#Good old Victorian clutching at one's heart

[hiddenbysuccubi]

THEY SHOULD HAVE KISSED AT THE END.

COWARDS

[rangercorpstherapy]

ok weird question, but like, virginity in these books?? it's the medieval period so it was customary and expected (and scandalous if you don't) to save yourself till marriage but like, Commandant Crowley Meratyn gives off major 'guy who fucks' energy so I supposed that it's just irrelevant??

also Halt and Pauline had sexual tension for 15 fuckin years, and Will and Alyss dated for 7 years, and Gilan and Jenny dated for-- my god they're STILL dating.

someone explain

the view on virginity and sexuality differs between the Early Middle Ages and Late Middle Ages, it also depends on if the subject is nobility or not.

At the start of the Middle Ages, there wasn't as much sexual freedom as nowadays but there was certainly much less taboo on the topic. People were still connected with their old traditions and ways even though they were introduced to/and or practising Christianity. There wasn't as much of a pearl-clutching 'oh no an ankle' sex fear in the Middle Ages as people think. Yes, clergy swore oaths of celibacy and nobility were expected to stay chaste (although this expectation rested more on women than on men). For noble families, it was important to be absolutely sure that that was your baby because you couldn't just do a DNA test. Kinda important if you want to keep the family in power and make sure the bloodline continues undisputed.

Back to the pearl-clutching, it was not sex people were afraid of. There was no taboo on nudity (partly because one didn't have much privacy back then) and sex was even a source of public entertainment, for example in plays or on fairs. It was more pregnancy that was the issue. Bastards weren't treated very well along with their mothers (many choosing to leave their children in orphanages), noble bastards were dealt better cards, they could inherit and would often be seen as valuable enough that they could be used in marriage pacts. This period of vague sex is ok just be careful came to a very abrupt end because of reformations in the Church. Remember what I said about clergy having to be celibate...yeah let's just say they were not doing that. To the point of having 'wives' and kids, not even sneakily, they lived with them in a house, like a family. This was an issue from average priest to bishop. One of the many reforms was meant to make sure that calibates were calibating and put stricter measurements in place. Nuns were forced to live more secluded (before they took a very active role in the life around the convent), and convents became closed off for outsiders. Through efforts from the Pope, sex became demonized and women were presented as evil seductresses and the root of all evil evil desire. I don't think it was the same reforms but around the same time all bastards were stripped of any claim to inheritance and even if fathers claimed them they could not be legitimized. Making having bastards/being one even more taboo.

But even with all that were the Middle Ages not the most anti sex period in western history. The idea of "having sex before marriage is the end of the world and God will strike you down and dance upon your remains we are scared to hold hands with the opposite sex" came during the 16th century with the rise of STDS and would continue well into the Victorian era.

Back to the question.

It's hard to say when RA takes place, having some more modern technology but still having many characteristics of the High Middle Ages (lack of agricultural reforms, strong feudal system and a lack of cities). I am guessing that when RA took place it was around the same time the reforms were spreading (give or take a few decades maybe).

So to finally answer the question:

Crowley is saving himself for nobody, fucked till his heart gave out that's why he died with a smile on his face. Front-row seats to those sex plays at fairs. Always complaining about the good ol' days when you could get laid without some guy in robes and a hat having an opinion about it. Also, he's gay so it's not like he has to worry about populating Araluen with many handsome redhead babies (although he is a bit disappointed he can't be of service in that aspect of course).

Alyss and Will (all the ward kids for that matter) are sooo bastards to me. Bullied by the other kids you say??? Needing special protection or else they would have no one in the world you say??? People knowing they fornicated in the vineyard would not make their reps worse. Those bitches did NOT care, they fucked around day and night and would just get shotgun married if it was necessary. What is anyone going to do? How dare you and your scary wizard boyfriend part of an elite scary people group whom we are all collectively deeply afraid of have sex!

Halt was heir to the throne and probably had some speeches about how not to waste his royal seed on just anyone, to be careful and was so culture-shocked meeting Crowley and Pauline that he needed 15 years to recover.

[pixelatedquarter]

[this one seems written on a typewriter, it smells faintly of cigarettes and bourbon, and the petrichor of an old brick building in the turn-of-equinnox rain. You decide it's best not to question how it got typed onto the page, or how it's fitting into a single page at all]

Day 39 of Tourdust:

The smell of burning tobacco in the wind, chasing the direction of long lost loves and triumphs, reached the office from outside. We had agreed on a policy of no smoking in here, but it added to the atmosphere. Knowledge of recent secrets we would take to our grave weighed heavy on us, feeling like an anchor, or like a curse.

He walked into the offices of the Foblr Agency of Noir Sleuthing, all flowing blonde hair and tight leather hugging his legs. But that didn't matter much to us, not tonight. We could immediately tell his face spelled trouble for the upcoming concert. He fell onto the chair opposite our desk, arm covering those red, teary eyes, devoid in this era of the eyeliner streaks that would surely have covered his cheeks decades prior; roses draped across his chest and shoulders, peeking over the hoodie he carelessly shrugged on. We will never forget the way he wept "The man on my daydreams and nightmares, my cuddly teddy bear, my semi-sweet full time problem, my Patrick has been murdered!", it was mournful like the call of a loon. They say your mind's a safe, and if you keep it then we all get rich. But perhaps loons is what would become of us, for accepting this case.

The drizzle and clouds painted a gloomy mood as we accompanied Pete back to the scene to start our investigation. Despite our best attempts at using this opportunity to get more information on what had happened all we gained were extensive diatribes about how special and talented Patrick was, the tiniest details about him enough to bring a warm smile of reminiscence that soon turned into a frown and tears as he remembered why he was speaking to us and leading us to the venue. Every time one of us would have to take the moment to pat his back and gently get him to calm down before we could carry on, not that many of us minded lending him our handkerchief to dry his tears with. The worst was when in the middle of an anecdote he realized he could not remember, and would not have those good old days again. If home is where the heart is then he was just fucked. Before long we decided it was best to leave well enough alone lest the waterworks broke open again, we were not getting anything out of him anyway.

Our arrival at the venue was interrupted by an altercation as we approached, two security guards denying entry to who we'd come to realize was Joe. The man was waving his arms around, trying to explain he'd just come back and was part of the performing acts, that he should be allowed back in, but it wasn't until Pete broke from the almost Victorian mournful stance he had adopted ever since he’d given up on talking and we’d given up on pressing, and presented his ID to assure security both Joe and us were with him that we'd all be allowed through.

Joe turned to us wild eyed when he realized the state Pete was in and him being accompanied by us. Pete was unable to explain himself, he got as far as telling us he "couldn't bear to-" and then brought one hand to wipe away a tear as he completely changed his train of thought into "Oh, bear. Patrick was a bear.", this past tense was enough to clue Joe in, on what was going on, or perhaps on what was known. After dragging a confirmation out of Pete he made his excuses and left "To process this shit" he'd said.

We were led through the venue's corridors directly backstage, where Pete waved off this tall, delicate man he had apparently trusted enough with securing the scene and dramatically crumbled to the floor on his knees in front of something he immediately picked up, clutching it so tight to his chest we could not at first make out what it was, it was only as he raised it to his face to wipe a tear that we saw it was a green baseball cap, with a dark red, almost black splatter onto one side. Blood. Not too much of it, but the pieces were starting to fall down into place.

"This! This is where it happened! And now this is all I have left of him!" our blonde cried, but every time we asked him to explain he just mumbled to the hat and what little we could make out he had already told us, or was lost in his grief muttering to this hat that he'd do lines of dust and sweat off last night's stage just to feel like it, or himself.

Not knowing what else to do, we used this time to look around. We had expected a corpse to be there, or something, anything more than a single hat. Upon further inspection we did find some more blood, it looked like a short name was written in it, but one of our shoes smudged it as we passed. Some instrument cases and cabling were strewn around. We examined those but nothing was out of the ordinary; flamethrower bass in its place, mic stand completely devoid of blood, although we did not brave turning on a UV lamp around this place. There were a couple of branches off to the side among the drumsticks, which we took note of as being out of place, but for all we knew drumming with branches instead of sticks was going to be a fun new twist in their never-ending series of new and exciting ways to be unhinged.

More pressing than all that was, maybe, the giant shark, that was for some reason just lying backstage, not far from where the lead singer had been murdered and from whom apparently the only thing left of was a baseball cap covered in blood.

The commotion drew Andy's attention, we didn't know where he came from but what we did know was that upon meeting eyes with us he startled for a moment, like he was expecting his existence to go unnoticed, before regaining composure and looking for all the world like he was just as lost about what had happened to Patrick as everyone else. But a moment is all it took for us to take note, we said nothing of the way his quiet seemed usual yet his demeanor did not, but deep down our suspicions started to take root, for as much as the situation called for seriousness, a man like him would not have passed up the opportunity to incite or set up even a single joke, if nothing else to lighten up the mood.

He noticed we were staring at this giant shark, the one that was, again, for some reason just lying backstage, not far from where the lead singer had been murdered and from whom apparently the only thing left of was a baseball cap covered in blood; and said, all smiles like it was only natural that the most pressing question in our minds would be the well-being of this sea creature "The shark is fine. It is a vegan land shark, don't worry about it. He's a friend of mine."

That, however, did prove useful to our line of thinking.

"So, it doesn't eat meat? Aren't sharks obligate carnivores?" we asked, to clarify the elephant, or rather, shark, in the room.

"Nope, not land sharks. They're good with veggies, this one really likes pumpkins!"

To say we didn't trust this statement would be putting it lightly. But they both looked so polite. We couldn't just accuse him of bullshitting us. We certainly couldn't just accuse him of having killed Patrick with a shark.

Having finished our investigation of the scene, and I refuse to waste ink with details about how the presence of a (step)ladder sparked a brief but passionate argument between us, we turned our attention back to Pete, who seemed to have calmed down enough that we could lend him a hand to stand up so we could hopefully continue this investigation.

He accepted the proffered hand, murmuring something about how he should have bought those knee pads months ago and led us towards the rest of the venue to take a look, never loosening his grip on the hat.

We were running out of ideas, we were running out of time. There was very little new in the way of clues we'd gathered outside the scene of the crime other than a few more dramatically tearful anecdotes, the internet service was shit with no way of contacting the outside, and to make matters worse things had taken a turn ever since Bubbles spotted us and decided to growl at us.

"I heard you were not against using unconventional methods to get results." Pete said. For a second we thought he wanted us to, let's just say, bend the law to get to the bottom of this. We'd have been willing to, albeit largely unfamiliar with the Dutch legal system. But of course it was never this simple with him. He quickly produced a beautiful Ouija board, all dark wood and with a planchette that looked like it was meant to fit with Joe's incredibly sexy guitar, and all but begged to let us try this method to contact Patrick.

Devoid of any further clues or options, we agreed. Might as well put some of the candles to good use for things other than shrines to the Malibu MILF Jesus For Gay People. We let Pete conduct the session, and he brought Andy and Joe along to it, but they resolutely refused to join in. We thought they would have, for the sake of humouring Pete or for the sake of hiding what they knew. Or perhaps they didn't join to dissuade any accusations of messing with the board to clear themselves.

The board was set right where Pete found the hat, which he reluctantly had to stop clutching to his heart and set aside to actually conduct the session. The candles were lit and we all held hand with him before he started.

"Patrick, please, if you're here, give me a sign, I'm looking for your name on the Ouija board, not like, hit me baby one more time. Or, actually, like, if you want to hit me to let me know you're here that would also be fucking okay."

Now, not to discount the existence of anything beyond the veil or anything, but hopes were not exactly high for anything to come out of this. We thought we were just doing a kindness to a very distressed man. We did not think the planchette would move at all, let alone be pulled with quite the intent to, somewhat clumsily, spell P-A-T-R-I-C-K. Our eyes were trained on Pete, certain he had to be fucking with us, moving this himself. But his expression was too genuine, he couldn't fake this. He's too shitty an actor for that and we knew that.

Before he could ask a second question, the planchette started moving again. For a moment there we held our breath as it slowed near the S, but it moved a little further to the G and thus continued spelling G-O-L-D-E-N-C-A-T-C-H before very resolutely going towards the goodbye sign and staying there, no matter what else was asked of it.

Dejected at having lost this last line of contact, Pete led the closing goodbyes, snuffed out the candles and picked the hat again clutching it with both hands over his chest once more, sobbing quietly.

Despite our instincts to not take too much stock on the answers of an Ouija board, we found ourselves mulling over the message. Golden catch. Our minds turned to Donnie, the catcher. To Andy, who seemed to be having the same idea and was suddenly the picture of shy adorable nerd who has sworn off violence and would never hurt a fly, much less his beloved friend. But maybe these friends, rather than being golden, rather than being stars, they had turned out to be black holes. After all, the stars that burn the brightest end up turning into them, in the end.

What we all had confused as another wave of thankfully quieter and less theatrical crying, however, turned out to be Pete thinking. When he spoke up, his voice was strained.

"Joe. What was your favourite song in the current album?"

"Huh, what? Kintsugi Kid, you know this. You asked me the other night again when we were deciding on 8 balls"

"Shh, I don't know what you're talking about, The Magic 8 Ball decides on what we're playing itself, we have no power over it. But you know, the kintsugi thing? they do that with like, gold to fill in the cracks. Like Golden."

That's when we understood where he was going with this, he understood the message with a logic we could never comprehend, the cryptophasia working seemingly even from beyond the grave. It dawned on Joe too. He paled first, then winced with grief, finally settling on a sigh of relief.

"Fuck, you will really believe me if I admit it now. You won't think I'm just trying to protect Andy or I'm just saying it because somebody should please take me to solitary confinement so I can finally rest." His head hung low, and he took a pause to try and compose himself before speaking again "It is true. I killed him. It was a stupid accident I swear, I was fucking around with Andy's drumsticks and- and I thought it would be funny to chuck one to Patrick's head and act like it was Andy who did that." at this he had to pause, voice increasingly trembling "I- I didn't think i threw it that hard but then when I came back you were a mess and you had brought backup to investigate and you kept talking about Patrick in the past tense-"

It was then that a voice echoed from the hall "Okay, no. We're not leaving Joe to forever rest in an Amsterdam jail. He's not even a drummer, he would not even get to enjoy the acoustic-"

Whatever Patrick was going to say next was interrupted by Pete launching himself to the man and clinging with a kind of desperation that seemed 14 years too old and putting the hat back where it belonged amidst half coherent mumblings of being glad he was okay. A few of us swore he sneaked in a kiss to the temple as he did so, but the rest us remain unconvinced chalking it up to wishful thinking, or maybe tinfoil thinking, or maybe we were still reeling trying to understand how this seemingly physical apparition, no, this seemingly *alive* Patrick had shown up out of nowhere.

Besides, in line with all we had been suspecting and in contrast to Pete's joyful disbelief, the other two seemed stuck in a frozen state. Staring at a scene that in itself we were sure should not have incited that much shock.

After what seemed to be some time of just letting Pete have his moment, Patrick managed to wrestle himself out of the cuddle he was being held in enough to point at Joe and throw, thankfully metaphorical, daggers at him "I'm still pissed that you threw the drumsticks at me! It's been more than twenty years will you ever stop cutting my face open with instruments? and you!" he pointed at Andy "What the hell did you throw your shark next to me for!?"

"He got stuck on top of my tree and I felt guilty so I tried to help him down. Then I heard you scream and I panicked, assumed you were now a pile of goo under my friend and if I have to miss my wedding because of manslaughter Mere would make sure I'd be the man slaughtered, and I couldn't have that" he shrugged "I felt really bad about it though."

Pete pulled him and Joe to join the hug, and after thinking about it hummed "Patrick, if you weren't horrifically murdered by a series of crazy accidents that, really, could not happen to any other band, where were you? where were you even hiding?"

Patrick sighed with the weary expression of someone whose job description has unofficially included the title of Pete Wentz wrangler for over twenty years and considered him for a moment, as if wandering at the mystery that is the Wentzian logic "Everything was too chaotic and I kept getting almost horrifically murdered" he paused to give him a meaningful look and add air quotes at that "So I went below the stage to play Pokemon. You know there's space there, remember that time you shot me out of a cannon from below the stage? If you really needed me you could have looked for me. Maybe instead of assuming I was dead."

Pete suddenly tore away from basking in finally having gotten the hug he'd been spending months begging for, startled by a realization "Wait a fucking second! If you are alive and here, what did I contact with the Ouija board?!"

Patrick merely chuckled, he didn't answer but he sneakily flashed a magnet into our field of vision and winked. It was perhaps the deadliest weapon all day.

At long last we were accompanied out by all four of them, we let out a long sigh as we walked away from the venue, ready to go back to our office and rest after this chaotic evening. But when Pete called out to us and waved, what he said next would leave a chill down our spine:

"Hope we see you all again soon, bye! Hey, and Spi? Don't even think to try and kill my dear honey boo boo again okay?"

All this time. He knew everything.

[alexthefly]

Just In Case

My first ever attempt at the @flashfictionfridayofficial challenge. It's a bit ropey, but it's a thing that exists, so yay progress!

Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds Are Go

Word count: 999

Rating: teen

Warnings: Kissing, brief mentions of alcohol and poor mental health.

...

“Now boys, promise me you’ll be good for your mother. Mind your manners, do your chores - all that good stuff, okay?”

An enthusiastic chorus of “Yes Sir”s - together with Scott’s attempt at a salute - and Jeff was compelled to bend down for one last hug with his two tiny Tracys. For a moment he soaked in the smell of soap in his sons’ hair, the feeling of little arms wrapped around him, and of sticky wet kisses on his cheeks.

His heart ached.

Finally he rose again. “Alright boys,” he said, clearing his throat, “to your duties. Dismissed!”

And with that they were gone, racing past their mother on their way to whatever adventure Scotty had convinced Virgil to go on with him today.

“Stay in the yard you two,” Lucy called after them before walking over to Jeff, holding his hold-all. “I packed your father’s penknife for you,” she said, “just in case.”

Jeff took the bag and kissed her on the cheek. “You didn’t need to do that, Honey. Lee's got all the tools we could possibly need on board.”

“I know,” she replied, shrugging. “It’s just in case.”

He chuckled. 

Her favourite phrase.

“Alright then; just in case.”

*

“Promise you’ll write?” she asked as they got to the front door.

Jeff turned back, eyebrow raised.

“Write? Is this Victorian England? We have holo’s; I can just call you.”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “It’s just it’s so far, and comms can be unreliable-”

Jeff laughed. “Those same comms you want to send emails through?”

Lucy scowled up at him. “Don’t be an ass, Jeff! I just meant you’ll be so busy, and trying to match up Moon/Earth timezones and stuff, it’s easy to miss each other. I just thought… just in case… it might…”

She huffed and looked at the ground, as if the right words might be scattered down there, and he felt a fresh wave of love for his remarkable, bewildering wife, whose brain was so much quicker than her mouth; who got flummoxed and tongue-tied even as she was thinking circles around you. Trying to keep up with her was like trying to keep pace with a whirlwind. 

But god didn’t he just love trying?

His clever, clever Lucy, unfathomable and completely fascinating. 

Gently, he reached out and brushed her flushed cheek, willing her to look at him.

“It might…?” he prompted.

Brown eyes met grey. Something brief and inscrutable passed across her face, then she smiled.

“Well…” She cleared her throat. “I just thought it might be something to look back on one day, when we’re old and grey, remembering when we were parted lovers. Like those love letters you see in movies sometimes.”

“Uh-huh. And you thought I’d be ‘leading man material’, huh?” He grinned, puffing out his chest.

“Shuddup,” she grumbled, batting his arm. “Remind me again, how are you planning to fit that ego of yours inside that tiny rocket?”

“Ouch. Kick a man on his way out the door, why don’tcha?” He staggered, clutching his chest and feigning a grievous wound, eliciting giggles. 

“Oh yes, definitely got the ‘leading man’ theatrics down!”

“I’m telling Lee you called his rocket ‘tiny’, by the way.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

An eyebrow. “Try me.”

She went to bat him again but this time he caught her and, holding her in his arms, kissed her softly, tenderly, committing it to memory.

As they finally pulled apart, he saw the flush in her cheek was back. Not ready to completely let her go just yet, he cupped her face in his hand to admire it. He thought of the cherry blossoms in the orchard, just beginning to bud, and how the pair of them had walked together amongst them as he’d shown her the deployment papers. He’d lamented the fact he’d miss the full, floral display this year, even as he thought about what else he would miss...

“Alright Honey,” he said, holding her close, “if you write to me I promise I’ll write back. Write and tell me everything that’s going on at home. I want to hear all about what Meryl was gossiping about at the car-wash, or how much pork has gone up at the market, or exactly how much of an idiot Sheriff Buckley made of himself at the county fair.”

“You’re making fun of me,” she said, pouting.

“I promise I’m not, darlin’.” He took her face in his hands and looked her square in the eye. “I want to know everything. Tell me how Dad’s making a nuisance of himself trying to fix every fencepost around the place. How Mom won’t stop bringing you casseroles and you’re running out of places to hide ‘em.”

Lucy choked back a giggle.

“Write and tell me about every adventure and every scrape the boys get into. Let me know every single thought that goes through that beautiful mind of yours. I want to hear everything. Every moment. Don’t miss out a single thing - write it all. And one day we’ll read them together, side by side in the nursing home, surrounded by grandkids. Okay?”

“...Okay.”

-------------

All was quiet in the villa. Padding softly over to check the lock, Jeff returned to his screen and, after gathering himself together, brought up the hidden file.

The last time he’d looked at it, he’d not been in a good place. There had been whisky. It wasn’t… It was a mistake.

He was better now. His boys had pulled him through. 

Together they’d found a new purpose.

It was time.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the file. 

“Dear Jeff, how are you doing? I hope Lee isn’t driving you too mad yet. Virgil cut another tooth today…”

One last gift from his clever, clever wife, who’d known that not every love story ends in the nursing home. Who’d realised that one day one of them might need something to help remember the good times.

A contingency plan.

Just in case.

[bluerasbunny]

scampers in :3 ( au game !! )

⭐️

and !!!

📓

OOBHH THIS IS A GOOD ONE.. so i'm going to do all 3 of my main AUs

⭐️ - Favorite AU character design?

VKTRS; Definitely Sun's design! There's something so vibrant and fun about the blue/yellow combo!! His rays can be a pain (and I always end up forgetting his earrings), but I think I nailed it with his color palette and outfit design!

ICHOROUS MELODY; Moon! Ok, yeah, he's a basic pale vampire with red eyes and black hair but the sallowness of his skin and his almost skeletal appearance is so fun to draw! Not to mention the victorian era fashion!

CAROUSEL WALTZ; The Yellow Rabbit! No further comments.

📓 - Show us a current WIP for your AU!

Under the cut!

VKTRS;

"Our dearest night host does have quite the eye for you." That brings you pause. A puzzled expression crosses your face, brows furrowed at the phone as if Day can see your every minute gesture. "And, I must say, I do see why. You're a curious little thing. Quite the mystery yourself! But some things are better left alone." You sit silent, staring forwards at the wall in front of you. "Some things, sweetheart, are not meant to be." Your heart pounds, ears ringing faintly. "Some places are places you should not be." Day pauses, as if to let his words sink in. His voice rings, swallows your mind and replaces thought with adrenaline.

-------------

ICHOROUS;

"Most unfitting for a God-honoring man." Sun drawled, a low tease smooth on his silken voice. Moon chuckled into his glass, blood sweet on his tongue. He indulged, for a moment, the image that it's Suns, the taste of saltwater and the richness of iron. "My apologies. I hadn't realized you were a devout Christian." Sun barked out a laugh, bowing forwards with a grin. His teeth glistened in the candlelight, half-empty glass loose in his clutch. Would the liqour flavor his blood, too? "Far from it. You and I are deep below what God would claim as his own." He replied, drunken smile lopsided and messy and beautifully impure. Can a vampire die a second time?

-------------

WALTZ;

"Now I will tell you a story." The moon's light cast a sickly glow over Eclipse. Its face crinkled with glee, calm and wise and old as time. Eclipse nods, slow, urging it to continue in eager silence. "A story about a mournful actor, in a place he did not choose to be. A place he was unhappy in. Desperate to cope, the actor split himself down into three. The first piece, a radiant light intent on joy, falls into a dream and disappears into the dark. The second piece, dark and simmering, traps all the worlds light in a cage, until all that's left is a dark eternal night. The third piece seeks to put them back together. They chase the rabbit that leapt into the moon. They're trapped in the rabbits endless orbit forever." Silence echoes through the forest. Eerie, calm and unsettling in Eclipse's core, eyes wide and lit with a sickly blend of confusion and recognition. Eclipse breathes out a shaky question, meek and alight with a whirlwind of thought. "What?" "Good night, Eclipse."

[chudleycanonficfest]

For Good

Day 5, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: For Good Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron & Harry Prompt: Brother from another mother / Song Fic Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): A small amount of peril

They should have known the fight wasn’t going to go their way when they entered the warehouse, but determined to prove their skills as newly graduated Aurors, Harry and Ron barrelled ahead anyway. And now, only ten minutes later, the chaos of the fight is overwhelming them.

Five rogue Death Eaters have backed them into a corner. The rest of the Auror team are here, somewhere, but despite Harry’s loud pleas, nobody comes to save them.

Harry’s heart pounds in his chest as he clutches hold of his best friend. Curses whoosh above their heads, crashing into the stone wall behind them. The taste of dust from the rubble dries his mouth. There has only ever been one other time he’s felt like this, desperate and out of his depth, and he died then, too. 

He is expecting the outcome of this fight to be the same.

There’s so much Harry still has to do. He doesn’t want to die yet. Harry wants children and the chance to have a family with the woman he loves. He hasn’t waited nervously at the top of an aisle for Ginny’s appearance in a white dress to take his breath away. Heck, he hasn’t even had a chance to propose. There are still rooms in their new cottage that they have yet to christen.

It’s too soon. The redhead beside Harry cringes against the wall. Ron still has his whole life ahead of him too.

A purple curse hits Harry square in the chest, stealing the last of the breath from his lungs. His body grows rigid, but his cry echoes around them.

Ron calls out, shielding his friend with his own body as he clutches Harry’s dirty robes. “Harry! No!” 

“Ron,” Harry croaks. “What’s happening?”

“Stay with me, Harry. You’re going to be okay.”

The room around them is growing dark. This is the end.

“I just want to say thank you, Ron. For everything. You didn’t have to be my friend that first day on the Hogwarts Express, but you took me on and let me be a part of your family. And then, you even allowed me to date Ginny.”

“I don’t think—”

Harry can’t let his best friend interrupt this, not when there are so many important things he needs to say before he breathes his last breath. “I just want you to know.” He inhales deeply, coughing as a cloud of dust fills his lungs. “B-because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

A hack takes over his body, burning his throat as he fights with his last grasp on consciousness. The light dims, so Harry chooses to focus on Ron’s deep ocean blue eyes staring back at him, concern pouring out of them as they sparkle with tears.

And then Harry sees no more.

⁂

Warmth shines on Harry’s face. Nothing hurts, and none of the usual thoughts troubles him. 

Everything is good.

When he first opens his eyes, he expects to see King’s Cross station and Headmaster Dumbledore waiting to ask Harry if he wants to move on or stay behind. Harry’s not sure if he’d like to be a ghost. He hasn’t had much time to think about it, which is quite peculiar for a man who always seems to be on the edge of death. He hopes Dumbledore will congratulate him on a good job again. Harry quite liked that before.

But instead of the beautiful Victorian arches and pale green benches hidden behind a light smattering of ethereal fog, all Harry sees is white. No kindly old mentor waits to greet him, and there’s no squawking corpse of his enemy there to help him ponder the real meaning of life.

So this is what dying is really like?

At least it’s cosy wherever he is. The bed he lies on is comfortable, and crisp, white sheets envelop his body. A steady beep fills his ears, and it smells clean. He’s going to like it here. Harry is about to close his eyes and drift back off to sleep for a while longer—he has all the time in the world now, after all—but a long, black blurry shape appears in front of him. As he grows more awake, he can hear other things, like the shuffle of papers and the scratch of a quill against parchment.

With a frown and a groan, Harry tries to sit up, but the action hurts, and he gives up before he’s even given it an honest try.

The blur speaks to him. “Stay there, mate. You’ve had a bad few hours.”

“Glasses?” Harry manages to croak through dry, chapped lips. “Where are my glasses?” 

If he’s still alive, he at least deserves to be able to see correctly. The shape presses a familiar metal into his hand, and gingerly, Harry lifts them to his face. Forms become sharper as the world finally shapes into focus.

“Welcome back.” Ron beams down at him. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours.”

Harry’s confused. “W-what happened?”

“Ah, mate.” Relief floods Ron’s face. “It was awful. Selwyn and his buddies cornered us, and I thought we were done for, especially when they hit you with that curse. Fuck knows what that was—the Healers were utterly stumped. You were fucking paralysed, Harry.

“They were about to hit me with the same thing when Smythe and the others finally found us, the lazy gits. They arrested everyone. Otherwise…” The redhead trails off with a sigh. He pauses, a mournful look crossing his face. After a moment, he shakes whatever thoughts are haunting him out of his head, and his usual lopsided grin reappears. “Anyway, I managed to grab you and Apparate us out of there. Brought you straight here.

“The healers are still running tests, but I think you’re going to be okay.”

Harry nods, memories of the fight roaring back into his mind. He scrunches his eyes tightly closed, trying to ignore the throb of pain. Maybe he bashed his head? Then with a groan, his final words to Ron echo, like the final moments of a love film.

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

“Paralysed, was I?”

“Yeah, I was trying to get you to move your fingers and your legs and stuff but nothing. Although it, uhm, it didn’t shut you up. You couldn’t stop talking.” Ron’s ears turn pink, and he takes a sudden interest in the top left corner of Harry’s sheets.

Harry’s not sure he wants his friend to repeat whatever he said. The memories are cringe-worthy enough. “Oh?” he questions anyway, inwardly kicking himself as the word falls out of his mouth.

A silent nod confirms Harry’s suspicions that whatever he thinks he said was actually spoken. Ron doesn’t say anything else. A flicker of movement from a diagnostic charm distracts both their attention, and Harry’s best friend glances up at the door with glassy eyes. He clears his throat before finally looking back at Harry.

“So, I owled Ginny and Hermione. And Mum, of course. Now I know you’re not going to die, I think I’ll go and wait outside for them. They’ll want to see you, and I don’t think Mum will do well trying to battle the Welcome Witch for an answer this afternoon. Plus, if anyone hears that the famous Harry Potter is in here, we’ll never get a moment’s peace.”

“Sure, thanks, mate.”

Harry closes his eyes again, letting the sound of trainers squeaking against the linoleum track Ron’s movements towards the exit. To Harry’s surprise, a surge of disappointment tugs at his heart. He confessed his true feelings to his best friend, told him how much he means to him, and got nothing back.

“Oh, and Harry?” 

Ron’s voice breaks through Harry’s brooding, causing the wizard’s eyes to shoot open as he lifts his head from his pillow just enough to glance at his best friend. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” Ron’s grin widens, and there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Just wish you didn’t wait until you were on your deathbed to say it.” 

The ginger git’s glowing pink ears disappear before Harry can even reply. Harry sinks back into his bed, a small smile crossing over his lips. 

He knew it.

[salazarslytherin]

happy days (f.w x gn!y/n)

requested: nope! send in your own requests here!

summary: in which fred takes y/n on a special date

cw/tw: like maybe 0.5% angst, 99.5% fluff

word count: 2.9k

🃛 masterlist!

a/n: i'm pretty sure reader is gender neutral in this one! i made sure not to use any pronouns or prominent mentions to y/n's body or anything. i really hope y'all like it, i don't really ever write fluff so i hope it's good! please leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost xx

“Jump!”

“What?! Are you insa-”

⚔︎.

It was probably a bad idea to be doing this. Actually, it was most definitely a bad idea to be doing this. But when has a ‘bad’ idea ever deterred the infamous Fred Weasley? In fact, the thought of anyone calling one of his ideas ‘bad’ just spelt encouragement in Fred’s mind.

You’d learnt that lesson two months into meeting the Weasley twins, and it’s only engrained itself in your mind further since. There’s never been a point to try to dissuade Fred, it’s best to just go along and hope the ride isn’t too bumpy along the way. After dating Fred, these bad ideas had expanded themselves to different categories- risky places to be intimate, weird ways to cheer you up with confessions of love, and dangerously stupid dates.

The last category was where today’s bad idea landed.

⚔︎.

Three days ago, Fred had the “most ingenious, marvellous, uniquely exciting date idea Hogwarts has ever seen!” He’d disappeared in the middle of lunch, dragging George along with him, mumbling to himself, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner!”, leaving you confused, sat alone in the Great Hall.

“Where are they going?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione popped up behind you, seating themselves down in the twins’ now deserted seats.

“I have absolutely no clue.”

⚔︎.

That’s how you found yourself here, two days later. A Saturday, you were all set to go on a Hogsmeade trip with some of your Ravenclaw friends when Fred ambushed you. Popping up out of a closet and scaring the living lights out of you, he dragged you behind him, laughing as you shouted at him.

“Freddie! What are you doing? I’m supposed to go meet Renee and the others right now!”

Regardless of the fact that Fred was making you miss plans you’d already made, you were beaming from ear to ear.

“Georgie’s already told ‘em you can’t make it. Now hurry up

This being your OWLs year, you’d hardly had the time to see Fred this term, busy studying while he went off doing whatever it was he did when you weren’t around. Being a year younger meant he had already studied everything you’d studied, and while he offered to help you a lot, you’d rather he go have fun than sit around revising old material with you.

Combined with the Triwizard Tournament and the fact that the twins saw this as the golden opportunity to sell products to customers other than Hogwarts student, you’d only had three dates in the almost three months since school had started.

“Where in the name of Merlin are you bringing me, Fred!”

“You’ll see soon enough darling!”

⚔︎.

Soon enough turned out to be ten minutes later, the two of you panting as you’d finally made it all the way across to the other side of the castle and up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

The sun was shining brightly down upon the two of you, the tall windows welcoming the late November winds into the room. A chest sat next to one of the ledges, Fred finally letting go of your hand for the first time in ten minutes, reaching down to open it.

He took a piece of cloth out, closing the chest before you could sneak a peek at the contents, tucking the wooden box under his arm.

“Is this the brilliant date idea you were talking about the other day? I’m not going to lie to you Freddie, cloth doesn’t really scream ingenious to me. In fact, it seems like you brought me up here to clean.”

Raising your eyebrows at the ginger, you gestured at the fabric in his hand as he laughed at you, stepping up onto the ledge.

“Fred? What’re you doing?!”

The boy turned towards you, holding out a hand.

“Come up here.”

Your eyes widened.

“No! Are you insane?”

Fred’s hand faltered a bit, arm relaxing against his body as he looked into your eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

Silent, you stepped up next to Fred, clinging onto his hip and arm, knees shaking slightly at the height you were at.

“I trust you with my life.”

Adjusting the chest under his arm, Fred pulled you into his embrace.

“That’s good to hear. Because it’s time.”

He looked down, dropping the piece of cloth, before tilting your head up to look at him, stepping one foot off the ledge and into the skies.

“Jump!”

“What?! Are you insa-”

You were cut off by screams erupting from your mouth as the ground disappeared below you- Fred pulling you with him, laughter bubbling from his chest.

“Oh my God, I’m going to die-”

You reached the ground a lot quicker than you’d thought possible, your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the imminent death that would come.

Instead, you felt a weird, soft surface, almost like a water bed, rippling under you as you landed on your knees.

“Am I in heaven?”

Your eyes opened slowly, eyes meeting the clouds around you, only for a shadow to cover the sights surrounding you.

“No, but I think I am.”

A kiss landed on your lips as you fell back on the odd surface, Fred falling on top of you.

The kiss was short and sweet, but quickly forgotten as you remembered what had happened moments prior, hitting Fred on the chest as you took in your surroundings.

The surface you had landed on wasn’t a surface at all- in fact it was, a rug? It looked eerily similar to the cloth Fred had thrown off the tower earlier, only, about thirty times bigger, and flying.

You looked at Fred, confused. The tall ginger boy beamed back at you, gesturing grandly.

“Welcome, to your very own magic carpet ride!”

⚔︎.

After lecturing Fred on how incredibly dangerous the start of the date had been, you finally had the chance to process the reality of the date.

“Where are we going, then, on this magic carpet ride?”

The boy hummed, pulling out blankets and a pillow from the, now enlarged, chest, spreading them around the carpet that was hovering near the tip of the Astronomy Tower, awaiting further instruction from the two of you.

“Well first, I was thinking we could stop by Hogsmeade to get some snacks, maybe buy some of the Christmas gifts you wanted to go get today, then we’re flying off to explore Scotland! Well, the part of Scotland we’re in, anyways. Just for a few hours, then we’ll be back to watch the sunset.”

He looked at you for approval, which you granted with a wide smile.

“That sounds beautiful Fred.”

⚔︎.

Walking around Hogsmeade, Fred had shrunk the rug and tucked it into his pocket, the chest shrunk even smaller than it had been the first time you’d seen it.

“Alright, so I think you’ve gotten enough sugar quills to last you a lifetime. Where to next?”

Chewing on a sugar quill, you scrunched your nose in his direction, pulling him into the quaint little jewellery shop you liked to frequent.

The little old lady who owned the place was one you’d become acquainted with over the past five years, Mrs Kingston never minded that you rarely bought anything, understanding that most of her second-hand jewellery was still quite pricey for a student to afford.

Still, you tried your best to save up and buy the pieces you really liked. Recently, you’d been eyeing a necklace, a simple Celtic knot on a thin chain that shone brightly no matter how much light lit up the room. Mrs Kingston explained to you it was an old betrothal necklace, oft seen in pureblood families back in the Victorian era. It’s now seen worn by a lot of the heirs of these old families- in fact, you’d spotted Draco wearing an heirloom similar to it.

“Mrs Kingston!”

“Hello y/n, how are you?”

Fred nodded at the woman as he shuffled around the shop, looking in the display cabinets with vague interest whilst the two of you made small talk.

Your eyes wandered the familiar glass cabinet, landing on the soft velvet that was empty of the familiar Celtic knot, furrowed brows returning to meet Mrs Kingston's clouded eyes.

“The necklace!”

The woman nodded sadly, looking just as dejected as you felt.

“I'm sorry dearie. A boy came in a while ago to buy it. Might've been one of the ones you came with a few weeks back.”

Your head hung low, muttering out a soft 'oh' as she explained to you, nodding in response.

“It's okay Mrs Kingston. I'll see if there's something else I'd like to save up for instead. Thanks, see you next time!”

Thinking back to the last Hogsmeade trip when you'd come down to the shop, your heart lifted a bit, a smile returning to your face as you turned to face Fred.

“Alright, let's head to the bookstore.”

⚔︎.

The ginger's hand clutched yours tightly, the two of you cuddling under the thick blanket as you flew around mountains, pointing out animals, both magical and non-magical, that you'd seen around the place.

Fred looked at you quizzically. Since leaving Mrs Kingston's, you had seemingly forgotten the necklace. Even more, it seemed like you'd gotten happier since finding out someone had gotten the necklace. During the lunch you two had gotten at the Three Broomsticks, the both of you finding Madam Puddifoot's a bit nauseating, you were practically bouncing on your heels as you spoke to some of your friends about the upcoming Christmas celebrations.

“I thought you'd be more upset that the necklace is gone, I remember you talking about how much you liked it last time.”

You shrugged, a wider smile gracing your lips as you looked at him, nuzzling further into his chest.

“I love it! That's why I'm so happy Cedric got it for me. ”

Fred halted, pushing you away from him.

“I-, what! Why would Diggory be getting you a betrothal necklace?!”

You looked up at your boyfriend, furrowing your brows at his outburst.

“What! You know Ced's one of my best friends. Remember when we came to the shop a few weeks back? You, George and Lee were goofing around and then just bolted while I was telling Ced about the necklace. I guess he just came back to get it for me.”

Fred huffed, rolling his eyes as he heard you talk about Cedric, pulling away from you more.

“How could you be this blind!”

You looked at Fred, a bit hurt that he'd lost his temper at you for no reason.

“Why are you getting so worked up over this? It's not like he's proposing to me!”

The boy scoffed, throwing his hands up into the air.

“Well, it's clear that he'd do it without a thought! The boy's in love with you! That's the only reason why anyone would get you something that expensive!”

You laughed frigidly, shaking your head at how irrational your boyfriend was being, pushing the blanket off of you to move away from him.

“What, he can't just have gotten me the necklace because I'm a good friend? Merlin Fred, he's the only one who's actually been with me to go see the necklace, and is the only one who would logically know to get me the necklace.”

You turned to look him in the eye, your jaw clenching as he turned red.

“Besides, Cedric knows me best.”

Fred let out a frustrated 'ugh!', and grabbed the wooden chest that he'd charmed to stay in one corner, grumbling under his breath.

“You think Diggory's the one who knows you best? You think that he's the only one that could have gotten you the bloody necklace?”

A velvet box was brandished from somewhere deep in the chest, Fred propping it open to reveal a dazzling silver necklace, reflecting the afternoon sun into your eyes.

“The. I don't understand. But how?”

Fred snapped the box shut, moving to kneel in front of you.

“As I said just now, I know you best.”

He popped open the box again, this time moving to remove the necklace from the velvet, lifting it fully into the sunlight.

“I was listening when you were talking to Diggory, and even though I'd run away that day, I knew exactly what you wanted.”

He shuffled behind you, unclasping the necklace to bring it around your front.

“I said that he's in love with you, which I still think is true, by the way, and that's the reason why he would have possibly gotten it for you, is because I love you, and that's why I got it for you.”

The chain clipped around your neck, the cool metal contrasting your warm skin as Fred leaned down to press a kiss above the clasp, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Freddie, I had no idea.”

You spun around to face your boyfriend, pressing a deep kiss to his lips, hands landing on his neck to pull him impossibly closer to yourself.

“Clearly. I had this whole plan! All foiled by your cluelessness. I was going to wait until sunset, with the scenery all around us, then surprise you with it and ask you to be my date to the Yule Ball!”

You looked at Fred, your mouth falling open in shock.

“But you just had to bring up Cedric, and how he 'knows you best'. Maybe you should go with him to the Ball.”

You chuckled at the childishness of the Weasley boy in front of you, the pout framing his lips deepening as you laughed at him.

“Well then maybe you should go with Angie, I'm sure she'd be happy to have you.”

Fred gasped loudly, shocked at the audacity of you bringing up his old crush.

“Don't you even dare suggest that.”

⚔︎.

“How did you think of all this?”

The boy shrugged, opening the chest, to pull out a thermos. You were sat above the Black Lake, watching the setting sun on the horizon ahead, red bleeding into orange and blue.

“Honestly, I’m ashamed it took me so long. Remember this summer when you had me ‘round your place and we watched Aladdin with your parents?”

You nodded, fluffing the pillows to make yourself more comfortable, the setting sun casting shadows on the Weasley boy, making him look even more handsome than usual, if that was even possible.

“At that time, I’d already thought that the magic carpet seemed awfully similar to a broom. Then, that day at lunch some firstie was humming that one song they sang when flying the blasted thing, and I thought, blimey! Why didn’t I think to just recreate the bloody thing! So, here we are.”

While talking, Fred spread the thick blanket to cover more of you, pouring hot chocolate out of the thermos he’d brought into mugs that he’d gotten without you knowing, both shaped in little hearts.

“D’you, um, d’you like it?”

Handing the pink mug to you, a sheen of red descended on your boyfriend’s cheeks, not just from the cold, but also fear and embarrassment, scared you didn’t like the date he’d spent the last three days planning.

“I love it!”

You leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on Fred’s lips, leaving traces of cocoa on them.

“But I didn’t love the part where you made me think I was plunging sixty feet to my death!”

The boy groaned playfully, lying back onto the carpet with his head hanging over the edge.

“I know! I’m sorry! I just thought it’d be exciting! A nice surprise! Besides, did you really think I’d let my lovely little Y/N die? I need you around darling.”

You scoffed, sipping on the hot cocoa as you stared at the Astronomy Tower in the distance, your first and now, final destination of the day, a hand creeping towards Fred’s to hold it in a tight grip, unconsciously afraid he’d fall.

“I don’t know! Maybe this was your ultimate prank! Bring us both to heaven to fight God or something.”

Now it was Fred’s turn to scoff, sitting back up to shove his hands under the blanket, squeezing your hand in return.

“First off, if I ever fought God I’d need George there with me. I don’t think that just the two of us could take him. Secondly,”

Fred cupped your chin with his free hand, bringing you in for a deep kiss, catching you by surprise as you braced yourself on his shoulder with your free hand. His tongue teased your lower lip, making a moan slip out while his tongue entered your mouth. Exploring each other, your entangled hands fell apart- his coming to grasp your neck, bringing you closer to him, yours gripping his hip, drawing circles on the bone.

After what seemed like an hour, but also felt like seconds, the two of you fell apart, breathless as you panted, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I don’t think either of us are making it to heaven darling. Think we’re condemned to hell forever, you and I.”

You looked into his coffee coloured eyes, pupils dilated as he scanned your face, his favourite pastime, memorising every crevice and pore. Your hand found its way to the necklace sitting around your neck, fingering the knot that symbolised eternity in your hands.

“Well if I’m going to burn in hell for an eternity, then I’m glad I’ll be burning with you Freddie.”

[wickedyan]

Ummm... can I just say how much I love your levi works?? ❤❤❤ i was wondering if you could make another yandere levi victorian arranged marriage? Like it dosent have to be victorian. But can you make it so that its a continuation of your first part ??? thanksss

Part 2 of this

Character: Levi Ackerman, Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan

Warnings: Dubcon, Noncon, Yandere, rough smut.

A/N:  I now know a lot about the Victorian era. What people wore in the daytime, in the evening, to bed… and their underwear. Specifically, how to take off the underwear… if you get what I mean ;)

On another note, woo! I finally completed this work! I’ve been working on it for over a week nonstop... hehe. I hope you all enjoy it! (This is the last part to this, I won’t be writing any more for it.)

Due to its length... and content, it’ll be placed under a cut.

-

His house didn’t feel like a house. Or a home. More like a castle. The gardens were large and meticulously well kept, with fantastical flowers and hedges that you only heard about in fairy tales. The gates to the estate were tall, with sharp-pointed tops and scary wires. It would ensure no unwanted guests could get in… and that no one that wished to leave without permission could get out.

The house itself was five times larger than your old home, and you could count at least twenty windows on the front side of the house.

Your long skirt dragged along the concrete paths, heels clicking in tandem with your new husband’s dress shoes. His arm was entwined with your own, having pulled you close to him, shoulders rubbing together with each step.

You clutched at your skirt as you ascended the stairs to the front door of your new prison. Servants opened the doors wide for the two of you, and you were hit with the fresh scents of lemongrass and ginger.

The entryway was sparsely decorated, a deep red rug centred on the floor with golden tassels fluffing the edges. A wooden table with gorgeous floral vases that you knew costed more than the dress and shoes you wore combined, with fresh red roses that were mid-bloom. The walls painted a simple beige colour and the roof was an odd pattern of mahogany wood with various animals carved into them. Old paintings lined the walls, you didn’t recognise any of the figures, but you recognised the cold eyes identical to Levi’s. His mother.  

Levi wasted no time pulling you through the entryway and through identical hallways, up squeaky mahogany staircases and into what seemed like his private bedroom. He pulled free from your arm, addressing a maid and ordering her to have you cleaned up and redressed with a grumble of “and burn that thing when you’re finished” …you couldn’t help but be offended, it was the fanciest dress you owned.

A kind-looking woman pulled you into an en-suite bathroom that connected to his bedroom. It was large, with a marble counter and basin, and a large bathtub with a shelf full of essential oils and fragrances. The bathwater was poured in, heated to a high temperature. You watched the steam coming off the water, it would be a while before the water was comfortable. The maid left you to undress, and you took your time. Slowly untying the shawl around your shoulders, you unceremoniously dropped it to the floor. Your shoes and stockings were next. Then the dress itself. There was a full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

You stood in front of the mirror, eyes skimming over your body. You weren’t skinny, but you weren’t overweight. Your parents worked hard to put food on the table for you, but you bet Levi barely had to lift a finger. You eyed your protruding hip bones, gaunt collarbones. You weren’t skinny… but you could stand to gain a few kilos.

The water stung your sensitive skin as you sunk into the bath, letting the water rise until only your head sat above the water. The cuts on your knees burned. Taking a deep breath, you submerged yourself, holding your breath as you wet your hair.

In only a few hours, you would lose your virginity. Your new husband would expect sex from you, and you would have no reason to deny him. Maybe you could tell him you weren’t feeling up to it… but Levi wasn’t stupid, he would see through your lies easily. You couldn’t help but wonder… would it be good…? Would you enjoy yourself?

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, nervous energy spreading throughout your shaking extremities.

Reaching for the soap, you made quick work of lathering it over your body, making sure to leave no spot untouched. He seemed to have special soap for your hair, it smelled of lavender.

Before you left the bath, you let yourself soak just a little longer. Until the water had cooled and your skin was pruney.

Fresh clothes had been left on the bed for you, you looked over them while you finished towel-drying your hair. It was evening, so you had been left an evening gown. It was much fancier than anything you had ever owned before. You almost felt wrong for wearing it. But you couldn’t deny its comfort, minus the corset that required help from several maids to tighten.

The dress was gorgeous. It was on off the shoulder neckline with long cream-coloured frilled lace. It was a peach colour, with large bows holding up more lace along the bottom of the gown. The number of petticoats and underskirts had your body hot, with a natural red flush to your cheeks and shoulders. The maids fawned over you, braiding your hair and applying cherry juice to your lips.

It was the prettiest you had ever looked, but the sour taste in your mouth wouldn’t leave. The maids, although just following orders, were dressing you up to have sex with their boss. It wasn’t so sweet when you put it in those words, but it was the truth of the situation.

You wondered if he wanted to bed you to show dominance over you. Maybe it was to show others that you belonged to him, he was the possessive type and he had arranged your marriage out of that sick idea. Maybe he wanted to impregnate you, really show the other nobles that you were his. Have you running around taking care of your children and speaking only when spoken to, like some little trophy wife.

Maybe he truly desired you.

You wanted more out of life. But he had stolen that chance from you. He had you right where he wanted you, stuck, locked away in his home and you couldn’t do anything about it. It was sickening.

Soon enough, the maids decided they were finished. And you were ushered down the stairs, where your husband was waiting for you at the dining table, a large feast laid out in front of him. Normally, the wife would sit on the opposite side of the husband, but he pulled you towards him, and you were sat in his lap.

Your face burned; an embarrassing show put on for the servants. But they made no comments on it. Smart of them, should they wish to keep their heads. You struggled in his lap, using the armrests to help push yourself out of his lap. His arms snaked around your waist, and with an iron grip, he pulled you back into his lap. No matter how much you squirmed, you couldn’t leave. You huffed a breath of annoyance, settling into his lap more comfortably.

You stiffened, feeling something hard beneath you. You wriggled, and Levi grunted hot air into the nape of your neck. Gooseflesh rose in its place.

“Careful, little lamb. Keep writhing on my lap like that and I won’t be able to control myself…” He murmured this low in your ear, a low growl on his tongue. Your body was hot, the pang of arousal that licked up your thighs was not helping.

Quickly you looked around, you were alone, so no one had heard him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, if someone had heard that you wouldn’t be able to face them again… “You smell divine. I take it you enjoyed your bath?” He cut into the food, bringing a bite-sized amount up past you and to his lips.

You nodded in reply, “I did. Thank you.”

Although you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smirking.

He brought another square of food up on the fork, this time aiming for your mouth. He was going to feed you. Your lips parted, accepting the food. You chewed slowly, savouring the taste. It was delicious… you hadn’t ever tasted something with so much flavour. You couldn’t help but salivate. You usually ate things like mutton, bread and tea. This was something completely out of your league.

Dinner continued that way, alternating bites until you were both full.

Dread. It was Night. The sun nowhere to be seen. Levi had already returned to your shared bedroom. You sat in a room in front of the fireplace. It was warm, and from your position, you could see the moon from the window. You cherished this moment, the comfort and allowed yourself to forget what awaited you in his bedroom.

It was your bedroom too, now.

A maid came to collect you, and you were broken from your stupor.

When you arrived at the door to your room, it was closed. You could see the glow of candlelight from underneath the door. You rapped the door, waiting for an answer before stepping through.

Levi was in his nightclothes. He was on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with a book in his hands. Laying on top of the covers. The candlelight flickered as you shut the door behind you. He didn’t lift his eyes from his book, flicking over the page with a hum. You made quick work of changing into your own nightgown, grunting as you loosened the corset with only a little struggle.

You could feel his eyes gliding over your exposed shoulder blades and flitting down with the slide of your dress as it fell to the floor. Turning around, catching him in the act. But he didn’t look away when you turned. He continued staring unashamedly. Daring you to say something, as though a man couldn’t admire his wife.

When you crawled into bed beside him, you were almost convinced he had forgotten about his heated promise to you. Almost. He lifted an arm, inviting you into his space. Ignoring it made no difference because he pulled you into his side. Your head resting on his chest, one arm holding his book and the other stroking through your hair, curling it behind your ear. It was comfortable, domestic.

Levi smelled good. Was it some soap or essential oils? Perhaps a special cologne? What was the scent specifically? You couldn’t tell, but it had you breathing deeply, hoping to intake more and more of that pleasant smell.

He had reached the end of his page but instead of turning it as he had the past several pages, he closed the book. It was placed in its spot in his bedside draw. His hand rested on his stomach. Your palms were sweating, fingers twitching wildly. All through this, his other hand didn’t stop stroking your hair.

Until it moved, sliding under your jaw and tilting your face upwards toward his own. His hand stayed there, cradling your face. He took a moment to meet your eyes. His pupils blown wide, eyelids heavy and lips parted.

His lips met yours.

You gasped and Levi used this to slide his tongue past your lips. His tongue rolled over your teeth and tongue, exploring your mouth. It was warm and wet and practised. He nipped at your lips, licking over them in silent apology at your sharp intake of breath. How was he so good at this? He grunts, but you’re lost in the kiss. Your eyes were closed, hands reaching for his shirt to pull him closer, hot skin touching his, mewling and leaning into him.

That scent was back again, but he tastes like whisky and mint and maybe you should have pulled away, maybe it should’ve been gross, but it just wasn’t. His lips were firm but gentle, his tongue teasing and slow. His teeth dug into your lip, but his tongue was always quick to soothe the mark.

Levi pulled back with a groan, a lewd string of saliva connected you. He leaned in, sucking it up lewdly. “You taste better than I imagined.”

Sliding around the back of your head and into your hair, his hand pulled hard and smashed your lips together once more. Heat floods your thighs, you rub your legs together to create some kind of friction.

“Oh… Sir-Levi…” you breathe out between pants and sighs.

He’s on top of you, pushing you down and his legs between your thighs. Calloused hands roam your body leaving trails of heat behind them. Then he’s pulling open the buttons of your nightgown and pressing kisses down your neck. He lingers on a particular spot on your neck, harder kisses until he’s licking hot, wet stripes along your throat. He blows cool air over it, chuckling as your nipples harden amongst the goosebumps on your chest. His groin is grinding over your hips, fingers digging into the fat of your hips and squeezing so harshly you know it’s going to leave marks.

Teeth scrape over your collarbones and it has you squeaking out a high-pitched moan. You’re writhing under his burning touch, teeth biting so hard into your lip you can taste blood.

He pulls open the rest of your nightgown, exposing your chest to the cool night air. His lips are enclosing the hardened bud before you have a chance to be embarrassed. He sucks it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and tugging with his teeth and it sends arousal straight to your core. His other hand is groping your other breast and you can feel the desperation in his touch. Your fingers rake through his raven locks, scraping against his scalp and pulling it, not knowing if it’s because it’s too much or because you have an inclination that he would like it.

A wet ‘pop’ is heard as he pulls off your nipple and moves to the other one to give it the same attention. Before he does, he kisses your sternum. His hungry eyes, wicked with desire, burn into your own. He takes pleasure seeing you so fucked out and he had barely started. “God, you’re beautiful…” He grins, he has you right where he wants you. A predator looming darkly over its prey. But this was the best part of the hunt. His reward.

“You belong to me now… you know that now, don’t you, y/n?” You nod, at his mercy.

He kisses the flesh of your bust, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and biting down. Hard. You cried out in pain, but he’s quick to move on, repeating the action and leaving deep purple marks all over your tits, moving back up to leave the same marks in more visible places. You shake your head, pushing at his shoulders. But he pushes back into you, you didn’t realise how strong he was.

“No- I… Marks. No…” You manage to speak amongst sighs. He snickers into your throat, the vibrations only making the sensations all the more pleasurable. He ignores your words, biting harder to show he heard you.

His hands ghost the length of your thighs, pushing the bottom of your nightgown up over your hips. Fingertips moved deftly, swiftly untying the strings keeping the front of your underwear together. He was quick to pull the last of the clothing hiding your body from his greedy eyes. You felt vulnerable, having your most intimate parts on display for the man. You squeezed your thighs together, or at least the best you could with him between them.

Strong arms held your thighs apart. He leaned down, hot breath blowing over your opening. Embarrassed, you covered your eyes with your hands.

“Eyes on me.” His voice was deep, demanding, controlling.

Slowly, you pulled your hands from your eyes, glancing up to witness his sinful expression. That devilish grin.

He was teasing as he leaned down, blowing hot streams of air over your pussy. Pulling the lips apart and staring back up at you from between your legs. Gaze dark. “My my, you are wet, aren’t you? So ready for me already?” His tongue dipped out to taste, licking a flat stripe up the length of your slit.

You gasped; eyes clenching closed before remembering to keep your eyes locked on his. Mirth in his stare. “I’ve been watching you, longing for you, keeping such a close eye on you… for months… never did I think you would look so delicious in my bed.”

Two fingers rubbed against your slit, grinding back and forth over your hole. Gentle “Ohhh…”’s and “Ahhh…”’s sighed from your mouth. Scooping up your slick and using it to press firm circles over your swollen clit.

That felt… good. Really good.

Levi paused, pulling his fingers away, scissoring them and holding them closer to the candlelight. “I guess… a taste wouldn’t hurt.” And his fingers were being sucked into his mouth. He licked around them, groaning. “Fuck… so sweet…” It should’ve been embarrassing but you had never been more aroused.

“I wish I could taste you more, but I can’t wait any longer.” He was tugging his own nightclothes off, untying the knot of his underwear and pulling his hard cock free. It twitched in his hand, heavy and girthy. He scooped more of your slick into his hand, stroking it over his cock. He threw his head back, a growl deep in his throat. “God… I finally have you, y/n… just fucking look at you… all mine.”

The heat of his cock was rubbing at your cunt, grinding it against your clit and fuck you wanted him. There’s a dark look in his eyes, and you suddenly remember that this man took you from your family and arranged a marriage with you to sate some sick obsession he had with you.

You kicked at his shoulder, sending him falling backwards and scrambling to get off the bed. But he pins you down, large hand wrapping around your throat and pushing you back into the sheets. His firm grip on your throat makes breathing difficult, you scratch at his hand but it’s no use.

He thrusts his entire length into you, fucking you into the mattress with such force you can hear the animalistic slapping of skin on skin and it only makes you wetter. His eyebrows are furrowed, angry. You scream, as best you can with his hand around your neck. He silences you with a searing kiss, much less gentle than before, with teeth clashing together.

The gentleness that had been in all his previous actions was gone; he gave no pauses while he pounded into you. He was snarling as he hammered unapologetically into you. “You can never leave me, brat. Be my good, submissive girl and I’ll reward you. Misbehave and you will not enjoy the punishment.”

Despite his rough movements, the pain and pleasure worked together, and it had you clenching around him because it just felt so good.

“Aw,” he sneered, “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” His thrusts had a sense of urgency to them, and he bit his lip as he growled in your ear. His free hand assaulted your clip with delicious friction that had the pleasure in your gut building until it was nearly ready to burst.

Levi grunted, “I’m gonna cum… and you’re gonna take every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated his words with forceful thrusts into your cunt.

“Cum with me… cum now.”

And that pleasure burst, clenching uncontrollable around his cock and milking each rope of sticky white fluid that filled your pussy.

He heaved over you, releasing his grip on your neck, and slowly pulled his softening cock out of your sopping pussy with a squelch.

He left you on the bed, panting and wrecked. Your forehead and hair damp with sweat, covered in his teeth marks and bruises that would be impossible to cover. His cum leaking out of your ruined cunt. He returned with a damp cloth, the cold liquid making you flinch, then relax into the soothing feeling as he wiped at your intimates.

Your eyelids felt heavy, and you couldn’t will yourself to move. But soon there was something being placed around your throat.

“Mmm… fits perfectly.”

It was a white, lace collar, with a dainty little heart.

‘Levi’

“Now, you’re truly mine.”

[anntoldst0ries]

shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

~~

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

~~

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard,  dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

~~

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

~

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

~~

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

Tag list: @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @terrm9@starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @jamespotterthefirst @lisha1valecha @writer-ish @maurine07 @drakewalkerfantasy@iemcpbchoices @liaromancewriter @lem-20 @lucy-268 @oldminniemcg @queencarb @qrkowna @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @utterlyinevitable @stygianflood @udishaman @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @binny1985 @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @archxxronrookie @tinkertailorsoldierspy @schnitzelbutterfingers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @theinvisibledreamergirl @custaroonie @irisofpurple @chasingrobbie @ethandaddyramseyx @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict @takemyopenheart @aworldoffandoms @potionsprefect @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[jvnghxope]

jamais vu; memory

part one;

◦ pairing: Hoseok | reader | Taehyung

◦ genre: vamipire au, smut, angst

◦ word count: 13.9k+

◦ warnings: dark themes; mentions of blood and death; vampire compulsion and manipulation; blood consumption; alcohol consumption; hallucinations; strong language; dry humping (sort of), this chapter doesn’t have smut but the next one will!

◦ abstract: In a time when vampires are the most despised creatures in the world, Jung Hoseok finds himself falling in love with a human. Would his love be enough to protect her from the war that is about to begin?

⇥ Sequel to Dalliance; part of the In the Shadows universe.

  ↳ chapters: prologue | memory | remedy | melody

Jung Hoseok stared at the invitation far too long. 

The reason? It had his name and his name only. Which was surprising. He is used to standing behind the shadow that is the Jung Family. He is the youngest son after all, with only 215 years old. 

He has a mission. A mission that was assigned to him by the Elders, which is a great honor. There is a rumor flowing around the Shadow World: a group of humans knew about the existence of vampires (if they knew about the existence of other shadow folks, it was a mystery) and they are slowly uniting to hunt them down. The Elders didn’t give it much of a thought at first. Vampires are stronger and faster than any human after all. There was nothing to worry about, they thought. Not until they found dead bodies of their kind. That is concerning. There are more humans in the world than vampires. Now that they knew how to kill them, their chance to win a fight was not impossible. 

His mission is pretty simple: infiltrate inside the organization, investigate their plan and ruin them from within. How? The rumors say Lord Kim was behind all of it. It is his job to know if that piece of information is true and get to the good side of his younger daughter.

The journey to the Kim Manor from his Family's old home is relatively short, as both of the families lived in the same area of the city. The moment his carriage clattered into the ground of the entryway of the manor, his eyes widened. The Victorian building is surrounded by beautiful Italian gardens and greek gods in statues. 

The vehicle stops with a jolt.  A well-dressed servant opened the door to ease Hoseok out of the carriage. He thanked the peon with a nod. The main entrance is displayed before him. Enormous marble stairs led to a hallway, illuminated with lights made of silver and glass. The natural light of the sun was going down as the dawn took place. It is a beautiful sight, he has to recognize that. 

The carriages drove away, led by a horseman, to a place they could wait for their masters. 

Hoseok follows the people towards the entrance. The excited whispers of the attendees arrived in Hoseok's ears. A ball at the Lord’s Manor is something worthy to remember and the event of the year. Everyone is wearing their best clothes. Dresses made of taffeta, silk, and velvet, and tailored suits. 

It’s the first time he is surrounded by a big crowd of humans. All their emotions come colliding towards him. It took a little while for him to shut them down. His powers are one of the main reasons he enjoyed being in solitude every once in a while. For some reason, human emotions are stronger than any other shadow folk. Being surrounded by a big quantity of humans is exhausting, to say the least. 

Two corpulent men opened the big wooden doors and one by one, the guests entered the manor. In the entry, a group of men is slowly forming a line near a small room, where two young men received their coats, hats, and canes and gave them a label with a number. 

A beautiful lady with a red dress led the guests through a corridor to the ballroom. It is the biggest room in the manor. Big golden chandeliers illuminated the room, giving it a golden light. Three of the four walls had large tables with white silk tablecloths, full of delicacies and the most exotic drinks. 

Upon his arrival to the city, he made some of his peons spread the word that a new wealthy bachelor was in town. That’s how he got his invitation. As he strolls around, Hoseok could hear how the people are whispering about him. They don’t recognize his face, but they know who he was. The town is not relatively small, but wealthy people knew each other. Hoseok is a foreigner in their world.

A round of applause sounded when the Lord made his entry, his beautiful wife clutched by his arm and his firstborn, Kim Namjoon, walking behind them. The Lord gives a speech, thanking the attendees at the 22nd birthday of his daughter, the smallest of his children. To be honest, Hoseok didn’t pay too much attention to the Lord, instead choosing to finish his tasteless champagne and let his eyes wander around the room, rather bored. Then, his eyes fell on you, and wow. 

And he’d be damned. You are the Lord’s daughter. 

The Elders mentioned something about your beauty, but seeing it with his own eyes is something else. It is impossible to believe you are a mortal. Any in the Shadow World could easily mistake you for a vampire. Maybe even a fairy too. You are standing there, with your head held high as all the eyes in the room are laid on you. A smile bright enough to illuminate an entire city and a beautiful green dress hugging your frame. Hoseok couldn’t help but stare in pure awe at you. And he was not the only one. You had the power to draw the attention of everyone in the room. Subconsciously, he notices you opening your mouth. You are saying something. Words that don't reach Hoseok’s ears, too immersed in you.   

Hoseok shakes his head the moment he saw people approaching you. To clear his mind, he takes one of the snacks that looked somewhat tasty and ends in one gulp of the contents of his glass. 

“Jung Hoseok.” 

He is surprised to hear his name and surprised even more to see a familiar face behind the voice. 

“Taehyung," he greets.

His old friend grins, “I know I will hate the answer, but I’ll ask anyway. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m guessing I am not the first one the Elders sent, right?” 

Taehyung chuckles. “They sent me a month ago,” he confesses. 

“What did you use as cover?” 

“I used compulsion. They believe I am the son of a distant family friend that just returned to the city,” Taehyung replies with a sly smile. “I suppose I am not doing a good job if they sent you.” 

Hoseok snorts. “They are getting desperate.”

“And they should. Things are worse than we’ve imagined.”

“Did you discover something new?” Hoseok asks, taking another cup of champagne. 

Taehyung scans the room as he feigned drinking from his cup, making sure there was no one in ear-shot. “They have new allies,” he informs. 

“Who?”

Taehyung turns to his friend. Hoseok doesn’t need to use his ability to understand how bad this. He can perceive Taehyung’s worry behind his perfectly collected smile. “Werewolves.”

With his eyes, Taehyung points to one of the guests. Hoseok follows, only to find a young man talking to no other than Lord Kim himself. Hoseok’s jaw clenches, “The Jeons.” 

One of the oldest werewolf families and an enemy to vampires. 

“Have you informed it yet?” Hoseok asks. The Jeon boy is now talking to Namjoon. 

“Not yet. I am close to being invited to the group. My every move is being monitored.”

“The dog didn't recognize you?" Hoseok mocked. 

At that, Taehyung laughed. “We haven’t crossed pads. But he is young. I don’t think he could recognize a Pureblood if he wanted to.” They share a laugh. 

Hoseok manages to keep his eyes out of you for almost an hour, talking to Taehyung, making fun of werewolves, and catching up. It is like a little escape from the reality they are currently living. Like the old times, when things were less complicated. But you are a magnet and his eyes can’t help but look at you every once in a while. 

"Should I introduce myself?" Hobi asks his best friend out of nowhere. He takes his 15th cup of the night (or was it the 16th? He can’t tell) as he waits for an answer. Human alcohol is not supposed to affect him, but he feels a little tipsy. 

With cheeks flushed, Taehyung turns to look at him, “Who?”

“Ms. Kim.” 

“Ahh,” Taehyung nods. “If you want to… Be my guest. But be careful. There are eyes and ears everywhere. But there’s something a need to tell you first-" 

"Mr. Jung," a voice says. 

His heart jumps at the sound of his name, and when he turns around, you are standing in front of him.

Hoseok never stood up too fast (humanly possible, of course), "Ms. Kim."

Wow, you are more beautiful up close. Your eyes look so bright the stars would be jealous. The color of your dress and the candlelight make your skin glow beautifully. Then, your scent fills his nostrils and his throat goes dry. Intoxicating and addictive. It makes his head spin. He gets why Taehyung wanted to warn him: you are dangerous… and somehow he doesn’t find himself to care at all. 

“I believe we are not properly introduced,” you add with a smile. 

“My apologies,” Hoseok bows slightly and outstretches his arm. Taking your hand in his, he gives it a little peck. Your skin feels so soft against his palm. “My name is Jung Hoseok.” 

“Is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jung. Thank you so much for coming to my ball.” 

“I guess I should thank you instead, for inviting a total stranger.” 

You giggle and it is a melody he doesn’t want to forget. “There are a lot of strangers here.” 

Hoseok opens his mouth, the perfect retort in the tip of his tongue and-

“___?” Kim Namjoon interrupted. “Father is looking for you.” Namjoon didn’t bother to look at Hoseok’s way, which he finds incredibly offensive. But wait, why does he care?

You nod at your brother but your eyes never leave Hoseok.

“Well, Mr. Jung, it was nice to meet you. I hope we can talk again sometime. Maybe over a cup of coffee.” 

“It will be my pleasure,” Hoseok replies with a bow. 

And you disappear with your brother through the crowd. 

You hate these types of parties. They are full of shallow people. They give you the attention you didn’t want and being your birthday is the cherry on the cake. People are there more because of your father rather than because of you. It is something you are used to. People surrounding you because of your father’s power. 

Your brother isn't of help, either. According to the girls your mother made you drink tea two times a week, he is handsome and the best gentleman they could ask for. And as much as you believe every word, you are also sure they only wanted him because he would inherit the royal title of the family and a couple of millions. They are nice to you only because you were his sister. 

"Are you using your mountain ash necklace?" Is the question of your father the moment you arrived where he was and you reply with a nod. "Good. Those bloodsuckers could be anywhere." 

“Dad...” 

“Also,” it is like you didn’t talk at all. “I made some pawns fill the champagne with mountain ash, too. Open your eyes for the symptoms.” 

“What symptoms?”

“This is like poison to all the monsters out there. If you see something suspicious –” 

"–Honey, we're celebrating your daughter's birthday,” your mother grimaces. “Keep that stuff to your reunions." Then, she turned to you, "Sweetie, it's time to open the dance floor." She delivers a kiss to your cheek and urged you to enter the dance floor, where the guests are waiting with inquisitive stares. 

It is a tradition in the royal families when a lady turned 21 to dance with all the bachelors. Like a greeting to society, the part you are anticipating the less. You are about to dance with a bunch of strangers you are not interested in at all. 

With a forced smile, you compel yourself to walk across the room to the center of the circle the guests just made for you. A man is already waiting for you. The heir of the Jeon Family: Jeon Yongmin. 

Great. He is currently the favorite of your parents to bethrow you into marriage. You can't complain, though. He is attractive (really, really attractive), he will inherit a fortune of his own and he is nice to you for being you and not because you had "Kim" attached to your name. He praises you and says how beautiful you look tonight. It is safe to say you enjoyed the few minutes you danced with him. You are finally enjoying the ball. 

But the pleasurable feeling doesn't last. The other bachelors made you feel like you didn't matter, like you were a simple object, asking questions related to your family or not talking at all. 

Dizzy and in desperate need of an escape, you fantasize about kicking some of them and run for dear life. But before you could put your plan into action, a familiar warmth spreads inside your body when no other than Kim Taehyung takes your hand. The smile of your best friend is enough to alleviate the pressure in your chest.  

"You look gorgeous today. I didn't have the opportunity to mention it earlier." 

He always knows how to soothe your nerves. 

"Thank you. You look handsome today." 

A smirk rose on his face. "I always look handsome." 

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. The girls in here are either drooling for you, for my brother, or both." He giggles. “I didn’t know you were close to Mr. Jung.” 

Taehyung clears his throat, “Yeah. Our families have a business together. I haven’t seen him in 5 years.” 

You hum. “He seemed… nice.” 

Taehyung raised a brow. He couldn’t comment on your statement and the next bachelor arrives. The next two gentlemen are just as boring, with nothing to say and lacking a good personality. You wonder how many more you need to dance with. Then, a tingle runs down your spine as the other man grabs your hand. You are face to face with Jung Hoseok. 

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, suddenly out of breath. 

“Milady. We meet again.” He looks stunning. Dark brown hair parted effortlessly over his forehead, dimpled smile, and honey skin. He holds your body tightly against his chest and your cheeks flushed. Even when you have danced with at least 20 men in the course of the evening, no one has held you like this. So…intimate. Not even Yongmin, whom you'd soon are to become his fiance. Not even Taehyung, who you already knew and have a friendship with. 

To distract yourself, you attempt to make conversation with the man. “What brings you to our little Hylia, Mr. Jung?” 

“My family has some properties here and I wanted some fresh air,” he responds, all his attention devoted to you. His eyes are intense and alluring. He smells like sandalwood and musk. He dances effortlessly, not paying attention to the steps. You? You are repeating the steps in your brain so you wouldn’t screw up in front of everyone. He is that distracting. He swirls you again and when your eyes return to his face, his eyes are red. You blink and it’s gone, a pair of chocolate eyes looking at you. 

You smack yourself internally. Your dad is driving you crazy. Just because he sees vampires everywhere he goes, you don’t need to follow that path. 

“I hope we made a good impression,” you say before you embarrass yourself further. 

“You did,” he smiles and squeezed your hand, reassuring you. 

The music is slowly fading, coming to an end, both relieving and disappointing. You wish you had more time to talk to him. A round of applause echoes in the room and you and Hoseok bow to each other. Before you could leave the dance floor, a new song starts playing. Panicked, you observe how other couples enter the dance floor, and if you desire to get out of here, you have less than 10 seconds to run or -

“Do you want some fresh air?” Hoseok whispers against your ear, stopping your meltdown. Without so much thought, you agree and let him lead you out of the crowd. He intertwines his fingers with you so naturally. Like they belong together. Your hand and his. You giggle all the way to the hallway. 

“I don’t know where to go,” he turns to look at you, embarrassed. You can't help but laugh at that. He looks cute, all flustered. 

“Follow me.” 

It is your turn to draw him through the maze of rooms, doors, and corridors you call home. There is a series of small balconies facing the backyard and protected from sight by a large curtain. The moment you step outside, you let go of his hand and take a deep breath. It is nice to feel the chilly air against your skin. You relax both arms in the cold metal of the fence and watch the stars that are slowly rising in the sky as the sun fades away. 

"I hope the ball was not boring to you, Mr. Jung,” you mumble and when you look at him, his eyes are already on you. 

"Of course not. It was… pleasant." 

There were very few candles on the balcony and most of the light is provided by the moon. The moonlight makes his features sharper, especially the curve of his jaw. Then, your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are glowing. Perhaps you drank more than you remember, because the next time you blink, the glow is gone. 

It is official. You are slowly losing your mind. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured. 

“P-pardon?”

He clears his throat, “The view of the garden is… quite majestic.” 

Your cheeks flushed. For a moment, you thought he was talking about you. “Yes. It is my favorite place in the whole manor.” 

He takes the final steps and stands next to you. 

"Excuse me if I am noisy, but you don't seem to enjoy the ball that was made especially for you, Ms. ___." 

“What made you think that?” You raise a brow, waiting for his answer. 

“Well, there’s a bunch of people that came for you and you are here, talking with a stranger.” 

A dry chuckle leaves your lips and you shake your head, “It may be my birthday, but it is just another ball with the same people, the same food, the same music and most of the guests are here because of my father. I don't tend to sound like an ungrateful child, but sometimes I get tired of this world. Does that make sense?" 

You play with your fingers to avoid looking at him. You feel really comfortable around him. Like you can tell him anything and he won't judge you. 

"I don't have many friends. Taehyung is one of the few to be around me because of me and not because I am the Lord's daughter. I have known him for a while now." You finally summon the courage to look at him. He gives you a sympathetic look, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with my problems, Mr. Jung." 

“On the contrary, I am glad you trusted in me,” he says with a smile. “I hope that from now on, you can consider me as a friend, too.” 

He leans closer, making your heart beat a little faster.

“Then, we should drop the formalities. Don’t you think?” 

Something unreadable crosses his expression, but it is gone before you can pinpoint what it was. Instead, he beams at you. “You must call me Hoseok, then.” 

“Well, Hoseok,” you enjoy the way his name rolls off your tongue. “I enjoyed our little time together. But I must return. My mother is probably already looking for me.” 

“I hope we can meet again sometime.”

You walk to the entrance of the manor but before you get in, you turn around. Your heart jumps inside your chest. His eyes are still fixed in you, the air ruffling his hair in the most endearing of ways. He is breathtakingly beautiful. 

"Good night, Hoseok," you murmur and open the door to get inside. 

"Good night, ___," he whispers back. 

You don't see the soft smile that stretched across his lips. 

Hoseok never understood humans. 

They are weak and fragile yet they enjoy living their lives to the fullest. They don’t care. Some vampires despise humans. They are shallow, greedy, and easy to compel. They only served for two things: make them do your dirty work and feed on them if necessary. But not all vampires are bad. Some of them chose to be in the world, surrounded by humans. They understood they needed them to survive. They make subjugates and sometimes turned their couples into vampires. 

Love is not a common word to vampires. Blood is the most important thing. Blood means power. 

Some vampires have 'special' abilities and they got stronger generation by generation. For example, his father has enhanced speed and was stronger than a normal vampire. His mother can feel other people's feelings and emotions and manipulate them in some way. He and his brother inherited both abilities, but the increased speed and strength are stronger on his brother, and the ability to feel emotions is stronger in Hoseok. 

Hoseok never understood humans and was never interested in them.  That changed when he met you. 

You are different. He doesn’t know how to explain. You are like a magnet and he will happily follow you around. He is intrigued. He never met someone who felt as strong as you. He remembers the annoyance and the sadness you felt when you trusted him with your thoughts. It was like the emotions were his. Not even the shield is enough to keep them away from him. He was surprised by the force of them and he found himself wanting to make you feel better. The mission and the reason behind his presence in that ball forgotten since the moment he touched you the first time. 

And he wants to see you again. 

Dear Ms. Kim ___ 

Ever since we met, I'm not able to stop thinking about you. I hope this doesn’t seem too presumptuous, but I would like to see you again. I'll take a walk at the park on 5th Avenue this Friday. I'll be honored if you join me. 

I'll wait for you at the fountain at 4pm. 

JHS 

His desk is full of balls of paper and letters stained with ink. It's a mess. He had been writing the same message for the past hour with no good results. He has never sent a message to a beautiful girl before. He is well known inside the Shadow World and women approached him first many times. He is relatively new at this. What he is supposed to write?

His main manservant is with him all the time and he has been laughing at his expense rather than being of any help the entire morning. After an hour or so, he managed to write a decent enough message. He lets out a sigh in satisfaction. The letter seems perfect. He reads it again a couple of times before placing the family seal in one corner and hand it to a servant that will deliver it as soon as possible.  

That Friday, Hoseok arrives at the park a little early. He feels a little uneasy, his stomach churning, his palms are sweating and he can not standstill. These sensations are what humans describe as butterflies in their stomachs. Why they enjoyed it so much? It feels awful! 

And then you arrive. Looking as gorgeous as the last time he saw you. You are wearing a light blue and pretty day-dress. Four men accompany you, not living your side for a split second. Guards. 

His heart may or may not have stopped the moment your face illuminated when you see him. 

"I must say, I was surprised by the invitation," you murmur when he was at ear-shot, stretching your gloved arm that he happily receives and kissed in welcoming. 

"Would your guards let you take a walk with me?" 

You grin. 

"So, tell me more about you,” you ask, clutching your arm around his. He can feel the excitement pumping through your veins.  

“About me?” 

You nod.

“I feel like we only talked about me at my birthday ball. I want to know more about you." 

Hoseok remains quiet for a while, pondering on what he could tell you. As you keep walking, the trees start to be closer to each other and the sunlight is slowly fading. The darkness on this part of the park adds a mysterious aura and it is a little chilly. You hug your shawl closer as you wait for his answer. 

“I used to live with my parents and older brother. We left Hylia a long time ago, but I wanted to come back. I have good memories of this place. The manor we used to live in is not so far from yours, actually. I've been preparing to take over the… family business. You know, appointments with business associates and clients.” 

You hum, “And all your family is a vampire or just you?”

Hoseok chokes on his spit and stops on his tracks. You eye him curiously, a hint of a smile on your lips. You know his secret and you don’t seem to fear him. You were blunt about it and asked him directly. That takes courage. You are not nervous. Not even scared. That confuses him by no means. He can’t tell if that is a good sign or a bad sign. 

“What?” you ask, a little impatient because he hasn’t confirmed your suspicions yet. “Do I need to pretend I don’t know what you are?” 

Hoseok had three options: one, feign ignorance and take it as a joke (even when he was sure it is not); two, use compulsion to make you forget this day; or three, go with it. 

“Since when do you know?” 

Yep, he chose the third. 

“The day we met,” you confess, leaving Hoseok surprised. If you already knew what he was, why you accepted his invitation? Why not send men to catch him and lock him down? You were not walking anymore but your arms were still clutched together. You don’t seem uncomfortable and your emotions are anything but negative towards him. It is so confusing. 

“Can I ask how you figured it out?” He says after a while. 

Your eyes narrow. “I don’t if I can trust you. You could be the enemy…” 

He is the enemy. At least to your family. 

“Yet, you are still here,” he points out with a smile.

He now sensed the uncertainty –and fear?– slowly creeping inside your body. He can hear how rapid your heartbeat is. A part of him is relieved you were having a normal human reaction after all. The other part of him is… disappointed. 

“I am not going to hurt you,” he says, wanting to place his hand over yours to assure you but choosing to not doing so. 

“I-I know,” you manage to say, eyes glued to the ground to avoid looking at him. “If you wanted to hurt me, you already would have.” 

He raises an eyebrow. You are smart. He never doubted it. 

He is not proud of what he is about to do, but he has no other choice. 

“Come,” he calls and leads you to a bench so you could sit down. You follow his lead without much trouble. As subtle as he can (so you don’t notice your sudden behavior change), he eases your nerves, listening to how your ragged breath slows and how the erratic thump of your heart decreases to normal levels. 

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine,” he offers. “Deal?”

Then, you finally turn your face to him, “How can I know you would not go and tell our secrets to your vampire friends? We are not entirely hopeless…” 

“Fair enough,” he concedes, “I guess you just need to trust me, ___.”

He does what he does best: being charming. It is not a difficult task as allure practically drips from his pores. Being a Pureblood, the allure is twice as strong. He doesn’t need to use compulsion to get what he wanted from a human. At least most of the time. His natural charming personality, incredibly good looks, and vampire-allure aura doesn’t do the trick with you. So, he does a little cheating: he enhances all the good feelings you have for him. Trust, comfortableness, all the emotions that could make you trust him. 

It passes several minutes before you take a deep breath, your mind made up. 

“Ok,” you agree. You fidget on your seat and chew on your lower lip. Hoseok can sense the uncertainty. It is still there, but not as strong. You take your time. That story had been in your family for generations. It is hard to tell it to someone from outside. Foreign. It is prohibited. You take a deep breath. “My family… Well, specifically my grandfather, formed a group with the sole purpose to eradicate the evil of this world. He was attacked by a vampire and left for dead when he was 20 years old. A warlock saved him. Since then, he decided to study your kind and hunt them down.

“On his studies, my grandfather found something vampires were weak to mountain ash. Since then, my family has built an entire business from it. They created jewelry with it so vampires couldn’t use their mind control on us. 

“That day, at my birthday ball, my father sprinkled some mountain ash over the champagne in hopes it would reveal vampires within us.” 

Hoseok frowns. That would explain the buzz he felt during that night. Oh, he is in trouble. Humans know way more than they expected. Humans have leverage against his kind. He needs to find out how strong this leverage is. 

“Are you wearing a mountain ash necklace right now?”

You nod, “I always wear one.”

He hums. He could use his powers a moment ago just fine. Maybe the amount of ash is not enough to shield you from his powers or it doesn’t work with Purebloods at all. Is he going to reveal that information to you? No. It is not the end of the world. Yet. 

“So, how did you notice?” he urges.

“Your eyes. When we were dancing, they turned red. It was just for a second. I thought I was hallucinating. But it happened again when we were on the balcony. My father a long time ago told me that vampires have crimson eyes as the color of the blood that runs inside our veins. That is how you recognize a monster.”

You definitely are smart. “You are something else, Ms. Kim,” he praises and your cheeks feel warm. “If you knew already what I was, why didn’t you tell your father?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I was curious about your kind. My father always says vampires are bad, but when we met, you had an opportunity to hurt me and you didn’t. Curiosity got the best of me,” you laugh, embarrassed. “It runs in the family.” 

Hoseok can’t help but smile. Is it wrong to feel honored because you trusted him enough to come? “To answer your previous question,” he says after a while. “I am a born vampire. All my family is.” 

You look at him with wide eyes but there are no signs of fear in them. Only genuine curiosity. “How old are you?” 

“I stopped physically aging when I turned 24. I am 215 years old,” he confesses with a tiny grin, watching carefully for your reaction. You do not disappoint. Your eyes bulge out of your orbits and he let out a soft chuckle. 

You clear your throat, "That is a lot…" 

Hoseok wonders how you would react if he tells you his parents have been alive for over millennia. 

"Do you have more questions?" He teases and you pout. 

"I have a lot. Can you handle that, Mr. Jung?

"I thought we agreed to call us for our first name, ____." He leans forward, looking directly into your eyes and enjoying how you flush.  

“Fine. Do you sleep in covens?” 

He lets the loudest laugh you have ever heard of and you do your best to not look beyond offended. 

“Is that really your question?” 

“Well, excuse me. We don’t know much about your kind and I am sure what we know is wrong,” you pout and his heart flips. He can feel your embarrassment and frustration. 

“No, we don’t sleep in covens,” he responds at last. 

“Do you sleep at all?” 

“Yes, in beds where you can do more than sleeping," he flirts shamelessly.

You ignore him.

“What about mirrors, garlic, and holy water?

“Do you people really believe that?”   

You nod and start chuckling because if he put it that way, humans were not that clever. It is the first time he heard you laugh and he is fascinated. 

"My bathroom is practically made of mirrors. Garlic is my favorite condiment and Holy water is just… water."

You snort, "See? What we know is all wrong…" 

He wants to take your hand, but he knows it won’t be appropriate. 

“What about the sun?” you continue. “You are literally under the sunlight and unbothered. Does it affect you at all?" 

Hoseok grins, "No." 

The rest of the evening you keep asking him all your doubts and he is happy to respond. By the end of the evening, you know more about vampires and the Shadow World than any of your family or the Association. 

"I believe I have kept you long enough, Ms. Kim. Your guards are probably worried." 

"Oh, dear," you notice for the first time how dark this part of the park is. "Time goes by so fast when I talk to you, Mr. Jung." 

And you giggle. 

He leads you to your carriage and is funny the look of relief your guards have the moment they see you. 

Before you get inside, you turn around. "Will I see you again?" 

He nods, "Soon."

You are used to your life. Is all kinds of boring. Every part of your daily life is a routine, a schedule to follow. You can't make decisions concerning yourself by yourself. They always have told you what to do, what to wear… and there were tons of rules on how to walk, stand, eat and talk properly. It is exhausting. 

Not everything is bad. You have your brother, Namjoon, Taehyung, and your friends. Their presence made your life easier and a lot more bearable. But they don't always provide the break you needed and craved. They are still part of the world you sometimes hated. They have their own schedules and rules to follow. It somewhat consoled you (and you hated yourself for that) that it seemed their lives were not under their control either. At least you are not totally alone. 

The first breath of fresh air was when you first met Taehyung. He was new, funny and so, so charming. He is the first man to notice you. He is different. 

And then, you met Jung Hoseok. 

He is a vampire. In the words of your father, a monster. He can suck your blood and leave you dry. He can corrupt your soul. 

Then, why do you feel more alive since you met him? 

With him, you were not Kim ____, the daughter of Lord Kim, with tons of responsibilities to fulfill. With him, you are just ____. A normal girl hanging out with a normal guy. A normal guy who also happened to be a vampire. 

And you are in trouble. 

Behind closed doors, the members of your family are self-proclaimed vampire hunters. They built a secret association with their ideals. They reunited at least once a month to talk about weapons and the best way to kill vampires. At least that’s what Namjoon told you one day and he refuses to tell you more because you're a woman and you don’t need to know these things. 

You may or may not have told him a couple of words that are inappropriate for a young debutante. 

“What color of dress would you want for tonight, Mrs. Kim?” Lisa, your lady in waiting, asks as he finishes the last touches on your hair. 

Looking yourself in the mirror, you sigh. “I think I’ll go with the blue one, with details in silver.” 

Lisa nods and motions the other ladies to bring the dress. It is still inside the box, newly designed for you. 20 minutes later, you are waiting for your family in the hall near the staircase. 

The Social Season started a couple of weeks ago and tonight the Lovelace family is throwing their annual ball. All the elite in Hylia has an invitation. A part of you hopes you’ll see Mr. Jung there. 

Your brother arrives 5 minutes later. 

“Father won’t come with us,” he says, using one of the mirrors on the left wall to adjust his already perfectly styled hair. “He has matters to attend.” 

“You mean matters of the Association.” 

He turns to you with a tight smile, “Yes. Mother is on her way and we can go.” 

“Ok.” 

The Lovelace Manor is not that far from yours, so the moment your mother is ready, the ride doesn’t take long. It is still early, but there are already a lot of people in the entranceway. Namjoon leads you inside. All the eyes are on you the moment you enter. You know your brother is handsome. He is. You resist the urge to laugh when almost all the debutantes at the Lovelace ball room break their necks to have at least a glance of your brother. He is a good match. He will be the next Lord Kim. All eyes are on him. 

And you? Besides being under Namjoon’s shadow, the pins holding your hair place are stabbing your scalp, you can’t endure standing on those heels any longer and your face hurts from the fake smile you were taught to always wear in public. 

But other than that, it can be worse. 

“Would you be okay if I leave you for a while? I want to have a dance with Mrs. Lovelace,” your brother questions and he has these sparkly eyes that make it really hard to say no. 

“Go.” 

He grins, showing his killer dimpled smile. He gives you and your mother a quick peck on the cheek and disappears through the crow, with a couple of eyes still glued to his frame. It seems that Ms. Lovelace is the lucky girl. She is nice. A year older than you. Her family meets all your parent’s standards and she is beautiful. The perfect sister-in-law. 

You spot a red-head near the dance floor. You wave your mother goodbye and walk toward your best friend. 

She beams at you the moment she recognizes you. She is wearing a white dress with gold details. 

"My father wants me to marry that Lightwood kid. Can you believe it?" She says in greeting. 

"Joseph? He is cute." 

She scoffs, "Please. We grew up together. He is like my brother," she dismisses with a flick of her hand and takes a cup of champagne from one of the trays. "What about you? I heard the date of your wedding with Jeon Yongmin is already set." 

You snort, "He hasn't proposed yet. Our parents are still… talking." 

"Your wedding is going to be pretty. Big and pretty." 

"Shut up." 

She giggles. She has the perfect retort ready, a retort that dies on her tongue when someone clears their throat behind you. Joseph Lightwood is standing behind you, with a lopsided smile tinting his lips but he looks a little nervous too.

“Would you join me for this dance, Ms. Carstairs?” He offers his hand. 

Despite all her rant and ‘he is like my brother’ thing, she blushes. You gnaw at your lip to avoid the smile. They would look cute together. You observe them walk to the dance floor. 

You don’t get to spend much time in solitude after your friend’s departure, as one bachelor asks you to dance too. Mr. Morgenstern (or was it Morgentain?) is a tall man with hair so blonde it is almost white and rigid facial expressions. Like a statue, chiseled by the best artist. He is attractive, but he is not your type of attractive. 

When you know the steps like the back of your hand, it is easy to get lost in the dance. You don’t need to put all your attention on it to do it right. You flutter your eyes shut. You get lost in your thoughts. You imagine that the skin of the hand that twirls you around is softer. The shoulders where you place your hand are a little less broad. You can imagine that the man dancing with you is not blonde, but brunette. The eyes crimson as the color of blood… 

You open your eyes. 

Hoseok is here and he is watching you. 

The world stops. You can no longer hear the music. The people around you disappear. It is only you and him. You both stand there, watching each other. He is so captivating. You have the urge to go to him, to touch him but he is so far. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

Once. Twice. Three times. 

The next time you blink, he is closer. Looking at you with his crimson eyes and a tiny smirk on his lips… Are those... fangs?

The world resumes and it is turning upside down. You are falling but before you touch the ground, a pair of arms grab you by the waist. 

“Are you okay?” Mr. Morgenstern asks as he helps you on your feet. He looks worried and you offer him a smile. 

You are still on the ball. The music is still playing. People are still around you but they stopped dancing. Now, they are watching you. 

“Yeah. I guess all the twirling and the champagne are not a good combination,” you laugh awkwardly. "Thank you." 

With a smile, he leads you out of the dance floor to a chair. You look around, searching for Hoseok, but you don't see him. Was he a product of your imagination? 

"You okay?" Namjoon appears out of nowhere when you sit down. 

You nod, "I am just a little dizzy." 

There is no point to try to calm your brother. He is already worried. 

"I have arranged a room for you if you want to lay down and rest for a bit," Ms. Lovelace is behind him. "You look a little pale…"

You open your mouth to deny the offer because you are fine but before you can say something, Namjoon is grabbing you by the hand and sliding an arm around your waist to help you stand up. 

"Come on," he says and there is no room to fight. 

He leads you through the ballroom and you want to comment on the fact that he knows his way through the house pretty well. He opens then one of the many doors in the hallway and urges you inside. The room is pretty, with a single bed and a small couch in the corner. 

“You can stay here until you feel better,” Namjoon states. “If you feel worse, call me and we will go home.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

With that, he leaves you alone and sends you a smile before closing the door. Once you are alone, you let out a sigh. After some deliberation, you choose to sit on the couch instead of the bed. Your legs feel weak and you are not sure why. You go over the events of the night. Does some vampire use compulsion on you? If so, why you? You are the daughter of the leader of the organization that will fight against vampires, but you don’t know anything. You can’t go to meetings and Namjoon barely tells you anything. You will be no use if they try to use compulsion to get information and you are supposed to be protected by the mountain ash in your necklace. But someone is trying to mess with your mind and is working. Doesn’t the ash work as your family always thought? Does that mean that you don’t have protection against them anymore? 

You don’t get to dwell on the matter much longer, because someone is knocking on the door. With a sigh, you stand from the couch and open the door. 

You gasp. It’s him. With messy hair and slightly agitated, Jung Hoseok is standing in front of you. To make sure it is really him, you take a step forward and place your open palm against his chest. It feels solid and warm. 

“Are you really here? Is it really you?” you ask, in a trance.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he looks concerned and that calms you a little bit. 

“Nothing, I…” you start, and then you notice that your hand is still pressing against his chest. You remove it immediately. “I’m sorry.” 

He chuckles, dismissing the matter like it's nothing. “May I come in?”

You nod and move from the door. 

“Are you feeling better? I saw you faint earlier.” 

Your eyes grow wide, “You saw that?” 

Then you didn’t imagine it. He was there. You start to giggle, relieved. You are not losing your mind, after all. “I’m fine. My brother exaggerated. I had too much champagne to drink and danced a lot. That’s all.” 

He raises his brow, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Are you sure?” Out of nowhere, he takes a step forward and cups your head with both hands. “You still look a little pale…” 

He is so close you lose the ability to think, talk, or breathe. His fingertips caress the skin softly. Before you know it, he is pushing you inside the room again and closes the door behind him. All without taking his hands from your face. Your eyes are glued to his. At some point, his eyes stopped being the chocolate color you know, and started to morph into a crimson color. It is both exciting and terrifying. Then, his eyes fall to your lips and your heart jumps. 

“What are you doing to me?” he whispers. 

You are about to ask him what he means, but suddenly you are knocked off your feet and your body is pressed between his body and the nearest wall. 

“You are distracting me. I have a responsibility to my kind. I had a mission and the only thing I can think about is you.” He emphasizes his words with a gentle caress to the skin of your neck, earning a gasp from your lips. He uses one of his arms to hug you by the waist and pull you closer (if that is even possible). "Your scent is intoxicating. Your skin is so tender," he murmurs last words with his lips pressed against your jawline. 

Your body feels like it is in overdrive. Every fiber is on fire. He takes his time to worship both sides of your jawline with kisses, licks, and nips. You rest your head against the wall to give him more access. It is clear where he wants to go but he moves slowly, taking his sweet time with you, nibbling at your earlobe and moving through your cheek. He is giving you the time to ask him to stop if that's what you want. But your mind is full of him, full of the feeling of his lips against your skin. You want more. 

With his free hand, he raises yours to rest them on his shoulders. 

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs. "Can I kiss you?" 

You nod and he presses his lips against your own. 

There is a moment when everything stills as time stopped. He is allowing you to push him away and when you don’t, he cups your face with his free hand and deepens the kiss. This is new territory for you. You only have kissed a man in your life and it was nothing like this. It was a year ago, with a man you thought you loved. It only lasted a second. It was just a press of lips and nothing more. 

This is different. 

Hoseok is kissing you with slow, languid strokes, taking his time to savor you. Fingers digging your skin, he presses his body tightly against yours and you hug him, not wanting to let him go. He tastes like champagne and something inherently his. It’s the sweetest thing. He swipes with his tongue your lower lip and you grant him entrance. He explores the crevice of your mouth as a man starved. 

You have never felt like this, so overwhelmed and full of emotions you can’t comprehend. He bites your lip and tugs it with his teeth and you gasp in pain. With his tongue, he licks the wound and when the only droplet of blood reaches his taste buds, he groans. 

“You taste divine,” he murmurs against your mouth and proceeds to kiss you fiercely, almost bruising. And then, he stops. He rests his forehead on yours as you both regain your breath. “You don’t understand how much I want you, how much I desire you…” 

He takes your left hand that is comfortably resting on his shoulder and kisses your knuckles. When your eyes flutter open, it's like a bucket of cold water washes over you. His eyes are crimson red and his fangs are exposed. He is staring at your wrist like it holds all the answers. He is lost in his bloodlust and desire. He leans in, his fangs just mere millimeters away from piercing your skin… 

“Stop,” you say and he does. His crimson eyes meet yours and you hold your breath. “Please, don’t.” Your voice is just above a whisper. 

The next ten seconds of your life are the longest, but he finally puts your hand down. 

“Don’t worry. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.” 

He caresses your cheek with his thumb. If he notices the shiver when he touches your skin, he doesn’t mention it. In a blink, he is on the other side of the room. 

“I think we should return to the ball,” he says while arranging his suit. His perfectly styled hair is a mess now and you blush. It’s because of you.  

With a nod, you walk to look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t recognize yourself. Cheeks flushed, messy hair and lips swollen. Even your dress is untidy. Now that you are not distracted with Hoseok’s lips on yours, you notice the sting of the pins against your scalp. It takes you a few minutes to look decent again. When you finish, you turn around. 

“Do I look okay?” you ask him. He is laying on the couch, with his eyes fixed on you. 

“You always look beautiful. Should we go?” he stands from the couch and offers his hand. You hesitate for a few seconds but take it anyway. He leads you out of the room to the ball, where you will dance all night, drink more champagne and have the best night of your life. 

Time's perception is something different for vampires than it is for humans. Ten years for vampires are 1 year for humans, and as time goes by, the longer you live the less you care about the simplest things.

Hoseok has traveled all over the world, read thousands and thousands of books, met all kinds of people… and yet, he hasn't fallen in love at least once. He doesn't know how it feels. 

He has had partners, yes, but only for feeding or sexual releases. There was not any type of intimacy and he didn't care.

And you? 

You are the first human he feels attracted to. You are the first thought he has every morning when he wakes up and the last he thinks when he goes to bed. You are the female lead on every book he reads and he finds himself daydreaming about you all the time. He wonders every day what are you doing or if you are doing okay. All those nights, when he holds you close as you dance all night, are graven inside his mind for all eternity. 

It has been a little over a month since the incident at the Lovelace ball. The night when he first tasted your blood. It was just a tiny droplet and still, it drove him mad at how divine it was. But as good as that was, it is still printed in his mind the way you flinched when he touched you after. He almost lost control and you were afraid of him. For the first time in a long time, he felt embarrassed to be a vampire, the monster you and your family proclaimed he was. He didn’t want you to fear him and as selfish and shameful it was, he used his powers again to take your fear away and make you feel better. At first, he was using his powers to get on your good side for the sake of the mission. Now, he wants to be on your good side because he is slowly falling into you. 

"Excuse me, my Lord," his main butler interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Kim is here and wants to talk to you."

One of his favorite books of all time is resting on his lap, but he hasn't been able to concentrate enough to understand a single word, so he closes it.

"Let him in," he replies with a sigh, placing the book on the table as he stood from the couch he was comfortably seated. The butler nods and disappears through the door.

Ten minutes later, Kim Taehyung enters the room. 

“Long time no see my friend,” Hoseok greeted him with a smile he didn't return. 

“I think we can skip the formalities.” 

Hoseok frowns. "Okay, then. What are you doing here?" He walks to his mini bar and places two ice cubes inside two glasses. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks his friend as he pours a dark gold liquid. Maybe a drink will ease his nerves a little. 

"No, I am okay. Thank you,” he dismisses with the back of his hand. “I came to ask you to stay away from ____." 

“Straight to the point, I see.” 

He turns to look at him. His face is impassive, not letting anything slide. He tries to read his emotions with no luck. A long time ago, Taehyung learned how to hide his feelings when he was around him. He hates it so much, especially when he is uncertain of the situation, which only concerns him further. 

“Why?” he asks, annoyance slowly growing inside his chest. 

“It is best for her not to be caught up in the middle of a war.”

Hoseok downed the content of his glass in one gulp and stared at his friend in confusion. “She is the daughter of the leader of the association. She is already in the middle of it.”

“Yeah, but how do you think her father would react if he knows his daughter is courting with a vampire?” 

“He won’t know about…-”

Taehyung snorts. “He is already suspicious and we are this close to getting caught.” 

“How do you know?”

Despite his angry exterior, Hoseok can tell Taehyung is really worried. He patiently waits for his friend to continue, seated on the same couch he was before he arrived. Hoseok can feel his mortification. It is faint, but it is there. He watches with amusement how Taehyung approached the bar and poured himself a drink. 

“I thought you didn’t want something to drink…” 

“After I told you what I know, you’ll want to refill yours,” he says and takes the contents of his glass in one gulp. 

Hoseok raises a brow but stays silent. After a few minutes, Taehyung speaks. 

“I’ve been using compulsion with servants to figure it out if they know or have heard something about the Lord’s anti-vampire group.” 

“And?” 

“Werewolves are not their only allies," he confesses. "The Lord managed to find a warlock willing to help them.” 

Hoseok frowns. “A warlock? I thought we had a peace treaty with the magic community.” 

Everyone thinks being a vampire is full of benefits and perks but they are all wrong. Vampirism brings along a lot of enemies. 

Taehyung chuckles dryly. “Theoretically? Yes. But this one is obviously in favor of humans.” 

“What would they want with a warlock?” 

“Well, they know how to kill us now and that’s not the worst of our problems.” 

“What could possibly be worse than that?” Hoseok asks. 

“They are trying to empower a human with magic to match our strength and speed during fights,” he gulped loudly and Hoseok’s heart drops. 

This couldn’t be happening. Taehyung lets the information sink in and takes another drink. Hoseok rubs his temples with his fingers. That’s definitely bad. Humans had a slim chance to fight against vampires because of their higher number and vampires still had leverage: their power. Now, if humans have powers of their own, vampires are screwed. He is screwed. 

“Any results?”

“Not yet.” 

Taehyung’s worry was so strong that he couldn’t hide from Hoseok anymore. It was exhausting and the feeling hit Hobi with the force of a truck. Now, his body was full with the worry of two individuals at the same time and his stomach churned painfully. 

"I need to inform my father. If humans want to fight, he will fight back." 

Taehyung nods, "I know. Now, do you understand why I want you to stay away from her?” his voice sounds hoarse and Hoseok doesn’t remember the last time he saw pain glistening in his friend’s eyes. "Something could go terribly wrong." 

Hoseok understands. He knows things are messed up and not for the first time he wishes you were a vampire. Things will be simpler like that. 

Would you want that? If he offers you a life of eternity with him by your side, would you take it? 

“I can’t,” and the words are like punches to Taehyung's gut. "I don't want to. I will protect her. I want to protect her." 

“Do you love her?” 

Taehyung closed his eyes as if he feared what his answer might be. 

Hoseok never realized until then, too caught inside his own world, fears, and hopes, that Taehyung has feelings for you, too. He couldn’t blame him for it, either. Hoseok himself was falling for you. Fast. You were extraordinary, beautiful and the most selfless person he knew. It was too obvious, actually. The way Taehyung’s face illuminated when you were in the same room as him; or the way his eyes helplessly followed your frame wherever you went. 

Taehyung was one of the good ones. 

He had never killed a human to feed. Enjoyed surrounding himself with humans because he wanted to be as normal as possible. He didn’t like being a vampire, but he was born like that and couldn’t change that. He took suppressors to weaken his ability to manipulate others' will. His power was so strong he even could use compulsion on other vampires –something no other vampire could do– but he respected the vampiric hierarchy and didn’t want to use it to his convenience. 

He is that kind. 

"I don't know," Hoseok answers. "I might."

As if he didn’t want to act like a normal human anymore, Taehyung moved in the blink of an eye and seated on the couch, burying his face between his hands in the most vulnerable state Hoseok has ever seen him. 

“Hobi, she is human. Mortal. She can die. You understand that, right?” His voice was muffled but to Hoseok's ears was loud and clear. 

Of course, he knew that. The last few days, he has been having nightmares. Horrible dreams where you die between his arms, bleeding out. Your blood smearing his hands and clothes as he desperately tried to keep you alive. Every time, he woke up with shallow breathing, his heart hammering furiously against his chest and the biggest lump on his throat. He had never felt that type of agonizing pain in his 200 years of being alive as he felt it at the mere thought of you being ripped off his side… 

...and Hoseok is surprised by the nth time by how quickly you managed to get under his skin. 

"I know," his voice sounds strained. "I will stay away from her." 

Maybe it is for the best. He would hate himself if something happened to you because of him. 

Taehyung stands up from the couch with clenched hands, "You better because if something happens to her, I'll personally kill you with my bare hands."

The Jeon's annual party is one of the most important and biggest events of the year during the social season. The invitation made of lush paper and gold is personally delivered to every guest. If you were invited, that meant you are important. 

It is also the event Hoseok had chosen to say goodbye to you. He wants to have one last dance and give you a final kiss before he disappeared from your life. 

Weird thing but what you loved the most about this world are the parties. Ironic, I know. Those parties are the perfect excuse to display the family fortune and elicit other’s envy. You hate that. No, what you love the most is when the hosts, to impress the guests, order the most exquisite pastries and drinks that make your taste buds tingle in pleasure. You love food.

There are also clothes. Despite yourself, you enjoyed dressing up in those dresses that are made especially for you and getting your hair and makeup done for the occasion. It makes you feel like you are inside a fairytale. 

Tonight, your only companion is your brother. Your father had something to do and your mother is kind enough to not come without him. 

This time, the Jeon ball had a theme, Fire and Ice, where the gentleman comes in white and the ladies in red. Lisa excelled herself with the makeup and the hair. You look absolutely stunning. 

Since you arrived, you made a beeline to the food. Shrimp canapes and diverse seafood in appetizers are displayed before you. You are not a big fan of seafood but the canapes are pretty good. You are about to take your second one when you feel a hand being pressed against your lower back. 

"Did my mother choose the appetizers well?”

Jeon Yongmin is behind you with an amused smile on his face. 

"O-oh! Mr. Jeon,” half of the canape was already inside your mouth, so you are struggling a little while you swallow it. 

"Please," he sends you a boyish smile and hands you a cup with bubbly golden liquid, "I told you to call me Yongmin." 

You smile back. “Yongmin,” his name rolls off your tongue and his smile widens.

Well, you guess he will be a good husband. He is kind and attentive. He comes from a wealthy family. You will be taken care of and will not have to worry about anything for your entire life. Plus, he is really handsome. Your kids will be pretty. Yet, you can’t picture yourself with him. When you imagine yourself in the future, another man is standing beside you.  

"The appetizers are really good," you finally respond. 

Strangely, he is here talking to you. Even when he is around your age, he spent more time hanging out with your brother and his friends than you. Thus, you are not close. 

"I'm glad you liked them. My mother was really nervous about it," Yongmin says as he takes one for himself. 

"How is the training going?" You ask him and giggle at his confused expression. "My father is the leader and my brother an active member. Of course, I know about your little group of vampire hunters." 

“It is weird to talk about it with someone out of the group,” he chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck. Then, he leans in closer to you so no one can hear what he is about to say. “We’ve been training with a warlock. He is giving some the power to fight against them. The other night, we went hunting and your brother killed one. It was impressive.” 

Your blood runs cold. Namjoon killed a vampire. You stare at Yongmin horrified but he is too busy telling you the epic story of your brother to notice the change in your expression. He seems excited and why not? This is what your family has been looking for: a way to eliminate vampires from the world. You should be happy. Instead, you feel nauseous. You can't help but imagine Hoseok being tortured by Namjoon. 

"We may kill some tonight. You can see if you want. I'm sure your father would let you," he adds casually. 

What? 

"H-how?" 

"They added a bigger dose of mountain ash to all the food and champagne. If a bloodsucker comes to the ball, we'll know." 

No. You need to tell Hoseok. 

"Has it ever occurred to you that not all vampires are bad?"

He turns to look at you, surprised.

"Are you kidding? They only want one thing. Blood. They'll do anything to get it," his tone is stern and you wonder if he has a story with vampires that made him hate them so bad. 

For the past few months, you have wondered if he was a vampire, like Hoseok. There is something odd about him. But now you are certain he is not. No one hates his own people that much. 

You excuse yourself, telling Yongmin that you need to go to the dresser. You can't be around him any longer. He offers you a smile that you no longer perceive as charming. You start walking as fast as you can. You need to warn Hoseok–

Suddenly, you bump into someone’s chest, too caught up in your thoughts to notice where you were going. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there… Oh, Hoseok.” 

All the concerning thoughts vanish from your mind the moment you meet his eyes. 

“Ms. Kim,” he greets you with a grin. “You look stunning tonight.” 

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. 

You blush at his words. “Thank you.” 

He looks really handsome too. The white of his suit accentuates his dark hair. 

Hoseok leans in and whispers against your ear, “Red is my favorite color.” 

You try so hard not to react to his words but your heart bumps hysterically inside your chest and you know he can hear it. It is clear by the smirk that tugs the corner of his mouth. 

There’s something you need to tell him, but right now you can't remember what it was. Maybe it is not that important. You'll remember later. 

At that moment, the string quartet started playing, filling the room with music.  

"Can I have this dance?" 

With a small bow, he offers his hand. With butterflies flying in your belly, you take his hand. 

He tugs you towards the dance floor where more couples are gathering and preparing themselves to dance. The steps come easy to your mind as you place your right hand over his left one and your left hand over his right shoulder. You feel warmth spread across your body as his right hand snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, his cologne filling your nostrils. 

Every time you dance with him, the world disappears. It is just you and him. Nothing else matters. You lose track of time. You dance until your legs feel weak and your feet hurt. You dance until your mind is dizzy and your throat is dry. Unbeknownst to both of you, a pair of eyes follow you through the crowd. 

The current song finished and a round of applause filled the room as the dancers bowed to their partners. 

"I have something to talk about with you," Hoseok says as he draws you out of the dance floor with a playful smile. Giggling, you follow after him. 

Then, something really weird happens. Hoseok stumbles over his feet. Hoseok, a vampire with enhanced reflexes, fell to the floor. He groans in pain and you let out a gasp. Something is wrong. 

“Are you okay?” 

He looks paler than he was just five minutes ago. Almost all the golden glory that distinguished his smooth skin is lost, leaving a pale, almost sick, color behind. But this is not the most shocking thing. His eyes fluttered open, a bright, crimson red has almost overtaken the chocolate brown of his irises. 

“Your eyes…” you whisper. 

“I don’t feel so good. Please, help me out of here.” 

With a nod you help him to his feet, urging one of his arms around your shoulders for support. A small crowd has gathered around you, their eyes observing with interest. 

“Is he feeling alright?” a woman, Lady Penhallow, asks. 

You offer her a tight smile. “Yes, thank you. He just drank a little too much,” you giggle awkwardly. 

You take Hoseok away before she could formulate a reply. You manage to make it out of the ballroom without much trouble, the people around them too busy to notice something out of the ordinary. However, when you arrive in the hallway, someone is waiting for you. 

Hoseok’s grip around your shoulders tightens as you recognize the man standing in front of you. 

Jeon Yongmin. The same Jeon Jongmin who was also an active member of your father’s Association and knows how to kill a vampire. The same who told you they were using mountain ash to hunt vampires at the ball… 

Suddenly, everything comes back to your mind. How could you forget something so important!?

“Is everything alright? What happened?” Yongmin asks, perfectly collected and face inscrutable. His eyes fall to Hoseok’s arm around your frame and he clenches his jaw. 

Perfect. 

Just perfect. 

You open your mouth to give him an answer, but Hoseok beats you. 

“Everything is alright, Jeon. I sprained my ankle dancing with her and Ms. Kim is kind enough to help me get into my carrier. Do I need to explain myself further?” To your surprise, Hoseok looks somewhat normal again. His eyes are brown again and he is doing his best to not use you for support to stand on his feet. Hoseok holds Yongmin's stare like he is challenging him to say something. The tension is palpable. 

"Okay…" Yongmin says after a while, his eyes glossy. He turns to you. “Come to see me when you finish. I need to speak to you.” 

You nod and watch him re-enter the ballroom. What just happened? 

The moment Jongmin leaves you two alone, Hoseok sighs in pain, and his body weight falls on your shoulders. He can’t stand on his feet anymore. With all your strength, you lead him towards a small balcony. Hoseok lets himself fall against the nearest bench once the door closes behind you. 

“I don’t know what is happening,” he musters between gritted teeth. He looks worse than before, small puffs of air coming out of his lips and beads of sweat all over his face, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Hoseok, I am so sorry! They put mountain ash on the champagne. They are looking for vampires!" 

You run towards him, on the verge of tears. 

“But… the mountain ash doesn’t… affect me,” he breathed out. His loss of breath was what concerned you the most. 

"Yongmin said they increased the dose." 

Hoseok coughs, “Well, that explains it.” 

“What does the mountain ash do to you?”

He coughs again and you wince. “It only weakens me. It suppresses my powers and my strength. I wouldn’t be able to defend me if someone attacked me.” 

Of course. It is the only way they have to fight against them. 

"What can I do? Let me help." 

"I just… I just need to recover my energy. I need blood. I have some spare at my manor…"

He makes the attempt to stand up but he is too weak and fails. 

"If blood is what it takes, then take mine." 

Hoseok raises his head, his wide eyes meeting as if he couldn't believe the words that came out of your mouth. Yeah, you are offering your blood to a vampire. Something you were taught to avoid at all costs. It is something you never imagine yourself doing. But it was Hoseok, a vampire you've been developing feelings for. And now that you put it like that, if you could save his life, you don’t mind at all.

"No, of course not," he quickly dismissed your idea. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.” 

“How much time do you think you’ll last like this?” 

“I… don’t know…” another cough. “Probably not much longer.” 

“Then you need to feed fast. Your manor is not close enough,” you try to reason with him.

"I'm not strong enough to resist the blood lust. I could kill you," he sounds tired. 

"You won’t, I trust you.” 

He groans. 

"Don’t. I don’t even trust myself." 

"Hey," you say, taking his head with your hands to make him look at you. He looks… sad. 

The chocolate brown of his eyes had faded away almost completely, now a pair of crimson eyes staring at you. It doesn't freak you out as much as it did just moments ago. Now that you understand they were a part of him, it is easy to leave the uneasiness behind. 

You press your mouth against his. The kiss is barely a peck but charged with emotion.

"Let me help you." 

The last words are practically whispered against his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut. It feels like an eternity passed before he replies...

"Okay. But not here. This place is full of hunters looking for me. It's not safe." 

You agree. "Let's go to my place." 

"Yeah," he deadpans. "It would be safer in the House of the family that put me in this position in the first place." 

You offer him a smile, "We don't have much of a choice, do we?" 

He sighs, "I guess not."

--- 

Helping Hoseok out of the Jeon manor is a challenge itself because of two reasons: one, it is full of guards; two, you need to carry Hoseok’s weight all the way. Still, he managed to act as normal as possible. Once outside, he loses his energy again. His chauffeur looks concerned when you arrive at Hoseok’s carrier and helps you get him inside. 

The ride to your manor is quiet. Hoseok doesn’t have enough energy to talk and you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything. He is resting his head on your lap and you gently caress his hair. You are anything but calm. Adrenaline is pumping inside your veins and your palms are sweaty. The ride only lasted 20 minutes. At this time of the night, the road was almost empty. Two maids are waiting for you at the main entrance. They help you take Hoseok inside. 

"Hello Sophie," you greet one of them. "Are my parents home?" 

She bows at you, "No, miss. They went out a couple of hours ago." 

You nod. "I'll take mister Jung to my room. He is not feeling well… Can you prepare us something to eat?" 

"Of course, miss." She disappears through the hallway. 

You help Hoseok walk towards your room, which is located upstairs on the left-wing. The moment the door is closed behind you a new wave of nervousness washes over you. 

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks as you help him to take a sit on your bed. You place your purse on your night table. "I could feed on one of your maids… They would not remember a thing…" 

"No, I'm fine.” You reply quickly. For some reason, the idea of him feeding on someone else isn’t appealing. Hoseok, who is practically dying on your bed, dared to smirk. “Now what?” 

“Come here.” 

His voice suddenly smoother, like honey. You gulp loudly, fidgeting on your spot. You take a step towards him, your heart pumping inside your chest furiously.  When you are at his reach, he takes your hand.

“This is your last chance to say no.” 

“I-I won’t.” 

He hums before tugging you closer with a last spike of energy. With a yelp, you fall over his lap. He caressed the skin of your neck with the tip of his nose and you shudder. 

“Hmm, you smell amazing,” he whispers against your neck before sinking his fangs on the flesh. 

You gasp and out of instinct, your arms are placed over his shoulders for support. It is not what you have imagined. It definitely hurt. You feel like your skin is burning. You whine and try to push him, but he is too strong. Hoseok’s arms snaked around your middle to pull you tighter against his body. And then you felt the bliss. It was not something you’ve experienced before. The burn fades, leaving a warm feeling behind. You hear yourself humming in content. It is like nothing bad could ever happen in this world. If this is what happiness feels like, you don’t want it to stop… 

Your hazy mind merely registered when Hoseok pulled off your neck- You don’t know how, but his lips find yours. 

The kiss is gentle and slow, both of you moving your mouth lazily. 

You stay like this for what it seems like hours, kissing and nipping until your lips bruised. There is no rush. Both are content just kissing each other’s lips until your lungs hurt due to the lack of oxygen. Hoseok pulls you tighter against his body that earns him a gasp and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside the seam of your lips. Every brush of his lips, every swipe of his tongue is driving you crazy. 

He groans in impatience when he tried to make you straddle his lap with your legs around his hips but failed in the process. Your gown was obviously an impediment to do so. You chuckled against his lips. 

You lift your dress so you could slot your legs around his hips and straddle him the way he wanted to. He groans in approval and pulls you for another kiss, his hands cupping your face. This time, it was sloppy and more passionate than before, the desire and tension between you growing with each passing second. Tugging his hair, you make him crane his neck so you could kiss him there, nibbling and licking the soft skin. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, clearly affected. His hands fall to your hips, fingers digging your skin. 

“What do you think I am doing?” 

“Ughh, you’ll be the end of me…” 

You can’t help but smile at that. When you found the soft spot on his neck, his hands around your hips tightened, causing your body to squeeze harder against his own. You gasp. It is the first time you feel his already hardening member pressing against your clothed core. You rock your hips again, out of curiosity, and a soft moan leaves your lips. It feels so good. You set a rhythm, slow but strong, as you keep exploring the skin of his neck. 

Soon, you feel that it is not enough. You need to feel more of him, so you try to take off his jacket but his hands stop you midway. 

“Baby,” your heart flutters at the pet name. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“Why?” you whine.

He smiles at your pouty lips. “You are intoxicated with endorphins and you just lost blood. You are not in your right mind to make decisions. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow.” 

“But I want you.” 

“And you’ll have me, tomorrow.” 

He brings your face to him to give you a kiss. “Besides, I think you need to sleep,” he says as he looks intently into your eyes 

You yawn. Suddenly, you feel very tired and you are having a hard time trying to keep your eyes open. 

“I think I should sleep,” you say, agreeing. 

He helps you lay in your bed and you sigh. This feels so comfy and soft. 

“Don’t leave me,” you mumble. 

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll be here when you wake up. We still need to talk.” 

You nod, your eyes already closed. 

He admires your sleepy form for a few minutes, deciding that maybe is not a bad idea to get some sleep, too. He stands from the bed to leave his jacket on one of the chairs you have around the room. 

Then, out of nowhere, his breath hitches in his throat and he's having trouble bringing oxygen to his lungs. His chest hurts again and he starts coughing violently. There is blood in his hands. 

What is happening? 

He just fed. The mountain ash shouldn’t be affecting him anymore. Then why he feels like shit again? 

The energy leaves him completely and he stumbles over the floor. 

Then, the sound of the room’s door being opened reaches his ears. Footsteps. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a man’s voice asks. 

Hoseok raises his head to look at the newcomer and it shouldn’t be surprising to find your brother, Namjoon, standing before him. No, what is surprising is that Taehyung is standing behind him. 

Son of a bitch. 

“I took you long enough to find me,” Hoseok says, mockingly. 

Namjoon only smiles sardonically. His eyes find your frame lying on your bed and his jaw clenches, the smile disappearing. 

“It was not a good move to feed on her, vampire. My sister has mountain ash in her system. We’ve been consuming it every day for the past month.” 

Well, that explains a lot. Hoseok looks at Taehyhung but his former friend is avoiding his gaze. Instead, he is looking at you. 

Hoseok coughs again and Namjoon is enjoying his suffering a little bit too much. 

“Don’t worry. We will take good care of you,” Namjoon informs him. “Gentlemen, get him out of here.” 

Two corpulent men enter the room and walk directly towards him. They pull him off the ground and use ropes to tie his hands behind his back. The moment the material touches his skin, he winces. It is probably enchanted with some anti-vampire spell. He doesn’t see the point though. The mountain ash has weakened him enough to keep him docile. 

The men tug him out of your bedroom. With the last strength he has, he tries to look at you. But Namjoon is blocking his view. The last thing he sees before the door closes behind him is Taehyung’s bottomless expression and the hem of your dress in the bed. Red, as the color of the blood that ruined everything. 

TO BE CONTINUED.

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!

[thebestworstidea]

The Green Knight’s Lady (4)

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Warnings: undeserved redemption arc, graphic imagery and as of this chapter violence against minors.

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

Chapter 3: In Which Remus and Rowan’s Stupidity Escalates to Treason (sort of)

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 4: In Which Life is Difficult

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

     The winter waned in a sloppy miserable way, kicking out with a few snowstorms like the flailing of a dying animal. Despite not really being bothered by the cold, D.N. practically hibernated, most often found in a window seat in the library, going through Rowan’s Mother’s books and being snarky about bad information about fairies. Rowan was fairly sure it was just a way to safely lash out. She dug out an old laptop and gave him access to the Netflix account. If nothing else it kept him distracted. Something Rowan had learned was that the fair folk did, as legend said, love stories. 

And apparently, soap operas and romcoms.

Like herself, Remus seemed out of sorts in the late winter, though more in the way of someone who had woken up long before they wanted to. He’d gone into the woods and returned dressed in his more normal attire, also having brought back a few changes of clothing that was closer to D.N.’s size, and of a finer make than anything in the Baker house, despite Rowan’s sister’s cautious attempt to find a fabric the fae child would like. For the most part, the rest of Rowan’s family treated D.N. with cautious courtesy, and a certain level of ‘not be alone in a room with him’. Remus, by contrast, was treated more as a benign nuisance, though not without kindness.  Frankly, that was more understandable than Rowan’s blase attitude. That didn’t stop a certain level of speculation as to why ‘Leif’ and his friend were staying with them.

     “I’ve figured it out!” 

Rowan balled a pair of socks and tossed it in her sister’s basket across the table. They were sorting the laundry by owner, and Rowan had made it her mission to find as many pairs of socks as she could. 

“Figured what out?” 

“What’s going on with Leif and the kid!” 

“Have you now?” Rowan said dryly and a little nervously. Her sister nodded. 

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it. The kid is the spawn of the last fairy king.”

“What.” 

“Look, it’s obvious that Leif served him, right? And we know he’s dead. So then Leif disappears for months and reappears with a kid? With scales? We know that Leif’s traveled outside Wickhills before- so clearly he knew where the kid was, maybe he was even the one who took him away, probably more of a Cronos eating his kids thing than a Arthur sent into hiding thing, and now he brought him back.” She pursed her lips. “You know, I bet Leif can change genders like a frog.”

Rowan started laughing. 

“Leif might even be the mother-” she went on. 

“Definitely not.” Rowan choked. 

“But he is related. I’ve connected the dots.” she said smugly.

“You haven’t connected shit.” Rowan retorted throwing a pair of pants at her.

“I’ve connected them.”

     As spring burgeoned forth, Remus agitated with the need to leave the house. It was clear he wasn’t used to staying in one place, even for a few weeks like this. Rowan could always tell when Remus had gone wandering in the night, because D.N. didn’t come down from the attic until he’d come back. It wasn’t as if D.N. was avoiding his so-called hosts, so much as he was totally avoiding the humans in the house as much as possible as if by pretending they weren’t there he could pretend none of this was happening. 

When spring officially arrived Rowan made them clothing, a shirt of heavy green broadcloth for Remus, and a more delicate shirt of the finest white linen she had for D.N. The shirt he generally wore was made of undyed silk, and Rowan feared that the substance had come from the shroud- or rather bag- she’d sewn for the bones of the Serpent King. It was tricky to give them, as D.N. certainly wanted no gifts from her, and Remus wanted to gift her in return. But it was simply tradition, that for the first day of spring everyone had a new garment. So her green brother and erstwhile guest needed something new too, for luck. Honestly, Rowan thought he could probably use all the luck he could get.

     It was a fine warm day in mid April, when leaves were finally starting to show, and only the most stubborn bits of snow were sticking around in the darkest shadows, when Rowan was working in her garden.

“Little tree! You’re wearing pants!” 

The whippy rose vine Rowan had been arguing with slipped out of her hand as the twist tie sprang from her other, and she took the momentary break to glare at Remus, who had appeared in her personal bubble with no warning whatsoever.

“I wear pants all the time.” she retorted, giving him a half hearted shove. 

“Yeah, but usually you have dresses over ‘em.” theatrically, he collapsed to the scrubby grass outside the garden and sprawled in the sun. 

“Well, I learned that arguing with rose bushes in a dress doesn’t end well for the dress.” She grabbed hold again with her gloved hand, and pulled a fresh tie out of her apron pocket, lashing the thorny vine to the wrought iron trellis that kept most fae out of her garden. They could, in theory, pass under the iron arbor that faced the wood, wreathed as it was in plants, but until Remus it hadn’t been much of a problem. “How are you doing?” she asked quietly. He was looking better. He’d been kind of wan, a sickly sort of green rather than his normal healthy hue like a ripening acorn. 

“Starting to feel my oats.” He responded, tipping his face into the sun. “It’s a good spring. I’d say that spring was happy about something.” in the distance, a door opened and closed.

“Seasons do seem to have emotions.” She agreed, and had to step delicately over him to get to the next bush, pulling clippers from her pocket and studying the bush thoughtfully, before pruning a few branches, and returning to tucking them in safely so they wouldn’t grab passers by too badly.  That done she carried the trimmed branches away. D.N. emerged from the widdershins side of the house, having exited the front door and walked so he didn’t have to pass the rowan tree, even if he could do so under the protection of the porch. He glared down at Remus with frustration. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Having a kip?” Remus suggested, as Rowan stepped over him again to get back to the rose bushes. 

“You should tell me as soon as you come back from the forest.” he said grouchily, not making eye contact. 

“Well, not much is going on, so there’s nothing to tell you.” Remus shrugged. 

“That’s good right?” Rowan asked. 

“A secret unsaid is a secret kept.” D.N. muttered, not addressing Rowan at all. “What are you doing out there anyway?” 

“Favors.” Remus sighed. “So many favors. I’m not exactly a favorite right now. People don’t want me to do favors for them, but I need the currency. Also fixing up my house.” he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s kind of out of the way, so it might be safe enough. It’s nice enough to visit with my little tree, but…”

“We can’t stay here forever.” D.N. agreed. “It buzzes.” 

“Yeah.” Remus nodded. “So I’ve got some improvements to make, and gotta reassert my territory. No one got near the tree, but I don’t have much around it.” he clicked his tongue “Fun and all, but I’m in a hurry.”  he made a kissy face at them both. “But I’ll always hurry back to you.” 

Rowan snorted, and D.N. rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and cocked his hip, glaring down at the green-clad fae. 

“I’m sure whatever you stay in is better than this.”

“Hey, owch. It’s a good house. We finally got the roof fixed last year.” Rowan glared, waving her clippers at him. D.N. leaned away. 

“Well it’s hardly the hovel I’ve seen other witches live in,” he sneered at the Victorian style house. “But it isn’t anywhere I would choose to stay.” 

“Sorry for not being a magical house.”

“Oh it’s full of magic alright. Human magic, thick and inelegant, like mud on the bottom of a pond.”

“I like mud.” Remus commented, popping up and bracing himself upright on his hands. Rowan noticed that his knuckles were reddened and split. Putting her clippers away again, she dug into her other pocket, coming up with a small, shallow clay pot, closed with a wide cork. She crouched down and grabbed one hand, dabbing the ointment onto the wounds. Remus obligingly offered his other hand when she was done. 

“Why was this in your pocket?”

“It’s better to get the ointment on big jabs right away, and I’m doing lawn work.” she shrugged, and went back to her work. 

After a while, Rowan finished her discussion with the rosebushes, and headed back inside without saying anything. Shortly after that, a car drove up hidden by the bulk of the house. Another short while later, it drove away again. Rowan returned to her garden, hooking her apron over her head again.

“Bloody busy-body is what she is.” Rowan grumbled to herself. “No need to come by every time, her tea hasn’t changed in over a year, if I wanted everyone coming by and bothering me all the time I’d start up a tea room in town and read palms and cards. It’s what I get for being helpful and offering to do a unique blend.” 

“Can you tell the future?” Remus asked, popping up on the other side of the hedge wall of rose bushes, making Rowan yelp and clutch her rake. 

“Like the weather.” She retorted. “Which is to say, not really worth anything.” 

“You’re a useless kind of witch, aren’t you?” sniffed D.N. who had taken up a seat in an Adirondack style chair they had acquired somewhere, and everyone in the Baker family hated, which is why it wasn’t on the porch.

“Yeah, kind of.” she didn’t rise to the bait, and watched him stare at the woods. “You could go, you know.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s keeping you here if you wanted to leave.”

“Little tree-” Remus said, sounding hurt. 

“Not you, you’re welcome any time. And for that matter, if he wants to go for a bit and come back, that’s fine.”

“I can’t actually. I have to ‘stay here’ until further notice.” 

“Oh right. Fairy parole officer.” Rowan sighed. “Well you could probably get as far as the property line, or where our ‘official’ lot meets up with the woods.”

“It isn’t as if I’m desperate to wander in the woodlands, Witch, I just don’t want to be here. At all.”

“Boy, do I hear that.”  she sighed deeply, pausing to look into the woods herself. The small leaves were misting the tips of the trees with color, and there was a smell of wet and rot in the air. It looked like a storm was building in the west.  It would probably hit the before nightfall, gathering the dark in the clouds and making the night come that much faster in the growing spring day. Better to get her gardening done before it hit, so she’d only have to repair the damage it did, not do that and the maintenance. The plants were being especially springy this year, and she was tempted to put this down to Remus’s presence. 

D.N. continued to watch her, as though she was some sort of reality TV show, while Remus sprawled in the scrubby grass next to his chair. 

When the first cold wet gust hit, all three of them headed inside.

     The storm was really having fun, so they were in Rowan’s room instead of the loft. Remus liked to hang out with both of them, so Rowan coming to work on whatever she was doing -some sort of project involving embroidery floss at the moment- and sit with Remus while Remus would root through her work basket, or bring out a pouch and do something himself- embroidery, or sharpening knives, occasionally woodcarving. Sometimes he’d sit behind Rowan and brush or play with her hair, braiding it into elaborate arrangements that she’d have to ask for help to undo.

Sometimes Danger Noodle would use Remus as a cushion or a backrest as if he was staking his claim. That night however, he’d pulled the beat up floral armchair Rowan kept next to one of her windows to a different window (further away from the dancing limbs of the rowan tree) and settled down with a book.

Rowan noticed that he would raise his hand and rub the back of his neck occasionally as if it were hurting. She nudged Remus’s leg and inclined her head at D.N. He shrugged.

“Are you in pain somehow?” Rowan asked, startling him into dropping his book.

“Kindly mind your own business.” Danger Noodle sneered. 

“Are you cold?” Remus asked. “You do-” he rubbed the back of his neck “lots.” 

D.N. growled under his breath, picking the book up. 

“It isn’t important.” He told them. 

“But it is a thing.”

“You never used to.”

He sighed, explosively. “Are you two going to leave me alone about this?”

“Well now I’m curious.” Rowan admitted tipping her head with a smile on her face that reminded D.N. far too much of Remus’s mischievous expression. If it weren’t for her obvious humanity, he would think they were siblings. “If you’re cold, I could get you a blanket, is all.” 

“I’m not cold.” he rolled his eyes. “I’m a winter.”

She looked unimpressed. “So what’s with the lounging in sunbeams?” 

Danger Noodle sneered at her, scales glinting in the lamplight. 

“It's just a feeling.  It’s like a cold hand on the back of my neck, it’s not squeezing but it’s there.” D.N. spread his fingers over the back of his neck.  “Like something’s watching me, constantly.” 

“Huh.” Remus and Rowan said in unison, heads tipping to the side. Danger Noodle glared, there was no way they weren’t doing that on purpose. 

“Might be something?” Remus asked thoughtfully, looking at the corners of the room. 

“I’d want to keep an eye on him, if it were me.” Rowan admitted. 

D.N. sighed again, exasperated, then Remus perked up digging in one of the many pockets inside his vest.  After a search he came up with a bag, tied firmly shut with cord. He climbed off the bed and went to kneel next to the armchair instead. 

“I made this for you.” Remus opened the intricately tied knot, and from inside the bag, produced a scarf. It looked like heavy silk of some sort, dyed a beautiful saffron yellow, covered in single-thread embroidery. Vines twisted and twined along it, with a snake hidden among them.  D.N. stared at it for a long moment, then recoiled. 

“Are you out of your mind? Wait, never mind I retract the question.” 

“I made it for you a while ago but…” Remus admitted. “You wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I’m not taking it now.” He stood up, tossing the book on the chair. “What makes you think I would even want it?” 

“You’re not as strong now-” 

Danger Noodle hissed, flashing sharp teeth, pupils narrow. 

“-so I’m going to protect you until you’re stronger.” Remus finished as if  he hadn’t just been threatened. 

“I am still stronger than you.” the young fae said disdainfully, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height.

“Are you though?” Rowan asked, setting her project down and watching them. 

“I am certainly more powerful than you.” 

“Oh, that’s not even a question.” 

“So what this looks like is Remus is offering you his favor to wear, showing that you’re his...  I’m going to say ‘ward’, because you’re a kid.”

“I am not a kid!” D.N. retorted, stamping his foot like a child. 

“And therefore under his protection. Displaying a connection.” 

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah.” Remus agreed. 

“Which is why I’m not interested.” 

“I don’t have to give you an oath to give you my favor.” Remus pointed out, he just stared up at Danger Noodle entreatingly.  The room was silent except for the storm outside, and the faint sound of someone watching a movie elsewhere in the house. D.N. rubbed the back of his neck again, and Rowan shivered, like a gust of cold air had made it through the window. Her eyes shut and she saw dead branches against a milky sky. Blinking the vision away, she got to see D.N. throw his hands in the air. 

“Uugh enough with the eyes. Fine. I’ll take it, but it doesn’t mean anything.” He accepted the scarf and looped it around his neck, spreading the folds upward to the base of his hair. 

“It means you’re wearing something I made you.” Remus pointed out and rose up, gathering Danger Noodle into a hug, to which he submitted, to Rowan’s surprise. “Which makes me happy.” 

“Mmgnh. Fuck off.” D.N. mumbled, face pressed to Remus’s bicep. 

Rowan decided not to comment on how cute it was.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader part 3

A/N: Part 3 is here you beautiful people! Sorry it this is long! I will be working on part 4 soon! And if there’s anyone who wants to be a part of the tag list, let me know so I can make a list. Thanks lovelies! 😊💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: Language. Violence and gore. Brief mentions of past abuse. Horror elements.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

It wasn’t long after till you arrived to your home with Harper. It was a gorgeous Victorian style manor that you fell in love with right when you laid your eyes on it. The way it loomed over when you looked up at it, to the dark brooding trees with twisted branches that resembled gnarly hands that seemed to lunge at you, down to the immaculate details that you couldn’t help but admire that covered the house. It reminded you of a life you once lived. When you were a child, your mother would tell you stories of how old houses, these old and beautiful things, in time, would somewhat become a living thing. She’d mention how they had bones and skin, were able to feel and breathe, and how they have seen many things. That phrase always used to spook you as a child. You used to think that your house was always watching you wherever you went. But now, you believe that if you took care of your home, “this living thing”, it would in turn take care of you, and become your safe haven.

You opened the door to your home and inhaled deeply, taking in the interior and the evocative scent that you managed to surround your place with. You loved to lay candles and incense about, filling your home with notes like pumpkin, sandalwood, dragon’s blood, musk, almonds, cinnamon, frankincense, and roses. It always made you feel more at home.

“Maleficent!” You called out as you took your shoes off as Harper did the same.

You saw movement in the far corner, seeing a small blur of black fur before you feel it rub against your legs.

“Hi Maleficent.” You cooed as you picked up your black cat with your gloved hands and held her to your chest, smiling with your eyes closed in content as she nuzzled against your scarf covered neck.

Maleficent let out a little mew as she stared up at you with those adorable big bright green eyes of hers, her purring vibrating through her chest as her abnormally large fangs poked out of her mouth. Times like these were sweet but heartbreaking. You loved Maleficent with all your being but you could never truly pet her. Thus your curse.

Harper geeeted Maleficent as well while she was still cuddled in your arms as you went into the living room, walking up to the large metal birdcage to greet your familiar, a Raven.

“Hi Edgar.”

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” He squawked as he stared at you with those mischievous black beady eyes.

“Oh please behave yourself Edgar.” You rolled your eyes before handing him a treat.

“I don’t need your assistance human.”

“Oh?” You raised your brow. “I don’t remember you sprouting a pair of arms to help yourself, unless, if I’m mistaken, your wings can magically turn into hands.”

“Well if I wasn’t stuck in this form I would be able to do as I wish, but woe is me.”

“I can’t believe you have a stupid bird as a familiar. Wish you got something cooler instead.” Harper rolls her eyes at Edgar as she passes by on her way to drop her things in her room.

“How dare you.” Edgar held his head high. “I am not just any bird. I am a great poet! A writer!”

My goodness, the drama on this bird. You had only met Edgar Allan Poe once, but now it looks as if the fame had got into his head.

“Harper! Make sure to do your homework.” You turn to call after her, only to hear her mimic your English accent.

“Did you just mock me?” You asked with a scoff.

“..........no?”

Maleficent hissed at Edgar, which made him spread his wings and squawk in threat. “Get that thing away from me!”

“Maleficent is harmless.” You rolled your eyes as you set her down. “Besides, it’s not as if she’s going to tear through your cage.”

“I get no respect around here.” Edgar let out a little huff before turning away from you, obviously giving you the silent treatment.

I swear to god this raven is the biggest brat.

“Suit yourself.” You shake your head before making your way to the kitchen to see Melanie preparing a meal.

“Smells delicious.” You tell her as you stand next to her. “Is that vegetarian shepherds pie?”

“It is! I know how much you like those.” Melanie smiles at you, before turning back to her food and gesturing to the the little strawberry tarts.“Et voici, tarte aux fraises. I hope they’re as good as the ones mama makes.”

“They look absolutely wonderful Melanie. And I bet they taste just as great as your mother’s.” You squeeze Melanie’s shoulder before you call out to your sister as you set the table. “Harper! Dinner!”

“Alright! I’m coming!” She shouts back at you, making you smile and shake your head.

“So I’m guessing you’re fine?” Melanie eyes you while finishing up her dish.

“I took care of it. I’m much better now, thanks.”

“And what about him? What about Jasper?”

“Jasper?” You look up at her, feeling that same tightness in your chest from the mere mention of him.

“Mon amie.” Melanie rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “I’m not stupid. I know how much he meant to you. I just want to make sure you’re okay, you know, after seeing him when it’s been so many years.”

“I was just, shocked, if anything. I never expected to come across him again.” You look down at your hands, playing with the loose threads on the sleeves of your sweater. “But, he doesn’t remember me, so I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you say so.” Melanie sighed, she knew you weren’t okay, and she knew how much his presence ate at you. But she didn’t want to pressure you into focusing on this subject.

The dinner that Melanie made that night was delicious, the perks of having a best friend that was French and a kitchen witch. You had to remind Harper not to scarf down her food so she wouldn’t choke, only to receive a glare, as always. After dinner you and Harper retired to your rooms while Melanie went back to her little cottage that she preferred to stay in that was right next door to your manor. Maleficent decided to sleep with Harper that night. You were already changed out of your clothes and into your long white nightgown, cuddling into your blanket to do your nightly reading of classic literature before crashing out from exhaustion.

The night was dark and foreboding, and the skies were pitch black like the ink of a pen, and the air was crisp as the wind blew sharply through the trees. The thick clouds blanketed the sky, concealing the stars of their beauty and stripping away any form of light besides the moon. It was a full moon that night. And despite the stormy clouds that desperately tried to overpower the moon, the moon still managed to cast some light, illuminating part of your bedroom in this haunting glow. You were lying in your bed, buried beneath your blanket in a deep sleep with the windows slightly down to let in the cool breeze. You had a few candles lit to add some light to your darkened room, when suddenly, your clock struck 3. The wind came to a stop, and your room became disturbingly still. Not a moment later the candles in your room strangely went out all at once, leaving you in complete darkness. There wasn’t the slightest sound, not even the hooting of an owl, nor the sound of a leaf falling to the ground. Everything was as silent as the grave.

Then, as if on schedule, the temperature in your room dropped drastically, and you shivered, clutching your blanket closer to you. Still in a state of deep sleep, you began to have a nightmare. You remember seeing yourself in a beautiful wedding dress. You were waiting for someone, but no one came. The scene slowly shifted around you, then all you could see was fire, this bright and threatening fire. You looked around but the flames were the only things you saw, it completely obscured your vision. The flames seemed to surround you, enveloping you in this smoldering heat. You felt yourself sweat profusely while desperately choking for air, but to no avail, the smoke burned your lungs, you couldn’t breathe. And then there it was, that horrifying noise. That blood curdling scream of a woman in pain. It was your own. Your agonizing screams pierced your ears and the stench of burning flesh stung your nose. It was your own. You looked down in horror to see the flames licking at your flesh, leaving behind these gruesome wounds. You were being burned. Your screams never ceased to stop, but they were muffled by the chants of others. You tried to cry out for help, but no one came. No one cared. You couldn’t even see the faces of the voices. You could only hear those chants, over and over again. It was only a nightmare. And yet, the pain felt real. It all felt too real.

You woke up abruptly from your nightmare. It felt as if your whole body was set on fire in this excruciating pain. You were drenched in sweat resulting to your hair being matted to your face. You tried gasping for air, you tried to scream. But no sound came out. You tried to move but you stayed frozen to your bed, you could only move your eyes. Your eyes shifted frantically around your room and widened in horror at what they saw. You saw your mother in the corner as she stared at you with these white, dead, lifeless eyes. A rope was tied around her bruised neck which was bent at an unnatural angle. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to cry out for help but you couldn’t, the only sound that came out was a whimper as you watched her walk towards you, wailing your name. Tears pooled in your eyes and fell down the sides of your face as the furniture in your room started to shake. You then saw your father appear before you, those cold and calculating eyes stared back into yours. You had his eyes, those cold heartless eyes, and that sinister gaze that terrified you as a child become your own. You watched as your father’s cloaked figure brought out his hands, displaying a whip in one and a heated branding iron in the other.

“(Y/N!) You insolent child!” He boomed in his raucous tone that made you tremble with fear. Bloody boils began to appear on his skin, gradually turning into decay as pieces of his flesh began to fall off, one by one, revealing the bone underneath. “Look at what you’ve done to me! You demon! You bitch!”

You shut your eyes against the terrifying image, your breathing growing more rapid by the minute. He wasn’t real. He died many years ago. He can’t hurt you. And yet, the pain that you now felt said otherwise. The long slashed scars that covered your back and the brand on the left side of your chest still burned as if they had just been inflicted.

There was a knock on your bedroom door, making you open your eyes back up.

“(Y/N?)” you heard Harper’s muffled voice on the other side. “What’s going on?”

She tried to open the door, but couldn’t. The door was locked. You tried to cry out for her, but you couldn’t. You still remained frozen. Your parents had disappeared, but now another ghostly figure stood at the foot of your bed. It was you. You saw yourself standing at the foot of your bed, wearing that same wedding dress from your dream with your face barely hidden behind the white veil.

You heard Harper call out for you again, struggling with the door handle, but your eyes remained glued to the apparition of yourself.

“We deserved this. We are monsters.” The face of this manifestation of yourself was blank and conveying no emotion, yet it was filled with such heartbreak and pain. You saw yourself erupt into flames, the veil burning away to reveal your scarred face as it reached a skeletal hand out towards you. “He could never love a thing like you. No one can.”

Tag List: @shakespeareanbooty @justine-en @5sosfanforever2001 @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @holyhumorliteraturelight @toomanybandstocare @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @ashdab2611 @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @seraphpheonix @bella-stenbakken

[sunflowersteves]

fright night || ch. one

vampire!bucky barnes x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s something mysterious about your neighbor (loosely based off of fright night).

author’s note: happy spooky season! hopefully, I’ll get this mini series done before Halloween

warnings: supernatural beings, a coffin, v spooky, mentions of abusive relationship (it’s vague but still there so just a heads up!)

series m.list // main m.list

You groan in frustration as you try to close your janky trunk, your bags sitting near your feet. You smile in accomplishment as you finally close the trunk, taking a couple of steps towards the house.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you see a moving truck outside the Johnson’s home, which was right next door. The Johnson's had lived there for as long as you could remember, their house was the biggest on the corner of the cul de sac.

Your curiosity grew even further as the movers carried out dark Victorian furniture. The house was already red brick itself, with Victorian-styled towers and ornate trims that enhanced the railings of the home.

You grabbed your bags and started to move to the front door, still watching the movers do their job. You stopped for a second as you could feel a cold stare, and goosebumps rose on the back of your neck.

You quickly whipped around to see a blonde-haired man, his hands resting on the patio railing, Victorian brown contrasted with the maroon accented door. He didn’t look away as you stared back, you almost felt like you were drawn to him.

Something about his blue eyes and glistening lips curled up in a sneer made you want to run inside but your feet felt stuck to the ground as though you were in quicksand. The strange man leaned forward slightly, getting a much better view of you and you opened your mouth, wanting to say anything and everything.

“y/n, is that you?”

Your mother peeked out the front door, the work clothes she wore were sticking to her. You turned your attention away, walked up a couple of steps, and greeted your mother. You turn away from her and look at the neighbor’s house, eyes searching for the man again.

However, when you turned over to look at the patio, it was like he was never there.

“You okay, dear?”

Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth slightly agape, turning towards your mother you nod slightly. She gestures you inside but you pause in front of the front door, you shake your head slightly. It felt a bit ridiculous to be so suspicious of a neighbor you’ve never even met.

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.”

You walked into the house and set your bags down in your bedroom. You walked back down stairs to see your mother cooking dinner, turning the noodles around with a pasta fork.

“How was your trip, dear?”

You take a seat on one of the bar stools in front of the island, sipping on a glass of water.

“It was good; not too much traffic.”

Your mother nods in approval and takes out plates from one of the cabinets for the two of you. She sets one of the plates down and spoons up the noodles with pesto sauce. She goes over to sit next to you, making a plate full of food for herself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up, dear?”

You swirl the noodles around your fork, thinking of how you were going to tell this to her. You knew it was going to sound ridiculous but you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that house.

“Do the new neighbors seem… odd to you?”

She placed her fork down and turned to with a raised eyebrow, “what do you mean ‘odd’?”

You shrugged, placing a napkin in your lap. “When I arrived, I had this strange feeling that someone was watching me and when I turned around this blonde guy was staring. It felt like… I don’t know, I just couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away.”

Your mom contemplated speaking for a second, trying to find words for your situation. A large smile floated onto your mom’s face.

“Was he handsome?”

You roll your eyes and pick up your fork again, shoving as much pasta as you could. Your mom takes a sip of water before turning towards you, a lot more serious than before.

“I know it’s been hard, dear. I can’t ever imagine what you’ve gone through with all the things that Brock put you through,” you stopped for a second, frozen by the sound of that asshole’s name.

“But, I think it’s time you tried to move on. I don’t want you to think that every person out there is like him. You just need to find someone that’s right for you.”

You drop your fork, letting it clang onto your half empty plate of pesto and noodles. Tears well up in your eyes, a sob escaping your mouth. Your mom gasps and jumps out of her seat, enveloping you in a hug.

“I’m just so scared.” You whispered into your mom’s arms, holding her as tight as you could. She sighed slightly, her grip on yours was as tight as ever. Her heart burned for you, wanting nothing more than to take your pain away.

“I know, dear. I know,” and she held you there for a while, letting you talk and cry out all of your fears. You hadn’t visited her in a while and it felt good to get everything out. You had talked to her about Brock before, but definitely not all the intricate details of his suffering he made you go through.

Your mom looked at her watch before turning towards you, “why don’t you get some rest? I’m sure your trip was exhausting.”

She kisses your forehead and you nod, muttering a goodnight as well. You walked up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. You started to unpack, the suitcase resting on your old bed. Not much had changed in the room, everything was mostly still the same from when you were in high school.

You paused for a second, then walked around the room reminiscing about everything before you moved out. You picked up an old sports trophy and giggled a bit, silently wondering what your old teammates were up to nowadays. Still smiling, you walked over to sit on your window seat; it was always your go-two sitting spot.

You had cried, laughed, spied on your hot neighbor, and gossiped with your best friend on that seat. You sit down on the fluffy cushions and stare out the window, wondering all the times you have sat here for hours and hours on end.

Night has finally arrived. Faint clouds converged around the moon and crickets sang their melodies. You could tell that the night seemed cold; little pockets of air had rushed through the old window making you shiver slightly.

A giggle escapes your lips as you see an old teen romance novel placed randomly on your dresser next to the window. You grab the book and turn some pages, remembering the plot in an instant.

You dozed off while reading the book, not noticing how late it was. You paused, checking your phone. You muttered a quick “shit” at the clock, since it was about 3:00 am now. You were supposed to wake up early in the morning to help your mom with some house work. So much for trying to get a good nights sleep.

You took a slight peak out your window, clutching the paper book in your hand. Then you freeze, dropping the book in your hand and letting it fall to the floor.

There were two of your neighbors, heavy fog whispering around them. From your childhood bedroom, it was harder to see from being so but there was no doubt in your mind of what you saw. There was a new mysterious man who was accompanying the blonde one you saw earlier.

His skin was quite faded, paler than anyone you had ever seen. His hair was a chestnut brown and his eyes were like the sea. He wore a dark sweater and his demeanor seemed different from the one you had met earlier. You shivered from the mere thought of his presence, you wanted to be closer towards him.

You honestly had thought you were safe up in your room, however, he seemed to notice you. His eyes flickered up to your window and his stare was so forceful, you wouldn't dare look away.

A smirk reached towards his face, seeming like he knew something but you didn't.

But the thing was, it wasn’t the fairly handsome neighbor that caught your attention. It was what they were doing that made you drop your book in fear and surprise. Your neighbors had carried a coffin up to the front porch.

A fucking coffin.

bucky barnes taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​

marvel taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​ @fandomsandxfiles​

permanent taglist: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @hailmary-yramliah​ 

[youngavengerscameos]

I've been playing Marvel's Avengers nonstop the past week or so (I remembered that public libraries stock video games and mine had a copy for a console I own helllllll yeaaaaaah), and I'm really, really loving the plot and character writing. Getting to see Kamala be the protagonist of a triple A game and watching her go from a scared 11 year old who just got powers to a teen hero who inspires the people she looks up to has been a delight. Every time there's a call back to the "Good isn't a thing you are, it's a thing you do" quote I clutch my heart like a Victorian who's about to faint from overwhelming emotions.

The Kate DLC (as well as the other ones) is free so thankfully I get to play that too. And my GOD I love their depiction of Kate. She is ridiculously hyper-competent in a way that's an utter delight to watch in cutscenes, she's funny, and the teasing sibling-esque banter she has with Tony of all people is really fun.

The mechanics of the game are serviceable, but I have a lot of minor complaints and pet peeves. The load times are horrendous, the non-plot relevant missions are repetitive, you need an internet connection and Square Enix account to play, and there's an absurd number of cosmetic items available via microtransactions, just to name a few.

I'd definitely recommend watching a Let's Play of the main campaign (especially if you like Kamala, Bruce, Tony, or Nat as they're the one's who get the most screentime) and dlcs. Personally I won't be buying the game, but I am glad I've had the chance to play and if they announce any future dlcs with other characters I love I'll definitely be borrowing the game from the library again

I don't have a way to stream or save videos longer than 30 seconds so I can't post my own videos of full cut scenes, but hopefully I can post some short videos, gifs, and screenshots of Kate

[undertaker1827]

ooie! platonic 21 Halloween headcanons with Sebs and Under?

I AM SO HAPPY THAT OPENED HIS ASKBOX😀😀😀

Riiiiight so I completely missed the holiday (so sorry) hope you enjoy anyway!! Aww thank you❤️

21] Tell scary stories

Masterlist

-

Undertaker

Okay so Undertaker tells the best scary stories

They all kind of take place in the Victorian era going into the early 1900s (Industrial Revolution and such)

You’ve gone over to see him on Halloween, either preferring his company over others or just not having anyone else nearby to celebrate with

He’s in the front room of the parlour when you get there, the same one he’s lived in since the 1800s

You insist that a good half of the cobwebs in the place are from the same time, clearly incredibly old and so thick with dust in places that you couldn’t see through them

The grime covering the single window also concerned you, though the candles and oil lamp (all for the aesthetic, my dear) always provided a welcoming glow

The two of you were sitting on top of a coffin in the front room (mainly in case any more trick or treaters came by) with the oil lamp between you casting strange shadows over your companion’s face

Undertaker trusted you, quite a lot in fact so he had his bangs pushed back and those intense chartreuse eyes showing

This made his stories seem more scary, more real, which he knew full well

He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he enjoyed seeing you scared of something as small as his stories, finding something so uniquely human in the fear you tried to hide

It encouraged him to think of other tales to tell you, because god if he didn’t want to bring that emotion further out, to probe it just a bit more and see what you did in response

He told one about a graveyard he’d been tending to one night in the 1870s, just doing a round and making sure everything was in order - mainly checking for graverobbers

He explained to you that some graves in those days were fitted with bells - those who could afford them, that was - in case it turned out that the person buried was, in fact, still living

But as the reaper was walking, rain coming down in torrents and his hair plastered down to his head with a shovel held over his shoulder, he heard a bell ring

He glanced sharply in the direction of it, not having sensed any living humans in the area since early in the evening

He strolled over with a casual look on his face, one belying remarkable interest

The bell rang again, more incessantly this time, until it just kept ringing constantly, not letting up once

Undertaker took the final few steps to the headstone

As soon as his boot touched the ground next to it, the bell stopped dead

The mortician paused in his regaling of his tale, eyes narrowed and glowing with interest as your pale, wide-eyed face stared back at him intently

Your hands were clasped together in front of you and he could practically see the chill crawling down your spine

It was raining at this point, coming down in hard sheets that pounded against the window

You were leaning forward in anticipation, begging him to go on as you couldn’t stand the suspense a second longer

As the bell stopped, the reaper took a quick glance at the grave: Nicholas Chambers, beloved father, uncle, brother and husband

“Help me, pl-please!” A mournful voice wailed, disused and rasping as a result

A series of coughs followed and a dull thud against a rotting wooden prison

“I need help, I’m trapped down here,” the voice started again, though Undertaker simply narrowed his eyes and scoffed

“Don’t think I’m gonna let you up right now, lad,” he called down, receiving a long wail in return, followed by a cried out ‘why not?!’

“’Cause, Mister Chambers, you were left six feet under in 1698!”

He began sauntering away again, ignoring the pounded that started against the lid of the decaying coffin, the angry yelling that rang through the sodden graveyard

“Rest in peace indeed,” Undertaker muttered, “think we’ll let you stay put a while longer.”

The horrified look on your face when the story ended was enough to send the reaper into a raucous fit of laughter, making you jump so badly that you flung an arm out at random, knocking over the oil lamp and shrieking as it shattered against the stone floor

The room was plunged into darkness and you were temporarily blind with the sudden change in light

You reached around with your hands in terror, trying to find the mortician

You heard a light giggle to your side then felt his arms around you a moment later

You clutched onto him immediately, fingertips trembling

“Daft thing,” he murmured “didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

Your lack of answer was enough to confirm to him that he had

Sebastian

Right

Sebastian is another one who tells absolutely brilliant scary stories

There was quite literally no one else you could see yourself spending Halloween with apart from him

I mean he is actually a demon, that has to count for something in terms of the quality of this holiday

You found that his apartment was tastefully decorated when you made it over there in the early evening

Well placed cobwebs hung in the corners and from the ceiling with dark candelabras positioned on various tables and shelves, black candles already burned enough to leave trails of wax down their sides

His adjustable lights were dimmed down and giving the whole place a warm, orange glow, one which was enhanced by the flames from the candles and the fire burning in the hearth

His curtains were drawn and the room was a comfortable temperature, a nice contrast to the freezing weather outside

He welcomed you in with a gentle hug, presenting you with a cup of tea moments later and elegantly taking the winter coat from your shoulders

He whisked it away to hang somewhere neatly, then you both went and sat down on the sofa together

It wasn’t like you came to the decision of ‘let’s tell spooky stories’, it just sort of ended up happening

Sebastian’s apartment was quite a long way up, meaning you could hear the wind howling loudly around the corners and battering the windows, adding a certain creepiness to the evening

The demon no doubt sensed that emotion on you and decided to use it to his advantage

He went so smoothly into his anecdote that you hardly even realised he’d done it, but your heart rate was picking up before you knew it

His story started on a barren Yorkshire moorland, with a young woman driving home from work late at night

It was the middle of winter and even with the heating on, she could feel the cold seeping in through every available join in the bodywork of the car

There were no other vehicles on the road, no pedestrians, no signs of life

As she drove on, a light mist started to roll in off the moor, soon coating the road and leaving her barely able to see a few metres in front of her

She simply slowed down and carried on, more than used to these sudden changes in weather

It was when she rounded a corner however, that she was forced to slam on her brakes

An old women was stood partially out in the road, hunched over and clutching a small bag to her stomach

She was dressed in black with a hood pulled low over her head, waving the car down

The young woman stopped, opened the window and asked if she needed a lift

In a few minutes they were off once again, the woman still with her hood covering her face

The driver seemed simply to realise something was off - a sixth sense, maybe - and took several discreet glances at her companion

It was only on the third or fourth that she realised; the ‘old woman’ had the hands of a young man

She continued driving on like before, waiting until the back window inevitably fogged up before apologising to her passenger, asking if she would be so kind as to get out and clear it so they could continue doing so

The old woman nodded, slowly getting out and making her way around to the back of the car

Only when she was well away from the door did the driver floor the car, flinching as the passenger door slammed shut at the sudden acceleration and glancing in the rear view to ensure the passenger was still standing in the road

She didn’t dare look back again when the man raised his hands to the hood of the cloak, terrified of what she might see

She sped on after that, a white knuckle grip on the wheel and mouth parched, though she would stop for nothing

She finally arrived home about half an hour later, breathing a sigh of relief when she pulled into her drive

Her back stiffened however when she saw that her passenger’s bag was still sitting on the seat next to her

Hesitantly, she picked it up and tipped the contents on the seat, only to leap backwards against the car door and gasp

The gleaming, sharpened steel of a meat cleaver reflected back at her and she was chilled to the bones as thoughts of what would have happened to her had she of thought any slower consumed her mind

Sebastian’s eyes were positively glowing when he finished, hearing your heart race and seeing the way your hands were trembling, even as you hid them in your lap

“Whatever is the matter, Y/N?” The demon asked with a smirk, “surely you aren’t that scared of a simple fable?”

He leaned forwards to pull you into a hug when you didn’t answer, shaking his head at how every muscle in your body was tensed and the way you held onto him immediately

This was another thing about humans that fascinated him; telling scary stories was one of the oldest traditions of All Hallow’s Eve that was still around, yet people scared themselves so much that they no longer looked upon it as a bit of fun, in some cases, at least

[letsloveimagines]

Title: One kiss or your soul

Pairing: Modern AU! Ivar the Boneless x female!demon!reader

Prompt: Where Ivar decides to my a deal with a demon.

Word Count: 4520

Warnings: a little swearing, satanic rituals, mention of monsters and death

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also,the rituals were based on Supernatural.

                                                          ♦⋅☆⋅♦ 

He tried to take a short walk that day, for the first time in months... His skin was now bone white, and Ivar knew he needed at least about ten minutes of vitamin D.

What he did not expect was the huge crowd that was on the street that blessed day; families gathered to talk animatedly, children playing with each other to discuss the disguises they would wear and all the sweets they would eat. The city appeared to be decorated with bats, cobwebs, scarecrows and zombies, lanterns and pumpkins. It was then, while he was surrounded by people everywhere and feeling his heart thundering, that he remembered it was October, Halloween more precisely, and the whole community was getting ready for the fun of that night.

The pain in his legs was already characteristic, his gait was sloppy and lame, and crutches were his longtime companions. But that never failed to attract attention as always, and that happened at that moment. The children who played looked at him laughing and pointing, talking to each other, the adults whispered and looked at him with pity.

Ivar hated pity.

And he hated even more how the attention of those shitty people made him feel, even though he was already used to it.

With a strong desire to vomit, feeling the sweat running down every corner of his body and trying to breathe, Ivar looked for any corner where he could take shelter. The small library across the street that seemed to be the only establishment without the festive theme appeared to be the best option. He was quick to cross the street - as fast as it was possible for him - to enter the establishment, greet the lady with the half-moon glasses behind the counter (who chewed blue bubblegum while filing her nails), and hid in the most distant place possible, among several decrepit shelves almost falling with the weight of dozens of books.

Ivar had sat on the floor, his back against the books and shelves, his head hidden in his arms and knees drawn up just trying to remember how to breathe. He was at the beginning of a panic attack, and being aware of it only made him even more distressed. He hated that it happened because of his useless legs and because of people he didn't care about. Why couldn't he have been born healthy like his brothers? The air did not seem to reach his lungs fast enough, leaving him almost choked and trembling all around, and with the world spinning around him over and over again.

It took a while, but it ended up after a few minutes of breathing exercises. The frustration remained, however, leaving him so enraged with himself and the world, that he punched the bookshelf behind him in an abrupt gesture. This hasty action caused so much noise that he was sure that the children across the street had been able to hear. In silence, swallowing hard and fearing he would be expelled to face the crowd outside, Ivar peered slightly at the librarian trying to see if she had heard it too. This one, however, had her back to him with the phone between her ear and shoulder, talking animatedly while continuing to take care of her nails, without paying attention to what was happening around her.

"No..." she exclaimed, certainly wanting to sound shocked, but looking completely delighted by what she had just heard. "Don't tell me that she really said that to you?"

More relieved, the boy leaned back against the bookshelf perhaps with more force than was necessary, as he immediately felt the wood behind him creak and the piece of furniture rocked from side to side. The dark-haired boy was quick to grab it, managing to keep it from tipping over, but not without a few books falling to the floor raising so much dust that it left his black pants almost gray. One of those books, due to fate, had not joined the others on the wooden floor eaten by the termites immediately, but had fallen on top of him, the hardcover hitting his head hard. Thankfully, the boy had been born with a head full of rich black hair capable of supporting the impact, or he could now have a bruise to take care of later.

Curiously, still rubbing his head with the free hand of his clutch, he looked at the cursed object. It was a book with a brown cover and black insignia and broken in the corners. In large and dark letters, in a font that looked like a victorian one he could read 'Monsters in the Darkness'. Interesting title, Ivar thought, quickly putting the other books on the shelf and flipping through the one that had caught his eye.

Looking at the watch on his phone that said it was still 2PM, and listening to the conversations outside, he thought why not.

He found himself a chair, shook off the dust with the back of his hand and began to read. The pages were turned quickly while Ivar, frowning, realized what the book was really about.

"What the fuck?" He asked in a low voice, amazed.

His hands held the book tightly, his eyes skimming over the yellowed and gnawed pages. Or maybe it was the mice, this place seems to be full of them, Ivar thought. It was true. That library was old, smelled of mold and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. But that was a good thing, at least for him, because it meant it was almost always empty. Whoever wrote this must be on drugs.

But he still didn't stop.

The more he read the more confused he became. The names and notes changed as well as the images, but they were all on the same theme: dark creatures and reports of sightings. Vampires, werewolves, spirits... creatures with claws and fangs, ferocious and with the ability to kill as easily as breathing.

The younger Lothbrok was confused but immensely interested. He didn't believe any of that, but it helped to pass the time. The boy always liked scary things, but he liked the real ones better, and those creatures that the book addressed had no way of being real. However, he was unable to drop the book.

His fingerprints passed smoothly through the written words and the drawn figures, feeling the depth of the ink on the paper. The words registered in his mind quickly as he read page by page, practically devouring the book in what seemed to him mere minutes, but in fact it was already three hours straight sitting in a corner of the moldy library, with a weak lamp beside him illuminating his reading.

He read so much until his blue eyes got tired and he was forced to rest for a few minutes, and until he was at the end of the book. The last theme was demons, but as soon as he turned the page to continue reading, he found… nothing, just the back cover of the book indicating that it was over.

Strange, he thought absently. And that page was even stranger, a few millimeters thicker than the others... almost as if it were glued.

He should? Looking again at the librarian who, admirably, was still distracted on the phone after three hours, Ivar grabbed the knife he always carried with him, opened it and carefully took it to the paper, making a small cut. As he suspected, the previous page was actually many more, and Ivar was eager to find out what it was about and why those pages seemed to be a secret.

> Of all the inhuman creatures that walk the earth, demons are the most evil. They desire nothing more than death and destruction, and not out of desperation or need as is the case with vampires who need blood to survive ... Demons kill and torture simply because they want and can, because they love the pleasure that the chaos of humanity brings them. There are those who say that they were also mortal once, but that their souls were corrupted so perversely in the depths of hell that they ended up becoming what tortured them. Blood, pain and death are all that are left behind when they pass.

> They are faster, more beautiful and stronger than should be possible. They are attractive and charming, in a way that hypnotizes a human. But they are evil, above all. Demons are separated into different sections depending on their personal power, or at least that is what we think. They are able to make a deal with a mortal, give us what we want for a while, but take away something they want afterwards. They are deadly dangerous… She, above all.

Ivar didn't even realize he was reading aloud until his voice started to crack, and he had to clear his throat so much that it looked like his throat was scratched. He wanted water, but he didn't have it, and he was not going to stop reading his interesting book now to fetch it. Frowning, he looked back at the page.

> It is not really known who she is or when she was created. Some say that she is Lilith, the first demon known by men and the mother of monsters... Others say that she is even older and her real name is lost, or forgotten by those who fear her. Now, she is known as Y/N, and as her there is no equal. Dark and deadly, she is Lucifer's right hand. But she is the most qualified to make a deal with, if they are brave enough to do so, and if they have something she wants.

Deal? What kind of deal? Ivar asked himself, and at that moment his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. When he pulled it out and unlocked it, a message from Alfred appeared on the display.

Alfred: Hey man, are you sure you don't want to join a horror movie marathon? It was going to be fun.

Oh, Ivar had completely forgotten about that. Alfred had already invited him a few days ago, but the long-haired boy hadn't given him the right answer since he was working on one of the chapters in his new book. He made a point of ignoring his family's thousands of missed messages and calls, however.

Ivar: Nah bro, I still haven't finished the chapter and I have until Thursday to deliver. I will probably be busy working on it for the next few hours. Sorry…

That was what I had to do as soon as I got home. It didn't take long to receive an answer.

Alfred: There is no problem, but you will have to compensate me. The marathon is next Saturday, okay?

Ivar: Yeah, sounds good to me!

He received a "Cool" as an answer and returned the phone to his pocket.

> Generally summoning a demon requires several ingredients: a devil's trap, fire (white, black or red candles), bowl with red-hot charcoal, salt, summoner's blood and the summoning words.

Ivar then proceeded to read what the ritual was like, along with the necessary Latin words.

> However, it is not advisable to do this. Once a demon is summoned and on the human floor, they are freed from the restrictions of hell. There is nothing to stop them from doing what they want. And if you try to summon her... Well, may God have mercy on your soul.

And so the book ended, with a phrase that at that moment seemed so scary.

His throat was dry, his hands were shaking again and for some strange reason he felt the sweat on his forehead and neck, the fat drops escaping the hairline running down his neck and back.

Should I? He thought, confused, it's freaking stupid, I know.

Ivar was a man of science, he believed in the real facts. Yes, he liked scary stories and mythologies - after all, one of his books dealt with Norse mythology - but he didn't really believe in it. And everything in that accursed book that had fallen on his head addressed unreal things, fictional things... Monsters created by the human imagination, by humans who wanted to blame their own evil on creatures that could not exist.

He was already closing the book and getting up to replace it, when he stopped and looked at his left hand, opened his palm and saw the half-moon wounds he had done with his nails in one of his attacks of anger.

He sat down again, staring at the yellowed pages. The dark, sharp letters and monstrous figures, with horns and cat-like eyes were everything he could see... that and his hands, always injured.

The earlier panic attack came back to him, his mind working at full speed. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his dark hair making a mess of locks fall onto his forehead and into his eyes, and he felt like pulling out each one.

The librarian was still talking on the phone, the children outside were playing, but all Ivar could think about was how hard it had been to breathe, and how much the walls felt like they were going to close and crush him in that moment when he was curled up on the floor hours ago, with useless legs at his side and that characteristic pain.

Why couldn't he just be normal?

"Fuck it." He grunted then, tearing up the page that contained the details of the ritual while making sure he was not seen, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He closed the book, got up, grabbed his crutch and went to put the book in a random place on the shelf where it belonged.

Without further ado, he passed the librarian who looked at him strangely again, still in that conversation (what kind of work allowed her to be on the phone for hours with no end?), And left the place that had been his hiding place in the last hours.

It was night when he returned home. The full moon shone overhead, and the children and their companions were already spotted in all kinds of disguises ringing the bells and knocking on the doors.

Upon entering his practically empty apartment, with only the minimalist decor here and there, he placed the bag from the convenience store on the couch, and pushed it away. The feet of the couch squeaked as they were dragged across the wooden floor and left a prominent mark.

He turned on the TV on a random channel and turned the sound down, just to feel a presence and have a light to illuminate, and closed the curtains on the window that was always closed too. He would never again make the mistake of leaving it open, the last time that Mrs.Rose's cat on the third floor entered the house in search of food, and left a mess of scratched furniture and broken cushions.

Taking a deep breath he took the materials he bought, and prepared himself.

Even though Ivar didn't believe it was going to work, he was still willing to try it, at this point he was desperate… The prices of medicines were high, the hospital bills were even higher, and even with his writing career going well, he continued to lose hundreds of dollars a month. Ivar was too proud to join his father's company, contrary to what his brothers had done. He wanted a job that was his own, and guaranteed on his own merit and not because it was in the family.

And he wanted to go outside and not worry about people seeing him because of his disability and dragging legs... he wanted to be able to live, not just survive.

For once in his life Ivar wanted normalcy.

He opened the box of chalk, took the page he still had in his pocket, and with the red chalk he drew the pentagram shown on the paper on the floor. The lines were more crooked than they were supposed to, but it should be enough to work.

He took the black candles, placed one on each of the five ends of the star, and lit them with a lighter. Then he put the charcoal in a bowl, lit it and watched it burn for a while.

He took the knife in his pocket, took the sharp blade to the index finger of his left hand and pressed hard, breaking the skin. Ivar saw the red drops begin to fall into the bowl, the blood sizzling as it came in contact with the burning coal.

And then he did nothing more than take a deep breath for a few good minutes.

Before being too afraid to continue - he wasted too much time and energy to stop now - he spoke, pronouncing each word slowly and correctly, in a calm tone.

"Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati maea. Te invoco apro funus inferni, Y/N." 

For a moment nothing happened it was just him there, in the middle of the living room, with a number of absurd things around him that if anyone saw him, he would be immediately sent to a hospital.

But suddenly he shivered. The floor shook, the walls shook, everything shook. TV and appliances, furniture, lamps, everything. The plates and glass bottles on the kitchen table rattled, toppled and broke into a thousand pieces as it fell to the floor. The windows seemed to want to open with the force of the wind outside that wanted to enter, whistling furiously. Ivar had to hold on to something when the earthquake suddenly got stronger.

And then…

The flames went out, leaving the wax to melt and hit the floor, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain it to the owner, the shaking stopped and the wind calmed down.

Ivar was left in darkness and silence, with blood dripping from his index finger to his pants, and breathing so fast that he had to open his mouth and inhale as deeply as his lungs could take to try to breathe.

Blood was pumping through his veins and hitting his ears, preventing him from hearing.

"You are such an idiot." The man said frustrated with himself. It was just an earthquake, which came just in time to almost make me believe. Later, when I turn on the TV, I’m going to see that all over the news.

He shook his head, and looked once again at the destruction in the kitchen and confusion in the living room. He was getting ready to go clean up the mess when the candles lit again - alone this time - they went up so high that they looked like they were going to reach the ceiling, beautiful dancers in red, orange, and yellow dresses. The firelight created strange shadows in every corner, tall and small, thin and wide.

And there, in the middle of the chalk-drawn pentagram, was a woman.

Ivar gasped in shock, stepping back several steps, almost falling into the sack of coal left there. The woman looked at him and he looked at the mysterious woman.

"Mortals." She almost spat, full of disdain. "Always so bold and wishing for more than they are due."

He didn't know what to say or how to react. He had hoped it would work but at the same time he didn't really expect it to actually work!

"So what do you want, human?" She said disinterestedly, looking at the chalk-drawn pentagram that held her in disgust.

"I want to make a deal."

"Oh really?" The way she spoke suggested that she thought the boy was stupid. "What is your name, mortal?"

"Ivar Lothbrok." He replied proudly, because as much as he hated his life, he could not hate his name.

"Cute." Y/N commented with an eyebrow raised in clear disdain. "Now tell me what you really want."

Ivar tried to swallow his anger, tried not to let it show on his face and mannerisms, but he couldn't. His eyes and jaw narrowed, his nostrils flared in fury, and his hands gripped the clutch so tightly that for a moment he was afraid to break it. "Look at me and tell me what you think I want!"

And she looked. She looked from head to toe, passing through his long dark hair, blue eyes and facial features, over his body and legs... those damn legs.

"I don't see anything too much."

If it were possible, Ivar would now be smoking his ears. The veins in his neck swelled and bulged, and his cheeks flushed with anger.

“All my life I have always been different from everyone else. If we still lived in ancient times, my parents would leave me in the forest for the wolves when I was born. My whole life has been a struggle, I am the youngest son and the one who had the misfortune of being like this. I'm not normal, I'm not like my brothers, and as much as everyone tells me that it doesn't matter… I can't help being angry all the time.” Ivar confessed, forcing his grip on his clutch. “I was born with broken legs, I spent my entire life in hospitals and being inspected by the doctors. And now they said they think that I will get worse and stop walking completely. Being healthy is what I want.”

There was silence for a long time, while the human and demon looked at each other.

"Yes, that is possible."

"Then give it to me!"

The demon's laugh was loud, hoarse and cold, and her face was full of disdain. But then it changed in front of him, becoming something out of a horror movie. The beautiful woman was gone and now there was something much worse. It was an almost grotesque sight in his human eyes. A dark and without beauty female figure. A pale face and half cadaverous; black lips and sharp teeth like a dagger blade. Completely red eyes shining with hunger and malice. Two long horns protruded from between the hair with something sticky like blood.

Ivar's extremely blue eyes widened, he backed away almost falling again in that damn night.

“Honey, this is not how it works. Do you really know who you are talking to? Do you think you can boss me around? Do you expect me to do something to you without giving me something in return?” She said in an ugly, guttural and chilling voice, smiling devilishly revealing a long, almost snake-like tongue.

"As long as you're in that trap, you'll have to do what I want." He tried as hard as possible not to let his voice falter, but he still couldn't.

"Oh really?"

And as if just to prove her point, she took a step forward, approaching and crossing the crooked lines that formed the pentagram leaving the trap completely.

“Deary, you should have done your research better. With a normal demon, perhaps this lowly trap could have worked, but with me? I am something much worse than a simple demon, and by invoking me you have left me completely free to do what I want. ”

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

Ivar's heart was pounding in his chest, almost as if it was about to explode at any moment, and his fragile legs were shaking so much that he didn't even know how he was still standing.

"I want to be able to walk freely, run, jump... Do everything I can't right now. Please..." She seemed to want him to beg, but Ivar didn't. He could put aside some of his pride, but not that much.

They stayed close to each other, he deathly pale looking in amazement at the bottomless red pits that were her eyes, her sharp teeth, her black lips full of darkness... Until she opened a toothy and devilish smile, and little by little her demonic features retreated, disappearing into her skin again and making her look like a human woman again… and a beautiful one.

She walked away still smiling amused, letting out a little laugh. "Usually I give you what you want and you have ten years to enjoy it."

Ivar's heart gave a huge leap in his chest. "What happens at the end of the ten years?"

"I keep your soul…” Y/N shrugged, assessing her sharp nails before looking at him and raising her left eyebrow, still with the crooked smile on her lips. “Which means that at the end of these years, you die. "

Ten years, thought Ivar. I always knew that I wouldn't live long, anyway. But...

"Usually?" He gave voice to his thoughts.

“I liked you, you seem to have courage... You were brave in trying to challenge me, stupid, but brave. I'll give you what you want, in exchange for... ”The woman seemed to think for a while. “… a kiss.”

"A kiss?" The young man thought surprised and in other words, extremely incredulous. With everything she could ask of him, she just wanted a kiss? The book should have been mistaken, it was impossible for this demon to be so dangerous if Ivar is the one that actually wins with the agreement between them.

"A simple and small kiss." She repeated, seeing his puzzled expression. "It's one kiss or your soul, you choose."

"We have an agreement, then." Ivar said.

"Great." Y/N smiled, making her eyes blood-red again.

She came over, put her hand on his neck and pulled him forward until their lips were timidly shocking at first, but quickly turning into a fleeting and toothy kiss, with their lips moving in sync and their tongues caressing one another. She tasted like danger... And it was a good taste.

When they pulled away, Y/N still had the smirk on her mouth when she snapped her fingers, causing him to make a huge cry.

He felt excruciating pain like never before, his legs seemed to be on fire, they burned so much, the pain was horrible. It felt like all of his fragile bones were breaking and growing, only to break again. Ivar fell to the ground screaming so loudly that his neighbors probably thought he was being murdered and would be ready to call the police at any moment.

It hurt, but it passed. Sweat ran down his face, his hands were shaking, his body was shaking. But when he got up again without the help of a crutch, he had never felt better, his legs were… healthy, normal, complete… healed.

"I- I can't believe this..."

"You have what you want, and I got what I want. "

Something about her facial expression seemed wrong, Y/N seemed too delighted just for the simple reward she had won.

"The kiss wasn't the only thing you wanted, was it?"

"No, it was not."

"We had an agreement! What do you-"

"Has anyone ever told you not to mess with things you don't understand?" She stroked his face, with a smirk on her lips. "Honey, you belong to me now."