❝we're not sluts, we're stress relievers❞
seven submissive boys trying to win the affection of one impenetrable gang godmother with a taste for vengeance and repentance all at the same time.
"llıʍ I 'noʎ ɹoɟ ǝɓuɐɥɔ oʇ ǝɯ ʇuɐʍ noʎ ɟı." - bts
est. 2...
He threw his arms up and celebrated with a ridiculous victory dance. One that he might be embarrassed about if he weren't seemingly alone.
He heard the door of the library open and shut. A soft click sounding behind it, pausing him mid-victory dance.
"Hello?" He said. He was met with silence.
He scrambled to grab his bag and opened it to pull out his mace.
"I-I have a weapon s-so," Namjoon cleared his throat and swallow trying to rid himself of the dryness. "I will hurt you." He mentally patted himself on the back for how steady his voice sounded when his knees were shaking harder than an old man's.
He heard footsteps slowly making their way to the computer station. All the lights in the library and towards the entrance were off so while he could hear the intruder, he couldn't see him.
The footsteps stopped and he heard nothing else, except his own uneven breathing and his heart pounding. He was shaking from head to toe but kept swallowed his fear down and tried to collect a plan on how he was going to escape this situation unharmed and without having to hurt anyone.
It was then the footsteps began to jog towards the computer station and Namjoon's heart stopped.
"S-stop! Don't come a-any closer! I have mace!"
The footsteps grew more frantic, much louder and more threatening; almost as if the owner of the footsteps was on the precipice of losing his or her mind.
At that thought, Namjoon' flight or fight instinct kicked in and he screamed, his eyes scrunched closed in fear as he sprayed the pepper spray blindly in the direction of the footsteps.
He heard a boy-like shriek and a thud. He opened his eyes to find a young man with blonde hair. The boy was breathing deeply in anger, his gaze crazed as he covered his red and leaking right eye with his hand and the other bright blue eye glared at him from the floor.
The boy hissed in pain and frantically rubbed at his eyes before releasing a much louder roar of agony.
Namjoon almost felt bad for the boy, if said boy wasn't holding a switchblade in his other hand.
They both held intense eye contact. The young boy remained knowledge on the floor clutching his injured eye. The silence ran through them both and Namjoon could feel his skin crawl with anticipation. Namjoon swallowed and drew a breath.
"Who are you? G-get out of here!" His voice cracked and he could feel his face heat up as a bright blush of pure embarrassment.
The young man cracked a crooked smile and released a chuckle that shook Namjoon to the very core.
"Don't be scared, sweetheart." He purred, getting up from his position on his knees. He slowly took his hand of his injured eye. Namjoon gasped.
The pupil of the young man's leaking eye was milk white and blurred. Namjoon assumed this man was blind, but he didn't know if it was because of what Namjoon did or something else beforehand.
