay,” Kai said, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll get you home.”

Kai got up and walked over to you. He gently helped you into a standing position. He had his arm around you and you were leaning almost your entire body weight on to him. He led you out of the bar and down the street.

“Kai,” you said, a bit sluggishly, “I live the other way.”

“I’m taking you to my place. It’s way nearer. Just until you sober up.”

You weren’t really in any type of position to argue so you allowed Kai to guide you to his apartment which was surprisingly close, just a few short minutes away. It was a walk up, above a shabby Thai restaurant and Kai had to carry you up the stairs. As soon as you got into his apartment, he sat you down on the couch. You were feeling worse than ever, not even able to take in the sparse surroundings, dizzy as well as sleepy.

Before you could say a word, Kai handed you a glass of water. You didn’t even know when he’d gotten it. “Drink up. This should help.”

You chugged half the glass of water down at once, feeling surprisingly thirsty as soon as he handed it to you. And he was right, drinking it did make you feel slightly better. “Thanks Kai. I really owe you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m not usually such a lightweight.” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes and he was wearing an unreadable expression on his face. You raised the glass of water to your lips again but Kai pulled it away from you, spilling some in the process.

“That’s enough,” Kai said, and you looked up at him in confusion. “Actually, noona, I’m kind of mad at you,” he said, to your surprise.

“What? Mad?”

“Yeah,” he set the half empty glass on the coffee table loudly. “I was really looking forward to tonight and you couldn’t even stop obsessing over that loser ex of yours long enough to give me a real shot.”

“I’m sorry?” You were completely baffled at what was coming out of his mouth. You wondered if you were maybe misunderstanding what he was saying. Why would he be acting like this?

“It was rude, noona. You were rude to me. I think you owe me a proper apology.”

Your head still felt heavy but you felt weirdly alert now. You knew that you were in an unsafe situation and all you wanted to do was get out of here. “I’m sorry, Kai. I should’ve been more respectful of your time. It was rude of me, like you said. I should leave now and not waste even more of your time. I’ll just call a cab and get out of here… Wait, where’s my phone?”

You looked around yourself and couldn’t find it. You couldn’t see your purse either. Had he taken them? Kai knelt down in front of you and grabbed your jaw gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Words mean nothing. You need to show me how sorry you are.” Kai said.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “How would I do that?”

“You’re a smart woman. I know you know what I want.” As he said this, his eyes wandered over your body and you felt utterly disgusted at the realisation that hit you.

“I’m not going to fuck you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Are you insane?”

“Noona,” Kai said with a sigh, “I’m not going to let you leave here until you give me what I want.”

Your anger got the better of you and you slapped him across the face but he barely flinched. You realised now that he must’ve put something in that last drink of yours so that you would end up here with him, unable to fight back. The lethargy from whatever he’d drugged you with had made it so you couldn’t even defend yourself.

The slap seemed to have amused him and annoyed him simultaneously. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you down on the couch, getting on top of you. “You know what your problem is, noona? You’re a snob.”

“No…” you tried to protest but Kai covered your mouth with his hand, shutting you up.

“You are. You think you’re too good for me,” he said, almost sadly, his pout prominent. “Why? Is it because you make more money than me? Because I don’t live in a nice apartment like you? Because you’re older than me?”

He lifted his hand off your mouth and looked at you like he really wanted a response. “I don’t think I’m better than you, Kai, I swear. I’m just tired and want to go home.”

“Liar. And you’re not going home yet. I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise. Not that you deserve it.”

“Stop it, Kai,” you protested, but he didn’t seem to care. He had already pushed his hand up your dress and underneath your panties. As he touched your cunt, you both gasped.

“Hairless,” he said, smirking. “See? You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me. But it’s okay noona, I don’t mind if you don’t wax either.”

He was talking like a crazy person. You had no idea that Kai was like this and you were getting more frightened by each passing second.

You slapped him again and this time he pinned your hand down, looking at you with those doe eyes. “I don’t like that. Please don’t make me hurt you. I really, really don’t want to hurt you. I only want to make you feel good. Okay?” He bent down and kissed you on the cheek, moving his way to your lips. You turned your head away and he grabbed you by the jaw again and forced a kiss on your mouth. Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them away. You didn’t want to show that kind of weakness in front of Kai.

“Don’t fight me,” he said gently. He had softened considerably from earlier as though he really was trying to keep you calm now. “Please.” He began pulling at your dress, trying to take it off.

“Noo… Please,” you begged, but your protests fell on deaf ears. Kai was so singularly determined to have you it seemed that there was nothing that you could do or say that was going to stop him. It was exhausting. You didn’t feel like fighting anymore. He was just too big and too strong and you were so tired. It was just so much easier to surrender to his will. You let him pull off your dress, leaving you in only your bra and panties sprawled out on his couch.

Kai looked you up and down and whistled, his lopsided smile coming over his features. “You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be. I don’t know how that’s possible.” He leaned down and kissed you again on the lips, more passionately this time, and you didn’t resist him. Despite your reservations, Kai was an excellent kisser and it felt good to be kissed again, to be desired again. You kissed him back automatically.

“Just be gentle with me, okay?” You said, as he broke the kiss.

He looked at you with eyes that were full of lust and you felt yourself clench involuntarily. Kai was undeniably sexy and as much as you hated yourself for it, you felt yourself growing wetter by the second. The panties you were wearing were white cotton, certainly not your sexiest, but they were already soaked through to the point that Kai could see your pussy.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants and it was all he could do not to devour you then and there. He’d been fantasising about this moment for so long, stroking his cock as he did so. Now that you were really here, almost naked underneath him, he thought he was going to burst. He knew he needed to calm down before he entered you. The idea of cumming his pants now that he was finally going to have you would be too humiliating to bear. Besides, he’d promised he’d make you feel good.

Kai took a few breaths, trying to think neutral thoughts while unhooking your bra and taking it off. He thought of what he’d eaten for breakfast that morning, about washing the dishes and putting them away, anything other than how fucking delicious you looked right now. Slowly, he pulled down your panties, savouring the moment your cunt was truly revealed to him.

As soon as he saw it, he knew he had to taste you. He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. He threw your panties to the ground and held your legs open. He leaned down and latched his mouth onto your cunt, giving your clit a lick. You squirmed as he did this but his grip on your legs kept them wide open.

“You taste so fucking good,” he said, licking his bottom lip. “Here, taste.” He kissed you on the mouth so you could taste your own arousal on his tongue. It was so erotic, tasting yourself mixed with his saliva. Kai made his way down your neck and to your breasts, biting and sucking on the way, being sure to leave marks. When he got to your nipple, he drew a circle on it with his tongue before beginning to suck on it as well. As his teeth grazed your areola, you yelped in pain but he didn’t stop. He bit it, just hard enough for you to yelp again.

“Kai… That hurts…” you moaned out.

“But you like it,” he smirked.

You did. Kai knew you more than you thought he could and you weren’t sure if you were alarmed or aroused by the thought of it.

“I need to fuck you now, noona,” Kai said suddenly, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. He took off his shirt to reveal his perfectly chiselled body and you couldn’t help but bite your lip a little. Fuck, he was sexy. He stood up to pull off his pants and underwear, and you admired his gorgeous body. Why did you have to find him so damn attractive?

He took his cock in his hand and gave it a few strokes. He was already rock hard but was getting himself ready for you. He knelt down between your legs and used his cock to tease your pussy lips, savouring the feel of the wetness on his tip.

“You want me to put it in?” He asked, making eye contact with you. He wanted you to want it, to beg for it, even.

“Yes please, Kai,” you replied, spreading your legs open further to his delight. “I want your cock so bad. Please put it in.”

He grinned as pushed himself into you slowly, eliciting a moan from you both. God, he just felt so good filling you up. Hearing you moan with pleasure from something he was doing almost enough to make him cum right there on the spot but he was able to hold firm, closing his eyes and going through the inane motions of his day again. He began moving within you, slowly, hoping to build up a steady pace that wasn’t too much for him.

“Feels good,” you moaned. Kai just felt so in tune with your body in a way that no one had ever been before, certainly not your ex.

“Yeah, you like it?” He asked, continuing to fuck you while he kissed your jawline. “You’re such a greedy fucking girl, noona…”

You giggled and put your hand in Kai’s hair, grabbing and tugging it a little so that he looked up at you. “You better make me cum tonight or you’re never going to get to fuck me again, baby.”

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge. “I don’t think it’ll be too hard. You’re literally gushing for me. You want me as much as I want you.” He used one hand to reach down and slowly begin playing with your clit, causing you to gasp. “I own this pussy already.”

You moaned in pleasure as he continued to rub your clit, the feeling of his cock pounding away inside you while his fingers were on your sweet spot was enough to almost push you over the edge. Kai, seemingly sensing this, stopped his ministrations, holding himself still.

“Kai!” You exclaimed, half frustrated and half amused. “I was close.”

“No way, noona. You can’t make it that easy for me.” He pulled out of you and sat down beside you on the couch, his back against the sofa cushions. “Get on top of me. I’m gonna make you work to cum.”

Annoyed, you did as he said. Straddling him, you took his length in your hand and lined it up with your entrance. This time it was your turn to tease him, lowering yourself onto him halfway and clenching. Kai grabbed your hips and forced you down onto him, while thrusting his own hips up into you. He looked almost irritated. “Don’t fucking tease me,” he said. It was jarring how he seemed to go back and forth between playful and serious. “You’re going to cum all over my cock like the good little slut you are… My slut,” he added.

You reached down and grabbed his shoulders for purchase. You bounced on his cock while he grabbed your ass. “Yes Kai, I’m your slut,” you whined out breathlessly. As crazy as it sounded after everything that had happened that night, you wanted to be his, to be owned by him. Being with him felt right and safe. He grabbed you and kissed you again and you moaned into his mouth.

“That’s right. Mine. Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love being your slut, Kai…” you moaned.

“And I’m the best you’ve ever had, right? You’ve never been fucked so good before, have you?”

“Never.”

You could feel your orgasm getting closer and it was making you desperate, you babbled incoherently about how much you loved his cock, how much you loved getting fucked by him, how you wanted him to own your body. “I’m gonna cum, Kai, please, please let me cum this time.”

“Of course, noona, you’ve been such a good girl,” Kai replied. “Cum for me,” he said, nipping at your jawline while fingering your clit.

It only took a few seconds to push you over the edge. The orgasm wracked your entire body as you let out an,”Oh my god, Kai!”

Watching you cum for him, and on him, felt like it was going to make him crazy. He used his strength to keep fucking up into you even as you came down from your orgasm. He was going to cum and he wanted to, no, he had to, do it inside you. He would ask your permission, but it didn’t matter what you said, he knew he was going to do it anyway.

“Noona… I’m gonna cum too… Won’t you let me cum inside your pretty pussy? Please?”

You panicked a little. You weren’t on any type of birth control and you knew that you were due your period in about two weeks, so it was likely a dangerous time for this.

“No, Kai… It’s not safe… Not tonight. Next time,” you replied gently, trying to climb up off his cock but he held you on to it firmly.

“Please, noona,” he said, his voice coming out with a whine. “Please… I’ve been such a good boy, haven’t I? I made you feel good, right? Haven’t I been such a good boy for you, mommy?”

Mommy. No one had ever called you that before. You hadn’t expected it, but the use of that word did something to you. You felt yourself clench.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been such a good boy,” you relented, grabbing his face and kissing him on the cheek. You whispered into his ear, “Cum inside mommy.”

With that Kai flipped you on your back while you were still on his cock. He was on top of you now and he sped his pace up, releasing himself inside you with a groan. He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily.

After a few seconds, the two of you readjusted yourselves on the couch so that Kai was laying flat on his back on the couch while you were laying on your side beside him, half on top of him. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heart pounding inside of it.

“You know what this means, right?” Kai said, running a hand in your hair.

“Mmm? What does it mean, baby?” You were on the verge of falling asleep at that moment but you forced yourself to stay awake.

“You belong to me now. No one else can touch you ever again.”

“Is that right?” You asked with a sleepy giggle. “And what if I don’t agree to this?” You looked up at him, batting your lashes.

He shrugged. “It’s not really up to you.”

“So what? You make my decisions for me now?”

Kai smirked but said nothing, kissing you on the forehead.

You opened your mouth to argue but then shut it again. To be honest, you were exhausted and what he was proposing didn’t sound so bad at the moment. It would be nice to be able to not think and put all your responsibilities on Kai.

You closed your eyes and fell asleep quickly. Kai slipped out from underneath you, careful not to wake you. He picked you up and carried you bridal style to his small bedroom where he put you down on his bed. He smiled to himself at how deep a sleeper you were, you hadn’t moved a muscle when he moved you. He covered you in a blanket and planted a kiss on your cheek before putting on some pajama bottoms and making his way on to the balcony to smoke a cigarette.

Everything had gone perfectly tonight and he couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. You were his, you hadn’t even argued. All those months of watching you and waiting, convincing your friend to set the two of you up had finally paid off. Tomorrow he’d take you to a secluded house in the forest where he could truly keep you all to himself. He didn’t want you to look at anyone else and he didn’t want anyone else to look at you either. Everything was set up there, the locks on the doors and windows so you couldn’t escape even if you decided you had regrets.

Kai put his cigarette out and tossed it over the balcony. He watched it flicker for a few seconds on the cement below before dying completely, excitedly thinking about what the next day would bring.

☆*: .｡. o🖤o .｡.:*☆

#kim jongin smut #kim jongin #kim jongin x reader #kai smut #exo kai #kai x reader #yandere jongin #yandere kai #yandere exo #yandere kpop #yandere smut #exo fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere x you #kim jongin fanfiction #kai fanfic

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yunqitv · 2 months

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— reunion "exo kai x male reader" PT 1

♡ pairing : kim jongin x male reader (m/n)

♡ genre : angst, fluffish (2nd part won't hurt as much)

♡ warning : relationship conflict, feeling of abandonment

╰┈➤ AUTHOR'S NOTE : hi there, my name is yunqi~ this is my first time writing in quite some time so give me some grace~~ please welcome me into the fam, i've got more to come !! p.s I know this is short, but this is just a small excerpt, I just wanted to get back into that groove.

feel free to request some stuff in my inbox, my brain is a little foggy at the moment

There was a faint knock at the door, M/n barely heard it. Luckily, he was expecting someone. A special someone.

Last night M/n and his friends, well almost all of his friends, gathered together in his small shabby apartment and threw a reunion party. It had been 5 years since all of them graduated high school. And as fun as it was seeing all of his friends, half of M/n attention hung around the door waiting for a knock.

When the night ended, M/n was foolishly mistaken that the person he was looking for would come. He never was able to make time for him back then, why would that change 5 years later?

M/n sighed, getting up from his comfortable position sitting criss-cross on the living room floor. The doorbell rang, and he moaned, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He lightly jogged towards the front door, sliding into his slippers. As he reached for the door handle, he pulled and looked down as if thinking there was a package. But this package was more like a gift. M/n’s eyebrows furrowed as he saw a pair of Chuck Taylor’s, tattered and worn. The same shoes he gave to his… well, first love.

“Hello, stranger.” A familiar voice slipped into M/n ears. His body instantly felt warm. M/n’s mouth fell agape as he looked up at the male in front of him. After all these years, M/n felt like he was so ready to see the one who got away yesterday, now, he’s at a loss for words.

“You’re staring. I feel put on the spot now.”

“Ah, no. No, don’t feel that way. It’s good to see you… Jongin or Kai, or ya’ know whatever you go by now.” M/n sheepishly said, biting back his tongue at his complete awkwardness.

“Jongin is fine. To be honest, nobody calls me that very much anymore. And it feels nostalgic hearing you stay my name again.” Jongin flashed that stupid cheeky grin he does, M/n might as well just melt right there.

“Oh… being an idol… Can’t imagine.”

Jongin chuckled, pressing his weight on the door frame, “You’ve got a good face, nice voice…” Jongin tilted his head looking at M/n up and down as if he were going to comment on the latter’s body, “But those bunny slippers? Can’t dance in those.”

M/n sucked his tongue, “You jerk.” He rolled his eyes and stepped to the side, gesturing for Jongin to step into the apartment. Jongin giggled as he entered into the apartment, slipping his shoes off next to the pile of random shoes.

“You missed everyone yesterday, why didn’t you call?”

Jongin placed his keys and wallet on the island in the kitchen, hanging his jean jacket on one of the bar stools. “I’m sorry about that. The work building has been a buzz for a while now. You know, comebacks and all.”

“Mhm, right.” M/n did not know. In fact, M/n didn’t even know Jongin was an idol. He found out via text message months later.

“But I’m here now and-”

“And the last you didn’t show up to an outting was-”

“I don’t-”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Jongin reached for the back of his neck, “We still like cutting each other off. That’ll never change, huh?”

“But you did.” M/n spat, arms crossed as his smaller frame stood in front of Jongin’s. Jongin’s hands dropped to his sides as he drew in a sharp breath. “I want to talk about this. The others aren’t around this time, so speak freely.”

“I- Um, shit… I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

M/n bit back his attitude, “You left me, Kim Jongin. You chose to live your life without me. A life without your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your soulmate.”

“Hey, no one left you, M/n. I admit I didn’t choose the best choice when it came to us, but, I had an opportunity. And how was I supposed to know there was gonna be all these restrictions? Being an idol is hard, but living without you was harder.”

M/n turned away as he felt the tears warming up in his eyes. Jongin gently put his hands on each of the smaller’s shoulders. “Look at me. Would you look at me please?”

“No. Go away.”

#exo #exo k #exo x reader #exo x you #exo x male reader #kai #kim jongin #jongin #lgbtq #kpop x male reader #kpop boys #kpop bg #yunqitv #kai x reader #kai x male reader #exo fluff #exo angst

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aqupistau · 10 months

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genre & trope: suggestive, fluff, and established relationship

word count: 0.46k (edited)

a/n: nini, pls come back home :<

now playing: no make up - exo

. ִָ ˑ ⊹ ( 11:10 PM ) — it has finally come to this moment. shared permissions of revealing hidden truths to one another, carefully undressed clothes clattered all over from the door to the bed—the only source of light emanating from the soft dews of the full moon. the bed sheets are cold from the touch, contrasting the warm temperature of your skin and his. jongin straddles you from above, his eyes that always looked mysterious now fathomable to read, an evident look of his affections as he adorns you head to toe. he brushes your hair with regard, not really minding if it falls the right or wrong way, the pure devotion of his sending chills down your spine and it brings you back to your first impression of him, the once shy and charismatic mask now faltered all because of you.

you notice the transferred lipstick stains on his face and clean the smudged lipstick off him with a chuckle. “you bought an easily smudged lipstick for me for a reason, you sneaky bastard.”

jongin laughs, now also cleaning the lipstick marks around your lips but keeps the kiss marks he left all over your face. “i know you only wear transfer-proof makeup, especially lipstick, and i've always wanted to clean your makeup off.”

“why?”

“it's one of those joys i have when i undress you myself.” you're left speechless. how can he say something so easily? it doesn't come off as flirty flattery. it rolls out of his tongue like it's the most natural thing to say; his own thoughts and words align perfectly when it speaks about you.

“you say the most absurd compliments for me so naturally.” you smile, helplessly wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in a gentle and fervent kiss. every friction and graze of your sensitive lips on his just leaves him wanting more, to the point of his willingness to drown deeper than he was already into you.

jongin tilts his head to siege the space, stopping any air from coming into the kiss, heightening the unmistakable urge between you to go further. you pull out from the kiss to catch your breath, and you both gasp for air, your hand resting on his chest that pronouncedly rests and rises.

you cup his cheek and chuckle, admiring and caressing every part of his face, cleaning the remaining smudged lipstick around his lips. jongin leans into your touch, burrowing his face in the natural shape of your hand, eyes fluttering close from ease. then he looks into your eyes, kisses the palm of your hand and capturing this moment of how you look under the moonlight. the only shadow that hides your bareness is his body on top of you.

“now—do I have permission to clean your makeup off?”

“absolutely.”

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yeolsaintlaurent · 5 months

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Nocturnal Reverie ch.10 [PCY]

pairing - chanyeol x fem reader

genre - mature, smut, angst

themes - power imbalance, romance, crime, justice, class divide, politics, sex

synopsis - In the sprawling, dystopian city of Emberhaven, where power and corruption reign supreme, the lives of two unlikely individuals collide in a tale of passion, intrigue, and moral reckoning. Chanyeol, an enigmatic and wealthy scion of the city's elite, finds himself captivated by the elusive Y/N, a cunning and resourceful thief who navigates the treacherous underworld of Emberhaven. Their first encounter, sparked by a chance meeting in a luxurious club called The Velvet Lounge, sets the stage for a whirlwind romance amidst a backdrop of crime, politics, and danger.

warnings - none for this chapter

A/N - Might be the longest chapter yet. But I had so much fun writing this chapter. I wanted it to seem like you were in the room, witnessing it irl. It took a lot of brain power, but I would like to believe that this chapter basically wrote itself. As always, let me know what you thought. Is this the beginning of the end? Are all the characters finally going to converge, making the following chapters a compelling read? Read on to find out, my lovelies ~~

Chapter 10: Glimmers of recognition

The grand ballroom exuded opulence, lit by the soft glow of chandeliers resembling crystalline constellations. Gilded mirrors reflected the elegance of the elite attendees, their gowns and tailored suits creating a tapestry of wealth and influence. Fragrances of exotic perfumes wafted through the air, mingling with the rustle of silk and the hum of quiet conversations.

Live music cascaded through the ballroom, the quartet weaving classical melodies with a modern twist. The haunting strains of a cello and the ethereal notes of a piano created an atmosphere of refined indulgence, a backdrop to the intricate dance of intrigue and ambition.

Chanyeol, dressed in a sharp suit that complemented his towering figure, moved through the crowd with a calculated ease. His eyes, sharp and observant, scanned the room for any signs of the elusive figures that often lurked in the city's shadows.

As he neared the center of the grand ballroom, a sudden hush fell over the crowd. Intrigued whispers passed through the guests, and Chanyeol felt the shift in the atmosphere. Turning toward the source of the disturbance, he was met with a sight he hadn't anticipated.

There, amidst the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, stood Kai, or Jongin, as he knew him to be. Dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his lean frame, Kai's presence commanded attention. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, scanned the room with a mixture of confidence and detachment.

Chanyeol's heart quickened. The tension in the air was palpable as their eyes locked from across the room. The unspoken history between them crackled like electricity, and the weight of unresolved questions hung in the balance.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The distant hum of conversation faded into the background, leaving only the echo of their shared past. Chanyeol's mind raced with conflicting emotions – duty, suspicion, and an undercurrent of a connection that refused to be severed.

Chanyeol engaged in polite banter with fellow attendees, all while keeping a watchful eye on Kai. The atmosphere buzzed with a sense of exclusivity, each conversation veiled in layers of hidden motives and social intricacies. Amid the sophisticated gala, Chanyeol approached a well-dressed acquaintance, subtly inquiring about Kai.

"Excuse me," Chanyeol said, turning to the gentleman, "Do you know who that is?" He discreetly gestured towards Kai, who held court in a small gathering.

The man glanced over, his eyes narrowing in recognition. "That's Kai. A respected dealer in vintage cars, collectibles, and regal jewelry. The crème de la crème seek him out for his expertise. A man of impeccable taste and discretion. Created a name for himself about six years ago. No one knows where he came from, but he sure did manage to have them wrapped around his finger. Always kept it as a rule to never be explicitly involved with the illegal activities his customers deal with. Maintained an untainted business ever since."

Chanyeol absorbed the information, a thoughtful expression on his face. Armed with this knowledge, he returned to the unfolding drama of the gala, where his past and present were converging in unexpected ways.

Amidst the glittering assembly, Kai moved with a quiet confidence. He effortlessly commanded attention. The crowd swarmed around him, a sea of faces swooning over the man of refined tastes. His charm was palpable as he engaged in conversations, each word a carefully chosen note in the symphony of the gala.

As Kai effortlessly mingled, Chanyeol observed from afar, his sharp gaze tracking the ebb and flow of the crowd around Kai. The social elite gravitated toward him, their conversations a harmonious blend of admiration and curiosity. Kai navigated the sea of faces with an ease that hinted at a familiarity with the intricacies of this world.

Kai observed Chanyeol inconspicuously. He knew Chanyeol would be here, his presence a deliberate move. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension as their eyes met across the ballroom. Ever so perceptive, he locked eyes with Chanyeol, reading him like an open book.

The quartet's music became a subtle backdrop to this silent exchange, the tension escalating with each passing note. Conversations swirled around them, the elite attendees oblivious to the intricate dance of shadows playing out in their midst.

Kai, aware of Chanyeol's gaze, maintained a composed exterior, yet his eyes betrayed a watchful awareness. There was an unspoken acknowledgment between them, a recognition of the shared history that bound them, and the secrets that lingered beneath the surface.

Chanyeol continued his discrete observations. Kai's interactions were layered with intrigue, his conversations veiled in mystery. It was a game they had played before, but tonight, the stakes were higher, the dance more intricate.

As the quartet's music reached a crescendo, the tension between Chanyeol and Kai lingered in the air. The ballroom, a stage for the unfolding drama, held its breath as the two figures moved in a delicate dance of shadows. The night wore on, each passing moment a step closer to the revelation of hidden truths.

Chanyeol, torn between the allure of the gala and the need for answers, couldn't help but be drawn into the gravitational pull of Kai's orbit. The tension between them simmered beneath the surface. Feeling the weight of the past, he decided to approach the epicenter of the gala where Kai held court. He weaved through the elegant throng, his eyes never leaving Kai's figure. The air buzzed with anticipation as he neared, the orchestra now transitioning to a vibrant waltz that infused the atmosphere with renewed energy.

Kai, sensing Chanyeol's approach, turned to face him with an air of nonchalance. The exchange was subtle, a nod of acknowledgment that spoke volumes. The symphony of the waltz played on, casting a spell over the ballroom, encapsulating the drama unfolding between the two old friends.

As Chanyeol finally stood before Kai, the two locked eyes in a silent dialogue. Conversations around them blurred into a distant hum, the world narrowing down to the charged space they occupied. The unspoken tension between them demanded resolution.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance," Chanyeol quipped, a wry smile playing on his lips. The banter emerged effortlessly.

Kai replied with a smirk, "Old habits die hard, Loey. I've always enjoyed a bit of theatrics."

The atmosphere around them crackled with the intensity of their exchange, the weight of untold stories hanging in the air. The gala continued its elegant rhythm, but in their bubble, time seemed to stand still.

Chanyeol, probing yet cautious, ventured, "It's been a while, Jongin. High school feels like a lifetime ago. I hear you go by Kai now."

Kai's eyes bore into Chanyeol's, a glint of mystery behind the veneer of sophistication. "Indeed. Life takes unexpected turns, doesn't it?"

"What brings you to an event like this, Jongin" Chanyeol inquired, his voice carrying a subtle edge.

Kai flashed a sly smile. "The same thing that brings everyone – connections," he replied, his tone light and banter-filled.

"Connections? Or business?" Chanyeol pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"A bit of both. You should try it sometime," Kai teased, his words hanging in the air like a veiled challenge.

Shifting gears, Chanyeol delved into more direct territory. "What's your trade these days?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

Kai, the picture of nonchalance, responded, "Vintage cars, collectibles, and regal jewelry. The finer things."

Chanyeol, having heard whispers about Kai's prowess, couldn't help but acknowledge, "Heard you're the best in the game."

Kai's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Rumors. But I do like to maintain a certain reputation."

"A clean reputation?" Chanyeol probed, skepticism etching his expression.

Kai leaned in slightly, his words a playful whisper. "As clean as the driven snow. Drama doesn't suit my business style."

Their exchange held a subtext, a subtle dance of veiled truths and guarded confessions. Chanyeol couldn't shake the feeling that Kai held more cards in this intricate game than he did. The mystery of Kai's disappearance and reappearance gnawed at the edges of his curiosity.

With a nod toward the crowd, Chanyeol inquired, "What brings you back into the limelight, Jongin? And with such flair, might I add."

Kai leaned in, his voice a low murmur, "You, my old friend, might find the answer in the shadows you're so adept at navigating."

Before Chanyeol could press further, a ripple of applause signaled the end of the waltz. The moment, pregnant with unspoken revelations, dissolved into the rhythm of the gala. Kai, maintaining his enigmatic aura, excused himself with a polite nod.

As Chanyeol watched Kai disappear into the glittering crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows of their shared history concealed more than they revealed. The ballroom, now ablaze with conversations and music, held the echoes of a reunion that had only scratched the surface of the enigma that was Kai.

Kai seamlessly merged into the crowd, a figure of intrigue that drew the attention of the elite attendees. The whispers of admiration followed him like a wake as he navigated through the sea of opulence.

The socialites, adorned in their most exquisite attire, subtly jockeyed for Kai's attention. His magnetic presence, combined with an air of mystery, turned him into a coveted jewel in the ballroom's glittering crown.

A group of elegantly dressed women approached Kai, their eyes shimmering with admiration. They engaged him in animated conversation, laughter and flirtation blending into the rich tapestry of the gala. Kai, the consummate charmer, effortlessly reciprocated, his smiles holding a hint of mischief.

Chanyeol, observing from a distance, felt a twinge of nostalgia. This was the 'Jongin' he remembered, the charismatic friend who effortlessly navigated social circles. Yet, there was an undeniable transformation – an evolution from the carefree high school days to a man who now held court in the circles of power.

Kai's eyes, scanning the room, found Chanyeol's gaze. Their eyes locked momentarily, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Chanyeol wondered how much of their shared history Kai carried with him, and if he, too, felt the weight of unresolved questions.

As the night unfolded, Kai effortlessly glided from one conversation to another, leaving an indelible impression on everyone he encountered. Whispers of admiration and curiosity followed in his wake, painting him as an elusive figure draped in an aura of mystique.

The orchestra shifted its tune, signaling the commencement of another dance. Kai, ever the master of ceremonies, gracefully invited a distinguished lady to join him on the floor. The duo swirled in a choreographed dance, captivating the onlookers with their effortless elegance.

Chanyeol, leaning against a pillar, observed Kai with a mix of admiration and wariness. The dance seemed like a metaphor for their complex relationship – a series of graceful moves on the surface, concealing the intricacies of their uncharted history.

Unable to shake off the lingering tension from his encounter with Kai at the gala, he decided to step out of the opulent ballroom. The air outside was crisp, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere within. He made his way through the grand entrance, casting a final glance over his shoulder as the rhythmic melodies faded into the night.

As he traversed the moonlit courtyard, Chanyeol couldn't shake the feeling that Kai's presence lingered, a ghostly echo in the corridors of his memory. He quickened his pace, determined to unravel the enigma that had resurfaced from his past.

The distant echo of the gala began to fade, replaced by the rhythmic hum of the urban night. Retrieving his car from the valet, Chanyeol drove through the empty streets, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The city skyline sprawled before him, a glittering tapestry of lights that mirrored the myriad thoughts racing through Chanyeol's mind.The city lights painted fleeting glimpses of clarity on his face, revealing the furrowed brow of a man grappling with the shadows of his past. The city's nocturnal pulse throbbed around him as the cab weaved through labyrinthine streets.

As he neared his home, the anticipation in the air grew palpable. Every step felt like an echo, each passing moment a prelude to the imminent confrontation with Kai. The car slowed to a halt, and Chanyeol, drawing a steadying breath, stepped into the night.

In the quietude of his home, Chanyeol's thoughts were a tempest of uncertainty. The revelation of Kai's presence had cast a web of doubt, intertwining the threads of past and present. He pondered the significance of Kai's connection to Y/N, a connection veiled in secrecy and half-truths.

The door creaked open, a portal to the unknown, and Chanyeol stepped into the dimly lit interior. A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the soft glow of light. It was Kai, his expression a mask that betrayed little of the tumult within. Chanyeol` was taken aback, as he wondered how in the heck did Kai manage to get in his home. He thought he was still at the gala where he last saw him.

Chanyeol's gaze bore into Kai's, searching for answers in the depths of those familiar eyes. The silence between them held the weight of unspoken history, a narrative that begged to be unraveled. Kai, breaking the quietude, spoke with a voice that carried the weight of shared memories.

"Loey," Kai began, his words measured, "there are truths that demand reckoning, and i guess the time has come."

As the night unfolded, the conversation between the two men traversed the labyrinth of their shared history. The revelations, like shards of glass, reflected the complexities of a past intertwined with secrets, loyalties, and the presence of Y/N. Chanyeol, haunted by the ghosts of choices made and paths diverged, confronted the reality that awaited him at the crossroads of destiny.

In the tranquil expanse of Chanyeol's apartment, the air buzzed with a silent storm of unresolved history. The soft glow of muted lights cast a flickering dance on the walls, creating an ambiance that mirrored the tension between two figures locked in a confrontation.

Chanyeol, standing at a distance, started with a genuine concern that seeped into his voice, "Jongin, where the hell have you been all these years? You disappeared without a trace, not a word. We were friends, and I... I needed someone back then."

Kai, leaning against a table, his gaze steady, replied with a cryptic smile, "People change, bro. Sometimes they need to disappear to find themselves." His words, a veiled commentary on the passage of time, lingered in the air.

The genuine worry that initially etched Chanyeol's features slowly morphed into a mask of frustration. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and pretend like nothing happened? Like you didn't leave me when I needed you the most?" His words, tinged with betrayal, hung heavy in the room.

Kai, cool as ever, countered with a quirked eyebrow, "Well, I'm here now, aren't I? Things change, people change. Get over it, man." His dismissive tone cut through the lingering emotions, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

“I had literally received word from my mother that my dad died due to a heart attack. I was so lost. I was grieving. Didn’t you think I would need you to be there for me?” Chanyeol said, his voice betraying him by cracking a bit. Kai doesn’t utter a word at this. He knew this, but he chose to stay silent.

The exchange took a sharper turn as Chanyeol, unable to suppress the growing anger, took a step forward. "How do you know Y/N?" The question, edged with a hint of aggression, demanded answers. He felt Kai didn’t give a shit about the past, so he at least wanted to get answers regarding the present.

Kai, unfazed, leaned back with a nonchalant demeanor. "We've known each other since we were young," he answered vaguely, a deliberate choice to keep the details shrouded in mystery.

Chanyeol, frustration bubbling to the surface, fired back with a pointed remark, "People might have believed in your vanishing act, but I sure as hell didn't. You left without a word, without any explanation. Some friend you turned out to be."

Kai, a sly grin playing on his lips, chose to deflect rather than engage. "My turn," he declared, shifting the focus. "How does it feel to still be living in your father's shadows?" The question, a calculated jab at Chanyeol's past, lingered in the charged air.

Chanyeol, his temper rising, retorted with a sharp tone, "I left that life behind. I've got nothing to do with my father or his empire." The words, a declaration of independence, resonated with the weight of Chanyeol's choices.

Kai, undeterred, continued to peel back the layers. "Then why has taking it down been your life's mission for the past eight years?" His inquiry, a challenge to the sincerity of Chanyeol's motives, was met with a brooding silence.

In the midst of the verbal sparring, Chanyeol's patience wore thin, and he snapped back with a pointed question, "Have you and Y/N ever been together romantically?" The words, laced with accusation, sought to unravel any hidden connections. Why do I need to answer his questions about my past when he obviously doesn’t give a flying fuck?!?

Kai, seizing the opportunity to maintain the upper hand, chuckled and replied vaguely, "We've always been platonic friends, except for that one time we almost kissed each other way back when." His playful evasion added another layer of mystery to the already complex dynamic.

As the verbal jousting continued, Chanyeol, now fueled by frustration and confusion, pressed on with a revelation. "We confessed our love to each other not too long ago. We're together, Jongin." The admission, intended to assert his present happiness, instead intensified the brewing storm.

Kai, eyes betraying a hint of emotion, couldn't resist taking a dig. "Some gall you have to be in a relationship with her. You are obviously toying her around. I wouldn’t believe it for a second that you ..hah…actually ‘love’ her," he remarked, the words dripping with resentment.

Chanyeol, no stranger to the art of verbal combat, shot back with defiant pride, "What the hell do you mean by that shit?"

The atmosphere grew dense with unspoken grievances as Kai, choosing to remain enigmatic, delivered a cryptic warning. "If you have the slightest bit of shame and guilt for what your father has done to this city, or even the people who were under his employ for that matter, you'd stay away from Y/N."

Chanyeol, anger boiling over, demanded an explanation. "What the fuck are you on about?"

Kai, unwilling to reveal more, decided it was time to end the conversation. As he made his way toward the exit, Chanyeol's frustration reached its peak, and he shouted after him, "Who do YOU think you are, telling me what I must do or who I must love? Get the hell out of my home Jongin or Kai or whatever the fuck you call yourself now You are a fucking traitor, and have proven without a shadow of a doubt that we were never friends and now never will be!"

Kai stopped, turned around, and with a parting shot, said, "You sure about that, Loey?" The words lingered in the air as Kai exited, leaving Chanyeol seething with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of unrest.

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kjmcotton · 6 months

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Art is justice-Jongin

From the Halloween advent calendar🎃

Kim Jongin x general!reader

Living statue!AU

Warnings:splatter content,death

If sensitive,please,don’t read

Art. That was it:art in its purest form.

White,smooth marble that,thanks to your own hands and a few tools, had turned into the most beautiful non-human being you had ever seen.

You didn't know who or what he was meant to represent:he was just a feeling, a bad feeling you had to exorcise to leave a peaceful life;however, it turned into something beautiful.

The statue of a young,gorgeous man was now standing in front of you:his body wrapped up in a folded white tunic,a crown of laurel gently put on his head by an invisible god and,around him,skulls. So many skulls carved with deep,empty holes instead of lively eyes:some of them were broken, others just cracked,others perfectly untouched;and,around them, hungry crows looking for crumbs of meat.

The young man was staring at the massacre around him,sitting on something between a throne and a dead three,you didn't know what you had sculpted there,and you didn't want to know.

His gaze was lost in translation between rage,pain,revenge and hunger for blood;however you couldn't give him a precise identity:was he Apollo? Was he Hades? Was he just death? No one could tell,not even his creator.

You stepped closer to the statue,letting the chisel fall on the ground, and traced his jaw with your index. So smooth,so sharp,so perfect.

He was born exactly how you wanted him to be:the most beautiful,deadly creature your mind could think of;so,right in that moment,lead by pride,you decided you would’ve called him Jongin.

Jongin:the favourite between your children,the supreme exemplum of what your art had to be.

You were ready to show him to the world. You wanted him to be seen by all those critics and art buyers that laughed at your face when you proposed them your works,the most real transposition of your soul.

Your soul. A troubled one,a black hole so powerful and so full of feelings that it had been absorbed even by your new creation. Nobody believes it,but what our soul asks for is given by the universe.

That was why,suddenly,all those people who had called you talentless,ridiculous,unskilled started dying one after another,all in mysterious circumstances.

You didn’t ask yourself any question,you just watched them perish like flies burnt by the light of a street lamp while your statues had begun to fill the stands of the most famous exhibitions all around the world.

Finally,you were accomplished,you were happy. Justice had done her job,you thought,but…what was actual justice? Or who was?

Jongin was…but you would’ve found it out too late.

You had just come back to your studio,it was late at night and you were sure you had forgotten the keys of your new apartment there.

You closed the door behind your back,turning on the lights,just to notice that something was off…extremely off.

Jongin was sitting right in front of you,but you didn’t remember putting him so close to the door:he used to stand in the right corner,next to the sculpting tools.

You stared at him for a while,sure that his marble eyes weren’t so made of marble anymore.

Creeped out, you walked away too look at him from a different angle of the studio:everything seemed fine until…he turned around.

You startled,unwillingly pushing yourself against the wall,while Jongin stood up from his seat and walked towards you.

He grabbed you by the throat,staring into your soul without even owning pupils or irids.

You thought you had gone mad,but the truth was that you hadn’t:he was just applying the principles of justice he had somehow developed in his evil soul.

You indeed were a great artist,but you also were a terrible person to his eyes:you had wished death to so many people,and when they actually died,you were happy.

Was that right? It wasn’t to Jongin. They were evil,but you were even more evil. And the worst? The worst was that you made Jongin himself evil.

If he was a monster it was only because you shared a piece of your dark soul with him.

He couldn’t stand that. He was an innocent turned into a monster.

With all the rage he had in his body,he dragged your almost unconscious body towards the shelves holding your tools.

He analysed them carefully,immediately noticing the chisel you had used to sculpt him. Then,he grabbed it.

You knew what he was about to do,so you tried to fight back,but it was useless:with an homicidal move your own creation stuck the chisel in your throat,watching as your body fell in a puddle of blood.

Your cadaver laid there for days;on the wall behind it a clear message written with the red liquid:

Art is justice. Evil souls will be punished.

#kim jongin #kai exo #jongin x reader #jongin scenarios #kai x reader #kai x you #spooktober #horror #exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x you #exo x reader #exo x y/n #kpop imagines #exo fanfic #kpop fanfic #exo

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moonlightjongin · 2 years

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Storge (Jongin’s Series Of Love)

♡ Pairing -- Kim Jongin x Reader ♡ Genre -- Supernatural, Fluff, Angst ♡ AUs -- Guardian Angel!AU, Heaven!AU ♡ Description -- (concept) ‘Storge’ is the Greek word for the natural affection people feel for those closest to them. Storge is a love that exists between parents and their children but can go beyond this, storge can also be displayed in companions, and exceptionally close friends. It is said that storge is a casual form of love usually based in memories; storge is an underlying love driven by the desire to compassionately care for another. (summary) ...Your Guardian Angel Jongin, who has been guiding you from afar all this while, hopes with everything in him that he’s done a good job with that, vowing to continue doing so as you take upon yourself a very new challenge, working alongside him in the realms of aether. ♡ Wordcount -- 11,414 words. ♡ Warnings -- Non-descriptive mentions of dying, descriptions of grief, blood/injuries. ♡ A/N -- Feedback is very welcome and very appreciated. ♡

Main Masterlist || Series Of Love Masterlist || 🏹 also in the series... Storge (familial love; natural affection). Philautia (self love). Philia (platonic love; the love of friendship). Ludus (playful love; uncommitted love). Pragma (enduring love; practical love). Eros (passionate, sensual love). Agape (unconditional love). Mania (obsessive love).

When Jongin first lay his eyes on you, they had brimmed with tears yet to spill, a warmth coursing through him that threatened to engulf each atom of his being. The most gentle smile graced his lips as he watched you grip your mother's finger with your tiny hand, placing his own, much larger hand against his chest. He proceeded to exhale one deep, heavy breath, the tenderness of the moment having been too much for him to take in that the thoughtlessly effortless and wholly necessary function of being -- breath -- felt like it were suddenly a world away, entirely out of reach.

Like you. Though separated by several dimensions, realms and perceptions, in that moment Jongin had wanted nothing more than to whisk you up into his own arms and cradle you gently to his chest, rock you back and forth until the confusion and unrivalled chaos of coming into existence settled.

He'd heard numerous tales of the intensity of the moment, every Guardian Angel had. Of the honor of being assigned one's very own human to watch over, protect and guide to the best of their ability. But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer gush of love and amazement he'd felt as it truly dawned on him, that finally, after all the years of preparation and intensive training, he had you.

As much as he'd assisted and offered humanity a helping hand in guidance over the course of his own existence, he was finally taking his very first step into fulfilling the sole purpose he had as a Guardian Angel.

True as it were that he didn't know all there was to know about you and had, still, a long journey ahead with you, it was as if the previous woes of separation that had been dragging him into a deep pit of anxiety and despair whenever he'd overhear a fellow Guardian Angel gush about their Human -- as if the awful, nagging question of when hadn't already been creeping into his own thoughts during the nondescript, menial tasks of his day as it were -- when would he be allocated his own human to watch over, when would he be allowed onto the most defining chapter and journey of his existence, all but washed away.

The timing must've been divine, because it led him to being assigned you.

And truly, even though he had much to learn about you, much to learn through you, still, he already knew he wouldn't exchange you for the world.

With the intensity of the feeling coming onto him this strongly, already, the joy and pride burning through him, singeing itself into his very bones, he wondered if this first encounter with you would be the peak emotionality of the experience, if from this moment forward, his emotions would settle into a feeling much more contained, calm, like the lapping waves of the deepest, wisest ocean against its much cherished shorelines; perhaps in a manner of knowing similar to the way his wings would flutter against his shoulder blades with such natural ease, the internal process having ingrained itself into his very essence after a lifetime of being directed on how to do so by Jongin himself.

Until the next day hit. Then the next month. And endlessly he'd find himself bathing in a feeling of such pride, of the most gentle affection and adoration, an unfathomable joy every time you so much as blinked, or made a movement that showcased your awareness of your existence to your parents -- who, as he'd observed -- were quite the turbulent pair within the vicinity of each other, which all but seemed to dissolve when their eyes fell onto you, the apple of their eyes, the highlight of their day.

He was a sobbing mess when you said your first word, when you took your first step. He'd never had the best control over his emotions, which was something his fellow angels would chuckle at and tease him about from time to time, telling him he'd been cut from a much more sensitive end of the cloth than they had, but he surely hadn't cried as much in all his years as he did the first few years of your life. ...And this was only from the joys of the experience.

He daren't even contemplate the fabled sadness that humanity had also been blessed, or perhaps cursed with. Time was vastly different for the two of you, the distance between your realms wasn't quantifiable in human terms and an absolute impossibility for you to breach on your end, one with a catch on his own. Though he could visit you, he'd never be able to be visible to you, unless you well and truly believed in him and could sense his presence. Guardian Angels were told to not get their expectations and hopes up about that because humans mostly called upon their Guardian Angels in times of desperation and grief.

In the vast majority of cases it was a feeble and half-hearted call at that, and as humanity had never been taught that there exist definite connections such as this -- that of a human and their Guardian Angel -- they never viewed it as a possibility for themselves, besides being a last resort in reference of what they believed to be a religious fable or fairy tale that evidently had no true basis in reality.

Guardian Angels were fiercely warned about the repercussions of causing such stress in humans, just so they could interact face to face with their human or humans in general, and it could result in them losing both their connection to their human and their status as a Guardian Angel.

Jongin was coming to you from a place of utmost care, protection and devotion, he felt, so he would never do anything to place you in harms way, jeopardize your bond, nor did he ever want to see you sad. He'd been told to prepare himself for it, because the human sphere of emotion was truly volatile at the best of times and the vast majority of humans would go on to face many ups and downs during their time on the earthly plane, but even so, he knew he would find ways to comfort you from afar and lend a helping hand in any form he, as your Guardian Angel, had been allocated and allowed.

The earliest months of your youth passed smoothly and to Jongin, you were a blissful assignment, so full of joy and wonderment about the world around you, that the thoughts of any sad times you may have been on the path to encounter slipped to the very backs of his mind.

Until that changed in one swift moment at eight months old, as your mother stormed into your room in a haphazard disarray, mascara lining her cheeks, screaming obscenities at your father in the living room, as she pulled you from your crib, disturbing you into a startled cry in an instant, and marched back to face your father head on. Knowing all he could do to protect you in this moment in time was to wrap you in a sheen of protective, healing light and energy, Jongin watched with bated breath as your own cries eventually lessened, however, he had no way of telling you how your world was about to change, and neither did your parents, you were in no way able to understand the severity of the situation. Frankly, neither was Jongin.

It was a bitingly cold, bitter blue morning when your mother pulled up at the airport, and an even colder night, clouds heavy with rain, when you arrived in Paris, completely unaware this journey had been a one-way trip, for the both of you. Your mother had met someone months prior, a Parisian man of much renown, and before they even realized what was hitting them, sparks flew, and in their lovestruck daze, your mother accepted this man's advances behind your father's back, delighting in the excitement he brought to her difficult circumstances, her failing marriage.

Through his rage and hatred, which Jongin felt viscerally and had to carefully view as to not singe himself, your father demanded you be left with him if your mother preferred to ‘gallivant around Paris with her new lover’, mouth poisoned with the most vicious of insults, telling her she'd destroyed the sanctity of marriage. To which she replied, bitterly, "wherever had it ever been, with you?". Neither cried, as behind the rage and resentment, they felt a wave of relief and ease wash over them, realizing they had freed themselves from the shackles of unhappiness they were currently causing themselves, even if the method of doing so held the many immoral tenets it did.

But you were a different topic to them, entirely. A bitter, relentless battle. They would go on to spend years vying for sole custody of you, years vying to tie you solely to either Korea or France, your father losing sleep over it, nearly falling into debt because of it. Though you'd flitted between both countries like a homeless butterfly during this, the court eventually ruled in your mother's favor, perhaps because of her lover's influence and seemingly ever increasing bank balance, but that didn't mean you never got to see your biological father again. Some summer and winter breaks were spent in Korea. There was also this fascinating invention called a smartphone that allowed you two to videocall as often as you could.

Eventually, your father moved on, as well, with a kind-hearted, gentle lady who would treat you with nothing but respect, though still wearied of overstepping any boundaries. Unlike on your mother's end, no half-siblings were added into the equation through your father's newfound love.

Settling in took a bit of getting used to, at first. You worked hard at your French, practising most often through your stepfather; a lean, well put together man, who offered you day trips and homemade bread dipped in the finest of olive oils, and would eventually go on to buy you a grand piano, which had been your first love, prior to meeting your soul mate in the violin.

He was insanely musically inclined himself, and picked up on your talents early, something you feel eternally grateful for. And as initially awkward as the relationship had been, you began to find a solace in your stepfather, in his ability to stop arguments before they stewed and simmered and boiled over into something much greater than they were destined. He treated you as equally he did the children he'd go on to parent with your mother, considering you one of them. That wasn't as easy for you, considering you loved your biological father as much as you loved your mother, and you would only get to see him a few times a year in person, but eventually you grew fond of having two fathers, so to speak. It was especially fun having siblings, and not being the only child, any longer.

The first seed of confusion was planted within you, when your mother crouched beside your bed on the evening of a stormy Thursday night in June, sobbing, as she proceeded to tell you just how much she wished she had've met your stepfather first. You pretended to be asleep, your back towards her. She didn't see how your brows furrowed softly, as she'd then go on to tell you how you were her only saving grace but the shame ate her within, how your grandmother wanted nothing to do with her after the divorce. The fact she had children with two men. But she made it clear that night that if she had the choice between the two, your father and your stepfather, she'd have chosen your stepfather. It confused you because where would that place you on this spectrum? She didn't specify besides letting you know she loved you and she'd never regret you. But if she could, would she want you to be borne to your stepfather too? You tried not to think too hard about it. Tried not to wonder if your father felt the same, but with his new partner.

The reason behind your first time crying yourself to sleep was because of school. The even more confusing, terrifying realization that now, in this entirely new country, nobody looked like you, nobody sounded like you, nobody ate the same foods you did, a situation you initially thought was a point of celebration, how within you existed a vast piece of knowing of another part of the world, the unification of cultures and experiences, but not everyone seemed to agree with that. And though you did as much as you could to avoid these people's harsh, pointed gazes, it seemed like they'd find a new difference to point out everyday, until you hid the depth of your heritage behind their own, and didn't bring it up in conversation unless it was brought up first, which tore into your spirit and cracked your heart greatly.

Be it only a select few who acted this way with you, Jongin would still watch on everyday, painstakingly wishing he could just intervene, show you that you didn't have to take this treatment from anyone, ever. He knew some experiences and findings were your own to discover, but that didn't stop him from intervening as slyly and delicately as he could, such as blowing the main perpetrator's completed homework sheet out of his binder and ensuring it fell far away and that it happened gently enough to not alert him. He saw your own eyes flit to it for a second, and usually you'd react, likely hand it back to the person regardless of how they'd been treating you, but this time you blinked, a moment's movement, and decided not to.

Which was good enough for Jongin. Minor instances like this would persist any time the main perpetrator acted up and though he would still sneer at you from time to time, his acts of violence stopped flat when the mother of a fellow student told his mother about the way her son had been terrorizing his classes, how he'd been terrorizing fellow students, her own child included. Seemingly, his mother's grounding of him paired with her taking away his prized possessions and making him write a hand written apology to each and every student he'd tormented as well as having to read it in front of the class to them, seemed to do the trick.

You'd long since lost interest in any of that, however, having found yourself in the music room in your spare time, drinking up each and every note, learning everything you could. By this point, your French had improved to the point you were finally contemplating calling yourself bilingual, but music was a language within itself, and you were starting to realize your fluency in it came before any spoken tongue, as much love as you had for both Korean and French at this stage. Music... felt freeing. Like an adventure and home all in one. A safe sanctuary and a push outside of your comfort zone all the same.

Jongin watched every moment, every fear, frustration, woe and setback on your path to becoming the renowned and famed violinist you now are, experiencing all these emotions alongside you, crying with you, worrying with you. He watched every triumph, celebration and gleeful cause of enjoyment also, celebrating alongside you, even though you couldn't see him. Sometimes he felt sure you could at least feel him.

And how proud of you he was. How proud of you he'd always be.

Jongin's fingers thread through his hair as he lets out one, long exhale. The outward breath releasing all the stresses of his day, however minor they may have been in the grand scheme of things. He straightens his posture as he gently rolls up his daily task scroll, watching the enchanted piece of parchment glisten as he does so, the neat, cursive lettering slowly disappearing within itself as he ties a bow over it and brushes it off to his side. His days are jam-packed from the moment he awakens from his 'rest', though not at all necessary for his kind, it certainly helps to quicken any necessary healing process, prevent fatigue and reinforce routine.

Today had been a much lighter workload than usual, and he wonders if he's been allocated some semblance of free time to simply enjoy this defining moment of your life. Your first broadcasted concert, nationwide. In a venue you'd thought you'd only ever dream of performing in.

Strangely, despite how huge today is for you, he feels peaceful, oddly serene. You'll do well, he feels so within every fibre of his being.

Truthfully, as much as he'd convinced himself he'd been prepared for this, for everything it would entail to take on his duty as a Guardian Angel, he had, for a long time, dismayed of this -- of watching over someone who would never know of him or his existence, never feel his presence, never engage in conversation with him, but over the years, the feeling simply simmered into something else, shifted into a much gentler, warmer understanding, unconditional in its marker.

As much as he would still love to be able to openly converse with you, give you a warm helping -- corporeal -- hand whenever you needed it and remind you that within you existed all you needed to achieve all you had ever wanted, the truth was, you didn't have to know him, openly call to him and rely on him for your bond to legitimately feel as real, corporeal, precious and necessary as it was.

Sure, the bittersweet element would always exist, but everyday, his heart swells with joy and pride from simply knowing you, from having been entrusted with the honor of being your Guardian Angel. He hears of it often, hears fellow Guardian Angels sing the praises of their humans from the highest corners of the heavens, witnesses the jovial steps a Guardian Angel will take when they've finished their daily contact with their human, hears it in lulling wisp of their words, however soft, it's hard to miss the protective layer these words will be wrapped in; the innate knowledge that if a Guardian Angel had a life to give, there lay no doubt that they would give it to ensure the safety of their human in a mere heartbeat.

Truly, through all of this, Jongin feels he's lucked out with you.

Jongin leaves his work desk and decides to dress for the day ahead, slipping into a sheer, glittering pink ensemble, a lot freer than his usual attire, though still as outwardly ethereal. By the time he's ready, considering the intricacy of angelic clothing, with all of its buttons and laces, you will be thirty minutes away from pulling up at your destination. Though extensively separated, the nerves and excitement bubbling within you are also washing off on him, though he feels that the excitement outweighs the nervousness in this case. You'll do so well, he knows it. Today will be unlike any other, it will be a night to remember. The day, the evening, the night everything you've worked so hard for becomes yours.

He'll watch every second of it, he's vowed to. But just as he's about to finish buttoning his much too intricate shirt, a flash of light catches his attention, which makes him look away for a split second. Thinking nothing of it, he turns back to his table, glancing down at his most frequented corner of the only world he's ever known.

Before a silence washes over the room. Though everything looks as it should, there's been a stark change in the atmosphere. There's nothing to be heard, except for the even sound of his breath, nothing to feel but the suddenly deafening thunder of his own heartbeat. When it hits him hard and all at once how unusual this silence is, he only just picks up on how dark his surroundings are becoming, how they're beginning to blur into each other like they were never separated to begin with, before it all fades to black.

"What--?" He starts, upon reawakening, before a harrowing realization hits. This wasn't normal.

"No," Jongin chokes out. "No, no, no. That can't be." But he can't hear you, can't sense you and certainly can't see you right now. It's a mere ten minutes until your performance if his calculations are correct, and yet here he is, still not ready, presently having no idea what it is that is happening in his realm. Power outages were extremely infrequent, infrequent enough that a guardian angel could be taken aback by the unusualness of them, but why now? Why today, on the most important, defining moment of your life?

Jongin's thoughts are running wild, a frenzied energy overwhelms him as he contemplates what's happening. Why can't he move? Why is this ever deepening darkness swallowing him whole, why is the world he knows blurring within itself and most importantly... where are you?

Finally, realization hits.

In a wave that threatens to engulf the entirety of his being whole. The entirety of heaven's being, he feels.

He hears the sound before he truly understands what is happening, hears the glass shattering like it's right there in front of him digging into his own features and clawing away at his own flesh, hears the cheers of the fans you've accumulated over the years silencing, before they become shrill gasps and pained cries and screams, hears the sound of hundreds if not thousands of cameras clicking before they also fizzle out into the stark understanding and realization that something isn't right.

...Then it's chaos.

The sound of you being rushed to the hospital, of your mother's, stepfather and half-siblings' sobs and screams. Doctors and nurses pleading with them, telling them that they'd do all they could, just to, please, please let them work.

"A drunk driver," the nurse eventually whispers, though Jongin swore he hadn't missed a moment, the nurse's words are what break through the debilitating wave of agony that's drowned him, seemingly muted everything around him. Though her tone is stable, trained, she knows of you, she knew what day this was for you, it's a blatantly harrowing statement for her to make, but that knowledge doesn't comfort Jongin. "I'm sorry."

No one. No one, between land nor sea, no one was expecting this. And especially not Jongin. The room of imprisonment is in a disarray, his arms are thick, wet with the blood he's somehow managed to etch and tear out of his supposedly unbreakable vessel in the hopes of identifying and locating the exit of this blatant room of imprisonment he's been forced into. And it'll continue; he'll force and tear his way out of any forceful holding that his higher ups try and keep him in if it continues to mean no news of what's happening with and to you, where, how and what will come next of it.

Caring little that his arms are lined with self inflicted etchings, dismissing a pain that begins to seep its way through him that he can't remember feeling for at least several millennia, knowing it can't even begin to compare to what you just went through. How you didn't even arrive to the biggest show of your life, the turning point of your career, the day that defined the rest of your life -- your entire future.

Gone, in an instant. Head on in a collision no one saw coming. Not even your Guardian Angel, who prided himself on his knowing of all things you.

He catches his frazzled reflection in the long, windy mirror in front of him and screams, a fraction of a second passing before the mirror itself shatters into a thousand pieces before him. He contemplates picking up one of the shards and carving his way out of the room of holding, but before he even has chance the glass morphs and moulds into a fine, sand-like substance, disappearing in between the space of his toes.

Finally, comes a knock. Minutes, hours, days, had they passed? He doesn't know. The silence outside of his inner and outer turmoil has persisted, his thundering heartbeat and deafening sobs serving as the only indicator of the time between.

"Jongin?"

"Leave me," he chokes. Simply sitting. Blatantly the room of holding had different laws than both heaven and earth, it seemed to be a room of his own making, a room he could change the dimensions of just by the depth of his feeling, his agony. So something as simple as sitting should be fine, should it not?

Not that he'd cared if the ground swallowed him whole either, at the present moment in time. Maybe any moment from here on out.

When he can taper into the connection you share -- fuzzy, muted and agonizing as it currently is, he watches the world mourn, but he feels it pales in comparison to his own grief, the unfamiliar feeling of sentience, self hatred, anger. An anger that burrows deep and cements itself inside him, demands to be felt. He screams, cries and kicks for all his might, but it won't change what happened to you. It won't allow him to live the day over and do everything in and outside of his power to bring you back. Here he was, as your Guardian Angel, and yet even he couldn't protect you, stop this atrocious crash from taking place?

The room shifts again, but Jongin doesn't bother to take any note of its changes until lights are pushing through his self inflicted darkness and blinding him. He curls into a ball, but refuses to close his eyes, not caring about the damage these lights may cause him, preferring the blindness to be his, if it comes to that, than yours. If there were a way to exchange his eyes for yours, his internal processes for your own, his own beating heart for yours, there wouldn't even be a question.

You'd be here right now. Alive.

What would heaven expect of him now? How dare they?

Moments, hours, days, it's one of the three, he knows that much, but he's done with pretending he cares to differentiate right now or ever again. There's a creasing, crinkling sound, akin to the sound of movement, albeit angelic.

The being places itself beside Jongin, who refuses to look up, caring not about the consequences right now. If ever again. What did any of it mean, anymore? What did any of it matter, without you, his sole purpose for existing, the one being above all else he had to keep safe and protect... gone in a instant. How could anyone look him in the eye again, if he were so useless as to not be able to predict this when he had the encyclopedia of all things you tucked away in his shirt's pocket, embedded into his own, horribly, selfishly beating heart.

Yours wouldn't beat again, would it?

Finally, after what must feel like an eternity to the being, but can't possibly compete with the eternity of agony Jongin's going through, he forces his head upwards meeting eyes with a messenger-in-training, a small, fluttery being, clad in blue-white robes. Their expression indiscernible, yet seemingly prepared for an outburst.

He hoped they wouldn't get one and he'd apologize in advance, but he had no notebook of heavenly principles and elements to follow in a situation like this, no guidebook on how to react when his sole reason for being had been taken from him with no warning.

Instead, a millennia's knowledge on how to be a good soldier, how to have emotion but not too much, an innate agonizing realization of how he'll more than likely be expected to report back to his desk and record everything after the period of grief heaven's so 'graciously' granting him ends. Somehow be expected to continue existing without you.

How?

"It was not just her," the messenger-in-training cuts straight to the point, their body language telling him they're not here for a fight, and are genuinely hoping not to have to go on the defensive, and simply here to deliver the message. "That is why you could not interfere."

And blatantly why he'd been so at ease, having had his senses numbed so he couldn't pick up on any change in the atmosphere, sense this collision prior to it taking place.

Jongin says nothing. Jongin doesn't move. He's not sure where he is or even how this place exists, but suspended space or not, he's managed to convince himself it's a room, that there's a floor, objects, glaring overhead lights, that currently he's sitting, and the patch of ground his eyes are honed in on is truly, somehow there. The mirror's gone, but that had been there, too. So had you, once.

"Understandably you wish for me to leave you be, but--" The messenger-in-training won't meet Jongin's gaze directly. "I must inform you."

Five minutes pass. Jongin says nothing.

"Will you speak?" The messenger-in-training asks. "Is there anything you wish to ask?"

It's at this moment the messenger-in-training notices the trail of blood that surrounds their own higher up, which results in a wince. They say nothing, but the miniscule moment doesn't go amiss to Jongin. How he wished for the messenger's naivety at this moment, their lack of understanding of a bond like this. Just bright hope for their future journey and development. Their eternity. Turn back, the grief within him wants to scream. Ask for another journey, another placement within heaven. This is your future.

But he can't. He can't because he knows that he'd exchange everything if it meant having you to watch over, again. How could he knock this naive present day messenger away from the most defining aspect of their existence, the one thing a Guardian Angel desires and hopes for above all else? Even if this present moment in time feels like a slow, torturous death of the most unspeakable kind, still, nothing in heaven compares to the bond you share, nothing in heaven can compete. Nothing in heaven could ever hope to compete. Perhaps that's why he stays silent.

"...And what happens now?"

"I though you would never ask." The messenger-in-training smiles here, a smile Jongin can't even begin to comprehend. His fellow Guardian Angels used to say he never stopped. Smiling, that is. Now he wonders if he'll ever smile again. "It is the most unusual happening, sire. Y/N..."

Jongin winces at the use of your name. Deeper than the messenger-in-training had prior. He wills himself not to fall apart, crumble into sand like the mirror had with him, however long ago that had been.

As if nothing is wrong, the messenger-in-training continues, "she will arrive in a day or two. Here, in heaven. Human time, of course."

As if the messenger is playing a cruel joke, Jongin stay quiet. He locks eyes with the messenger, the pain swirling in them so visceral, the messenger has to look away to compose them self.

"Here?" He finally chokes out.

"Here," they confirm. "To be trained under you. Your journey is not over. Not that any of us expected it to be."

The pained cry that threatens to swallow the room whole results in confusion on the expression of the messenger-in-training but they daren't press Jongin on the matter. So much so that when he requests, possibly in the smallest voice he's capable of mustering, "leave me," the request is met.

"But before I leave, you must be back in your quarters before she arrives, you are aware of that?"

Waves crash against a bleached white shore, the air cool against Jongin's skin, an unruly lock of his hair slapping against his forehead with every other gust of wind that comes his way, but he stay still as a rock, posture straighter than ever. Waiting.

Some angelic beings chose differently than Jongin. Some chose not to guide humanity, some chose to watch over earth itself, some chose to upkeep the heavens. It has been said that some heavenly souls chose to incarnate as human themselves, to then come back once their time was up on the earthly plane.

Surely, two of those three paths had their ups and downs also, but if Jongin's sure of anything, he's sure they're not expected to hold up and keep face in the position he currently is. He's sure they're not expected to stand strong and tidy when their whole world has been taken from them, the very ground they're used to standing on, pulled from underneath them. He hasn't measured the days... in days. Hasn't looked at a clock since, hasn't taken note of the changes in the daylight, the night sky.

Maybe you'll be the only one to understand what he's currently feeling, in the instance this was what you chose. But he knows within himself, even if he can't confide in anyone else about it, that you didn't choose this. And if you didn't choose this, Jongin finds no other alternative explanation than to blame himself for what happened to you. Blame himself for not being able to foresee what was about to take place when once again he'd been nothing but the encyclopedia of all things you, since you came into your earthly existence. Sees no other alternative for not being able to save you in time, even if it entailed losing everything he had forged for himself, even if it meant losing everything heaven had given him.

At this point, you'll arrive when you arrive and he'll try his utmost to act like heaven expects of him. Deliver your training, pretend like any of this was justified.

When it wasn't.

Isn't.

Never will be.

Some time has evidently passed. A rustle of leaves is heard in the previously deafening silence. Jongin's wide, white feathered wings flap once, an instinctual movement, one he has no control over. His breath is sharp, shallow, as he holds the blade he and every other Guardian Angel is in possession of to his chest. These weapons were mostly precautionary, in case of intruders of heaven, something heaven and its inhabitants hadn't need worry about in at least several millennia, but wars had existed in the past, and the inhabitants needed to be trained in case of one ever breaking out again, or in the extremely rare case of an intrusion into heaven's walls. These days, these weapons were mostly for decoration. Jongin's had never been used.

Right now, he has one purpose. Collect his underlings and guide them to their rooms, help them settle as much as he's been allocated to. Answer any of their questions as he does so, do everything he can to make this journey easier for his underlings, for the newer, younger angels in training. This time, a gnawing, visceral pain cuts through him, splintering him within. Even though he now knows beyond a doubt that your eternity was promised, the guilt still bubbles within, cuts into every joint, every blood cell. If illness could materialize in heaven like it can on earth, he's sure he'd be the very definition of decay, this moment in time.

He knows not if it's a blessing or a curse that it can't. At least this time. As he takes one step closer, he's not sure what he's expecting, how many underlings he'd been expecting, but in some sick twist of fate, it's you, alone. You don't look like you've just had your life taken from you in a metal death contraption, at least not physically. You're not bloodied, broken or bruised like you once had been. You're not strapped to a million and one wires that are doing overtime to ensure you're allocated one more year... month, week, hour, minute of life. The light in your eyes hasn't been drained and torn from you, like it was that fateful day.

He knows he wouldn't be able to keep his composure if any of that were to be presented before him, but is this worse? That it's now being painted like a rebirth, or even worse, like a surprise ending to a chapter of a book that abruptly ended. Like a beautiful eternity you've somehow unlocked from a premature death, a violent, bloody death. One no one saw coming.

As if that makes up for it. As if you could've ever contemplated such brutality for yourself on the most important day of your life? Like you would've ever chose that. Jongin knows you wouldn't. You know you wouldn't.

All for an eternity you didn't ask for, in a realm you'd re-enter with no memory of. A foreign, alien land so unlike that of the earth you'd known. It didn't sound like a good deal to Jongin.

Didn't feel like one when he had to watch you cry, scream and try your hardest to claw your way out of this seemingly new body and realm you'd found yourself in.

"I don't want this," you say. And he's speechless. All he can do is look at you, feel the crease between his eyebrows, feel the heart beating in his chest that's already been shattered into pieces innumerable, shatter all over again.

You're on your knees now, the sand around you caring not where it ends up. On your clothing, mixed into your hair, your eyelashes, wet with tears unending. If your emotion would materialize on your being at this very moment, you'd look like you did after the crash had taken place.

Jongin wants to fall to his knees too.

"Let me go back," you sob, and though you're a far distance away, you reach out your hand but he's not even sure if it's to him, or even if you've noticed him properly, it's like in this present state you're reaching out to anyone who'd listen. Who could grant you your desire.

Maybe instinctively you know Jongin can't.

He takes a deep breath as he edges closer, ever so gently taking hold of your arm, but it's still like you don't feel it. You're limp when he picks you up, guiding you onto your feet. Again, just like that god-awful day, your eyes have no light, your body has no fight. It comes on suddenly, so suddenly and it takes everything in him to not fall to his own knees and beg for your forgiveness, regardless of what anyone could or would say in protest.

This clearly had to have been his fault. He wanted to know you, too much. Wanted to converse with you, too much. Maybe he'd slyly intervened just a little too much? Who knew, but the reasons within his mind seemed numerous. He wouldn't accept that you would've chosen this.

"This too, will pass," he feels like a hypocrite to his own ears. Would it? Really? And maybe the words sound distant, floaty and stable to your own ears, but he hears the thickness of his words, tastes the way he chokes them out. He's not poised right now, even if he seems so to an untrained eye. If this were training, he'd have already failed. And he's thankful you're not coherent, because he'd give anything to cry the tears for you, than have to sob alongside you, for the life you've had cut short from you. The world you've been torn away from.

Counting the days comes a little easier now you're in front of him, existing in the same realm as him. But every hour stings still, every minute, even. Three long weeks take place, three weeks that you spend the most of in agony, he, the same, though he knows you can't tell. Before you arrived, he couldn't hide any of it, but now you're here, he feels that he must. He refuses to make your transition harder, refuses to make this any more harrowing and painful for you. You need some sense of stability. He has to try his hardest to be that for you.

Until you finally meet eyes with him, eyes dry of tears you thought you'd never run out of, an emptiness residing there instead. His own demeanor falters. Hope had always been something so tenderly threaded within your being, even at the worst of times, that it felt so agonizingly out of place to see it depleted, entering into a realm of hopelessness.

Maybe you don't notice how he gulps the lump down in his throat, the way he averts his gaze only slightly.

"What am I even supposed to do here?"

He explains everything. The seemingly endless possibilities. How you'll train and study and help upkeep the heavens, keep watch. From A-Z, he explains it all, sounding like a trained salesperson to his own ears. It's almost humorous. Just how long had he been here, really? On the manual of all things heaven, Jongin knows he wouldn't miss a punctuation mark. None of that is your focus right now, though, and he can see the burning question swirl within your irises.

"Do I get to go to earth?"

His lack of reply as he composes himself seems to be all the confirmation you need that... that's not currently on the cards and may never be again. His eyes follow your movements helplessly as you kick the ground beneath you, your eyes once again welling with tears, falling onto your knees, hands balled into fists, before they fan flat, your nail almost chipping from the pressure you're exerting as you dig it into the ground below you, as if you can claw your way back.

He understands.

Training is going as planned, as are the lessons. Whilst your spirit isn't in it, not even slightly, it's no lie that you grasp concepts well and excel in ways he once had, during his own days of training. It's almost a case of rinse, rest, repeat as you fall into this routine. Wake up, study extensively, rest, repeat. The light in your eyes still isn't back, and Jongin's trying to come to terms with the possibility that it might never be there again. But you're excelling, grasping everything the way you're expected to. Though he knows the hours that aren't allocated to studying, they're filled with your despair, endless tears you swore you'd seen the last of, the day before, the day before that. But now you hide them from your peers and Jongin feels that's even worse.

Even more difficult.

He doesn't expect that of you, but he feels he has no way of telling you so.

Today's lesson ends a little differently, however. You approach him, determination lining your features. "Teacher," you start, and he nods to encourage you, let you know he's listening, though his eyes don't fully meet your own, they stay trained to the piece of paper he's writing on. "Is there a... way to go back?"

He stills, glancing up at you, breath slightly hitching.

"To earth, I mean."

"I know what you mean," Jongin says gently. He's not sure how guarded his own expression is because he watches some semblance of understanding flitter behind your eyes. Jongin shakes his head and moves to get up from the desk he's sitting at. Now you know he has more insight on the topic, this is not something you're just going to drop, not with your inquisitive, determined nature.

"Please," you then plead, catching up to his long strides as you reach out to stop him from leaving the room. "Can we at least just discuss this? Even if briefly?"

Sitting you back down, you're not expecting the extensive reply you receive. How Jongin covers every basis. From every angle. The possible impossibility, the warnings if it were possible, the consequences, so far, so forth. None of his words are judgemental, you can't actually pinpoint the emotion behind them, if there is an emotion behind them. It's all just factual, as theoretically factual as it can be, considering no one in heaven has ever pulled this off, nor ever attempted to. You listen, intently. Trying not to zone out here and there, which you find yourself doing a lot of, since arriving in heaven. The frequency of heaven is so different than what you remember of earth, as faint as that's starting to feel.

This was a much rawer, confusing process than people made it out to be in the movies. There was no beautiful transition, no peaceful acceptance. Just agony, a lot of it. And even more confusion.

If you hadn't had your teacher Jongin with you, you know you'd be having an even worse time. So you're thankful for that, at least. But you know any which way, if there's a way to return to earth, you're going to find it. And attempt it. You just hope Jongin isn't given the blame for your own actions, if that fateful day ever does arrive, knowledge-giver or not.

His eyes haven't left your features since he started explaining, as if gauging your reaction. "If you did find a way to return to earth, though we have no idea what the consequences of that action would be for earth, time, your human life and your existence itself, I can guarantee that it wouldn't go unnoticed by heaven."

Somehow you already knew that to be the case. You nod and thank him for all he's told you today, excusing yourself as you make your way to the door to exit the room. But just as you're doing so, you murmur, mostly to yourself, the sadness in your voice penetrating your own eardrums, "I still had so much left to do."

"I know."

"I had so many more plans," you find yourself continuing, forlornly. It's been so difficult to get these words out, to voice how unfair all of this actually feels. If you're sure of anything, you're sure you intended to tough out the human mission. Live as long as you could naturally. That had there been the option to opt out of 'accidental deaths', you'd have done so. You have no way of retracing your steps, but if pre-human you had've agreed to that, you'd love to have a word with them, ask them what the - and pardon your usage of this term - hell was wrong with them...

...What was wrong with you.

Do the angelic beings just sit conceptualizing lives they could live if given the option like these very lives are an endless array of video games options, or an episode of some ongoing sitcom show? Signing up for horrific ends of lives just like that, as if they won't be the ones feeling that very death take place, with none of their prior memories in tact? Just what kind of meta-masochism is that? God, the questions you actually had, they were unending. You didn’t even know where to begin with verbalizing them all.

"I know," Jongin repeats, quieter. By this point he's caught up with you, and passes by gently. "E-excuse me," he says, as he reaches for the door handle.

But you stay still, eyebrows furrowed.

You'd been reading this wrong, hadn't you? Your prior encounters and conversations with your teacher seem to flit by in chronological order in your mind, highlighting all the things you seemed to miss, in the emotional sphere of things. No, none of it was lack of emotion. All of it was emotion, so much emotion, that it became that seeming lack of emotion. Like an emotional shutdown, a timed and practised one. Only here, in this proximity, do you notice it falter.

"Jongin?" You start. "...Teacher?"

His next breath is shaky, it falters. You don't even need words here, he's on your wavelength, he seemingly already knows what it is you're about to get at. "We have bonds too," the words don't exactly falter, but the way he fumbles with clasping and unclasping own hands as if he's trying to calm himself down, tell you his true emotional state. "You... remind me of someone, that's all."

You look at his dark brown hair, notice how he won't meet your gaze, how he swallows as if this will convince himself of the words he's saying.

"I think recognise you from somewhere," you push.

His exhale eludes him. His entire being seems to wash with dread, and somehow you know you've hit the nail on the head. "Maybe the artwork," he offers. The artwork of angels in the human realm, you suppose he's referencing here, however, short and sweet answers aren't like him, at least as you've come to know. And no, you haven't been here long, but when it feels like there's not a lot else to do, learning about others and trying to understand them apparently ranks high on your list of priorities.

"No, I mean. ...I've seen you somewhere," you insist. "You, teacher Jongin. As you are. I don't mean an artwork I witnessed in my human life. I recognize you." Gently you reach over and place your hand atop his and watch as he winces and snatches his hand back. But not before you feel the chorus of: 'I caused this, I'm to blame for what happened to you. I caused this, I'm to blame for what happened to you. I caused this, I'm to blame for what happened to you. I caused this, I caused this, I caused this' emanating off his very being.

Startled is an understatement, as you wince, also flinching to the same severity Jongin just hand.

His wince follows. His sole desire to encounter his human face to face, to wish for it so strongly, surely that caused this in its entirety. Rather than offer any explanation, which you're half heartedly expecting at this point, Jongin flits out of the room, leaving you bewildered and in even more confusion than prior.

Some days pass until your next encounter. You're swaying on a swing set located in the heavenly gardens, that seems like it overlooks earth and the cosmos itself, it's a fascinating sight, one you could stare at and try decode all day. You don't really have the time for that right now, your schedule is surprisingly packed and has been since you arrived here, but you do have a small amount of free time allocated during your days. Mostly you spend them exploring the mass that is heaven, the endless, ethereally beautiful mass. And today, you’re entirely taken by this.

Your eyes keep flitting a little to the left every time your swing reaches high up into the air, landing directly on an array of looking glasses, snow-like globes, that seem to contain the image of a different person's life, human after human, situation after situation, in real time, and you find yourself longing even harder to be back on the earthly plane, which surprises you, considering you're encountering a view like nothing you've ever seen before. Something so outside of the human scope of understanding, something so fascinating, that everything else on earth genuinely seems to pale in comparison.

Though what you're looking at is that, everything on earth. In real time. Seemingly every person that's ever been, is, or will be, reflected all at once, on their individual snow globes. Some are playing in the park with their dogs, others are trying their best not to flunk their upcoming exams, some are in the midst of a job interview they've lost sleep over, others are deep in meditation, but all, ultimately, even those that would argue within an inch of their life that they knew otherwise, are completely unaware of the sheer scope of transcendence and timelessness that exists outside the human lifespan. The human existence. All are equally unaware of just how deeply special and fascinating their little stretch of life and existence actually is. Most take for granted the beauty of the earth, too.

You're not trying to evade blame in any of those facets, because you were the exact same and now you'd do anything to return.

Oddly it's only when your eyes fall onto a young woman, much like you were, unzipping and picking up her violin do your hands shake and the enormity of emotion you're experiencing as you view all of this hit you, all at once.

You hadn't known he was there initially, he has a very quiet way of appearing alongside any of the inhabitants of heaven, but as soon as you notice his presence, Jongin is no longer looking at you. Things had been a little uncomfortably quiet between you two since the conversation in the classroom, but Jongin was nothing if not the perfect teacher, mentor, guider... and angelic being. He didn't hold grudges towards anyone he encountered, didn't push anyone to explain them self or force anyone to talk about things they weren't ready for.

He certainly didn't outwardly showcase how shaken that conversation likely left him, truly, he treated you as normally as he could. Taught you as normally as he could. Guided you as normally as he could.

But it had cast a shadow of something over your dynamic that neither of you were reaching to iron out and discuss, at least not yet. Still, you find yourself discussing anything and everything around him. Asking questions you probably shouldn't be asking, yet still find yourself asking.

Usually he had the perfect answer. But you had a knack for choosing the instances he didn't.

"Did I ask for that?" You start, as he places himself beside you. "Would I have really asked for that?"

Jongin says nothing, this time, which you're half expecting. He knows the answer to all these questions, you feel, there's just something else he's not telling you. Sometimes that's intentional, some things are your own to figure out, you're well aware of that. But this seems like it is something he can't seem to tell you. And by answering these questions you randomly throw his way, sometimes, it appears like that in itself would be the key to the exact piece of knowledge he can't diverge.

"I see it over and over," you continue. Both of you know what you're referencing. The change, the transition, as heaven would like for you to call it. The awful experience with death is all you can remember it as. "Then I see sand, then I choke on the sand, then I'm here. And it's blindingly white before it's beautifully iridescent, lukewarm and sterile, but the sterility has not left nor shifted into its true beauty and at this point I'm wondering if it ever will."

Sterile's a good descriptor, Jongin thinks, as he listens to you intently. Beautiful, monotonous living, gift wrapped in a scope of color the human eye couldn't even process, let alone keep up with. Jongin, he's never known any different, but you have. Of course you'd want to go back. Especially when you both knew you had unfinished business.

No, not business. An unfinished life. A life curt short.

"They're a lot more free than here, huh?"

"In all the ways you could and could not imagine. But we don't hurt in the same way, we have knowledge of the infinite. Our pain can't create worlds in the same way and our love, I'd argue it can't be measured in the same scale, at least as I've observed." If it could, wouldn't you be safe right now? Securely sleeping in your cozy, warm bed after the most meaningful night of your life?

"I don't believe that."

"Well, I couldn't help," Jongin finally chokes out, "I mean--"

Something akin to understanding clicks in your expression and Jongin regrets his words. There were languages without sound, truly, weren't there? "Jongin--" You reach out to grab him, but he's already on his way.

"Have a rejuvenating rest," he says curtly. "It's a busy day tomorrow. "

It's a day or two later, during your free time, as you travel down another unexplored corner of heaven, hoping to learn all you can about your new place of residence. You glance to the unending hall titled 'Music', and find yourself flitting towards it as fast as you can, eyes scanning and cascading down every section, barely withholding your gasp. For a minute, there's nowhere else, the individual souls you've known are but a second, passing thought as you drink in everything before you, the endless beauty of all things music. What it was, is and could be in every realm of possibility, in every realm of existence. Songs and scores that humanity hadn't even considered being possible, instruments that made the beauty of the violin - your most prized and beloved instrument - pale.

Today marks your first true smile, on this strange, heavenly plane, your first day of true happiness and contentment. And from today, you're sure it won't be your last.

You tiptoe back to the heavenly gardens you find yourself viewing in an entirely new color. The heavenly gardens whose beauty you haven't given yourself chance to truly witness. It strikes you that today is the first day you've been anchored in the present moment, noticing the happenings around you, instead of existing in your own heavenly little bubble. There's a line of newly turned - slash - recruited angels a few footfalls away from you, congregating together as they take a class you don't really remember taking yourself but surely must have, and there in all his glory, stands your mentor, in his flowing pink robes, with his truly unmistakable aura.

As floaty as it is - and it is, every angelic being seems to be - his presence is unlike any of the other angels you've met, it's more stable, somehow less floaty in comparison.

Jongin pats the space beside him as he instructs the new angels to sit beside him. They do so happily, all smiles and grace... and peace. Something tells you none of them were traumatic deaths, so likely no murders or accidents. Likely terminal patients who'd long since accepted the end of their lives, already lived out the grief and denial stages. Were actually looking forward to what came next.

Not one inch of you relates, and maybe that's for the best. Because you wouldn't have wanted to face the severity of their struggles on the earthly plane, either. There was no game of comparisons, at the heart of it. Those that ended up in heaven, ended up in heaven. That was the one truth. Regardless of how that came to be.

You were here now, and so were they. You actually wanted the best for them, and hoped they settled in as easily as they could have done, and as happily. You hoped that contentment and happiness followed them for all of their days.

"Guardian Angel, Jongin," is what breaks you out of your reverie, a statement that is intended as both an introduction and a greeting to the new angels.

But one that leaves you feeling cold, numb, and confused. Not mentor angel, Jongin or teacher angel, Jongin as he'd referred to himself with you on numerous occasions, but Guardian Angel, Jongin. For some reason the name rings loud and clear, it almost deafens you. A warmth floods through you, it's not necessarily anger, but it's not wholly understanding either.

You’ve waited a few days to approach your 'mentor' slash 'teacher'. Cutting straight to the chase, though it seems he’s half expecting you. Maybe this should stop you in your tracks to assess the situation, but it doesn’t. "When were you going to tell me?"

The ice water is colder than he anticipated, and Jongin had spent every moment since you arrived anticipating this exact encounter. How could he have been so stupid as to instruct a class during your break, knowing you frequented the heavenly gardens so?

"...That you knew me all this time?" You don't miss a beat. "That you were my Guardian Angel?"

He glances the other way, but you're closing in on him. He half fears an altercation, but heaven had never seen the likes of that between its own inhabitants. Slim chance as it was, you did not look happy. His heart pangs in pain, but also in understanding. Had he prolonged your confusion and anguish during your transition by not letting you know his truest position in heaven? Suddenly, his grief and anger at himself hits him tenfold, and he wants to re-imprison himself in his room of holding. Things weren't bad enough already, were they? Now he'd only gone and added to your pain and suffering when he could've been helping you adjust and heal properly through the bond you naturally shared.

He felt like the worst Guardian Angel that had ever existed. His next sentence seeming to only cement this fact in his own mind. "I slept through the car crash." He shakes his head. "...Rather was positioned somewhere where I couldn't correct this, but that is the same as sleeping through it considering my connection to you, and how close I have been to you all of your life, considering how well I know you. What I am to you. There is no justification of that, there is no logical way of explaining it, there is no redemption for that, Y/N. I failed you. At present, do I even deserve the title Guardian Angel? I should've been stripped of my position the second this took place."

It’s as if this opens the floodgates of all that is yet to be said, explained, or experienced. You can feel the tears cascading down your cheeks, you can feel yourself edge closer to the beautiful, angelic being before you and you can feel yourself wrap yourself in his embrace and sob until there are no tears left, and knowing you can't get a coherent word out here, you listen as well as you can. To all he has to say. The pain, and slight anger you'd been feeling dissipating, though he feels his words should evoke the exact opposite reaction. The guilt and suffering within him feels like it could tear apart worlds, and yet he sees himself as being unworthy of his position. It's easier to pinpoint all the ways he assisted you and helped you during your earthly life, especially in his embrace, adding in all the ways he's helped you here in heaven, and yet he dismays of himself so much, when he's the shining example of what heaven wants their angels to be, and especially their Guardian Angels, that’s as much as you can gather, if any of your classes are to go by.

"A foreboding sense like that can't be ignored, and there's no doubt that I would've fallen if it meant saving you, maybe someone knew that somewhere, and thus... I ended up in that room of imprisonment. You have every right to hate and despise me to your heart's content, but you think I wasn't mad too? At the feebleness of the human form, how easily that beautiful life can be taken away, like it never even existed in the first place? But that anger never settles on you, it is always directed at myself. I was chosen to guide you, to protect and defend you and I failed in the moment you needed me the most. I should've found my way out, I should've stopped that day's events taking place. You should be alive right now, and we should've met many, many, many years from now. I should've held onto patience, waited for you to come to heaven in your own time, yet I fear my unending desire to meet you face to face, to know you face to face, resulted in that day's events, somehow. Regardless of what anyone else can say on the contrary. I love you, Y/N, in all the ways a Guardian Angel should. I adore everything you are and everything that makes you, you. I have been so blessed to know you, to have been assigned to you. I have such endless love and pride for you and everyday it kills me in how much I failed my one true purpose, as a Guardian Angel. Truthfully I care not if I lose everything after today, but I haven't been doing nothing in the time since you arrived. I have been studying like crazy. Reading documents that even I am not allowed to chance upon. Or shouldn't. I may lose everything, and I know you won't remember any of this after a few weeks back on the ground but... at the end of your days, your natural days, I do hope we will meet again. And be face to face once more. Until then, it has been the loveliest thing in existence to know you, like this. The most prideful and honorable thing to be your Guardian Angel. Please remember me, somewhere within. And know I am always on your side. I am always with you. Though I know not will happen to me after today, for you, it's worth it. You will always be worth it."

"Guardian Angel Jongin...?"

"Our past few weeks have have barely counted down there, on earth. It’ll be hours, tops. Truthfully, regardless of what it takes from me, I will alter that day's events. Though I wanted to meet you face to face so, so, so much. I didn't mean like this. It shouldn't have happened like this. Not like this. Never like this."

Before you can blink, or even realize just how closed in you’re suddenly feeling, how the sense of your surroundings seems to have blurred since you entered this strange room you just, for some reason, seemed to assume was his classroom, but blatantly isn’t upon second glance, he places his hand atop yours as a shrill, ear splitting sound enters the room and elicits an even shriller gasp from you whilst a blinding off-white light envelopes you within and twirls and twirls, and keeps twirling, until all you knew of heaven and your Guardian Angel Jongin fades, and fades, and keeps fading...

Awaking with a start, the familiar Parisian trees come into your line of vision. You glance around you and notice your manager, and driver bopping along as normal to the radio, as the car pulls up to your destination, exactly on time, as safely as ever. You blink once, then several times more, wondering where your head-splitting headache came from and why you suddenly feel so nauseous and out of place. "I had the strangest dream," you finally settle on, directing this towards your manager who's hardly paying any attention to you at this moment in time. Still, you continue, "I think I met my guardian angel."

Your manager guffaws, rolling his eyes. "Guardian angel? Y/N, there's no such thing!"

As you glance back at the trunk of the car, the droplets of light rain trickling down the window, you wipe the lone tear that also trickles down your cheek away. "Thank you," you whisper, not knowing if this will be your only chance to tell him that, if these memories are to leave you soon and though you swear you must've been back on earth barely two minutes, it already feels like they are leaving you. But you know in your heart, that you will meet him again, someday. Thank him, someday. For all he did for you, today.

For a moment, you see Guardian Angel Jongin's outline in the empty seat to the right of you, along with his faint, but unmistakable pink glow. You feel the warm, comforting energy you've felt around you so often, during good and bad days, and anything in between, and finally understand that this being really has been watching out for you as long as you can remember, that he has been with you through everything, and hopefully will continue to be, regardless of the possible severity of his last actions.

Maybe it was nothing but a test for him, a screening for him to understand the worst possible scenario a human and their Guardian Angel can go through together, for him to truly cement and prove the fact that he truly was as devoted to you as his position expected him to be, and in doing so, you suppose he passed with flying colors, or he lost everything he was... but it was your life, and now you intend to live it. To the fullest you can.

For everything you've got left to do, to be.

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jongbross · 6 months

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kinktober: thigh riding (kim jongin x reader)

pairing: kim jongin x reader word count: 417 genre: take a guess warnings: description of sexual activities, thigh riding, swearing, jongin being a menace to society a/n: i feel dirty (this ain't a complaint)

jongin moaned as he felt the first stroke of your hips against his bare thigh. he instinctively held your waist, pushing you down further and harder enough so he could feel how soaking wet you were through your panties.

"fuck...", you moaned, throwing your head back. it felt great, but that wasn't enough.

you put yourself up a little bit, just so you could push your panties aside, and then lowered yourself against his thigh again - the feeling of skin to skin feeling so, so much better.

"come on, baby", you heard jongin half groan, half whisper to you, when you didn't move. his hands were on your waist again, and he pushed you back and forth.

the sound both of you made was sinful.

you suddenly grabbed his shoulders for support, fingers tangling on his blue navy shirt. jongin looked at you and smirked at the sight: closed eyes, lips parted, neck shining covered with a thin layer of sweat. your hips didn't stop stroking his thigh since he set it off the action, and for the expression on your face, he knew you were feeling good.

the only sounds to be heard were your moans, jongin's heavy sighs, and the slippery noise of your wetness spreading on him, making it easier to slide back and forth on his now tensed up muscle. the friction felt so good, the way his hands held your waist for dear life felt so good.

he felt so good.

being your lover for such a long time now, jongin knew you; so it was easy for him to see that you were reaching your orgasm when your tug on his shirt got tighter and your movements sloppier.

"don't stop", jongin whispered, hands now taking control of your actions as you clearly couldn't think straight anymore. "keep going. that's it."

you moaned loudly when you felt your body tensing up. you buried your face on the crook of his neck, his amazing cologne mixed with the natural scent of his skin doing nothing to help you hold back your climax.

"let go, baby. cum for me."

"jongin..."

and with that, you came all over his thigh, his tanned skin covered in you.

jongin smiled, despite the growing pain he felt inside his underwear. he felt your body relax against his chest, breathing pace as messed up as your hair and clothes.

"mind helping me out too?", jongin asked you, just before you felt him guiding your hand to inside his boxers.

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eomayas · 10 months

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confessions • kji (pt.2)

pairing: jongin x f!reader, fwb2l. sequel to ‘d appointment’.

genre: fluff & angst

synopsis: jealousy leads to a life changing confession (happy ending!!)

warnings: angst, swearing, jealousy

a/n: lol nobody asked for this but i really wanted to write this after yesterday! so enjoy 😋

“jongin, i really gotta go,” you giggle, kissing him again. he holds onto your waist tighter, grumbling about how he doesn’t want you to go. “really, nini, i have to leave.” you say, pulling out of his grasp and finding your clothes around his room.

you’ve seen a lot more of him recently, and your relationship has changed. he started asking you over to hang out, taking you out for food, running errands with you. you didn’t know what to think of your relationship anymore, and could barely tell your friends because none of them liked to hear about jongin anyway. he had a bit of a reputation for being a womanizer and a player, but you didn’t get that with him. as far as you knew, you were the only person who’s been in his bed for the last two months.

you really dont know what to call your relationship—you never talk about it with him. you refer to him as a friend when people ask about him, but nothing more. but you know that youre deeper than friends, you pretend not to see it in his eyes when you’re lying on his chest at night, pretend not to feel it in your stomach when he leans over his middle console and kisses you when he picks you up from your house. you pretend none of those feelings exist, so you can keep your peace.

“where do you have to go anyway?” he asks as you hook your bra back on.

“uh, just meeting a friend,” you say, not ready to admit the truth that the friend is a man and he’s not really a friend. your friend sana set you up with a guy she knows, doyoung, and you’ve been hanging out for awhile. of course, in between you and jongins time together.

jongin frowns at you and your hesitation. “who?” he presses as you pull on your shirt. you let out a breath and fix your hair, stalling as you avoid his question.

“chaewon,” you lie, not really sure why. you’re not dating, it shouldn’t be a problem. but with the way you’ve been hanging out recently, it feels like it could cause a rift—maybe you’re imagining it, though, and he doesn’t actually care. maybe your feelings are one sided.

“what are you guys gonna do?” he asks. you shrug and grab your phone off of his nightstand, a text from doyoung on the screen.

doyoung: can’t wait to see you!

you bite back a smile and jongin notices, his chest bubbling with an emotion he can’t quite place. anger? no, not quite. envy? jealously, maybe? can’t be—you’re not his. but it sure does feel like it sometimes.

you tap back a response, your acrylics accentuating your every keyboard stroke.

y/n: see you soon :)

“alright, i’ll see you later?” you say, leaning over to kiss him. it’s stiff, and awkward, but neither of you say anything. he doesn’t offer to walk you out like he always does, and you pretend it doesn’t bother you.

jongin and you don’t talk for three days, and in those three days, you occupy yourself with doyoung when you’re not at work or with your friends. doyoung is kind, he’s sweet and makes you laugh. he listens. he’s perfectly safe—your friends like him, and they’re all going to meet him tonight at a get together.

you sigh as you look at your phone, your message going unanswered. you invited jongin too, just to be nice since a few of his friends are going to be there. you haven’t spent anytime around each others friends, though you know a couple because that’s how you met each other.

sana nudges you. “doyoung is here,” you flip your phone over as her eyes gaze down for a split second. you look up and see him walk through the door, two of his friends behind him. you stand up from your spot on the couch and walk over to him, adjusting your skirt. doyoungs eyes scan the room and when they land on you, he gives you the smile that you’ve grown fond of.

“hey!” you say, giving him a hug. you press a quick kiss on his cheek and pull back, his hand sliding to the small of your back.

“hey! i hope you don’t mind thst i brought some friends—this is baejin and that’s sungwoon,” he says, introducing you to his friends. you smile and shake their hands. “is sana here?” he asks, leaning close to you. you nod, and get the overwhelming feeling that he’s about to kiss you, so you quickly grab his arm and lead him over to your group of friends.

sana jumps up when she sees him and gives him a hug, your three friends, yujin, chaewon, and bona following suit.

the five of you settle on the couch, doyoung on the end and you sandwiched between him and sana. he keeps an arm wrapped around your waist the entire time, barely moving it even when you shift. you don’t mind his touch or the weight of his arm—it feels nice.

you let yourself sneak a glance at your phone, hoping to see if he responded—a ‘no’ would even be fine—but there’s nothing new. you set your phone face down in your lap, and catch sanas eye when you look back up. you furrow your brow at her and she shakes her head. you ignore her and lean back against doyoung, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulder. you catch his dangling hand in yours, and interlock your fingers.

“you two are so cute, it’s making me sick,” yujin says. you and doyoung only giggle, and when you glance at sana, she’s side eyeing you behind her red solo cup.

sanas eyes drift around the room, but you ignore her until she steps on your foot, not enough to hurt but enough to get your attention. you glance at her again, and she shoots her eyes to the door, and dread immediately fills your stomach.

jongin walks through the door, many people in the party immediately greeting him. you check your phone again and see that he still never responded, which annoys you. if you had a heads up that he was showing up, you would have never sat here cuddled up with doyoung.

you try to ignore the greetings to jongin, but they’re obnoxious and louder than the music playing. “ugh, sehun is so irritating,” chaewon grumbles, but she keeps her eyes on the tall boy talking to jongin. they have some weird tension going on.

“y/n, im gonna go find baejin really quick, do you want to come?” doyoung asks. you shake your head and tell him that you’ll be here, and he leaves but not before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you smile, but it falters when sana scoffs. “what?” you ask, annoyed with how she’s been treating you tonight.

“don’t lead him on, please. i know you invited jongin, and maybe you want two boyfriends, but doyoung is a good guy. leave him out of it,” she says, her voice serious.

you drop your mouth open to reply, but can’t find the words. “your boyfriends coming over,” she mutter, taking another swig of her drink. you glance over to see jongin walking towards you.

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you manage, standing up to greet him. you reach in for a hug, and he reciprocates, his hands too low on your back for it to be friendly. “i didn’t know you were coming.” you say, pulling away from him.

jongin keeps his hands on you, ignoring the gawking from your friends. “i said i might,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “why, you wanted more time to hide your little boyfriend?” he asks. with that, you scoff and pull away from him, already done with the entire night.

“i don’t have a boyfriend, so both of you can stop,” you say to jongin and sana, crossing your arms over your chest. “if you came here to bother me, you can just leave.” you say, staring up at him.

“i came to keep you company, but i see you already have some,” he says, mirroring your stance. you get ready to reply, but see doyoung coming up behind the two of you with baejin in tow, and get a wave of guilt, dread, and anxiety at the prospect of the two of them interacting. this can’t be my life, you think.

doyoung approaches you, a smile on his face until he sees your stance, and then sweeps his eyes over to jongin. doyoungs face falls at the obvious tension, and jongin sizes him up. “are you alright?” he asks you, a hand on your arm. you nod and he looks over at jongin and back at you. “do you two know each other?” he asks.

know is putting it lightly.

before you can respond, jongin interjects. “i’m jongin,” he holds his hand out to shake, and it takes everything in you to not push his hand away.

doyoung shakes his hand, his face not giving way to how he really feels. “we’re friends,” you offer once they drop hands. friends is putting it lightly, too lightly that it’s almost untrue.

jongin scoffs at that. “if that’s what you want to call it, sure we are,” you glare at him and doyoung shifts awkwardly beside you, unsure of what to say. “surely she’s mentioned me. because she’s never mentioned you.” he adds, making you blood boil.

“jongin, stop!” you say, your eyes widening. you look back over at doyoung who nods his head once, twice. “doyoung, just ignore him, please?” you say, reaching out to grab his hand, but he pulls away. you feel helpless as he moves past you to talk to sana, and you hear him tell her that he’s gonna head out. you feel like shit as you try to get him to talk to you, but again he dodges you.

“y/n, i dont want to be apart of this. maybe when you figure… whatever this is out, you can call me. but i don’t want any of this,” he waves vaguely between you and jongin, and all you can do is stand there pathetically as he walks away.

“yeah, what he said,” jongin says, shaking his head, and all you see is red. how dare he try to blow you off, when he is the cause of this entire mess. if he just kept his mouth shut, doyoung would still be here and you’d be enjoying your night.

you stomp after jongin as he walks off, grabbing ahold of his shirt, pulling him towards the direction of the kitchen. “quit it,” he says, pulling out of your grasp.

“you don’t get to leave! what the hell is your problem?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips. a few people in the kitchen glance at you and jongin, and he sighs and pulls you out to the backyard where it’s empty. “what is wrong with you?”

“i didnt do anything,” he says and you bark out a laugh.

“you don’t talk to me for days for god knows why, you don’t respond to my text, and the. you basically show up unannounced? and then you ruin a good thing for me? what is wrong with you?” you could cry from frustration, but you don’t. you manage to keep the tears at bay as you stare at the man across from you.

jongin doesn’t say anything, just leans against the stair railing with his arms crossed over his chest, and looks away from you. you blink at him, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t. “well?” you say, scoffing.

he shakes his head. “you just don’t get it,” he mumbles.

“what?”

“you really don’t see it, y/n? it’s not obvious?” he asks, finally looking you in the eye. you shrink under his gaze, your eyes darting around the backyard.

“what are you talking about, jongin?” you ask, confusion evident in your voice. he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly and drops his hands at his sides. you cross your arms over your abdomen and stare at him, waiting for him to just admit whatever he’s holding back.

“you don’t feel a change between us? really?” he asks, and for a second the air leaves your lungs. he can’t be asking you this, because then what you’ve been imagining is actually true, therefore real. and now you have to confront it.

“i guess,” you say vaguely, your voice small. he runs his hands through his hair like he always does when he’s stressed or anxious—one thing you picked up on after seeing him more often. “what are you trying to say, jongin?” you sigh, just wanting to hear the words coming from his mouth. you need that confession, or else you think you’ll go crazy if you lose two men you like on the same night.

“i’m trying to say that i can’t stop thinking about you, that i think about you every second you’re not with me. that when i have to go somewhere, i call you because i’d rather go—i don’t fucking know, to the store—with you, over anybody else. and i came here tonight, even though i know your friends don’t fucking like me, because i wanted to see you. and i know you’re upset that i made your little boyfriend leave, but i don’t really care, okay? i can’t stand to see you with somebody else, not when you kiss me the way you do, or say my name,” he rambles, wiping his mouth before starting up again. you can only stare at him, stunned. you’ve gotten more than you were really asking for, and he’s not even done. “and i dont only mean when we have sex, okay? i know that’s how we started, but if you couldn’t tell, i don’t only want to do that with you. i want something more with you. if you don’t, fine. but i won’t buy it, because you chased after me, and not him.” jongin catches his breath, shocked that he just blurted all of this out. it’s been buried deep in his brain, his heart, for awhile now. he hasn’t been able to get you out of his head for weeks, and gets giddy when he sees your name pop up on his phone. he’s been silently losing his mind about you, and you haven’t even noticed.

“why didn’t you say anything before?” you ask pathetically, walking over to him.

he lets out a laugh that almost sounds like a cry. “because if you didn’t feel the same way, and we stopped hanging out, i would seriously die,” he says, grabbing your hands. you smile at his words. “i’m going crazy here, y/n.” jongin sighs, looking down at you and bringing your conjoined hands up to his chest.

you faintly feel his fast heartbeat and nearly coo. he’s so endearing, and the way he’s looking at you with his big, brown eyes is enough to bring you to your knees. “jongin, i-“ you cut yourself off to laugh, the next words leaving your mouth about to be so embarrassing. “i really like you, and i don’t know how you couldn’t tell. i mean, every time you said anything, i giggled like a schoolgirl.” you say, pressing your knuckles into his sternum.

“i thought you just wanted to fuck.”

“well, yes,” you blush, looking up at him. “but i really fucking liked—like—you,” you say, letting out a breath.

“are we doing this? i mean, for real?” he asks, dropping your interlocked hands out to the sides. you shrug.

“we could try,” you say, and he smiles, his face lighting up in a way that makes your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip.

and you two really were going to try, the opinions of your friends be damned. if there was a general consensus, it’s that you’d both go insane for the others love, and that’s enough.

#exo #exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo kai #kai x reader #kim kai #kai x you #jongin x reader #jongin x you #kai fluff #jongin fluff #jongin angst #kai angst #jongin fanfic #jongin imagine

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marshmallow-phd · 25 days

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A Manor of Shadow and Blood

Genre: Regency Gothic AU

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Part: 1 I 2

The fever took over almost as soon as you left the bathroom. Your feet had become heavier, like lead refusing to be moved. Your vision went black before you made it to the bed. Consciousness came and went, images you weren't sure were real or not blurred your vision. A man wiped your forehead with a cloth. Another fed you salty broth. Two more held you upright as someone changed the sweat-soaked pillowcase. The last image you remember was the lingering presence of someone near the doorway. All you could register was his short black hair and white tunic. He turned from the bed and walked out of the room as you fell back asleep.

*****

A long groan rumbled your throat as your eyes blinked open. The fever that had consumed your body was gone. Your rough tongue scraped the roof of a mouth desperate for moisture. Every limb was sore from not being used. A small pain still pushed at your head, but it was bearable. Only a small measure of light broke the edges of the curtain. It was either barely dawn or the very end of twilight.

"It would seem you're past the worst of it."

You gasped at the unexpected voice. Junmyeon emerged from the shadows and stood at the edge of the bed. He tilted his head, the upper half of his face still cloaked in the darkness.

"I was sick," you stated to no one in particular. Perhaps in mere confirmation for yourself.

Junmyeon nodded. "You had a fever for two days".

"Two days!" you gasped. You were supposed to arrive to your aunt today. If you didn't show–

An echoing thud interrupted your thoughts. You sat up slowly, groaning at the protest of your arms and torso. Junmyeon kicked the familiar chest on the floor again. Excitement pushed away all remaining consequences of the fever. It was your trunk with all your things. Soon, you could be on your way again, with a harrowing tale for your worried relative.

"We found it this morning," he explained. "Along with the driver."

Your heart leapt. "He's–"

"Dead. Probably broke his neck from the fall." His voice was void of empathy. Death–at least the kind not directly in contact with himself–did not affect him. "The carriage isn't salvageable. and the roads are still practically swamps.”

Each breath you took in came faster and faster, more shallow than the last. How could the roads still be unfit for travel? The room began to tilt. "So, what does that mean for me?" Perhaps you would have to wait for a replacement carriage or for your aunt to come get you herself.

He looked to the door with a resigned expression. "You will stay here until we deem fit."

"What!" You scrambled out of the bed. Your knees buckled as soon you feet touched the rug. Going so long without proper nutrition and being sick with fever left you weak. Junmyan caught before you could be injured, sweeping you up into his arms. A mild shiver chattered your teeth. Through your thin nightgown you could feel the icy chill of his fingers. How one's skin could be the temperature of snow, you didn't know.

He laid you back down on the bed with a rather smug expression. "Traveling isn't in your best interest. You need to regain your strength."

You swallowed thickly. "And after that?"

The only answer you received was a smile.

"You can't keep me here!"

"Eat," he ordered, gesturing to the small table in the corner. A silver tray with fresh morsels sat and waited to be consumed. "You're free to roam the manor as you choose, but remember: there is nothing for miles, not even an inn. You'll meet a hungry wolf before coming across another human." He bowed as if he were a gentleman and left you alone to accept your circumstances.

*****

A small amount of strength returned to you after eating. Although fasting in protest could have been effective, you pathetically couldn't resist. Food had always been a favorite weakness of yours.

The next form of protest you tried was keeping to your room. But after a few hours of not a footstep outside, you concluded self-confinement was only useful if someone noticed.

From your trunk you pulled one of the more plain dresses that had been packed for you. It wasn't too difficult to dress yourself. The true trouble came for your hair. Despite being in bed for several days, no knots caused you pain. That, however, was the extent of your talent. Charlotte, your maid, had been the one to curl and pin your hair in the latest fashions. The best you could do was tie it back with a plain blue ribbon. Squaring your shoulders, you yanked the door open with force and shelled out of the room.

Up and down the different halls, you tried to make sense of the layout. This manor expanded in nearly every direction. You went upstairs and down again, unsure of where you were. The bit of light that managed to fight past the thick curtains that hung in front of every window grew in strength. But though the day grew older, you saw none of the residents. No sound alerted you to any being close. It gave you an eerie feeling. It was as if you were alone but an ever lingering presence haunted every corner.

You took another random left turn. And stopped.

The front door was just on the other side of this hall. You scanned the area around you. Your ears strained to hear anyone that could possibly be near. Not even a bird sang outside. You took a step. Then another. And another. One at a time, you paused between each step, waiting for one of the lords to suddenly appear and drag you back to your room.

Huh. Your room. As if your stay here would be forever permanent. You prayed that they would soon grow bored of you and send you on your way. All this could be was a terrible joke because they had no other way to occupy their time.

You'd reached the door. Possible freedom lied on the other side. Yet, your fingers hovered above the handle. Junmyeon's warning waded through your mind like a morning fog. Nothing for miles. Surely if that was true, the driver would have stopped rather than continue on in the storm.

And then there were the wolves. You knew of their existence. And how a human could be just as satisfactory as elk if they thought they could overpower whoever they came across. To them, you would certainly make easy prey.

"Doors only move when one opens them."

With a shrill gasp, you whirled around and pressed your back against the door. The one who drew your bath last night–Jongdae–was leaning against the entrance to the side parlor. He stared at you with a bored expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Where did you come from?" you demanded. You had looked in the parlor as you passed. No one was in there.

He waved an uncaring hand in the air. "Around. I heard you walking and when it stopped, I came to see why.”

"You heard me walking?" You'd put slippers on before leaving the room since your boots were still caked with mud. You could hardly hear your own steps against the wood boards.

Jongdae merely raised an eyebrow, refusing to explain. You huffed. The previous fright in you disappeared. Pushing off of the door, you shuffle past him and into the parlor. Your feet were beginning to pulse after walking around for hours. You sat in one of the cushioned chairs to give them some relief.

Before you could blink, Jongdae was seated in the chair across from you.

"How did you do that?”

Smug, he leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Would you like a tour?"

"Not if you refuse to answer my questions," you scoffed.

The corners of his lips curled upward. "I think it might be better if you figure it out for yourself. Over time."

That earned another huff. You especially disliked the insinuation that you would be here for a long while. Hope still flickered in you like a warm ember, desperate for fuel.

Jongdae stared at you quizzically. "Why didn’t you run?”

"Because, there isn't anywhere to run to," you answered quietly. You were lucky to make it here in the first place. Regardless if you were imprisoned or not, you were thankful to be alive.

Still eyeing you with that studious share, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. "Is there another reason you don't want to leave?"

You swallowed thickly. It was impossible for him to read your thoughts. He couldn't possibly know that something else held you back. "It's safe here–”

"We both know this place isn't safe for you," he snapped. "Your instinct should be to run as far as you can.”

"B-but the wolves..." your voice trailed off, overshadowed by the thumping of your heart.

"The wolves are nothing compared to here." He stood and all seriousness melted away as he stretched his limbs. "Or maybe they aren't. Perhaps that simply depends on you." You flinched as he reached for you. He didn't pause and his fingers passed your face, instead pulling at the ribbon in your hair until it came loose and dropped the fabric in your lap. "I wouldn't wear your hair like that.

You frowned at him. The men here weren't exactly the epitome of current style. "Why?"

“Keep pulling it back like that and you'll have your answer." He dared to wink at you before strolling from the parlor.

It took a little while to find your room again. Part of you wondered if you should have accepted Jongdae's offer of a tour. Another part stubbornly insisted you would find your own way eventually.

Sitting down at the small table, you pulled the curtain back. Your room was on the second floor, which gave you a decent view of the grounds.

Unlike most of the forest you remember seeing, this area was void of life. The trees were bare, their branches rigid and spindly. No birds or other woodland creatures scurried about. There was plenty of grass and garden hedges, but somehow all of the beauty was sapped from their blades and leaves. A few stone benches and structures were scattered about the estate, but whatever stunning carvings they used to present had been worn away. A sadness had overtaken this land, infected its very core. Not even the sunlight–now making its way to the other horizon–felt warm. How could anyone live amongst this?

All your strength gained through breakfast waned. You didn’t need sleep, per se, but rest wasn’t a terrible idea. Leaning back, you tucked your feet under you and shuffled into the corner of the chair. Your eyes slowly closed–

And snapped open at the soft knock from the door. You scowled at the door. It replied with another knock. With a huff, you stood and crossed the room, pulling the door open with force. "Yes?"

Junmyeon smirked at your hostility. "It's time for dinner."

You looked down, but his hands were empty. No new silver tray in sight.

"Dinner is with us."

Your throat tightened as his words sunk in. With them.

He motioned with his head. "Come."

"I have to change."

His eyes raked you up and down, then he raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Why? Because you always charged for dinner when you weren't dining with only your family. It simply wasn't proper to wear what you were tramping around in all day.

When you neither spoke nor moved, he reached behind you and pulled the door closed, pushing you out of the room and into his chest. He chuckled at the contact. You shoved him away. His amusement didn't waver. "The dining hall is this way."

Understanding that the only way you would eat was by following him, you complied. He led you to one of the familiar staircases, but then down a hallway you didn't recognize. The dining hall sat on the other end. Past the grand entrance was a long, dark red table that ran the length of the room with the ability to seat at least twenty. An old chandelier hung from the ceiling, a few of the precious crystals missing. A roaring fire clicked and cracked on the opposite wall.

"You'll sit here." Junmyeon startled you as he pulled a chair just to the left of the head of the table. All the other available seats were occupied. With your chin held high, you accepted, letting him push the chair in. Then he sat at the head.

There were four chairs on each side of the banquet table, haphazardly spaced, and a lone chair at the other end. To your immediate right was the one named Yixing. He stared at you with narrowed, interested eyes that somehow made his already sharp features lethal. You dropped your gaze instantly, finally noticing the food in front of you. Your eyes lifted... no one else had a meal, only a goblet full of wine.

"Has everyone else eaten?"

"Mm," Junmyeon hummed over the rim of his glass. When the goblet left his mouth, a faint red smear remained behind. He licked his lips slowly to wipe it away. "We don't typically... eat dinner, but thought of it as an opportunity to introduce you.”

A few chuckles echoed around the room, but the joke was lost on you.

"Eat," Junmyeon motioned to your plate. All eyes were trained on you. The silverware clinked and clattered as you picked up the fork and knife. Would the food be poisoned? Did they get some sick enjoyment from this? You cut off a small bite of chicken. Each bite was slow, testing the flavor. It wasn't beautifully seasoned, but you couldn't taste any bitter poison underneath. You swallowed and cut another bite.

Satisfied, Junmyeon motioned to the man on his right. "This is Jongin.”

"You have a pretty name," the man purred. You merely stared at him and continued to eat. He laughed from his chest. "Then Chanyeol." This one bowed in his chair with a flourish of his arm. "Jongdae." He winked. You scowled at him. "Sehun." This one didn't look at you, looking bored as he leaned back lazily in his chair, sipping from his glass. "Kyungsee at the end."

Kyungsoo, who had been staring at the table, his chin resting on folded fingers. He glanced at you but immediately looked away when he met your gaze.

"That one is Minseok," Junmyen went on. The one named Minseok smiled at you with an eerily feline grin. "Baekhyun." He, too, grinned at you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "And next to you, I'm sure you remember, is Yixing."

You didn't look at him again. Putting down the silverware, you gave your attention back to Junmyeon. "When can I leave?"

He scoffed before he could take another sip of wine. "I already told you. Until we deem fit."

"You can't keep me here!"

"Maybe you should have considered that before you came here.”

"You might enjoy it here," Baekhyun hummed.

"I doubt it," you snapped back.

Chanyeol leaned forward onto the table. “Do you have family?"

You swallowed nervously. "Yes."

"You should ask her if she has a lover," Jongdae crooned. When all eyes jerked to him, you carefully slid the knife over to your right hand under the rim of the plate. By luck, you had decided to wear a dress with sleeves. You just needed to conceal the knife until you were back in your room.

"Do you?" Jongin asked of you, a little too interested for your comfort.

You glared daggers at Jongdae. "No, I don't."

His lips curled gleefully. "I don't believe you." He shrugged. "Then again, maybe it's not a lover that you’re trying to avoid."

"My aunt is expecting me."

"And she'll keep expecting you," Junmyeon growled.

A hand flashed out of nowhere, snatching up your wrist and catching the knife before it fell to the floor. "I wouldn't do that," Yixing warned. You tried to yank your wrist back, but he took the opportunity to bring you closer to him.

Junmyeon sighed. "Yixing.”

Revealing who was in charge Yixing released your wrist, but he put the knife in front of him. Small indentations appeared along the blade that weren’t there before. A perfect fit for a hand.

You stood with such force that your chair overturned behind you.

"Finished already?" Jongin teased.

You gave a single hard nod and stormed out of the dining hall. None of them stopped you.

"This is going to be fun," one of them chuckled. A chair scraped hastily against the floor and you hurried faster to your room.

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kpopimaginings · 2 years

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Nini - Kai (Jongin)

A/N: A request from an anon about reader only ever calling him Nini. Hope you enjoy.

"Hey," you called out as you let yourself into your boyfriends apartment.

"Hi," he shouted back.

"What have you been up to today, Nini?" you asked as you sat down next to him on the sofa.

He shrugged. "Not much."

"Are you ok?" you asked, finding his short sentences and lack of affection unusual.

"Why do you never call me by my name?" he said, without making eye contact.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think I've heard you say 'Jongin' since we started dating, it's weird," he explained with a little pout forming on his lips.

"Oh," you said, unsure how to proceed. "It never occurred to me that it was odd. I like using Nini, it just feels softer and more affectionate. Plus, if I'm feeling extra affectionate or you are being extra cute, you're my Nini Gom. I never thought that would upset you."

"I just like how personal it is for you to use my name, especially when so many call me Kai, you can call me Jongin," he reasoned, moving to sit cross-legged on the sofa so he could face you better.

"It's not like I just call you 'babe' or 'sweetie' or something like that. 'Nini' is based on your name, it just rolls off the tongue better than 'Jonginnie'."

Jongin paused then, his head cocking to the side in thought, making him appear more like a puppy than a bear. "I hadn't thought of it like that," he admitted. "I mean, how it's still linked to my name."

"Yeah, so it is still intimate and personal, but it also feels cute and affectionate," you added.

"Thank you for explaining, I'm happy with it now," Jongin concluded.

"Thank you for telling me what was bothering you," you replied, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Love you, Nini," you muttered as you pulled away.

Jongin let out a small giggle at the nickname. "I love you, too."

NAVIGATION | EXO MASTERLIST | SUPERM MASTERLIST

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kyooongie · 10 months

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hi im bored and i will literally write any exo x reader (or solo.. u know what i mean) fic u leave in my ask box. back to fandom tumblr and back to my ROOTS !

please interact im crying and throwing up

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panthitracartoon · 2 years

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KAI for Yves Saint Laurent New All Hour Foundation

#jongin #kai #kim jongin #kai x ysl #ysl #ysl new all hour foundation #advertising #pics #220609 #I LOVE YOU SOO MUUUCH #♥️🙏😍😍😗😙😆😚😙😙😍😘😗

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yeolsaintlaurent · 6 months

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Nocturnal Reverie ch.8 [PCY]

pairing - chanyeol x fem reader

genre - mature, smut, angst

themes - power imbalance, romance, crime, justice, class divide, politics, sex

warnings - none for this chapter

Chapter 8: Unexpected Encounter

The local grocery shop offered a familiar sanctuary in the midst of Emberhaven's turmoil. Y/N entered the store, her steps echoing softly in the fluorescent-lit aisles. It was a simple task, just picking up some food, but in a city where trust was a rarity, even a routine trip to the store had its element of unpredictability.

Her journey through the shop brought a sense of nostalgia mixed with caution. As she navigated the aisles, a subtle sense of unease nudged her, a shadow of something amiss. Her senses sharpened, she noticed a fleeting figure that sent her instinctively ducking behind a shelf, heart pounding.

Peering from her hiding spot, she confirmed the person was gone before emerging cautiously and resuming her shopping. But as she approached the cereal aisle, her anticipation was muffled by a sudden yearning. Her favorite cereal, Fruit Loops, sat on the top shelf, just out of her reach.

Before she could ponder the inconvenience, a presence unfurled behind her, a warmth that she recognized before turning. It was Chanyeol, the very person she had sought to hide from moments earlier. His lopsided smile was different this time, marked by a calming seriousness. "Here you go, Y/N," he offered, placing the coveted box of cereal in her cart.

Stunned by the unexpected encounter, she struggled to find her voice. "Th-thank you...?" she managed, her words a breathless whisper. Chanyeol seemed unwavering in his intention as he looked at her, his tone indicative of their undeniable need to talk. "I really think we need to talk, don't you?"

With a contemplative pause, she nodded, her gaze drifting away. As they continued down the aisle, Chanyeol observed her choices, breaking the silence with a remark about the lack of healthy options in her cart. "Eh, they get the job done," she replied, her words lightly masking her curiosity about his presence.

Chanyeol's gesture took her by surprise as he smoothly took the shopping cart from her, guiding it with a care that transcended the confines of a casual encounter. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she silently wondered if he hadn’t actually recognized her that day, secretly pleased that she hadn't jeopardized their burgeoning connection.

His steps led them to the produce aisle, where he selected vegetables, adding them to her cart with an air of practiced consideration. Next, they ventured to the meat aisle, and fresh cuts of chicken found their place among her groceries. Although questions swirled in her mind, she decided to hold them back for now. "I noticed you had like zero healthy food options in your cart," Chanyeol commented, his tone gentle but firm. "Let's get some healthy veggies into you."

As they made their way toward the self-checkout, Y/N readied herself to complete the transaction. However, Chanyeol acted swiftly, already using his card to pay. Frustration brewed as she questioned his motives, "Hey, why did you do that for?" Her irritation was palpable.

Chanyeol's response held no room for argument. "I want to get it for you. Can’t I do that for someone I lo-", he stopped mid-sentence. Y/N offered a thank you, not letting on that she heard him. Holy shit, do I really wish to hear the L-word right now??? - she asked herself. As they bagged their purchases together, their unspoken history and the mysterious circumstances that bound them cast a heavy yet hopeful atmosphere.

Chanyeol's reluctance to hand over the bags as they stood by the self-checkout had hinted at his determination to accompany her further. Her suggestion to discuss their matters in the parking lot was met with his unwavering resolve for a more secure location. Before she could protest, he had already taken a few steps forward, his determined stride leading her home.

As they reached her doorstep, she hesitated, turning to face him with an earnest request. "Could you wait here for a bit? I need to straighten out the place a bit first." Chanyeol granted her request with a reassuring smile and a nod.

Quickly, she unlocked her front door and entered her small, modest apartment. Her heart raced as she realized she was about to welcome a guest, especially one she was growing increasingly fond of. A frenzy of cleaning followed, with clothes hurriedly stuffed into the closet and empty snack packets, microwave dinner remnants, and discarded alcoholic beverage bottles swiftly finding their way to the trash.

Every action carried her anticipation and a sense of excitement she couldn't deny. Her emotions were tangled between the thrill of having Chanyeol in her home and the nagging curiosity about what he wanted to talk to her about. All the while, her thoughts whirled, forming a whirlwind of questions and possibilities. She contemplated every item she put away, wondering if it would convey the right image.

Once satisfied that her living quarters at least presented a veneer of tidiness, she walked back to the door with a mix of excitement and anticipation. She had never had a boyfriend, let alone invited someone into her home. As she opened the door, she found Chanyeol seated on the stairs outside, engrossed in his phone.

A confident smile touched her lips as she greeted him, her voice laced with newfound courage. "Come in, Chanyeol." The once-aloof man from the bar had gradually become a more constant presence in her life, and as he stepped into her apartment, it was as though the threshold of her world had expanded to include a piece of his own.

As they stepped into her small apartment, she locked the door behind them, sealing a moment that seemed laden with significance. Guiding him into the combined kitchen and dining area, she invited him to take a seat in one of the chairs while she began to put away her groceries. His voice, filled with concern, interrupted her actions. "How have you been doing?" he inquired, noticing the discomfort she faced while trying to reach the shelves above the kitchen counter, her wounded shoulder causing her to wince.

She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose her response. "I'm doing fine, just been a busy week," she replied, her voice tinged with a subtle hint of exhaustion. Chanyeol's questioning eyes prompted her to explain further. "Busy, huh?" he prodded. "What have you been up to?"

Y/N decided to keep her response vague, hoping not to reveal too much. "You know, just this and that, nothing as exciting as what you would have been up to," she responded with a faint smile.

Chanyeol, however, was determined to unravel the truth. His prodding questions aimed to coax her into sharing her reality, but he couldn't suppress his concern any longer. He moved swiftly, closing the distance between them. With a gentle but determined hand, he pulled aside her cardigan to reveal her bullet wound. The shock in her eyes was evident, and she instinctively pushed him away, her voice raised in protest. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.

His tone remained calm, but a trace of anger crept in. "How did you get that wound?" he inquired, the question hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Y/N knew the jig was up, her earlier evasions exposed. "So, I guess you did really recognize me," she conceded, her admission laced with a mix of resignation and anxiety.

Chanyeol stepped back, his gaze locked onto the bullet wound. He couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt for having been the one who shot her during the raid. His heart ached as he watched her. Y/N couldn't hide the pain that flickered in her eyes; it was more than just the physical discomfort from her injury. "Y/N, what happened?" he inquired, his voice now softened, revealing genuine concern.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting from the floor to his earnest eyes. She knew she had to share the truth with him, even if it meant risking her safety. "I was at the wrong place at the wrong time," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't choose to be there, Chanyeol. Things just spiraled out of control."

Chanyeol absorbed her words, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the weight of their complicated connection hanging in the air. Finally, he broke the silence. "Tell me everything, Y/N. I need to understand." His insistence was rooted in a mix of curiosity, regret, and a burgeoning desire to protect her.

As she began to recount the events leading up to the raid, she couldn't help but be captivated by the emotions playing across Chanyeol's face. Concern, understanding, and, perhaps, a hint of forgiveness. When she reached the part where she had stolen the valuable eggs, her eyes met his with a trace of guilt. She anticipated a harsh reaction, but what she found in Chanyeol's gaze surprised her.

"You did what you had to do to survive," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "I can't change what's already happened, but I want to help you now. Y/N, you don't have to face this alone."

As the weight of his words settled in, Y/N's heart ached with gratitude. She had expected anger and recrimination, but instead, she was met with kindness and an offer of support. Chanyeol was proving to be a complex figure in her life, one she was struggling to fully understand.

Chanyeol continued to gently touch her bandaged wound, his eyes filled with remorse. "I apologize for any part I played in your pain," he whispered. Y/N's response brought a small, sad smile to his lips.

As the conversation continued, they shared pieces of their respective truths. Chanyeol admitted to being at the raid because he had been investigating Lucio's operations as part of a deeper undercover operation. He kept the details vague, not wanting to reveal his full involvement or the fact that he knew Y/N's connection to Jongin.

Y/N, in turn, explained her presence at the raid as an attempt to sell the stolen eggs, a move motivated by her need for money and the desire to rid herself of a dangerous commodity. When Chanyeol asked the question that had been weighing on him, if she was part of the organized crime, she answered with an emphatic "FUCK NO! It was the first time I had to deal with that dude, Lucio, and after everything, it was the first and last time I've gotten to be involved with scumbags like that", making it clear that she had no affiliations with Lucio's crew.

Chanyeol nodded, his face reflecting relief at her answer. He believed her, but there was still a knot of worry in his chest. "I'm here because I want to help you, my darling," he said sincerely. "I understand that you're in a difficult situation, and I don't want to see you get hurt further. Is there anything I can do for you? Any way I can assist you in getting out of this mess?"

Y/N's eyes locked with his, her vulnerability showing. She appreciated his offer, even though she was uncertain about the depth of trust she could place in him. "I need a safe place to stay, Chanyeol," she confessed. "Somewhere I can lie low for a while, away from prying eyes."

Chanyeol contemplated for a moment before he spoke, his expression serious. "You could stay with me," he suggested. "I've been trying to keep you out of it, because the situation is more dangerous than you know. Not only are Lucio's men after you, but the police are also searching for you, suspecting your involvement in the mafia."

Y/N's eyes widened with realization, and she felt a shiver of fear. Her name on the police's wanted list was not something she had anticipated. She nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation.

Chanyeol continued, "My home is a secure place, and I have connections that can help keep you hidden. I'll do everything in my power to protect you."

For the first time, Y/N allowed herself to relax slightly in Chanyeol's presence. Despite their complex history and the secrets that lingered between them, it was clear that he genuinely wanted to help her. She felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps, with Chanyeol's assistance, she could navigate the perilous path she had found herself on.

The atmosphere was thick with tension as Y/N hurriedly packed a duffel bag with essentials. Chanyeol sat on the floor, amusing himself by playing with her cat. The sight of him interacting with her furry companion brought a smile to her face. In the midst of chaos, these small moments of connection provided a glimmer of normalcy.

Y/N zipped up the duffel bag and then looked over at Chanyeol. Her heart swelled with gratitude. She was relieved that she had found him, and there was a sense of reassurance in his presence. However, their respite was short-lived.

With her cat secured in a carrier, Y/N picked up her belongings, but Chanyeol stepped forward, offering to carry both the duffel bag and the carrier. They were about to make their way to the door when they heard hushed, urgent murmurs and shuffling outside her apartment.

Both Y/N and Chanyeol froze, their gazes locked in alarm. The situation had escalated rapidly. Chanyeol motioned for her to step back as he approached the door, peering through the peephole. What he saw sent a chill down his spine.

"It's Lucio's men," he whispered to Y/N. “Shit, they must be here for the merch and the money”, she whispers back. She tensed and glanced around the room, her mind racing for an escape plan. Chanyeol pointed toward the back door, and they rushed toward it, leaving her front door behind.

Just as they reached the back door and Chanyeol fumbled for the lock, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the apartment. The door to her home was brutally knocked down, revealing multiple armed assailants who had already infiltrated her living space.

With heartbeats racing and adrenaline coursing through their veins, Y/N and Chanyeol didn't have a moment to lose. They burst through the back door just as the front door was breached, the sound of gunshots and the rush of bullets whizzing past them echoing in the narrow hallways. The two of them fled into the darkness, their escape into the night fraught with danger, but driven by the desperate need to stay one step ahead of their pursuers.

Under the cover of the inky night, Y/N and Chanyeol found themselves crouched behind a parked car in a desolate alleyway. Their breaths came out in hurried gasps, and their hearts pounded with adrenaline as they listened for any signs of their relentless pursuers.

Y/N, her senses sharpened by desperation, carefully peeked out from their hiding spot to scan the surroundings. Her eyes strained to spot any movement, and as she gazed down the dimly lit alley, she could sense no immediate threat. With a subtle but reassuring nod, she signaled to Chanyeol that the coast was temporarily clear.

Carefully and without a moment's hesitation, they silently slipped away from their refuge behind the car, making their way through the labyrinthine streets of Emberhaven. Their footsteps were quiet, and every alley they navigated, every turn they took, was guided by the instinct to evade their relentless pursuers.

As they journeyed through the dimly lit night, Chanyeol's residence became their beacon of hope. Their determination was unwavering, a testament to the unspoken connection that bound them. Safety was within reach, but the secrets that swirled around them grew ever more ominous.

In the calm of the night, under a moonless sky, they reached Chanyeol's home. Their breaths, once ragged and anxious, now settled into an air of relief. They had managed to elude the danger that lurked in the shadows of the city, for now.

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