#marigold wc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

66stitches · 3 months ago

Text

Marigold (II)

𑁍 best friend!abby x reader

𑁍 Summary: Abby loved you in a way she believed you could never reciprocate. Per her friend's advice, she began to avoid you in hopes of healing her aching heart.

𑁍 CW: sfw, angst, a little bit of fluff, unrequited love, happy ending yippe, jealousy, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, reader neither described as masc nor fem, no physical description of reader besides that she is able-bodied, fighting, swearing, violence, ellie mention, a lot of crying, pet names.

𑁍 WC: 4.4k

𑁍 Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

𑁍 divider creds

𑁍 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

You buried your cold hands deep within the pockets of your maroon-colored jacket in an attempt to ward off the biting cold, each breath you took formed a slight cloud in the crisp air.

"Don't you think it's a little cold for ice cream?" You spoke, looking over at your friend walking alongside you.

"Maybe you'd enjoy it more if you actually got a good flavour."

You and Ellie wandered through the familiar town, your thoughts running as you dragged your feet across the pavement beneath you.

You tried to focus your thoughts on anything besides Abby: the cold breeze of winter stinging your nose, your coffee-flavored ice cream that, according to Ellie, tasted like burnt shit, the fallen leaves and the sound they would make when you'd step on them.

But she always managed to find her way back into your thoughts, contaminating your brain with the presence of her memories. The memories that once brought you joy were now nothing but painful.

Your steps came to a halt as you stopped by the town's bar. Wooden panels adorned with colorful string lights and a paper that read "winter dance" stapled on the entrance.

"Oh, I almost forgot about the dance tonight," Ellie spoke as she finished the last bite of her ice cream. She tossed it in a nearby bin. "You're going, right?"

The town hosted dances and gatherings quite often. It was never really your thing, but it was Abby's, being the social butterfly she is. She always dragged you along, and you were happy to follow.

But Abby was no longer with you, and now you had no reason to go.

"No, I don't think so," you replied. "Are you?"

"Yes, I am, and so are you." She said it as if you had no choice in the matter, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Come on, don't just say no because of Abby. This is the perfect opportunity to get your mind off her," she sighed dramatically. "It's also the perfect opportunity for me to show off my dance moves."

You sighed, and though you were not yet convinced, you allowed yourself to consider it. "I don't know, Ellie.”

"Please? If not for yourself, then go for me. You're not really gonna let me go to this thing alone, are you?" she pleaded.

"Stop that. You know guilt trip always works on me."

She grinned. "I know."

"Alright," you said as you threw your hands up in defeat. "I'll go."

Ellie was right, you needed this. It was unfair for you to miserably lay heartbroken when God knows Abby was probably already out having fun, relieved to be rid of you at last. It wasn't fair for Ellie either who came a long way to see you.

𑁍

Nora slipped on her last layer of clothes and started combing back her dark hair.

"You're awfully quiet," she spoke, looking over at the blonde resided beside her, currently styling her hair into her signature braid.

Abby offered no response for a moment, simply going back to her task.

"Uh, you okay?" Nora asked.

"I'm fine, Nora," Abby replied, speaking without a glance at her friend's way. It was clear that she was lying, Nora could see that. Abby had been evidently troubled for weeks, her distressful demeanor was something no soul could miss.

Nora sighed as she placed her hairbrush down. "No, you're not. Tell me what's going on with you," she asked, though she knew she didn't need to. She knew it was you who's causing her this sorrow. In truth, that had always been the case, even long before you two had stopped talking.

"I don't know, I'm just a little worried about her, I guess," she said. Merely talking of you was most difficult for her. She had been trying to avoid the topic of you for quite some time now, always shutting her friends down when they tried to ask what happened between you and her.

"You don't have to worry about her, Abs. She's got that redhead friend of hers to keep her company." Nora tried her best to be comforting.

Abby almost had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes at the mention of Ellie. Of course she had noticed the two of you spending time together quite often, and as happy as she was that you had someone to keep you company, she couldn't help the seeping feeling of jealousy that contaminated her to the core at the first sight of you two.

“Please, don’t talk about Ellie,” she practically groaned, not doing much to conceal her obvious jealousy which earned her a slight grin from Nora.

“Jealous, much?” Nora asked.

That’s when Abby really rolled her eyes. ��Nobody said that, Nora,” she said, albeit she knew she didn’t exactly give much room to conclude otherwise.

Abby didn’t want to admit truly how jealous she was of the red-headed girl and how badly your falling out had affected her.

She no longer wept, though she always felt as if she was on the verge of doing so. She tried to distract herself with the gym, but what once brought her happiness and contentment now felt like a chore. She didn’t need a distraction, she needed you.

She envied Ellie: she envied the way she got to hold you without that awful feeling of sheer guilt in the pit of her stomach; without that nagging voice in her head telling her what a disgusting person she is.

She envied the healthy relationship Ellie had with you, how comfortable she was in sharing affection without feeling as though she was fulfilling some perverse fantasy.

She was constantly plagued by the urge to go back to you, always having to remind herself of what a horrible idea that would be, as well as Nora’s persistent lectures which stopped her from doing something so foolish.

She was happy that you had someone to keep you company and comfort you, but she still couldn’t help the way she felt about Ellie. Her jealousy eating away at her every time she saw you together, doing things you once did with her, and she felt endlessly guilty for being jealous.

“Do you think she’s going? You know, to the party?” Nora inquired.

Abby considered it. She was unsure whether she wanted you there or not.

The sight of you would dim her mood, that she knew for certain, but she missed being in the same room as you.

“Probably not. T’was never really her scene.” She sounded different whenever she would speak about you. Her tone would change significantly. She sounded softer. Sadder.

Nora considered her next words for a moment before speaking. “Do you want her there?” She asked.

Abby zoned out for a moment, contemplating.

“I don’t know.”

𑁍

You stood beneath the cold wind staring at the town’s bar. You could hear everyone inside. Dancing, talking, yelling, singing along to the music. You took a deep breath and walked in, your eyes immediately scanning for Ellie.

You found the redhead standing by the bar with two drinks in hand. She met your eyes from across the room and gave you a smile as you walked up to her.

“So you came.” She handed you a drink.

“Yeah,” you responded as you fiddled with the bottle. “You were right, I’ve got to stop moping. This is good for me.”

Ellie tilted her head and smiled. “See? Told you. I’m always right.”

Moments passed, and you mostly followed Ellie around like a lost puppy while she socialized and met some new people.

That’s something you always envied about her: how she can make friends so easily and how confidently she carried herself most times.

You two then sat at the bar, allowing yourself to rest a little as you indulged yourself in conversation.

A conversation you were no longer paying attention to, Ellie’s voice slowly beginning to sound faded as your eyes were locked on someone else across the room.

And that certain someone was watching you right back. Deep blue eyes locked onto yours, keeping you connected from the other side of the room. Her brows were furrowed. She looked pained, tired, and yet still as beautiful as ever.

You didn’t think you would ever be in the same room as Abby again, but there she was, in all her glory.

She wore a tight green shirt that hugged her strong figure in all the right ways, along with some faded brown pants that accentuated her thighs.

“Stop looking at her.”

Abby was first to break eye contact, snapping you out of the trance that were her eyes. You averted your gaze from Abby and back to Ellie.

“Again, I am so sorry. I seriously didn’t know she’d be here,” Ellie apologized for what seemed like the millionth time.

“It’s fine, Ellie”, you reassured her, but you both knew it wasn’t fine at all. You sought a fun night to distract you from the ache in your heart that was Abby, only to have her come and bring that ache with her.

You were unsure whether you were surprised to see her here or not. You knew that she enjoyed these parties, but you assumed she wouldn’t be attending this time after what had happened. Perhaps you should have known better.

“There she goes staring at you again,” Ellie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s just get out of here.”

“Way ahead of you.” You were already throwing the remainder of your drink and getting ready to leave. Ellie followed shortly after, but not without bidding her new friends goodbye.

You stood in the sidelines waiting for her as she moved all around the room.

You then found yourself praying to whatever god there is up there to allow the ground to open up and swallow you (or Ellie) whole, because with all of her careless wandering, she mistakenly bumped into Abby, nearly spilling the last of her drink on her. Nearly. That part you were grateful for.

“Oh shit, man, my bad,” Ellie chuckled. She did not sound the least bit apologetic. In fact, she only sounded proud of herself. You wondered if it had even been accidental at all.

Abby recognized Ellie immediately, of course she did. She was not only looking at you the whole time, but as well as glaring holes into the back of Ellie’s skull.

“Oh please, don’t pretend like that wasn’t deliberate,” Abby said harshly. Ellie grinned mockingly, glad that she managed to get such a reaction from the blonde.

“Aw, what’s making you so hostile, Abby? Makes it seem like you’ve got a personal grudge against me.” Ellie just kept pushing Abby’s buttons, speaking in the most condescending tone she could muster. If there was one thing Ellie was good at, it was riling people up.

You practically sprinted to them, grabbing Ellie’s hand and gesturing for her to leave.

You met Abby’s eyes once again, but this time was different, because now you stood close enough to really look at her again; close enough to get another hint of her intoxicating smell.

Once again, she broke eye contact.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think someone’s a little jealous,” Ellie pushed again, trying to get another reaction from Abby. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You’re jealous that she’s got me now.” Ellie grinned again, enjoying the sight of Abby’s scowling face.

“Ellie!” You yelled. You were getting upset as well as embarrassed. Whatever Abby was mad at you for, she was definitely never forgiving you now. You pushed Ellie’s arm away and tried to grab her and leave once again. You were ignored.

“Jealous?” Abby scoffed, she was the one grinning now. “You’re just a replacement. You realize that, right? If it weren’t for me leaving her, she wouldn’t even spare your desperate ass a glance.”

You were left aghast at Abby’s words, Ellie clearly was too. She tried to hide it, but it was clear Abby’s words had hurt her.

You opened your mouth to defend Ellie. You loved Abby, that would never change, but you would not stand for anyone talking to Ellie like that and speaking lies about you. But Ellie interrupted you before you had the chance.

“Yeah? ‘Least I never fuckin’ ghosted her or made her feel like shit the way you did; at least she’s happy with me. So yeah, got your girl now, bitch,” Ellie retorted, looking evidently proud of herself for that last sentence. Clearly she still found this fun.

Abby’s clearly had enough of childish banter. One thing about her is that she was never afraid to get violent.

She took a step forward and shoved Ellie, nearly knocking her off her balance. You were ready to interfere, until Ellie shoved Abby right back with the same amount of zeal.

Everyone’s attention was on them now, not including those who were black out drunk. The entirety of the bar went quiet, staring at the two women in excitement. As if you thought this couldn’t get any more humiliating.

“You both are fucking childish,” you yelled and tried to get in between them.

Quite the dumb move on your end. The punch Abby threw was meant for Ellie, but with your careless action of stepping in, you were the one taking the hit, your head snapping back.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Abby to hastily grab your face, softly cradling it between her hands.

“Fuck, marigold, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you,” she spoke quickly. The tone in her voice was scared and replete with concern. It was evident on her face.

She seemed surprised by her own actions as well. She didn’t think nor intend to hold you like that. When it came to her, protecting you almost felt like a natural instinct.

The feeling of her hands on your skin and her face so close to yours nearly made you forget the aching pain on your cheek.

You snapped out of it swiftly and pushed her hands away from you, sending her back.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” was all you said. It was bitter, laced with venom. Abby looked hurt, but mostly ashamed of herself. She didn’t speak.

“Now can we just leave already?” You groaned and turned to Ellie.

“Yeah…” she breathed, still glaring holes at Abby.

You grabbed Ellie’s arm and finally left. It took everything in you not to look back at Abby. You wished you didn’t care about her so much.

You were now back at your house, examining the swollen area on your cheek which you knew would soon be a shade of purple.

You spent most of your time in your head, replaying that incident continuously.

What you truly could not manage to get out of your head was how Abby had reacted when she’d accidentally hit you. That name she called you: you were certain you would never hear her utter that word again.

You were both confused and comforted by the gesture, but you tried not to dwell on it.

“God, she’s even worse than you described. What a bitch.” Ellie had been ranting and moaning about Abby for what felt like all night.

You tried to tune her out, not wanting to think about Abby so much. Is this what Ellie felt with you?

“You should’ve let me fight her. I mean, she’s big as shit, but I could definitely take her on.” She took a moment to observe herself in the mirror. “Definitely,” she repeated.

“Ow!” You flinched as you poked your swollen skin. That got Ellie to stop her ranting and come to your aid.

“You okay?” Ellie held your jaw and observed your cheek.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” you trailed off. “You started that fight on purpose, didn’t you?”

Ellie raised her brows at your question and smiled slightly. “Nah. Trust me, if it was deliberate, I would’ve spilled my drink on her. This was just a happy accident, as Bob Ross once said.”

“Yeah, well your happy accident got me a punch to the face, but I’m glad you found it fun.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from the mirror.

“Actually, you jumping in between us is why you got punched. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted you guys to stop.”

Ellie frowned and crossed her arms, an expression of remorse scrawled upon her features. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. She’s just… she’s so fucking confusing, Ellie,” you said and buried your face in your hands.

“I know,” Ellie empathized. She wasn’t the best at comforting, always getting awkward in serious situations. But what she offered was her ear, and that was all you needed.

“I mean, what the hell was that? Did you see how she grabbed me? What she called me? Why does she think she can just do that after everything?” You were trying to remain calm, which wasn’t easy with Ellie staring at you so sympathetically. “Why does she still act like I mean something to her?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you do,” Ellie suggested, placing her hand on your back and offering you some much needed physical comfort.

It really did not make any sense, Abby’s actions only managing to confuse you more. Could she really have cared about you? Was there still something there, or did she merely feel guilty for hurting you?

Now what you had planned to uplift your mood and ease your sorrow had been ruined by Abby’s presence. It seemed as though she haunted you everywhere, bringing nothing but ache and destruction alongside.

𑁍

Abby felt weak.

She had tried to avoid you, as she usually did, but the memories of what had occurred the other night played endlessly in her mind, fueling her with guilt.

She’d tried to make herself stop caring, convincing herself that you meant nothing to her and that what had happened the night prior did not affect her, but to no avail.

She cared about you, and that would never change. She could avoid looking at your face as much as she wanted, but your image was forever seared into her mind.

Today was a particularly gruesome one. You did not bother to hide the bruise that formed, and Abby didn’t fail to notice.

She had tried to walk up to you and apologize, each time cowardice and shame taking a hold of her and turning her back around.

The idea of speaking to you again after everything intimidated her, which was quite unusual for someone like Abby. She never anticipated a time would come where she would be apprehensive about facing you.

Unfortunately for her, you did not lack discernment. You noticed her reluctance in making her way to you; noticed the way she was internally battling herself.

You stood outside, bidding Ellie goodbye as she left to go back home.

When Ellie was finally gone, Abby walked up to you again, and you hoped for what seemed like the hundredth time that this time she would not turn back around. You didn’t know whether you planned to forgive her or not, but you still wanted her to speak to you.

When she noticed you looking at her as she made her way to you, she stopped at a halt and turned back around.

Her actions and timidity were beginning to frustrate you, but right as you were about to speak up, she turned around once again and walked towards you, this time faster, as if she wanted to get it over with before her apprehension got a hold of her once more.

“Hey,” she spoke, her voice laced with discomfort.

The gleam in her eyes changed as she got another look at your bruised cheek, feeling infinitely more guilty.

You didn’t reply and simply waited for her to get to her point. You wanted it to seem like it was because you were mad at her (and you were), but in truth you were at a loss for words.

Because she was here. She was speaking to you; she was looking at you. It took everything in you not to break down into tears at that seemingly insignificant act.

“So…” she trailed off, eyes scanning everywhere timidly. “I just wanted to say that I am so, so sorry. For hitting you, I mean. I swear, I meant to hit Ellie but you got in the way— not that I’m saying it’s your fault, because it wasn’t—” she was rambling now, her nerves getting the best of her. If you were any less hurt, you would laugh and call her cute.

“What the hell do you want, Abby?” You interrupted aggressively, which earned you a look of both shame and bewilderment.

“To… apologize?” She said it more like a question. She was slightly rendered uneasy by your anger, but she did not blame you in the slightest nor was she surprised. It only made the guilt grow into something more unbearable.

“Apologize, huh? Don’t you think you have other things to apologize for? You think this—“ you pointed at your bruised cheek, “is what hurt me?”

Abby took another look at your cheek. She didn’t reply. She looked down and crossed her arms, hugging her sides. Your eyes followed her hands and noticed the way she dug her nails into the skin of her hips, her knuckles slightly turning white.

You remembered all the times where you would scold her for that bad habit of hers, asking her why she’s so nervous and having her brush you off and ask you not to fret.

“Just let me-“

“No, Abigail. I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear you right now,” you interrupted. “You said you never wanted to see me again, so why don’t you just stick to your word?” Your heart broke into a few more pieces at the mention of that night, remembering all the things she had said and that distant tone in her voice. Her heart broke as well, remembering how cruel she was and the painful look on your face.

“Why do you have to be so damn confusing? Why are you contradicting yourself by saying you never want to see me again, only to keep looking at me with those fucking eyes, starting childish fights, calling me marigold, and now you wanna try to talk to me and expect forgiveness?” You were yelling at this point, letting everything spill out with no control or filter.

And Abby was quiet, understanding. She was listening. Her knuckles were turning whiter with every word you spoke, her eyes slightly glistening.

“You left me without a word. You never tried to talk to me about what happened, maybe we could have fixed it!”

“You wouldn’t-”

“No!” You interrupted again, not wanting to hear her voice and only spilling what has been bottled up inside you. “Don’t speak and let me finish! You didn’t talk to me, Abby. Do you have any comprehension of how terrible I felt? Did you enjoy knowing that I spent nights wondering how the hell I was supposed to fix what you destroyed?”

“I-”

“I’m not done! What made you think that you could just walk up to me and-”

“Stop!” She was the one to interrupt you this time. “I love you,” she said before she could think. It was said quietly, softly, and this time she was looking you in the eye.

That definitely shut you up. You stood there, gawking. You were trying to form words, but none came to mind. Your head was empty, but your heart was heavy, filled with emotions you couldn’t quite place.

Abby was clearly getting anxious by your lack of response, so she spoke again.

“I don’t know if you’ll accept my reasoning for what I did, but that’s it, and I’m sorry. I did it because I loved you. Because I love you.” Her voice was shaking slightly. She was afraid. It was painfully obvious.

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?” You stuttered, dumbfounded. Of all the possibilities you considered that might have been the cause of what happened, this was something that would have never crossed your mind. Not in a million years.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She laughed, though her voice held no humor in it, laden only with pain. “I didn’t wanna lose you. I was afraid I’d ruin what we have,” she said, digging her nails even deeper into her skin. “But now I already did.”

The last part was quiet, spoken slightly above a whisper. She no longer met your eyes, detaching herself from you almost completely. She was sure this was the last time you would ever speak to her again. This is where you would let her go.

It undoubtedly hurt and scared her to reveal herself to you; to finally speak the words that were sure to cause you to let her go, but she didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

She would face her feelings and allow you to leave because of it. The words you had just screamed at her did not fall on deaf ears and she would no longer leave you ignorant to the truth and pained from the untold.

You offered no response. Endless words and confessions played in your head, but none left your mouth. You felt frozen, but you also wanted to know what else she had to say.

Abby’s apprehension only grew at your silence. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I knew you wouldn’t take this so kindly but I just needed to get it off my chest and I am so, so sorry. I understand if you don’t wanna talk-”

Her profuse rambling was interrupted by your lips on hers. Your mouth didn’t move, only feeling the soft plush of her lips against your own.

The kiss ended as quickly as it came. Her eyes were wide and she was left gawking. “So that’s how I get you to shut up,” you joked.

“Fuck, come here,” she breathed. She grabbed your face and swiftly pulled it to hers, meeting your lips in another, more passionate kiss.

You pulled her in further by the collar of her shirt. You were so close that you could feel your hearts beating against each other. You could not imagine anything more intimate.

Her lips were slightly chapped, yet still soft and plush, and she tasted beautifully. It was as if the heavens had descended from the skies and given you a taste of its richest, most forbidden fruit.

You forced yourself to separate your lips so you could catch your breath. You pulled away and met her face, her eyes heavy and mouth slightly agape. She looked beautiful like this, all blissed out. The sun kissing her face reflected the gleam in her eyes like light beams in the sky. You smiled at the scene.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

“I love you, my marigold.”

𑁍

a/n: this took so fucking long I don’t even know if people are interested in reading it anymore but here it is

Taglist

@grey-jedi12

299 notes · View notes

sepherinaspoppies · 11 months ago

Text

Only If For A Night

ꕥ series masterlist & taglist ⋆. 𐙚 ˚masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3

⟢summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

⟢pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

⟢warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !

⟢wc: 4,027

Chapter 1: Where Fiction Becomes A Reality

She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)

She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)

Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)

She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)

Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.

She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)

George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.

Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible.

‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’

“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico.

It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.

“Umm… I- I’m sorry?”

The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful.

“The bus–”

She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude.

She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.

“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her.

“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her.

A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.

“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear.

The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting.

“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin.

“Yes, almost like I've lived through it”

She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid.

The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.”

Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news)

“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?”

She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!

But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away.

“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.

“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist.

Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance.

She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision.

Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.

From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection.

She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)

“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together.

“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile.

The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.

In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies.

In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run.

She ignored it, again.

“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)

She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit.

She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.

Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze.

“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen.

She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore.

She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family.

A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood.

She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have.

Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys)

Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair.

Silver.

Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?”

Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.

Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth.

Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight.

“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.”

Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.”

She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.

Not now. Not ever.

She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so.

“I don’t—”

“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye.

She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.

“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.

She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist.

“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.”

Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…

There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down.

She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.”

Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her.

Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)

Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.

The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)

Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)

It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…

But not to Alyssandra.

Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp.

However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic.

“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.

All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully.

Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic.

“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out.

She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.

But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative.

“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe.

She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic.

Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand.

Blood. Her blood.

Run!

“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face.

“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor.

“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…”

She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there.

Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)

“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.”

She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.”

There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned.

Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.”

Fuck.

“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?”

Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one.

She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass)

“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.”

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche

series taglist: @castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @itsabby15 @diannnnsss @fan-goddess @zenka69 @a-beaverhausen @gabee-arts @bluebirdbts @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @absurduty @delulumhaggy @liannafae @aaaaaamond @ilikechocolatemilkh @bellaisasleep @ammo23 @alphard-hydraes-blog

if you'd like to be tagged on my general taglist click here

if you want to be tagged on this series comment here!

#prince aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen

614 notes · View notes

hatsukeii · 3 months ago

Note

heyyy could I get an extra sweet latte? Btw Iwaizumi from Haikyuu REALLY caught my eye^^

hey! not sure which sweetener you wanted, so i picked one out for you, it should go well with your latte! order up!

feeling like a drink yourself? order one here!

golden / iwaizumi hajime x reader

ingredient(s): fluff!! so much fluff!!! domestic iwa strikes again<3 established relationship, timeskip!

disclaimer(s): nothing! gn reader too, so so so safe:)

wc: ~0.7k

drink profile: lazy mornings, soft touches, sunlight through the blinds

Golden skin, golden daylight, golden mornings. At around 6am, Iwaizumi Hajime stirs awake to the songs of morning robins. One begins with a singular note, before four, seven, twenty more join in a choir of chirps. Something shifts against his front, ever so warm, ever so sluggish. Eyes half-lidded, his hands find solace in twisted cotton around his fingers, and the fabric seems to respond with another push against his chest, this time accompanied by a strained hum.

"Did they wake you?"

"You did, Haji."

You are a light sleeper, in every sense of the word. Iwaizumi knows the jolts in your slumber, and the hitches in your breath that always come right after, has seen the way your nose twitches on early mornings, when the bed shifts and he gets up for work, has learned to stay still as undisturbed waters in sleep. Now, he feels bad, but not too bad, not when you're shuffling and turning towards his front, burying your head into his chest. Golden ribbons of light weave through the gaps in his translucent blinds, painting decorations into your messied hair, then spilling onto your skin, as if the daylight cannot bear to contain itself to just one area of your being.

"...m'sorry, didn't mean to wake you too."

When you smile into his chest, Iwaizumi feels it against his shirt like the first breath of morning air, when the dew has barely settled in, and the smells of the night linger in traces of cold. His hands crawl beneath the cotton of your shirt, fingers eager to trace over every inch of your figure, painted in a halo of marigold by the rising sun. He relishes in the way the skin of your waist glides across his palm, and you’re close, fuck, you’re so, so close. He can only find it in himself to dread the notion that this will, eventually, end.

"Mmm...it's okay."

Stretching the hem of your shirt, he pushes the fabric down your bicep, and presses his lips into your shoulder. Your skin smells of his sheets as he peppers kisses along your skin, up, and up, and up. Along your neck, your jaw, over the shell of your ear, anywhere the sunglow finds itself settling on. The shiver that elicits from your body when his lips brush against the fleshy lobe of your ear makes Iwaizumi aware of your hands, that hold the back of his head, fingers running through his spiky hair. He hums into your temple when he reaches it, and you sink further into his chest in response.

"Wanna sleep like this? Can you breathe?"

"Mhm...it's good."

His chest tenses, bubbles of contentment sinking from Iwaizumi's throat to his heart. Retracting a hand from beneath your shirt, he swipes your messied hair from your eyes, before cupping your jaw with his palm, drawing circles into your cheek with his thumb. The white walls of Iwaizumi's room are painted vermillion by the dawn, a momentary sanctuary that holds his world in a stagnant embrace as sunlight crawls above the horizon in beams of pink and gold, and the air fills with the warmth of day. You hook your arms around his waist, pushing his shirt up just enough to expose his bare skin. Your face is pressed against his shirt, hidden in his chest as soft snores occupy the millimeters between your bodies, and Iwaizumi realises that you have, once again, fallen asleep.

The daylight begins to change as the sun pushes itself into the sky, his golden sanctuary returning to its usual white walls. The song of robins continues again outside, but this time, it is distant enough to be ignored by your sleeping figure. His tired eyes watch your chest rise and fall, and you are the last bit of gold that remains within Iwaizumi's grasp, contained in the palms of his hands, and the cover of his blanket over your body. Iwaizumi thinks he'll hold it like this forever, through the golden mornings, and silver nights too.

barista's note:

short n sweet one for today! i wasn't sure what prompt you wanted with it so i just went and picked one that i was vibing with LOLOL i didn't stretch it out because i intended for this to be an in the moment type of thing and just wanted to craft it until i was happy with how it looks in my head. not that much interaction because sleepy mornings = no dialogue = no action unless morning sex which is not! what i was going for BUT i hope you enjoy your drink anyways!!

tags: @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @catsoupki @hiraethwa @bakery-anon @fiannee @bailey-reeds @kongkhoi @wyrcan @laughingfcx @kuroppiii

ok store is closing shop for tonight it's like! very late love u all see u soon bye bye

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi imagine #haikyuu au #hq timeskip #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#hajime iwaizumi

198 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 5 months ago

Text

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.9k | warnings: blood, gore

Summary: in the immediate moments following Beron’s death, Eris is determined to see to the needs of his court. His mate insists he takes a few moments to himself and bathe.

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series. The events of this fic follow in the immediate aftermath of ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Author’s note: happy day 3 of @erisweekofficial !!

The sun had set, but just barely so. Your chest thrummed with the mating bond, but it felt different somehow, as if the new power radiating off of him leached into you.

The dawn of a new court.

You could feel that heaviness settling over your mate. The expectations, the guilt, the reservations. You didn’t know if the news had spread yet - to the outskirts of Autumn, to the other courts, to Rhysand. How did Rhys feel, now that Beron was dead? Did it change anything?

Eris looked different now. Exhausted, yes, but not the way you had come to know. As if the world had finally rolled off his shoulders to become someone else’s problem. He was radiating so much heat it was nearly impossible to stand too close to him.

Marigold and her sons had taken Flint’s body, moving him down into the cellars so they could clean and prepare his body for mourning. Eris had been upset that you had refused to allow him to go with them, using your body as a shield anytime you thought he might turn around and run.

“Er, you have to change. You have to be less bloody.”

Eris was unfazed at your words, annoyance in his chest at not seeing Flint’s body any longer. He’d get over it eventually.

You led him through the halls of the Forest House - once an immaculate display of wealth, not a speck of dirt or dust to be seen, now was a state of chaos. Broken chairs, overturned shelves, ransacked armoires. It was chaos incarnate - which made the site of Eris’s chambers even more startling.

They were pristine, the ward still effective at repelling anyone from entrance. It felt too clean. Everything had changed since this morning when Eris’s neurotic movements woke you. The only disturbance in the room was the unmade bed from when you had gotten up, as if the occupant had just gone about their day to day life.

Prythian has changed, your life has changed. But this room stayed the same in spite of it. Something about the room sobered Eris up, pulling him from his trance, as if the walls echoed with an itinerary.

“There is so much to do - advisors to speak with, we must send word that Beron has fallen-”

Your hand on his forearm gave him pause. “You may take a bath, High Lord.”

His mind quiets at the title - you were the first to officially call him by it.

High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Not merely a dream anymore. He had never played with the words before, never practiced how they felt on his tongue. It felt too much like a jinx, a childish superstition he couldn’t seem to shake. The name coming from your lips felt incredible, but it didn’t make him swell with pride the way the word ‘mate’ does.

“Sit, Er.”

Your hand pressed against his chest, right where an etching of a leaf adorned the armor. He sat on the edge of the chair, his muscles tensing and then immediately relaxing as they found the first sign of rest in hours. Eris felt unsteady in the chair, as if the furniture couldn’t hold the weight of all that he had done.

You knelt before him, quietly removing each plate, undoing each tie and gently laying the copper colored armor down beside you. He sighed at the relief, unaware or unfeeling of how tight each plate had been on his skin, the leather straps leaving indents in his skin.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, peeling each section of armor off as if it were glass fused to his skin. Each piece removed allowed for parts of him now visible, despite the layers of clothes, to be met by your fingers. You spent several minutes on each of his limbs, your fingers making slow, deep movements into the skin, as if you could reach to the bone and heal him.

He groaned at the ministrations, his body growing weary and aging as you sat before him. This night alone aged him a century it seemed. Despite his desires to rest, his body was buzzing with energy. It felt nearly impossible to sit still, as if every piece of his body were being removed and replaced with a newer, better version.

You slowly removed his gambeson - a deep green fabric that cushioned his chest from any harsh blows to his armor. You reached for the hem of the tunic beneath, pulling it over his head as he raised his arms. His skin was untouched beneath it, not a single bruise littering his pale chest. Removing the garb made his skin even warmer - you were practically sweating being near to him.

Your fingers moved lightly down his chest, making a jagged line tracing from mole to freckles as you slid down his torso toward his pants - you slowly pulled them down his legs, watching his face for any reaction. Once the pants reached his ankles, you tapped each ankle so he’d lift his feet, allowing you to move the pants away.

The armor did an incredible job at protecting his body - the only part of him that showed any hint of what happened today were his hands and his face. Maybe the new powers thrumming through him saw to his injuries.

You moved toward the bathroom, turning on the faucet for the tub before returning to your mate. He hadn’t moved, staying completely still, undeterred by his naked state.

“Eris, you need to take a bath.”

His head turned to you, a lethargic movement that offered no grace you had come to associate with Eris. You reached out a hand for him, hissing at the contact of his skin, but not letting go. You led him to the bath, which had filled in the slowness of his movements.

The bath was dark, the entire room devoid of light, Eris’s powers too drained to light it. No matchsticks laid anywhere in the Forest House - why would they? The bathtub was a dark pool of water, inviting the new High Lord as you led Eris into the water, stabilizing his arms as he put his legs in before sitting down. The water was cold, a shock to his nerves that had him suck in a breath through his teeth.

The cold sank into Eris’s bones, as if this bath was a renewal. He let himself slip beneath the water, everything so dark he finally felt free to let through the scream that had been building in his lungs. Becoming High Lord rewrote his entire body, every cell within him changed, but it was this bath that felt like the birth.

A liminal space. He was stuck in the in-between. Beneath the surface of the water, he was still in the before. Some part of him knew once he came back up, everything would be different.

His blood was boiling inside him, unsure how his organs weren’t being roasted from within. His scream echoed through the tub, emitting so much heat he was surprised he wasn’t on fire at this point. He was sure the water was boiling, the pain in his body almost too much to bear.

Until he came up for air. The second his head hit the surface, the screaming stopped. The pain stopped. He was glowing in that dark room, a deep blue color blinding in the darkness.

Blue flames burn the hottest.

Eris turned to find you moving about the bathing chamber, his entire existential crisis unnoticed by you. You were silent as you moved about the bathing chamber, grabbing all the necessary products and towels before returning. You checked the water, pulling your hand away quickly at how hot it was.

He watched as you quietly drained the water, allowing the first coat of grime and heat to be washed away down the drain before refilling the tub, your mate staying still the entire time.

With the tub refilled, you grabbed a cloth and gently began working it across his skin, inspecting him as you moved. His skin began growing cooler, the water and rags you used to clean him grounding him.

He was Autumn’s new High Lord, but he was still Eris, still your mate.

You hummed as you worked, a song the trees had been singing earlier that night. He smiled as his accompanying hum startled you, filling in the gaps of the song where your harmony laid.

He felt reborn, a lightness surging through him as if the Mother herself were giving him new life.

Before you could drain his second bath, before the two of you had to face the consequences of the past twelve hours, he shot his hand out, circling your wrist. There were a million things to consider - a coronation, official statements, word to the other courts, the family all being on the same page about what to say publicly. It would all wait.

“Thank you.”

A gentle smile was all he got in return, as well as a sharp tug on the bond between them. A million questions circled his mind, only realizing as you brought him back into his chambers that you were wearing a servant’s uniform.

What had the day brought you? Or, Eris corrects, what had you brought to this day? His beautiful mate, his equal in every way. Two sly foxes, except you never wanted the predatory title to be attached to you, always preferring to be false prey.

Gods help the fools who underestimate the two of you.

He searched through his wardrobe, finding exactly what he wanted: a bloodred jacket, the collar raised made his jaw look like a knife.

Now was not the time to appear too soft. The most turbulent time in a High Lord’s position is the first few weeks, and while he ached to just come out and say he intends to be different, he couldn’t in good conscious risk the people of Autumn like that. He intended to prove that he was different.

But to do that, he has to first appear strong.

He found a white shirt, quickly throwing it on before hopping into a pair of dark brown trousers, tucking the shirt in. He didn’t have time for a corset, opting for a red vest with gold embroidery instead.

After lacing his boots, he sat up in the chair ready to go, but your fingers in his hair stopped him. He felt you put the crown atop his head - he hadn’t even realized you had pulled it off - the thing practically sinking back into Eris’s skin, happy to be reunited with its master.

Eris stood up, the crown and regalia reminding him of who he was. It was like Eris had been underwater the whole day, stuck in a trance, only now coming up for air, the question slipping from him without his intention.

“Why are you in servant’s clothes?”

“I will tell you all about it once you return.”

The new powers coursing through his veins reinvigorated him, while you felt yourself crashing with each passing moment.

He nodded, knowing full well whenever he returned you’d likely be asleep, tucked away in his bed chambers. The thought pulled a smile from him as he bent down, placing a kiss on your lips.

It was soft and sweet, full of a promise he knew he could make: I’ll be back.

Millions and millions of small decisions had brought him here, to a life he never thought possible. He stood on the precipice of his future, looking out over the edge, no idea of what was to come. With his first step from his chambers, he walked off, trusting for once that everything had a way of working out.

One cannot appreciate Heaven without having lived through Hell.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears 🫶🏻

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader

219 notes · View notes

mochinomnoms · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii! For the Hanahaki event can I request Vil (romantic) with prompt #7? A gender neutral reader would be appreciated, thanks!!

Also if youre up for it maybe prompt #12 with Ace (Platonic) with the reader’s object of affection still being Vil? This prompt with Ace is too funny for me to ignore I just HAVE to sneak him in 😭😭

vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, humor, semi enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, sickenly sweet [wc} – 3,458 prompt 7: “I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” prompt 12: "No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!” note - writing this was surprisingly hard. but i got it and i think it's very cute, i just hope Vil is mostly in character :skull: also i don't know german so idk if the nickname is an accurate translation! comments loved and appreciated! a floral inconvenience

Marigold: often used during festivals like Diwali and Navratri, marigolds symbolize purity, auspiciousness, and the divine.

You were going to murder him.

“Heyyyyyy Prefect!” Ace gave you a cheeky grin as he held your glass bottle of very expensive salicylic acid serum, balancing it precariously between his fingers. “What about this? Can I take this—whoops!”

“ACE!”

You shrieked as the bottle slipped from his fingers, only to be caught by his other hand, an infuriating grin still on his hand.

“Hehe, relax! I’m just messing around—oh shit!” The bottle slipped again from his fingers as a now panicked Ace scrambled to capture it. “Oop. Got it. It’s fine.”

“Oh my gooooooooood, Ace, I’m going to fucking kill you, give that back!” You snatched the bottle from his hands, giving him a good kick behind the knees as you walked past him.

“Owwwww, Prefect, why are you so mean to me?” Ace pouted as you put your serum back on your desk with the rest of the skincare Vil had gifted everyone at the start of the SDC training. Ace continued whining as he packed his bags to go back to Heartslabyul, being left behind by Deuce who went to get snacks from Sam’s with Epel.

He felt bad that all the food you had was cursed by Vil at the beginning.

“It’s almost like you want me out of your dorm, kinda rude, you know.”

“You know what’s rude?” You smacked down the pillow Ace threw your way as you huffed, “Your face. Ugly ass, you know you had a room next door, how’d all your stuff end up in my room?”

Ace shrugged as he shoved his wrapped up sweater into the now bulky backpack he’d brought over, throwing himself onto your bed and grunting as he bounced on the squeaky frame.

“I don’t know, how’d you burn the Queen of Hearts’s statue—”

“That was you—”

“—the world will never know.”

You rolled you eyes as you laid on your stomach next to him, hugging a spare pillow to your face. Closing your eyes, you sighed as the events of the last few weeks replayed in your head. Between acting as manager for the SDC group, to barely keeping up with classes, to Vil’s overblot, you were utterly exhausted. Speaking of Vil…

“Ah, that’s right, I should check on Vil before he leaves. I wonder if he’s doing okay?”

“With you at his beck and call? Perfectly fine, I guarantee you.” Ace yelped as you smacked his side, giving him a red-faced glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ace turned on his side with a teasing smirk. The kind of smirk he gave you whenever he wanted to fluster and embarrass you in front of your friends and teachers.

“It means whatever you want it to mean. Maybe someone should consider not acting like a little kid with a crush whenever they’re around Vil—owowowowowow—stop hitting me!”

You pounded your fists onto Ace’s sides and back as he tried to roll away from your reach, arms cradling his head in meek protection. He managed to roll off the bed, turning over to look at you briefly to stick his tongue out and politely flip you off. Ace let out a small shriek as you launched off the bed after him, running out of the room into the hall and turning into a goosechase. You could practically hear the yakety sax song playing in your head as the two of you pushed past Jamil and Kalim, the former crying out at you in annoyance.

“Watch it!”

Ace practically threw himself down the stairs, jumping past four whole steps, using the banister to whip him around into the main hallway where he ran into the living room. Finally catching up to him, Ace positioned the coffee table between you two as he continued egging you on.

“Ayeeeeeee, embarrassed Prefect? Gonna throw a fit?” Ace let out a low cackle as you both shifted around the table.

“Gonna throw your ass into the fucking sun, little bitch ass! You got something to say then fucking say it!”

Ace snorted as he pointed behind you. “You’re one to talk, you wanna talk about the marigolds coming from behind you? It’s like you’re growing a garden out of your ass, wanna talk about that?”

“The fuck? I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. The hell you’re talking about,” You turned your head to look behind you, still growling at him now with confusion. “Why would you even ask that—WHAT THE FUCK!?”

You hissed as you jumped backwards into the table, the edges jamming into your skin. Behind you had been a long trail of beautiful, shimmering orange flowers. Upon closer inspection, you were pretty sure they were marigolds.

“...Ace, this is your fault.”

“What! Nuh-uh, I’m not the only with flower sickness—”

“The fuck is flower sickness?”

“You know, hanahaki? The love disease? How do you not know what flower sickness is, it’s like basic 8th grade bio—”

“I didn’t go to school here, dumbass!”

Ace’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ shape as he remembered. “Oooooh yeah, I forgot.”

“Forgot what? You little potatoes are acting awfully rowdy so early in the morning.”

You looked up to see Vil standing in the hallway, a bemused Rook behind him inspecting the flowers on the ground. Vil briefly made eye contact with you, both of your sharing a small smile before an irritating, itchy feeling made its way in your throat.

You felt a hand pack your back as you started roughly coughing up several bunches of marigolds into your hands as Ace grimaced.

“I forgot that they’re not from here, so they got no clue about hanahaki…or any other illness…huh it’s kinda a miracle they haven’t gotten sick from something else yet.” Ace hummed, as he leaned down to look at your face.

You made eye contact with your peripheral vision, motioning Ace to lean closer into you and horasely whispered, “Come… closer…”

Confused, Ace obliged, ear up to your lips, giving you the perfect opportunity to sock him straight in the gut. Your dear, beloved friend gagged from the pressure, hands cradling his stomach as he fell to his knees, groaning in pain.

“Y/N…” Vil sighed in exasperation, walking over to give you a gentle flick in your forehead as he chastised you.

“It’s unbecoming of a friend of mine to be so belligerent, do you really have to be so crass with all your friends?”

You clicked your tongue, licking the spit from your lips. “I’m not with you, besides Ace deserves it, you know how he is.”

“Mm-hmm, and how long have you been coughing out the flowers, meine Süße?”

A pleasant warmth flooded your cheeks at the nickname. You choose to ignore the tickling sensation of marigolds growing from the tops of your head, which instead formed into sneezing fits.

“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” He remarked, leaning down to observe the blooms. “Now, answer my question, meine Süße.”

“Achooo! Ugh,” You sniffled as you replied, “Um, not that long—achoo!—ago, ugh. Just today—”

“Ah! The little trickster started expelling the belles fleurs approximately a month and a half ago!” Rook chirped, a little too happily for your tastes. “Two weeks after we began training for the SDC.”

Vil let out another sigh as you whipped your head to glare at Rook, hissing out, “What. The. Fuck.”

“Excuse me?! Language Y/N!” Vil barked at you, making you flinch and burst into another coughing fit. Noticing this, he softened his voice, though the blonde still sounded angry.

“That’s nearly two months with the flower sickness, have you been taking potions to help with the symptoms?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat. “Ahem, no, uh. I didn’t know that there was medicine for this kinda thing, haaaaa I just figured I was being pranked by someone.”

You heard a snort behind you as Ace stood back up, grumbling, “Of course you would, dumbass.”

“I will actually kill you—”

“You will actually not.” Vil placed a gentle hand on your upper back, guiding you to the front door. “Rook, ensure everyone packs up and cleans their mess by the time we get back, I believe Kalim may still need help packing up.”

“Oui! How kind of you Vil to escort our lovely Trickster to get them a remedy for their affliction!”

Rolling your eyes, you let Vil guide you out of the dorm, calling out to Ace, “Don’t forget to grab the rest of your stuff, it’s still in my room!”

“Okayyy!”

With that, the door shut behind you two as you began a pleasant walk over to what you assumed would be Sam’s shop. A pregnant silence fell over you two as you walked down the pathway leading to main street, having to maneuver past the alchemy building and botanical gardens. You were hyper conscious about his hand that remained on your back, which is when you started another coughing fit.

“Oh you poor dear, did you really have no clue what was going on all this time?” Vil spoke to you in that soft tone that he’d been reserving for you since you first became friends, a few months ago. You’d gone into the Film Research Club interested in working as a stagehand, plus you had a good working knowledge costume design and general clothes repair, which was sorely needed.

It’d been an incredibly rocky acquaintanceship at first, as Vil made subtle, snide remarks on your disheveled appearance, while you shot back with loud, brass comments on his ‘Regina George wannabe’ act. Now, he didn’t know who Regina George was back then, but took offense that a ‘dirty, lumpy potato would have the audacity to insult him’.

He only kept you on in the club because no one ever willingly signed up for backstage work, and you only requested free access to spare cloth and sewing materials to fix your clothes. Vil was also more than happy to point out how scruffy the patches all over your uniforms made you look:

“You certainly fix the part of the ramshackle Prefect, now don’t you?”

Though, looking back on it now, you’re pretty sure he wasn’t aware that everything of yours was either found in Ramshackle’s attic or bought with the meager allowance Crowley gave you. Shortly before finals, Vil found you crying in an isolated part of backstage because another first-year permanently bleached your only jacket during a botched potions class.

“What’s going on back here, practice your scenes upfront with the rest of us, I don’t care how ugly you look crying—Prefect?”

You jumped, scrambling to get back up from the dusty corner you’d shoved yourself into. You awkwardly wiped the tears from your face, wrapping your arms around yourself as you gave Vil a feeble glare.

“What do you want Vil, I already told the others that their costumes wouldn’t be ready yet, if you want me to get stuff done, you gotta stop annoying me—”

“You’ve been crying.” His simple statement shut you up, as he approached you with a firm look on his face.

“…Yeah, stating the obvious much?” you muttered back, finding the scuff marks on the ground very interesting. Vil let out a sigh, reaching into his jacket to take out an off-white, embroidered handkerchief.

“I’m trying to be sympathetic. Ugh, you’re all red and puffy, let me see.” Vil tipped your chin up with his fingertips, gently patting at the tear streaks on your cheeks. “You look worse than normal…is the red bleach stain on your uniform meant to be a fashion statement?”

Pausing at the stuttering breath you took, sniffling, you answered, “No, some dumba—”

“Language”

“—Some jerk,” you drawled, “from my last class messed up his potion, and it got all over me. Stained my only jacket, right when it starts snowing, too.”

Vil raised a brow at you, leaning back once he was satisfied with your dried cheek.

“Only one? Even Ruggie has a few spare uniform jackets from Leona, did you seriously not think ahead to purchase a spare?”

You half-laughed, half-scoffed at his statement.

“You think Crowley gives me enough money to buy another jacket for his bougie ass—I mean, fancy, school? I barely have enough to feed myself and Grim between the roof caving in and the water pipes breaking. The bathroom flooded again last week.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you felt a migraine coming in, unaware of Vil’s growing horror.

“I was lucky enough to find my uniform in the attic, it waaay too big and makes me look homeless, but at least it keeps me warm…now it just looks even more like shit.”

You finally looked up at the blonde, expecting him to lecture you on your foul language. Instead, you were surprised to see Vil’s horrified expression.

“What do you mean, you barely have enough for food?”

It was then that you discovered that no one outside your group of friends were really aware that you were stuck on campus, victim to Crowley’s whims and needs. You know the others in Heartslabyul were faintly aware of your predicament, being from another world and stuck until Crowley found you a way home. Ace and Deuce did their best to help repair things around the dorm, but could only do so much. Savanaclaw and Octavinelle knew of the disarray of your dorm, but based on comments from Leona and Floyd, weren’t aware of just how much you were struggling just to eat and sleep.

Ruggie definitely was, seeing as he occasionally slipped you a spare meat bun or snack that he happened to buy extra of when running errands for Leona. Ruggie was a real one, as long as you didn’t point it out.

Since that day, Vil had sort of taken you under his wing, along with Epel who you hadn’t met yet at the time. You had to give him credit, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be in your head. And Vil admitted, he enjoyed that you were quick on your feet and enjoyed your banter, as long as it was unique to him.

He spared you his previous uniforms that he’d grown out of his freshman and sophomore year, minus the band and vest, watching as you mended the waist and ends to fix your stature. More often than not, especially after hearing that you’d be stuck by yourself during winter break, Vil was sending you care packages with personal hygiene products from brand deals he never took. He’d send fabrics and sewing supplies with sewing patterns. Vil even started buying you breakfast and lunch once back to school, though you refrained from joining him for dinner in Pomefiore.

In exchange, you managed to replicate, with his help, some of the scripts for the more famous musicals from your world. You even told him who Regina George was! He still wasn't fond of the comparison, but did find the musical intriguing. Vil was fascinated by the works of art your world produced, and just slightly enamored in the way you described them with glee and fondness. Still, the exchanges still felt a bit uneven.

You’d once made the joke that he was practically a sugar daddy, just without the sugar. He snapped back, “Well, I’m not stopping you, now am I? I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but you’re more than welcome to give me thanks, meine Süße.”

(You spent that night screaming into your pillow with a red-hot blush while Grim looked on with concern.)

Truly, you two had developed an unlikely friendship, one where you both spoke your minds to the other with no hesitation or fear. Which is why the lack of conversation at the moment was slowly driving you insane.

You sneaked a peek at Vil, taking a sharp breath as your eyes met his own. It seemed that he was watching you with his very lovely, sharp purple eyes. The thought sent a hot flash through you as you sneezed a flurry of petals and pollen.

“Ooof, ugh, this is gonna make my allergies go haywire.”

“Sam will have some potions that will help with the symptoms, though you will have to confront the root of the cause.” Vil slid his hand down to rest in your mid-back, rubbing his thumb against you in a soothing motion, though it cause you to shiver and flush.

“Yeah, okay.” you managed to squeak out, groaning as you felt the tickle of glowing marigolds pop up on your skin and in your hair. “Ummmm, so how do you get rid of, uh, Ace called it hanahaki?”

Vil nodded and opened his mouth to speak before being interrupted by the faint screaming of your name. Both of you looked down the path, where you saw Deuce running over to you two, followed by a confused Epel chasing after him.

“PREFECT! PREFECTPREFECTPREFECTPREFECT—”

Yelping as Deuce skidded to a half and grabbed you by your arms, shaking you with intense concern, you managed to reply a stuttered, “W-w-what?”

Deuce paused his shaking to give you a concerned lecture, “You didn’t tell us you had the flower sickness!? Why didn’t you say something, you’ve been running around for SDC all this time—”

“You too—”

“But I’m not sick!” Deuce dug through the paperbag you’d just notice he was holding and shoved a pale pink potion in your hands. “Here! Take this!”

Before you could even touch the bottle, Vil plucked it from a confused Deuce’s hands, studying it with scrutiny.

“Hmm…This is an average allergy relief potion for hay fever, did you actually ask Sam for a hanahaki symptom relief potion, or did you just grab the first thing you saw off the shelf?”

Deuce visibly deflated, opening his mouth to sheepishly reply before Epel interrupted him with a harsh, “I told him to ask, but he got all riled up and started yammerin’—I mean, uh, talking about getting the Prefect help immediately.”

Vil sighed, handing Deuce the potion back and shooed the two away with a wave of his hand.

“Just go back, I’ll handle it, just make sure your messes are all cleaned up before we get back.”

The two replied, “Yes sir!” and continued on their path, waving goodbye to you. Though you could hear Epel mumble to Deuce, “Those are marigolds, right? I think Vil’s favorite flowers are those, you don’t think…”

You slowed down to ponder Epel’s words, remembering what Ace initially called the illness.

“Vil…Ace called it a love sickness…would these flowers related toooo, I don’t know, a hypothetical crush somehow?”

Vil briefly opened his mouth, closing it as he hesitated to speak. You think you could make out a soft blush on his cheeks.

“Yes. Your hypothetical crush must favor marigolds. Can’t say I blame him, I’m fond of them myself…”

The two of you made eye contact, a knowing look in his eye and tone making your heart skip a beat and you look down in embarrassment.

“Oh…I see…” You coughed awkwardly, a few petals flying from your mouth. “So you said there was a way to get to the root cause?”

Vil hummed, stopping at the entrance of Sam’s shop to turn to you with an unreadable expression.

“Yes, as an illness based on love, appropriately the cure is to confess your feelings to the one you’ve found yourself fancying.”

A cold flash went through your body as your stomach dropped. Again. “Oh.” The thought of confessing to Vil made you sick, like you could puke at a drop of a coin at any moment.

“I wish you’d mentioned something sooner, I could’ve helped you…ease into it.” Vil murmured, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. He squished your cheek with a fond look in his eye.

“I know it’s a daunting task…I won’t rush you into it.” Vil moved his hand to brush your hair away, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “When you’re ready to say something, just let me know.”

Leaning back, VIl covered his mouth to hide his amused smirk. Your face was a blazing red as the marigolds grew a trail down your neck and chest. He motioned for you to follow him into the shop, holding the door open as he held a hand out to you. At the moment, you’re having a hard time imagining why he’d only ever been typecast in villain roles, he looked more like an enchanting love interest catered for you specifically.

“For now, I’ll be by your side. I will wait for you, meine Süße.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil shoenheit #twst vil #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #a floral inconvenience #nnbrk

464 notes · View notes

hoe4hotchner · 3 days ago

Note

Another idea I have for Hades Hotch & Persephone Reader also has them blending in with humans with Hotch still being the Unit Chief and Reader being a botanist, but this time the rest of the BAU team are also Greek Gods.

Hotch and reader are the only ones who remember being gods, and like to discuss the others and whether they'll remember being gods too, and poke fun at the different relationships the team has compared to their old lives.

The gods I have in mind for each member are:

Reid — Athena

Morgan — Ares

JJ — Hera

Rossi — Zeus

Penelope — Hermes or Aphrodite

Emily — Artemis

You can change them if you think another Greek god fits them

Imposters | [A.H]

Pairing: Hades!Hotch x Persephone!reader | WC: 1.0k | CW: loss and longing, exile and punishment, kind of existential undertones, melancholic tone.

A/N: I changed Reid to Apollo based on a moodboard series that @h0tchnr made a few years ago.

The first time you and Aaron sat down for coffee after another day at the Quantico headquarters, it had been beneath a planter overflowing with marigolds and ivy. The symbolism wasn’t lost on you—bright blooms and creeping vines thriving in the shadow of the lord of the underworld. It was almost poetic, if not a little on the nose.

Mortals might have called it fate, but you knew better. Fate, as the Fates themselves would tell you, was rarely so subtle.

You cradled your mug in your hands, the warmth soothing against your skin, but your mind drifted. The gods may have been scattered, their power diminished, but remnants of their true selves clung stubbornly to their human forms. You saw it in the flash of Penelope’s dazzling smile, in Emily’s ferocity, in the way Derek strode into a room as if it were a battlefield waiting to be won.

“Do you think Morgan’s figured it out yet?” you asked, tearing your gaze from the window, where Derek and Penelope laughed together like soldiers who’d just won a great victory.

Aaron’s dark eyes followed yours, his expression as still and unreadable as the River Styx—oh, how you missed accompanying Charon on his boat occasionally. “Ares?” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “Not likely. He’s too busy trying to win over Aphrodite to notice why he’s so drawn to conflict.”

You couldn’t suppress a grin. “She’s entirely too charming for her own good. Then again, Aphrodite always was.”

“Charm has always been her weapon of choice,” Aaron replied, his voice low, almost reverent.

Your laughter filled the space between you, light and melodic. For a moment, it felt like you were back in another life, in another world. One where your throne was surrounded by endless fields of flowers, and his by the shadowed expanse of his realm. But this was the mortal world, where you were no longer Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, and he was no longer Hades, its ruler.

Still, you both remembered.

“She’s not the only one,” you mused, your gaze shifting to Spencer, who was absorbed in a book across the room. “Reid might piece it together eventually. Apollo’s curiosity will get the better of him. It always does.” Aaron chuckled quietly, a rare sound that felt like it was meant only for you. “Apollo always fancied himself all-knowing, but even he can be blind to the obvious. He’s human now, just like the rest of them.”

That was the cruelest truth of it all. The others didn’t remember. They lived their mortal lives, echoing their divine personalities, oblivious to the power and grandeur they once held. And you and Aaron? You sat in silence, watching it all unfold.

Your eyes drifted to Emily, standing apart from the others with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp and watchful. Artemis, goddess of the hunt, protector of maidens, and champion of independence. She carried herself with the same fierce grace she always had, though she was unaware of it now.

“Do you ever think we should tell them?” you asked softly, your words barely audible.

Aaron didn’t answer right away. Instead, he watched the others, his gaze lingering on Rossi—Zeus himself, laughing boisterously as though his thunder still rumbled—and JJ, her poised demeanor a quiet testament to her role as Hera.

“And what would that change?” he asked at last, his voice steady but tinged with the gravity of someone who had borne the weight of a throne. Who knew the issues it would cause. “We were exiled for a reason.”

You nodded, though the ache in your chest remained. Whatever crime led to the gods’ fall, it was severe enough to shatter Olympus and scatter its rulers among mortals. Now you lived among them, stripped of your divine power, haunted by memories of what once was.

Still, in the chaos of this second life, you’d found each other. As always. Aaron’s hand brushed against yours, his touch grounding you. “We have each other. That’s enough,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of an oath made long ago.

“For now,” you replied, your smile bittersweet.

But as you watched the others, their mortal facades wearing thin under the weight of their forgotten divinity, you couldn’t help but wonder: How much longer would they remain in the dark? And when they finally remembered, would the mortal world survive the return of the gods and their wrath?

The next time it happened, it was late afternoon. The sun hung low in the sky, casting shadows over the city streets. You and Aaron had taken a detour from your usual route home, walking past the row of shops where the scent of fresh bread mingled with the distant scent of fresh-cut grass.

Then you saw it—just for a split second, a dog running across the sidewalk, its movements eerily familiar. The way it barked and wagged its tail, the way its fur shone in the golden light. You froze.

Aaron noticed your stillness immediately, his eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

You blinked, but the image of that dog remained—its three heads swirling in your mind like a forgotten dream. Cerberus, once your companion, now reduced to this—an ordinary canine in a world where gods had no power.

Your heart sank. “Do you think we’ll ever find him?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling ever so slightly.

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he followed your gaze, the intensity of his thoughts mirrored in his eyes. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your jacket. “I’m working on it,” he said, his voice steady despite the sadness in his gaze. “But a three-headed dog turned into a single-headed one is not so easy to track down. Especially when he doesn’t even know he’s ours anymore.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest spreading. “He was always so loyal. To you. To us.” Cerberus had always been more than just a guardian. He had been a symbol of your connection to the Underworld—loyal, protective, and steadfast. He had been your first real friend when you had arrived in the underworld. And now, like everything else, he was lost.

“We’ll find him,” Aaron promised, his voice carrying the weight of the oaths he’d made. “We always do.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded again. Maybe the gods had been cast down, but you and Aaron—Persephone and Hades—would never stop searching for the ones you’d lost.

110 notes · View notes

daengtokki · 3 months ago

Text

part seven // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 13.6k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: seungmin's worst memory. death & murder. domestic/child abuse. medical settings, medication usage, hallucinations, & shared delusions. more murder. fluff...& sex.

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: I reached 600 followers a few days ago, so thank you guys for liking my stuff enough to deal with me ♡

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST ]

TAGLIST: @kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The rain stopped sometime during the night, but it pelted against the roof and windows, and it kept him awake for hours. Usually, the steady sound lulls him to sleep, but last night was different—there was nothing relaxing about that downpour. He does remember waking after his first time dozing off, though, and it was eerily silent with the sound of the rain suddenly gone. But he knows he heard something...it, right outside his window, walking around on the wet, muddy ground.

The first thing he does in the morning is run to his window to open the curtains and let the sun in. The second thing he does is look at the ground in front of the bushes. Deer tracks, he thinks. He’s not good with the local fauna, but he knows they aren’t human footprints. Seungmin doesn't know what lives in those woods, and he doesn’t go in anymore to find out.

Seungmin-ah!

“I’m up, I’m coming!” He quickly rifles through his drawer and pulls out a change of clothes. “I’m coming!” Just as he starts toward the door, he turns and heads back to his bed to throw the covers back up, fluff up his pillow, and grab Daengmo.

“Come get some breakfast”

The door creaks as he pulls it halfway shut, and he bolts down the long hallway toward the kitchen, slipping a little in his socks. Seungmin stops abruptly when he hears the door to his left swing open, and his stomach drops.

“Slow down”

He doesn’t want to look up at him, but he has to, so he gets it over with quickly. “I’m sorry…a—“ he stops himself. Even after so much time has passed, calling him appa is still a reflex. He’s the only father Seungmin can remember. “I’m sorry.” But stepfather doesn’t like it coming from Seungmin’s mouth anymore.

“Breakfast isn’t going anywhere, and neither is your mother.” He passes by him, but not before ripping Daengmo from under his arm, “aren’t you too old for this yet?” Daengmo stares blankly at him, and he stares back with a grimace. Seungmin heart starts to race just as the dog is dropped at his feet. “Should have left this stupid thing out there instead.”

Because he would have never found his way home.

“There you are, my sleepy puppy”

“The rain kept me up, umma”

She sets a bowl of seaweed soup in front of Seungmin, and then another bowl full of rice. “I scrambled some eggs, too, if you’re hungry enough.” Her hand runs down the side of his head to try and flatten out his bed hair.

“Yes, please,” he smiles at her when she returns with a plate.

“And some of the strawberries we picked up yesterday.”

“Did you already eat?”

“I did. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go replant some more flowers.”

The greenhouse is hot and humid, but he likes it. He loves the warm months when the plants and flowers come to life, and he loves fall, when the chrysanthemums bloom, and the asters and the marigolds hang on a little longer. It’s always bright and pretty in here, at least until winter creeps in and scares almost everything away.

“Come here, love…hold this for me”

Seungmin drops to his knees and holds the big mound of dirt in his hands. “What are these?”

“Japanese iris”

“And those?”

“Camellia”

A crash from outside grabs his attention, and he almost drops his iris bud before the pot is ready.

“Hey puppy, look at me…don’t worry about him”

“I’m not”

She looks at him, a smile on her face, but eyes full of worry. Seungmin worries all the time, and she knows that. He worries more than any nine year old ever should, and all she wishes for is a chance to take him somewhere far away and never look back. No more worry, and no more fear. “It’s just us, okay? Me and you.”

“Yeah, just us”

The rain starts again, first a slow drop here and there, and gradually, it turns into a downpour. Again, he hears a crash, and even over the deafening sound of rain, he hears his stepfather screaming at nothing in his shed.

“The rain will ruin his day, but not ours”

“Are we planting more of those?” He points to the bright purple flowers in the corner.

“Do you like those? They’re my favorite.”

“They smell nice”

“They do, but they don’t like this weather. Heliotrope needs lots of sun and a little less rain.”

Seungmin pouts.

“That doesn’t mean we won’t try”

The ultrasound room is freezing, and the blanket they put over you is pulled all the way up to your chin. It’s not helping, though. Seungmin slides his jacket off and sets it on top, and his warmth still trapped inside finally helps you stop shivering.

“What’s taking them so long?” He grumbles.

You shrug—this is only your second time in a Korean hospital, but you’re kind of used to waiting when you go to an emergency room, or a doctor’s appointment. The two of you decided the drive back home the next morning instead of revisiting the hospital in Daegu, mostly because Seungmin was eager to get you back to the bed you’ve gotten used to, and back to where he could access the contents of his bank account. Uljin can wait another week or two, he said. Time to resettle and clean up any messes left behind. And you know he also wanted to find a doctor close to home as soon as possible.

“It hasn’t been that long, it’s okay”

“Long enough. And it’s too cold in here. Maybe we can look for another doctor.”

“Let’s at least meet her first. It seems nice here."

The apartment looked fine, but it was easy to tell things were moved around. Everything was just slightly off.

“I can’t believe the missing piece of rug wasn’t suspicious.” You look hard at the spot where the kill from that night bled out. There’s no reason to think this was cut because of anything more than a bad spill.

“Yeah, and the spot where the girl fell.” Seungmin stands there and looks at the bare floor. “I’m really glad you didn’t pull that knife out.”

“I used to watch a lot of crime dramas. I still do, just Korean ones."

“That’s how you knew how to stab?”

“I also watched a lot of Dateline”

He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“True crime”

“Oh, that’s me…true crime. Well, that’s us now.”

“Us? That’s romantic.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and an older woman, the ultrasound tech, walks in and greets both of you.

“Mother speaks only English? I can speak English.”

“Thank you.” You slide Seungmin’s jacket off and hand it back to him.

“It should be warmer soon, we turned the heat up”

You’re nervous, but you know that Seungmin is even more nervous. From the corner of your eye, you see him hugging his jacket tight as the woman guides your legs up and open, carefully drapes another blankets across your knees, and adjusts the machine on your right.

“I thought you got the little wand on your stomach,” he says, and his eyes move back and forth between you and your wide open legs.

The woman answers first. “Not this one. This gives us a better look, because it’s still early.”

“Oh”. Seungmin watches her every move as she preps, but eventually finds your hands and squeezes it. “Are you warmer?”

You nod, but now all of your attention is on her and the wand in her hand. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you ready? Take a nice deep breath, and relax."

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

More rain, Seungmin thinks as he pushes himself deeper under his blanket. The slow pings start against his window, and he watches as it beats against the glass, harder and harder. The rain never bothered him much before, and it’s not really the rain that’s making sleep so difficult. The problem is what seems to be right outside of his window when the rain comes. Seungmin can’t see it, he doesn’t think…he feels it. Sometimes he thinks he sees the outline of something moving just beyond the bushes, and sometimes he thinks he sees the reflection of glowing eyes.

If he mentioned it to umma, and he might, she would probably tell him it’s just a deer. She would say pull the curtains closed, puppy…if it eases your mind. And that’s just what he does. After a few seconds of working up the courage, he jumps from under his cover and runs to the window, pulls the curtains closed, and then runs and jumps back into his warm bed.

“Better,” he whispers to himself, and just as he closes his eyes, the shatter of glass sends him back up. He sits and stares at his door and waits for another sound.

“You don’t listen!”

Stepfather is screaming, and that’s nothing new. The soft voice of his mother trickles in as she tells him to please keep his voice down, please don’t wake Seungmin.

“He doesn’t listen, either. He can hear this, too. I thought I got rid of these!”

Got rid of what? Seungmin thinks.

“He picked them out at the bookstore yesterday. He’s doing so well…he’s so smart.”

“Is he? I don’t see it.”

“He’s a good boy”

“Give them to me, all of them. And whatever else you spent my money on.”

Seungmin feels tears welling in his eyes, and he tries with everything he has to hold them back. He tries with everything he has to stay put and not run out there and stop him.

“We only bought groceries, and the books…nothing else”

“Don’t lie to me”

He hears a slap, and his mother makes another quiet sound…and his tears start to fall. “Umma, we’ll leave soon…you and me.”

It’s not as bad as you anticipated, but you still grip the hand he gave you. A few seconds of nothing, and then something appears on the screen. You don’t know what you’re looking at, though, because ultrasound images always confused you. It’s nothing but static, and a big black blob that you at least know is where something is supposed to be.

“Can you see?” She asks, and looks at you, and then she looks at Seungmin. “There…on the bottom left. I would say seven weeks, almost eight.” She moves the wand again, and you squeeze his hand a little harder. “Oh…just a moment. I’m sorry, dear.”

“What is it?” Seungmin moves closer, pushes his glasses up, and squints. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, either.

The woman pushes a button on the machine, and you hear the strange, whooshing sound come through. You know what it is, just not from personal experience—a wild heartbeat. And the sound of an actual heart beating makes everything feel very real, very quickly.

She smiles at you with a little hesitancy, and then points at a new spot on the right side of the screen. “Number two is right here. And the first one is…here.”

“Two?"

“Dul?”

“Yes,” she nods, “ye…dul. You have twins, illanseong ssangdung-i.”

“Identical?” Seungmin stares, and he starts to crush your fingers until you shake him loose. “Sorry.”

“How do you know they’re identical? Are you sure there are two?”

“I’m sure, I have seen many many twins on here. We can check again at your next visit, and also let you know sex…if you want to know, in another four or five weeks.”

After hearing the second round of unexpected news, you get into bed and sleep for hours. It's the first time in a while you can remember having a completely dreamless sleep, but it doesn't seem the time for that. Right now, your head should be too full to stop.

The sun is mostly set when you finally make yourself get up, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen pulls you back out. You know

“Are you making dinner?”

“Hi, yes…did you sleep well?”

“I did. It smells so good in here.”

He lights up and grabs three bowls from the cupboard, “does it, really? I haven’t tried making kimchi jjigae in a very long time.” Seungmin fills two bowls with stew, and the third he piles high with rice. “I hope it tastes okay.”

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟗-𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The familiar smell of his favorite stew wafts into his bedroom, and he’s on his way down the hall before his mother even calls for him.

“Come here, give me a hug,” she holds her arms open, and Seungmin hugs her tight around the waist. “You’re getting so tall, you’re not gonna be a little puppy much longer.”

“I can be a tall one,” he looks up and sees the bruise he left on her cheek.

“You’re right, you can…go sit, I’ll bring us both a bowl.”

“Where is he?”

It’s as if Seungmin summons him with his words. A moment later, he’s coming in through the side door, pulling off his wet raincoat, and getting out of his shoes. The worst sound in the world for Seungmin is hearing his stepfather return home. But tonight he doesn’t say a word. He walks through the kitchen and looks around blankly, makes himself a bowl of dinner, and disappears into another room. It’s not unusual for him.

“Good,” she sits down next to him, “just the two of us.”

The rain finally lets up tonight, and he can fall asleep easily—no sounds outside, no footsteps or strange feelings. Silence. And Seungmin sleeps perfectly until he opens his eyes to the clock by his bed…12:10 am. He stares at it until it turns to 12:11, and then 12:12. There are footsteps outside. Loud, muddy, and heavy. But not in front of his window—these are somewhere in the distance, maybe on the far side of the house. At 12:15, he finds enough courage to get up and peek through the slit in his curtain, but all he can see from here is darkness and the reflection of his pale face; the tops of pine trees against a blue-black sky, finally clear. He thinks he sees a shadow run by in the distance, but it’s just his imagination starting to run. It’s in my head, umma said it’s in my head…there’s nothing in the woods.

“Umma?”

He thinks he hears her calling him, but as soon as it’s quiet again, he’s convinced that was also in his mind. Still, he heads for the door and pulls it open just a crack to listen. Nobody is ever up this late except for him when he can’t sleep. A mumble, barely, reaching him through the thick, humid air.

“…you made me do this…”

Seungmin recognizes that voice, even from this far away.

“…I’ll have to do it again…that brat”

It’s impossible to get back into bed now. He needs to know what’s going on. The first thing he does after tiptoeing down the hallway is open their bedroom door, but it’s too dark to see anything. A few more steps in, and he can now tell that the bed is empty, the blankets are a mess.

“Umma…where are you?”

Seungmin heads toward the kitchen and looks around, knocks on the bathroom door. He reaches for his coat…he can hear the rain starting again, and pulls on his boots. The few lights on outside help his eyes just enough, and he catches movement in the shed a few yards away. Why is he in the shed so late at night? Umma wouldn’t be out here with him, Seungmin knows that…where are you? he thinks. He thinks it so loudly, and is body trembles with his unknown fear. Why aren’t you in bed? Why are you outside so late in the rain?

The muddy grass gives way to his boots, and he sinks in as he tries to walk...he slips, and a few times, stops to gather himself before moving again. The ground is more solid as he approaches the shed, and he can tell now that the one light shining out is the oil lamp that lives on the windowsill. It’s so bright coming out through the cracks, and the view looking in is clear. Seungmin’s eye finds the perfect spot to peer in and see what his stepfather is doing…

“Are you in here?” He whispers, unsure, but his voice shakes.

His stepfather looks back, and Seungmin freezes, but his breath comes out shallow and ragged and loud. “Out of bed? Of course you are.” The door swings open, and the hand that grabs his shirt collar is wet with mud, and something else.

“Umma!”

Seungmin is thrown hard against the wall, face first, and hits the floor with so much force, he feels a tooth chip. He sees blood on him, and he tastes what pours from his nose and lip, but he doesn’t care.

“Seungmin…run away from him”

He crawls to her, and stepfathers presence looms just like the creature in the woods, ready to snatch him back at any moment.

“We have to go,” Seungmin whispers and touches her hair, “please we have to go.”

“I love you so much, Seungmin…you have to run, you have to get away from him”

“I can’t leave you here”

“Please run…my sweet boy…”

“Umma I can’t leave you here”

“He’ll kill you, too.”

“We have to go”

“Please remember how much I love you.”

Everything goes black and quiet, and the last thing he sees is her pleading eyes.

But then, the sound of dirt. A shovel, hacking and digging. Seungmin squeezes his fingers just to see if he can, and he fills his fist with dirt and rock. The back of his head throbs, and the warm, itchy sting of blood in his hair and on his neck reminds him of where he is. A gasp for air, a cough, and he almost chokes on it as he turns to his side. Everything is a blur, but he blinks it away and finds something to focus on—a bright blue bucket, and next to it is a small plank of wood, maybe the thing that knocked him out.

The irritated grumbles of his stepfather mix with the shk shk of the shovel as he digs. How could he possibly turn and look at what’s happening behind him? Seungmin can figure out whats going on, and why he’s digging a hole. He can’t come face to face with it. He looks around again, and his eyes land on the assorted tools that have ended up in here over the years: pruners, old rusty garden shears his mother tried to throw out, rolls of chicken wire and razor wire, bags of grass seed and weed killer—things he and umma have no use for in the greenhouse. The hand tiller, though, that he recognizes, and he remembers holding this very tool in his hands several times before.

Sharp and straight on one end, three pointed claws on the other—it’s as long as his arm and it’s not very heavy, but…it’s heavy enough. As quietly and slowly as possible, he crawls the six or seven feet to where it hangs on a protruding nail, and as he wraps his fingers around the wooden handle, he peeks over his shoulder. His stepfathers back is to him, thankfully, hunched over and pushing dirt with his shovel, so Seungmin grips it and rolls himself to face him. Now, if he can stand without falling—without passing out…

You smile and wait for him to open his eyes again. He has his hands clasped tight in front of him, as if he’s praying. Maybe he is praying. A smile grows as he sits there silently, and he laughs at himself when his eyes pop open.

“I’m sorry, should I have joined in?”

“Oh, I was just…talking to myself for a moment. Sending something out.”

“Were you praying?”

“Sort of…no, not exactly”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain”

“This was the last thing she made for me, the last meal we had together.“

The stew looks very different when you look at it now. Seungmin looks different, because the wave of memories washing over him paralyze him for a moment. “Is this her recipe?”

“Yes. I have a few of her recipe cards in the drawer, but I can never make anything quite right.”

“Well, it’s very good, even if it’s not perfect. What was her name?”

“Soo-ji. Suji…or Susie. Her English name was Susie.”

“English name? Oh right, she lived in the states. Did she choose that? Do you have an English name?”

“Yes, she chose Susie. I have one, but I’ve never used it. I’ve never had to.”

“What is it?”

He smiles and drops his gaze to his food. “Sky. I’m not sure why I chose that, but…Sky.”

“I do”

Seungmin looks at you again, eyes wide, “yeah?” And his eyes grow even more as he waits. “Do I look like a sky?”

“You look like a sky. And everything in it.”

“Everything?”

“The sun, and the moon…the clouds, all the stars”

“Are you trying to make me blush?”

“The butterflies…the bees”

He cups his cheeks in his hands and laughs.

“Can’t grow the flowers without you”

A hitch in his breath makes your heart thump, and his hands cover the rest of his face. You can’t tell if it was another laugh, or something else.

“Seungmin?” He doesn’t answer, but you hear a sniffle, and you stand and move to his side of the table. “Hey…what’s the matter?” You’re more confident in your actions now, so grabbing his shoulders and pulling him against you happens without a second thought. “Did I say something?”

“No, sorry…I don’t know what happened”

“Was that too much? I’m too much sometimes.”

“No, please don’t think that”

He squeezes and pushes his face into you, and you feel his tears coming through the fabric of your shirt. Something triggered them, but he’s also long overdue for a lot of good cries. You don’t mind getting some out of him.

“Umma always told me that when we worked together in the greenhouse…I can’t grow the flowers without you, puppy.”

“She was right. My moonflowers seem pretty happy in the window. And...Puppy?”

Seungmin pulls away and sniffs, but he doesn’t look at you yet. He looks at the hanging basket in the kitchen window. It’s still small, but it grew even while it was left here on its own. “She loved giving me nicknames, but I was always puppy."

“Look at me,” you pinch his chin and guide his eyes up to yours. “Yeah, I saw that photo of you when you were seven, I think. You looked like a puppy then, and you still do.”

“What photo?”

“From the boxes in your closet. I found them when I was packing our stuff. I saw some baby photos.”

“Babies…” he whispers to himself. You spoke about it on the way home, and a little before you fell asleep, mostly his concern about you now carrying two instead of one. “What exactly makes them identical?”

The tech didn’t go into detail, and you can’t meet your doctor until Monday, so Seungmin has been left hanging on the finer points of the pregnancy so far.

“Identical twins are one fertilized egg, split in two. Always the same sex, or usually. They share one placenta…that’s why they weren’t separated in there, that's how she knew.”

“So two boys…or two girls. Our fertilized egg split in half? Like yin and yang…sort of. Yin is the moon, and Yang is the sun. Still opposite, not identical, I guess.”

“Like us. You’re the sun…just like what your flowers need, and you seem to have made me the moon.”

“Yeah..." He looks at your flowers again. "Tokki.”

“Sky”

His legs hold him up, and despite his throbbing, blood soaked head, he moves slowly toward the lamp light, the whole in the ground, and the hunched over shape of his stepfather. This is his only chance, and if he misses, or doesn’t do it well enough, that’s it…but it doesn’t matter. Seungmin doesn’t care if he dies, because she’s gone, and there’s nothing left for him. He’d be better off in the ground.

The hesitation as he grips the handle evaporates when he raises the tiller high above his head. One chance. He puts everything he has, every bit of anger and sadness and despair behind the single blow that finds the nape of his stepfathers neck. The sharp straight edge is even sharper than Seungmin thought, and it sinks in deep. The spatter of blood gets everywhere—in his eyes, his mouth, and he somehow yanks it right back out. Some supernatural strength moves through him, because he has to do this. Another swing, this time to his chest as he turns and falls to the ground.

“Y-you…” he sputters and coughs more blood. “…you ba…bast…”

Seungmin wonders if it's the shock, or if he cut something in his neck that finally shut him up. He can’t seem to get his words out. “Bastard?”

The tiller goes up, and then down one more time. And he doesn’t say another word. The shed is silent now, except for the rain, and the drip drip coming through the cracks in the roof. It takes everything he has in him to shift his eyes to the right—to the half filled hole right next to him, and when he finally does, the emptiness that washes over him brings him to his knees. What could possibly describe this? He doesn’t know. Seungmin doesn’t know the words, not in Korean or English. He can’t even cry. What he can do is gently step into the shallow grave and place his hands on her again, and he’s relieved to feel her warmth still, and the softness of her pale skin and hair.

“Umma, can you still hear me?” Seungmin knows she can’t. His mother is gone, and her last words come right back to him. “He’s gone now…he’s gone. He won’t hurt us anymore.”

And she can’t be here, in this shed, in this disgusting hole he made for her. He won’t let her rest here forever—not for another minute. Fortunately he didn’t get far covering her. Seungmin pushes the dirt away as best as he can, but he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough for this. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and hugs her against his chest, pulls again, and rests her limp body against the side as he climbs back out.

Carefully, very carefully, he holds her around the waist, rests her back against him, and lifts until all but her legs are up and out of her would-be grave. No shoes on her feet, and wearing nothing but her nightgown…his stepfather dragged her outside straight from the bed they shared and did this. What filled him with so much rage tonight? Seungmin wonders if it was something he did. But he doesn’t stop to wonder long. The empty grave can only be good for one thing now, so Seungmin pushes, and pushes, and it takes so much more strength than it did to lift her out. One more push, and he falls with a thud, and the tiller goes in with him.

He dug this shallow hole, so he can put it to use.

Now he finally stops to catch his breath, but the humid air is hard to suck into his lungs. He slows down, breaths through his nose, holds it in…lets it go the way his mother taught him when he started to feel overwhelmed and anxious. It doesn’t calm a single nerve in his body tonight, but he at least feels the oxygen move through his blood and into his muscles, and more importantly, into his brain. He finishes this first; shoves the dirt on him, and it feels like hours later when he’s satisfied with the job he’s done. It's not the best, but it's far more than he deserves.

“Now what, umma? I don’t know what to do.”

✦　 ˚ 　 ˖ ✶ ˚　　　✦　　　.　

The greenhouse? he thinks to himself. Did he think it, or did he hear it?

“I can take you to the greenhouse. Would that be alright?”

Yes. Where else but the greenhouse, with the flowers the two of them spent all spring and summer planting and watering and growing? Seungmin reaches for her, and he watches as his hand starts to tremble. It moves up his arm and his shoulders; his chest tightens, and his whole body shivers; his stomach spins, and he turns and crawls away to vomit, but nothing comes out. He dry heaves until his stomach finally settles, but now his head feels like it might explode.

Her nightgown is already covered in dirt, but he refuses to drag her through the mud, so he grabs a blanket from the house to help his trip down the yard. The view almost makes him sick again—the gentle sway of her feet as he pulls. But the wet ground makes it easier, and faster than he expected.

Everything he needs to dig a grave is right here. There’s a plot of loosened dirt right by the heliotrope, because that was tomorrow’s job, and Seungmin looks at it and wonders again…wonders if this is where umma is supposed to rest right now. He starts the long process of shoveling away at the dirt, and he has a feeling this will take him the rest of the night.

“What are you thinking about, Min?”

He jumps when he hears his name, and looks around like he’s forgotten where he is. “Thinking about? Oh, nothing…I just had to shut off for a second.”

“I know something is going on in there. You don’t have to, but you can tell me.”

Seungmin’s face speaks louder than he ever can. He’s still no good at hiding it.

“Just remembering things. I wish my head would listen to me when I ask it to forget.”

“That would be nice, yeah. Maybe I can help take your mind off of it.”

A month flew by while you adjusted, both of you, to the news that two babies, not one, will be brought into this strange home. You spent a great deal of it in bed—tired, nauseated, and a mood that didn’t know whether to go up or down. Usually up and down multiple times in one day, which Seungmin had a difficult time with. He was used to the balance you brought him, and now it’s been taken away by this pregnancy.

But still, he handled it well by the end of the first week or so, and he eventually turned into what you were for him. He cooked, or he ordered the closest he could find to homemade Korean food. Seungmin made sure you took all of your vitamins, and he let you see him take his medication every day again. The four weeks on his haldol is the longest he’s managed to keep up with it, and he thinks he’s finally gotten used to it. Whether or not it’s helping is still up in the air.

“Take my mind off of it? You must be feeling better.”

“I am…but you’re not getting that. My appointments tomorrow, remember?”

“Right. We get to see them again.”

“We get to see if there are actually two in there”

“And if they’re boys or girls”

“Do you wanna know already, if they can tell?”

Seungmin assumed you wanted to know as much as he did, and as soon as possible, “you don’t?” But maybe not. “I guess I do, yeah.”

“It feels so early. So much can still go wrong.”

His eyes drop to your stomach, and he resists the urge to reach out and set his hand there. “Nothing will go wrong, everything will be okay. The first twelve weeks are the hardest, right?”

“You’ve been doing your research”

“There’s a bookstore right by the market I went to this morning. I bought one,” he grabs one of the bags from the counter and digs around inside. “I bought a couple, actually.” He hands you the first one…

“Taegyo.” You flip through it, but it’s small, and in Korean.

“I’ll read that one to you—to the three of you.”

The next one looks like a regular book on pregnancy, the kind you’ve seen a million times before on bookstore and library shelves.

“I read some of that one already.” The last one he pulls out is the biggest.

“Baby names…”

“And their meanings. Am I getting ahead of myself? I am, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. I know you’ve been holding it in, Minnie. You don’t have to keep hiding it.”

“Hiding what?”

“Your excitement. Your joy. If you’re tiptoeing around it because I told you I didn’t want to be pregnant before, I want you to stop.”

Seungmin takes the baby name book and holds it to his chest, and he seems a little lost for words. “Okay…”

“I kind of knew you wanted this from the moment you found out about the first test. And I’ve already read up a little on Taegyo, so don’t hold back…let them know, too.”

He nods, and a smile creeps across his face. The hesitation is still there as he reaches his hand out to you, but he does. Nothing is happening in there yet, but his smile grows even wider as his fingers spread out, and his palm slides up, and then back down across your belly button.

“We’ll find out tomorrow, if they can see on the ultrasound”

“I should start cleaning out the spare bedroom”

“We have a spare bedroom?”

***

Seungmin can’t hide his nerves this time. He paces back and forth in the tiny room, stopping every few laps to look at you and sigh. “Twenty minutes?”

“It’s barely been fifteen. Are you alright, did you get any sleep last night?”

He shakes his head and sits, finally. “Not much. My dreams always feel real, but last night was…scary. I couldn’t get out. I think I had, uhm, I couldn’t move...”

“Sleep paralysis?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had that in a while…at least not that bad. I was stuck, but I could open my eyes, so I saw you sleeping next to me. That helped.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Maybe you should take something tonight.”

A knock on the door interrupts, and it’s the same woman from your first ultrasound. “Good morning,” she smiles sweetly at you, and then to Seungmin, who has kept up the husband act since Daegu.

He took the little silver ring from his music box, the one you can only assume belonged to his mother, and tried it out on you while you were still half asleep. It fit nicely, and even though you told him it seemed too special for you to wear, he said it was just for today, for fun—just to play the part.

So now you spin it absently as you watch her set up her equipment. And Seungmin is nervous again as your shirt is lifted, and the blanket covering your hips is pulled down.

“Are you ready to see your twins?”

The image appears quickly, but takes a moment to look like anything recognizable to either of you. But then it starts making sense…

“There they are, very cozy together”

“Oh, I can see them, they look like…like babies.” Seungmin leans closer and squints, because he forgot his glasses this morning.

“They are giving us a good view,” you say, “it’s doesn’t look creepy like ultrasounds usually do.”

“And I can take a good guess at sex if you’re ready for that”

“Uh, yes but…” Seungmin looks at you, and you shake your head. “Just me. Can you tell just me?”

“Mom isn’t ready? No problem, I’ll write it down for you, and we’ll keep it between us for now.”

She pulls a notepad out and scribbles onto it, rips it out, folds it, and hands it to him. You wait to see if he’ll look now, or later, but he truly can’t wait. He unfolds it, still careful not to let you see her messy hangul, and his face lights up as he stares at it. Seungmin hasn’t mentioned preferring a son or a daughter—sons or daughters—but you imagine his face looking the same regardless of what’s written on that paper. This is something he needed for it to feel real.

The sun hasn’t started rising yet, but somehow, he did what he needed to do. He finished.

The ground here is soft, and it’s fertile—this dirt has overheard some of the most important talks he had with umma, and it’s heard them both sing. This greenhouse, and the flowers inside have known only love and warmth and happiness.

Seungmin stares into her grave, and then to her.

The second blanket he brought with him is set neatly inside, and with what little strength remains in him, he moves her closer. Gently...a little clumsily, he lays her on top of it.

“Sorry umma, I’m so tired,” he sighs, and feels tears running down his dirt covered cheeks.

Now Seungmin takes his time picking a little bit of everything in bloom. An iris that finally opened. Japanese Kerria, goldenbell, mugunghwa, zinnia. The last flower he places with her is two loose bundles of heliotrope. The blanket corners are pulled across her, tucking the flowers in and keeping them safe as he kneels at the edge and thinks.

“The sun will start rising soon, and I don’t know what I’ll do,” he says to her. “What can I do?”

Seungmin waits for an answer, but nothing comes.

“I think I made things worse. Did I?”

“huh...is that you?”

you had to save yourself

“I should have been able to save you”

you couldn’t…you weren’t supposed to…but you’re alive so I am too

“I can’t finish”

this will be the hardest thing you have to do, I promise…just one step at a time

Seungmin stands on shaky legs and grabs the shovel again. One step at a time, he thinks. “Hana…” he starts, and grabs a pile of soft dirt and drops it carefully. “Dul…set…”

aheunnes…aheundaseos

He drops to his knees and pushes the rest with his hands, pats it down, smoothes it out. But he leaves a few spots loose, and the freshly potted heliotrope is pulled out and placed there.

“Please don’t leave me”

I won’t puppy…I’ll always be next to you

The quarter moon still shines on him over the treetops as he makes his way further down the yard. He keeps going—beyond the makeshift trail and into the pine trees, and he walks until his legs can’t carry him any longer. The clearing he comes to looks familiar, but it’s not the same one he was left in—that would take him until sunrise to reach. This one should be fine, though. He finds a spot in the center and sits, and he waits.

“I’ve lived here for almost four months…why didn’t I know you had a second bedroom?”

“I guess you weren’t looking for it.” Seungmin grabs either side of the emptied bookshelf and lifts. “And I closed it up after I moved in to keep myself out.”

“You banned yourself from your spare bedroom?”

He’s quiet as he turns and sets it against the wall, and again, he pulls out a key. Seungmin has at least a dozen different keys for even more locks, but he doesn’t seem to have them organized or marked—he just knows what goes where. This one is the only skeleton key, though. He slides it in, and opens the door with some caution…and it’s not at all what you expect. The room is filled with light coming in through the sheer curtains, and it’s not a mess of unwanted things. It’s a neatly organized room of maybe unwanted things.

“Yes. More memories. Things I took from the old house and couldn’t get rid of. Things that were left to me, things that were already here when I moved in.”

“So you locked them away…”

“I finally have a reason to clean it out, I just don’t know how easy it’ll be”

Boxes and boxes lined up against one wall. A small bed, a desk with a few things scattered on top. There are more books in here, too, and records and cassettes and cds. You think back to the drive home when you opened the center console of the Supra, and it was lined end to end with cassettes. All of these must have belonged to his dad, too.

“Both of them are in here?”

“Mostly dad’s stuff…but yeah, they’re both in here”

“Maybe we can go through it, and you can decide what you want to hold onto. Unless you’d rather do it alone…”

“No, we can do it together”

The first box you go for, the very top one closest to the window, gives off a subtly sweet aroma when you lift the lid. This is very obviously more of his mother’s belongings, and even though he wants you to do this with him, it still feels like an intrusion. But Seungmin probably knows where everything is in here, and when you stop to look at him, he just smiles.

“I can smell it...there’s perfume in there, half of a bottle,” he says.

“It smells nice.” There’s also a wooden comb and a brush, a hand mirror, and a few silk-looking scarves. All very personal, and all create a very close connection to her…but none of it compares to her scent, and you don’t think that’s something he should part with. “You should keep this. The perfume, at least.”

“I should, but I don’t know where I would keep it”

“I can clean up the living room closet, there’s so much space in there. We can make a spot for what you decide to keep.”

“I’ll have to put the suitcases and the plastic somewhere…the other disposal stuff”

“Uhm, we seem to have a lot of things and not many places to put them even though the apartment is big…oh, you have empty apartments!” At least you think he does. He mentioned how many were occupied before, but not how many were actually in the building.

“I do. I have thirteen empty apartments.”

It’s now occurring to you how rarely you see the comings and goings of his tenants, but you don’t leave often, and since coming back home, you’ve gone out even less. You’ve been sleeping any chance you can get. “Any on this floor?”

“Yeah, we’re alone up here. And directly below us is vacant, too.”

You have more space than you could ever need. “That explains why you’re so loud sometimes.”

He gives you his usual nervous laugh and opens another box. Seungmin still gets shy, and you’re starting to think he’ll be that way forever, but he has opened up a little more for the twins. The Taegyo book he gave you came in handy for him, and he’s been doing his best to stay on track with his medication, and to keep his mind somewhere safe. Every night in bed, he lies awake with you and talks to them. He doesn’t say much, because you don’t think he knows what to say.

But you don’t expect him to be perfect, and you don’t want him to be. You never had any intention of changing him, but if he does it on his own, you won’t stop him.

“Not lately,” he laughs again.

“It’s nice knowing we’re alone up here, though.” You walk over to the box he’s digging in, and this one is full of baseball cards, a glove, and a handful of ticket stubs.

“It is. Maybe I should lower the rent and fill those other apartments up. Dad probably never had vacancies.”

“Were you born here? I mean, did you live in this apartment when you were a baby?”

“Yeah, but we were on the third floor until her and I moved away with…him”

It seems like a complicated series of events, but you still don’t want to pry too much. You don’t want to ask why she remarried and moved away, and why they didn’t stay here. But Seungmin tells you anyway.

“She got the property, but he came along, and I assume he charmed and manipulated her, and they got married. She wanted to remarry, I know that much…I guess for my sake. It just happened to be to the worst person imaginable.”

“He moved you away?”

“Yeah, and hoarded all of the money she made from the building. When she died, it became mine, but I was too young. I got everything when I turned eighteen—the hoarded money, the property, and all of my dad’s things that got locked away in that third floor apartment.”

“And you’ve been here ever since”

Seungmin closes his eyes and nods, and when he opens them again, you can feel more trying to claw its way out; more secrets, more burdens, more things he hasn’t had a chance to say out loud. “Yeah, just going through the motions. Trying to get through the days and put them behind me.”

“I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t run into you that morning”

“Somewhere safe and happy, I hope”

“Or if you hadn’t come back to find me, because I had no intention of testing you again even though I really wanted to see you.”

He searches your face as he moves closer to your spot on the floor. “Testing me?”

You’ve made yourself comfortable under the window, knees tucked up and arms pulled into your sweater. This room is much cooler, and the air is probably coming in right above you. “Trying to get you back…and being pushed away again."

“You scared me”

“Me? I scared you?”

“Yes. Everything about you…from the moment you looked up at me and said yes, thank you.”

“Why?”

He sits, rests his head on your shoulder and thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. I knew I had a job to follow through with…” It’s been a while since either of you have reflected on your first meeting, and his intention to kill you. “And I kept thinking about that the whole time you let me keep you company.”

“When you left, I was a little upset because I thought you were gonna try something…but you were good. And then, naturally, I got nervous and ran from our date. Guess it’s a good thing nothing happened either time."

“I’m not sure I ever had any desire to kill you. I kept telling myself I did, but I didn’t do a single thing I typically would to get myself there.“ His hold on you tightens, and you start to feel warm again. “I pushed you away because I was afraid of feeling the way I do now.”

“Are you still afraid?”

“Sometimes. I don’t get to keep things I love for very long.”

“Okay…no foreshadowing, I promise. We’re not going anywhere. You’re going to have three people to love, and to love you back. And you’ll have enough for all of us.”

Seungmin waits, and waits. The moon starts to disappear from the cracks in the trees, and the little bit of light it seemed to scatter through the clouds disappears. It’s truly dark now, because there’s no sunrise coming for Seungmin yet. He hopes it never comes. If the sun stays asleep and the moon remains, he’ll never have to face a single day without her—he’ll never have the face the consequences of his actions. But he suspects he’s not that lucky, so he waits, and he lets out a long, monotone whistle.

A deep breath in, and another long whistle, and then he’s quiet again. A few moments pass, but eventually, he starts to hear the sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor that managed to stay dry under the trees. Slow, heavy footsteps. Deep, shaking breaths. He can’t look, but he knows it’s there…Seungmin has felt it before, and he’s smelled it from his open bedroom window.

A snort makes him jump, and he mistakenly raises his head to look. All that’s visible is shadow, but it moves easily through trees.

“I’m here,” Seungmin says loudly, but his voice trembles. “You remember me.” A glimpse of eyes, just an amber colored streak moving and ducking behind a tree. “I’m ready to go…please.”

It answers with another snort, another crunch of slow footsteps, but it doesn’t show itself.

“Please!”

Something else is here—behind him, beside him. It’s steps lightly and quickly, and he sees it, a black cloud bouncing and moving like air. And then he sees another…a white whisp of a cloud, and this one is more visible as it darts past the trees. The white one gets closer as it circles him, and the black one follows far behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper. His head swims, and his stomach turns, and before he hits the ground, Seungmin sees a set of blue eyes staring him down.

* * *

The bed shakes, and you’re out of your sleep immediately. The sour feeling in your stomach hits fast, but you hold it down when you see Seungmin’s face—his forehead drips with sweat, his jaw and fists are clenched tight enough to break.

“Minnie?” You touch his forehead, and he’s cold. “Minnie, can you hear me?”

He groans, his face relaxes, and he starts to cry.

“Seungmin, please…wake up”

Please take me…I’m alone…I’m all alone now

“You’re not alone”

I have nothing left here

“Minnie, I know you’ll hear me soon. You’ll hear me over whatever is going on in there.”

I’m too scared to do it myself

You don’t remember him ever speaking so clearly in his sleep before, and you don’t like what he seems to be saying. “Seungmin, wake up.”

Finally, he’s out of it, but now he looks like he’s heading straight into a panic attack. He bolts up and struggles to catch his breath, looks around frantically in the dark room. Before you say another word, you’re up and around the bed, clicking the light on, digging in his drawer for his bottle of Xanax.

“Minnie, hey it’s okay…take this.” You hand him his glass of water and hold the pill in front of him. “Look at me.”

He listens. You see his eyes move up and connect with yours, but he’s frozen and shivering as he parts his lips for you.

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe”

Seungmin is silent as he sips his water and slowly catches his breath, and he doesn’t move when you climb across him and crawl back under the covers. He pulls his sweat-damp shirt over his head and throws it to the floor. “Can I sleep over there?” He asks as he works his way over. “God, I sweat through everything.”

“Come here. You’re so cold, get back under the covers.”

“Those dogs”

“Dogs?”

“They weren’t there, in the woods. I’ve never seen them before.”

“In your dreams?”

Seungmin has had many dreams since you’ve been here next to him, and they’ve been bad. Most have been manageable, some have been terrifying, but none have made him wake up like this before. “It felt so real. I’m afraid I’ll go back if I fall asleep again.” He sits up and rubs his face. The medicine will relax him soon, and hopefully help him fall into a dreamless sleep for a few more hours.

“Does that usually happen?”

Everything about his dream, except for the very end, was a memory—the thing he’s afraid to tell you. Now doesn’t seem the time or the place, but as he lies here and thinks, he wonders if a time and a place for that story will ever exist. “No, but I don’t usually dream about that part…and it wasn’t off, like the dreams usually are. Everything seemed accurate, right down to the things we said to each other.”

“You and…your mom?”

“Yeah. And the dogs, I don’t know where they came from, or if they were helping or coming after me.”

“Was there a big white one?”

“A white one, and a black one. I’ve seen the black one before, just not in my dream.”

“Recently?”

“No, it was the day I found out about your negative test. It lead me to where the box was…ah, how did I forget about that?” He looks at you, expecting the same moment of clarity that he’s having, but you just stare back, a little lost. “I saw the dog in living room, and I followed it to the cabinet where the trash was.”

“You think your hallucination lead you to the test?”

“You don’t?”

“It’s possible, I guess. It’s not much weirder than us sharing dreams.”

“What are they, though?” He says it out loud, but he seems to be asking only himself. “Where did they come from?”

“Dreams can be so strange.” You can feel yourself dozing off, but you don’t want to sleep until he’s comfortable and his eyes are closed.

“Our dreams are very strange”

The body that was tucked up against you is gone. No more arms wrapped tight around your waist, no more warm breath against your chest. You woke up twice to Seungmin sleeping soundly with you, but now, the third time, he’s gone. He hasn’t returned to his side of the bed, and the curtain is still pulled halfway closed, just like it was last night. It’s quiet…no sounds of him in the shower, or in the kitchen, and there’s no smell of coffee brewing.

This isn’t a great way to wake up.

“Seungmin?” You call out as loudly as your morning voice will allow you, but your head pounds when you do, and the pain makes you nauseous. Still, you manage to get on two feet and head for the door. “Seungmin?”

The kitchen is empty, but the bathroom door is cracked. You decide to give it another minute before calling out for him again, because he’s in there. His keys are on the table, jacket is hanging by the door, and his two regular pairs of shoes are right next to yours.

You start making him coffee, but by the time it’s mostly finished brewing, you start to hate the quiet.

“Minnie, are you in there?” Your fingertips set against the door, but your push is hesitant. The strong herbal smell of his bath salts hit you from here. “I’m gonna come in.”

A soft okay reaches your ears as you push the door open, and you sigh when you see him there, submersed in the tub. The water is all the way up to his chin, and his eyes stay closed as you approach him.

“You’ve been in here for a while,” you kneel down and rest your arms on the bathtub. “You okay?”

“I think so”

You take his word for it, but his blank stare tells you he’s probably not completely okay. The nightmare might still be in his mind, or maybe the nightmare pushed even more to the surface—something his medication can’t keep down. “We’ll have some breakfast, and if you wanna talk about anything…” maybe it’s something else entirely.

“I’m not very hungry”

“Okay,” you start to reach out for him, but stop yourself. If he reaches back, the pain in your chest might let up…you don’t want to go back to his silence right now, but you might have to. You’ll wait for him to push through it. “Coffee? I’ll get you towel.”

“I was okay, I’m sorry”

“And you’ll be okay again, we just have to get through it”

“It stayed away for a while. We really kept our minds occupied…that was nice,” he forces a smile.

“But it can’t stay away forever.” Seungmin looks at you, almost questioningly, as you finally reach out and run a hand across his forehead. “And I want you to feel better. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

Seungmin holds his pill in the palm of his hand and stares at it. He’s been so good—so consistent. Every single morning since finding out the twins were still there and still okay, he’s been even more adamant about doing what he can to be okay for them. Up until today, it’s worked. Last nights dream might be partially to blame, but he knows he’s overdue, and he feels like he’s doing something wrong.

He watches you head toward the bedroom, wrapped up and shivering in two towels. “Do you think I can be fixed?”

“Fixed?” You poke your head back out and study him. “Do you feel like you need fixed?”

“I’m not sure. But I wonder sometimes if they’re doomed to be like me, no matter what.”

The fear you had swirling inside of you before, the feeling that still comes back sometimes, seems to have crept into his thoughts. You were never afraid of having a child that ended up with an illness like him, though, that never once crossed your mind…but now that his need to kill has returned, he’s stuck in that part of his head. And though he hasn’t actually said anything about their sex, you're beginning to have a feeling in your gut.

“Seungmin, are we…?” You start, but you still don't think you want to know for sure.

“What?” His eyes soften as he searches yours.

“Nothing, never mind.” It’s been two weeks since that doctor’s visit, and he hasn’t said a word about it. He hasn’t dropped any sort of hint, or let anything slip. During a few talkative nights, you wondered if he would mumble something in his sleep. But he hasn’t yet. “They’re gonna be as sweet, and as caring, and as thoughtful as you are to me.”

Seungmin slowly shakes his head. “I hope so. Right now, I really…really need to—” his eyes drop to your stomach, “I need to clear my head again.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, I want you to stay. If you want.”

“Are you coming back with them, if you find someone?” You think about how messy it was the first time you were here, and how out of control everything was. But you do want to stay, because your mind is also on the last time…his knife in your hand, the way he looked at you and touched you after the girl hit the floor. “I’d rather stay, but I can’t listen—“

Seungmin takes your face in his hands, and his smile is uncertain. “No, I don’t want you to hear that. I want you to help me, if you want…uhm…”

“Help?”

“But I understand if you don’t want to”

Your heart pounds. The look he’s giving you is a strange mix of shy, and a little bit of that Seungmin who made you a drink and carried you into his bedroom. “Help you kill?”

“Or just watch. I don't need the sex.”

“Minnie”

“It’s too much, I know…I don’t know why I’m asking. You shouldn’t be seeing that…after what I just…after just telling you I’m worried about how they’ll end up. Fuck, no…I’ll go.”

“Minnie, wait”

“You can stay if you’re comfortable. Maybe in the bathroom, or the nursery.” The nursery that’s still just a gutted room with a twin bed. Going through things and cleaning took much longer than anticipated. “Taegyo seems a little pointless now, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not, they still need to hear you talk to them every night. They need you to feel better.”

There’s still a look of reluctance and confusion on him, and instead of heading for the door, he paces back and forth and thinks. But he stops suddenly and stares off toward the open door of the nursery.

“What’s wrong?”

He takes a few slow steps in the direction he’s looking, and then shuts his eyes tight. “It’s there…it came out of the room. The black one.” He starts walking toward whatever he’s seeing and ends up back in the bedroom, and you follow. “It went under the bed.”

You watch him drop to his knees and look, but if there’s something black under there, he won’t see much of it. Your curiosity gets the better of you, so you do the same on your side of the bed—drop to your hands and knees and look. “I don’t…”

“What?”

Something glimmers despite the lack of light…something silvery blue. You push yourself under and reach toward it, but it moves. “What the hell?” It disappears, and then reappears, and you hear it. That growl. The same deep growl from your nightmare. It lunges forward and all you see is a streak of white fur and teeth as you pull yourself back and crawl away. You hold back a cry, but as soon as Seungmin sees your face, he’s on his knees in front of you.

“What happened?” His voice shakes. “You saw it?”

“I dunno,” you pant and try not to catch sight of anymore shining eyes, so you look at him instead. “Seungmin, I think I’m seeing things.”

Seeing things, hearing them, feeling their strange presence.

Whatever was under there is gone when Seungmin shines a flashlight into the darkness. It’s empty. No lost clothes or forgotten boxes, nothing that could have picked up and reflected the little bit of light in the room.

“Are you gonna tell me what you saw under there.” Seungmin stands in front of two cups and watches the almond blossoms bloom in the hot water.

“It was a dog, a white one, and it growled and snapped at me”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Only in a dream, but in the dream I thought the dog was you…trying to kill me”

That dream, he thinks to himself—the one you couldn’t explain to him that morning, and it’s been forgotten ever since. “The white dog was me?” The white dog that tried to kill you, that stood over him in his dream last night. The one that tried to bite. But where did the black one disappear to?

“Yes, in the woods. And then in the shed, but I woke up in the middle of it attacking me. You woke me up.”

“It’s a big dog, right? Obviously we’re seeing the same one, and I saw them both together, but maybe it’s just one.”

“Big, but skinny and tall…like a greyhound, but not.” You get up and head back to the bedroom, and carefully walk by the bed, making sure to give the edge of it a wide berth. Nothing makes a sound or shows itself, and you return to him, phone in hand. “Long-haired greyhound? I dunno what I’m searching for, I’m sure Google can figure it out.” You scroll and click a few times, and then show him the image pulled up on your phone. “Is this your black dog?”

Seungmin’s eyes grow as he looks at it, “yes that’s exactly what he looks like…and they both look exactly the same.”

“They look so sweet in these photos, but my white one isn’t sweet at all.” My? The white one does seem to be yours, because you haven’t seen his black dog. At least not yet. “But dwelling on it isn’t gonna help.”

“No, and I’m sure I’ll see them again”

“We should get back to our earlier conversation”

He forgot about his request. Seungmin isn’t sure why he thinks you’d want to have anything to do with this, but you did intentionally put yourself front and center for his last kill. “Can we forget about it? I didn’t know I was gonna ask you that until it came out of my mouth.”

“No, we don’t have to forget. At least let me answer.”

He’s expecting an explanation for your no, because you’re good at putting your thoughts into words for him. At least he knows you’ll be gentle. Seungmin has found out, thanks to you, how terrible he is at accepting criticism and being told what he doesn’t want to hear. You’ve been honest with him when it was necessary, and it’s been difficult, but he’s getting better…he thinks.

“I would love to watch you”

Seungmin heads out, and you stay home. He said he would keep you updated on his timeline if he could, but you decide to just expect him at any moment. And the plan is pretty scarce, but probably enough for him, and this time you’ll just have to trust he’s truly back on his game.

“Phone…I won’t forget the phone this time. Or the cameras. I’ll text you when I’m turning them back on so you know I’m in the building.”

But you’re terrified. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he left. He could be an hour, or he could be five hours, so how do you wait and pass the time? How do you prep? You’ve been avoiding going into the bedroom while you’re alone here, but you have to at least go in there and clean up. The sheets are still a mess, and there’s a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. There’s a pile of clean laundry in another corner—neither of you ever let it get this messy, but you’ve been focused on making space for two babies, and now, standing here thinking of that…maybe it’s too soon. You’re fourteenweeks in. Almost four months. Okay, maybe it’s not too soon. You were expecting this to drag, but since finding out, time has passed by far more quickly than it ever has.

Okay…just fix the damn sheets, there’s nothing under there. You walk quietly and start to pull at the spots where it’s the messiest…listen carefully as you tuck, fluff the pillows, set Daengmo right on top. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see a flash of white, but there’s nothing there when you scan the room.

Daengmo gives you a look, or he seems to, so you change your mind and take him back to the kitchen with you.

This place is too quiet without him, you think, but Seungmin himself is quiet. It isn’t just the sound…it feels quiet without him, because his presence alone can be overwhelming. He’s still so intense and serious sometimes, but he turns it off when he needs to—when he keeps you awake a little longer talking to you and the twins, or when he wakes you up with the sounds of his guitar. He finally sang for you a few mornings ago.

When you open your eyes to see him, he's turned away, and he avoids looking at you until he finishes his song.

“What song was that? Was it yours?

Seungmin spins in his chair and carefully returns the guitar to its stand. “Not mine, no. It’s called ‘through the night’.

“Through the night,” you say under your breath, making sure to remember the title. “Thank you.”

“For singing?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that voice from me all this time”

He starts toward you and smiles, and you can still see some diffidence behind it as he slides back under the covers. “Sorry,” he gets close, and he closes his eyes as if he plans on going right back to bed. So you do, too.

Until this moment, you forgot about the name of the song. “Through the night,” you say out loud and head for your laptop. But he never said the original artist—it doesn’t matter, you’ll know it when you hear it. Before you get a chance to type it in the search bar, your phone buzzes. “Minnie…that was fast.” At first you assume it’s something else, not him, because it’s barely been two hours, but it is him…

in the elevator

Your heart jumps to your throat, and you wonder if you can really do this. The want is there, and the need, there’s no question about that. And this will be easier than last time, you think. Right? Just watching him.

“Just watching,” you reaffirm yourself and shut the laptop, hide anything that looks like someone else lives here, and shut yourself in the nursery. The door on this room is much older, and very lucky for you, there’s a keyhole to peek out of. You kneel down and focus right as the lock clicks, and in walks Seungmin. “Who did you find?” you whisper against the door as she finally walks in behind him. “Oh.”

He speaks, she speaks—your Korean comprehension is still bad, despite the classes, and despite Seungmin patiently helping every way he can. He only speaks directly to the twins in Korean, but he translates everything for you, so they always get both. Seungmin speaks again, and you can’t help but notice him looking around the room. If your presence makes him nervous, he could slip up somehow. But this was your idea, Minnie…you’ll be fine.

She touches him, and your stomach starts to turn sour. A hand runs up his side and pulls at his shirt, and that peak of his skin already has you seeing red, but you breath deep and remember that you’re his other half in this. Seungmin belongs to you, and this is the last thing this girl will ever do.

But what happens next? He told you there would be no sex, but he still has to set things up the way he’s accustomed to, or at least close to it. How far will he have to go to get her where he wants her?

Her hand cups his dick, and her face falls. When she speaks again, you know what she says without understanding a word—not hard for me? No. No cock growing in his jeans for her. Seungmin is still soft, and he’ll probably stay that way. And he plays it off well, feigning shyness, smiling and hiding his face. It still makes you jealous, act or no act, because he's so good at this. She takes Seungmin by the hand and looks around, but she starts toward your door first, and you move your eye from the keyhole until you hear her being redirected. As soon as you look again, you catch his gaze lingering right where you are.

The bedroom door opens, and then shuts, but you hear the doorknob turn lightly and the latch click free. Now you can easily slide in without making a sound, lock the door, and watch.

The girl is too distracted by Seungmin's shirt being pulled over his head; slipping into the bedroom and carefully closing the door goes completely unheard, and the slide of the key does, too. Had she been facing you, things might be hectic right now, but you trusted him to keep her where you both needed her. The room is perfectly dark, lit up only by the string lights you put around the bookcase. It's just enough, and when your eyes start to adjust, you can see much more of him outlined by it, and you see his eyes move to you and smile sweetly. Somehow, she doesn't notice him looking at something other than her.

Her hands go for the button of his jeans, but he stops her. You can see the gears turning in his head as he wonders what his next move is going to be. She speaks, and you can see that he's annoyed.

"Turn around..." Seungmin grabs her wrists and holds them tight as she spins to face you.

"Huh...quit messing arou—"

The air catches in your throat when she sees you, but you do everything in your power to keep your composure. Looking nervous will do nothing to help him right now.

"What's going on, what is this? I didn't come here for a threesome."

"Shut up." Seungmin switches to English, and to your surprise, she does, too.

"Let go of me, I'm over this...get your hands off of me you psycho"

You assumed you'd be out of her view the entire time or at least most of it, but that's not the case. And then his hands start to loosen, she pulls away from him and heads for the door...now you wonder what exactly he has planned. Just as you open your mouth to get his attention, she pulls on the doorknob and screams...

"Open this fucking door!"

Seungmin walks toward her, and she runs to the far side of the room, away from him and away from you, and when she backs herself against the bookcase, everything starts moving in slow motion—her hands grope along the shelf for something...anything. The first thing she grabs is the glass vase of withered heliotrope, and she smashes it hard against the floor. The sound is unbelievably loud, but there's still a piece of glass large enough for her to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Let me out of this room," she holds it nervously, and her free hand goes back to the shelf. "Unlock the door."

Despite the drama, your mind goes back to you. Your night here with him, and how you ran to the door and fell to your knees in defeat, but you come back quickly when her hand finds the music box.

"Stop," Seungmin throws his hands up, "enough."

This is not going well, but he can still turn things around. Not soon enough, though. She drops the shard of glass, takes the music box in both hands, and uses all of her strength to smash it against the wet floor. You can't see anything from where you stand, but you hear it—the painful splinter of wood, and the sweet, lonely melody of it's insides filling the room.

Seungmin lunges for her so quickly and so quietly. He's terrifying. His hands close around her throat and drag her back toward the bed with little effort, and when he throws her on it, she stays there.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, please"

He straddles her hips, and she's frozen in terror as his hands close around her throat again, and then he looks at you. A few steps toward the bed bring a smile to his face, so you take a few more, and the desire to touch him makes your whole body tremble. The muscles of his back move as he breathes, and veins start to pop in his arms as his grip tightens. You hardly notice her, even as she gasps for air and scratches at his arms, because Seungmin is all you ever see.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you can see sadness behind his smile. Maybe a lament for his music box.

"Only if you are." You walk behind him and give in to your urges. One hands runs across the small of his back and up his spine, and you hear him groan as he squeezes tighter.

"I am"

From here you have the perfect view of both of them, so you watch quietly and keep your hands off as he continues...as he squeezes, and you hear her last desperate gasps...as he finishes. There's no more movement from her, and you can see it in her eyes, just like the one you took the life from—emptiness. His hands loosen, fingers flex, and he straightens his back as he starts to rise. You're silent as he watches the body for a few more moments, and then he turns to you.

Seungmin is looking through you again, inside of you and outside of you; reading your mind, and looking for an answer to the same question he asked before.

“I’m good”

The state of the room—the broken glass, the splintered music box, the dead body—it’s all pushed away with his soft touch and the scent of his adrenaline filled sweat. His arms slide around your shoulders and pull you tight against his bare chest.

“I’m sorry, that was a mess”

“No,” you push back and look at him. “Some things didn’t go how we wanted them to," you look to the body, and then toward the mess on the floor, "but…no, baby.” Seungmin lets you pull him to the door, and he doesn’t say a word as you unlock it and put the dead girl out of sight.

“I was never this clumsy before, I really wasn’t. I fucked up sometimes, but this…”

The sun is just starting to set outside, and the light hits just right on the couch where you’re leading him. Even as you set him down and look at him, he looks up at you with so much defeat in his eyes. Seungmin is supposed to feel better after a kill, and maybe he will soon, but right now he’s nowhere near okay.

“This was also your first time with someone watching you. Please, be a little easier on yourself.”

He sighs and falls back against the couch. “No, I don’t—" he looks to his right and sees Daengmo slumped against the pillow, “I can’t.“

This might take him a little longer to get through. You kneel in front of him and place a kiss on his knee. “You’ll get there, but in the meantime, I’ll do it for you.”

Even as your hand moves up his thigh, Seungmin’s face remains the same, but he lets you touch him. He lets you unbutton and pull gently until you can see his bare thighs, and now when you look at him, a smile is trying its best to break through. It doesn’t quite make it, but as you climb up and straddle him, he doesn’t hesitate to lift your dress and pull your panties down and out of his way.

“You did so well”

He shakes his head as you take his slowly growing cock in your hand.

“Don’t shake your head. Look at me, right now.”

There’s a bit of surprise in his hm?, but still no smile. He does, however, look at you.

“It was fast, and clean…not a drop of blood”

“Just flowers, and glass, and—”

You shush and kiss him, and the soft stroke of your fingertips get him there quickly . “We’ll clean it, we’ll fix everything.”

Something relaxes in him. Seungmin’s head falls back, and the movement in his neck is hypnotizing. “How can we fix it?” His mouth falls open as you slide down and fill yourself with him, and his hands jump to your hips. A stuttery how gets caught in his chest, but you can’t tell what he’s feeling because he’s no longer looking at you. His face is hidden, and his breathing starts to become shallow.

“Minnie?” His shoulders tense up until you hold him tight against you, and your thighs shake as you lower yourself completely on his lap. “Look at me so I can tell you properly.”

It takes a few more seconds and a few more sniffles before he peeks up at you.

“What are these tears for? Just upset about how everything went, or is it the music box?”

“I can’t do anything right. And it’s a miracle I haven’t been caught yet.” Seungmin’s hands squeeze as if he’s trying to get you to move on him, but you’re still as you rub his shoulders.

“Well, I disagree. I was the one watching, and I hope this isn't the last time we do that.” Another squeeze of his fingers makes your thigh jump, but you don’t move. “You did a very good job.”

“I’ll be better for you”

“I love you just like this”

He shakes his head as you kiss him again, but stops when your hands move up. The look on his face changes—he relaxes again as you comb your fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

The shake turns to a nod, and he squeezes again as you start to move slowly, up and down, and the sound of his moans match your pace.

#kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fanfic #skz x reader #kim seungmin x you #stray kids seungmin #kim seungmin au #kim seungmin angst #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fluff #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids serial killer #stray kids series

129 notes · View notes