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luckykiwiii101 · 22 days

Note

Hello, I am writing to you as a 22-year-old girl who managed to enter the void on the night of May 17 and changed her whole life.

I started my void challenge in December 2021. It was very difficult for me both physically and psychologically. Because I had an environment that was abusive and violent. And my conditions were very terrible. I had an exam that I couldn't win for 3 years, an alcoholic father who beat me, and a mother who never let up on it. I have lost a lot of things in my life in 3 years, but I have never given up on emptiness. If there are people who are still struggling with the gap, I hope my success story will be a motivation for you.

One morning when I woke up with failure again, I was feeling extremely unhappy and hopeless. But an incident at home during the day made me say, ‘That's enough, I'm going to fuck everything up tonight and wake up in a void.

When I wasn't feeling very sleepy- or even sleepy at all- I lay down on the bed. Because I'm afraid to fall asleep. In order of;

15 min Holotropic breathwork

20 min Silva method

10 min Alpha State meditation

After lying motionless for about 45 minutes, the brown noise started playing. It is very natural that there is a desire to move, to be overwhelmed,to give up in this part. Please continue for your dreams. When the brown noise was playing, I used a single affirmation.

‘I'm simply deciding that I'm in a void.’

I can't remember how many times I repeated it. After a while, everything became quiet and I felt so peaceful for the first time in my life. I had a 30-page document and I said that everything in there would be manifested.

A day ago, when I had nothing, I now have a house on the Mediterranean coast, a black bmw ix car, a Harvard math degree, an online job where I earn 25 thousand dollars per month by working only 4 hours a day 4 days a week (Dollars are very valuable in the country where I live, and my salary is multiplied by about 30.), I have a beautiful face, body and skin. I also showed that I can ride horses professionally and draw pictures. I confirmed that the apple products, books, cosmetics and skin products in my wishlist are also in my house. I have also declared the person I will meet about 1 year from now and who will become the man of my dreams.

THIS IS AMAZING!!!! I’m so happy that you’re now living your dream life 💗

This is such a good example of showing people that they can truly do anything. Thank you for taking your time to share this 💗

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassumption #loa blog #loablr #manifestation #loa #the void state #void success story #void state success stories #void challenge #void concept #void success #void state success story

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sunnebeam · 1 year

Text

in the darkest little paradise.

A 'DARKEST LITTLE PARADISE' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex (bc it's fun to fantasize about in fictional situations but please use protection irl), small mentions of mafia shit (again), sex work

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: yet another smut drabble that's actually just a buildup for a whole ass wip! enjoy

— prev: (none) | next: and all the pieces fall

You're not much of a crybaby, not when life has a way of toughening you up.

But right now, with your legs high up in the sky as you lay on your back, your skin reveling in the soft velvet of the sheets, you blubber incoherently with uncontrollable tears streaming down your face.

The reason for your tears is wearing a smug look as he looks down at your pitiful, crying form.

"Why are you crying, princess?"

His thumb never leaves your clit just as his cock never leaves your warm, wet heat. But he doesn't move.

"Yoongi—"

"Yeah? What do you want?"

He's ruthless, rubbing circles on your sensitive nub but remaining otherwise motionless while he's balls deep inside you.

You hate crying. You hate pleading, as well. But Yoongi singlehandedly makes you do both.

After all, Min Yoongi owns the streets of Daegu. It should be a no-brainer that he owns your body, too.

He loves you like this, loves when your tough facade breaks just for him, loves when you whine and beg and plead to him, loves when you fall apart because of him.

"Yoongi," you whimper when he twitches inside you, "move."

If someone else tries ordering him around, they'd lose a limb.

But here you are, your pleas commanding him to fold to your every whim, your moans and lewd sounds spurring him to give you what you want.

And he does.

Yoongi starts off slow, knowing just how much you love the buildup despite your whining. He gathers a generous amount of spit in his mouth and lets it drop on your waiting cunt, groaning when he observes the mix of juices pooling between your spread legs where the two of you are joined.

"I've spoiled you too much," he teases, his hips starting to pick up a faster pace. "Bossing me around. Never saying please."

You're too fucked out to respond and it's not like he expects you to, anyway. Not when he starts jackhammering into you just the way you like it, and he begins to feel the fluttering of your walls.

"Yoongi," you sob, and as if to appease him, you chant, "please, please, please—"

And then you fall.

Yoongi loves it when you climax. You thrash around, hands gripping anything you can reach – the sheets, the bed posts, your hair, your tits. There's a beautiful vulnerability to the sight, a stark contrast to the tough, closed-off act you normally put on.

In truth, the both of you are closed-off people. But right here, with your cunt squeezing the life out of his dick, with your naked bodies connected in the most intimate of ways, he allows himself the same moment of vulnerability.

He falls. He reaches his peak and spills inside you, leaning down and groaning into your neck as you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Anyone looking at the two of you right now would think you're two lovers basking in the afterglow.

In another world, maybe. But in this dark little paradise, you can only wish.

Because he's Min Yoongi, the ruthless mob boss, the topdog of Daegu. And you're just a no-named prostitute, a whore, a nobody.

You know better than to dwell on it. So you suck it up, put on a face for him, and try to make the rest of his visit worth his while and worth his money.

After all, he's paying for you.

"Hey," he calls out just as the two of you are getting dressed. "Are you available tomorrow?"

"Oh, it's my day off tomor—"

"Not to work," he clarifies. "I mean, to go out."

Your eyebrows furrow.

"Out?" you repeat. "Out where?"

"To dinner."

You blink. "You want to take me out to dinner? Why?"

"Don't people usually go out for dinner to celebrate their birthdays?"

"My... birthday...? Wait, what?"

Yoongi just smirks. He then kisses your cheek before walking out the room with a quick, "I'll pick you up at seven," thrown over his shoulder.

You're dumbfounded. You're flustered. And truthfully, you're a bit excited. But most of all, you're confused.

Because how did Yoongi know tomorrow's your birthday?

#bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts x you #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #suga x you #bts fic #yoongi fic #suga fic #min yoongi fic #cat.writes

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phoenixblaze1412 · 7 months

Note

Hi! Could I request child reader reacting to Omega deleting the other clones?

Main segments to take note of (not canon):

Webttore will be referred to as Theta

Akademiya segment will be Iota

Child segment will be Kappa

You could only look in horror as you glanced around the laboratory that was filled with the motionless bodies of the segments.

You had just woken up from a nap that Iota tucked you in earlier yet here you are staring at his lifeless eyes.

Chemicals and lab equipments have been scattered around the room. Splatters of blood was scattered throughout the lab, the scent of iron filling your nostrils. You could only whimper in fear as you held a plush of Dottore close to your chest.

You walked closer to Theta's figure, kneeling down and gently shaking him. You were hoping they were only playing a trick with you. They would usually tease you by playing a game where they would pretend they were dead.

But why aren't they moving?

"Theta, wake up. I don't like this game anymore..."

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes as you moved Theta's mask away from his face. You know he would lightly scold you about removing his mask and playing with it.

"Why aren't you scolding me.. I took off your mask, Theta. Please look at me..."

You patted the segment's cheek, after receiving a silence in reply, you could only let out a cry as you kneeled down in the middle of the corpses.

Even though they were only a replica of Prime himself in different parts of his life, you considered them as your own family. They treated you like a little sibling, even protected you from the dangers of the world.

You just wanted Theta to wake up and playfully pinch your cheeks. Epsilon handing you your favorite sweets. Beta and Gamma teaching you how to read and write. Iota reading you bedtime stories. And even Sigma who would dress you up in lots of different clothes and would always make sure you looked presentable.

You gasped as you looked around the room in search of Kappa, the child segment of Prime. Your footsteps, covered in red liquid, echoed through the room.

You dropped your Dottore plushie as you stared at Kappa's figure. He was sitting up against the wall, blood dripping down the corner of his lips as the back of his head looked like it just exploded.

Now that you notice it, all the segments in the lab looked like their heads exploded.

You cried as you moved closer to Kappa and held him close to you, the blood from his head stained your clothes but you didn't have the mind to react on it.

"No, no Kappa.. not you too please..."

Your wails can be heard along the hallways as you held onto Kappa. He was the segment that was almost close to your age. He was your playmate whenever the others are busy doing experiments. Kappa would even comfort you whenever you would hear the screams of the test subjects that was coming from the lab.

You choked back a sob when you heard the door to the lab open and a figure walk in. You tightly held onto Kappa as you watched the figure approach you.

Once the figure showed themself under the light, you were faced with Omega's towering form. You also noticed a purple and green item in in his grasps but had no clue on what it could be.

"Omega! E-everyone isn't waking up.. and there's blood a-and their heads..."

"Calm down, little one. There's no need to cry."

You lost your hold on Kappa as Omega picked you up in his arms.

"B-but everyone.."

"They are not going to wake up. They never will. They are now dead, (Y/n)."

You cried on Omega's shoulder in grief, he only cooed and tried to calm you down by rubbing your head.

You didn't notice him kicking Kappa's corpse away as if it was a mere pebble on the road. Even doing it to the other dead segments as he made his way out of the lab with you in his hold.

"But how.. no one dangerous came in the lab before I took a nap."

Omega hummed as he gently rubbed circles on your back.

"It's simple, really. I was the one who destroyed them."

You slowly looked up at Omega, your mind not able to process the information he told you.

"What do you mean you destroyed them?.."

"I had to neutralize them, give them the direct order to self-destruct. Just so I can be able to obtain the dendro and electro gnosis."

You felt your grief turn to anger as you glared and punched at Omega's chest.

"You killed them! Why would you do that, Omega?! They're family!"

Omega didn't even flinch as you repeatedly hit his chest. Your cries of telling him to bring the others back only fell on deaf ears.

You cried out in pain when Omega pinched a pressure point at your neck, knocking you unconscious. He adjusted his hold on you so that your head was laying against his shoulder before making his way to find Prime.

"What's done is done, (Y/n). You'll come to learn that sacrifices must be made. I'm sure you'll forgive me soon. Besides, they can be created again.. although they won't have any memories of their old versions."

Back in the laboratory, besides Kappa's bloodied corpse, there laid your Dottore plushie. All covered in blood and forgotten just like the rest of the segments.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #dottore #zandik x reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader

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flowerprincesscherryblossom · 1 year

Text

morning

pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader word count: 863 warnings: fluff AO3 A/N: Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

The sun was slipping into the room through the blinds, the sound of birds chirping and everyday life being heard from outside, the clock on the nightstand ticking by - all the signs that you should probably get up and start the day where there, handed to you on a silver platter.

But in the moment, you didn't care, because the sight you had woken up to was something worth delaying everything.

Yoongi was laying on his back with you curled up to him, your arms wrapped around his waist and his hand on your hip, your legs tangled with his thigh pressing against your center.

His expression was one of peace with little snores escaping him, almost like he hadn't come home at almost two in the morning and hadn't to leave in a few short hours.

You stood there motionless, almost scared that the smallest movement from you would disturb this image of utopia, simply staring at him wishing you could see this side of him more often.

You knew you had to get up eventually, you had nothing to do and nowhere to be today but he did, and even if sometimes all you wanted was for him to stay, you knew he would never give up on his dream, especially for you.

Sometimes, when alone, you would wonder if you were being as selfish as you thought you were, demanding just a speck of his attention and probably adding more stress to an already stressful life. You were scared that one day he would leave you because of that, a girl like you wouldn't be hard to find when compared to his job - thoughts like this were hard to quiet down when he wasn't there to assure you of his love.

With a sigh you took one last look at him before slowly and carefully unwrapping your arms and getting up, fixing the covers on your side and making sure he was still sleeping before exiting your bedroom and heading towards the kitchen to start breakfast.

You started making coffee for the both of you, black for him and yours with milk and sugar, taking both of your mugs from the cabinets. Normally coffee was the only meal shared between the two of you before he left for work and came back when you were already asleep. Good thing too, because there were some days where you couldn't stomach anything in the morning and you didn't want Yoongi to worry about you skipping meals.

You didn't even hear him get up until you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards his chest and his lips pressing pecks on your shoulder.

You turned around to give him a proper good morning but before you could utter a single word he lifted you up and put you on his shoulder and started walking back to the bedroom. You tried to wiggle out of his grip but that only resulted in his hand smacking your left cheek.

He dropped you onto the bed, got on it pulling the covers over the both of you and pulled your body against his before you got a chance to complain. You were facing each other, his eyes closed and a pout on his face and you passing your fingers through his hair.

"What was that about?" you said trying to contain your laughter, you loved seeing this side of him so much.

"My cuddle toy disappeared and I couldn't sleep." his brows furrowed and you couldn't help but let out a couple of giggles. He looked like such a cold and unreachable person but in reality, he was just a big soft baby. At your reaction, his brows furrowed even more if that was possible, but he still kept his eyes closed."It's not funny, I need my sleep."

You chuckled for a couple more minutes before letting the room fall into silence, his expression falling back into calmness. You stayed like that for a while, your hand on his hair and his on your hips, appreciating the rare occasion where Yoongi belonged to you and there was nothing else to take him away.

But unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

"Baby," you wrapped your arms around him, laying your head on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck with your nose, he would never admit it but you knew he loved waking up like that. "You need to get up or you're gonna be late."

"Day off," he mumbled sleepily but opening his eyes and putting a few strands of hair behind your ear. "I just want to sleep right now and for that, I need you here with me."

You lifted your head to stare at him, surprise could be read in your eyes. He found your expression quite amusing and proceeded to press his lips against yours. It took a few seconds for the shock of this new information to pass but eventually, you reciprocated, your lips molding against one another. Your hands traveled to his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours and tightening the grip on your hips.

You missed this. You missed him so much.

#bts #bts x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic

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eoieopda · 1 year

Text

interlude: sunrise (myg)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader | Darksided AU Type: “Morning After” Drabble // Fluff Word Count: .9K Summary: Two years after your first night with Min Yoongi, you wake up next to him in a Parisian hotel. CW: Brief acknowledgement of nudity; Yoongi’s morning voice; devils, tricks, and the prospect of crepes. A/N: Surprise 🥳 This is a drabble that takes place between the events of Foresight and Darksided! A lil snippet of their anniversary trip to Paris (2018,) which is referenced in Blindsided. Just because, you know, I missed these two terribly 🥲

You woke up in exactly the same condition in which you fell asleep: naked, with an exhausted Min Yoongi mumbling through sleep with his cheek smushed against your shoulder and his equally bare body radiating warmth.

His imitation was so spot-on that you had to do a double-take when you saw the sun — the real sun — making itself known through the glass door of the balcony. As it rose, it backlit the Eiffel Tower not far off, leaving a staggering shadow to stand between your hotel and the break of a new day.

With a contented sigh, you melted back into the mattress and wondered how much convincing it would take to keep Yoongi in that bed with you all day. You had grand plans to ingest every carbohydrate you encountered on the Champs-Élysées; but no mille-feuille could ever be sweeter than this. And though it certainly wasn’t home in a literal sense, it sure as hell felt like it, tangled up with your love in soft, white sheets.

Cutting through comfortable silence, Yoongi muttered something unintelligible and startled himself awake. He jolted, eyes still hazy with sleep as he blinked rapidly up at you. The second he registered your startled face so near to his, you felt the tension leave his body. Just as quickly, he melted back into a puddle, collecting near your collarbone.

“Early,” he mumbled through lips too tired for movement. Of course, he wasn’t wrong in his observation. It was early — offensively so — but your giddy heart was already running marathons at the heavy warmth of Yoongi’s morning drawl.

This was, perhaps, your favorite flavor of his voice; molasses slow and ocean deep. Dawn be damned, you were suddenly wide awake.

Whatever Yoongi said next in that perfect, husky tone was unintelligible. In fact, if you hadn’t felt the column of his throat vibrating against your shoulder, you might not have registered speech at all. Suddenly flustered and beyond fond, you tilted your head to glance down towards his face.

His delicate features were half-buried in your hair as it lay strewn about your pillow, but you still caught the crinkle forming above his closed eyes, between his brows. Pensive, he was concentrating deeply like it took all the effort in the world to repeat himself:

“Gonna be a blizzard.”

You pulled your heart eyes away long enough to look back outside. Finding pink dahlias thriving in the late-August air, you had to wonder if Yoongi was sleep-talking; or worse, sun-downing before it’d even had the chance to finish rising.

Umm…

Both theories went out the window when he shifted a little closer, moved the arm draped over your stomach a little further across, and ran the side of his thumb slowly back and forth along the curve of your waist.

So, you’re awake, but I might be dreaming.

That’s when it clicked. You pursed your lips for a moment to fight off a grin; you failed in an instant.

“Oh, that’s right,” you sighed, laying it on thick. You pressed the palm not hidden underneath his pillow to your forehead, “The weatherman did say to expect a half a meter of snow —”

“— and black ice,” Yoongi interjected. Then, he moved just enough to place a kiss at the side of your neck. He kept his lips there long after the tension in them faded out. You suspected that this was a choice and not simply sleepiness that left him motionless.

His breath tickled when he continued his mumbling, “Big wind, too. Just, like, so much wind.”

You were a second away from exploding into giggles, so you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth. You nodded solemnly in agreement, “The most wind. Far too dangerous to go outside today, I fear.”

“Too bad,” Yoongi offered, though he sounded far from displeased.

The tip of his nose chilled the underside of your jaw when he nudged it against your unsuspecting skin; and it, in turn, nudged a tiny peep out of your otherwise locked lips. When he kissed your neck again, his smile was palpable. You shivered when the hand massaging your side switched targets.

His palm was a whisper up your forearm, over your elbow, ghosting beyond your bicep. Yoongi put his weight onto his elbow just in time for his hand to cup your cheek. You followed his lead and turned your face inward as he sat further upright. Blissed, your eyes drifted shut as he leaned in to kiss you properly.

Perfectly, pillowy soft — so inviting that you had to swallow a petulant little whine when he pulled away too soon.

This time, it was your cheek on the receiving end of his thumb’s delicate brush; reflexively blushing cherry blossom pink when his twinkling, half-lidded eyes fixated on your face with all the love in the world.

“Jagi,” he started with a whisper.

With that thoughtful crease returning to the space between his eyebrows, your sprinting heart picked up its pace. If your pulse hammered any louder, the guests in the room next door might’ve called over to complain.

You swallowed, anticipated, “Yes, love?”

He paused before he spoke again as if whatever he said next required bravery he had to summon first. He inhaled deeply. You, on the other hand, were breathless. Time stopped and started over in every second that passed while you awaited his impending question.

“Do you think room service will respond this early?”

They may not have heard your heartbeat next door, but you’d venture a guess that every person in that hotel heard Yoongi’s surprised yelp when you uprooted yourself from underneath him. If they hadn’t, they certainly should’ve noted your growl when overtook him, slinging your leg over him until you had him pinned.

Head caged in between your arms, Yoongi blinked up at you with feigned innocence lighting up his irises, “What? You love crepes!”

“You’re so mean,” you whined, earning a smirk from the trickster beneath you. Your exaggerated pout was supported by every muscle in your face. “Devils like you don’t get crepes!”

His abdominal muscles tensed underneath the weight of your body when he sat up slightly just to kiss you again. As he did, he muttered against your lips, “They do, though —”

Then he kissed you again.

“— and the girl —”

And again.

“— all in due time.”

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iwonderwh0 · 11 months

Text

Another fic idea that I'll never write:

Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.

#dbh #Fic ideas that I'll never write #hankcon #probably (although it can be platonic. I mean there is literally no physical body in question)#pocket ghost

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itsmebytch001 · 10 months

Text

Smoking It Away Pt 3:

Summary: After the 6 weeks are up, Aaron comes to pick you up from rehab with Miles in the car, part of him wants to apologise for sending you away, the other knows what he's done is right, while Miles desprately tries to press you to talk to him.

Miles and Aaron exited the Rehab, Aaron had to fight every thought in his head to not run back in and bail you out while Miles stared into the distance with the growing feeling of regret sitting within him. And as they approach the car Aaron goes to take a final look at facility before riding off.

As they begin to ride off back into the wooden area, Aaron keeps looking back at Miles through the rear view mirror as he keeps looking back at your empty seat, he can see his nephew is struggling, wallowing in his own dilema of if he had done the right thing. They sat in silence through the entire of the trip back to Brooklyn, and once they pulled up outside Mile's home, Aaron dropped him off.

Miles Dragged himself slowly up the fire escape and entered his room, flopping onto his bed, laying their motionless for awhile until he heard his door knob click, and his parents shuffle into the room they looked down at him sadly.

Jeff: "So, how did it go?"

Miles: "What do you mean, 'How did it go?' We dropped her at the rehab and left her there"

Usually Miles parents would scould him for his sass, but all things considered it was reasonable that he would be upset, Rio exchanaged a look with her husband and exited his room.

Jeff: "I didn't think he would actually do it"

Rio: "What do you mean?"

Jeff: "I didn't think he had it in him to send her off to a rehab where he wasn't with her for almost a month, I thought maybe he'd chicken out and just take her home."

Rio: "Well, It's for the best I'm sure"

Meanwhile poor Aaron was sitting in the dark of his empty house back on your phone scrolling through it, scanning over all your personal texts and photos, selfies of you smoking or snorting and all he wanted was to find who ever the hell your dealer was, and he thought to look through your call list.

Aaron: Sun 12:33 missed Miles: Sun 12:09 missed Pluggg: Sat 13:19 -10 mins Miles: Sat 12: 11 -15 mins Auntie Rio: Sat 9:11 -12 mins Stella : Thurs 19:13 -1 hour Stella: Thurs 19:11 missed Pluggg: Thrus 17:19 -12 mins Bloom: Tue 19:11 -9 mins Miles: Tue 13: 11 -18 mins Musa: Tue 11:14 - 12 mins Aaron: Wens 21:23 - 1 min

Honestly if you didn't want him to find your supplier you should have came up with a better contact name, He thought how should he deal with this, this stranger that was posioning you for so long, he could go all Prowler on him and take him out, but he left that life far behind so why not hand this phone over to Jeff, surley he, or the police could sort through it until they found the adress of this 'Pluggg'.

He clicked off your phone and set it on the table, never had he been more aware that he was alone in the house, of course he had been alone before and had also known the feeling of having children and not knowing where they were, the stress and worried pacing calling you again and again with it going to voice mail and having to wait home until he would hear your window creek open and sound of you falling into bed, and now he was so upset with himself for not going into your room to scould you, but now that ne knew you were home, he could sleep.

And now he was alone, but atleast he had the knowledge were you where, that should he a comfort but really it just made him feel weak for having had given you do then.

As he walked down the hall he peered into your room to see how much he had torn it up. The emptied draws, the completely stripped bed, the hollowed out wardrobe and most of all the glaring whole in the floor, the missing floor board that once housed your goodie box of hard drugs.

He got into his lone bed, checking his phone to see a missed call from Jefferson, So he called him back.

calling Jefferson Morales

ring

Aaron: "Hey"

Jeff: "Hey...You good man?"

Aaron: "I'm...I don't know man"

Jeff: "I know. But I think You did the right thing"

Aaron: "Did I?" He ran his hand over his face.

Aaron: "What If it is just teenage shit? what if-"

Jeff: " Aaron...You found MDMA and cocaine in the floor"

Aaron: "I know...I know"

Jeff: "This should teach her, or help atleast...You go through her phone again?"

Aaron: "Yeah actually, I think I found his number"

Jeff: "His number? As in the dealer?"

Aaron: "Yeah I think so, If it's not this 'plug' guy it's this Stella girl"

Jeff: "Stella? Who's she?"

Aaron: "Y/n little friend who's a bit of a star girl, looking through these texts it seems she is the one buying half the time"

Jeff: "That's supplying, I could arrest her"

Aaron: "I don't know, I don't know" He groaned.

...

Jeff: "Don't go back man"

Aaron: "But wha-"

Jeff: "Aaron if you go back she'll know that she can get away with this type of behaviour, You'll be telling her that it's fine, she has to know their she can't just step on you"

Aaron: "Yeah...Yeah I guess"

After the next six weeks Aaron avoided going back to his apartment as all costs, hanging around the Morales house into late hours, then wondering the streets for hours until sunrise, only returning to the house when he had too, counting down the days until he could bring you home.

Needless to say once the six weeks ran out the whole family were looking forward to your retrun, of course Miles was stressing about you 'not talking to him' as you said you would, but Rio was just glad to get her surrogate daughter back.

The day finally came for Aaron and Miles to pick you up, Aaron felt ealted that he would finally have you home, had had almost no contact with you, only letters, and by the end of the program he had only sent 3, he never got a response and he wasn't sure if it was beacuse you weren't allowed to write back, or that you wouldn't.

So while Miles and Aaron drove off out of Brooklyn to pick you up, Jeff and Rio where in your home setting up a small welcome home party, nothing big, just cake with juice and a banner, yes it was strange that they would do this after a rebab stint, but they just missed you so very much.

Jeff had written out a mildy threatning speech to read to once you got home, and Rio was gleefully icing the cake.

The car ride was long and quite until finally they reached the facility, Aaron rushedly walked in to the reception where be began to sign you out while Miles kept checking you through the glass doors, and oh how happy Arron was to see his girl walking out that hallway, you looked tired.

Miles: "Hey!"

Once you made it through the doors, Miles went to hug you only to be meet with the hand, pushing him away.

Aaron can't help but also try and hug you, and through you tried to push him off, he still took you into a tight embrace.

Aaron: "Its good to see you baby" He holds you for several seconds almost sufficating grasp, finally he would be at ease that he had gotten you back, Miles kept looking for eye contact with you but you refused to meet his gaze.

Aaron took your bags from you forcefully and carried them back to the car, Miles trasped behind you as Aaron put your bags in the back of the car, Miles sat in the front with Aaron while you were in the back, he put on the radio and began to drive.

Aaron kept looking back at you through the rear mirror, he was so happy to have you back.

Aaron: "So baby, how did it go?"

Y/n: "Just drive Aaron" You heard Miles sharply inhale.

Aaron: "Aaron? We doing that now huh?" His hands tighted round the wheel, he had just gotten you back and already you were casusing problems.

...

Aaron: "Okay then" He mumbeld to himself tensing.

Miles: "We missed you Y/n"

You don't dignify him with any kind of response.Half way through the road trip home, you desprately needed to pee you knew you should have gone before you left the facility, and lucky you saw a gas station up ahead.

Y/n: "Can we pull over? I need to pee"

Radio silecne from both your Dad and you cousin.

Y/n:" Hellllo? Dad Can we pull over I need to pee"

Aaron: "I'm not Dad, I'm Aaron aren't I?"

Y/n: "Are you serious?"

Aaron: "You wanna call me by my name on your first day back out, and you expected me to pull over for you?"

Y/n: "You are a grown ass man, why are you being so fucking petty?"

Aaron: "Don't swear in my car"

Y/n: "Pull over I need to pee"

Aaron: "You can hold it"

Y/n: "Aaron, what is wrong with you? Let me out this car"

Aaron: "You are thin Ice Y/n"

Miles looked back at you in the rear view mirror, you made a moment of eye contact and you could see in his face he was pleading for you to shut the hell up.

Y/n: "Or what? You don't have anywhere else you can abandon me in"

The car comes to a sudden stop in the middle of this empty road.

Aaron: "Excuse me?"

Y/n: "you heard what the fuck I said"

...

Aaron: "Get out my car"

Y/n: "Excuse me?"

Aaron: "You heard me"

Y/n: "Are you serious?"

Aaron: "You heard me, you wanna talk to me like that your first day out you can make your own way home"

Y/n: "This is a motor way sourounded by trees"

Aaron: "Get. Out. The. Car"

And so you did, Miles watched as you got out the car with just one of your bags and walk off the road and onto the side walk, Miles was stunned by his Uncle giving him a stunned look, Aaron picks up on this and returns him a calm unbothered look.

Miles: "What was that?!"

Aaron: "Don't worry man, we'll turn back in 20 minutes and pick her up by the gas station, then maybe she'll shut up"

Miles: "What if she goes off into the woods?"

Aaron: "I dout it"

And just as Aaron said they turned back 20 minutes later to find you sitting with your bag out side the Gas station Aaron knew well enough you wouldn't go walking in the woods and you knew your father wouldn't actually leave you, Your Dad pulled up next to you and rolled down the window and gave you a apethtic look.

Aaron: "You ready to apologise?"

Y/n: "...No" Aaron also predicted that.

Aaron: "Get in the damm car Y/n"

The rest of the drive home was quite and uneventfull, droned out by the radio and once you two finally made it home of course you where relieved to be somewhere familair, but all you really wanted was to sleep in your own bed, Aaron shuttled you into the aparment with Miles and you were greeted with Rio and Jeff smiling at you with a cake, and a banner saying 'welcome home'.

ah crap

Rio Comes in to hug you tightly giving you a kiss on the cheek while Jeff looks on at you unimpressed, some how still mad at you even it's been 6 whole damm weeks since you had been in the home, you took your bags and simply walked past them dissmissivly and dropped them in your room, shutting the door not wanting to engage with them, Rio was clearly hurt by this so Miles went in after you.

He was you laying on your bed face down clearly exhausted.

Miles: "Y/n"

Miles: "Y/n I know you aren't asleep"

Miles: "Y/n!" He yelled shoving you bit.

Miles: "Get your ass up, the whole family put this together for you and you won't even say hello to my Mom?"

...

Miles: "Get the hell up" He shoved you again.

Miles: "I'm not playing with you get the hell UP!" He pulled off the bed by your shoulders and onto the floor.

Y/n: "What is wrong with you?!"

You picked yourself off from the floor, shoving him away from you.

Y/n: "I just want to sleep in my own bed"

Miles: "It's 11:00?"

Y/n: "Miles, Ive been sleeping in a rock hard bed in a building full of crazy people for six weeks all I want is to sleep in my own room, can you fuck off for god's sake"

Miles: "I honestly don't care, get your ass out there before I drag you down the fucking hall"

Y/n: "Yeah yeah whatever" And so you deafeatedly walked out your room to re greet your family who were already upset at you for dismissing them so quickly sat you down to cut the cake, you kept making eye contact with your Uncle Jeff, unwillingly meeting his cold gaze.

Rio handed you a plate with a slice of cake on it placing a hand on your shoulder, you Dad through clearly still bitter about earlier was also so very glad to have you home.

Rio: "look how thin she's gotten, clearly they didn't feed you right"

She was right, they did feed you, but mostly it was raw veggies and porridge and how much you wanted to fight the dinner lady for feeding you such grule, she said it was to help with with drawls, but it clearly brought her joy to feed you all the worst possible things imagineable.

Miles: "Yeah what they feed you there?"

You roll your eyes at him as the family gathers around you all feeding on the cake and pouring juice in their little cups, as you were bombarded with questions.

Rio: "Where they good to you their?"

Y/n: "Well I guess, They made us go to a funreal home at one point that wasn't great"

Jeff: "They did that to show you what could have happened if we hadn't caught and sent you off"

Y/n: "...okay" You weren't really sure what the correct response to any of these rehab realted questions where, is was rehab it wasn't supposed to be nice.

The family had gone stale due to your unwillingness to make actual conversation, so Jeff took this as the time to whip out is 'speech' which was actually just a fancy written threat.

Jeff stood in front the whole family with his paper in hand.

Jeff: "Ahem..Y/n during you absence in recent weeks we all missed you greatly and are happy for your return, and while you were gone I thought about what might have happened if Miles hadn't alerted us to what you were doing"

'Alerted? You mean snitched the little rat'

Jeff:" Every year thousands die in this city of drug overdoses, it starts with weed, and escaltes into harder things, like Cocaine, or MDMA, like you, and we are all so gratfeul to Miles for choosing to tell us, rather than wait"

Miles smirked at you from across the couch.

Jeff: "I have had the burden of informing familes's that their children had passed due to drug overdoses, and I will not allow you to be another I will not have you in a morgue dead and cold because you wanted to have fun with your 'friends' I, along with the family will not allow you to destroy yourself for your own selfish and frivalous indevours" He folded the paper in his hands and sat back down as the family began to slowly clap since the speech came to such a strange and sudden stop, he wasn't great a public speaking, obviously.

Later into the 'party' Miles was despratley trying to make proper converstation with you, unwillingly giving him short unresponsive answers, Auntie Rio was fawning over your changes in apperance, and she was right to say you looked 'rough', your skin had broken out due to stress, your hair looked like shit, you had lost weight, you nails had been chewed right to the end, truly it had been an unpleasant six weeks.

Rio: "Your hair looks so dry nina, did you not take care of it?"

Y/n: "My Dad only packed me shampoo in bag"

Rio: "Oh...Why?"

Y/n: "I think He's forgotten what it's like to have hair so he though that would be enough, bald little man"

Rio: "Oye, Don't be rude hehe" She giggled under her breath, this is what your usual interactions were like, not the cold stare on the couch when you were finally caught.

Rio: "ah well, we'll get you sorted yeah? Get you some Argon oil...and some face masks for all thisss" She dragged out the 'sss' gesturing to your terrible skin.

Y/n: "Yeah, that would be nice"

Jeff took Aaron into the next room for a little chat regarding your Plug, if he were to dissapear into the system he could no longer supply you, but the other problem came about with Stella, she clearly shown by your texts often was the buyer, and simply shared with you, and It wasn't reasonable to imagen going after her legally since her family had so much damm money they could easily have all this swept under the rug.

Aaron: "So you find him?"

Jeff: "Yep, we skimmed through Y/n's phone and we got him, his adress his name all of it, we should have in custody by next week, until then don't give Y/n any means of contacting him"

Aaron: "Do you know how hard it is to keep a teenager off the internet, and you want me to do it for a week? If you know who the guy is why not do it now?"

Jeff: "Because that's not how it works Aaron"

Aaron: "great" He said through gritted teeth.

Jeff: "What are you going to do about this Stella girl? She seem's to be her drug buddy"

Aaron: "I don't know man, her family's rich as hell it's not like she could be arrested"

Jeff: "I could arrest her, it's a case of it sticking"

Aaron: "I don't know man, but I'll take care of it"

Eventually the family scooted out the house leaving you alone with your Dad, Rio promised to take you out this coming weekend to get your nails done together as you sometimes would, and Miles still recived a cold glare from you, with you in your room unpacking all your stuff, your Dad leaned against the door frame of your room.

Y/n: "I see you put up bars on my window, classy"

Aaron: "It could be temporary, if you keep in line"

Y/n: "Yeah Yeah"

Aaron: "I'm glad to have you back Y/n, really I missed you"

Y/n: "Okay, I guess"

...

Aaron: "I don't want you hanging round that Stella girl anymore, she's a bad influence"

Y/n: "And how would you know? Youv'e only spoken to her like twice"

Aaron: "I know because you only started acting out like this when you met her, and she's in all your secret little photos on your phone, and she's the one buying you shit when youv'e already spent all your money!"

Y/n: "You went through my phone?"

Aaron: "Of course I went through your phone I found drugs under the floor boards!"

Y/n: "That's an invasion of my privacy!"

Aaron: "HA! Privacy? Y/n I don't think you understand what's happening, You don't have any damm privacy since your brought drugs in my house, no phone, no laptop and if you keep pushing it this way you aren't going to have a door, and if I see Stella or see you talking to her I'll keep those bars up, end of okay?"

...

Aaron: "Okay?!"

Y/n: "FINE!"

Aaron: "Don't yell at me in my own house!"

Y/n: "My house, My Door My window My daughter, I am 17 you do not own me-!"

Aaron: "You are a minor! and as long as you live under my roof NO STELLA I am your father and WE are family, don't be priortise her over your family"

Y/n: "I'll be out this house soon enough!"

Aaron: "I'd love to see you find a home in this economy!"

Y/n: "Whatever Aaron"

Aaron: "Call me that again, see what happens" He yells as he exits your room, closing the door behind him.

Y/n: "AARON!"

Aaron: "NO MORE DOOR"

GIVE ME MORE MORALES FAMILY REQUESTS!!!!!! PLZ I LOVE THIS

#yandere spiderverse #aaron davis x reader #uncle aaron #yandere morales family #dad aaron davis #platonic yandere #yandere miles morales #aaron davis #yandere rio morales #rio morales x reader #rio morales #jeff morales #jefferson davis #miles morales x reader #miles morales

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daechwitatamic · 11 months

Text

Of Ruin || KTH {Teaser}

Title: Of Ruin

WC: tbd - I'm gonna ballpark it around 60k and it will be chaptered Rating: NSFW - minors DNI, I am very serious about this Pairing: KTH x reader {vamp!tae x human!reader, ft human!namjoon and vamp!jimin because it's always v(amp)min hours at daechwitatamic dot com!!}

Genre: supernatural!au with presence of magic, witches, and vampires || s2l || a splash of (somehow) both fake-dating and arranged-marriage || angst fluff smut trifecta

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of Infracti civil war - and the love you start to feel for the prince.

Warnings: uhhh okay so I mean vampire murder/human hunting and feeding?, blood and i guess gore?, language, recreational/casual drinking, more to come as I write the rest

Author’s Note: Firstly! Although the worlds, rules, characterizations, and plot are very extremely different, I have to say that I was inspired to write this after reading @kth1fics Black Ravens series. Thank you to Maggie for being so gracious when I asked if she’d be okay with me trying a vamp!tae fic of my own.

I'll be upfront here and say that I do not know when this will be done or when it will start posting because, as you know if you've been around my blog for a while, I write to completion before I make a posting schedule. But I hit 20k today and that made me very excited and I just kind of wanted to share the excitement with you all!

Anyway - here's a teaser!

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer.

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing.

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered up, staggering towards them, and Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawnmower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no whites at all.

“An Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly.

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs too weak to hold her up - let alone to run.

Not that she could outrun an Infracti.

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see him move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to remove the Infracti from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms, face buried in the crook of his neck.

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened his hands - fingers splayed purposefully as he emptied them - and his victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. His all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing.

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then he crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that he looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her.

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a monster straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his teeth pierce the flesh.

–

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit on the Express bus across town, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly.

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon.

“Ten minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse.

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter.

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk.

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack.

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology.

“We did,” Dr. Kim allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk.

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out.

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know.

“Well?” you ask gently, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hadn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noncommittal noise. To you, he says, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it.

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you.

You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so we’d be protected, as guests?”

“Certainly an effort will be made, but there's never a guarantee. This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. I expect that the curse itself must be quite complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves.”

“Not to mention,” Namjoon says suddenly, his tone serious, “we may be visiting during a time of… political unrest. If they suspect the Scorns… we may be walking into the start of Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening.

Namjoon shrugs. “Hopefully not. But the situation will certainly be volatile. The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter.

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families. Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets.

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turning, and let him catch up to you.

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you dig in your wallet, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something.

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

I hope you'll look forward to this fic! Very different from all my hyper-realism I've done until now :')

A friendly reminder that I don't do tag lists, but you can follow my Of Ruin tag for future snippets and updates, and I'll update my Recent Updates when I post!

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #kim taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kth x reader #bts supernatural au #supernatural au #s2l #fic: of ruin

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whimsimille · 24 days

Text

POMEGRANATES

Jeong Jin-Man x female! reader

Pandemonium overtook the cabaret, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering pierced through the cacophony.

Before you found refuge in the room and made a beeline for the closet, your eyes had taken in the eerie spectacle. The grand chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast ominous shadows that danced on the walls, their movements dictated by the tongues of flames consuming the room. Smoke, ashen and thick, curled upwards, a grim proof of the chaos below. It originated from multiple sources: tablecloths set ablaze, furniture upturned and broken, and bottles of discarded alcohol shattered upon impact from stray bullets. The stench was overpowering—a sickening cocktail of gunpowder, sweat, and blood.

One man clutched his stomach where he'd been shot; another woman sobbed uncontrollably near an upturned piano while cradling her head wound; yet another lies motionless near a pool of crimson liquid.

Imagining the worst case scenarios playing out of the reach of your eyes, you hope that whoever's shooting will miss their target.

But then again, if they did, they wouldn't have come here in the first place. This place was a haven for criminals, a den of vice—no honor among thieves—and it looked like someone wanted to reclaim the turf or send a message.

You didn't care about any of that; all you cared about was survival. And Min-Hye.

Through the cracks in the closet door, you watched in horror.

Bodies lay scattered like broken dolls, some screaming for mercy or moaning in pain, while others just lay still—dead or unconscious. It's hard to tell which is worse. Blood drips from their wounds and mixes with spilled alcohol on the floor as chaos ensues around you both.

Men in black tactical gear methodically searched each room, their eyes glazed over with a cold detachment that sent shivers down your spine. They moved swiftly and efficiently, leaving little room for error or hesitation. Their guns were cocked and ready to fire at any sign of movement.

Your Korean wasn't as good as your English to understand everything they said, but you caught enough to realize that they were looking for the girls.

Holding Min-Hye tightly against you, you notice how her soft curves nestled into your own body—the direct opposite of the flimsy lingerie she wore.

Your own clothes were practically torn to shreds from when they'd dragged you into the back room, and your skin was bruised and battered from their rough handling. But there was no time to mourn that now.

Min-Hye let out a whimper as the scream of a woman rang out, but you quickly grabbed her face and put it on your neck.

"Shh, shh," you whisper into her ear, gently stroking her hair as you try to calm her down.

The older woman shook in your arms, her frightened breaths hot against your neck. They were almost upon you now; you could feel their presence through the closet door, like a foul wind that reeked of sweat and gunsmoke. One hard kick and it would all be over. But you couldn't just let them take her—not like this. Not while she was clinging on to you so desperately, trusting in your protection. You had to do something—anything.

"You're going to be okay," you whisper, even though you know you might both end up dead.

Strangely, you feel calm and detached. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or perhaps it's because you've been in similar nightmarish situations before.

Growing up, your home was a battlefield. Your mother, with her razor-sharp words and fists as hard as talons, and your father, a drunk who spent more time stumbling than holding a job.

Your childhood was a blur of violence and fear—trying to drown it out with the solace of books. But that didn't stop bullets from flying and bombs exploding, or men with guns barging into your home, looking for who knows what. You knew how to survive in these situations. How to stay quiet and hidden, how to move without being seen or heard. You were an expert at keeping yourself alive, you learned never to show fear, never to scream, and never to go down without a fight. You learned to toughen up, to leave scars on whatever dared to harm you.

The closet you're in now is cluttered with discarded sex toys, torn dresses, and stained undergarments. Amid the chaos, you spot a pile of black leather items—remains of some BDSM act performed earlier tonight.

You quickly gather them, creating a makeshift cloak for you and Min-Hye to hide underneath.

“I-I’m scared!” Min-Hye interrupts your crafting, her head falling onto your shoulders as she weeps.

Without moving your lips, you pull Min-Hye's head back and gently remove the blonde wig from her head, revealing her short black hair that is matted with sweat and tears. You remember your own hair being pulled, yanked as a form of punishment or control. But that's a thought for another time.

"Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. Slow and steady."

Letting go of the cover, you find her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to transfer some of your calmness to her.

She must have picked up on your trick because she slowly started to mimic your rhythm.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the room as someone kicks in the door of the suite you two were in.

You hold your breath as you hear them approach your closet, feeling the vibrations of their heavy boots on the wooden floor. The knob turns slowly, and you flinch, expecting the worst.

Sweat begins to form on your brow as the door creaks open ever so slightly, revealing only darkness at first. But then, a sliver of light from the hallway enters and you see a pair of cold, impassive eyes gazing straight at you.

Your makeup smeared as you rolled out of the closet, your eyes fixed on the intruders—two men who stared back at you in surprise. You can see the shock on their faces when they take in your nude body and Min-Hye hiding behind you, her eyes wide with fear.

Adrenaline makes you swift and sure. Your hand snakes out, grabbing one of the discarded leather straps from your makeshift cloak and whipping it towards them.

The strap catches one man off-guard, wrapping around his neck and yanking him backward with a crack. He chokes, gasping for air as you twist it tighter, your fingers digging into his skin like claws.

Meanwhile, his comrade takes aim at you both, finger squeezing the trigger. But before he can fire, you dive forward and slam into him with a grunt of effort. Your shoulder crashes against his stomach just as a bullet rips through the air where your head was moments ago. You sink teeth into his neck to muffle his cry of pain until he goes limp beneath you.

The second man, dazed but still breathing, tries to bring his knife up, but you're too quick. His eyes widen as he sees your hands wrap around his neck and then narrow in anger when you squeeze. You smell the sweat on his skin as you twist, feeling his windpipe bend under your grip like a rubber band under pressure. You can hear him gurgle and wheeze for air—a pathetic sound that fills you with satisfaction. This is how it should be—every single one of these bastards deserves to suffer like this.

With a final crack of bone breaking under your hands, the man goes limp and drops to the floor with a thud.

For a moment, all is silent.

Your eyes land on Min-Hye, cowering behind the overturned table, her eyes wide with fear yet still following your every move intently.

From the moment you were unwillingly brought to this place, the youngest and the last to be ensnared, to be handled around Chinese men like a sex toy, you had taken Min-Hye under your wing, offering her the care that had been denied to you, even when she was 5 years older. And now, you would do anything to save her.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as more gunshots ring out.

Glass shatters behind you; someone else is breaking in or shooting through another windowpane. You barely register it as you kick the men away from you and push yourself up to your feet with a snarl. Your legs tremble underneath you but adrenaline carries you forward nonetheless.

You snatch up a shard of broken glass from the floor as another shot rings out—too close for comfort—and throw it with all your strength at a third assailant who had just entered through the doorway. The sharp piece hits him in the eye and he cries out before he falls to the ground.

You could hear others getting closer, their heavy boots stomping on the floorboards. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.

You needed to get Min-Hye to safety, but how? The exit door was locked and there were at least two of them guarding it. The window was your only option, but it was high and covered by metal bars. And even if you managed to open it, the drop would surely break her fragile body. You didn't even know if she could climb or if the fall would kill her instantly.

A sudden thought hit you like a lightning bolt: the ventilation shaft! It led directly outside; perhaps you could squeeze through the tiny opening with Min-Hye and make a mad dash for freedom before they caught on to your plans.

Frantically, you reached for the fallen gun in one hand while dragging the unconscious men with the other, positioning them into a corner. It was a spot that was out of sight from outside yet still provided a modicum of cover while you prepared to make your bold escape.

“Damn it!” you hissed when you checked the gun, finding the chamber empty. Your heart sank as you checked the other bodies, but it was the same story.

In desperation, you ripped off one of their masks, revealing a scarred and rugged face that mirrored the cold determination in his eyes when he was conscious. You swiftly grabbed his discarded weapons belt, strapping it around your waist firmly, now armed with a knife and a baton.

"Y/N..."

"Shh, calm down. I have a plan," you reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted around the room, landing on a chair nearby. In quick strides, you rushed to it and jammed it under the doorknob. The chair was old and rickety, its wood groaning under the strain. But it held. This makeshift barricade would buy you some precious time.

Now, it was time to get Min-Hye to safety. She was still shaking, but she didn't resist when you lifted her into your arms, her bare legs brushing against yours as you placed her on top of the table.

With trembling hands, you started to unscrew the bolts that held the grate in place. The monsters outside were cursing loudly, their threats and taunts blending into the cacophony of the chaos beyond the door. Your fingers slipped several times, smearing grease and dirt on the metal, but you were determined.

After what felt like an eternity, the last bolt came loose. You quickly pushed the grate aside, revealing a dark and narrow passageway. The shaft was barely big enough for one person to squeeze through. The air inside smelled musty, filled with the scent of dust and rusted pipes, a testament to the age of the building.

"Min-hye," you said, looking at her, making sure to hold her gaze. "I need you to trust me and crawl through here, okay? Can you do that?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. “But…what about yo-?”

“Just listen," you said, cutting her off. You pointed down the shaft. "Follow it straight, then take the second left. There'll be an opening that leads to the alleyway behind this building. Wait for me there.”

"But..."

"Just trust me, okay?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't question you further. With one last look at you, she crawled into the shaft.

You watched as she disappeared into the darkness, her silhouette fading until all you could see was the black void of the vent. You turned your attention to the pipes running along the ceiling. They were old and rusted, snaking their way across the room and disappearing into the walls. You followed their direction, guessing they led to the main water supply...which meant the main exit was in that direction.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Min-Hye called out from the shaft, her voice echoing slightly. "Why aren't you following me?"

You didn't answer her. Instead, you reached down and grabbed one of the knives from the belt you'd taken from the unconscious man. The cold metal was comforting in your hand; its weight was somehow reassuring. You tested its balance, swinging it a few times before strapping it securely to your thigh.

Then you turned back to the shaft, forcing a smile on your face. "I'll see you soon," you told her, then you closed the grate, leaving her alone in the darkness.

You moved back to your hiding spot, a small alcove behind a heavy curtain that provided somewhat of a shield from the view of the door. The fabric was thick and velvety, muffling the sounds from the other side of the room as your heart pounded in your chest.

Just as you settled into your hiding spot, the door to the room burst open.

A tall man stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He was imposing, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He was dressed in dark clothes, the material stretching over his muscular form. He smelled oddly good, like a mixture of citrus and nicotine.

His eyes were deep-set and intense as they took in the room, searching. They were the colour of storm clouds, cold and unforgiving.

You left your hiding spot, charging at him with a primal roar. He turned just in time to see you, his eyes widening in surprise. But he was quick—quicker than you'd expected. He grabbed you mid-air and threw you to the ground, his grip like iron around your wrist.

You groaned as you hit the floor, and the wind knocked you out.

He was on you in an instant, pulling you up by your hair and pressing the cold barrel of his gun against your throat.

Unlike the others, his eyes didn't rake over your nearly exposed breasts, or the blood pooling around your inner legs from being used earlier, or the bruises marring your body. His gaze didn't possess the leering, predatory glint you'd come to associate with the men in this place. Instead, his eyes met yours and held them.

It was almost as if he was assessing you, looking beyond your physical appearance and into your core. It was as if he were asking himself if you were a morning or a night person, if you enjoyed the silence of the library or the hustle of the city. It was as if he cared more about what you preferred, pink or blue, rather than the color of your lingerie.

You didn’t close your eyes or tear up; all that you did was look back at him through your damp eyelashes, smirking.

The man arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your defiant response. But to your surprise, he eventually let go of your hair and sheathed his gun. With a swift movement, he shrugged himself out of his jacket and gently draped it over you, his hands careful not to touch your bare skin.

As he bent down and lifted you into his arms, you couldn't help but think of the ancient Greek myths you had read as a child.

Now you were Persephone, trapped in the underworld of this criminal haven, and he was Hades. But unlike the myth, there was no pomegranate seed to bind you to this hell and no mother to plead for your return.

The only hope was your own survival instinct and the strange mercy of your captor.

Knock Knock

"Which cheese is the most dramatic?"

"Gorgonzilla."

"Correct. And which cheese is always on time?"

"Swiss, because it has holes in it, like a clock."

"Good. And which cheese suffers the most?"

"Grated cheese."

"Excellent. You may enter. Oh, and by the way, you're bleeding, noona."

Those are the first words that Jeong Ji-An utters as you stumble across the threshold of her uncle's house. Her eyes, glazed with the artificial glow from the television screen, flicker to you momentarily before returning to the unfolding nature documentary she's engrossed in.

It was something about lions in Africa; she seems to be really into wildlife documentaries these days. She always shares a few interesting facts about cheetahs that make their legs super flexible when running at high speeds and how they have spots to camouflage themselves against the tall grasses as they hunt for food.

As her routine requests, she's curled up on the worn-out couch, her small hands coated with a thin veneer of butter from the popcorn she's munching on. The rhythmic crunching of the kernels punctuates the silence of the room, the only other sound being the low hum of the narrator explaining the predator-prey dynamics in the wild.

"Hello to you too, baby.”

As you bend down to plant a soft kiss on her head, the scent of her strawberry shampoo and the cigarettes she smokes fills your nostrils, momentarily washing away the gritty stench of gunpowder and blood that clings to you.

You're not much older than Ji-An, but the bond you share with her feels deeper, stronger. She's the one precious jewel whose value is immeasurable. Maybe it's because she's the spitting image of Jeong Jin-Man, a tiny version of her uncle. Or maybe it's because she, like you, carries the weight of a world much too harsh for her tender years.

"Did you two have dinner yet?" you ask, changing the subject, trying to bring some normalcy to the situation. You glance towards the kitchen; the smell of something burning is still lingering in the air.

You can already imagine Jin-Man's reaction when he sees what happened. He'll probably grumble something about his niece not paying attention while cooking or being distracted by the TV again.

Ji-An finally tears her gaze away from the TV, her eyes lingering on the bloody wound on your ribs with an unspoken concern. "I did, but he didn’t. He was probably waiting for you.”

A sigh escapes your lips and your heart clenches with an emotion you can't quite name. It was always like this. Despite his gruff exterior and chilly demeanor, he'd always wait for you, working obsessively, neglecting his own needs until he was sure you were safe.

"And where's our workaholic now? Is he holed up in his room again?"

“Office. He's been engrossed in managing the missions with Pasin, poring over the site data ever since you left home at dawn," she replies, gesturing towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

“Is Pasin there with him now? They have been working together a lot lately.”

“No, Pasin left a while back. He mentioned that he was going to check up on Min-Hye at the safehouse first, then head to his restaurant. It's almost closing time there, actually. I should start getting ready for my Muay Thai class with him. He's been teaching me some new moves, and I don't want to be late."

"Ji-An, it's already past your bedtime. Your class can surely wait until tomorrow," you attempt to reason with her, casting a worried glance at the vintage clock hanging on the wall. Its hands were inching closer to midnight.

"But noona," she protests, her voice taking on a whiny tone too high for a 17-year-old girl. She puffs out her cheeks and bats her eyelashes, a well-practiced display of aegyo. "I've been practicing my punches and kicks all day. I'm so excited to show him the progress I've made. I just can't wait!"

You sigh, a fond smile tugging at your lips. You know when you've lost this battle. Ji-An's determination was always a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, but on one condition," you stipulate. "You must promise me you won't mention this late-night training session to Jin-Man, okay?"

Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she grins widely, revealing her perfectly aligned teeth. "I promise, noona. Your secret is safe with me. Furthermore, you once again have a battlefield odor."

You chuckle, your hand reaching up to affectionately ruffle her slightly messy hair. "Alright, alright. I hear you, Ji-An. But… before you go," you add, holding up a finger to catch her attention as she's about to spring up from the couch. "I need you to do a few things for me."

She looks at you expectantly, a frown forming on her forehead. "What is it, Noona?"

"First, go put some warm clothes on. It's cold outside, and I don't want you to catch a cold. Second, remember to turn off the TV before you leave. And finally," you say, pointing at the pile of dishes in the sink, "wash the dishes. We can't have ants invading our kitchen."

She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "But noona-"

"I know, Ji. But we all have to do things we don't like. It's part of being responsible. Now, go on. I need to get cleaned up."

“Yes, mom.”

With a dramatic sigh, she nods, pushing herself off the couch to do as you instructed. You watch her go, a small smile on your face. She may be a handful at times, but she always listens to you in the end.

Turning your attention back to yourself, you head towards the bathroom.

As soon as you open the door, you take off your jacket and immediately spit out blood into the sink, wincing at the sound of it hitting the porcelain like a bullet casing echoing through an empty chamber.

There's a persistent ringing in your ears—maybe from gunshots, screams or just stress. But it doesn't matter now. You grab a bottle of painkillers from under the sink and swallow two dry, feeling them slide down your throat like tiny pebbles.

Caught in the mirror is an unflattering reflection: dark circles like bruised moons under your eyes, mascara smeared across your lids like the inky strokes of a careless painter, strands of long hair, reeking of sweat and clinging to your forehead. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, souvenirs of the hours spent digging through the earth looking for something you weren't supposed to find.

Your hand reaches for a washcloth, dipping it into the warm water as you lean against the sink for support while taking stock of your wounds. Your skin is scraped raw from crawling through unmarked graves and dodging bullets; there's a deep cut on your left thigh and shallow ones along your arms where you used them for cover. Your ribs ache where that bastard shot you, but at least it was only grazed. That bullet could have done some real damage if it had been an inch to the left. You grit your teeth against the pain and scrub away the blood with vigor.

Despite the pain and the exhausting work, nothing can change the fact that you did what needed to be done. Murthehelp is always like this—dirty, dangerous, and hazy at times—but someone has to do it. And you do it very, very well.

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Jeong Ji-An pokes her head in. "Do you need anything else before I head out, noona?" She asks curiously and her face softens when she sees the bandages peeking from under your torn shirt, her mouth turning down into a worried frown.

"No," you reply with a small, weary smile. "Just admiring my handiwork."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't comment—she knows better than anyone how tough life can be sometimes. You can hear her rustling around in her room before returning with some clean clothes for you and announcing that she turned off the TV and did the dishes like a good girl.

“Great, baby."

Looking down, you see the baby blue lacy pajamas she knows you love to wear.

"It's your favorite, right, noona?" She says this, holding up the soft fabric. "And you know, Uncle Jin-Man always says you look nice in these." She adds with a teasing smile. “Maybe wearing these will make him less angry at you for coming home shot again."

You laugh at that, despite the pain it causes in your ribs. "I'll keep that in mind, Ji-An. Thanks for the tip."

With that, she gives you a quick, warm smile, her eyes twinkling with that youthful mischief, before she heads for the door. "Don't let him put you in a wheelchair. I like it when you’re able to walk, you know. It’s not as fun when you’re all bandaged up and grumpy.”

“Yah! Jeong Jin-An!” You shout, feigning anger. But the girl was already gone, her laughter echoing in the hallway.

“That brat…” You mutter under your breath, a small smile playing on your lips despite the pain.

Gently, you peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking to your sweat-drenched skin. You leave them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

With a sigh, you sink into the water, wincing slightly as it stings your fresh wounds. Yet soon, the warmth starts to seep into your muscles, loosening the knots of tension and easing the throbbing pain.

There, in the bathtub, you lower your head beneath the water, closing your eyes and holding your breath. You imagine what it would be like to be this weightless always. It's quiet and warm, and your mind is empty of anything other than the comforting lull of the water against your skin.

You think about how every inch of your body screams in agony, and how, in this moment, submerged in this warm bath, the pain is bearable. You entertain the thought of what it would be like to let go, to surrender to the quiet peace of the water.

Then, your mind wanders to the feeling of the porcelain against your skin. You recall a memory from a few weeks ago when you were sitting in a bathtub similar to this, and only then were you engaged in a deep conversation with Min Hye. Her voice was punctuated by the sound of her smoking, the bright red lipstick staining the cigarette’s filter. There, you weren't holding your breath. You were telling yourself to remember that moment, how it made you feel alive despite the danger lurking outside your door.

You think about the bruises on your knees, the deep purple and blue hues, the tenderness you feel when they brush against each other and even though they hurt, they'll fade in a few days, just like the pain from your past.

You think of how your lungs are starting to ache, and it reminds you of running through the park with your sister, rolling down a hill and picking leaves from each other's hair. You then think of the day she died, how you held her lifeless body in that same park, and how the world seemed too cruel and too big.

It was like the earth was mourning for her, groaning, opening up its foundations like an old and creaky house, revealing its rotting insides. And yet the wind, the rain and the cold weren’t the cause of the shivers that raked her body, making her hands tremble and her eyelids twitch.

A body left to rot, to return to the soil, to turn into dust. A name scratched from the books. A face lost to the turning tides of history.

You contemplate all these things and more. You ponder everything that comes with living and being alive. All the things that hurt, sting and break skin, and then all the things that are light, gentle and happy. You weigh the two in your hands; the pain and the joy are so intertwined that they're impossible to separate.

After what seems like an eternity, the water begins to turn a pale pink from the blood seeping out of your wounds. Your skin is raw and red, stinging from the hot water and the rough scrubbing. Despite the pain, you can't help but feel a little cleaner, a little less tainted by the night's events.

Slowly, you pull the plug and let the water drain, watching as the pink swirls spiral down the drain until only a few droplets remain.

You reach for a towel, wrapping it around your body and wincing as the rough fabric brushes against your tender skin. The mirror is fogged up, but you don't need to see your reflection to know the extent of your injuries.

Moving to the sink, you retrieve a first-aid kit and start to stitch up the deeper cuts. The process is tedious and painful, but you've done it countless times before. Your hands shake slightly, but the thread goes through the skin with practiced ease. Once the stitching is done, you clean the area one more time before applying a bandage over it.

Dried off and bandaged, you put on the pajamas and head to Jin Man’s office.

The office door is slightly ajar, revealing the familiar sight of his desk cluttered with papers and screens, each displaying different angles of surveillance footage or diagrams.

A map of Seoul sprawls across the large desk, littered with notes, files and printouts from their last job. On the screen of his computer are grainy photos taken from a distance; they appear to be of two men meeting in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. One man has his back turned towards the camera while the other gestures wildly with his hands, most likely giving orders or directions.

You push the door open further and step inside, wincing at the loud squeak it makes under your weight. It needs oiling.

Jeong doesn't even seem to notice or mind; he's too absorbed in whatever he's working on. A half-empty cup of cold coffee sits on his desk, the steam long since dissipated, next to a plate with crumbs from a hastily eaten sandwich that looks like it was abandoned mid-bite.

You take a moment to appreciate how he wears his work like a second skin—it defines him, molds him into something almost apart from human—and you feel a pang of guilt for disrupting his routine like this.

His office smells metallic and antiseptic; it's always been like that since you can remember. Not unpleasant but not inviting either; it matches his personality perfectly. Outside, the world continues its mad rush of people, cars and noise. But here, there's just the hum of machinery from his computer and occasional typing noises.

"Done playing the tough guy, huh?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"You walk like a cat," he replies, not missing a beat, "And after a shower, you always smell like a mix of vanilla and lavender. It's a comforting scent, but it doesn't cover the stench of danger that follows you."

His words hang in the air, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. You watch him, taking in his stern expression and the way his fingers dance over the keyboard. His words are stoic, almost passive-aggressive, but you know him well enough to see the flash of worry behind his icy demeanor.

"Could you at least look at me when you're lecturing me?" You snap, regretting the bitter edge in your voice the moment it escapes your lips.

He finally looks up, his eyes hard and unreadable. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm merely stating the facts."

Surpised, you watch as he fixes his table, clearing a space amidst the clutter. It's a spot you know well, a space you've occupied many times in the past. It's an unspoken invitation, a silent concession on his part. Despite his harsh words, he's still making room for you.

You hop onto the table, wincing slightly at the sharp pain that flares up from your ribs. He doesn't comment on it, keeping his attention fixed on his work, but you notice the slight tightening of his jaw.

Provoked by his dismissive attitude, you reach for a lighter and a lone cigarette that's been left on the edge of his cluttered desk. It's a mint flavored one, you notice, the kind Ji-An prefers and sneaks in from time to time, despite her uncle's constant disapproval.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You challenge, striking the lighter and bringing the small flame to the end of the cigarette. The pungent smell of the tobacco fills the room as you take a deep breath, the smoke curling in the air around you.

He finally takes a long sip of his coffee before turning to look at you. "No," he says finally, "it's supposed to make you think. Think about your reckless actions and the consequences. Think about the people who care about you and worry about you. You could have avoided this," he adds, his gaze dropping to your bandaged ribs, "if you had answered my calls or asked Pasin for reinforcements."

"I was handling it just fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"Do you think this is a game?" He hisses, his icy composure finally breaking. "Do you think you're invincible?"

"You're not the only one who can handle a mission, Jin-Man," you snap back, ashing the cigarette on his pristine desk. "I can take care of myself."

In a split second, he’s on his feet. He moves so fast that you barely have time to react. One moment he's sitting behind his desk, and the next he's standing in front of you, his hands on your knees, forcing your legs apart to make space for him. He steps in between them, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

Before you can utter another word, he pulls out a knife from his pocket, a switchblade with a sleek, matte black finish that glints ominously under the harsh fluorescent lights. He presses the cold, razor-sharp blade against the tender skin of your throat. His touch is light, but you know he can cut deep if he wants to.

Simultaneously, he snatches the cigarette from your hand, crushing it under his boot. The smell of burnt nicotine fills the air, mixing with the sterile scent of his office.

“Hey! I need my nicotine fix-”

“Quiet!" he hisses. “I don't know if your goal is to live only for 2 or 3 years more, but you're so reckless, and you're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

The words hang heavy in the silent room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare back at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's close—so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His jeans brush against your bare legs, and you can't help but shiver, feeling the wetness between your legs spread.

"I didn't save you from that cabaret to watch you bleed out. I didn't let you raise my niece as your daughter, only to let her see you getting home wounded. I didn't invite you into my and Ji-An’s lives just for you to get yourself killed." A thin line of blood appears where the blade grazes harder against your skin, but, no, he doesn't pull away; he's only watching as it blooms red against the pale expanse of your neck.

"You don't get to decide what I can and can't handle. I'm not the damsel in distress you saved from that grimy cabaret. I'm not your innocent niece who needs protection. I'm not your responsibility. I'm a killer, just like you."

"And what if you are? What if you're more than just a responsibility to me? I don't even know where you end and I begin." He moves his face closer to your collarbones, and his tongue darts out to taste the saltiness left behind by the blood trickling down from the cuts on your neck. It's a possessive kiss—like he wants to claim every part of you as his own.

Suddenly, you are very aware that he is a man who's been through hell and back—not just with the scars from bullets and knives but also from the way his eyes seem to hold so much pain yet desperation for something more.

"I'm tired of watching you put yourself in danger. You can't keep doing this."

For the first time in years, Jin Man sounds truly vulnerable. His gaze stays locked on yours as if waiting for an answer or maybe hoping you'll finally say something that will change his mind about caring for you. But all you can do is breathe in the scent of his cologne, which mixes with sweat.

You feel yourself slipping away from sanity, wanting him to save you from the chaos within yourself.

"I don’t need someone but myself.”

He sighs heavily.

His large hands shake as they grip your knees tightly for support as he leans against them, staring down at your groin, taking in your arousal staining the PJ shorts.

“Yeah? Can you take care of this yourself, too?”

Pulling the blade out of your throat, he carries on, pressing the blade against your skin gently, tracing it along one hipbone, then the other, as if he needs to make sure everything is okay down there. His hand brushes against the tender skin of your thighs before slipping inside your shorts to touch where you're wet from anticipation and fear mingled together.

It's intimate but also terrifying—you can't help but squirm under his touch as he traces the outline of your labia teasingly while looking straight at you with those dark eyes that have haunted your dreams for months now.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling as he starts cutting through the fabric of your shorts, and you hear the soft rip of cotton tearing apart.

The air in the room feels heavy with anticipation and tension as he caresses your mound before pushing inside. It's cold against your heated skin, making you squirm slightly under his touch.

The knife glides through your folds effortlessly, causing you to gasp in surprise when it hits something soft and sensitive inside you.

He withdraws the blade slowly, the cold metal leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. A small cut on your flesh blossoms like a tiny crimson flower, the evidence of his intrusion.

A bead of blood forms at the edge of it, growing in size until it's too heavy to cling to the blade. It drips onto the floor between your legs.

With a calculated motion, he discards the bloodied knife onto his desk, the clattering sound echoing in the charged silence of the room.

"So experienced yet so innocent. My little lamb," he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he smears his finger on the little pool of sweet nectar seeping from between your folds.

"What are you doing?"

His dick strains in his trousers, throbbing at the unsure, confused tone that layers your question. It sears through him like a midsummer heatwave—the flash of bright sunlight after the clouds of a storm have parted. Jesus, you’re too good at this; you know exactly how to get under his skin.

“Teaching you to not play with fire.”

It's clear he's not going to let you hide behind a wall of anger and defiance anymore. Each word he says seems to peel away another layer of your armor, exposing something raw and fragile underneath. Something that craves his touch, even when it hurts.

"Ouch!" You exclaim sharply as his strong hand grips your arm, yanking you around and forcing you to stand upright again. The abruptness of the movement causes a jolt of pain to shoot through your body, making you wince.

Before you have a chance to protest or push him away, you're bent forward, your chest pressing against the cool, polished wood of his desk. You try to push yourself back up, but you're stopped by a firm hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, effectively pinning you in place.

“Stay still.”

You let out a whimper, your hips instinctively shifting in response to his forceful command. Slowly, you let your body go limp, surrendering to the dominating position that Jin-Man has forced you into.

“Do you know,” the man begins, fingers trailing down your lithe back, along the length of your spine, all the way down until his fingers can tuck under the hem of the rest of your shorts, "that in the old days, rulers like this were not just used for measurement?"

You know it. But you won’t answer; you won’t give him the taste. So you shake your head and make a whining sound as your boss begins to push the fabric down over the swell of your ass.

"They were also used for discipline against wayward children.”

Your whole body shivers.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Long lines of red across your thighs and ass marks to remind you not to act like such a slut…” Jeong emphasizes the words with the drag of nails against the newly-bared skin. “You’re just asking to be punished.”

Shaking your head again, you try to deny the accusation.

“Oh,” the man says, feigning surprise and removing his hand from your backside. “You don’t? You don’t want me to spank you for your insolence today? You want me to stop?”

There’s a small thudding sound as you let your head bump into the desk a couple of times in self-punishment. When you speak, the words are straining and shaking. “N-No, Sir.”

“What was that?”

You groan in frustration. “Yah, Jeong Jin-Man, come on! Ah!”

Fingers wound tightly in your hair, Jin Man pulls your head back from the desk, baring your bruised neck. “Excuse me?”

“Sir! Sir, I’m sorry; please, I’ll be good, I–” You mumble, probably aiming for politeness, but the words come out more sulky than you likely intended.

Jeong Jin-Man ignores it in favour of getting your bloodied shorts down, pushing them over your thighs until they fall to a puddle on the floor around your ankles. Spreading the cheeks, he can see your stretched and cut pussy, can see the throb of your clit, your smaller, puckered hole also smeared with wetness from just how much you had been oozing out.

Lifting his gaze, he surveys the room meticulously. His eyes linger on the worn-out leather chair with its loose stitching, the stacks of paperwork teetering precariously on the edge of his desk, and the dimly lit ceiling lamp that casts long, sinister shadows on the wooden floor. His gaze then falls on a wooden ruler resting among a chaotic array of stationery in an open drawer.

He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around it and lifting it from its resting place. He turns it over in his hand, feeling the rough texture of the worn wood against his skin. He tests its weight, swishing it through the air and listening to the soft whooshing sound it makes.

He thinks he will only stop once your ass and the backs of your thighs are neatly lined in red, with touches of crimson and purpling spots showing through the skin where patches of bruising are going to form.

Jin Man knows your skin has always been easy to mark, flaring eagerly with scarlets, pale rose and smatterings of plum. The warm colours are quick to fade, replaced by blues and greens, mottled yellows that cover the fragile arcs of your cartilage, flesh pasted with echoes of tender, affectionate violence.

It’s so pretty, so lovely. He has always preferred charcoal and pencils when setting something on paper, but when it comes to this particular canvas, he likes to paint.

His free hand settles on your ass, squeezing it hard and leaving his large palm impression on your skin, making your lips quiver.

"One," he says, and the sting is immediate as the ruler hits your right cheek, leaving a blossom of searing pain that radiates across your body, making you gasp. "Two," he continues, and this time the ruler hits your left cheek, making you shudder violently.

The sting is fierce but not enough to distract from the strange pleasure that courses through you. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each strike.

"Three." He slaps your left side, causing a wave of heat to wash over you as he repeats it on the other side.

The room seems to echo with the sounds of his hand connecting with your flesh. This time he doesn't stop at five but hits six and seven times on both sides before pulling back to admire his handiwork.

The welts are already bright red and tender, ready for him to take more if need be. He runs a finger down each one gently, tracing their edges before trailing it lower between your legs, where he presses against your clit roughly. You moan loudly this time, needing him to continue even though it hurts so good.

“I-Is it over?”

He chuckles, the sound dark and low, resonating from the pit of his chest. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine and has you clenching your thighs together in anticipation. He lifts his finger, coated with your arousal, and presents it to your lips. "Taste," he commands.

You parted your lips obediently, taking his finger into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around it, tasting your own arousal—salty and bitter, with a hint of metallic tang from your earlier exertion. It's a taste that's uniquely yours—a taste that he's come to crave.

Once you've licked his finger clean, he pulls it away and grabs hold of the ruler again. He brandishes it in front of you, the wooden surface gleaming under the harsh lighting. Another line of pain sears across your ass cheeks, making you jerk in surprise. This time, when he pulls back, he commands, "Sit on the desk and spread your legs.”

Again, you hesitate. You can feel your fingers twitching, itching to claw at him, to show him your defiance. But you know better than to challenge him now.

Crack!

Jeong snaps the ruler against the desk and you flinch. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

No, you think, but you're not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you say it. You scramble into action, hopping up onto the desk again, scooting backwards until your knees hook on the table’s edge when you open your legs. The sting of the cut intensifies, making you wince, but you refuse to let out a sound.

One more time, he steps between your spread thighs. “You asked if your punishment was over. Do you really think that after all your disobedient, inappropriate behavior today, those measly strikes were all you deserved?”

Shaking your head desperately, you babble, “No, sir, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Jeong Jin- Man stuts. “And now you’re lying…”

“No, please, I just want to be good, I–” You are cut off with a hiss as your boss cracks the ruler down half-way up the center of your inner thigh.

He doesn’t lift the ruler, instead dragging it over your skin, up, up, up until he reaches the crux of your hip. You shiver, your eyes wide and your lips caught between teeth.

Glancing down at the ruler, you see the point of which is laying mere inches from your cunt before looking back up.

Jeong can tell that you’re trying to hide how hungry you are and how much you want this, want more, and need it. But you are so subtle about it; he can only tell because he knows where to look.

“You don’t need to count this time,” he says, seemingly casual. “Just do your best not to make too much noise, hmm? We don’t want Ji-An to come back home and hear you like this.”

“Yes, Sir.” Your reply is curt, but the edge in your voice is unmistakable.

Jeong doesn't seem to mind your defiance. If anything, it seems to amuse him, admiring the way the muscles in your thighs tense up as he uses the ruler to part your soft labia. He presses the wooden corner harshly against your clit.

“Fu– Mmph.” A sharp, snapping sound breaks through the air as you clap a hand over your own mouth, cutting off the curse before it can fully form itself.

The man smirks and twists the ruler, maintaining the heavy pressure.

Smack! Smack!

Puffy lips must cushion the blows, just slightly, but he is still sure that it’s sharp enough to hurt when the blows make contact with your swollen clit. The impacts sound moist, and the slick covering your skin likely makes the sting a touch more severe.

Jin-Man doesn’t give you a moment to recover between each hit, unleashing a stream of spanks in quick succession, each one causing your entire body to jump and convulse as though you had been electrocuted.

“Ngh, ngh, nghh—Mmph!” You have both of your hands covering your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut and your knees jerking inward on every impact. You try to bare your teeth at him, a growl of defiance building in your throat, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, as if you're a dog trying to show aggression to its master.

It only takes a few more smacks against your pussy before the man’s free hand has to grip your thigh and hold it still, keeping you from allowing your legs to close.

Resting for a moment, Jeong lets the flat side of the ruler lay overtop of your cunt. The already-flushed skin is now a darkened red rather than that rose-petal pink, the colour of your mouth. He is sure that it would be hot to the touch, glowing with heat from the abuse.

“Please!”

Dropping the ruler to the floor, he steps forward. Reaching down with one hand to click open the buckle of his belt, he buries the other in your hair. "Please, what?" he asks, his hand tugging on your hair, tilting your head back to expose your delicate throat. The threat of teeth grazing your skin is electrifying.

He takes his time, slowly unbuckling his belt, the leather sliding out of its loops with a soft whisper of sound. His pants drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles, revealing a hard thickness straining against the fabric of his boxers.

With a swift tug, it's freed, standing erect and proud.

Your eyes widen at the sight, heat pooling in your lower belly. The tip of his cock is flushed a dark red, throbbing with anticipation, the veins on the sides bulging and straining, ready to claim its prize.

A whimper escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily. The heat radiating off his dick is palpable, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel sliding into you, filling you to the brim.

On seeing your reaction, a predatory grin spreads across Jeong's face. He moves closer, his hand gripping your head firmly and holding you still. He positions himself at your entrance, his fingers gripping your hips, pulling your legs wider apart.

And as he thrusts into you, claiming you entirely, the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone rings in your mind again.

Only this time, you are not a helpless Persephone being whisked away to a foreign underworld. Instead, you are a willing partner in this dance of power and desolation, a queen finding her throne in the deepest depths of hell. And Jin-Man, your Hades, is not just your captor but also your savior, a dark god offering you a sanctuary built on shadows and secrets.

As the underworld of his life consumes you, you realize there are no seasons dictating your stay, no harvest goddess waiting for your return. Your fate is braided with his, and in this underworld, you are both the rulers, bound not by pomegranate seeds but by a desire as relentless and binding as the river Styx itself.

#jeong jin man #a shop for killers #lee dong wook #lee dong wook x reader #seo moonjo #seo moonjo x reader #yoon jongwoo #floriculturist #imagine

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sailoryooons · 2 years

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Happy Agust, Hali 💕

Because Mixtape!Yoongi has been living RENT FREE in my mind for the last week, can I please request a fluffy drabble where Yoongi befriends and/or adopts a cat 👀 ? I’m pushing the cat dad agenda here… 😏

Thank youuuu 💕

YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT. Thank you for being so patient with me bby you literally were on the list of had to do because you know I'm obsessed with the idea and finally, we revisit our favorite Mixtape couple and Cat Dad Yoongi.

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi can't stop thinking about the white cat he spotted alone and in the cold. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 3,915

❀ Genre: Older brothers best friend, f2l, a lil' angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Yoongi Cat Dad Agenda, long hair Yoongi yes this is a warning, literally fluff and an excuse to give Yoongi a cat

❀ Published: 3,915

❀ A/N: This is a part of the Mixtape series as an extra chapter. You can 100% read this as a standalone, though you might enjoy it a tiny bit more having read Mixtape!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Extra Chapter 2

Bright sun beats down on your back, warming your chilled skin through the softness of your sweater. You pause lifting boxes for a moment, content to stand in the shaft of light and close your eyes, head tilted toward the source of your brief hiatus from the cold.

Wind skitters down the road and you shiver. Eyes fluttering open in time to see Yoongi coming out of the apartment lobby, rubbing his hands together for warmth. A beanie is pulled down low over his long, black hair – long enough that you’ve threatened him within an inch of his life if it cuts it – and a long-sleeve shirt that’s two sizes too big.

“What are you doing?” he asks, gesturing to where you stand motionless in the sun, box in hand. “You know you can’t photosynthesize, right?

You pout. “You don’t know that. Maybe I’m a plant.”

He hums as he passes you, hand absently touching your elbow as he does. Yoongi ducks into the trunk of the car, pulling out the last box. “Perhaps you’re right. Quiet, soaking up the sun, will die if not given attention.”

“Hey that last one isn’t true!”

The trunk snaps shut, Yoongi grinning at his little joke as he lifts the box. “It is a little.”

Maybe Yoongi has a point.

There was a time when you never dreamed of demanding attention from Min Yoongi. Most of your early life had been spent trying to stay out of his way until that fateful day in the piano room. After that, you co-existed on the edge of one another’s lives. His attention had been something you craved but never went out of your way to receive.

Thinking about your thirteen-year-old self writing about having a crush on Min Yoongi in her diary makes you smile. She had no idea one day everything would make sense. That you would come into synced orbits, and that you’d move in with him at the peak of his career, and a positive shift in yours.

Both of you adjust grips on your boxes and head toward the apartment lobby door to make your final carrying trip up to your new apartment. It’s deep in downtown near Yoongi’s new studio that he bought and opened himself to extend the branch of the label he works under, and it has the perfect large space for your new work at home office.

Best of all, it overlooks the entire city. At night, it looks like the stars have drifted from the heavens to float among the mortals, moving among the dreams and the lives of thousands.

Yoongi pulls up short before opening the door to the lobby, making a soft sound of surprise. You glance at him to see his gaze fixated near the northeast corner of the building where 77th North Street meets 4th Avenue.

At first, you see cars at a stop light. The winter-frosted glass of the coffee shop and dance studio across the street. The bikers bundled in puffer jackets, beanies pulled low over their ears.

Movement catches your eyes lower. You find the object of Yoongi’s attention- a small, white cat with its head cocked, blue eyes fixed on the pair of you.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, kitty.” It meows in response, making the side of your mouth twitch. “Cute.”

Yoongi looks up at the stretch of windows above your apartment building. “I wonder if it has an owner? I don’t see a collar. It’s kind of cold out here.”

“Unsure. Pretty cat, though.”

Yoongi hums, eyes drifting back to the cat. For a moment, you admire the way the cold turns Yoongi’s face pink. He flushes easily, but even more so during winter. He doesn’t notice your slow smile as you watch him and he watches the cat.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a quick shuffle of his box, Yoongi pulls the door open to the hotel lobby. “I’m sure it has an owner. I’ll let the lobby manager know there’s a cat outside, though.”

You smile at him as you pass. He doesn’t notice, eyes drifting back to the cat watching you one more time before letting the tinted, glass door shut. “Okay.” He makes his way to the counter as you move to the elevator. “Don’t take too long. I’m starving.”

Inside the new apartment is warm. It smells like the crisp, citrus candle flickering on the granite countertop. Boxes are stacked neatly in corresponding rooms, marked with your neat handwriting and Yoongi’s slanted scribble.

All of the furniture is already placed and put together. The movers had done most of the work the day before and Yoongi had spent most of the evening into the late night putting everything together, the whine of the drill backtracked by his curses and hisses when something didn’t mesh right.

Every part of the home – and it does already feel like home – is splashed with the watercolors of your shared life. The living room is muted neutrals, the pillows soft and worn from the nights of falling asleep on the couch and the throw blanket frayed at the edges from Yoongi’s sleepy feet stepping on the hem while wearing it like a cape around his old apartment.

There are three bedrooms, one of which now has a desk for you to work at on one side and the other with a massive slab of desk, shelving, and tangled wires for Yoongi’s little home studio. The master and the office both have large windows facing the city, letting in the bright winter light during the day and the glow of the city at night.

You check the writing on the box in your arms. Books is scribbled in Yoongi’s slanted writing, explaining why it’s so heavy. You shuffle to the guest bedroom where Yoongi has lined either side of the bed with tall bookshelves and deposit the box in front of the empty shelf.

Dusting your hands, you walk back to the kitchen, covered in a combination of folded cardboard, paper towel rolls, power tools, and wrapped glassware. You start unwrapping the glasses, sliding them in neat rows in the cabinet.

Yoongi doesn’t return right away. You lose yourself in the rhythm of organizing, crumbling the wrapping paper, and shoving it into the trash. When your stomach growls, you look up at the clock and realize that it’s been twenty minutes and Yoongi still hasn’t come upstairs.

You frown and move to your phone. Just as you swipe the screen to call, the front door opens and your boyfriend comes in. His nose and cheeks are frozen pink, and his hands are a little discolored from the cold outside and the grip he has on the box.

He sets it down by the door, too tired to carry it in as the door clicks shut behind him and he straightens, huffing a bit.

“Everything okay?” you ask, brows raised.

“Yeah.” He’s a touch out of breath. “The lobby manager said he doesn’t know anyone who has a missing cat and doesn’t have anyone having a white cat on file. But people bring in pets and don’t tell the apartment all the time so I went out to take a picture and post to that community page on our rent portal in case someone doesn’t know it’s missing.”

Yoongi flexes his cold fingers. You hold your hands out to him and he immediately responds, drifting to you like a magnet. His hands are ice cold when you take them in yours, rubbing them to create heat and friction.

Once Yoongi’s hands have a little more color and warmth, you kiss the back of his right hand briefly before drifting to the fridge. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Sushi?”

You hum in agreement, hands searching for the plastic box you had picked up earlier. Yoongi leans on the counter behind you as you pull out soy sauce and the spicy mayo, sitting it next to you.

“You think he’ll be okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“The cat,” Yoongi clarifies. You close the fridge and turn to face him. His arms are crossed over his chest, sleeves pulled down over his hands. His gaze is focused on the floor, lost in thought as he chews his lip lightly. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

A smile creeps on your face as you soften at the edges. Yoongi looks up at you as you wrap your arms around his middle. He’s still a little cool from being outside again, but the warmth that the smell of sandalwood and his arms returning the hug chase away the cold.

“I’m sure he will be. We’ll keep an eye on it, yeah?”

You tuck yourself into Yoongi’s neck, closing your eyes. You feel him nod and hum in response. His hands play with the hem of your shirt and you sigh, melting into him. You slot perfectly against him, a puzzle piece finding its home after years of almosts and what ifs.

Yoongi’s stomach growls and you both laugh. You peel away from him and press a soft kiss to his mouth, sweet and pink. “Let’s eat.”

Something light washes across the darkness of your dreams. You sigh and squirm deeper into the pillow, willing to sink back into a comfortable sleep.

But the glow somewhere – a little beyond your sleep – is distracting. You hear tapping next to you and you grumble. The bed is cold, the windows cracked at Yoongi’s request. Eyes closed, you seek his warmth, hands following the soft dip in the bed next to you until your hands come into contact with bare skin.

“Ah,” Yoongi hisses. “Cold.”

His voice pulls you the rest of the way from your seep. Heavy eyes blink open, flinching at the bright, white light splitting the darkness. His phone is held near his face, casting him in an eerie glow with squinted eyes.

“What are you doing?” you croak, voice scratchy and deep. You close your eyes to hide from the light of the phone, but scoot closer to him anyway. Only Yoongi could sleep shirtless with the window cracked in a freezing apartment. “What time is it?”

“Three.”

“What, your emails couldn’t wait?”

“Oh I’m not emailing.” He lets you suck the warmth from his skin as you bury your face in his neck and angle it towards his pillow, finally muting the light. His heart thrums under your arm as you wrap yourself around him, squeezing. “I was checking to see if anyone claimed the cat yet.”

You pause, momentarily confused. Oh. The white cat. “Oh.”

“No one has yet.”

“Hmm, well I doubt anyone is going to at three in the morning, Yoons.”

He sighs. The phone light vanishes entirely and he reaches to set it on the nightstand, temporarily dislodging you. Yoongi settles in again, turning toward you slightly and wrapping his arms around you in return. You can’t help but smile as he sighs, warm breath hitting your brow.

“You’re probably right.”

“We can check on kitty in the morning.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel him nod. “Okay. Night, sweet girl.”

“Mmm. Night.”

An empty bed greets you when you wake up again early in the morning. Your muscles pull tight as you stretch, a strained sound escaping your lips as you look around the room for any sign of Yoongi. The light coming through the white slats in the blinds is dark grey and the clock on the nightstand shows that it’s a little past seven in the morning.

Slowly, you sit up, your body in a momentary state of grogginess. The master bathroom door is open with the light turned off, but you can see the light from the living room and kitchen area on underneath the bathroom door.

Peeling off the blankets, you hurry across the room to shut the window, rubbing your hands together and going in search of Yoongi.

Coffee wafts from the kitchen. There’s only a single lamp in the living room on paired with the light over the stove, casting the apartment in shadows and gentle light. Yoongi is curled on the couch, feet tucked under him and his favorite blanket wrapped around him as he looks at his phone.

For a moment, you stop and stare at him. His hair is messy and sticking up in places. It’s long enough that it reaches his shoulders these days, flipping outward when he air dries it or from being tucked underneath a beanie. His face is puffy with sleep, the hand not holding his phone wrapped around a still-steaming cup of coffee.

“Hi,” you murmur, drawing his attention from his phone. He smiles at you, full gums on display and eyes crinkling. Your heart flips – it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together now. Being the object of Yoongi’s affection still knocks the wind out of you after wanting it for so long. “It’s early.”

He hums but clicks the phone off and unfolds the blanket, holding it open like a bat wing for you to slot yourself into. You hurry over, snuggling into his side eagerly. He’s still shirtless, skin like a natural heater as you press against him. He wraps the wing around you, keeping the heat in as you settle.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, just naturally woke up. Noticed you were gone though so I came looking.”

“Hmm. Couldn’t sleep.”

You crane your neck to look at him.

Yoongi’s dark eyes are fixated on the window. They’re frosty with mist, the cool air outside at war with the hotter air of the apartment. His lips are a little chapped like he’s been biting them all morning and his eyes are unfocused, the kind of look when he’s thinking about new music or trying to remember something.

A small crease forms on his brow. You tentatively lift a hand, slipping it through the hole in your blanket wrap to brush the tips of your fingers along the shape of his jaw. Long lashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of skin against skin.

“What’s wrong?” you ask the question so softly you think he doesn’t hear you. Your hand slips to the hair framing his face, brushing the dark strands back. “Yoons?”

“I’m worried about the cat.”

Yoongi’s words come out like an admission of guilt. His mouth pouts slightly and he chews on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t open his eyes, but the dip of his brows increases as his expression melts into a frown.

“You have to give people time.”

“I’m just worried. It’s cold.”

You examine him. Even the calming strokes of your hand in his hair don’t chase away the frown. You remember all of the times that your touch could soothe him. You remember the way you first ran your hands through his hair like this, long ago at the Park cabin on a vacation you’ll never forget.

“What do you want to do, baby?” He opens his eyes, a question in them. You smile. “You obviously want to do something. What is it?”

He chews on his lip and you prod his mouth. He’s a little bashful as he lets the abused flesh go. “I may have… ordered some things.”

“Oh?”

“You know, to like… keep it here while we wait for an owner to come forward.”

“Uh-huh. What things?”

“Food. Bowls. Some toys.”

You grin. Your soft, sweet boyfriend can’t help himself. He’s the same way with people – buying things he sees people needing. Wordlessly putting gluten-free bread in the pantry for Jimin (and guarding when Taehyung tries to steal it). Buying a new wireless headset for Ren so she can join Jungkook when he streams. Sending Seokjin a stack of recipes Yoongi’s family cook has finally agreed to divulge.

Yoongi speaks in a silent language of love, and it makes you lean forward to press a sold kiss to his jaw before pulling away to get up.

“Where are you going?” He’s wide-eyed and soft when he looks up at you as you stand and stretch.

“Get dressed. Let’s go get your cat.”

It takes twenty minutes in the blistering morning cold, a couple of curses and hopeless looks from Yoongi, and constant encouragement from you before you find the cat in the parking garage under someone’s tire.

Yoongi immediately gets on his knees, staining his sweatpants as he tucks his head under the wheel well, looking up and speaking softly to the cat in question. You watch, shivering in the shade and arms crossed over your chest for another ten minutes before Yoongi slips his hands upward, only retreating when he has a dirty, white-coated cat with blue eyes in his hands.

You offer Yoongi the blanket that you’re clutching – Yoongi’s favorite, as he insisted. The cat is latched onto Yoongi’s shirt, your lips twitching in a soft smile. Yoongi whispers to the feline, head ducked down as you approach.

The cat turns its attention to you, eyes going narrow as it hisses. You hesitate when you lift the blanket, looking at the curve claws that snag in Yoongi’s shirt and the rigid line of hair running up its spine. Yoongi hushes the creature and nods at you.

Carefully, under the suspicious gaze of the cat, you wrap it in a blanket, sliding the material under Yoongi’s grip until he has a bundle, a white little face peering back at him from a checkered blanket. It’s cute, pulling lightly at your heartstrings.

Inside your apartment, Yoongi goes straight to the couch, the bundle in his arms as he murmurs to the cat in question. You watch wordlessly from the kitchen, a smile still on your face as he tucks the cat into his lap, his long hair hiding his face as he carefully unwraps the blanket.

The cat does not move from his lap. Instead, it curls up, blinking its eyes at Yoongi. You hear him laugh, just a soft breath of sound as he scratches between its dirty ears.

“We’ll just keep you until your owners realize your missing,” Yoongi says as you fill a bowl of water. “I think you need a little bit of a bath, hmm?”

You place the bowl of water near the couch, straightening to see a pair of blue eyes trained on you. You offer the cat a nervous smile. “Pretty.”

“Do you want to pet him?”

“How do you know it’s a him?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I might be wrong.”

Tentatively you sit down and hold out a hand. The cat stares at you warily before taking a few suspect sniffs. When it decides you’re acceptable, it rubs its shin on your fingers tentatively, closing its eyes.

“Just until the owners find it?” you ask cryptically.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi’s eyes never stray from the feline.

Week one you put up ‘cat found posters.’

There is a bed and a handful of toys in the living room. The white cat is clean after a yowling, hissing and screaming bathtub experience. You walk through the living room, peering at where Yoongi sleeps on the couch. His hair covers his face, lips parted lightly.

And at the foot of the couch is the cat, curled into a donut with its head resting on top of Yoongi’s foot.

Week two you trip over a cat toy and scowl. Sensing your irritation, said cat appears around the corner, winding between your legs and rubbing himself on your calves. You sigh, the irritation bleeding out of you as you bend down and offer a hand. He nuzzles you, purring briefly before rushing off.

You hear Yoongi greet the cat in the office and shake your head, though you smile a little bit.

“Can we take Sugar to the vet? I want to make sure he’s a he and that he’s got… whatever shots cats need.” You look up, pausing with a mouthful of toast. Yoongi is hovering near the kitchen, looking over at the cat that is kneading its bed. “I just want to make sure we keep him healthy?”

“Sure-“ You cock your head. “Did you just call the cat Sugar?” Yoongi blushes. You swallow the toast and cough a little, having swallowed too quickly. Yoongi is fast to grab you a glass of water which you take with a grateful glance. “You named him?”

“He looks like a jar of sugar.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it felt weird to keep saying ‘it’ and ‘the cat’ and not having a name.”

“Right.”

“And he’s very sweet.”

“This is true.”

Yoongi’s eyes are soft and round when he looks at you. Your heart melts a little, seeing that gentle flicker in his eyes. You don’t put a name to that look, that little gleam that you know it’s there. You don’t want to jinx it, to give it a name to have it taken away.

Instead, you take another gulp of water. “Let’s make an appointment.”

Week four, no one has claimed Sugar, but Sugar has claimed more space and more toys in your home. A new bag of cat food is on the counter along with a jar of catnip. There is now a basket for Sugar to contain his toys. And a pretty black collar with a little jar and a name.

And a doting Yoongi who walks across the living room with his phone tucked into his shoulder on a business call, carrying the growing-plump feline with him in his arms. He heads towards you, listening to the other voice on the line. He gestures to the fridge, hands full of Sugar.

You push off the counter pulling open the fridge and removing the bottle of Gatorade your boyfriend nods at. You crack the top and a grin spreads across his face. The smile grows when you pull a straw out of the drawer, plop it in and wedge the drink into one of Yoongi’s hands.

Sugar hisses at the disturbance, rolling his head to look at you defiantly.

Yoongi tuts at the cat. “Don’t hiss at mommy.”

Both yours and Yoongi’s attention snaps to one another. Your stomach flips at the term of endearment. It’s just a cat, but Yoongi’s slip – the assignment of a role in the creature’s life, an implication that… he wants to keep the cat too is there.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says absently. He looks at you when he says it, but addresses the person on the phone. “The cat was hissing at my girlfriend.”

There’s laughter on the other line. You open your hands and Yoongi nods, passing Sugar to you. Sugar likes Yoongi more, but he doesn’t mind you either. He rubs his head into the crook of your elbow as Yoongi starts talking about a soundboard that you know nothing about.

“Let daddy work,” you tell Sugar, giving Yoongi a devious grin. He pauses, midsentence, phone pressed to his ears, eyes dark. “How about we watch Sailor Moon, Sugar?”

Week five the ‘cat found’ posters come down.

“Yeah, his name is Sugar,” you tell Jungkook on the phone, crumbling the sheets of paper. Jungkook squeals on the other side of the line. “Do you guys want to come up and see him next weekend?”

Week thirty-three, Sugar sleeps between you and Yoongi on the couch, purring lightly as you drift to sleep, head propped on Yoongi’s shoulder as the credits to Naruto roll.

#min yoongi fanfic #suga bts #bts suga #min yoongi #bangtan boys #bts fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi x reader #non idol au #haliiimedemasterlist #fic: mixtape #yoongi fluff #halis happy agust #halis requests

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ughgoaway · 6 months

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when teacher finds out about the date and sulks a little while babysitting annie..... and annie points it out..... and annie tells matty about the slight change in mood....... and mattys heart skips a bit...........

- 🐈 (is this emoji taken 😅)

not taken yet!! 🐈 is all yours my love <333

but this... is so so good. Annie truly is the mastermind behind your relationship with matty, so this just works so perfectly.

so matty has just left, the door clicked shut and you're still standing in the hallway motionless. Annie has run off to her room to grab a toy to show you and mayhem is lying at your feet, looking up at you with sad eyes.

"Don't you start, mayhem. I'm totally fine with this. so he's going on a date? pffft, who cares!? he deserves to find love. we couldn't ever date anyway, so it's fine... I'm fine." and somehow mayhem manages to give you an unconvinced look, and potters off to the front room.

Annie comes back, and the night begins, and of course, it's fun. spending any time with Annie is fun, but she can tell you're feeling off.

you get lost in your thoughts more than usual, she has to say your name a few times to get your attention. she notices you looking at the photos on the wall with a strange look on your face, sad but not in the way she's used to. a sad yearning almost, but Annie doesn't know what that look is.

you try and be present and chat with annie, keep her happy. but it only works for so long before you start obsessing over this date.

he's been gone 30 mins, and you can't help but wonder what they're doing right now.

is he holding her hand over the table? is he rubbing his thumb gently over her hand as she speaks, nodding and listening intently to her? or maybe they're on the same side of the table. Maybe he's leaned in close with his arm around her shoulder.

or... oh god, what if they didn't even make it to the date? what if matty got to her house, saw how beautiful she was, and just ditched dinner altogether? was he kissing her right now? fucking her?

you were blankly staring in the corner as your mind swirled, and annie knew something was wrong, but she also knew not to ask what.

you manage to salvage the night, and annie honestly has fun. you watch her favourite movie and braid her hair, she shows you all her teddies and you have a tea party.

/////

it's the next day when annie sees matty again, already in bed when he gets home from the date. she's colouring on the floor in his office as matty types away, answering emails and messaging Jamie.

matty sighs heavily and leans back in his chair, stretching his arms and groaning at the feeling of his bones clicking into place. he looks down at his daughter and can't help the smile on his face. Seeing her just sitting with him colouring makes him giddy. he loves this simple domestic time more than anything. Knowing his daughter wants to spend time with him makes his heart swell.

he decides its time for a break and sits on the floor next to annie, she immediately squeals from joy and plops herself in his lap, hands full of drawings to show him.

After a long tour of each peice (a beach scene, a doodle of matty on stage, Ross with a giraffe, Adam with a lion, and finally George talking to the sun), matty asks how her night with you was.

"so how was your night last night peanut? have fun with y/n?" he fiddles with her curls as he talks, twisting her ringlets of hair around his pointer finger.

annie hums thoughtfully before saying, "it was fun. miss y/n seemed a bit sad though" Annie nods as she speaks but doesn't look at her dad, instead focusing on colouring the horse she had just drawn.

fuck. you were sad once he left?? did matty make you sad?? his brain runs through what he said, and he can't think of anything offensive or rude.

"oh. Well that's a shame sweetheart. did she say anything about why?" matty is desperate to find out if this was his fault, and if so- what the fuck did he do this time?

"No, but I didn't ask her why she was sad. but she was looking at photos of us and acting funny"

wait. this wasn't because he went on a date... was it?

because if it was, that would mean there was actually something between you, matty hadn't just been imagining a connection for the last however many months.

even the thought of you feeling weird about him dating made his heart skip a beat. Maybe this could actually happen. maybe he could love you the way he so desperately wants to.

"I can ask her at school tomorrow if you want, Daddy?" Annie sweetly asks, looking up at her dad with questioning eyes.

it's then the world matty had created in his head came crashing down.

ah yes, school.

the same school where you teach his daughter. meaning you could never have a relationship, even if you were in love.

but you're not in love, so does it matter?

well... matty is, but he's pretty sure you couldn't care less about him or his dating life.

"No, no. It's okay, pumpkin. just make sure she's happier on Monday for me, yeah?" Even if matty wasn't the cause for you not acting like yourself, he wanted to fix it.

anything to make you happy, even if it killed him inside.

#hehehe one more emoji anon added to the blog #i feel like im collecting pokemon... i love it #this will be a full blurb/fic at some point!!! i promise!!!#🐈 anon #anon!#teacher au!

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crevicedwelling · 1 year

Note

Of the bugs that molt, do they have increased motion/running when they're getting ready to molt, similar to some reptiles?

bugs that molt = Ecdysozoa = arthropods, nematodes, velvet worms, tardigrades, some other weird little guys. I don’t really know how any behave firsthand except for the arthropods I’ve kept.

sort of depends on the species but in many cases it’s precisely the opposite. tarantulas actually flip on their backs and remain motionless for hours prior to molting, centipedes get very stiff (and turn yellowish due to the new cuticle separating from the old) in premolt and in my experience tend to fast for a good few weeks before ecdysis. millipedes even more so; they’ll burrow as deep as they can and might not come up for another month, sporting a fresh new exoskeleton. some mantises might not move for a day or more if they find a good spot to hang to molt, and like many insects anchor their feet in place before molting so that they can cling to good solid footing—their own exuvia—as they emerge.

(Scolopendra hainanum between molts and one in premolt, with the old yellowed exoskeleton separating)

isopods with their weird biphasic molt are different, and besides the actual process of shedding + 10-30 min of drying, they just get on with their lives before and after. they have it easy! same with things like maggots and other soft-bodied larvae, their exoskeletons are basically thin cellophane and are easy to wiggle out of and it doesn’t slow them down much.

for some aquatic arthropods it’s a bit different, Triops molt by thrashing themselves out of their old skins & it only takes a few seconds sometimes! but for other aquatic creatures with more well developed shells, like lobsters and big crabs, molting is quite laborious and lengthy even with the added support of water.

(Porcellio laevis “Dairy Cow” with his anterior exuvia, Scolopendra hainanum the middle of ecdysis w/ respiratory tract lining “strings” visible)

molting for reptiles literally is shedding some skin, but molting for arthropods is shedding a skeleton and then some! since a soft new exoskeleton is grown beneath the old one, but before it’s shed the animal has to sit inside a now too-small, very rigid suit of armor, I would assume the general pattern is for arthropods to move less before molting. the lining of the respiratory tract and some of the other internal organs that are part of the cuticle also get molted, plus legs/appendages can get stuck in molt, so also best to find somewhere safe and not leave until hardened up!

a good example of this might be cicadas, which emerge from the ground as nymphs, climb to find a perch, and then don’t move at all except for the muscular contractions needed to break free of the exuvia. that’s why cicada shells are often posed in curious ways—they’re a snapshot frozen in time of a cicada’s last moments as a juvenile.

(teneral Neotibicen linnei)

#bugs #cw bugs #centipede #isopods #insect #biology

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little-peril-stories · 8 months

Text

Whumptober 2023, Day 3 & 4: Solitary confinement, shock

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: blood (barely), guilt, arrested, fear, angst (a lot—what else is new?)

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Word count: 600 || Approx reading time: 3 mins

Solitary Confinement

Teaser: There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

"They'll kill me if I'm lucky / They'll torture me if not"

All the scholar could hear was his own rapid, fraying breath.

The panicked rasping.

The frantic gasp of each intake of air as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

Dead. He’s dead.

They’d thrown him inside, heedless of how his sight failed him and his feet stumbled and scrabbled beneath him. Now he lay motionless, tasting blood, pretending that this was all part of his plan. He didn’t move from where he’d fallen.

He’s dead, and I killed him.

He couldn’t move. He barely wanted to. The deed was done; the choice was made.

I’ll distract him, he’d promised.

He’d known what he was sacrificing when he walked into their midst.

Now. Run. Please.

There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

The room was quiet, but it was distinctly unlike the soothing peace of the library where he had spent so many hours of his life. This—this was an ominous quiet, heavy with dread, slippery with promise. The promise—and memory—of death.

Leave him in there, they’d said, until the prince arrives.

The thud of a body striking rough stone rang in his ears. It was only once he was already prone—still reeling from the impact—that the scholar realized it had been his own weary, grief-stricken bones and his own torn skin scraping against the floor.

Let the prince decide what to do with the bastard.

The scholar’s wrists stung, unused to anything harsher than the silk of his shirtsleeves. He wore metal bands now, heavy and pinching and dark, suppressing what little magic he possessed—the only weapon, truly, he had to wield. Snuffed out, as much a prisoner as he.

Magic he’d used to kill a man.

Dead. The word repeated in his mind. The commander was dead, and soon, the scholar would be, too.

Quiet.

So quiet.

Too quiet.

He loved such stillness, usually—relished it. Most of the time, it meant solitude. Solace. The tender whispers of turning pages, muffled footsteps, and contented sighs.

Today, it meant something else:

Death.

He hadn’t meant to.

But he had.

I chose this.

He’d chosen her.

Soon the prince would arrive to decide his fate. He would know what his old tutor had done. He would pass judgment and, in all likelihood, sentence him to death.

I didn’t mean to.

The scholar had written the end of his own story, or rather, he had tried. He could never have imagined that this was where his life would lead him—to an empty, airless holding room, mere corridors from the dungeon cells that would no doubt become his tomb. And what for?

I did it for her.

If he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of her hands in his.

Don’t get hurt, she’d said. A promise he’d known—even as he agreed—he could not keep. He wondered what she would say if she could see him now. If she—more full of fight than he had ever been—would rage and rail to see him prostrate and shaking. Or if, instead, she would merely weep.

Get up, she would urge. Please.

The barest sliver of him wished his cruel, craven mind—soaked with pain and fear and shock and terror—would let him be, that his conscience would simply rest. He almost—almost—wished her voice would just stop.

But if it did, he would be left with the emptiness and silence of the room, and in a sea of fear and foreboding, he would drown.

If it did, the scholar knew, he would never again hear her voice, out loud or in his head, so when death came for him, he would be nothing more than a wretched husk of a man, despised and heartbroken and alone.

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#whumptober2023 #no.3 #no.4 #solitary confinement #shock #oc #original content #fic #arrest tw #murder tw #guilt tw #blood tw #arrested #fear #angst #death mention #lps man of letters

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