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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

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Gilded Cage - Choose Your Own Whump

Here it is! My first attempt at a choose your own adventure type of whump story. In this story, Villain is kept by the Heroes as a prop for the media-- but what will they do when a rare chance at contacting the outside world presents itself?

CW//Imprisonment, collars, shock collars, villain whumpee, implied torture, panic attacks

There was something about a gilded cage that made it worse than any other type of imprisonment.

Sure, it was comfortable. You were well provided for, fed and watered incredibly generously. But that, in and of itself, was one of the worst parts.

Being imprisoned, locked away in a cell somewhere with a big heavy padlock over the door, it meant that someone thought you were dangerous enough to require that kind of security. In the most minuscule way, it was a display of respect.

But a gilded cage of comfort and warmth? It meant that your captor believed you to be domesticated. Docile. Too soft and serenely mannered to even bother chaining up.

Of course, that didn’t make the lock on the door any less real. It just made it that much more humiliating.

Villain groaned as the sound of knocking echoed through the room. They pulled their plush duvet closer to themself, sinking deeper into their unbelievably soft mattress.

“Lunch is ready. Get up. And make yourself look presentable, we have visitors.”

They were too tired to tell which of the Heroes was speaking, but it didn’t matter all too much. Their voices all blended together, after a time. All characterized by overwhelming politeness and platitudes, with a subtle undertone of annoyance.

If anything, the way they spoke was worse than if they had just yelled. They hated Villain, that was clear and that was expected. If only they would just say it out loud, instead of letting their tone speak for them.

Again, Villain grumbled, sitting up in bed and blinking blearily a moment. The bright red digital clock on the wall mechanically informed them that it was almost noon.

They just wanted to go back to sleep.

Of course, that wasn’t an option. They’d tried that. Tried hiding under the blankets and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. But it did, even as they hated it.

They pushed the blankets aside and got up, knowing full well that they would return to a bed made with military precision. Wandering over to their wardrobe, they couldn’t help but wish that they’d been informed earlier that they were expecting visitors. But, of course, when did anyone ever tell them anything.

Eventually, they selected a nice suit top in a dark maroon hue, along with matching pants. A presentable outfit, and hopefully fancy enough for whatever guests were being expected. It was almost certainly a news crew, or a government agent-- they came at least three times a week.

Clothes folded over their arm, they shook their head to clear their vision of sleep and made their way to the bathroom.

As always, the mirror was immaculate, stretching the whole length of one wall and going all the way up to the ceiling. Looking at it made them want to smash it to pieces, but they quelled their own anger quickly. It served no purpose.

They didn’t have to look at it. They could have just as easily closed their eyes, changed their clothes and ran out of the room. But they couldn’t. Though they had no clue as to why, some horrible force compelled them to raise their head, and stare directly into the eyes of their reflection.

Villain wanted to cry. Had this been a few months ago, they would have. But they’d long since mastered the art of choking back tears.

The person in the mirror-- they didn’t recognize them.

Sure, they had the same facial structure as Villain, the same eyes, and the same, well, everything. That was except for the layers of makeup covering them, clearing any imperfection and turning it into a glowing highlight. Not to mention their hair-- every two weeks or so, they’d have it professionally styled. What had once been a head of long, curled locks had been cut short and ironed straight. Apparently, that was the style that was currently “in.” Not that they’d had any choice in the matter.

To look presentable.

They washed the makeup from their face as best they could, knowing that whatever artist the visitors had brought with would do it again, in whatever way they liked it. Putting down the washcloth, they moved to unbutton the front of their nightgown...

But their hand drifted instead to their neck.

It was an instinctive motion, almost. A ritual. They unfolded the collar of their nightgown, pulling down the neckline, until the device was fully visible.

That was what the Heroes always called it. A “control device.” As if it was some kind of scientific advancement, some amazing invention.

It was nothing like that.

The device was a simple loop of metal, going around their neck, tight enough nearly to choke them. To remind them that it was always there. On the outside, the metal was smooth, marred not even by any kind of mechanism that would allow it to be removed. On the inside, however, they could feel the tiny studs, pressing against their flesh.

They didn’t think of it as their collar. They tried not to think of it as their collar. They tried not to think about it at all, in fact. But, every second, every breath they took, they could feel it. Even if it weighed less than a pound in actuality, to them, it felt to be made of the heaviest lead.

Weighing them down, ready to strike at any moment. Each and every one of the Heroes had one of the collar’s remotes. A simple press of a button, a simple click, and Villain would be writhing on the floor in agony. Every time one of the Heroes gave them a side-eyed look, they felt their stomach flip, waiting for the shock. For the horrible, horrible pain.

They tried to fit their finger between the device and their neck, though there was little avail. Still, even if it was only slight, they could feel on the tip of their finger their own charred skin.

Anxiety rose in their throat, twisting their stomach in knots. They shook their head. No. They had to get ready, and they were running out of time. The visitors were probably already waiting. In a practiced motion, they undid their nightgown and dressed in their far fancier outfit.

Even as they reached for the door handle, though, they could see their hand shaking.

It was just lunch. They’d been doing it every day for months. They could do it. They could do lunch.

It was just lunch.

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The dining table was a beast of wood and metal accents, stretching for the whole room, leaving only room for the dozen and a half chairs surrounding it.

Generally, the majority of these chairs would be empty. There were only so many Heroes, and generally their various sidekicks and assistants did not eat with them. Today, however, every last seat was filled.

They wore no identification, but Villain already knew who they were. A news crew. Journalists and cameramen and reporters. They hadn’t seen this particular crew before, but that didn’t mean much of anything. So many came through Headquarters that they all seemed to blend together.

As Villain emerged through the large, mahogany doors, every last one of the newspeople turned their heads. A few even appeared frightened. One among them gasped.

It was how they always reacted, the first time. They opened their mouth without speaking-- they had practiced their script so many times that it came to them as easily as breathing.

“Good afternoon, everyone. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the head of the table, Hero nodded in approval. Villain lowered their gaze and retreated to their seat, among the Heroes.

Even after so much time, it was hard to think of them as anything but hands, ready at any moment to press down on their remotes without so much as thinking.

That was the only good thing about having visitors. None of the Heroes would dare to use the collar when company was around. Each and every shirt that Villain owned was specifically chosen to hide the device-- no one else knew. A shared secret of dominance.

“Well, we’re so glad to have you here.” Hero smiled, looking out over the table. “Our food should be out in a moment. What all are you looking to be filming, today? Or photographing? I’m no expert on this type of thing, I must admit.”

It was a blatant lie. Hero knew everything there was to know about PR. They could wield the media better than they could wield their own powers.

“Well.” The person who seemed to be in charge of the news crew spoke up. “Did you receive the clothing shipment a few days ago?”

“We did, yes. I almost forgot, silly old Hero. Forgetful as ever.”

“No worries. We wanted to get some photos of you wearing them-- they were custom made, by an Italian designer. Supposedly the start of some kind of new line. They call it “Be Your Own Hero.” It’s a little cheesy, but that’s fashion for you.”

“I’m sure it is. Is that all, then?”

“Mostly, yes. Though...” They bit their lip. “In light of recent events, we were wondering if, perhaps to supplement another story, we would be able to interview Villain? If you’re okay with it, of course, Villain.”

“Of course.” Villain smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

Hero nodded their agreement, though their eyes betrayed their tentativeness.

“Just Villain? I don’t believe the rest of us are too busy today, we would have plenty of time to speak to you, as well.”

“I don’t want to be impolite, but I’m sure you understand that this matter concerns them specifically. Maybe we could incorporate some quotes from you?”

“Don’t worry, I understand completely. That should work out just fine.”

Villain couldn’t stop themself from nervously twirling the cuff of their shirt. Whatever this ‘event’ was, they had no clue, and they most certainly didn’t want to give an interview about it. They’d been trained to do interviews, but never alone, and most of the time they just gave a few cursory answers while the Heroes took the spotlight.

Still, they couldn’t refuse. If Hero said they were doing the interview, then they were doing it.

They were a prop. They knew that. At the very least, they could be a good one.

A tinny bell chimed as the door to the kitchen opened, and an array of staff brought out a series of plates. Villain feared that they wouldn’t have much of an appetite.

Their collar was choking them. They could hardly breathe.

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It was amazing just how quickly the news crew had turned the front hall into a full-blown studio. Lights and backdrops and all kinds of equipment that Villain didn’t recognize were set up in dazzlingly bright arrays, making any movement a tripping hazard on account of just how many cables snaked about the wood floor.

The makeup station had been set up against one wall, with five chairs and countless boxes of powders and creams. Villain gripped the arms of their chair, doing their very best not to flinch or sneeze as a stranger dabbed blush onto their cheeks. Even after so much time, it was one thing they could never quite get used to. A stranger touching their face, moving their head about. They hated it.

But they did not protest. They sat as best as they could, muttering desperate apologies any time they lost control and jerked their head away from the invading touch.

Next to them, they could hear as the Heroes, one by one, were finished as got up from their seats. Chatting with different news people, laughing at their stupid jokes. Metal wheels whirred as clothes racks were pushed about.

“There you go.” The makeup artist smiled, speaking in a disgustingly chipper tone. Villain fluttered their eyelids open, at least glad that it was over.

Still talking with the different photographers and the like, the Heroes began drifting away, towards where all the lights and cameras were set up. Villain could already feel themself growing anxious. Sure, they hated the Heroes as much as anything, but at least when they were nearby, they could ensure that Villain was acting right. Feed them their lines. Keep up the facade.

Unsure of just where to go, they waited in the makeup chair. They fought to keep their gaze away from the door, the massive swinging wooden panels that led right out onto the street. To freedom.

Their kept their eyes fixed firmly on their shoes.

They weren’t sure exactly how long they stayed like that. Staring. Listening. The cameras on the other side of the room had already begun to flash.

At some point, after at least 15 minutes of sitting and waiting, obedient and docile, someone came up to them. A simply-dressed reporter, sweater vest and all.

At the very least, they didn’t have that stupid smile on their face. The media smile. The smile of glowing PR.

“Hello.” They were nervous, it was clear. More than just a little nervous, for that matter. “Um- You’re Villain, right?”

They looked up.

“Yep, that’s me!”

It made them feel sick.

“O-Oh. Okay. Um, my name is Journalist. It’s nice to meet you...?”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Journalist!”

“Are you ready for the interview?”

“Sure am.”

“Okay. Uh- Oh, wait.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Your shirt is inside out, I think.”

Villain felt their heart jump to their throat. It was an honest, simple mistake. They hadn’t even noticed. Yet, if the Heroes were here, it was certain that there would be retribution. Would they find out? Were they listening, right now? Ready to shove Villain into some back room to push their stupid buttons? Footsteps- oh god, was that them? Oh god oh god oh god-

“Hey, uh, can you hear me?”

“Sorry. I think I spaced out a little, there.”

“It’s fine. It’s no big deal. There’s a bathroom over there, so we can just fix your shirt quick and get onto the interview.”

“Sounds good.” They shook their head, shaking themself back to wakefulness. Once they were sure that they could, they stood to their feet. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“Um... They told us not to leave you alone.”

“What?” It came out more like a whisper.

“Yeah. It’s okay, um, I won’t look or anything. It’s just a security thing, I think.”

“Oh. Okay.” Villain swallowed.

Their heartbeat firmly moved to their throat, now. They hoped the shaking in their legs could not be seen as they and Journalist moved to the small bathroom, right off the side of the hall.

Villain stood in the corner, with Journalist sitting on a chair that was sitting in the corner opposite.

It was just a simple fix. It was fine. Everything was fine, it was okay.

Hands trembling as though an earthquake raged below their feet, they reached for the hem of their shirt, pulling it up and the sleeves off their arms, slipping it off over their head and working to flip it.

It was only the feeling of being watched that led them to look up at the young journalist, sitting in the corner. Eyes fixed on them.

More specifically, on their neck.

“Um... What is that? Villain, are you okay?”

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What should our Whumpee do? It’s up to you to decide!

There are two options, each one leading to a separate story branch. Alongside each option is a question specifying what exactly will happen. Answering this question is completely optional, but it is great if you have any particular ideas! Otherwise, feel free to just put a letter.

To vote, feel free to use any means you would like to contact me. Replying or reblogging this post works just fine, as does PMing me directly or sending me an ask. I am unsure when I will be writing the next part, so as long as the next part hasn’t been posted yet, voting is still open!

I will choose the story path based on which option has more votes, and will choose whichever answer I find the most interesting to base the next part upon.

The choices and questions for this part are as follows:

A) Tell the truth - How much should Villain tell Journalist?

B) Lie - How should Villain explain away the collar?

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me. This is my first time doing anything like this, so I apologize if it’s odd or confusing ^^

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #choose your own adventure #gilded cage #imprisoned whumpee #villain whumpee #captivity whump

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

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Side Effects- Complete

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids (M/F Primary: Y/N x 3racha)

Warnings: Smut, Language, graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, non-con elements

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Word Count: 13K

Summary: Y/N just wanted a normal life, attending to her studies while earning the degree she’s always dreamed about. Unfortunately, her funds are running low and she’s increasingly desperate for money until she finds an advertisement online. Although she doesn’t know much about vampires, she decides to take a position as a blood donor to the mysterious Miroh Coven, unaware of the consequences of her fatal decision.

It had been almost six months since the incident. 24 weeks of paranoia, glancing over my shoulder in response to unexpected movements and sounds. 182 days of watching the bruises slowly fade from my skin, dark circles under my eyes gradually succumbing to the much-needed 8 hours of sleep I managed with the assistance of medication and my new roommate who always welcomed me in her bed when the nightmares progressed. Finally, it seemed like things were getting better with each passing day further and further away from the traumatic event that had changed my life forever.

I could now walk by myself at night without the risk of breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. I could finally keep down the food my roommate prepared for me without the familiar feeling of nausea churning my stomach unpleasantly. I could finally find a job to support myself, working full-time as a Secretary at a company with full benefits and a reliable 401K.

They were gone from my life, taking the pain and suffering along with them. I was better now and I was determined to turn my life around because I was a strong and independent woman who should’ve known better. But I had been desperate back then, working through my college degree while my savings account was slowly drained. I wouldn’t be able to finance my Senior year and the idea of giving up on my education so close to the finish line had almost broken me in half.

That’s when I first saw the advertisement, promoted through Google’s convoluted Adword system. It was like an answer to my prayers, everything that I had been searching for wrapped up neatly with a handy URL link that took me straight to the source. I remember reading the advertisement with greedy eyes, unhesitating when I clicked on the “Apply Now” button:

ATTN:

Looking for a reliable blood donor for an estate of 8 young men belonging to the Miroh Coven. Preferably female with a blood type of O negative. Please send in an application ASAP.

Vampires weren’t uncommon in our society, though the government had heavily restricted their creation since a dramatic increase in population. Now, the government required notification if a Coven planned to initiate a new member. It was all a dramatic affair meant to prevent fledgling vampires who were more prone to violence and chaos. Of course, there was the occasional rogue who turned humans against their will simply because they couldn’t handle their blood-lust. However, more often than not, Coven leaders knew how to keep their members under control.

Blood donors were also not uncommon. Covens often hired several different donors to keep around when they required access to fresh blood. It was a practice that was initially met with hesitance from the greater public, but when Vampires proved they could handle themselves better around a reliable blood source, the government gradually acquiesced.

I had never given much thought to Vampires or Blood Donors until I saw the advertisement. More specifically, until I saw the amount of money this Coven, in particular, was willing to pay for their donor. It would be enough to pay my college tuition and keep money in my savings account to pay for rent and food. Since the new semester was rapidly approaching, I needed to pay for tuition immediately and provide a deposit for an on-campus apartment.

In hindsight, it was probably a foolish idea to jump headfirst into the application without doing proper research. Case in point, questioning just exactly why this obviously wealthy and established Clan needed a blood donor immediately. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated at the obvious sense of urgency behind the advertisement. I might have wondered what happened to the Clan’s previous Donor, but I was simply enraptured by the dollar signs and refused to consider that this could be a very bad decision.

It only took a few days before I received a notice on the application, requesting an interview at the Miroh Clan’s address. I remember feeling excited by the opportunity, dressing in my best slacks and blouse. I drove with barely constrained enthusiasm, singing along to the ridiculous pop song playing on the radio even though I really preferred classical music. But this was a special occasion and I was potentially meeting with someone who could change my life and allow me to finish the remainder of my education in luxury.

“Tuition is due this Friday,” I reminded myself, gaping at the giant Mansion gated in circumference by an ancient wrought-iron fence. “Remember to tell them you can start immediately, Y/N.”

I checked my make-up in the rear-view mirror before opening the door, heels clicking obnoxiously against the sidewalk. My first impression was rapidly becoming something like a passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula as I ascended the steps to the front gate, smashing my finger against the button on the elaborate security system. The gate opened without warning and I jumped back in surprise, hand fanning against my chest as my heart nearly skipped a beat or two in my chest. “Relax, Y/N,” I said, smoothing down my slacks.

Despite it’s older appearance, it was obvious that the grounds of the Mansion were well-kept and I took note of the elaborate display of hydrangea’s lining the walkway to the front door. I presumed the Miroh Coven likely hired someone to do the work for them, especially since it was a known fact that Vampires generally disliked the sunlight as it bothered their enhanced senses. In any case, I was prepared to meet a bunch of older men who had perhaps lost their last client to old age or something. Instead, the man who opened the front door looked like he could attend the same University as me. Dressed impeccably in a dark mahogany suit, the man straightened his tie before offering me a relaxed smile. “Y/N?”

I nodded my head, trying not to react to the sight of his sharp incisors glinting menacingly in the light. “My name is Bang Chan,” he said, offering me an outstretched hand. “I’m the leader of the Miroh Coven.”

I shook his hand cautiously, aware of the strength in his arms highlighted by the bulging veins visible from the upturned aspect of his shirt sleeves. “Nice to meet you,” I said, recovering from the unexpected appearance of my potential benefactor. I had not anticipated meeting someone so obviously young.

“Come inside,” he said, opening the door further to welcome me into the shadowed hallways of the Miroh Mansion.

Present

“What else will you do?” my roommate asked with a pout.

I continued to read my book, far more concerned with the fate of my beloved heroine as opposed to my roommate’s desire to find free alcohol. “This,” I said, reclining further back against the comfortable stretch of pillows.

“Y/N,” my roommate chastised me softly. “I know why you don’t want to go and they’re just gonna win if you keep insisting.”

I tensed at her words, fingers mangling the corners of the pages. My roommate knew everything about my last situation because she was often the recipient of my screams when the familiar nightmares flooded my dreams. “They already won,” I grumbled. “I can’t even watch a vampire movie without losing my mind.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” my roommate asked. “They’re thousands of miles away and you haven’t seen them for months.”

“Seven months,” I informed her curtly. “And I’d like to go for eight.”

“Y/N,” my roommate groaned. “You told me that you used to love parties.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe someday I’ll go out with you, but for now this is the best way I can cope.”

My roommate nodded, messing with something in her bag before approaching me on high heels that were just bordering on too tall. “Here, I found this is the laundry room.”

I held out my hand absent-mindlessly, not really considering what she had given me until I pulled my attention away from the book. When I finally realized what it was, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen followed by a wave of nausea that left me tossing my book to the side before bolting for the bathroom. “Y/N!” my roommate called my name, but I was already expelling the contents of my stomach, groaning from the sickness.

Because the item now discarded next to me was his necklace and I could have sworn I threw it out with their other gifts when I finally attained my freedom from their clutches…

I was completely spent, lungs still seeking additional oxygen and legs sore from where they were wrapped around his. Chan was always rough when he was feeling particularly possessive, hands determined to bruise every inch of my skin along with the deep marks from his fangs. He had taken a lot of blood and despite the offered chocolate now discarded on the side table, I was incredibly light-headed.

“Y/N,” Chan said, fingers tracing a rather nasty bite mark he had left on my shoulder. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” It was difficult, but I managed to turn my head enough to meet his gaze, startled by how red his eyes glowed under the influence of fresh blood. Chan’s fingers traced along the edges of my lips, forcefully inserting themselves inside and I managed enough strength to lightly tongue my way across the tips. He shivered at that, removing his hand before reaching behind him for the gorgeous necklace I had noticed briefly on his nightstand before he had pushed my face into the mattress. “For you,” he said, helping me into a sitting position so that he could clasp the chain around my neck, golden pendant hanging heavy between the dips of my collarbones. “Perfect,” he soothed into my ear, growling around a husky “mine” before he was kissing a trail down the side of my arm.

Present

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that only responded to three painkillers washed down with a glass of cold water. It was a Saturday which meant I had the day off from work and I couldn’t be more grateful. After last night’s incident, I had finally managed to convince my roommate to go out and have fun while I dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The only way I could calm myself down was by repeating assurances that I must have forgotten Chan’s necklace in the small bonfire I had made of the expensive things they had bought for me. It must have gotten stuck in the bottom of my pocket which explains its presence in the laundry room. There was simply no other explanation. But a shiver still ran its way down my spine when I recalled the way Chan had looked at me before I bolted out the front door. “I will always find you,” he had snarled the warning before I was lost into the unforgiving darkness of the night.

I ran home from the hospital, throwing my belongings into a suitcase before booking a one-way trip back home, far away from these horrible monsters who I had willingly entertained for the past year of my life. The only positive was the fact that I had graduated which meant I was in no way expected to stick around any longer. Instead, I uprooted up my life and moved back home where I felt safer, finding my current roommate who willingly offered me her unused second bedroom. I could’ve afforded to live alone, but there’s no way that I could manage a solitary arrangement without losing my mind. And I didn’t have my parents because I was far too prideful to crawl back to them considering the unfortunate way our last encounter had ended when my father told me that I could never amount to anything on my own.

They wanted me to attend a local community college before marrying the son of my dad’s business partner to demonstrate loyalty between the two brands. There was no way I would allow my parents to strip away something that belonged exclusively to me. My mother had ranted all night long when I missed my scheduled reservation, telling me that no boy would ever want me. I wish she had been right because I might have avoided the eight consecutive nightmares who entered my life one by one with every intent of bringing me down.

Regardless, I couldn’t change the past if I wanted to focus on the future, and I was doing well for myself these days without my parents or the Miroh Coven. I was assured that I could get through this unpleasant stage of my life because I had every intention of rising through the ranks. My dream was to open my own business one day and marry someone who could show me both love and respect. Because that was what was missing when I served the Miroh Coven. They might have insisted that they loved me, but they certainly held no respect for the woman they wanted to enslave, especially Jisung.

In fact, Han Jisung might have been the worst of the three brothers. You see, Chan’s claim as a leader only went as far as legalities required, having someone’s name down to attribute ownership. But Chan was just as much leader as Jisung and Changbin. The three brothers were thicker than thieves, having grown up together in a despicable orphanage when they were younger. They weren’t bound by blood, but by something much stronger. When they were turned by an older vampire who envisioned them as perfect little soldiers, they decided that they were owed something for all the years of torment they endured. They turned against their sire, freeing themselves from his control, before forming their own tight-knit clan to claim. Throughout the years, they lived in the Miroh Mansion while forming their very own elaborate enterprise and becoming very wealthy in the process. One of the very first things they did as CEOs was to tear down the orphanage they hated and replace it with one of their office buildings. Next, they tracked down everyone that had ever mistreated them, writing down the names in a disheveled notebook that I had discovered one night in Jisung’s nightstand. Some of the names had already been marked out, but there were still so many left, and I didn’t realize at the time what exactly I was holding in my hands until it was too late.

I shivered at the memory, trying to will it away, but it was already forcing itself to play out again in my mind with perfect clarity:

1 Year Ago

To save costs on ridiculous surcharges, and to make things easier for the coven, I had recently moved into the Miroh Mansion with my eight benefactors. They cleaned a room for me on the top floor where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung also lived in relative peace. The eight of them had been thrilled when I agreed to their proposal, talking nonstop about our new situation. Of course, I didn’t intend for it to hold any sort of permanence, but I didn’t dare speak out against Felix because the younger boy had a vicious temper and lashed out violently when things didn’t go his way.

Nevertheless, I quickly settled in with the others and their regular routine. I came to discover that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were often missing throughout the day, but I figured it had something to do with their business. As for the others, Hyunjin spent a lot of time in the attic where he had attempted to recreate a dance studio, often requesting that I sit and watch him as he moved to the gentle music playing from an older record player. Sometimes, Felix joined him too, but for the most part, Felix liked to play with the younger boys, Seungmin and Jeongin, in their rooms or in mine. They loved video games and I remember countless hours spent playing with the three of them as they giggled and laughed like the harmless school boys I once believed them to be. Occasionally, Minho liked to poke his head in when we were being too loud, scolding us because he was concentrating on his newest art project.

But the mood shifted considerably once Chan, Changbin, and Jisung came home. Immediately, the other vampires would rush downstairs to greet the brothers. It was the same occurrence every night and I was ignorant at first until I finally mustered the courage to ask Chan why they were so eager to see them. The older man had chuckled at me. “We’re their sires, Y/N. They experience a lot of discomfort without us around.”

“Sires?”

Chan explained the concept to me patiently. “Seungmin and Jeongin are sired to me and Hyunjin and Felix are sired to Changbin.”

“And Minho is sired to Jisung,” I said and Chan had smiled at me proudly like I had just discovered something profound.

“When we come home, it’s important that we reinforce our bond. Otherwise, some very bad things might happen.”

I had nodded like that made perfect sense to me. I was really tired and wanted to simply crawl into Chan’s arms and fall asleep. Chan had realized my intentions, holding me close while running his fingers through the messy strands of my air.

The next evening, Jisung summoned me into his bedroom. “I’m hungry, little one,” he said, drawing me onto the bed to slowly strip me out of my clothes. The very first-time Jisung had attempted to remove my shirt, I freaked out and demanded to know why it was necessary. Jisung had smiled, a cunning manipulative behavior that I hadn’t fully realized at the time. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

Of course, his intentions became evident as our sessions increased and I finally gave in and let Jisung fuck me because it did feel really good when he was inside while drawing far too much blood from my carotid artery. It became just another part of our routine, Jisung drawing me into his bed before sliding his cock inside before biting viciously on the side of my neck. I moaned from under him, focusing on the way his cock slid in and out as opposed to the dizziness I was experiencing from losing too much blood at once. Jisung only stopped when I orgasmed, tightening around his cock before he emptied himself between my legs, pressing sweet kisses to my chest before pulling his flaccid length out of my sensitive opening.

“Sleep,” he whispered close to my ear. I whined because I hated it when he left me alone after sex.

“Sungie,” I said, trying to get his attention. I was incredibly drowsy, fighting against every desire to close my eyes.

Jisung chuckled, entertaining my wandering hands. “I have business that requires my attention and you need to rest for me.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Jisung opened his nightstand, drawing out an unfamiliar notebook. He grabbed a loose pen from the organizer on his desk before scratching something out against the paper. Afterward, the notebook was returned to its previous location before Jisung was silently escaping the bedroom. I groaned loudly at the soreness in my neck, massaging the tender skin before allowing myself the sleep I deserved.

It felt like minutes before an unexpected scream pierced through the walls, startling me into consciousness. I jolted up in my bed, far too quickly for my poor body which was still recovering from Jisung’s feeding. I shook my head to clear the black spots, opening them again only for my eyes to latch onto Jisung’s nightstand. I swallowed hard, curiosity getting the better of me as I slowly pulled on the drawer’s handle.

The notebook wasn’t very large but I could tell it was old and well-used. I slowly opened the first page, frowning as I read the unfamiliar names listed in random order. A few of them had been carefully blacked out, indecipherable now that they had been clearly forgotten. I was growing distracted by the names, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle, when another noisy scream reminded me why I had been so suddenly disturbed. Carefully, I returned the notebook to its home, slipping on a pair of slippers before leaving Jisung’s bedroom.

The hallways were dark and empty with no other sounds alerting me to the unexpected scream that had previously penetrated my drowsiness. I started down the familiar purple carpets, holding tightly to the railing as I descended the grand staircase. It was then that I noticed light spilling from a crack in the door leading to the basement. I had never been down there before, warned explicitly by Chan to never enter that room. But his warning did nothing to assuage my curiosity, so I ignored the alarms going off in the back of my head before reaching out for the door.

There were several voices now, clearly audible, attempting to speak over one another. It sounded like an argument as I started down the stairs, frowning when I smelled something that reminded me distinctly of a sharp metallic odor. “It’s fine,” I heard Jisung’s voice growl and I paused in my steps, wondering if I would get in trouble for interrupting.

“So messy,” Chan spoke now, clearly irritated. “I thought you planned better than this.”

“I did,” Jisung said. “Consider the girl an added bonus.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking, continuing my trek into the basement until I could finally see the three brothers standing together. But I immediately regretted my decision, covering the scream threatening to rip itself free from my chest as I discovered the corpses hanging from the ceiling. It was a disgusting sight, limbs dismembered and lying out across the floor. There was blood everywhere, covering Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, thick and revolting in the way it stained the concrete floors. I instinctively took a step back, wincing when the stair creaked under my weight. Almost immediately, three pairs of eyes turned in my direction and I fell backward in my haste to retreat.

Chan was on me in an instant, cursing when his touch forced a loud scream to pierce the silence of the room. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my shoulders despite my thrashing. He forced me to meet his eyes and the influence of his power was enough to render me unconscious once again.

Present

“You look beautiful today, Y/N.”

I blushed, of course, from Mark’s tender compliment. “Thank you,” I managed sheepishly, watching as my boss offered me a cheeky smile before entering his office.

Ever since I left the Miroh Coven, I had been working a part-time position as the Secretary to a wealthy CEO. I didn’t mind my job, enjoying the menial tasks I was usually instructed to obey. It was quite mind-numbing, a worthy distraction when I first started working here hollowing the horrors I had endured from the Miroh Coven. The pay was excellent and I was able to help my roommate afford rent while reliably buying myself luxuries like a new mattress or a fresh wardrobe since my old clothes reminded me too much of the past.

The hours were also minimal, and I often found myself sitting down at my desk only to look up at the clock and realize my day had already concluded. Subsequently, I was able to leave the office on time every day to join the steady stream of afternoon traffic. Afterward, I might stop by a restaurant to pick up something for dinner, or occasionally drive through the downtown marketplace because I enjoyed shopping for fresh produce. It was all quite nice and I enjoyed settling into my new life with a deep sigh of relief.

It had almost been nine months since I last saw any of the boys and other than the unfortunate encounter with Chan’s necklace, I was sure that I would never have to experience anything so unattractive ever again. I was slowly regaining my confidence, joining my roommate several times when she wanted to see a movie or shop at one of the outdoor malls. Everything was starting to work out for me, which meant that I was also starting to comfortably take more risks.

“Please have fun tonight,” my roommate said, practically dragging me along with her as we entered one of her favorite clubs. After much convincing, I had finally given in and allowed my roommate to take me out late at night for drinks and dancing. “This is a nice place,” she said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I nodded my head, looking around the relaxed atmosphere. It was certainly a much tamer club than what I was used to visiting, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Of course, the influence of alcohol had a way of making a person far more willing to lower their defenses. “One glass,” I said, accepting the fruity beverage from the bartender before my roommate and I found a table near the edge of the dance-floor.

“So many handsome faces,” my roommate remarked. “Interested in anyone?”

I scoffed at her question because I seriously doubted that I would willingly jump into a new relationship anytime soon. “Really?”

“Just wondering,” my roommate shrugged, drinking down the remainder of her scotch. “Wanna dance?”

I waved her off, deciding that I was okay with enjoying my drink at our table. My roommate let out a giggle, locking eyes with a suave businessman who looked ready to devour her whole. “I’ll check on you soon,” she promised and I quickly lost her in the mass of bodies occupying the dance floor.

I rolled my eyes because I knew better than to expect my roommate’s return. Instead, I sipped at my drink while admiring the friendly atmosphere of the bar, neon colors dazzling in my peripheral vision. It reminded me of my younger college days when I was swept away by the illusion of freedom which independent adulthood offered, attending every frat party I could find.

I grinned at the memories, feeling way too old to try anything like that ever again. It was fun once, being so irresponsible, but now it was time to start paying bills and scratch my head when I attempted to do my taxes. Freedom was addicting, and I could see why so many younger people were enamored with the idea of moving away from home and conquering the world.

Wistfully, I must digress because I often lose myself in my thoughts, and I can’t afford a break in concentration. Instead, I sipped tentatively at my drink, watching the moving sea of bodies. I was entirely focused, which allowed me to raise my guard at the approach of an unfamiliar figure.

“Excuse me? Do you have the time?”

I shrugged loosely because it was an innocent request from someone who clearly wasn’t looking for anything ill-intended. On instinct, I reached into my bag to grab my phone. “It’s almost midnight,” I said, thinking that our interaction would be short-lived.

Instead, the man was insistent, a cold hand digging harshly against my shoulder. “Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to stay up so late, sweetheart?”

The accent had been disguised, but now I recognized it thick and heavy in my ear. I couldn’t even remember to scream before his hand was enclosed over my mouth, teeth nipping at my jaw. Another body slipped into my roommate’s chair, brows raised as he reached for her discarded glass. “Is there room for some company, Y/N?” Jisung asked, blonde hair hanging low in his eyes.

I shook my head desperately, fresh tears clouding my vision. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” Chan asked with a harsh tone and I was suddenly jerked to the side, a strong hand holding my chin into place.

“What a coincidence, Y/N,” Changbin growled. “We have unfinished business in this little town of yours.”

“You’re coming with us,” Chan said, ignoring the way I fought against him as he practically forced me out of my chair. “Look at me,” he snarled, eyes trained on mine as I started to drift out of consciousness.

I was slowly starting to realize that the implications of being a sire went far beyond just simply turning someone immortal. For example, I knew how cruel Changbin could be, turning violent on a whim, especially if you disobeyed him. He was the one who liked to punish me when he thought I was being bad, dragging out all sorts of special toys to use against my body. Paddles and lashes, whips and spikes, everything Changbin needed was lined perfectly along the walls of the special room he had decorated for himself whenever he wanted to play with someone. He was a sadist in every sense of the word, enjoying the sensation of watching someone suffer for his own pleasure. When he had first brought me into the room, I had immediately protested, close to tears when Changbin had cooed at me and insisted that I would never be forced to do anything outside of my comfort zone. He spoke with a wicked tongue, dark eyes revealing the truth if I had been so willing to look for it, but I eventually allowed him to have his way with me. Tears streaming freely down the side of my face while Changbin’s tongue traced the salty rivulets with a groan.

But Changbin wasn’t the only one with a fiery temper and desire for pain and suffering. His fledgling vampires, Felix and Hyunjin, had decisively taken on his more brutal aspects. Felix lost control whenever I said something to offend him, growling out insults while I tried to avoid his hands. Hyunjin had special permission to use Changbin’s secret room to explore his own masochism, and I had accidentally wandered into one of his sessions at the beginning of our arrangement before things had turned sexual between us. I remember the look of existential terror on the girl’s face that I had foolishly misplaced as pleasure, crying out not in ecstasy but in pain.

On the other hand, Jisung was the manipulative and cunning brother who thought out everything instead of living on a whim according to his pleasures. It was this same trait that I discovered in Minho who also shared Jisung’s tendency to plan out his movements. The only difference between them was that Minho was silent in his execution while Jisung was loud in letting everyone know that he had gotten his way.

Finally, there was Bang Chan, the legal leader of the Miroh Coven. Chan was the last of the brothers to attempt a siring bond because he had never found the right person. I would never know for sure why Seungmin and Jeongin were “the right people,” but Chan doted on them in every sense of the word. He treasured them like they were his possessions, buying them expensive clothes and allowing them leeway when their bloodlust tended to get the best of them. It was up to the sire to teach their fledglings how to properly drink blood from a source, but Chan had decided not to blink an eye when Seungmin or Jeongin accidentally took things a step too far.

Just like Chan, Seungmin and Jeongin were also extremely possessive, especially when they considered something to belong exclusively to them. I can only wish that I had noticed sooner, the way the three of them liked to leave their marks on me in various ways, whether it be through a harsh bite or buying me something nice and insisting that I wear it at all times. Seungmin and Jeongin were also dangerous because there had been times when I felt like I was on death’s door, feeling them drink my blood like they would never stop.

Sadly, I thought I had escaped all of that, so imagine the utter sense of dread crippling my entire body when I woke up to see Chan, Changbin, and Jisung standing over me as they watched me slowly awaken. Chan was the first to react, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he appraised me. “Sweetheart,” he said and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you know how worried we were when you ran away from us like that?”

My lower lip trembled and I bit down on it hard. “I couldn’t stay.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, looking every bit as patient as I remembered.

“You hurt people,” I whispered. “And you hurt me too.”

“Hurt you?” Chan huffed, a look of annoyance masking his features. “We protected you and cared for you, sweetheart.”

“You belong to us,” Jisung said, gaze cold as he watched me from afar.

I sniffled, slowly losing my last shred of pride as I tried not to cry in front of these horrible vampires. His words reminded me of the night I left, rushing out into the streets with blood covering my body. “I don’t have to work for you anymore,” I said.

Changbin growled. “The arrangement meant more than that, Y/N.”

“We love you,” Chan said, reaching for my hands and I didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

I was crying now, triggered by the all-too-familiar words spoken 9 months ago when I entered the Miroh Mansion for the final time.

Eight Months Ago

Jeongin was still young enough to celebrate his birthday, and the rest of the Clan had decided that nothing was too good for their precious youngest member. I remember going shopping with Chan, buying party decorations without any consideration for how much it would cost them. Earlier that week, Jisung and I had visited the bakery to order Jeongin a custom-made birthday cake, including a cheesy message at the bottom to commemorate the occasion. Everyone was in good spirits and I had finally stopped thinking about the bodies in their basement, believing Jisung when he told me that they had been donated to the Miroh Clan to use as a source of fresh blood. “It sometimes happens,” Jisung said. “Whenever there’s an accident and nobody claims the bodies, they send them here for us to use.”

It was an extremely unreasonable explanation but I refused to believe anything else in an attempt to protect myself from the truth. I was determined to move past it, forcing myself to smile at Jisung’s cheesy jokes or Chan’s attempts to make me laugh. I must have been a good actor because they stopped hovering around me at every possible opportunity, watching me like they were waiting for me to bolt out the door and never return.

“Y/N!” Jeongin had said, jumping into my bed to wake me up that morning. “Guess what?” he giggled, adorable face mere inches from my own.

“Hmmm?” I wondered, smirking as he practically beamed with excitement.

“It’s my birthday,” Jeongin said. “I’m supposed to be 40-years-old today!”

“Congratulations,” I snickered, deciding that it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“Will you come play with me and Felix?” Jeongin asked. “We can do whatever we want until Chan gets home.”

That’s another thing I had noticed about the fledglings. They never really liked to talk about anyone except for their sired master. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that Jeongin had no idea that Jisung and Changbin even existed. “Okay,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”

Jeongin allowed me to get ready in peace and quiet, and I enjoyed the feeling of the water scalding my skin as I stood under the faucet for far longer than normal. Afterward, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, finding Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin in Minho’s room, arguing over who would join teams. I yawned when I entered, wary of the way Minho was watching me from his bed, legs stretched out in front of him as his eyes followed me all the way to where Felix was holding out my controller.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with the younger boys, ignoring Minho completely as I let Jeongin win several times even though I was much better at Street Fighter. “Finally,” Jeongin exclaimed, racing for the door before I could question him.

“Chan’s home,” Minho informed me, holding out a hand which I reluctantly accepted, trying not to react when Minho leaned in to press his lips against my delicate pulse point.

Downstairs, all of the vampires were busy setting up Jeongin’s party. Streamers hung from the overhead banisters and balloons floated mindlessly through the room as Chan hugged Jeongin tightly against his chest. “Were you a good boy today?” he asked the youngest who nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Y/N,” Jisung called my name. “Help me in the kitchen.”

I obeyed immediately, finding Jisung situating candles on top of the cake we had purchased earlier that week. I was struck by the normalcy of the situation, standing next to Jisung as he instructed me to start boiling a pot of water. Apparently, despite their delicate diets, on special occasions, the Vampires could enjoy human food and Jeongin’s favorite was being prepared for him.

It was chaotic in the Mansion as everyone attended to their various responsibilities, amusing little Jeongin who flitted from person to person. Although, more often than not, Jeongin stuck close to Chan’s side, talking to his sire about all the nuances of his day. Chan listened patiently, nodding along as he finished the elaborate ribbon around one of Jeongin’s birthday presents. “Is everyone ready?”

We all stood together in the kitchen, singing for Jeongin who was vibrating from head to toe. He blew out the candles and beamed at the accompanying applause. “Happy birthday, Jeongin,” I said, allowing him to pull me into an impossibly strong grip.

Meanwhile, the other vampires slowly congregated into the living room where Jeongin’s presents were waiting for him. “Y/N,” Chan said, holding me back as Jeongin raced out of the kitchen. “Help me carry these drinks.”

I wrinkled my nose because they were obviously filled with blood. Nonetheless, I obeyed diligently, accepting one of the trays before following Chan into the crowded foyer. “Channie!” Jeongin said, holding up a delicate pocket watch. “It’s so nice!”

Chan smiled warmly at Jeongin, ruffling his hair playfully as he started handing out the glasses. Changbin grabbed me by the hips as I passed in front of him, pulling me into his lap as he took a sip from his glass. “It’s not as good as yours,” he teased, lips scarlet from the liquid.

I chose not to respond to his comment, trying to relax against his body. “Y/N,” Chan said before handing me a glass. I studied it cautiously while I gingerly took the glass from him.

“What is it?”

“Just some wine,” Chan shrugged indifferently and I nodded before trying a sip of the beverage. Almost immediately, I winced at the taste and Changbin chuckled at my obvious aversion.

“It was very expensive,” he lightly chastised me and I tried not to notice the smell as I forced more of the wine down my throat.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to open more of his gifts, expressing his gratitude towards each of his older members as he tried on various pieces of clothing and jewelry. When he finally got to my present, he shot me a mischievous smirk. “Y/N…”

“Open it,” I encouraged him.

Jeongin needed no further encouragement, ripping through the wrapping paper before discovering the portable gaming system tucked neatly in the box it once came in. “For you to practice,” I said, pleased at his grateful expression. It was an older system that once belonged to my brother, but I didn’t have a need for it, and Jeongin talked relentlessly about how cool it would be to play the older versions of the games he loved.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

I was warmed by his genuine reaction, feeling nothing but affection for the boy. “You’re welcome.”

“What a good girl,” Changbin said, tipping my glass back against my lips. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he really cared about how expensive the wine cost. After all, these were the same men who brought new things into the house every day after flashing their shiny credit cards at whichever cashier had the privilege of accommodating their requests. Still, I knew better than to upset Changbin, especially on poor Jeongin’s birthday, so I downed the rest of the nasty drink before placing the glass down on the side table. “Shall we watch a movie?” Jisung asked, eyes glinting rather maniacally as he studied my discarded drink.

“Please!” Jeongin chirped. “Something scary.”

I hated the idea of watching a horror movie, but I couldn’t protest when everyone else was in total agreement for once. Instead, I followed the rest of the boys into the main living room, resisting a sigh when Chan drug me down next to him on the sectional. “Whatever you want, Jeongin,” Jisung said, tossing the younger the remote control.

“Dracula!” Jeongin declared, an amusing pick perhaps if these Vampires were less violent.

But my opinion held no weight and the film began while Felix turned off the lights. Bathed in darkness, I resisted the urge to curl in tighter against Chan as I tried not to think about the film playing on-screen. Everyone else was comfortable, settled in their usual pairs which meant Minho was sitting between Jisung’s legs while Felix and Hyunjin flanked Changbin on either side. Seungmin and Jeongin sat close to me and Chan as they watched the television with wide, eager eyes.

I tried to turn off my mind, focusing on a distant spot beyond the edge of the screen. It worked for a while, keeping my mind occupied away from the movie playing in the background. In fact, I might have managed to survive the rest of the evening had it not been for Chan whose lips were suddenly brushing along the length of my neck.

I immediately flinched away. “What are you doing?” I whispered, unrelenting when his hand wrapped around the back of my head to force me into place.

“I’m hungry,” he smirked against my exposed skin, teeth sharp against my delicate flesh.

“Why now?” I said, looking over at the others because there was no way they couldn’t hear the two of us.

“Just one bite,” Chan said and I rolled my eyes but bared my neck for him, hoping he would be fast about the unexpected ordeal. He was quick to adjust me on his lap, fixing our positions to his liking. Chan’s teeth penetrated my skin gently and I could feel his mouth latch on tightly as he started to drink from me. I tried not to react, glancing away at the other members who were still watching the movie. With the exception of Changbin, who was looking at me with a dangerous smirk that immediately alerted me to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

As the seconds ticked away, I realized that Chan had no intention of stopping and my instincts kicked in as the storm of anxiety registered throughout my slowly weakening body. I jerked away from Chan who must have been caught off-guard, blood spraying into the air around us as the wound had not been properly closed. But my decision proved to be a necessary distraction because Jeongin and Seungmin both immediately reacted to the intense smell, teeth bared as they sought the source of the blood coating the furniture and my clothes. I managed to dodge Jeongin as he jumped at me first, colliding into Chan to send them both falling back into the floor.

With my hand pressed against my neck, I started for the front door, aware of Changbin closing in behind me. But the older boy was unprepared for Seungmin’s attack whose instincts probably insisted that someone was trying to steal his fresh supply of blood. Changbin let out a grunt as he wrestled with a feral Seungmin, receiving help from Felix and Hyunjin who were trying to protect their sire. Through the haze clouding my eyes, I could see Jisung holding back Minho whose sharpened incisors were cutting deeply into the thin skin of his lips. “You belong to us!” Jisung snarled.

“We can be together forever,” Chan said, still distracted by a wild Jeongin whose dark eyes were starting to look very unfamiliar. It was only then that I realized I had been tricked. They had been trying to turn me without my permission. The expensive wine Changbin insisted I drink must have been someone’s blood because when a human died with vampire blood in their system…

I forced those thoughts away, deciding it was far more important to focus on escaping, and the feral vampires provided the perfect distraction. I managed to make it out onto the street, finding my car parked at the sidewalk. I started the ignition, blasting cold air through the vents to keep me conscious as I pulled out onto the main road. Blood was still pouring steadily from my wound when I stopped next to the Emergency room entrance, ignoring a nearby policeman who was clearly displeased that I was blocking the road before I finally succumbed to the darkness with a grateful sigh.

Present

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me?

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside.

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.”

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures.

Dozens of them.

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head.

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs.

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor.

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung.

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant.

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids yandere #skz yandere #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz minho fanfic #skz chan fanfic #skz changbin fanfic #skz hyunjin #skz jisung fanfic #skz han fanfic #skz felix fanfic #skz seungmin fanfic #Skz jeongin fanfic

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sirowsky · 4 years ago

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Another day of side-effects where my head really hasn’t been in the game. But a little fun stuff to pass the time has managed to crop up.

So sorry for the tease ending... I blame the headaches.

Chapter 27

The Chef, Greg, had personally brought you extra leftovers during the five weeks you were living in the cell, training and learning about your abilities. He knew about your abnormal energy-consumption, and had become concerned when you never ordered more than a double portion of food, no matter how exhausted you were. So, he’d come to give you the leftovers one evening, and you’d explained that it felt like you’d be stealing from others that might need it, if you ordered six or even eight portions. After that, he’d begun saving all the leftovers every day, and bringing you that for the extra portions you otherwise wouldn’t have ordered.

“I may have to make Greg my Best Man.”

“He’d probably decline. He’s nice, but he does have standards.”

“Ouch…”

“He doesn’t know you, Cujo.”

“Okay, seriously, what is up with that?”

“It’s just an accurate description.”

“I am not a fucking dog.”

“Yes, you are. It’s just that, ordinarily, you’re a puppy. You just have that lovable puppy-face, with the eyes and the grin that can melt the coldest of hearts. And then, you bare your teeth and growl, and you look fucking terrifying.”

“I do?”

“Um – yes. Unequivocally – yes. It’s amazing.”

“Wait… you like my Cujo-quality?”

“I like that you have that side, when you need it. I like that it comes out almost exclusively to protect the things you love. And I have to admit that I like the fact that even the remotest possibility that William actually had tried something, elicited that kind of a response from you.”

“I was a little shocked at how strongly I reacted to that. Just the thought… I would’ve killed him, if he had. Not because you… belong to me. But because you were weak and unable to stop anyone that might have tried. Thank god William’s even more of a puppy than I am.”

“Will is more of a Greyhound.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know – sleek, effective, streamlined.”

“Okay, let’s just drop the whole dog-topic already.”

“And, just for the record – of course I belong to you. Ass-hat.”

He practically beamed at you.

“Ditto. Mama bear.”

You’d been talking while walking back from lunch, and when you got back to your office, Anita was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, with her signature scowl in full effect.

“Hi, mom. Wow, you’re actually in the office, it must be serious.”

“Fifty noise-complaints in the last hour – is serious.”

You both stopped smiling, and threw a nervous glance at one another, but she just huffed and turned to you.

“Have you had yourself checked out by medical, yet?”

“No… why would I…?”

“Because human beings don’t possess the biological imperative to breed, to the point where their libidos take control of their bodies.”

You had actually checked both your offices for cameras and microphones a good while back, and found nothing. And there weren’t any fucking flowers in your office!

“How the hell do you know that? Seriously… How?”

She just rolled her eyes.

“Get your ass down to medical. Now.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever it is, I feel fine now, which means they probably wouldn’t be able to detect anything abnormal, so I’m gonna finish my work for the day, and then I’ll go to medical.”

You walked over to your desk as you spoke, and as you sat down, you remembered something.

“And by the way, where you in charge of selecting my substitute while I was gone?”

“Yes. Petra wasn’t ideal.”

“You don’t say. If I’m ever gone for an extended period of time again, no one sets foot in my fucking office. Got it?”

“Did you just try and give me an order, loco?”

“I’m not trying anything. I’m telling you. No one.”

She threw you a kinda skewed smile and then turned around to leave. But as she crossed the threshold she stopped and looked back at you with pure steel in her eyes.

“4pm. If you’re not at medical by then, I’ll drag you there by your ear.”

“Try it. Please.”

She left and you sighed and looked at Marcus, who had sat down on the couch again, one arm draped over the backrest while he’d watched you take on Máma.

“Are you absolutely sure you feel fine? Because I’m all kinds of hot and bothered right now.”

“50 noise-complaints, Marcus. That’s half the damned building.”

“And like I said: fuck ‘em.”

“Please go away so I can think.”

“Only if you promise to call me the moment you feel any amount of craving. I’m serious.”

“You think I want to feel like that again? Of course I’ll call, and you’d better pick up. I don’t care if HQ’s on fire.”

“You have my word, famb.”

“You know, your list of nicknames is getting a bit ridiculously long.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started on the real one’s yet.”

“Real ones?”

“Prometida, esposa, amada, mi corazón…”

“Okay, okay, have as many as you like, jeez.”

“Which one’s your favourite?”

“You already know.”

He got up from the sofa and came over to kiss you before he left. His lips lingered long after the kiss ended.

“Hermosa…”

He was intoxicating. You put a hand up on his chest and pushed him away gently.

“Get out of here, gorgeous. Mama’s got work to do.”

“Oh, that’s mean. You know how I love it when you talk all husky like that.”

“I’ll call you if I need you.”

He walked away looking disappointed, but also kind of expectant, like he was looking forward to getting you back later. You smiled and shook your head after the door closed behind him.

You did get a lot of work done after that, and even if you were still miles behind from catching up to where you’d been 7 weeks ago, it still felt good to have gotten back on track. Especially on what had been possibly the weirdest day of your life. Which was saying something. Your libido stayed calm and behaved for the rest of the workday, but you did see Anita’s point in getting yourself checked over, and so you were planning on going to the med-bay. But at 3:30 you were working on your computer, looking up rare metals for an upcoming build, and you sort of stumbled over a site for wedding-rings. You were just gonna take a quick peak, scrolling through the various options, and getting progressively more worked up as you saw the price-tags. You were just about to leave the page and go back to work, when an ad in the corner popped up.

Wedding-dresses.

Fuck.

You clicked.

“If you thought I was kidding about the ear, you were sorely mistaken.”

You startled at the sound of her voice, and a puff of energy escaped you, sending papers flying everywhere.

“Thanks a lot, Anita. Why don’t you give me a heart-attack while you’re at it?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not my fault you were so engrossed in that screen you didn’t notice me. What were you looking at, anyway?”

Had half an hour already passed? You just clicked on that ad a second ago… And why was she looking at you like that?

“Just research.”

“Mhm. Let’s go.”

“Alright, just let me get these papers off the floor.”

As expected, since the event seemed to have passed, the medical exam didn’t reveal anything, and Anita seemed unnecessarily peeved about that.

“What are you so upset about? What exactly did you think they’d find?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“Never mind, my ass. You all but dragged me to this exam, and now you’re disappointed. So, spill. What’s the deal?”

“I just hoped that maybe… you increased enthusiasm was…”

“Was…?”

“Alright, most women experience increased sensitivity when they’re pregnant. I just wanted to be sure.”

You sort of half froze midway through pulling your pants back on, and your hands involuntarily went to your abdomen.

“Oh… I never even considered…”

“I’m sorry, niña. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I’m not upset. God, I don’t even know what I am.”

You finished dressing and sat down on a chair, letting your head fall into your hands.

“Eight months ago, I was just a designer, going on a fucking vacation. Now, I don’t even know what the hell I am anymore, much less what to do. Every time I think I’m starting to get a handle on things, something else happens and I’m lost again.”

She tapped your leg with her cane, ushering you to look at her.

“What you are, is my son’s fiancé. My granddaughter’s adoptive mother. You’re smart, highly capable and stubborn, kind and caring, but abrasive when the situation requires it. You’re everything you need to be. And that’s all you ever really need to know about yourself.”

You drew a deep breath.

“Do you think he made the right choice? With me?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Thank you.”

You called Marcus to let him know how the exam had gone, and he was just about to pick up Missy, so since you had your own car you told him you’d race him home. But you decided to stop by Amanda’s house on the way. You wanted to talk to both of them, but her place was closer.

When you walked in at home, Missy was in the living room playing a video-game with Noodles, A Capella and Wild Card. It had been a while since she’d had any friends over, and you smiled when you saw how much fun she was having.

“Hey, Alma! Wanna see me crush these guys for the second time?”

“Any day of the week, angel, but I gotta talk to your dad right now.”

“Okay, suit yourself!”

You laughed and walked into the kitchen to find him opening pizza-boxes and distributing slices onto plates.

“Hey, sweetheart, sorry, this wasn’t planned, they just spontaneously asked if they could come over as I was picking her up.”

“Honey, why are you explaining yourself?”

“I don’t know… it’s just, with the weird day you’ve had and how you seemed a little down after the exam, I thought that maybe you weren’t quite in the mood for a house full of teenagers.”

“No matter how I feel, Missy’s entitled to enjoy herself with her friends. I would never wanna deprive her of that.”

“No, I know. I just worry about you.”

“Yeah, I do too, sometimes. But that’s usually when I remember I have you, and it all feels better.”

He smiled and asked you to help him carry out the food to the living room, and once you’d done that, you sat down at the dinner table to eat yourselves.

“So… I may have googled wedding-dresses today.”

He beamed.

“Really? Did you manage to narrow down any preferences? Don’t give me any specifics, by the way.”

“I did, I think. Or, at least, I found a lot of stuff I didn’t like, so I guess that helps. I don’t know, I feel like I need to see them, touch them, to actually get a sense of what I like.”

He beamed even more.

“I really like the sound of this. I’m sure Amaire would come with you if you asked.”

“Yeah, I kind of already asked them to, this weekend.”

He was fucking radiating joy at that point. He got up and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom and closing the door behind you. Then he reached into his pocket and fished something out. His smile turned just a hint of insecure, as he held up the ring he’d chosen for you. It was gold-plated steel, with a single row of small diamonds sunk into the centre of the band all the way around. A sturdy and solid piece that wouldn’t break or lose its shape. While you admired it, he started trying to explain his choice.

“I know you’re not much of a jewellery-girl, so I figured we’d skip the whole engagement ring plus wedding-band. You can wear it right away if you want and then just take it off before the ceremony, or you can wait and put it on then, either way is fine with me. That is, if you like it? If you don’t, we’ll take it back and you can pick something else. It just felt right as soon as I saw it. You’re not the frail silver band type of person, and I know you’d only get annoyed with a big rock getting in the way and getting caught in stuff. You work with your hands and so I figured something sturdy but elegant. I have a matching one just without the diamonds. Please say something before I pass out from oxygen-depravation…”

“I love it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

You both beamed.

“Can I put it on you?”

“You better.”

He slipped it on your finger and it fit perfectly. And for the first time it really sunk in that you were gonna marry this man. The love of your life. It felt like a really long time until the kids went home and Missy went to bed, with her headphones on.

“I totally forgot, we need to go bed-shopping, honey.”

“I don’t know, a mattress on the floor might be preferable until we know the extent of your ‘heat-situation’.”

“Mm. Good point. Although, breaking in a new bed is always fun.”

“Hermosa.”

“What?”

“Stop talking and get undressed. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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yoondoze · 4 years ago

Text

make a wish | jjk - 2

jeongguk didn’t know it, but his wish came true. as the best things in life do, it comes back around.

alternatively: a compilation of scenes in the after of “make a wish” and how they pile up and weigh you down until it’s too much to handle.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: angst, fluff, romance, best friend!au, mutual pining... shh

warnings: language. besides that, this is pretty tame! only slightly edited bc its 2 in the morning and i just want to get this up lol

a/n: didn’t mean for this to be so long but i got a little carried away. this wraps up make a wish, so i hope you guys like it! also, feedback is always appreciated in any way shape or form <3 muah!

It’s just as you’re leaving when Jeongguk’s phone rings. His eyes widen in disquiet as he stares at the number displayed at the top of his phone. In preparation, he shakes out his limbs dramatically and takes a deep, exaggerated breath. Considering it’s for your entertainment, you roll your eyes and wave him on.

He picks up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is muffled as you try your best to listen in. Your heart pounds in anticipation, gripping onto the straps of your purse with white knuckles.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay, great.”

He paces around the room aimlessly. His fingers fiddle with a loose thread on his sweatpants as he listens closely. You’re sure he’s already sweating, more nervous than you could imagine despite the playful act he put on before answering.

“Yeah. That’s fine! Okay, thank you so much. Alright, bye.”

He’s facing away from you as he clicks the end call button. Just as you’re about to ask, he spins on his heel, lips pursed as he holds back a grin.

“Guess who got the job?”

A toothy grin spreads across his face as he singsongs. Jeongguk’s expression of pure excitement is a privilege to see. It’s impossible to deny how it lights up your own.

“Oh my god, you got the job?”

“I got the job!”

His bangs bounce as he jumps with both fists raised in glory. You squeal, going in for a tight hug and swaying back and forth as you congratulate him.

“I’m proud of you, Gguk,” you say into his shoulder. “Really, I am.”

And when you say it, you mean it. After so many months of struggling at his old company, he took the leap and applied for a position at a more well-known film studio. The late night introduction practices with you, which included him reciting prepared resume-esque lines and weeks of tiring interviews had paid off like you knew he deserved it to.

“Okay. I should get home,” you try, voice strained as his arms crush your diaphragm like walls in a deadly escape room. Upon hearing your winded sentence, he loosens his grip.

You don’t even think about what it might mean before you place a departing kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, fueled by the elation running through you at the upward turn of events. It’s an accident, it just happens naturally as if it was something you’ve done a thousand times. It only hits you that you shouldn’t have after it’s already done.

Sure, you make out and kiss all the time, but the difference is that’s only when you’re taking advantage of the benefits you worked out. That kissing is all attraction, nothing chaste or romantic like this. So when you pull away from the hug, you expect to see his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and giving you a look of disgust.

“Uh-” you sputter, ever a wordsmith, trying to think of some rational explanation to excuse why you might have kissed him like that. The previous bouts of joy sparking in your heart fly out the window.

However, his eyes only show a mild, innocent surprise. At his silence, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to address it, and you assume he’ll assume it was just congratulatory. You can work with that.

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home,” you blurt as untroubled as it can come, spinning on your heel and hurrying out the door. After closing it behind you, you slump back against it for a breath.

God, what were you thinking? Were you fucking stupid? Your fingers find your forehead finds as you try to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. You’re prone to over analyzing, anyway. Jeongguk’s too occupied to think about it like that. He just got his new job, he has a thousand new things to worry about. He won’t read into it. If he does, he’ll think of it as a heat of the moment sort of thing.

Right?

Inside, Jeongguk pauses, staring at where you were standing just a second ago and scratches the back of his neck. The corners of his mouth turn up slowly.

He finds himself checking his phone every five minutes for a text from you, which never comes.

☆☆☆

At the end of the day, it was your fault.

It was your thoughtless action that made Jeongguk think that incorporating romantic gestures like that into your relationship could still be platonic. You rocked the boat with that one, but it wasn’t enough to completely capsize your vessel, and for that you were grateful.

Still, your heart now tore itself into smaller and smaller pieces every time he kissed you goodbye or grabbed your hand to swing it back and forth or wrapped his arm around you after cleaning up.

“By the way,” he says, tossing you one of his shirts from his place in front of his dresser. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers as you cover up. “There’s this work dinner I have to go to next week for networking and stuff, and it’s a buffet-type thing so they charge you for a spot. But, I found out that there is a couple’s discount and was wondering if maybe… you’d want to come with me?”

The hopeful sparkle in his eyes is one you just can’t ignore. Doing so would feel like a one-way ticket to hell, the only valid consequence for such a rotten crime.

“Yeah, sure.”

His smile at your compliance takes away all the apprehension you might have had, at least for a second. He wears it like a medal.

“Okay, good. I have to talk to a lot of people so I’d just feel better if you were there.”

Your brows draw together as you watch him get dressed. “But Gguk, you’re good at talking to people,” you say, going as far as to admit teasingly, “You’re fairly charming.”

He laughs, hopping into his slacks. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freak out inside. It’s scary!” The dark brown mop of hair atop his head jostles into his eyes as he adds, “There’s gonna be a lot of well-known people there so it’s my chance to make some connections.”

Despite that, you’re sure he’ll be just fine. By nature, Jeongguk is inviting and easy to talk to. That is one of the reasons why you became such fast friends, and probably why you lasted so long. Along with his agreeable presence, his captivating looks probably wouldn’t hurt in striking up a deal either, though you’d never say that to his face.

“What’s the dress code?”

“Semi-formal I think?” He says, looking out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what that constitutes in terms of dresses but…”

A certain memory tugs at the back of his head. He considers just leaving it there, maybe slightly sentimental for his usual image, but what’s the harm in bringing it up?

“Do you remember the dress you wore for my brother’s graduation dinner? The blue one?”

You, on the other hand, are just surprised he remembers something like that. It must have been years ago by now. Still, it’s a good memory. It was a breezy evening by the shore to celebrate his brother’s graduation from college. The dinner was nice, but the best part was when you and Jeongguk ended up sneaking off to go sit on the beach later on in the night.

Jeongguk is intertwined into nearly every lasting memory you make. It’s hard to imagine a world where he isn’t a part of each story you retell or each thought that crosses your mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s probably buried in my closet somewhere.”

He’s relieved you don’t question him.

You might have to do some digging when you get home to find it, but you definitely still have it. It’s not like you have the money to be purchasing new semi-formal dresses for every occasion.

“That would be good. Or something like it, I don’t know.” He finishes buttoning up his shirt and tugs on the cuffs to straighten them out. His reflection in the mirror sends you a beaming smile, at this point accepting how his heart rate seems to spike every time he sees you in one of his shirts nowadays. He’s gotten very good at lending them to you casually.

He continues after a glance at the clock tells him he’s been letting his time with you slip on for more time than he can afford even though he wishes he could stay. “Anyway, I have to get going so make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave.” And then he’s padding out the door, car keys jingling in his hand as he picks them up from the dish on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He pokes his head around the hallway entrance to see you. “There’s coffee out here for you when you want it.”

He dashes off before you have the chance to react or even say thank you, a sheepish grin tugging at his features as he walks to his car. When you go out to see, it’s already made with cream and sugar, just the way you like.

☆☆☆

“You look really pretty tonight, Y/N,” Jeongguk says, voice soft as ever, eyeing your dress as you step out of the car. “Seriously, I mean it.” The heels you wear click evenly like a metronome’s beat on the pavement as you walk around to join him at his side.

You ignore the heat in your cheeks, rather offering an endearing grin as you grip the clutch in your hand. “You too, Gguk. You’ll do great tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made everyone here fall for you while you’re at it.”

His initial thought is to ask if that includes you, but his better judgment tells him it’s too bold. Instead, he just laughs and hands his car keys to the valet.

The dinner is a week later at a stunning three-floor, dimly lit fine dining restaurant decorated with dark hardwood and intricate chandeliers that make the soreness in your neck seem worth it while observing them.

Jeongguk cleans up nice, and even though you’ve already known this for a long time, you consider it a treat since this attire rarely, if ever, sees the light of day.

He props out his elbow and nudges for you to take it, which you so graciously do. Together you walk to the glass doors, through which you can see the party has just started. You can already hear the muffled music and chatter in the background.

“By the way,” he says, leaning down to your ear, like what he’s about to tell you is no big deal. “I… might have told my coworkers that we’re engaged-”

“Engaged!?” you whisper, eyes wide and staring at him incredulously.

So maybe he should have told you earlier. In his defense, he needed the extra time to produce an irrefutable excuse. In the end, it was only sort of reasonable, but he was hoping you would just roll with it. Isn’t that what the two of you always did?

“I know, I know! But listen. It just makes more sense in terms of you being my plus one and it also makes me seem like I have my shit together. And it’s always good for me to seem like I have my shit together, right?”

You sigh, narrowing your line of sight at him. “Okay. What do I do if someone asks why I’m not wearing my ring then?”

He mutters, “Oh, yeah.” Then he’s fishing through his side pocket and out comes a shiny silver ring with a small diamond placed into the center, held so flippant between his fingertips. “It’s my grandma’s. Borrowed it from home for this weekend.”

His heart pounds. Was that smooth enough? He has a lot of talents, but he isn’t sure if this was one of them just yet. Jeongguk tenses as he waits for your reaction. Best case scenario, his carefree attitude about it will rub off onto you.

“I figured it’d fit you,” he adds.

When it slides on perfectly, you know there’s no going back. Yet somehow, it is completely in character of him. You should have expected something like this because Jeongguk always has and always will be a man of spontaneity.

You’ll have to ask him how he knows your ring size sometime.

Inside, he introduces you to his coworkers. There are too many to remember but you catch a few here and there that you recall him talking about before, like Namjoon, the diligent Production Assistant and Taehyung, another member of the crew who he often eats lunch with. It’s an initial blur of faces and few-worded exchanges before you can take a breather off to the side.

“Not bad?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckles. The way it makes your heart flutter is addictive. He has you in his palm and he doesn’t even know it. Unfortunately, you don’t know if it’s something you can give up yet, not without it being messy.

There’s a short line behind a board that displays the seating arrangement, and though it’s moving quickly, it allows you a moment of space from the other guests.

A tired smile pulls at your lips. “Not bad.” You squeeze his hand in yours.

The people in front of you move from the board into the dining hall so both of you can inch up. Jeongguk’s eyes trace the small handwriting, eventually spotting the two of you in the far corner of the room.

Dinner goes well, and Jeongguk does the most of the talking. It’s nice to see him so bright as he laughs with his coworkers. It’s that part of him that he’s had since he was a kid, the part that made him fit in so naturally and charm every person around him. Seeing it out in the open and no longer repressed from emotional baggage is heartwarming. Compared to a few months ago, you might not recognize him at all.

After a while, Jeongguk wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his chair out from the table. “Alright, I’m gonna head to the bar lounge for a little while and see who I can talk to. Are you gonna be fine on your own?”

He’s nervous, you can tell. By the way his eyes dart around the room, the way he’s biting the inside of his bottom lip.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nod, taking a sip of water. “I’ll just stick around here.”

He gives himself a once over and wipes his palms on his slacks.

You tap his shoulder, bringing him down so you can whisper to him a small, “You’ll do great.”

He pulls back with a shy, one-sided smile. “Thank you. I hope so. Text me if you need anything.” Effortlessly, he plants a chaste kiss to your cheekbone that has your face ablaze and excuses himself from the table. The feeling of his lips on your skin sticks well after he’s gone.

Ryujin, the script supervisor, puts down her drink with a roll of her eyes. “Finally, all the boys are gone. I’ve been trying to talk to you the entire time but he’s always butting in!”

It pulls a laugh from you. “No, no, he’s just trying to help,” you explain, “I’m new to everyone here so he just doesn’t want me to feel awkward.”

“Yada yada,” says a bubbly Chaeryoung, a PA, waving it off with her hand. “I expected him to be protective with how much he talks about you, but wow. It’s cute though. Sometimes I wish I had someone like that.”

“Yeah, I’m really lucky,” you nod, reminded that you’re just pretending. You’re lucky, but not that lucky. “But… wait, what kind of stuff does he say about me?”

Ryujin chortles at your worry. “Oh, only good things. Just stuff you do together, jokes, those kinds of things. You’re involved in a lot of stories in some way or another.”

“Like, “This one time in high school, Y/N and I got in a fight...” or “Last week, we went to this new brunch spot and Y/N got this sandwich…’” Chaeryoung clarifies, but it only makes you want to pry further.

As she says it, both of the memories come floating back clear as day. You can’t remember what exactly you argued over, but it had been when you were paired as partners in a history class. The sandwich, you recall, was heaven on earth. The images are picture-perfect despite how they’d been buried.

The fact that Chaeryoung remembered things you didn’t is mildly startling, but you’re more surprised that Jeongguk shared so much. Not that it’s an issue, you just didn’t think you’d find yourself being perceived by so many people you had no prior knowledge of. The idea of him spilling your high school gossip fits like a puzzle to his persona, but the thought never occurred to you that he might think about you when you’re not there.

But you won’t let yourself become too optimistic.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think it’s different since we grew up together as family friends. He’s in a lot of my stories, too.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” Ryujin sighs. If only. “So when did you start liking each other? Or start dating?”

You take a deep breath as if you’re looking back on the day when in reality you’re just trying to come up with the most believable love story you can manage. It’s also your most ideal. Maybe if your current situation went the way you wanted.

“I think we liked each other at different times over the years. Y’know, I liked him when we were kids, he liked me when we were teenagers, kind of on and off like that. But sometime after college, I think the cycle lined up once and for all and…“

Do you think you could manifest it by speaking it into existence?

“...here we are.”

That thought was stupid. You make yourself forget about it. Stop with the hope, remember?

When you finish your spiel, you think you’ve finally made it in the clear. Until another question comes.

“So what was your first date like? Was it weird?”

You know they’re just trying to make conversation, but god, you’re not ready for this. You’re preoccupied with other problems. If only they knew how your brain was short-circuiting in an effort to think up an explanation that will make you sound versed and most importantly, convincing. You go with what you wish had happened.

“Um, a little bit, but since we had been close friends for such a long time, I think we had that mutual understanding of how things were so we could laugh about it. We just…” you say, shaking your head along, lips pursing as your train of thought rolls through the detailed daydream you know so well. “...went out to dinner one night... and it was sort of a process to transition to something more romantic, I guess, but it just kind of happened.”

But it feels nice to be Jeongguk’s girl. Even if you’re just playing a part. If you sink yourself into the atmosphere, tune into the clinking of the glasses, and the relaxing jazz in the background, you can pretend you’re really engaged and sharing your love story to whoever will listen.

Would it hurt too much to hold out on it one day become reality?

“I’m always so happy when the company hosts these events,” Chaeryoung comments, leaning back in her chair to take in the room. “It’s the only time I can come to a place like this since you know I can’t afford it with my own money.” A small talk sort of laugh bubbles up from her as she says it. There is an inkling of confusion that strikes you at her words, but you think you’ll just brush it off for the sake of being casual.

Ryujin looks to you as she adds, “And they even let you bring a plus one for free! You know, I was thinking of bringing my boyfriend, but I just felt like it might have been too soon…”

Your brows furrow as you recall the conversation with Jeongguk. Didn’t he say that it was a pay per guest scenario?

“So the company pays for these dinners?” you ask out of pure curiosity and with no hint of suspicion weaved in your tone.

“Yeah!” says Chaeryoung. “It’s all from the company’s budget since this is technically a networking event. Usually, people swap ideas or come up with deals that turn into projects a couple of weeks down the line.”

You nod along as she explains eagerly, but all you can hear is that there never was a price to pay to begin with, and more importantly meaning that there never was a discount. Not one that Jeongguk needed you around for.

But why would he lie?

Maybe Jeongguk was embarrassed asking for your company or didn’t want his ego bruised by telling you it was free and he wouldn’t have to pay for you. It’s the benefit of the doubt for your best friend (and love of your life, but that’s a separate issue) that makes it your first thought. In reality, thinking about the boy you know, it doesn’t make sense. At this point, he shouldn’t have to feel like that when it comes to you.

Whatever the case may be, you hope that he knows he’d never need an excuse to invite you somewhere. It’s not like you’d ever refuse. You’d never refuse him, not in any life.

☆☆☆

It’s the middle of the night when another bad dream jolts you awake with a pounding heartbeat. Your eyes flutter open, brimmed with tears, to reveal that the moon is still high in the sky above the towering buildings, and a shift to the side facing the nightstand lets you know you have another three hours before you have to start your day and leave Jeongguk’s apartment.

The last few weeks, the dreams have been growing more and more common. Not enough for you to dread going to sleep just yet, but definitely something you’re quickly getting sick of. At this point, you’re tired of going to sleep just to wake up freaked out in a cold sweat. You chalk it up to the stress piling on you, not only that of regular adult life but that of your messy relationship with your best friend.

How ironic that must be, considering the whole reason it started was to relieve stress when now it’s your main source.

You empty your lungs with a shaky sigh and slide to the edge of the bed, intending to fetch a glass of water to calm yourself down. Before you can reach your feet, Jeongguk’s arm catches you at your waist, and then you’re being reeled back under the covers.

“Easy,” he mumbles, his voice grainy and low from sleep, “You’re fine. Talk to me.”

You swallow thickly, the scenes from your subconscious flashing back to you. “Um, that’s alright. Not a big deal.”

You wish he’ll just leave it at that and fall back asleep like he usually does. When his breathing steadies, you think you’re in the clear, but you are horribly mistaken when he yawns and adds, “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently.”

Is it another prompt for you to talk? You’re not sure what to say.

In fact, you’re never sure what to say anymore. Never sure what’s too much, what’s too little, what the difference is between what you say and what you mean. The line blurred months ago and now you’re wandering blind.

You’d enjoy moments like this if it wasn’t for the stark fact that the person you’re with doesn’t love you like you love him.

“Yeah…” you agree. Right now, your chest is heavy and not strong enough to support a conversation. You hope that he’s not too drowsy to take the hint.

A small sound from him makes it seem like another sleepy sentence is in the works, but fortunately, the tension in your chest begins to fade when nothing comes out. His hair shuffles against the pillow and he presses a featherlight kiss to the back of your neck, lips lingering there for a second too long before he sinks back into his position.

When you’re sure he’s slipped under the veil of slumber again, you carefully slide out of his grasp and squeeze into your own space at the edge of the bed. You don’t know how much longer you can last like this.

☆☆☆

“She texted me.”

The sentence makes you stop chewing. Your movements stop aside from an absent blinking, gears spinning overtime to process it.

“She uh, she wants to meet up,” he tacks on. “I think I should go.”

“Why would you do that?”

Jeongguk slowly twists the pasta around his fork, taking a blatant newfound interest in his dinner. He takes a deep breath, but when he opens his mouth, the words catch in his throat.

“I don’t know. I think we need to talk about what happened.”

You scoff, and he takes an immediate offense to it. His eyebrows knit together as a wounded expression takes form on his features.

“What happened? Gguk, she dumped you because you were going through a hard time and she didn’t want to ‘deal’ with it.”

It’s not just you playing the protective best friend role and trying to talk sense into him. It’s not jealousy, either. And sure, maybe you never liked her to begin with, but for good reason. She ended up doing exactly what you thought she would - shattering his heart into a million pieces and leaving it for someone else to pick up the pieces. And considering that’s been you on a multitude of occasions, you think your point of view is valid.

“Listen, I don’t blame her… That can be really hard on someone.”

“So it’s okay for them to just pop in out of the blue, say they can’t handle your emotional issues and bounce? Someone who they claimed to love for over a year and a half? Someone who they were thinking about marrying?”

Jeongguk purses his lips as you speak, a hefty exhale coming through his nose in frustration.

“I just miss her sometimes!”

And you really wish Jeongguk would love you back, but we can’t all get our way, can we?

Not to throw yourself a pity party, though. It’s not like he owes you anything for what you do because you brought it on yourself. He doesn’t control your feelings, even when you want to blame the nerve he has for smiling because it makes you get all jittery.

“She doesn’t even give a shit about me anymore! She’s out with other guys, doing all this shit, posting it everywhere. I… I loved her so bad and she acts like she has no clue.”

You give him pep talks when he’s about to go out with someone else. You comfort him when he’s distraught over someone else. You love him when he loves someone else.

And then-

“You don’t know what that’s like.”

You freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, closing the gate on your lungs until you forcibly open them again as subtle as possible. A stinging feeling you know all too well burns in your eyes as you try to hold back. Jeongguk doesn’t notice in the slightest as his gaze is still fixated on his food.

Your initial reaction is anger. All you want to do is yell, tell him wrong, tell him that you know it all too well because you love him and he’s pathetically oblivious whether by his nature or by choice. Everything you want to say, shouts and confessions, float across your mind and bounce around the walls as each one brings you further to opening your mouth and letting them spill. Then you just want to cry.

But you won’t do any of that. Your situation won’t allow it, not if you want to risk losing him. It’s not a risk you’re willing to take, even if it means suffering in it by yourself and letting the irony of his words go unrealized.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, the fork gripped by your white knuckles tapping mindlessly against the side of the bowl as you swallow the feeling back down. Your hand comes up to scratch at the corner of your eye, wiping away the wetness beginning to pool composedly so he won’t notice.

“I don’t.”

☆☆☆

It’s on a Tuesday evening a couple of weeks in the future when you next see him.

Maybe more than a couple. Maybe a few. Maybe too many. Just enough for his tone to turn to something more confrontational than just casual when he sends you a text saying that he wants to see you again. Particularly when he specified that no, he needed to see you again.

He suggests the park by the river. You’ve been there a few times with him for lunches and to hang out, but the energy is different this time around. Both of you know why you’re here, even though you never thought you’d have to be.

For a while, you didn’t want to make things weird, so you’d come over when he’d ask and leave as soon as you could in an attempt to curb the damage on your heart. It wasn’t until three weeks ago that you actively started flaking on him. You’d let his calls ring until he hung up or left a message and say you were busy when there was absolutely nothing going on.

He stopped by your apartment at one point, too. You were freaking out after he texted you he’d be visiting, pacing around and wondering what to do, what to respond, if to respond at all. The knock at your door came sooner than you expected. Before you were about to pull it open and face what you’d been so casual about denying for so long, it occurred to you: You could simply not open the door.

So you waited. He knocked a few more times, sighing so loud you could hear through the door. He called out your name softly, as if he knew you were right on the other side. He stayed for a few more minutes. Then came the sound of his footsteps padding away. You were safe for another day, but the awful feeling stuck in your chest for days.

It stuck in his, too. He knew he should have never gone that far, never said anything that night, but he also wondered if he could have done it any other way. Standing at your door and having to face the fact that you were undeniably steering clear of him, because of him, was a nightmare. It was stupid of him, but you’d see past it - wouldn’t you?

And now you’re seeing him live and in person for the first time in god knows how long. It’s a foreign feeling you’ve never felt with Jeongguk before, and you hate it. It’s been long enough for the sense of familiarity to fade, or at least be buried by time.

Is this how a comet feels when it passes earth again after so many years apart? Does it feel new every time seeing how things have changed, or are they old friends who pick up where they left off?

“ So… what’s been going on with you?” Jeongguk asks nonchalantly, leaning back on his elbows and shaking the hair out of his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” you shrug, vision focused on the calm waters in front of you. You tug at the grass under your fingertips, loosely hugging your knees to your chest as you sit beside him. “Not much I guess. Just work as usual, you know.”

“Yeah, but how are you?” he presses, trying to find your eyes as you avoid his.

He knew something was wrong from the evident distance and your attitude, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. He didn’t think he’d fucked up this bad.

Your laugh is awkward and forced. “I’ve been fine. Been good.”

Thinking about the past few weeks, it’s not hard to remember but incredibly hard to grasp. It’s the same moments over and over, sourced from a lonely routine. Day by day spending time with yourself, missing Jeongguk, thinking about texting him but never doing it. Wash, rinse, repeat.

His face turns from you and you miss it the second you can’t see it. The feeling is off and both of you know it. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it as he thinks of what to say. If the wrong thing comes out, he’s worried he’ll chase you even further away. It took so much to even get you here.

“Listen, can I be honest with you?” he says.

Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it? He’s tired of beating around the bush. The two of you know so much more than bland small talk.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath. “I always thought that nothing could ever be uncomfortable with you and me. Like we could be straightforward and blunt without it being weird. But things right now are really weird and I don’t know what happened. You’re avoiding me and you don’t want to see me. It’s not like it used to be.”

Your nails scrape beneath each other, entangled in your lap. Clearly things aren’t the same, but you don’t have the energy to be snarky. There are so many things to address and you’re ignorant on where to start.

“I know there wasn’t a discount for the work dinner.”

He nods, looking out over the river. “Yeah, figured.”

“So why’d you lie?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I just wanted you there and I didn’t know how to ask you. I… was starting to feel the shift and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Saying that just gave me an excuse to take any of the weight off.”

He adds quietly, “Your turn.”

“Gguk,” you start, shaking your head as you try to find the right words. You think of the kiss, the dinner, the ring, the argument.

“We act like a couple. We do things couples do. We pretend we’re a couple. But... we aren’t a couple.”

He’s silent. He knows where you’re going. He knew it before you even got here because if you didn’t bring it up first, he would have.

“I think you already know what’s going on, but if you need it spelled out for you, I kinda caught feelings for you. And then you give me your grandmother’s wedding ring and tell me you love me and it hurts so fucking bad because I know you don’t mean it like that. Not the way I wish you did.”

The words dissipate into the fresh evening air, soon filled by delicate chirps and birdsongs. Distant laughter floats around the park, with muffled ferry horns layered behind it all.

“How do you know?”

Your hand pauses, chlorophyll green blades pulled taut between your fingers. No fucking way.

“What?”

He scratches the back of his neck before locking his eyes with yours. “How do you know... that I don’t mean it like that?”

He’s not playing with you, is he? No, he wouldn’t. You respond slightly confused, hesitant to lean into his words just yet.

“Are you saying that you do?”

He laughs and it makes your chest feel like it might burst open. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been saying it. I mean, I thought I was being obvious.”

You suppress the excitement bubbling in your stomach for a second longer to throw him a questionable expression with an extended palm for emphasis. “You told me you wanted to go see your ex-girlfriend and were talking about how you loved her.”

He exhales through his teeth as he squints at you. “Yeah, that went a little far...”

“Only a little?”

“I’m apologizing, so let me, please?” He says, eyes wide with a small smile tweaking up at his lips. “It was stupid. I wanted to see what you would say or if you would get jealous. ‘Cause I thought you might have felt the same and at the time that was the only thing I could think of doing.”

Your expression falls.

“Wait, so did you actually meet up with her?”

“No, no!” He exclaims, rushing to refute such a bizarre idea. “Yes, she texted me, but I said no. Everything you said was right, so… it wasn’t worth it.”

He thinks he’s done, until he sees your stare still lingering on him. What’d he miss? He flops over on his stomach, elbows in the grass as his chin rests on his palms to look at you.

“You also said I didn’t know what it was like to love someone who didn’t love me back.”

A cheeky grin grows on him. “Okay... but technically you don’t because I loved you back the whole time.” One of his arms lowers to the ground, his fingers finding your own. He weaves them together with an affectionate squeeze. “You just didn’t know.”

The way your heart flutters is different this time. Gone are the tiring nerves and teary eyes and the weight of stress on your shoulders. It’s a comfortable sort of excitement, one that you’re in love with almost as much as you are with the boy himself.

“Since when?” you ask shyly, feeling the tingle in your cheeks.

It’s a relief to have Jeongguk back. A life without him wouldn’t be one you could ever get used to.

He was there at the start, he’s here now, and he will be here for as long as he possibly can. When it comes to you, there’s no doubt. He’s yours every time.

His deep brown eyes sparkle under the setting sun, golden and glowing, as he makes a point to find your own. Tone dulcet and tender, he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Since always.”

#jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #btsguild #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader #yoondoze

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lavenderslemonade · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! I'd like to make a request if I may! How would Aizawa, Mic and All Might react if they found out their S/O used to be a Villain (a pretty bad one at that) but gave it all up just to be with them. How they find out is totally up to you! Thank you!

Sure thing! Also, my requests are currently open if anyone is interested!

Also! I can’t believe I’ve already reached 200+ followers, close to 300! thank you guys so much for the support! I’ve actually been debating on posting My Hero Academia fanart. What do you think? Should I go for it?

How (Aizawa, Present Mic, and All Might) React to Their S/O Being an Ex-Villian

Aizawa

- He knew you had come from a pretty tough life, he just didn’t know how tough

- He found out when principal Nezu asked if it was okay for the school to look into your background at the chance of hiring you as a substitute for possible classes

- Aizawa gave them permission, though knew it would be best to talk with you first, though just in case you were down for it, you could already be in the clear to start

- When he brought it up during dinner that evening he noticed you had visibly tensed before running to the bathroom to throw up

- He couldn’t understand why such news would make you upset

- You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, due to what you know he’s now bound to find out

- When Nezu calls him into his office, he’s suspected that you’ve been given the all clear, but Nezu just gives him a sympathetic look before stating that the school doesn’t feel comfortable hiring an ex-villian

- Nezu, feels nothing but pity and shame for having to break the news to the teacher, and slides the file to Aizawa for him to read over

- He finds out that your parents died when you were a child, something he already knew about

- Though he knew you had adopted parents, he didn’t know that before then you have been bounced around from multiple foster homes

- He reads the reports of physical abuse by different families, and once he gets to your high schools years, he see’s where you were first arrested

- It started out as petty theft from stealing food, to cheap jewelry from stores

- It wasn’t till he read up to your late teens that you started doing extreme theft

- Robbing museums of priceless jewels as well as stores, plus helping sell illegal weapons to villians

- Once he got around to you being twenty three he noticed that all the villainous things you used to do just stopped

- He remembers when he met you when you were twenty two at the local cat cafe near his house

- You claimed to be busy mostly due to work, which he now found out what that was, though it clicks in his head that once you turned twenty three was when the two of you had started to date and get serious

- When he gets home, he’s still processing the information

- He was married to an ex-villian, you had been keeping this from him

- He honestly feels betrayed, upset, and currently feeling conflicted about being angry

- He finds you in the bedroom, knees against your chest, staring blankly at the wall

- You just look so sad, and hollow, and something that attracts his attention is the packed up suitcases beside you

- Were you really planning to leave now that he had found out?

- “I’ll go if you want. I’m sorry I never told you.” You stated, still not being able to bring your eyes to meet his

- He just sighs and climbs onto the bed with you, watching once again as your body tenses

- “Why did you never tell me.” There’s clear evidence of hurt and anger in his voice causing you to roughly swallow

- “Because I never wanted you to give me that look. All those nasty looks of disgust I could receive from people who would watch as I was arrested, but I can’t handle you looking at me that way.” You’d choke back a sob

- Aizawa would honestly be conflicted

- He doesn’t know if he should pull you into a hug and comfort you, or just let you be

- Though he weighed against the last option feeling you needed some times, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone

- He was scared, and knew that if he left you alone you’d take it as him wanting you gone, and no doubt about it if he came to check on you, you’d probably be gone through the window and left down the fire escape of your apartment building never to be seen again

- The thought of you leaving caused his chest to ache. The two of you had spent the past six years happily married

- You weren’t a villian anymore, you have paid your dues, and learned from them, thus he felt he had nothing to judge you on or hate you for

- The past is the past, and he honestly wanted you forever in his future

- He’d wrap you in his arms, hugging you close as you sob into his outfit

- When you finally fall asleep from crying so much, he’d tuck you in and start unpacking your suit cases and putting your clothes back up

- His heart would clench when he finds a copy of your wedding photo in one of your suitcases

- After that you’re more open to him about your past, and no longer feel afraid to answer questions he has for you about your childhood

Hizashi

- He finds out by accident

- He had come home late from patrol, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower and cuddle with you, who was most likely already asleep

- He noticed that the mail hadn’t been gotten, and figured your day must’ve been so stressful that you forgot

- Ever since he met you, you’ve been helping with community service, now rolling around to be your fourth year

- He always suspected it was a hobby or something you enjoyed doing

- Oh boy, when he saw one of the letters was from the court house for you he got a bit curious

- He knew he shouldn’t be opening your personal mail, but he was curious as to why the court house would send you a letter

- Suspects that they’re asking you about jury duty, though he’s taken back when he reads that you only have six more months left of community service, and you’ll be able to be a full member of society once again

- He’s confused till it clicks in his head

- If you were forced by law to do community service, you must’ve done something pretty bad

- He sneaks down the hall past your shared bedroom, peeking his head in to see you sleeping soundly

- He goes straight to his office and types your name into the search bar

- He watches as images of you as well as articles of your past crimes pop up

- Turns out you were born into a mafia associated family, thus you practically grew up with a family of villians

- Spends about three hours doing research, noticing that he had met you the year you started your community service, about eight months in if he was correct

- After staring at a computer screen for so long he decides to take a shower to process the information

- He decides that once you wake up the two of you could discuss this and figure out why you wanted to keep this from him

- You grew up in a family of villians, it wasn’t your choice. You didn’t know better until you had been arrested

- Once he’s done showering he notices his office door is cracked open a bit more than he remember leaving it

- He goes to peek in, noticing you at his computer, tears in your eyes and a look of heart break

- He can’t stand you looking so broken, thus he’d push the door open slightly, calling out to you

- You’d shoot your head in his direction, a look of hurt and betrayal playing on your facial features

- He’d reach out to you, but you simply stand and walk past him before he can even touch you

- He chases you down the hall, not being quick enough as you lock yourself in your shared bedroom, and he can hear the closet door opening and the sound of clothes being thrown into a bag

- He’d start to panic begging you to open the door, to talk to him, that he’s not mad you at you for keeping it a secret

- Once he starts to break down crying, you finally open the door

- Instinctively he wraps his arms around your waist hiding his face against your stomach

- He feels your body tense at this action, though it relaxes just as quick

- Can feel you trembling as well as a few sobs escaping you

- Feels you shift to be on the floor with him, holding each other close as the two of you just cry

- After you’ve both settled down, you fixed a pot of tea for the two of you

- Spending most of the night discussing your past, your child hood, and how you had honestly planned to return back to crime until you met him

- The two of you remain quiet the other half of the night, enjoying each others presence, and he can now see a sense of ease on your face

Toshinori

- He had actually met you while you were perched on top of a building, watching as a rich family got in their car to go to a social event

- You were preparing to loot their home while they were gone till-

- “I am here!” The loud voice nearly caused you to scream

- You look up at the tall man, realizing who he is, the one and only All Might

- You were pretty sure you had been busted

- “I thought I was patrolling this area by myself this evening? Ah well! It’s always nice to have company!” He’d laugh loudly like usual

- You’d simply chuckle awkwardly before stating you had to go, but he insisted you stay

- After that for some reason, he always appeared where you were, stating he was also there to help you patrol the area

- It started annoying you to no end, thus you tried your best to endure it till you could rob a place in peace

- He followed you around like a lost puppy, talking with you, asking your questions about your life, some which you lied about

- However, having him around became a bit of a breath of fresh air

- Whenever he would appear you’d forget about your goal of robbing a building or home

- It practically got to the point of you waiting for him so you two could talk instead of looking for a place to steal from

- It surprised you when he asked you out to dinner one evening

- You’d never seen the symbol of peace so flustered before

- That was the beginning of your relationship

- The two of you were there for each other, through thick and thin

- He finds out when he’s leaving the police station one evening after turning in a villian

- States he’s in a rush since his girlfriend is preparing dinner that night

- Tsukauchi finally asks Toshinori who he’s seeing since he’s gotten all up and romantic for the past two years

- He gives your name to the officer, and he takes note of his friends worried expression

- “That’s a little risky don’t you think? No, more than risky! Do you know how the public will react when they find out you’re dating an ex-villian?!” He’d scold

- Toshinori is honestly confused

- Was his friend mistaking you for someone else?

- Seeing Toshinori’s confused expression makes Tsukauchi sigh before showing him your file

- Toshinori silently reads through before sighing and closing it

- He arrives home late that even seeing you sitting at the table by yourself

- It hurts him to know he made you wait, but he has to ask you

- Tsukauchi had stated that it had been years since you robbed anything, he All Might was able to trace it back all the way to the week before you met him

- He had come to the conclusion early on that you had most likely been planning to rob the house he met you at

- “(y/n), we need to talk.” He states, and takes note of you visibly tensing

- He asks you about your past as a villian, and requests that you be up front with him

- He can see the look of fear in your eyes, and watches as you quickly try to make a run for it

- He’s faster, caging you against the wall, staring down at you

- He states he’s not mad, and not planning to turn you into the police, all he asks is that you be up front with him

- Thus you tell him everything

- How you were planning to rob the house you two had met at, that no matter where you turned he was there

- He feels his heart swell as you explain just spending time with him caused you to turn away from being a villian anymore

- You two would remain quiet, as you’re honestly scared about what he might do

- You were sure he would never hurt you, but there was still the chance that he would call the police

- You tensed once you felt his hands press against your arms, and slide down to grasp your small hands into his larger ones

- He randomly apologizes for being late, and gently leads you back into the kitchen so you two can have dinner together

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cssns · 4 years ago

Text

Hello, Everyone!

Please welcome @zaharadessert to the CSSNS!

Tumblr Name zaharadessert

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom? couple years, but I've been a fringe member that whole time cause it took me a while to finish the series. That said, I've only recently worked up the guts to start writing CS fan fiction. Honestly, before I started chatting to the NLNY guys I had consistently talked myself out of writing anything but Harry Potter stuff so...

When did you start shipping Captain Swan? I have a soft spot for a bad boy so... pretty much since he started flirting... probably didn't seriously start shipping it until 'As you wish'. Cause I know I couldn't handle it.

What drew you to this event? one of the people in CSNLNY posted the sign up in our discord and I thought why not? Also, I agree that there isn't enough Killian as a werewolf fan fiction out there.

What inspired your topic? I spammed supernatural ideas and this was the one that clicked the best...

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below. The voices drifting into the kitchen from the dining room grated on Emma’s nerves as she picked up another plate from the rack and started to dry it. It’s not just what they were saying that annoyed her, but the tone and the cadence of the voices, as well as the volume. They wanted her to hear them, but they didn’t want anyone beyond the walls of the dining area to. If she wasn’t so practiced in forcing herself not to react, she’d have laid all three of them out by now.

“I don’t know what he sees in her, I could understand it if she was pretty, but it’s not even like she’s got a good lineage, which we all know is important to Mr Gold,” Tamara’s voice was the lowest pitched of the three. Her complaints were a regular gripe that Emma was forced to overhear but that didn’t make it any easier to ignore the cruel jibes against her looks or character.

“She doesn’t even make an effort, don’t worry, someday he’ll see her for what she is,” Ashley’s voice was whiny, nasal almost.

“The minute he gets what he wants her hard to get will be gone, and she’ll be just another common bitch,” Aurora’s voice was breathy, but that only served to make her comments more cutting.

“You shouldn’t let them talk about you like that,” Emma glanced across at Lily, her tone full of sympathy, but firm, in that way only Lily could get away with.

“I would if I gave a shit what the bitches in waiting thought,” she countered, but she could see the challenge in the brown eyes of her best friend.

“Then why are you trying to dry the pattern off that plate?”

It wouldn’t be half so bad if Emma actually wanted the attentions they hated her for.

For our betas: Who/what have you beta'd before, or is this your first time? Feel free to give as much info as you like. I beta'd some HP stuff for HPFF a looooong time ago, but nothing recent. Other than most of my own stuff...

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event? Meeting new peeps that I can lavish love on their fics and get to know and feel more involved in the fandom.

Be sure to welcome Elaine to the event on tumblr or discord! I know I'm excited for what she's going to bring to this event!

#cssns #cssns21 #gtkm #writers

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bobbymckenzie · 4 years ago

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runaway

☆ pairing: nicky x mc

☆ word count: 2.3k

☆ tags: @serafinedupont ; @ariendiel ; @venueska ; @bellarxse ; @lasswithumor ; @lucas-koh ; @violinet ; @messofakind

☆ author’s note: ok full disclosure i stopped playing like day 3 of season 3 so i’m purely going off of screenshots i’ve seen of nicky. he’s seriously my favorite and i want him so bad!!! ok anyways here’s a one-shot of nicky and my mc, danielle/dani realizing their feelings for each other ! here it is on ao3 ! comments, kudos, and feedback of any kind is much appreciated !! [this is not my favorite thing i’ve ever written but i could not get this idea out of my head]

•─────────✦☆✦────────•

She nudged her way through the crowd, the edge of her dress fisted in her trembling hand, heading towards any exit door she could find. Huge crowds were never her thing, and it never got easier, even after the season ended.

She pushed out onto the balcony, revelling in the crisp, fresh air, breathing so deeply until her chest loosened up a bit.

The edge of the balcony looked out onto the huge lawn, precisely cut and bright as synthetic, store bought grass. Fake looking and expensive, just like half of the patrons at the gala.

She was rubbing elbows with the elite and she hated it. A lot. Humble beginnings to being a sellout.

Valets in steam pressed uniforms maneuvered the expensive luxury vehicles throughout the long, winding driveway, not a single person who made below six figures in sight.

She gripped the cold marble until her hands stung, trying to focus on anything other than her panicked pulse to slow it down. She was never gonna get used to this life, no matter how many high profile events she was invited to.

“Hey, Dani,” a melodic voice called from behind her.

“Oh, Nicky, hey,” she threw him a soft smile, hoping he didn’t hear the way her breath hitched in her throat at her nickname.

“Needed a breather, too?” He slid the glass door behind him, closing it with a click, before coming to join her at the railing.

“Yeah, I just… couldn’t handle the crowd anymore,” she shrugged, taking a shaky breath.

He knew how badly crowds freaked her out. Being on a t.v. show that hinged on hidden cameras and an intimate cast, she never gave off the appearance that she would’ve reacted this way.

But the night of the finale, she found herself hiding in the corner of the Villa bathroom out of the ways of the cameras, trying desperately to catch her breath. Camilo hadn’t come to check on her, like she’d hoped. First person to knock on the door and ask how she was doing was Nicky.

He gently removed their mics, and spoke to her with such kindness and understanding that she couldn’t help but fall for him more than she already had.

God, Camilo was a great partner in the Villa. He was hot, incredibly suave, and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. But it turned out to be exactly what she was afraid of.

All passion, no substance.

It wasn’t a messy break up, but she wouldn’t count on him trying for more than the basic “How are you?” type of filler conversations with her if they ran into each other on the street.

Which they just so happened to do, since the charity gala insisted on trying to get any single islanders to offer up a date in exchange for a hefty donation.

“Sorry about that. I know this isn’t your kind of scene,” he said, leaning his arm against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles. His body faced her, but he turned his head, surveying the lawn.

Danielle couldn’t help but stare at his defined features, the short, neat stubble parallel to his jawline, full lips pursed in a thoughtful pout.

He looked back at her, brows furrowed, concern knitted between them. “Are you okay with the auction?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. The amount of old men here is disconcerting. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do if I get bid on by a really ugly guy –”

Nicky cut her off, laughing heartily, the bass of his voice reverberating off of the marble. “Damn, you really don’t wanna be here.”

“What, and you do?” She giggled, his laugh infectious. It was one of her favorite sounds.

He shrugged. “Not really. I was kind of hoping I could auction off a chance to play at somebody’s wedding or something.”

“Yeah, they see a handsome face–” she motioned up and down his body, “–before they see everything else.”

“You say that like you aren’t a catch, too, Dani,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes, trying to be nonchalant when she was freaking out inwardly.

“So does that mean Elladine is okay with you being here?” She asked hesitantly. She knew that they’d reunited after she walked out of the Villa, and from what the tabloids said, they were happy.

He winced, taking a deep breath. “Uh, yeah we broke up a little while ago. We just realized we were better off as friends.”

“She did, or you did?” He couldn’t lie to her – they knew each other too well for that. By the way he fidgeted, she knew she’d hit a nerve.

“You got me. I did. I still love her, don’t get me wrong. It just ended up feeling more like a partnership than a relationship you know?” He shrugged, trying to mask the unsurety in his voice.

“You realized maybe it was better when there were other people around?”

He glanced away, rolling his lips together. “...Yeah.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath, her pulse picking up speed.

Danielle had developed a huge crush on Nicky early on, but he and Elladine had gotten along so well that she just settled for being best friends. From the moment he compared her to his sister, she set her sights elsewhere.

But sometimes Nicky’s lingering looks gave her mixed signals. She never completely gave up hope, but the chances of them coupling up was next to none.

“So… I saw you and Camilo are done. You doing okay? Sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner –”

“No, it’s okay. Life happens. I don’t blame you at all,” she said, with a sense of finality.

“Dani… how are you holding up? Really?”

He could see right through her, just like she could with him.

She blew out air, her lips flapping together. “It’s weird. I haven’t really seen him since our break up. I mean, not privately at least, you know? He texted me on my birthday, and it was cordial, but it’s still weird.”

“Did you talk to him tonight?”

“I waved, but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like having an obviously fake and super awkward conversation in front of the press,” she shrugged.

“Uh, well he asked for you a little while ago.”

“When?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she pushed away from the railing.

“Yeah, I have a suspicion that he’s here with somebody else,” he said softly, like he was trying to break the news to her without hurting her feelings..

Her eyes widened. “I’m – I don’t –”

“It’ll be okay. Camilo’s friendly enough. I don’t think he’d cause a scene,” Nicky shook his head sympathetically. “Stay next to me. I’ll keep you preoccupied.”

“It’s not that, I just. I don’t… know what to say. Especially in front of everybody like that. I know people will zero in on us and fixate on how we talk to each other and interact,” she shook her head, gripping the railing again.

“God, especially if he’s introducing me to his new girlfriend or whatever. If I raise my eyebrows at the wrong time, they’re gonna think I’m upset –”

“Or if you scrunch your nose up like you always do,” he added.

She stared at him, mouth parted. “Hey, I know you’re not talking, Mister Grimace.”

“Mister Grimace? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You grimace when you hate something, dummy,” she laughed. “Did you really not know you did that?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Most people make faces when they hate something, Dani.”

“Not like you, they don’t!” She shook her head, still grinning. “You couldn’t pretend to like something if your life depended on it.”

He grimaced. That set her off even more, her soft laugh growing into a full blown cackle.

“You just proved my point, dumbass,” she said between gasps of breath, pointing at his crinkled nose, full lips raised into the exact face she’d been poking at him for.

“Hey, who’re you calling a dumbass? The ‘D’ in dumbass stands for Dani, if we’re being real,” he joked, his distasteful expression melting into one of adoration as he watched her laugh at his expense.

“Shut up,” she said, thrusting her arm out to playfully push him. He captured her hand underneath his own, his warm palm rough against her soft skin.

Normally, it would’ve been a light hearted gesture, because they joked with each other all the time in the villa, but in that moment, with no islanders, no cameras, no audience – those feelings they tried so desperately to repress were bubbling to the surface.

Nicky’s eyes flitted to her lips, parted in surprise at his hand covering her own. Her eyes flitted down his chest, fixating on the white button up beneath his blazer that hugged his toned chest just right.

He found his own gaze wandering down her body, the floor length dress accentuating places he normally never found himself looking at.

God, he had a full view of her near naked body every day for weeks and never thought twice about it, but now, seeing her in an elegant gown that was snug around the places that used to be exposed, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She knew she looked good, because the hair, makeup, and wardrobe people wouldn’t leave her alone until she was picture perfect. She wasn’t used to being under that kind of individual microscope, seeking the approval of rich people, like she was supposed to be one of them.

Danielle felt so out of place the entire night – until the moment Nicky stepped outside to comfort her.

“Nicky…” she breathed, the charged air between them sending an electric buzz through her limbs.

“Yeah?” he whispered, eyes half lidded, yet focused on her like she was the only person in the world.

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it, instead glancing around the balcony and the large glass doors and windows that riddled their side of the mansion.

“Let’s get out of here,” she chewed the inside of her lip, watching his every move, hoping – praying – that he wasn’t going to reject her.

“How?”

God, she could feel the secondhand embarrassment coming on, and she glanced away from his lips, trying to come up with an excuse to explain what came over her. Her cheeks warmed, and she was thankful for the thick foundation that neutralized her blush.

“Forget it,” she said, tugging away from him.

“I didn’t say no,” he murmured, firmly holding her hand in place. “I asked ‘how?’ Do we have a plan?”

She blinked, trying to process his words.

After all those months of pretending like she’d been rid of her feelings, he’d just affirmed that he wanted her just like she wanted him.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Very.”

Minutes later, after devising a quick plan to slip out the back, they were sprinting across the dewy lawn, breathless but free, sliding into the limo as soon as the driver opened the door for them.

They panted, smiles wide and skin glistening. As she watched a bead of sweat slip down his temple, the atmosphere changed, dripping with the sexual tension they never acknowledged.

Nicky was thankful the driver had already rolled the divider up, because as soon as his foot was on the gas, they were sliding closer to each other, folding under the pressure.

God, it was like the logical and emotional sides of his brain that’d been playing tug of war for so long finally snapped the rope, and everything he pretended not to notice flooded out.

There were so many things about her that he paid attention to that he figured was because they were close friends. He cursed himself for being such an idiot, because there’s no way he should’ve thought about her lips, the dimple on her left cheek, the curls that framed her face perfectly, the curve at the small of her back… a “friend” would’ve never thought about how gorgeous she was every single day.

He never betrayed Elladine, because he really did love her – but he mixed his feelings for both Elladine and Dani up. What he felt for Elladine was friendly love, like a family member or a best friend. The gravitational pull he had towards Dani should’ve never been mistaken for just friendship.

He had been falling for her day by day, but chalking it up to finding his life long best friend.

And as he searched her eyes, hand cupping her cheek, he knew he’d lucked out. He’d found both things in Dani: a partner and a best friend.

He spent weeks in a villa full of eligible women, but he demoted her before he could give her a true chance. He kicked himself in the ass for not realizing it sooner.

So when his lips met Dani’s for the first time, everything clicked into place.

They’d deal with the backlash of leaving the charity gala early. They’d deal with the press swarming them asking why he’d insisted on their friendship from the beginning. They’d deal with the onslaught of texts from the other islanders teasing them about finally getting together. They’d even deal with Elladine and Camilo later.

But in that moment, neither of them cared, focusing on the sweet bliss that was their first kiss.

And when he pulled back to see how she was feeling, he was met with the same serene expression he knew was on his own features – they were finally on the same page.

#litg #litg s3 #litg season 3 #litg nicky #nicky horne #litg fanfic #my fic #if u dont feel like reblogging/liking i'd appreciate a kudos !! <3

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iceshard1011 · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Self Confidence Issues, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, janus is somft, Deceit | Janus Sanders is a Sweetheart, roman needs so many cuddles (as per usual), Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Good Friend, they all love each other okay, possibly hinted future roman/virgil/janus?, Healing, ‘roman genuinely fell for janus before he realised he was being used’ hc squad raise your hand Summary:

Roman doesn't think organising a movie night should be this hard. Janus isn't sure that that's the issue.

2.4k word fic below :)

His first mistake, Roman believed, was letting newfound confidence get to his head. He could consider blaming Nico, and the well-started friendship he and Thomas were gaining. If he jumped through enough hoops, he could probably blame Virgil, for his quiet support and encouragement throughout the past few weeks.

Roman didn’t want to do either of that, though. He loved Virgil, and he was quite sure he liked Nico a whole lot too. Blaming them would not be fair nor helpful. Being practical was the best option.

Roman supposed thinking that way made a lot of sense, given whose door he was standing in front of, fighting with himself to knock.

Do it, he hissed at himself. It’s not that hard.

Plus, this was Logan, of all sides. More than enough times, Roman had certainly been offended and sometimes even hurt by the logical side and what he often had to say, but as of recently... Roman wrung his hands together. Roman hadn’t been a particularly dependable friend, either.

You owe him.

The spike of guilt that sent jolting through his arms propelled his hand forward to knock solidly against the door.

The door opened without much of a pause — Logan had always been organised and timely, not something that Roman could say for himself — and Roman was being looked at with mildly disguised contempt. Nothing new, there.

“Hey, Specs,” he said with a trying grin and small wave.

Logan straightened his tie. “How can I help you, Roman?” His voice was crisp. Colder than usual. Roman tried not to feel intimidated.

“I just... Well, I thought that we haven’t had a movie night in quite some time.”

Logan did not respond. Roman continued.

“And, you know, we have some popcorn that needs to be eaten.”

Logan did not leap forward to correct him that popcorn kernels that were packaged to be microwaved did in fact not expire or hold a due date to be consumed.

“I also thought we could probably eat some pizza, too, because,” Roman laughed, “who doesn’t like pizza, right?”

Logan did not laugh in return. In fact, he barely reacted at all, beyond a slight, irritated twitch of his eyebrows. Roman ducked his head, then, feeling suitably chastened.

“Figured… it would have been a fun idea,” he finished in a lame mumble. He waited for Logan’s door to close, or to be frigidly turned away. Instead, there was a quiet hint of a sigh, and Roman glanced up. The logical side had lost his mask of frosty indifference, but there were still edges around his eyes that looked dangerous. His shoulders had relaxed, though, and when he met Roman’s gaze, the creative side felt a little more welcome to be talking with his friend.

“I will be downstairs at seven o’clock, then,” Logan said. Roman lit up.

“Brilliant!” he said, a little too loudly, and lowered his voice. He nodded vigorously, grinning. “See you then!”

Logan paused for a thoughtful moment, before replying, “See you then, Roman,” and closing his door with a gentle click.

Roman turned and almost happily skipped down the hallway until he realised which door he had to head to next. He swallowed back any hesitance before it could creep into his muscles and halt him in his steps, and knocked on the light blue wood.

“Coming!” called Patton’s high, cheery voice from inside. Roman wondered if he was faking again today. The moral side had reverted back to repressing a lot of his less-than-ideal feelings, especially after tension in Thomas’ mind had skyrocketed. With the majority of Thomas’ sides suffering from the current events in his life, Patton had taken on the role of being the one source of optimism and happiness again. Roman wondered if it was for everyone else’s sake or his own, at this point.

The door swung open to Patton’s beaming smile. It looked a little less force than the last time Roman had seen him. How many days ago was that?

“Oh.” Patton’s breath rushed out of him, but before his disappointment could pierce Roman, he was smiling again, tremulous, his eyes slightly shiny. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Pat,” Roman murmured, then steeled himself. “Pizza and popcorn and movies for dinner at seven, if— if you wanted.”

Patton blinked then lit up like a Christmas tree.

(Fitting, Roman thought mildly.)

“Oh, that’s a great idea, Roman!” he said, and Roman felt his heart flutter happily. He wasn’t sure if Patton hated him yet, or still, but the look he was giving Roman made him think that maybe he hadn’t completely ruined his relationship with the moral side. He smiled.

Patton leant forward for a moment, as if he wanted to hug him, but then thought better of it. Roman instinctively wanted to cry a little, at that, but the cautious but loving hand-squeeze he got in place made things a little better.

“I’ll be there,” Patton promised.

Roman nodded, stepping back once Patton let him go. “Good, then. Uh, yeah, good.” He turned to head down the hall but then paused and glanced back. Patton tilted his head imploringly. “I just, uh... good job, the other day. With, uh— when Thomas rehearsed what he was going to say to Nico, in the public bathroom.” He shrugged. “Even though... you know, he never actually got to say any of it.”

Patton looked surprised, but he recovered. His smile was gentler, this time, more genuine. “Yeah. Nico’s… Nico’s something special.”

Roman looked down and thought of sparkling eyeshadow. He hid a smile. “Yeah, he is.”

The final stop Roman had in mind before moving back downstairs to help with the construction of an epic pillow fort made Roman feel as if the floor was not beneath his feet.

He hadn’t bothered to think about trying to contact his brother. If Remus heard what was happening and wanted to join, he would anyway. It wasn’t much of Roman’s business. This whole idea had come to life when Roman had mumbled something about family nights, and Virgil, who had been lying on Roman’s bed while the creative side was splayed across the bedroom floor, had pointed out that it sounded like a great idea. This, unfortunately, only left…

Roman curled in fingers into fists to keep his hands from trembling. It didn’t work. Even as he raised a fist to knock on the door, he was quivering so much he feared it wouldn’t be loud enough.

He gritted his teeth and pushed through it, pounding on the door. The resulting gentle thunks didn’t seem to match up.

The voice from inside was muffled. “The door is locked.”

Roman paused. He almost turned to head back downstairs before he wanted to smack himself in the forehead and hated both himself and Janus for it. After the handle was twisted cautiously, the door creaked open. Roman peered into the room, unwilling to go in much further. He could vaguely see Janus sitting at his desk, back turned to the door. When he heard the door open without greeting or the sound of entrance, he sighed. Roman wondered if he expected a prank from Remus.

The deceitful side stood and turned for the door, but froze when his gorgeous — no, no — eyes found Roman’s face.

“You are not Patton,” he said. Roman tried to keep his expression neutral. Sorry to disappoint, he thought but didn’t say. He pulled away from the door as Janus approached.

“Family movie night,” Roman said. He stared past Janus’ shoulder, unwilling to look at the expressions dancing over the deceitful side’s elegant features, or the questions in his glowing eyes. “Downstairs. Seven o’clock.”

There, he told himself, and felt his rigid shoulders relax slightly. You’ve done it. Now he could escape back downstairs to the comfort of warm hoodies and murmured affirmations.

He didn’t get a chance to pull back.

Soft gloved fingers were curling, impossibly gently, around Roman’s own trembling hands, and the prince wanted to scream. Janus spoke, and for a moment, Roman thought he was being lied to again.

“I hope you’re angry,” Janus whispered, and Roman fought against the tremors in his hands. He wondered if Janus could feel them. He hoped not. “I hope you hate me. I hope that’s what this,” he squeezed Roman’s hands, and the creative side almost collapsed, “is. I hope to Thomas that you’re not scared of me.”

Roman didn’t meet his eyes. He stared miserably at the floor, dutifully ignoring Janus’ hypnotizing gaze burning holes into his forehead. Roman wanted him to let go. He wanted Janus to look away. He wanted to curl up in Janus’ arms and never leave.

He couldn’t answer. His silence spoke for itself.

Janus let go of one of Roman’s hands. He didn’t know what the snake was doing at first until he felt the barely-there whisper of gloved fingers caressing against his cheek. He flinched away. Janus recoiled.

“Roman,” he said quietly. Roman bit his lip. “Roman, can you look at me, my prince?” Roman closed his eyes.

A shaky sigh, and those hands clasped Roman’s again. When Janus spoke again, his voice was firm, but not uncaring.

“Roman Creativity Sanders.”

Roman still went tense.

“I know I’ve wronged you. You know that you have also wronged me, albeit on a much smaller scale. I doubt there will be a day I don’t regret hurting you.” Roman swallowed the whine beginning to lodge in his throat. Janus’ voice dropped to a whisper. “No matter what happens between the mindscape, between us,” Roman felt a cool forehead pressed to his, “I promise that you will never need to fear me.”

Roman’s eyelids fluttered. Janus’ breath warmed his lips. Roman worked his jaw a few times before he managed to speak.

“I fear what you’re capable of.” Roman wanted to hate how his voice cracked. He couldn’t.

Janus’ breathing shuddered painfully.

“In all honesty,” he whispered back, “me too.”

Finally, Roman opened his eyes again. He still didn’t look up. “Really?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Janus murmured. Roman sniffed, though he wasn’t sure why. Was he crying?

“I don’t want to be afraid of you,” Roman said, and it sounded like an almost-sob.

“I know,” Janus soothed. Roman had to actively fight the urge that told him to press himself against the deceitful side. “I know, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my prince.”

Roman bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything else stupid. Janus rubbed his thumb along the groves in Roman’s hands. He didn’t stay composed long after that.

“I’m sorry,” Roman blurted, the words spilling from his mouth like vomit. (That was a particularly Remus-like thought, he managed to realise, before it was overtaken by chants of evil twin evil twin evil twin). “I’m so sorry, it’s— I—”

Janus tried to hush him, moving his hands to rub Roman’s shoulders (except his hands were still squeezing Roman’s, and how did that work?) but Roman was blabbering over him.

“It’s all my fault, everything, Thomas, Patton, I— he should have gone to the call back, but I stopped him and—”

“Roman, my dear, please—”

“It’s a gorgeous name,” Roman babbled, and Janus paused, surprised. “It’s beautiful, truly, I— I’m so stupid—”

“Stop that.” Janus’ tone was snappish. Roman recoiled. A third pair of pairs moved to cup his face. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me?”

Roman couldn’t speak.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Janus coaxed. “Tell me it’s not your fault.”

“I can’t,” Roman whispered.

It was silent. Roman wondered if Janus was getting sick of him, if he wanted to stop trying and go back into his room.

“Then I’ll stay with you,” murmured Janus, “until you can.” Roman trembled in his arms. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Please,” Roman whispered, and Janus ducked his head, as if trying to meet his eyes. “I mean— I— yes, yes, please, I—”

Janus’ — multitude of — arms encircled him further, pulling him forward to rub at his back and comb fingers through his hair and stroke his face. He hushed and hummed, his voice vibrating through his chest where Roman had rested his forehead.

Roman didn’t know how long the hug lasted, but eventually he felt the gnawing worry of what Virgil would be thinking if he didn’t return downstairs soon.

He leant back. Janus’ arms loosened compliantly but didn’t let go completely.

“What is it, my prince?” Janus asked, rubbing Roman’s shoulders.

“I should get back to Virgil,” Roman said, but his voice was strangely hoarse. He expected Janus to recoil, or grow tense, or even for his voice to betray hints of hurt. Instead, he only gifted Roman with a gentle smile. Roman didn’t look further up than his lips.

“Of course,” Janus said. “We wouldn’t want him to panic unnecessarily.” Roman tried to smile back but failed miserably. In return, Janus ran a thumb along his jawline. “Don’t try, sweetie. It’s okay. You don’t need to lie to me.”

Roman nodded, suddenly holding back tears.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” Janus asked, and Roman couldn’t understand why he was being so kind. After what Roman had done? Why wasn’t he being yelled at, snapped, insulted, shoved away?

“Not right now,” Roman said, and had to clear his throat to try to not whisper. “But… tonight…?”

“I’ll be there.” Janus nodded. “Save me a spot,” he added with a smirk. Somehow, it didn’t make Roman feel as if he was the victim of malicious flirting.

Roman nodded back and started to back up. Janus pulled back, his fingers lingering against Roman’s for a moment before retracting completely. Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times before he realised that he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. He turned to make for the stairs.

“Roman?” Janus called after him. He paused obediently. “I’m not being true to my function when I tell you that: your bravery astounds me.”

Roman mentally paused, then, too, taking his time to pick that apart. Once he worked it out, he turned, his eyes wide. His gaze met Janus’. He couldn’t smile, but he knew Janus could see the gratitude in his bright eyes.

Janus winked at him, and it wasn’t flirtatious or mocking and it didn’t make Roman feel like he couldn’t stand. The yellow door closed, and Roman felt like he was filled with warm sunbeams. Virgil wouldn’t ask when he returned downstairs, quieter, but in a much happier mood than having left, but he’d study Roman in the corner of his eye until he was reassured that he was alright.

And that night, if Janus arrived, a little after Logan and Patton but before Remus, and inserted himself on the couch beside Roman to idly play with his hair while Roman melted under his touch, well, no one was going to comment on it.

#sanders sides #roceit #roman sanders #Janus Sanders #prinxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #angst with a happy ending #romangst #cross posted on ao3 #platonic prinxiety

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 4 years ago

Text

Amy Lee Dives Into the Tragedies That Inspired Evanescence’s ‘The Bitter Truth’ — Exclusive Interview

Congrats on the release of The Bitter Truth — how are you feeling?

Thank you, I'm feeling so happy that it's out. It's hard to really sum it up — awesome feelings of satisfaction. I'm really happy that it's out there and everybody's listening to it, it's cool to see the fans react to it and dig into it. We're going to be releasing our video for "Better Without You" (which came out on April 16), I'm so excited about the video!

So we're in a good, happy place right now. Looking forward to when we can be together again, for sure.

Obviously this wasn't your first record, but is the first new, original material you guys have put out in about a decade. Do you still find it nerve-wracking when you release new music, especially when fans have been waiting awhile for something new?

(Laughs) Well, I don't find it nerve-wracking as far as anticipating a reaction, I'm mostly just excited for that. It's just getting back into the groove of doing a lot of press and promo, and running around. And it's different nowadays with the pandemic because it's like, "Do your own lighting! Do your own audio! Do your own everything," and like, make it work from home most of the time.

So it's been a lot of work, but when you're working for something that you really love, it's worth it. I mean, it's fun. So I'm feeling good.

Have you seen any fan theories about any of the songs come up at all, and were any of them accurate?

That's a good question. I can't think of something off the top of my brain like that. I don't know, I feel like mostly they're just getting it. But you ask me whatever you want, and I will answer to the best of my comfort zone (laughs).

How did all of the personal tragedies that the band went through, and all of the events that have been happening in the world impact this album?

Those two things are literally the biggest lyrical catalyst for this time and for this album, particularly the grief. That's what started the whole thing. We started writing this album, focused on it, in 2019, at the beginning of the year. And I'm so glad we did, we had a bunch of writing sessions throughout 2019 in between touring, we'd just get together when we could and write. I was writing on my own, but just setting aside time as a band to write.

I lost my brother in 2018 at the beginning of the year, so that was just a really, impossibly hard life change. So I think I've learned, yet again, that the biggest challenges and the biggest pains in my life are usually what lead me to music, and it's hard to admit this, but what tend to make the best work for me. Not just grief, but challenges — things that are hard.

And the whole world has been going through incredible challenges over the last year, the last couple of years actually with everything going on, the pandemic and the fight for democracy in the world. All of that came at the right time, where I was coming out of grief. I'm still living in it, but processing it, and then this fire and this fight became a part of it. So the journey through all of that, that is the majority of what the album's about.

You kind of hit the nail on the head there because I was going to ask if you think that the best art seems like it comes out of a place of sadness and pain, since it is so cathartic for artists. And as you've called it — it's "writing to heal." So do you find yourself gravitating toward music that is more emotional?

You know, I don't even know if I can say it's "the best," but it's the deepest. It's the most meaningful. You have to go through something to have something to say that is going to touch somebody on a deep level. And for me personally, music has always been my therapy, my catharsis, the place to pour it out and spin it into something good that I can love and reflect on.

Instead of running away from all of the hard things in life, if I dive into them through music and really start pouring it out and processing there, it's like you're able to make it worth something. It wasn't just all a waste, because I have seen, over the last 17 years, with interacting with our fans how much that it can mean to them and help them connect and process and be something good in their lives.

Knowing that now, too, was something that pushed me forward in the times when I felt like it was too hard. Knowing that we were all going through something and our fans were down too and hoping for something, we promised we were gonna come out with a new album in 2020. We just all kind of made a pact at the beginning of the year when everything started getting shut down that we weren't gonna let anything stop us.

So how was your experience writing this album versus others in the past, and how do you think you've grown as a songwriter and a musician this time around?

We had to be brave. And you know, I have to say, it's weird to connect it to this, but Synthesis taught us something about being brave and trusting that something would work that we'd never tried before and just going for it.

I have always been the person who over prepares, practices for way too long before we get together, has everything totally run through when we're gonna play a concert that we've done before a lot of times. And I have broken from that routine so much in the past years.

Synthesis was important for us because we had to trust every day, the only way to do it was to work with a different orchestra every night. Having a different group of musicians onstage every single night was the only way to make that happen. You don't have time to have rehearsed the whole entire set with that group that day, and then play that whole concert that night, it's just not possible.

So we were literally playing the majority of our sets on that tour for the very first time with that group of musicians — without a click and everything else — just live in front of the audience. It was literally like a tightrope, like there's no way to know if something's gonna go horribly wrong, and we just had to trust that we were gonna be good enough musicians and performers to handle it and look at each other, and work through it and get to the next place.

Man, it was so satisfying, it was such a good experience, and it was so beautiful and rewarding. Part of the takeaway from that for me was to be confident and not to be afraid, and just to trust that we've got it in us to do what it is that we think we can do, that we dream of.

This year, going into it, we just started breaking rules. Before the pandemic even hit it was like, 'We don't have the whole album written. We just have a few songs and a whole bunch of pieces. We're not going on tour 'til March." That actually didn't happen, but we weren't planning to go on tour until last March (laughs).

Why don't we hit the studio for just a couple of songs and avoid burn out of having to have all of the songs before we go in, "Let's just go in for a couple of songs." It went really well, it turned into four and then we had to be apart for the rest of the album.

It was another one of those moments where it's like, "Okay, we can either have faith and just say 'Fuck it, I don't know what's gonna happen with the pandemic or when we're ever gonna be able to go back and get together again in person. But I have faith that we're gonna find a way to work it out no matter what. So let's go ahead and start putting singles out.'"

It was either that or just wait and go, "Sorry everybody, I know we said we were gonna release music, but we're not going to." I didn't want to be another disappointment. There was so much of it last year, I wanted to be something that was proof that life could go on.

So the decision was just like, "Okay, we're gonna go ahead. We're gonna put out 'Wasted On You' and make a video from home, and then release another one in a couple of months." And it wasn't just about not knowing when we were gonna get back together, it was that the songs weren't written, and for me, that's terrifying. Like, before the songs are written, we're already on a promo schedule and talking about the album, releasing songs already and like, the clock is ticking in a way.

That was a lot of pressure to put on ourselves, but it really was just like, "We're just gonna have to have faith in this. I know we can do it somehow. We always do. In the end it works out, it's gonna work out!" And thank god it did, we finally got to get together, most of us, last end-of-July. Jen [Majura, guitarist], we still haven't seen since those first four songs right before the pandemic lockdown.

That's wild. I mean, it's out now, and it seems like it came just at the turning point in all of this with the vaccine and everything. Everybody's starting to get back on their feet.

Yeah, I think it's working out honestly. Because now, it's just come out and we can at least see the light at the end of the tunnel. Like you said, with the vaccines and stuff and getting back and eventually going on tour. Because the next thing that we're all just looking towards and dying for, is to play these songs live.

Absolutely. How do you think that these songs might translate live differently from anything you guys have done in the past?

It's just going to feel really good to have new material to play live, like so much of it. Because for so long, we've been playing shows a lot over the past, I don't know how many years, during this time that we haven't been putting out new music. So our live show has really just been about picking out hits and our favorites and whatever, and making set lists out of our music that's been there.

We finally have something that represents us now that isn't, there were a couple of songs on Synthesis, but literally since like 2011. We're a new band since then, a lot happened since then. So to put something out now that feels so exactly in tune with who we are, what our tastes are, what our abilities are, is just gonna feel really good. It's gonna be hard to play the old ones, honestly.

So let's dive into the album a little bit. Starting with the opener, I'm not sure if there's an actual significance to this or not, but is there a reason "Artifact" and "The Turn" are split into different parts?

They're different songs in my head, it was kind of a decision about the first bit, the second bit and "Broken Pieces Shine," like where the track markers were gonna go. And that was a tough choice for me because I know the majority of people aren't really listening in order on a CD, a lot of people are just plucking out a song.

So I want you to be able to click to "Broken Pieces Shine" and just hear the song, but it so needs that build-up, that's part of it in my mind. So it really was just a decision about clipping it.

The first part — "Artifact" — that's me in a hotel in the middle of the night on tour in 2019, just recording into my laptop. I just had an idea. We actually kept it and didn't re-record it, which was really weird, and I didn't expect to happen. But it just made sense in the end.

That next portion — "The Turn" — that's a collaboration between Scott Kirkland from the Crystal Method and myself. We just sorta met on tour one day and made friends, and decided, "Hey, send me stuff! I'd love to work with you, okay I'd love to work with you." And he sent me a bunch of stuff, and I sent him stuff. He had that bit of music sort of, and I rearranged it and wrote vocals to it and that turned into that part.

I knew early on that I wanted that into "Broken Pieces Shine" to be the beginning of the album because of the way the lyrics set it up. The first part, "Artifact," lyrically is just a dedication to my brother. I'm just gonna put it that simply — it's a dedication to my brother.

And then when "The Turn" starts, it's sort of just like this calling-us-back, like calling all of the spiritual forces in the universe back to ourselves and collecting all the pieces of who we've been, who we were, who we are and who we're gonna be.

After all this time that we haven't been out, it's like we need to just build into the moment where you finally hear the guitars come in. So that's part of it.

And then when "Broken Pieces Shine" happens... I've always sort of seen this album, the moment, like where it begins and what it's about, is it begins sort of at ground zero of a tragedy. The result of the album is about the journey getting back up.

So when I hear those guitars, and the first line starts, "There's no way back this time / What is real and what is mine / Survival hurts," it's like I see somebody face-down on the ground standing back up again and dusting off, clawing back up and then starting to walk forward and refuse to just lay there and die.

So that's the setup to the beginning of the album, and then the rest is plenty of ups-and-downs, and it's about plenty of things. But that's the beginning of the journey.

"The bitter truth" is a line that's repeated a couple of times throughout "Wasted on You." How did you go about choosing that as the title for the album, as opposed to any other phrase that's repeated throughout the album?

I think it really sums up a theme that we come back to a lot on the album, which is about facing the pain. The only way out is through, not just the pain, but facing the broken pieces, facing the things about ourselves and about our society that aren't perfect, that are flawed, that are broken or that are wounded.

Because we can't heal, we can't improve, we can't change, we can't grow and we can't ever leave the horror of the moment until we first accept the brokenness of ourselves. Until we accept that something's wrong, we can't fix it.

That song, "Wasted on You," that was one of the first ones that was really finished, and it was time to pick the album title and we were still writing songs. But it was already forming and I was like, "This sums up what we're talking about now and what we're going through in a really big way on an outward-in, inward level."

Based on the lyrics in "Wasted on You," do you consider yourself someone who has a hard time getting over things and moving on from things? What advice can you give to people who do struggle to move on from either failed relationships or a loss?

It's hard, because sometimes you're in a relationship that you just need to cut out of your life in order to move on. It's just true. It doesn't make you a bad person for you to just step completely away and cut somebody out of your life, and there are times I've had to do that. It sucks.

But you don't need to feel guilty about it if you're making a choice that's for health and stability and all of those things. But I think that we don't always have to do it that way either, and I do also think it's important to remember it's important not to just stuff stuff down like it never happened deep within yourself. I feel like it's better to hold onto your memories.

And even in those bad relationships, those bad breakups and those moments in time that you've had to move on from, I'm at a place in my life now where I'm not feeling anger anymore really. Not for the most part, even the people that were horrible (laughs). I'm not sitting around thinking about horrible, I wasn't able to actually still remember the good moments, too.

It's weird to say that. It took a really long time. But you only get one life. So I don't know, I try not to be the person who's constantly saying, "Oh that time was terrible, that person was terrible, everything about that was a monster," and flush it all away and forget about the parts about it that were why you were in that situation, too.

There's things that you need to move away from and then there's also things that you need to learn from, as well, so it's better not to forget, I guess is the right way to say it.

In "Yeah, Right," you talk about getting paid. Is that a literal reference to getting paid by an actual job, or is it in allusion to something deeper?

Uh, it's about money (laughs). I've seen money change people more often than I would've liked to. And it's always in a negative way.

Well I guess maybe this follows suit, does "Better Without You" happen to be about the music industry?

Part of it is, but it's not entirely about that. "Better Without You"... so each verse is dedicated to a different person or entity in my life along the way. And they go in order. I don't want to name-call, and I've carefully avoided doing that with this song and it's hard because they're about really specific things to me.

If you know me personally, then you know who it's all about. I don't really want to drag people into things many years later. So it starts out a long time ago (laughs) in the first verse with some battles there — a big one for independence. All of it was really a fight for independence.

The second one is the one that's more for the industry. And then the third one kind of brings us to today, in our world and the world around us. I sang the last few lyrics to "Better Without You," including the bridge, the day they called it for Biden. Not to make it political, because the song isn't really. But that was in my heart. I mean, "It's over. It's over now." Feeling it. And it felt so good to sing it knowing that it was true, at least in regards to Trump

Wow that's cool, I wouldn't have looked at it like that. There were a couple of songs where I was wondering if it was about a relationship or something on the grander scheme, and you letting go of that.

Yeah, it is. And it's funny because I don't want it to seem like it's all about the label. It's really not. That's been part of my journey, but there is stuff that's been way more personal than that, and harder. But when I say "the industry," it does mean more than the label. It's just the whole world of people that surround you when you're doing this.

And there was definitely more to it than the label that I was fighting against and struggling with during my journey, but one of the things that I remember being a threat at times was like, "If you don't do this or you don't do that, then it's just all gonna fall apart. You're not gonna have it. This is all gonna crumble. Everything that you have."

And I'm looking at it and going, "I don't want what I had. I want my future, I have an idea for something more." So the chorus, "As empires fall to pieces / Our ashes twisting in the air / It makes me smile to know that / I'm better without you," going like, "It's okay, go ahead. Let it burn down. Let the old idea of the tiny thing that you thought this could be go ahead and burn down because I have an idea for something bigger."

Can you explain the chorus of "Blind Belief," specifically the lines, "We hold the key to redemption / Let icons fall?"

This is another one that's a little bit in the political zone, or social. Why do we believe what we believe? Why do we do the things we do? Why are the laws that are in place, some of them aren't there for good reasons. Some things are just the way they are because they've always been that way.

And I think we've reached a time where we need to say, "That's not enough. We need to make changes that make sense for how much our world and our awareness has grown, and how we need to be better." We need to improve over time and not just leave things the way that they are.

I was actually writing those lyrics, being inspired by the Confederate statues coming down. We can still love our ancestors even if they made mistakes, and we can actually love them better, we can actually do better for our world. It doesn't have to be a betrayal if your grandparents thought differently than you.

We can only grow by moving forward and making better and better decisions as the generations go on. And if we want this place to get better, then we need to admit that things are wrong!

Saying "We hold the key to redemption" is saying you don't have to stand by something that's wrong. Go ahead and let icons fall! Just because something is the way it is and it's always been that way doesn't make it right. We should be asking those questions, and sometimes change is good. It's nothing to be afraid of.

To wrap up, of all of the topics that you cover on The Bitter Truth, what are you hoping at the end of the day that people will take away from this album as they sit with it?

I hope they feel empowered, I really do. I didn't go into this writing process feeling empowered, I started to feel that way through the process. It starts from feeling human, feeling vulnerable, feeling fragile and feeling broken.

But as I start to work, especially together with my friends, with people that support me and I support them, having a band is a really cool thing. Just having something to work on together last year and the year before, amidst the pain and the loss and the frustration, just made it so much better. It was such a healing thing for all of us, and I'm hoping that that same healing and empowered feeling can spread to those who listen to it. I really do.

Instead of just wallowing in grief, we found a way through the music to feel strength and inspiration and hope for something better in the future. I think, if there's a punchline, the biggest thing is that life is worth living.

I think that's something that people need to hear right now, because there has been so much to just feel sad about, so much to feel depressed and frustrated about and helpless, without a voice. Like, "It doesn't even matter what you do, I'm just one little drop in the bucket." But it's not true, that's a lie. We are strong, and change is happening.

And the greatest losses that we can imagine, we actually can overcome and there can still be good things left in life to experience, you just don't know what they are yet. If it can be empowering and spread hope to people, that's what I would most hope for.

#Amy Lee #Evanescence #2021 interviews

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98prilla · 5 years ago

Text

Unwanted

Listened to Logan’s playlist, so naturally, had to write some angst because oh boy does he need some love. I might write a follow up to this, if you guys want one, let me know!

AO3

...

“Logan.” He startles at the voice. He hadn’t heard anyone knock, hadn’t heard the door open, though it must have.

He's sitting at his desk, papers stacked and sorted neatly, the schedule in front of him, which he is comparing to the calendar on his computer, compiling the two, making sure all birthdays and holidays are listed, all social events and commitments and activities and work sessions are allotted time. Trying to make Thomas's schedule line up with their schedule, so the best suited to handle each potential situation is on hand should they be needed.

It’s a headache and a nightmare but it’s his job, and he doesn’t mind it, truly. Finds it to be like a complex puzzle, rearranging and reworking the pieces until they snap together with a satisfying click.

But he finds himself wondering more and more one simple question: why?

Why keep making a schedule that will inevitably and always be tossed out the window? Why make and arrange plans when they will never be followed through on? Why keep speaking if no one is listening, why keep showing up if nobody cares, why is he needed at all?

He isn’t, is the simple answer. The logical answer. So why does it hurt, to think of himself as unwanted, unnecessary, unneeded? He doesn’t have emotions. He doesn’t care. He is logic, he is a robot, he has always been a cold amalgamation of science and fact and blunt objectivism.

A heart can’t break if it doesn’t exist to begin with.

“Logan-"

“What?” He snaps, not looking up from his work, one hand rubbing his temple, the other tapping a pen against his chin idly in thought. “I have work to do, Deceit.” His eyes are blurring and he doesn’t think he’s actually comprehended what he’s looking at for the past five minutes, but it isn’t a lie. He has work to do.

“You need rest. It can wait.” Deceit's voice is soft, inviting, but he shakes his head, regretting it as it starts to dully throb.

“I’ll finish this then go to bed.” He replies, not even sure what he’s saying.

“Logan, it can wait. You’re going to have to redo it in a few days, anyway.” He knows this. Knows that they will ignore the schedule, then wonder why they’re behind on work, and then he would be blamed and have to remake the schedule to fit everything in at the last minute until it became a hurried scramble to get it all finished and he’d be told to plan better next time. This is a fact.

So why does Deceit saying it so casually, admitting out loud that his work means nothing, why does it hurt? He slams the planner shut.

“yes, thank you for enlightening me, Deceit. I already know that my work is extraneous, but I just really needed someone to point out how stupidly useless it is tonight.” He doesn’t know where this angry, heated, bitterness is coming from, but it burns on his tongue and sets his stomach churning as he glares at Deceit, who looks taken aback.

“if you would like to inform me on the proper use of the word infinitesimal or give me flash cards that I try to use to better relate to the others but only succeed in inducing mockery, that would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, I am not in the mood for your company." His head is pounding now, and Deceit is looking at him with complete shock, and he can’t stand this anymore.

“Logan, please-" Deceit reaches out, and he chokes back a bitter laugh, because of course Dee would be the only one who even cared to notice.

“go.” He says lowly, almost a growl. Deceit hesitates. “Go!” he yells, loud and choked and fierce, and Deceit does, fleeing out the door in the face of his anger, which vanishes as quick as it came.

He locks the door, sliding down to the floor, instantly overtaken by sobs as he buries his head in his arms, shaking from the force of them, wheezing as each sob only makes his head pound more, his vision blur and spots dance behind his eyelids, which makes him sob harder, which makes the pain grow. A vicious cycle, which he can’t seem to stop.

Somehow, he manages to crawl his way to the bathroom, making it to the toilet before he throws up, hot tears tracking down his face as he spits the last of the sour bile. His head is resting weakly against the toilet seat, the cool rim balm to his aching, pounding head.

The light is so bright, but he doesn’t have the strength to move to shut it off, the throbbing behind his eyes pounding in time with his pulse, spots of white jumping through his vision as he groans, throwing an arm over his head to block out what he can.

Least listened to. Least appreciated. Least needed. Least loved.

The truths eat at his heart, cloying decay in his chest, acid in his brain because what is the point of even trying? If no one wanted him at his very best, certainly no one would ever want him now.

His head is heavy as the weight of the sun, swimming with stars and explosions of dark light that popped with agony and sends him gasping as his stomach churns. He barely notices the tears anymore, the exhaustion sweeping through him too much to resist, the emotions swirling through him too loud, and he is all too willing to let his mind shut down, if only for a few hours, so he doesn’t have to feel anymore. He wishes he never had to feel, period.

“I can do that.” He doesn’t even have the capability of surprise anymore as gray streaked hair and electric green eyes come into view. “I can help.”

He nods, too tired to do anything else, weakly reaching out a hand. Remus takes it, gently running his thumb over his knuckles, before lifting it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

Logan gasps, feeling… nothing, as everything drains from him. All the hurt and doubt and pain and loathing fades to absolutely nothing, leaving him empty and numb and his mind blessedly absently silent.

“oh, Lolo.” Remus whispers, all the negativity and bad thoughts he’s absorbed from Logan cycling through his mind, and he feels the sting and pain of every one of them as if they were his own, the price of taking them to begin with.

They make him want to tear out his intestine or jam pencils in his eyes or dig and dig and dig in his ears until he reaches his brain and can pull it out one gooey piece at a time, but he doesn’t. He sits, shaking with the effort of not until it passes, and he can focus on Logan, who had so much negativity in that pretty head of his that there had been no room for anything good, as evidenced by his empty, glassy eyed stare, eyes open and unseeing.

“come on, Polaris. Let’s get you taken care of.” He murmurs, pushing back Logan's hair, wincing at the heat of his forehead. Carefully, he scoops Logan up in his arms. Logan doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, and that worries him more than anything. “Go to sleep, starry night. Everything'll be better in the morning.” Logan's eyes slip closed without more coaxing, limp in his arms. He presses a soft kiss to Logan's forehead, finally getting a response as Logan lets out a soft sigh, head tilting so it rests in the crook of his elbow.

...

He wakes slowly, head pounding, feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton. He tries to move, but the slightest shift sends nausea flipping through his stomach, and he retches, barely feeling someone help him sit up, holding a pail under him. His stomach is empty, but it still takes his body a few long minutes to realize it and stop its violent upheaval.

After a long moment, be slumps back into whoever's arms are supporting him, squeezing his eyes shut against the too bright noise of the room, trying to ignore the shaky tears on his face. He still feels numb, mind a bit fuzzed and unfocused, and he shivers despite the warmth he can feel around him, it isn’t enough.

“Here, starlight. Can you drink something for me?” Someone presses a cup into his shaky hands, helping him raise it to his lips. He manages a few shaky sips before his stomach protests and he shoves the cup away, not wanting another round of pain. He trembles, feeling himself pulled closer to the warmth supporting him. Without thinking, he buries his face against it with a wordless whimper, that movement making his head spin and pulse harder, his hands fisting fabric, squeezing in a futile effort to make the world stop rotating. He feels someone gently running a hand up and down his back, someone crooning softly, gentle pressure as someone rests their head atop his, pressing soft kisses against his hair.

“remus?” he slurs, finally recognizing that voice now that the world was barely wobbling, the darkness of Remus's shirt against his closed lids a blessed relief from the too loud light.

“Shhh. I’ve got you, polaris.” His tongue feels thick and dry, but he forces it to work.

“Polaris?” he hears Remus chuckle softly, a hand brushing back his hair.

“That’s the north star, isn't it? The guiding light in the oceans and oceans of space?” Logan murmurs an affirmative, barely lucid.

“Well, that’s what you are, to me. Steady. Dependable. When everything is too much and too loud, you give me balance. You’re my guiding light, Logan. My Polaris.” Remus murmurs gently, not minding the wet spot he can feel growing on his shirt, instead continuing to rub Logan's back, murmur softly, until he falls back into an exhausted sleep.

Remus looks up as the door quietly opens just enough for Deceit to slip through, closing it quietly behind him.

“Any better?” he asks lowly, frowning as he sits on the bed beside Remus, Logan curled against him, practically on his lap. Remus shakes his head, eyes clouded with worry.

“he woke up for just a bit. Hurled again. Fever's holding steady. Isn’t any worse, at least. Got him to drink a bit of water. He knew it was me and didn’t flip out, so I think we’re good on that account.” Deceit nods, running a hand through his curly, disheveled hair for the thousandth time, wincing as he pulls a knot.

“If we can get some food in him, we could give him a dose of Benadryl, but not on an empty stomach like this, it’d just make it worse. I… gods, what do we do?” he breathes out, tucking another blanket around Logan.

“This. This is what he needs.” Remus answers, looking down at Logan. “I felt it, dee. There was so much. It’s still rattling around up here.” Remus taps his head, biting his lip. “It still hurts, Dee.” Deceit softens, honey eyes meeting Remus's.

“I know. Can I?” he asks, holding open his arms. Remus smiles, carefully shifting Logan out of his lap, the soft sound of protest quickly dying as he is settled against Deceit, who cradles him with all six arms, holding him, rubbing his back, teasing through his hair, stroking his cheek. Logan leans into it all, every touch eliciting a small sigh of happiness, a small breath of relief until the logical side has practically melted against him, as if he hasn’t felt touch in years.

Remus wraps an arm around Dee, holding him as he holds Logan, encasing the two of them in warmth.

“he feels useless, Dee. Unwanted. Unneeded.”

“I know. And we will show him otherwise.” Comes the fervent reply, as Logan stirs uneasily in his sleep.

...

He's not sure he's awake, at first. It’s warm. Cozily warm, and soft and he lets out a small breath as he shifts closer into the warmth, relieved as the world stays stationary, his head barely pounds.

“Logan?” Deceit, he’s being held by Deceit.

“I’m sorry. For yelling at you. I didn’t mean to, I-"

“I know, dearie, it’s ok. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were so sick?” Deceit's hand is carding through his hair, and it feels so good, it’s hard to focus on anything else.

“It was neither important or relevant.” He hears Deceit hiss.

“You… Logan, you were nearly unconscious in the bathroom. You were burning up, you’ve been asleep or out of it for two days, how is that not important or relevant?” his voice is incredulous, and Logan looks up, puzzled.

“it is as you said. Any work I do the others immediately undo, anyways. My purpose is irrelevant. I am irrelevant. Being ill and out of commission for two days is of no consequence. It did not affect Thomas, correct?” he asks, bewildered at the soft horror on Deceit's face.

“No. That’s not true, Logan. I should know. It’s not nothing, not irrelevant. You scared us half to death. We need you. We love you.” He crumbles at the honesty on Deceit's face, and buries himself back against the side, shaking from the silent sobs.

“Did they notice? Did they even care? Did... did anyone try and check on me?” He stammers out, knowing the answer from the hesitation in Deceit’s reply. He feels a second pair of arms wrap around him, not Dee’s.

“I’m gone for five minutes, and you break him!” Remus mutters, practically suffocating him against Deceit’s shirt, but he doesn’t care.

“not his fault... was already broken.” he chokes out between teary gasps, and Remus hugs him tighter, nestling his head against his neck.

“You’re perfect. They’re the broken ones, if they can’t see that. If they can’t see how much you care, if they can’t see how hard you work, if they can’t see that you always, always give one hundred percent of yourself in everything that you do. If they don’t care about you as much as you care about them. If they won’t care for you like they should, I’m never letting go of you again. I’m never letting you feel that way again, Logan.” Remus is sniffling too, and Deceit lets out his extra arms, hugging both of them, kissing their heads.

“Remus is right. You are amazing, Logan. You should be told that more often, be shown that more often. I... you should never think that your existence is meaningless. You mean everything, sweetling.”

“i want to stay. I want to stay with both of you. I want... I want to be listened to, I want to be heard, I want to be appreciated, I don’t care if it’s selfish to want that, but that’s what I want.” he stammers breathlessly, oddly afraid that they will reject him for speaking his mind. When was the last time he said what he wanted out loud?

“It’s not selfish to need love and attention. It’s not selfish to work so hard and then want to share it. You can stay, right, Dee? He can stay?” Remus asks, desperation tinging his voice, because he can’t stand it if Logan has to go back and he has to feel all of that all over again.

“of course he can stay. If you’re sure that’s what you want, Logan. They won’t like it. They may be angry.” He points out. Logan lets out a breathy laugh.

“If they get angry at me leaving, they should have made it clearer they wanted me so badly. And if they blame you for it, I will quickly dissuade them of that notion. I am sure, Deceit. I know it will change things. I know it will change me. But I am sure.” He feels Deceit smile, pressing his lips to his forehead for a long, endless moment.

“alright, dearie. I’ll move your room. But later. Right now, you still need rest. I’m not taking a risk with your safety. I don’t know how much it will affect you, and you need to be at full strength before I move it.” His voice is soft and tender, and Remus squeals excitedly, rocking back and forth with Logan on his lap.

“We can be temporary roomies! I know you probably think I’m a slob, but everything is just as organized as your room! Can’t be storing the spleens with the livers, that just doesn’t work. And, how would I ever tell the blood bags apart if I didn’t sort them properly? I mean, sure, I can taste test, but that’s just a waste of resources if I need to do it every time. And sometimes the positives and negatives are so hard to tell apart, such a nuanced taste.” Remus is surprised as Logan laughs, leaning back against him, looking up at him with teary, happy eyes, a small smile on his lips.

“I wouldn’t mind that. It does sound like you have some rather fascinating experiments going on. I would love to help you compile your data and take notes. I have a feeling you are more interested in the action than the results.” Remus squeals higher, at a practically inaudible level of joy.

“HE WANTS TO HELP! DEE, HE DOESN’T THINK I’M GROSS!” Deceit rolls his eyes.

“So I gathered. I get the feeling you’re going to have a lot of work on your hands, Logan.” He teases gently, Logan’s small smile easing the worry in his chest, untying some of the knots there. He can tell Logan is going to be ok, eventually, now. Remus already adored him, had always loved Logan for never shying away from his thoughts or words, answering all his lewd questions honesty and with thought. Remus would fight tooth and nail to make sure Logan never doubts his worth, never feels unloved. Remus knows well enough how that feels to not wish it on anyone else.

And he understood Logan, himself. He understood doing hard work and being unappreciated, unwanted, unneeded. He knew how hard it was to bottle that all up, to keep going despite it, to get up day after day when you had no one who cared.

But they do. And Logan is here now. And Deceit will make sure he is happy and loved and needed and wanted and knows it, no matter what. No matter what Logan does or doesn’t become. He can imagine, what it will be. But he won’t worry now, not when Logan is smiling and happy and snuggling back against his chest, Remus snuggling tight on his other side. He embraces his two boys, gently wiping the tears away from Logan’s face, the side already starting to drift back to sleep, Remus clinging to him, petting his hair as head slumps against Dee’s shoulder.

“Poor baby, still exhausted. He really needs to eat something, next time he wakes. God knows when the last time he actually slept was.” Deceit murmured, continuing to stroke Logan’s cheek, sensing how badly he needed the contact.

“He’s coming off it. I think he just needs to sleep off the last of it, and he’ll be alright. He’s already better, Dee. So much better.” Remus answers, and he knows that Remus isn’t just talking about Logan’s illness.

“Yes. And we will make sure it only continues to get better from here.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #logan angst #deceit sanders #remus sanders #emotional hurt/comfort #sickfic #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #protective dark sides #angst with a happy ending #pre dark side logan

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