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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 12 - Somnophilia

Soap x Reader - 5.5k (on ao3)

summary: Your doctor offers to help you get home after your lasik eye surgery. (Reader POV & Johnny POV)

cw: noncon sex, drugging, kidnapping, briefly mentioned lasik eye surgery (no description past one mention of a scalpel)

note: tysm to ceil for giving me this idea <3 i did a few google searches on lasik eye surgery and tried to mention the actual feelings as little as possible, and also the drug johnny uses is probably literally impossible but its fic so who cares lol

“And… how long did you say I have to wear these?” You ask, tentatively touching the glasses resting over your eyes.

“Och, not long at all. Just until tonight, then you come in for a check-up tomorrow afternoon and I’ll let you know what other care you’ll need.” Dr. MacTavish replies, big hands adjusting the frames and pushing them up your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are they usually painted like this?” You’d hardly been able to see post lasik-surgery - mostly just big swaths of color - but you feel far more vulnerable with the sunglasses on, their blacked out lenses leaving you entirely in the dark except for the blurry light around the rims.

Your doctor’s laugh is low and comforting, his hand patting you on the shoulder before you hear him moving away. “Of course. Not all optometrists use them, but I’ve found for patients like you they have the best results.”

“Like me?”

“Yes,” another chuckle, and the sounds of what you assume are tools being put away. “Patients who struggle to be good and sit still during their surgery.”

“Ah.” You feel your cheeks go hot in embarrassment. “I really am sorry about that…”

“No need,” he reassures, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You can’t help but jerk a little, the glasses slipping down your nose. “Oops, don’t be losin’ those, bonnie.”

Your cheeks go hot and you have to fight the urge not to reach up and fix them yourself since his hand gets their first. He rights them quickly, then taps the tip of your nose with a finger. “There you go. Let’s keep those where they should be, hm?” He gives the nape of your neck a squeeze, his palm warm and rough, and you do your best to nod without awkwardly dislodging him.

“Now, do you have a ride home?”

You suck your teeth a little at that. You hadn’t known you’d be wearing the dark glasses after - the care plan you and Dr. MacTavish had discussed beforehand had made it seem like you’d be able to ride the bus home, but you’re not comfortable doing that in your blinded state.

“Ah, not right now,” you start, tangling your fingers together in your lap to avoid rubbing at your itchy eyes. “But I can probably call a friend-”

“Nonsense,” Dr. MacTavish dismisses, moving away from you and back to whatever he’d been moving before. “You’re my last patient of the day, how about I give you a ride home?”

“Oh,” you start, startled at his offer. “Oh, that’s… no, that’s alright, Doctor. I’m sure one of my friends could-”

He interrupts you with a tsk, and suddenly there’s a hand at your elbows guiding you up, then just one as he walks you out of the office. “No, that won’t do. We need to get you home and in bed as soon as possible - it’s not good for you to be keeping your eyes open so much after surgery, you know.”

“Oh, really?” You gasp a little, letting him guide you. “Should I be keeping them closed? I don’t want to make anything worse…”

“You’re doing just fine, bonnie, no worries.” The hand on your elbow squeezes as you come to a stop, and you hear the sound of something being written on. “I’ll take good care of you now. C’mon.” What must be a pen is dropped onto what you can only assume is the front counter, and you’re guided forward again. “We’ll have you safe at home in no time.”

Dr. MacTavish’s car is nice - the seats aren’t cracking at all, the air conditioning works to cool the interior quickly, there’s a faint minty smell - but it disconcerts you more than you might’ve expected to be left completely blind in an unfamiliar environment, and with someone you don’t know past a professional relationship.

You give him your address after he buckles you in (you swear his hand brushes your chest, but it doesn’t linger and you don’t want to accuse him of something unfounded just because of a slight touch) and he doesn’t bother to input it into the GPS, tells you he already knows where the neighborhood is.

You haven’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. Even around the edge of the glasses, all you can see are blurs of color, and you feel oddly exposed without the ability to see. Your eyes itch and sting, and it takes conscious effort not to rub the feeling away.

You lift a hand to rub them without even thinking but before it’s even halfway to your face Dr. MacTavish grabs it, pinning it to your thigh and making a low noise of dissent. “No rubbing now, lass, you know the rules.”

The heat creeping up your neck is entirely involuntary, and you tuck your free hand beneath your leg to resist the urge to squirm. “Right, of course, I’m sorry Dr. MacTavish.”

“Johnny, lass, no need for titles off the clock.”

You try to make a vague noise of understanding but end up sounding a bit like a bird, your hand clammy beneath his. He gives you a squeeze, but doesn’t let go. You’d ask him to move but… well, you don’t want to make things awkward when he’s your only way home at the moment and you figure he’s just helping. So you try to relax your fingers, and zone out to the sound of him humming along to the radio.

“Here we are,” he announces eventually, the car slowing to a stop before he turns into your driveway. “Nice neighborhood, hen. Very safe.”

You try to laugh casually and cringe when it just comes off as awkward - you’re unsure how to naviagte small-talk when all you really want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. “I just moved here recently, but it seems to be a pleasant area. I certainly don’t have any complaints.”

Dr. MacTavish - Johnny - hums in response, turning the car off and getting out to come to your side. He unbuckles you quickly and again there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says his hand lingered by your waist for just a few beats too long. But his fingers don’t venture anywhere appropriate, and you tell yourself that you’re seeing something that isn’t really there.

He keeps a hold of your elbow as he guides you up the stairs and into your building. He pauses and then a moment later you hear a ding, and the clear familiar sound of an elevator opening.

“Oh,” you say, shocked as he tugs you forward. “I had no idea the elevator was fixed - it’s been out of order since I moved in.”

“Really?” You hear press a button.

You stand there in silence for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before you feel the elevator start to move.

“Um, Dr Ma- Johnny, what floor did you pick?”

There’s a pause before he answers, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Och, silly me,” Johnny laughs, the sound echoing in the metal walls. “Force of habit, bonnie, I picked my floor in my building. What’s yours?”

You try to laugh it off, but the way his fingers tighten almost imperceptiably against the crook of your elbow has you sounding a bit too stiff. “Four, please.”

“Four,” he hums, and you hear him press another button.

The ride up is a bit awkward, at least from your perspective. Johnny makes no attempt at conversation past the occasional hum along to the music, and you’re a little too on edge to worry about small-talk right now.

Calm down, you insist to yourself. He’s just being polite. Making sure you get home safe. You’ve got to stop seeing the worst in people.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence when the door opens for the first time, both you and Johnny just waiting for it to close and take you to the proper floor.

The doors are much quicker to open the third time, and you figure Johnny must live on the third or fifth floor in his own building for you to have gotten to your floor so quickly.

“What’s your apartment number, lass?”

You tell him, and his hold loosens slightly against your arm. There’s a part of you - the part still a little cautious for reasons you can’t quite name - that relaxes when the path he takes is familiar. Only a few steps, apartment on the right side of the hall.

“Let me get my keys,” you mumble, tugging your arm away from his and pulling your keychain out of your pocket. You’d opted not to bring a purse to your surgery, thinking you’d be riding the bus home mostly blind, so you’ve got virtually nothing to dig through before offering your keyring up.

They’re taken, you hear the familiar jungling soun, and then you’re being guided into your apartment by a firm hand placed at the small of your back. You can’t help but sigh deeply in relief, the familiarity of your home a comfort when you still feel so unachored without your sight.

“Very cute place you’ve got,” Johnny compliments, a smile audible in his voice.

“Thank you.” You hesitate just a moment before going on, unsure of how to phrase your next sentence. “And thank you for all the help getting home, Doctor, I really do appreciate it.”

A.k.a., I’m safe, you can leave.

“Aye, of course!” Johnny says, sounding almost offended like you were implying he wouldn’t usually take his patients home. Another part of you relaxes - he probably does this for every patient he sees at the end of a workday, you’re certainly nothing special. “Now, let’s get you settled nice and snug in bed, and then I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense!” You’re cut off as he drops a heavy hand onto the nape of your neck, ignoring your slightly dramatic flinch and guiding you forward. “I’ve gotten you this far, would be a shame if I left you now and you took a tumble, hm?”

“I think I can get around my own apartment well enough, “ you try to protest, a little huff of offense escaping without your permission.

“Well, now we won’t have to test that theory.”

He moves quickly and just seconds later you’re sort of shoved onto your bed - almost oddly high off the ground, but you chalk it up to the way you stumble onto it.

Johnny scoops your feet up, laughs a little at your yelp and lays you out on the bed. You blink up into the dark glasses, a little gobsmacked at the sudden shift and odd amount of manhandling from the doctor.

“Do you have any pain meds, love? We wouldn’t want you wakin’ up in the middle of the night, all uncomfortable and hurt. Something light, like Advil or Tylenol?”

“Um, yes,” you stutter a bit, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and glancing up at where you hear his voice. “In my bathroom, on the counter. But Dr. MacTav-”

A hand presses into the center of your chest, forcing you back to the bed with a little oof before your hear him walk away. “Johnny, lass! What’ll I have to do to get you to call me the proper name, hm?”

His voice is almost jovial, and you hear him muttering to himself a bit through the open door of your bathroom before he returns. You hear water running for a moment, and then his shoes on the carpet of your bedroom as he comes back.

“Here,” he says as he grasps your hand, holding it palm open and dropping two pills into it. “And you had a spare cup in the bathroom, so you won’t have to swallow dry.”

“Thank… thank you, Doc- Johnny, truly, I appreciate it.”

You swallow dryly, suddenly thankful for the glass of water. The pills are small in your palm, familiar but there’s something in the back of your head screaming at you. You run your fingers over them absentmindidly, the stinging itch in your eyes growing.

Johnny scoops an arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up a bit and guiding the glass to your lips. “Here you are, lass, quick sip.”

You listen, then pop the pills into your mouth and swallow them with the water.

“Good girl,” Johnny hums, his voice vibrating through your side. His hand squeezes the shoulder in his grasp, and you shudder out a breath at the odd… intimacy? That doesn’t quite feel like the right word, but affection feels too distant for how close he holds himself.

You’re guided back down, head resting on a somewhat-flat pillow, and Johnny moves down to the end of the bed to take off your shoes.

Now that you’re resting in bed, it hits you how exhausted you are. The past few days of worrying over your procedure, the actual stress of the surgery itself, and the odd tension you’ve carried since all leave you feeling drained entirely once your head hits the pillow.

“We’ll get these shoes off so you’re nice and comfortable,” you hear Johnny say, his voice a little muffled now that you’re nearly half-asleep already. “Tired, lass?”

You only hum a bit, curling onto your side once both of your shoes are off, the sound of them thudding on the carpet almost silent. Your nose scrunches a bit as you get your first scent of the pillow. It doesn’t quite smell right, the lingering air of shampoo is definitely not one you’re familiar with.

There’s a shift of weight against your back, then a hand stroking over your head.

“Just sleep, bonnie. I’ll watch out for you.”

There’s a part of you, still awake enough, that thinks that isn’t right. But the more major part of you is already asleep.

———————————————————————

Johnny can’t help but smile as he watches you sleep. The little trail of drool dripping from your lips onto his pillow, the soft sounds of your breathing, the twitches to your expression as you dream.

You’re truly adorable. He’d known it as soon as you came for a consultation about the surgery, and every moment spent after has only cemented that in his head. Even the way you tensed and squirmed in his chair while he was working was cute, your desperation to be good and listen overpowering your fear of what he was doing.

He reflects on the day as he gets undressed, folding his clothes on your dresser. You’d been very nervous, and even his most soothing tone and friendly conversation topics hadn’t done much to help. It’s natural - nobody’s ever at ease with a scalpel held over their eye - but he’d still felt a little dissapointed that his presense wasn’t of much help calming you down.

But it’s alright. You’ll learn very soon that you can trust him.

It was easier than he’d expected to get you back to his home. You’re far too trusting, apparently - another reason it’s for the best if he keeps an eye on you - and past some clear tension in your stance, you hadn’t fought him once or even tried to make sure he had taken you to the right place.

Johnny’s certainly not going to complain, though. His plan had been half-baked at best. Honestly if you’d even put up a slight bit of resistance, he probably would have taken you back home - your home - and gone back to the drawing board.

He can’t help but smile a bit. The fact that you hadn’t fought at all is just more proof that this was meant to be.

He climbs over your body, his naked skin brushing against your clothes. You don’t shift at all as he rolls you to your back, your face still relaxed in sleep. His smile grows.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing a hand over your face. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

It’s easy to push your shirt up your stomach. He doesn’t take it off, not quite willing to risk that much movement while the drugs could still be settling in.

God, the way you’d just taken his pills with no hesitation, with just complete and total trust in him to do right by you. It makes his cock stifen against your stomach, the way you’d just listened and trusted him.

He moans as he finally pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, the sight of your tits bringing him to full hardness almost immediately. You’d dressed up for him, soft white lace wrapped around your beautiful chest.

He ducks down to suck a peak into his mouth, tonguing at a nipple through the fabric. He groans a bit at the taste of your skin, muted as it is, and quickly tugs down the cup of the bra to get a real bite of you.

He could lay there at your tits for hours, he just knows it. He kisses his way across your chest, gives your other nipple some love and thumbing at the first with a free hand. He forces his movements to stay soft and slow, resists the urge to bite and leave a ring of teeth marks around your areola.

“Taste so good, baby,” he whispers as he pushes himself up, admiring the shiny spit across your skin. He rubs it in a little, spreading himself across any place his lips hadn’t touched. “Gonna let me get a taste of your pussy too?”

Obviously you don’t respond. Still, Johnny smiles down at you and moves to pet your stomach.

“Yeah, I know you will. Just wanna be a good girl for me, hm?”

Of course you do, he already knows you’ll be good to him - be good for him.

It’s easy to wrap his hands around your waist and flip you gently to your stomach. He guides your head to the side and pulls your hair away to make sure he can get a good view of your pretty face, leans down to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and breathes in the scent of your bodywash and shampoo.

Your pants are easy enough to get off, and he forces himself to tug them all the way off both legs before even looking at your sweet little ass. He’d been staring at any chance he could all day, had kept his eyes glued to your backside for the entire elevator ride up to his apartment when he was sure you couldn’t see his leering.

Now he can’t help but groan aloud when he kneels over your thighs, the sight of you vulnerable and limp beneath him almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, spread your knees for me, lass,” he mutters, slowly moving your legs to the side and moving between them. He’s careful as he props you up onto your knees, folding them beneath you and making sure to balance you with one hand on your hip so you don’t fall to the side.

He’s nearly drooling as he gets his first sight of your core - lips just slightly spread, pretty pink pussy peeking out at him. It’s almost too much, he has to give himself a few quick jerks just to lessen the ache building in his cock.

“Look at you,” he says on a sigh, dipping his head low enough to breathe in your scent. He hikes your hips up a little higher to keep you at the right angle, quickly shushes your little noise of discontent at the shift.

“It’s alright, you’re ok,” he reassures, petting over your hip a few times to calm your unconscious mind. “Just wanna make you feel good, pretty thing. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

He licks you, from clit to ass, to help you calm down a bit more. It works - your body goes a little more limp in his hold, your back arching more easily into the position he wants. He licks you several more times, groaning as he tries to cover every inch of your cunt, tasting every piece of skin he can. He lays his tongue flat at first, then uses the tip to make sure he doesn’t miss a spot.

“So good,” he moans, burying his face into your center and just breathing there for a moment. There’s a little bit of slick beginning to drip from your hole, but not much. He licks it up anyway, savoring the taste and promising to feast later.

He stays glued to your clit for a bit, taking the little bud between his lips and running the tip of his tongue over it again and again until he finds the exact spot that makes your thighs twitch, the pattern that has you whining every other breath.

Johnny moves back up, laps at the sweet nectar dripping steadily from you now. Every little flick of his tongue arouses you more, and no matter how long he keeps his mouth on you he knows he’d never run out of your taste.

It’s with only a bit of reluctance that he pulls away. He spreads both of your cheeks with his palms, admiring your two tight little holes and the sheen covering your most sensitive spots. He’d like to give your ass a few smacks, paint it red and watch you squirm, but he’s not sure how much sensation he can give you without pulling you from the drugs’ hold.

Which is also why he tucks a few fingers into your cunt, just to stretch you out. He’d like to fuck into you without any prep at all, watch your pretty face scrunch up as you’re spread on the thickest cock you’d ever taken (and he knows he’s the biggest you’ve had). Maybe you would even cry a little, blink teary eyes up at him and ask him to slow down.

He groans at the image, scissoring his fingers inside of you to prepare you as quickly as he can.

It’s easy to ease himself forward and line his cockhead up with your little hole. He knows another finger would’ve been a kindness, but with how his cock throbs between his legs he’s not sure he’ll make it very long once he’s finally inside of you.

So he taps the tip against your leaking hole, snorts quietly when the thought pops into his head that he’s almost knocking on a door, then slowly lets himself sink inside of your heat. He’s stares transfixed at the way your body opens for him so easily, a smooth coming together that he wishes he never had to look away from.

He keeps a secure grip on your hips, letting gravity do most of the work as his hips push forward steadily. His head rolls back on his neck, mouth hanging open and grunts spilling from his lips as your tight heat envelops him further and further.

He pauses halfway in to take a breather, just so he doesn’t come before his balls even meet your clit. Your body’s grip on him is unlike anything he’s ever felt, and he knos he made the right choice in bringing you home with him.

It’s hard, but Johnny manages to control himself and keep from fucking you too roughly. His thrusts are long and slow if a little extra harsh, and he stares down at your scrunched up little face and imagines all the filthy ways he’ll have you in the coming weeks.

You shift on your knees when he hits a particularly nice spot, little whines pouring from your throat on exhales. His thrusts nearly punch the air from your body, and he finds himself breathing in sync with you as he loses himself more and more to the pleasure.

He slips a hand from your waist to your clit as he gets closer. It would be awfully selfish of him to leave you needy after getting himself off, and he’s not about to deny himself the tight clench of your body as he brings you to climax.

It takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out what feels good for you - he can’t quite discern the difference between a nose scrunch of frustration and one of pleasure - but the steady pumps of his hips and the constant motions against your clit quickly bring you to the edge.

Your cunt tightens deliciously around him as you finally come, but the true beauty is in the way you go absolutely boneless beneath him. He has to firm up his grip on your waist just to keep you from sinking flat on the bed, huffing a laugh as he thrusts just a bit faster, just enough to get himself there too.

He lets his head fall beside yours as the two of you ride out your climaxes together, staring wide-eyed at the way your face relaxes into the pleasure. He leans forward enough to mesh your lips together, messily forcing your mouth open and licking at your tongue.

It’s not the best kiss - he has to do all the work, and he ends up soaking both of your chins in spit - but he relishes in it anyway. Your first kiss together is something he knows he’ll want to remember for years to come.

He hardly notices as he slips from your body, tingles shooting through every nerve leaving him mostly unaware of his body’s functions. He hardly has the energy to make sure he doesn’t crush you beneath him, instead laying beside you and tucking you into his chest.

“Thank you, bonnie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That was fantastic. Can’t wait to do it again, maybe you’ll do a bit more next time, yeah?” He laughs a little at his own joke, snuggling you close to him and letting his eyes shut slowly.

———————————————————————

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you wake up next, but you can tell immediately that something isn’t right.

First of all, you’re half naked. And you can tell you’re half naked because your legs are being cradled by someone else’s naked legs. And you know for a fact that you didn’t bring anyone home with you.

Except… it occurs to you slowly as you finally blink stinging eyes open, except you did. Dr. MacTavish brought you home.

And you let him into your apartment. You just handed your keys over to a man you hardly knew, let him guide you right to bed without any sort of fight.

Your head pounds with a vengeance, right behind your already hurting eyes.

You let him give you pills, too. You remember that, though it’s the last thing you remember. He asked where your pain meds were and you didn’t even bother to check that he’d given you what you expected. You just swallowed them with water, like this was a man you could trust.

The slight soreness between your thighs tells you that you couldn’t.

The tears that begin to gather in your eyes hurt, which makes you want to cry even more. You can’t hold back a sniffle, then a hiccup, then what sounds more like sobs than anything else.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth, briefly recoil and the weight over your torso.

You can’t bring yourself to look, but you know who’s in bed with you.

Johnny wakes up just minutes later, shifting and making a soft sound of confusion. It must not take him long to put the pieces together because it only takes him a few seconds to start cooing, his rough palm cupping your face over your own hands.

“Lass?” He hums, and from your peripheral you see his brows furrow. It’s only a slight comfort that you even can see. “What’s wrong?”

That almost gets a laugh out of you. You nearly choke on the sound, spit catching in your throat. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

He sighs, like he already knows. Of course he knows. He has to know.

“Don’t be upset.” He leans a little closer, and to your horror you feel him press his lips against your forehead. “You can be awake next time, yeah? Then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Left out,” you echo, a strain of horror making its way into your voice.

“But only if you can be good,” he clarifies. “No fighting me now. Just keep being good for me and you can stay awake, alright?”

“Good…” You feel like a robot, but the combination of your headache and the absurdity of your situation leaves you unable to process what’s happening.

It processes much faster when you feel one of his hands slide up the shirt you’re - by some miracle - still wearing. It’s instinctual to jerk up the bed and away when he goes straight for one of your breasts.

“Get- get off me!” Your voice is nearly a shriek, the pitch sending a shock of pain up your skull.

You don’t make it very far in your tiny escape attempt, Johnny quickly hefting himself above you and pinning you down with his weight.

“Now, lass,” he scolds, face set in a frown that you can’t tell is sarcastic or serious. “What did I just say?”

You can’t make yourself speak, fingers trembling beside your head as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“C’mon,” he goads, dropping his weight a little lower. “Just gotta do one thing for me to stay awake, tell me what it was.”

“I’m not-” you gasp a big breath, blinking up at the man above you. “I’m not fucking calming down! Get off of me, you freak, how dare you-”

“Alright!” He nearly shouts, drowning you out. “That’s enough of that. Back to sleep with you, I think. We’ll see if you can handle participating next time.”

He’s leaned to the side before you can really register what he’s said, scooping two little white pills into his palm and coming back over you.

“Open wide,” he taunts, lips curled into a small smirk as he holds his closed fist above your mouth.

Every instinct in you says to scream and shout, to fight back. But he’s got you pinned with your arms stuck between the two of you, unable to lift your hands and cover your mouth, so you clamp your lips as tightly shut as you can to keep him out.

Johnny only sighs, like you’re making his drugging terribly inconvenient. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out his face, praying that you’ll open them and this will all just be a terrible nightmare.

“Really, lass?” He complains, his free hand reaching up to pinch your nose. Without anything to hold him up, you’re nearly crushed beneath his body weight. “Very mature. I can pinch far longer than you can hold your breath, y’know. You’re making this difficult for no good reason.”

Your eyes fly open at that, glaring up at him with what you hope is a scathing look.

He only laughs.

“Very cute,” he hums, rubbing his nose against your cheek. Your chest burns from the lack of air. “I think you’ll be just perfect to keep around the house. You’ll brighten this place in all the right ways, won’t you?”

Your eyes well with tears as black stars begin to dance across your vision. Completely against your own will, your lips part and you suck in a deep breath.

Johnny doesn’t waste any time - you nearly choke on the pills as they fly down your throat with the air you desperately inhale. You nearly choke, hacking with tears streaming from your eyes, but Johnny just holds a hand over your mouth and brings you both up enough to harshly pat your back.

“There you go, you’re ok,” he mumbles in your ear, rubbing the place he’d slapped as your chest heaves with desperate breaths. The pills leave an uncomfortable lump in your throat, and you reach up to rub at it as if that will make it any better.

He stays like that, holding you close, for several long heartbeats.

“Good girl,” he hums, lips pressing to your temple and the sound rumbling through the contact. “I hope you won’t make me do that next time, I’d much rather you be awake for this next part.”

He lays you back slowly, and you distantly wonder what on Earth he’s given you to knock you out so quickly. Already your eyes feel heavier and you’ve hardly swallowed. You try to keep your eyes open as long as possible, which leaves you staring up at Johnny as he hovers above you.

“It’s not the worst thing, though,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek and thumb passing your undereye. “I don’t mind having you like this, soft and sweet for me.”

Your eyes finally flutter shut just as you feel your legs being nudged apart.

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atzfilm · 10 months ago

Text

— from eden; (m) part one

there's something wretched about this. something so precious about this, oh what a sin

— yeosang/f.reader, seonghwa/f.reader

— vampire!au, angst, smut (15.3k)

— you never thought you'd fall for your best friend. and yet there you were, stumbling upon him in a lover's embrace. heartbroken, you escape to a quiet bar not far from where you work. a man with a pretty mark on his face distracts you.

— content; mxm content, cussing, blood, blood drinking (it's painful, not sexy 😭) heartache, injuries, anxiety, death, violence, slightly descriptive murder (?), attempted assault (nothing happens aside from brief arm touch), insults, smut: unprotected sex, mention of threesome

part two (finale)

you never lived in the moment, never think about how the rain falls, how the streetlights seemingly has an otherworldly feeling to them. you're sure that many of us never do; so deeply involved in our own lives that we never second guess, never take a pause to truly see our surroundings. to hold in a breath and just take that second to stand, to look. you were one of them, until you met him. he's ordinary in every sense of the word. quiet, calm, brown eyes soft in their gaze, lips plush, reddening around the spot he bites into. he is so irrevocably ordinary that it makes no sense as to why you feel like this. park seonghwa should not be making you feel like this.

you sit on the opposite bench from said man, coffee lukewarm as you grip the reusable plastic, desperately trying to look anywhere but directly in front of you. should you feel this way? he's always been the one man you can count on, the one man who never hesitated to help. kindness seemed to flow through his skin as if it was his own blood. he's the opposite of you, the person you've desired to be. your lips tremble as you take in another exaggerated amount of air, eyes glued to the way his pen glides along the paper, glasses resting on the tip of his nose. you can remember the day you joined him on his exam; his eyes wide in shock when the optometrist told him his sight was worse than yours. oh how you wish you can turn back time, forget everything after that moment. somehow change things.

there are often times that you wish that you did not feel the way you felt. that your friend of four years did not make your chest ache so painfully. you hated liking someone, hated the dread, the anxiety that filled your body in every little interaction. you cross your legs, pulling a stray strand from tickling your cheek. your heartbeat fills your ears, your mouth dry.

maybe if you were able to turn back the clock – never stumbling upon him in that bathroom with san, lips pressed together, arms in a tight embrace. maybe if you were not insistent on checking up on him, things would be different. you would still only look at him as your best friend.

"surprised you haven't run over to him," your other friend slides next to you, his own coffee up to his lips. his headphones are his scarf, pale cheeks coated with a light blush. he wiggles his brows, nudging your shoulder as he continues. "traumatized just like the rest of us?"

"how so?" your brow lifts, finally shifting to him. "something new happened?"

"much of the same. san fucks another coworker, it spreads. seonghwa seems to be the victim this time, though. a bit sad, you know. he really thought they had something."

another thing you've forgotten. seonghwa told you of his own crush. choi san. everyone knows how he is, the endless list of conquests not ending anytime soon. you've warned him that san never took things like this seriously, but he refused to listen to you. insisted that it would be different. that he himself is different from the rest. there was no jealousy behind your intentions until you saw it in action. san making eye contact with you. the smirk crossing his lips. it's just something you can't get out of your head.

"i haven't spoken about it with him yet," you admit, sighing. "i should have already, it's just been so busy and–"

"and he needs his best friend," hongjoong lifts his cup, gesturing to him. "he has been knee deep in that project, distracting himself. it's been days already."

you want to say you know, but it'll only make matters worse. you aren't sure what san said to seonghwa, if he ever told him of your presence just on the other side of the door. and it scares you that he might have. there was no hiding the look you gave the two of them no matter how much you tried to hide it. envy? jealously? bitterness? in the end they are all one in the same.

"i'll talk to him."

—

you didn't. hands folded in your head in the staff library, staring at the endless shelves, a pout on your lips. you are not short by any means, but the shelves are high enough to touch the ceilings. and the one book you need rests at the very top. your eyes shift to the ladder next to you, immediately tensing. climbing up over eight feet is not on your agenda (and in fact, never was), so here you stand. anger rising.

"you could have called me."

seonghwa stands there in all his glory – black turtleneck tucked into his pressed slacks, familiar black boots covering his feet, pretty round glasses resting on top of his head. how have you not noticed how effortlessly handsome he was before? he tilts his head at you, a small smile on his lips.

"we've been over this plenty of times. can't read into that big mind of yours. gotta say it out loud." he slides the ladder as you step back, slowly ascending to the shelf you need. you don't even tell him which book it is that you want, his long fingers delicately plucking it off the shelf.

"you’ve been so involved with the project i didn't want to interrupt because of my fear," you frown. "if hongjoong or mingi came around i would've asked them."

"mingi?" he snorts. "he's as afraid of heights as you, maybe more."

"you are too and yet here you are," you gesture to him as he makes his way down. "my knight in shining armor, always."

"it's my job when it comes to you, pretty," he laughs, finally back on the floor. he's always called you pretty, but with your growing feelings it only makes you sink further into regret.

just as he's about to pass the book back to you he stops, smile slowly fading. "you think i haven't noticed your lack of appearance, birdie? it's been over a week and you've barely texted me. your hourly knocks on my office door haven't happened, at all."

this isn't the way you wanted to do this. in all honesty you didn't even mean to avoid him, but your fear of how you feel is getting to you. especially as he stands here now, worry in his eyes as he waits for you to say something. anything.

"i’m sorry about san."

his hold on the book tightens, brows furrowed. "birdie–"

"i know you're going to say that i don't need to worry or that you'll be fine. and i know i messed up not speaking about it with you until now when i know how you felt about your relationship. i've been a horrible friend, hwa. and that feeling grew inside of me to the point where i was scared to speak to you."

seonghwa looks at you, eyes flicking between yours. he swallows slowly, tucking the book beneath his arm. without another word he takes your hand, pulling you through the stacks of books, weaving in and out the rows. you see plenty of people on your way with him. if they find it strange they don't say a word about it. he opens the balcony door, guiding you through. the wind blows past the two of you, bumps rising on your arm.

the two of you often ventured out here. away from prying eyes. away from lingering gazes. some nights you would stand next to each other and let your hearts speak untainted words. after this conversation surfaces, you're not too sure how this place would be comforting anymore. seonghwa stops pacing after a moment, eyes meeting yours.

"san told me."

"what did he say?" you ask softly. you know. it would be foolish for you not to.

"y/n," seonghwa sighs. "he told me."

no.

"i mean, i just thought it was nothing. i thought you were freaked out seeing us like that but–"

no. no.

"–maybe it's more than that? is it more than that, birdie?" he stops pacing, looking to you. "am i more than that to you?"

the hollowness of your chest grows as he stands there, putting the pieces together. it was fine, everything was fine. you were okay with feeling this way for him. everything was supposed to be okay. should you lie? will it make him stop?

"i know what you're thinking. and don't," he holds up his hand, shaking his head. "don't you dare lie to me."

"we've been best friends since we were kids, hwa."

"don't do that to me." His voice cracks at the end. "please."

"san is just talking, trying to mend things over between the two of you. there's nothing more to it."

he shakes his head, "we always tell each other the truth, so i can tell when you're lying."

"we can't do this, hwa." you're not sure if he can hear your words over the wind. "i don't want to do this with you."

"so we just pretend it's nothing? i pretend that you don't like me more than a friend and you pretend that you never saw san fucking me? is that it? your bright solution?"

you hate this. it's becoming more tainted.

"seonghwa, please–"

"no," his voice rises, and he stops, tongue dragging across his lips. his words are calmer this time. "no. i waited over a week for you to come to me and say something but you didn't say a word. and i thought that you were just embarrassed, you know? i thought that was it so i decided to come see you myself. but when you looked at me, you were afraid. you looked at me with fear, birdie." the cracks are forming. "and that's when i knew. i knew that despite how much of an asshole choi is, he was not lying when he said that you were probably in love with me. just, please. how long?"

"i don't know."

"y/n–"

"i don't fucking know, seonghwa! i'm not lying. i didn't know until i saw the two of you and..." you look away from him to the city landscape. though you've always felt small, it's never been this apparent. "and i felt it. i felt it, and i didn't know how to react or what to do so i stupidly thought it was best to ignore it. hoped that it would go away."

"love does not just go away, birdie. not like that."

you look back at him, your lips growing drier as the wind gusts hit the two of you. his hands are fists, eyes flicking between yours. love does not just go away. he said that and yet why is he looking at you with everything but?

"push me away," you say. his face finally gives you some sort of emotion. brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted. "you didn't ask for this and neither did i. so tell me to go away. tell me you don't want to be friends with me anymore. tell me to leave."

"birdie–"

"tell me to fucking leave, hwa, or ill do it myself."

"go, then. just, go."

you close your eyes. "okay." there's no reason for you to look back at him, let yourself fall into a deeper hole. so you move past him, ignoring what you believe is a sob escaping his lips. you ignore it despite everything you've been through. you ignore it because you're not sure how you will ever be able to fix this.

sliding back into your chair, you stare at the glass on the marble top. is it your third? fourth? you told the bartender to cut you off at some point, but it all feels like a blur now. you feel a bit of the buzz, but it's still not enough to pull you away from your thoughts.

"you look broken."

"is that the pickup line you're starting with? must be a rough night."

his chuckle is surprisingly low, seeping into your ears. "not quite a pick up line, no. but you look afraid, hurt. not uncommon at bars, but yours looks different."

you still have not turned to him. "how so?"

"it looks like your world was taken away from you."

your eyes flick to him. the soft light of the bar makes his skin glow, eyes on yours. they're a deeper brown, a marking on his temple, fading into his eye. if it is a scar or a birthmark you're not too sure, but it makes his face only more interesting to look at. handsome is an understatement, the curl of his lips, lift of his brow making you look away. devilishly handsome men just seem to never leave you alone. fortunate for him though, your heart is too broken to jump into the bed of another.

so you tell him as such.

"if you're trying to fuck me just give up now. this sad, broken woman isn't going to cry into your arms."

"if i wanted that i would have gone to someone else, miss," he takes a long sip of his drink, humming. "just conversation."

"why?"

"you looked like you needed someone to talk to. but if I'm being presumptuous, tell me, i'll go away."

quiet.

"you're not far off."

"hm?"

"about my world falling apart, being taken away from me. you're not far off. my best friend found out i was in love with him and i told him to get pissed at me and leave. he never did. i was the one who ran. i was the one who ran, and yet here i am. drowning my heartbreak in whatever the fuck this drink is," you eyeball the glass next to you. "a whiskey sour, maybe?"

"you're right."

you hold your face in your hands. "and now i'm confessing my fucking woes to a stranger because i have no one else. everyone i know knows him, so they'd probably tell him what i'm doing, and he'll come over and yell at me for being irresponsible and call a taxi home for me and i'll have to pretend that i don't want him–" you stop in the middle of your rant, glancing to the side.

"i'm sorry."

he waves you off, "never apologize for your feelings. you needed to let it out. who am i to stop you?"

"just a bit shocked you haven't run yet."

he snickers this time, rolling his eyes. "you are quite something. you're pissed that someone might come here and force you back home. and yet you're telling me what to do with my time? a bit ironic."

"i…" you trail off. "fuck, you're right."

"thank you for thinking so," he teases. "and if i can, i'd like to comment on your dilemma. though i doubt the words of a stranger will do much, i hope i can be of some help."

"take it away, stranger."

he gives you a brief smile, before looking at the glass in his hand, thinking. "in my long life, i've had many heartaches and regrets. i've hurt myself as well as others along the process. but what i have learned is that letting your thoughts linger on their own only hurts more. so your choice of telling him was the right thing to do despite how it may have ended. and from what you're saying, he still loves you just the same. he's kind."

"waiting for the advice to kick in," you note, and he only laughs.

"he loves you. he would be a fool not to. there are few men who would do as you say if they didn't. i know this is the opposite of what you want, but speak to him again. he may be at another bar crying over you as you are over him. actually, i’m sure he is."

"he wouldn't cry over–"

"he would," the stranger interrupts, taking another sip. "if you listen to none of my words then listen to this: you are giving yourself no credit. he loves you. if your relationship is as special as you say, he will be crying at the end of the bar, swallowing his sorrows, just as you are now."

you swallow slowly. your mouth feels dry now, the alcoholic drinks somehow making you feel utterly sober. you push the glass further away, taking the last sip of the bottle of water in front of you. the stranger watches as you think.

"i'm not sure i'm ready for that. the confrontation, that is. i'm scared."

"and admitting that is brave in itself," he glances at the drink near you, waving the bartender over. "may i request another bottled water for the lady, and a coke for myself?"

the woman disappears down the bar after hearing the order. "i'm not usually this bad at drinking."

"i can tell. you've tended a few glasses already, love," he thanks the bartender, passing you the water. "it's cold, perhaps it'll wake you up sooner."

"drowning my sorrows, uh…" you blank on his name. "wait, did i just go on a rant without even introducing myself?"

"that you did."

if you could shrivel away into nothingness you would. "y/n. yourself?"

"kang yeosang."

“nice to meet you, kang yeosang,” you smile.

“likewise, y/n.”

“and thank you for the drink. you shouldn’t have.” you take a sip of the water. “i owe you.”

“do you?” he raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of coke. “then i ask only this: take care of yourself, and don’t listen to other strangers’ advice. and,” his eyes glance at the open bottle in front of you, hand moving over the top of the glass as he slides it closer to him. “don’t leave your other drinks out in the open, please.” he takes it away from you, “i saw a man pour something into it while you were gone.”

the buzz washes away at his words, “what?”

“that’s why i came over. he’s been watching you for a while now. i’ve already alerted the bartender, and the police should be here any moment now,” he covers the contaminated drink with a napkin. "I couldn't find the right moment to tell you, so i decided to let you speak while i watched your drinks."

insults at yourself begin to swirl in your head. how could you be so oblivious to it happening right in front of you? yeosang just stumbled upon it on his night out. if he wasn't here… you could only guess what would happen.

"is he still here?" your voice is lower now. body rigged.

yeosang pauses for a moment, before nodding. "yes. but he hasn't approached you since i've been lingering around you."

is it wrong of you to ask for him to stay?

"i won't leave until i know you're safe," he acknowledges the worried look in your eyes, a small smile gracing his lips. "we don't know each other well, but i'll keep my distance. if you don't mind it, of course. this situation is uncomfortable enough. i can leave you–"

"no!" your voice comes out louder than you'd like, your face warming briefly. "no. i want you to stay. if that's okay with you."

he nods. "it is."

the police arrive quickly, yeosang helping them identify and apprehend the suspect. he never leaves your side throughout the whole process, piecing things together that you haven't noticed at all. he keeps the same calm demeanor as before, giving the officers as much information as he can. you're more than grateful for his presence, soothing the long night you've had. eventually though, the police leave with the man.

the quiet air surrounding the bar is a bit unsettling now, knowing what you could have suffered. the two words you've wished to say to him throughout this ordeal are stuck in your throat. is it nerves? maybe. you were just never good with things like this. but still, he saved you. he didn't need to, but he did.

the thought makes the words come easier.

"thank you."

"not necessary," he waves you off easily. "anyone would have done something if they saw."

"but no one saw except for you. so i’m more than grateful. i don't know how to repay you–"

he shakes his head again. "no repayment. nothing. i've settled my thoughts now knowing you're safe. i do want to say something though. it may be overstepping my position as a little more than a stranger, but i do hope you stray away from the alcohol tonight. you're drunk, and it… may bother me a bit, knowing you're here alone."

the words of a stranger shouldn't make your chest float.

"alright."

time passes by fast as yeosang stands with you outside, the two of you watching the perpetrator being placed in handcuffs. though the police asked if you would like to ride with them and you explicitly stated no, yeosang offered to help you to the police station. pressing charges against a stranger on a night like this is the last thing you want to do, but having him attempt to do this to another innocent person would riddle you with guilt. you’re quiet throughout the small diatribe that the officer gives you, that overwhelming feeling again settling within you.

“must she go?” yeosang asks the officer, glancing over at you. “i was the one who witnessed it. there isn’t much for her to say other than she ordered a drink.”

“is that so? then are you willing to come instead?”

“of course. i’ll follow after you.”

the police officer thanks him again before leaving, disappearing into the oddly quiet night. yeosang looks you over, concerned. “would you like me to walk you to the train station?”

“that’s not necessary,” you say quickly. “it’s only a block or so away.”

he nods again. “well, please stay safe. don't,” he pauses, looking away. “don't follow strangers around. you seem to be sober enough, but still.”

“worried?” you ask, a bit cheeky.

“i am.”

there is no teasing in his voice, jaw tightening as he looks at you. conflicting emotions cross his gaze. you're not sure what to think of it yourself.

“you’re a stranger you know.”

he sighs, “i am.”

“can i have your phone number?” you ask. “just to let you know when i'm home safe. so you don't have to worry. and you can give it to the police if they need it.”

his smile is cheeky, the plush of his cheeks lifting. it makes the hard angles of his face softer, eyes rounder. you aren’t one to call men adorable, but there’s no other description you could think of. he digs into his jacket pocket, a sleek black phone appearing in his hands. without a response, he holds it out to you. you quickly type in your number underneath his quiet gaze, texting yourself. once confirming, you hand it back to him.

he stares at it for a moment, then hums. “perfect. don't forget about messaging me, y/n.” he tilts his head slightly, bowing. you do the same back, giving him one last glance before heading to the station. the itch of not looking back irks you, but you do so anyway. unfortunately in those brief seconds, he had already left the front of the bar. hm.

he must walk pretty fast.

–

you don’t message him.

it’s not like you promised the man that you’d do it, it was merely a suggestion. and he has your contact information, he can reach out if he'd like. once you arrived home that night you came to your senses. one - speaking to strangers about your personal problems should be saved for therapy - and two - you should not give said strangers your personal information after trauma dumping. the thought of you crying your heart out to him is embarrassing enough, you’re only glad you were too intoxicated to realize how embarrassing it was. sobriety may be in your future.

you push the cart down the tight aisle, careful not to push it into one of the shelves. you’ve left your job since telling seonghwa. but books have always been a home for you, so it took a bit, but you were able to find another small library placement not too far from your apartment. it didn’t pay as well since your position was based on seniority, but it’s enough for you to be comfortable.

you stop in one aisle, glancing down at the book in your hand before looking ahead. it is just your luck that you see the man of the hour.

he holds an identical copy in his hands, sunglasses tucked in his hair, resting on the top of his head. prescription glasses - this is your assumption - on the brim of his nose as he reads. his blond hair is as alluring as that night, the redness of his birthmark seen behind a few strands. his clothing is lightweight aside from the open brown trench coat; collared cotton button up, pleated pants, white shoes. a simple outfit and yet he stands out amongst the rest. your mind wasn’t making things up - his beauty is beyond what you can comprehend, just like your old best friend’s. hands flip through the book, lips slightly curved as he skims the pages. his soft brown eyes look up from his reading, meeting yours. you hope that he does not remember you, but recognition flashes in his gaze, cheeks lifting as he smiles. he lifts the glasses off his face, slipping them into the lining of his coat.

“it seems that you have gotten home well,” is the first thing that leaves yeosang’s mouth, book shutting. he places it back in its spot.

“i did,” there is no use lying to him that you couldn’t remember. the stillness of your body alone is enough for him to see the guilt hanging around you. “i’m sorry i didn’t let you know.”

“you had no obligation to a stranger,” he shrugs. “it would have been nice, but i didn’t expect much.”

“still, i should have said something,” you step closer to him, placing the book on the shelf. how awful that he smells really good too. sickening, even. “i was too scared to. after that night.”

his brows furrow, “scared? did i do something to upset you? or did someone else bother you?”

“no no,” you say quickly. “scared was a bad word to choose. maybe, embarrassed? i mean, i can’t believe i spilled my guts to a man that sat next to me at a bar on a random night,” you can feel your face warming. “i don’t think i’ll ever live it down.”

he smiles, shaking his head. “i told you it didn’t bother me. and i was glad to be your comfort, stranger or not. are you alright?”

he is still caring, even after you’ve decided not to message him. you nod, holding the book between your sweaty palms, “i am.”

“then all is well,” he steps around you. the wool of his coat brushes against your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. his perfume stuns you for a brief moment, grip tightening on the book. he glances at the shelves, before stepping out the aisle. you cannot help but think this may be your last chance of running into him — you’re not sure what reason you have to keep him around you for a while longer. but you step out the aisle, mouth ready to call out to him.

instead, your body almost collides with his, his hands wrapping around your upper arms to steady you. the touch is brief, though your stomach twists at his touch. he’s a bit cold, letting go once he sees you adjust yourself. he tucks a stray hair away from his face, cheeks lifted in a smile.

“this may be presumptuous of me, and i didn’t want to make any suggestions that night because of the situation. and i know you’re in a bad spot right now and it may not be a good time, but…” he clears his throat. “would you like to hang out? not a bar, not drinking. but a cafe maybe?”

your smile matches his, “yes.”

his small smile is endearing as he nods, looking away from you. “great.”

“good.”

he laughs, “seems like we’re both not good at this.”

“not at all. but at least we’re not good together.”

though he does not blush, his lips tremble, eyes scattering across your face as you say the words. perhaps he does not blush at all, but you can tell your words flustered him. he licks his lips, “i’ll message you, i’m free tonight.”

“so am i.”

“then it’s a date.”

he holds out his hand, and you take it, ready to shake. instead he lifts yours, his lips lightly brushing against the back of it. “a date.”

—

the air is calming between the two of you. shy glances back and forth, your fingers playing with the lining of your shirt, his dragging along the thin layer of shirt he wears. he is not cold, he told you this several times. his laugh echoes around the small cafe, cheeks lifting when he notices how loud he is. neither of you say much but it is plenty enough. he makes you forget about your heartache, your hurt. he shines rather brightly in the low light. you haven’t the need to focus on him fully, his presence effortless in comforting your heart. it is equally enjoyable and terrifying all at once. who would have though that after several dates you’d still feel terribly shy in front of him.

“can i see you again?” you ask after a moment of quiet laughter. it is something silly you’ve asked each time you’ve met up. it’s become a routine now, his smile too hard to resist each time you utter the words.

he takes a sip of his coffee. black. not something you’d choose for yourself, but he seems to enjoy it. it’s his second already. “of course. i hoped you would ask,” he admits jokingly, fingers pushing his hair away from his face. “i do enjoy being around you.”

“flattery only gets you so far,” you frown, though it is anything but irritation.

“it is only the truth,” he shrugs.

if your face could turn red it would at his words, it would. your lips enclose around the metal straw, its cool temperature soothing. “have you had any partners recently?”

he shakes his head, “not in a long time. relationships were never something i considered.”

oh.

you try not to show how that affects you, but it seems to be spelled out in the expression you make. he continues speaking.

“but i think i’ve changed my mind rather recently,” he adds, avoiding your gaze completely. “and if that person is still… mending themselves, i am willing to wait.”

“even if it is long? what if it’s years?” there is no teasing in your tone, now. you are undoubtedly serious. you enjoy yeosang, you enjoy him being around you. but you wouldn’t ever want to hold him back from something he wants. no matter how much it’d hurt you - that devastation you felt yourself was enough. having the kind man in front of you experience even a fraction of what you have felt is terrible to fathom.

“love,” his hand reaches out, covering yours. though he insists that he’s not cold, you can feel it on his skin. but the word that he’s just said, let slip from his lips. love.

he called you love.

“i will wait for you,” he does not look away from you. “i will wait years if i have to.”

“yeosang, we’ve known each other for only a few months,” you shake your head, “it’s ridiculous to hold yourself back from someone you barely know.”

his fingers wrap around yours, humming, “right? i, i’ve met so many people in my life. but relationships were something i just did not desire. but,” he laughs. “your presence might have changed it all for me.”

you could only giggle, placing your free hand against your face, holding in your embarrassment. you are not one to declare your feelings as forward as he could. after a couple of seconds of letting his words sink in, you look back at him. his gaze is so clearly unswayed, held tilted barely as it rests on his hand.

“okay.”

“okay?” his brow raises.

“okay, i’m okay with that.”

his smile only grows, “so am i.”

though the two of you have never uttered that you were partners, you are exclusively seeing one another in a sense. he often rested at your place – on the couch, never in your room. you never went inside his place, though you’ve seen the outside of it. a tall building, one in a district you’ve avoided your whole life. yeosang never bragged about how much money he earned, but he told you that he was wealthy. enough so that he only traveled once or twice a month for work. he said it was business but again, didn’t elaborate. at the time you should have questioned him more about it but he changed the subject before your mind could truly settle on it.

and one night, out of the blue, he invites you to his place. you decided to go to the convenience store just before, stepping inside the well-lit area, scanning the ramyeon shelves. a startled oh pulls your attention away from the assortment, looking to your side.

if it were possible for a heart to physically shatter, this moment would be it. choi san stands there, eyes wide, hands wrapped around a bag of chips. he looks nervous and worried, glancing back then looking at you. your smile is strained. you grab whatever is in reach, turning down the aisle and going to the register. the employee greets you but you can’t muster a response, hand gripping the curve of the counter. thoughts elsewhere.

you never thought you’d run into any of them ever again, especially since hongjoong told you yourself that no one really ventured in this neighborhood. you wish he were here now to distract you from your inner turmoil. you thank the employee with your eyes, not bothering to look around and exiting the store.

“y/n, please wait!”

you hear his voice behind you. running would be silly, and you’re an adult right? dealing with your issues in person, rather than running from them. that’s what you’re supposed to do. so despite the sorrow and hurt that is merely simmering at the surface, you look at san. he looks as handsome as he always does, though his eyes are moist now, hands wrapped around his bag. he stops once he sees you turned around.

“hi, san.” you say, “i have somewhere to be–”

“i didn’t think it through,” he starts promptly, not bothering to greet you properly. “i thought it was just another hookup, y/n. fuck, i mean, i didn't know he liked me like that. or had feelings that were more than just wanting to fuck. everyone around that place knows how i am, i just," san sighs loudly. his fingers trembled as he pushed them through his hair. "seonghwa is a good guy. one of the best i know. i'd never break his heart on purpose. i didn't know what to do anymore. i wanted to tell you what i felt so i was going to. and then you left the place entirely so i couldn't even talk to you about it and–"

"i don't blame you, san," you say softly, noticing his spiral. "i don't think he blames you either. he takes stuff like this hard, that's all. seonghwa doesn't hate you, he doesn't hate anyone. but i doubt you'd be the same if the person you like rejects you. it takes a while to get back to yourself. this is him taking that time."

he rubs his face, nodding at your words. "you think so?"

"we were best friends for longer than i can count. i know– knew, him better than i know myself. i'm more than sure."

“i didn’t know you had a thing for him, y/n. i said it at the time because i didn't know how to let him down easy. i really didn't know it was true.”

there it is. the conversation you’ve avoided for months now. the heartbreak that you’ve hidden so deeply inside of you. yeosang never mentioned it and neither did you. but seeing san, knowing that his hookup with seonghwa is what started it all. it’s not his fault, but seeing him again now, in front of you, makes it harder. you rub your face, closing your eyes.

“i didn’t know either, san. but it’s been a long time since it happened. we shouldn’t let something so long ago bother us now. i’m okay.”

relief seems to sink into him, “i’m sorry. and i’m sorry for telling him, it was shitty of me.”

“it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. things happen. but i’m okay now. it’s okay.”

“right, you are,” his gaze flicks to how your hand trembles as you hold your bag. “there’s so much more to say, but i don’t want to hold you up any longer. you probably have somewhere to be.”

“i do, but thank you,” you pause. “thank you for stopping me too. i hope you’re well. i hope you and everyone else at the place are healthy. send them my greetings.”

“i will,” he smiles, dimples intending his cheeks. san has always been a kind man. you’ve never had any ill will towards him, he just ended up in the middle of it all. “i’m sure seonghwa would like to hear that.”

–

your hair sticks to your forehead. makeup trickles down your cheeks, staining your shirt. your plastic bag grew too heavy for you to hold, sitting on the side of you as you stare out into the streets. you haven’t moved from the front of the market.

your phone ran out of charge long ago, tucked inside your bag. you tried to grab it, knowing that yeosang probably called, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. the incident with seonghwa was months ago, it was so long ago. you shouldn’t be this upset.

you shouldn’t be this hurt.

hearing his name after such a long time, you thought you’d be okay. you thought that you would handle it easily. but his name, along with seeing san? it was all too much.

is there something wrong with you? he didn’t die, he’s probably living well without you. and yet you mourn. your tears hidden beneath the rain, body shivering. you should try to get to yeosang. let him know you’re okay.

you should do that.

you look down at the sidewalk beneath you. people walk past. some have glanced at you, but none have pulled you from this. what is this? why can’t you describe it?

you’re cold.

“hey.”

you barely look up from where you are. an older man stands there, vaguely familiar. you think back for a moment – ah, the employee in the store. mustering up words is just too much effort now. so you meekly nod, water splattering against your face. his hand touches your shoulder and you tense up.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn't be out here alone.”

your lips tremble, nudging his hand away. he only tightens his grip, your eyes widening. your chest tightens, body unwilling to move. you've never been in such a situation, filled with too much fear to force your mind out of its despair. just as he begins to lean down, a loud sound fills your ears. you close your eyes, the ringing harsh against your temple. enough so that it consumes your thoughts.

you should call him.

the hum of a car stops in front of you. the door slamming should have startled you, but you’ve grown too numb from the sound to react. you feel those familiar cold hands on your cheeks. it’s enough for you to look up. the mark looks darker in this low light, brown against his temple, fading into the curve of his eyes. his thumbs rub your cheeks, eyes flicking between yours. neither of you say a word, but you feel how he pulls you into his chest. you cannot remember when the sobs began. but they engulf you, hands finally able to move, arms wrapped around his body as he pulls you into him. you’re too overwhelmed to say anything, but you hear him. you hear his words.

i’m here for you.

i know, i know.

it hurts a lot, i know.

let’s get you somewhere warm.

–

you sit on his sofa. he’s given you his clothing to change into, an older pair of sweats and sweater. he hasn’t touched you since bringing you back to his place, careful to avoid your skin. a cup of steaming medicinal tea sits on the small coffee table, cookies you love next to it. your eyes flick to the screen, television playing your favorite cartoon.

yeosang does not say a word as he cooks in the kitchen, humming every once in a while. he has not broken the silence and neither have you. your heart has settled down a bit, enough for you to speak. are you scared to start? yes. yeosang has never been once to pry, always allowing you your own space to say what you wanted. it’s something you’ve admired since you’ve met him. there was never any pushing from him. he let you open up yourself.

“it was san,” your voice is low. you’re afraid that he has not heard you at all, but his humming stops.

“the hookup?”

you thank him silently for his good memory. “yes. he… we ran into each other inside that convenience store. he said sorry for everything. then he said his name, and i…”

you couldn’t breathe.

“it hurt.”

“it did,” you murmur. “i thought it’d be fine, speaking to him. since it’s been so long, i thought i’d be fine. but i wasn’t, yeosang. it felt like the first day that i told seonghwa to never speak to me again. it just felt like too much.”

“you have yet to mourn what you’ve lost, love,” yeosang enters the living room, sitting on the couch across from you. “it will hurt for a while even if you’ve accepted that he was no longer in your life. he’s your best friend.”

“was,” you correct. yeosang doesn’t comment on that, continuing.

“it will take time.”

you hide your face, sighing. “and i’ve only just opened myself up to you because i was afraid of my hurt. i cannot believe i let you see me that way.”

“you know that that doesn't bother me. we care for each other, y/n. i hope that we can see each other at our best and at our worst.”

“that’s the thing,” you look up. “you’ve been seeing me at my worst this whole time, you haven’t even seen me at my best and yet you’ve stayed.”

yeosang looks at you, hand resting on his knee. he closes his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly. “that is because i haven’t told you all of what i’ve been dealt, y/n.”

you can feel that ill feeling slowly come back. he seems to sense it, quickly speaking.

“it is nothing against you, that i assure you. but this might not be the best time to say anything more. you are still hurt. i’d rather you not be overwhelmed with it all.”

“are you a criminal or something?” you joke, though there is a bit of curiosity within the jab. yeosang has not shown you anything negative so you cannot quite guess what he’s hiding. you haven’t seen his family yet or friends, so maybe it’s that? letting your mind wander will only make it worse.

“no.”

“yeosang–”

"i’m a vampire."

"and i am a fairy," you snort, rolling your eyes. yeosang thinks for a moment, eyes flicking over yours.

"i'd believe it since your beauty matches one of the fae, but your personality does not. there's not a conniving cell in your body, love."

“you’re joking,” your brows furrow, staring at him. he does not give you the usual small smile, nor does he laugh at your confusion. no, all he does is stare at you, waiting for a response. you can only look at him, eyes flicking over his face. oh, you’ve fallen for a man who lost his mind, then?

your luck just seems to continuously run out.

“you look like you’re going to run,” he says, attempting to reach you. you move away, and he does not try to chase you. he observes you as you stand from your spot, body tensing the more you look at him.

his beauty has always been something you’ve noticed, something that’s occupied your mind more times than not. but you’ve seen him eating, seen him drink coffee and swallow slices of pizza with you. from what you’ve learned of vampires (via various forms of media), they cannot stomach human food.

“how?”

he shrugs, “it has been a millennia, y/n, and i still don’t have the answer to that.”

“i mean,” you wave your hands around. “you’ve eaten food with me, you’ve had drinks with me. you’ve done all of that, and not once have i seen you drink blood.” your stomach turns at the thought. “yeosang, you’re joking with me, right? this is just a weird test or something?”

“what would i be testing on you, love?”

“i don’t know–”

“y/n, listen to me carefully.” he still does not move from his spot, but his eyes meet yours, his lips trembling slightly. “i was born as a vampire. i was not turned into this creature. i have met several of my kind over the centuries. most of us avoid one another since we are not really friendly. we stay on our own most of our lives. there may be times where you see one or two together, but rarely more than that. i am alone,” he says slowly. “i have not told a human soul what i am since i was a child. you are the only one who knows, on this earth.”

“because people would think you’re out of your mind?”

“that,” he agrees. “and because i am rare, one of less than a hundred. and humans are fond of dissecting things they do not understand. though my life has been long, i have still a lot of it left. i’d rather not die early.”

his words are just unreal. no matter how he explains it to you, you just cannot accept them as true. he seems to know that as well, sighing softly. “you do not believe me?”

“i believe that you think that’s what you are. have you ever seen a doctor for your condition?”

“y/n, as i have told you–”

“right,” you nod slowly. “the whole i’m-the-only-human-who-knows thing.”

“would you like me to prove it to you?" he does not wait for an answer, standing up from his spot and walking off. you do not follow, eyes widening when you see him come back with a knife in his hand. he sits down at the coffee table, legs folded. “this is the only way you’d believe me.”

“yeosang, i believe you,” you watch as he lifts the knife. “yeosang!”

his eyes meet yours briefly, smiling, “don’t worry.” he drops it, the chopping sound echoing around you. you scream, hands rushing to cover your eyes. the sound is horrid, there is no description of how the slicing of flesh resonates. the metal clings as it hits the floor. there is no howl of pain, no sound of him falling to the floor with the knife. nothing at all. you’re terrified to open your hands and see what he’s done.

“you have to look quickly before it heals, y/n,” he says softly. “please, do this one thing for me.”

“i swear, yeosang,” you hesitantly look at him, flinching once you see what’s in front of you. there are no splatters of blood. his hand is not on his wrist at all. but what you do see, oh, it’s indescribable. his amputated hand slowly slides back to his wrist stump. the sound is like bones cracking as it attaches itself. the two of you watch, skin sinking into each other, smoothing over until it appears that nothing has happened at all.

you’re stunned.

“you are all i can trust,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “this might be a lot to take in but–”

you raise your hand, “hold on.”

as moronous his confession is, it makes sense, oddly. sure, there’s no possible explanation for how he could possibly chop off his wrist, especially without as much as a scream from him. but what is his purpose - has he planned this all to entrap you? you care for him dearly, possibly love him. is this his goal all along, have you involved enough so you’re unable to leave his side? unable to make rational decisions? you from months ago would have ran out the room from a confession like this, but you just cannot. you look at your yeosang sitting on the floor, waiting for you to speak. he has not moved ever since you have, has not attempted to stop you from going anywhere. you’ve even tested it, taking a slight step back. still, not a muscle twitches.

there are several conclusions you can come to, but one is certain - yeosang at least believes that he’s a vampire. and that should utterly terrify you. but he is still your yeosang, even if he indulges in blood once in a while. and he just chopped off his hand.

for fucks sake, are you that desperate for human connection that you'll hang around a blood drinker?

are you mad?

“y/n?” he interrupts the quiet. “you can leave if you want to. i won’t stop you if this is too much.”

that’s your yeosang, ever so caring, ever so thoughtful.

“you’re not lying?” you ask again. “you’re a vampire?”

“yes.”

“a good one?”

his lip twitches, “that's subjective, but i try to be.”

“why are you telling me now?”

he looks away from you for the first time tonight, gaze out the windows. you haven’t had the chance to look around his place because you’ve been too stuck in your sorrow, but it is him. a penthouse, but him. the city looks into the apartment as he begins.

“after seeing you so destroyed tonight, i couldn’t let myself go another day without saying it. i should have told you so long ago, but i didn’t know how involved we’d be. i thought it would be a short time we’d see each other. but i enjoy being around you. there has not gone a day since we’ve met each other at that bar that i haven’t thought of you. and it is utterly terrifying. so hiding this secret from you… i could no longer do it. i needed to know that you were not scared of me before continuing to be around you.”

“how do you know i’m not afraid?”

his smile is small, not reaching his eyes. “i have seen true terror in my lifetime, y/n. i know it when i see it.”

“if i decided i didn’t want to be this with you? what then?”

“it would be hard, but i would let you go, y/n. you’re not trapped here, you’ll never be,” he rubs his face. “do you hear me, truly? you can leave now and never come back, and that would be the end of us.”

you don’t want this to end. in fact, the mere thought of never seeing yeosang again makes you ill. you care too much for him to just go, even with information like this. so, he’s a vampire. he drinks blood. there could be worse things, no?

you cannot even believe your own thoughts.

“this is fine,” you say aloud, nodding slowly. you think back to when you were outside of the store, when that older man began to bother you. you look at yeosang. he came within seconds of that happening, barely a minute passed. it wasn’t him who helped you, was it?

“did you hurt that old man?”

yeosang stares at you, eyes flicking between the two of yours. “no.”

“are you lying?”

“i did not hurt him, y/n. i grabbed him, yes, and pulled him away from you. i told him to never touch you again, to never touch anyone else again, or else i would hurt him,” he looks down at his hands. “i wanted to kill him, if you were going to ask that next. i wanted to very badly, but i didn’t. you needed me, and i couldn’t let anyone distract me from that.”

you believe him. despite the strange circumstances, you do. you take a step closer to him, his movements frozen. your hand reaches for his, the obvious cool temperature of his making more sense now. “thank you.”

he lifts your hand, lips pressing against the surface. “you’re welcome.”

things changed after that.

neither you nor yeosang bring up anything that occurred that night. he does not press you about san and you don’t bring it up at all. things have progressed slightly. his tenderness is never ending; hands caressing the soft skin of your hips, lips brushing against your neck and collarbone. there’s a bit of excitement when he does that as well – knowing his true nature. he hasn’t hinted that he wants to feed off of you. you know it is due to your fear, deep down. he drinks from blood bags stored in his freezer, heating them up in the microwave. he avoids you entirely as he does so, brushing his teeth and washing himself before settling in the same room with you again. you’ve told him he didn’t need to do anything like that, that you care for him as he is, but he confessed that it’s difficult for him to be around you after drinking, bloodlust at the surface. and he’d rather you not see him that way.

“alarmingly disturbing,” he notes, nose wrinkling at the movie poster. you merely roll your eyes, passing him his small cup of soda as you walk through the outdoor mall.

“i’m sure i saw you cry at the end.”

his eyes widen, “i cannot cry, you know that well.”

“yeah yeah.”

you insisted on him going with you after his confession that he’s never entered a theater. it is magical to be with someone when they’re doing something they’ve never done before. his soft eyes widening at the large screen, words mumbled into your ear at certain scenes. his hand still hasn’t left yours after it ended.

his fingers tighten around yours as he points at the decorations, “it’s the middle of january and yet the decor is still up from the holidays. i never celebrated much but,” he takes a sip of his soda. “it is heartwarming.”

“remind you of the movie?” you grin, and he only frowns. you laugh, nudging him slightly. “it was a pretty somber ending, i know.”

“they both followed different paths, but they met each other again. i…” he sighs. “i know it’s supposed to reflect a realistic path, but they could have been together. they both wanted it.”

“some things don’t work out even if they do want each other.”

his gaze slides to yours, and your smile slips slightly, already suspecting where his thoughts lie. you look away from him, “don’t give me that look.”

“what look?” his voice is smaller this time.

“you know what look i’m talking about.”

“y/n…”

“i can’t, not right now.”

“i’m not pushing you to say anything, you know that.”

“i know.”

“but i want you to settle your feelings. it’s not good to keep it all inside of you,” he stops walking, straw away from his mouth. his brows furrowed in concentration, thinking. “i cannot believe i’m about to say this.”

“yeosang…”

his fingers loosen slightly, but he does not let go. “i fear that my love for you is much more than what should be allowed,” his eyes are moist, unable to leave yours. “surrendering myself to you is a choice i have made, but it is quite mad, is it not? committing my heart to you without knowing what you feel about me. i know you like me, i know that. you wouldn’t let me be around you otherwise. i have now trusted you with my secret, with all of these things, and not once have i felt fearful of you telling someone. the only fear i've felt is losing you.” he shakes his head slowly. “you are a human. i have fallen for a human. a human who is heartbroken over a love that she has lost. i know this, and i stand here telling you that i love you. is it not stupid?”

it is not a question for you to answer, rhetorical even, but you decide to respond. “it’s a bit stupid.”

he laughs dryly. “it is.”

“but you have done it anyway. it’s stupid, but maybe even idiotic,” you go on, his expression worsening at your words. “you know what is even more stupid? me, watching you struggle to confess in front of me and not admitting that i feel the same way for you.” his eyes widened. you swallow slowly, blinking slowly. “we shouldn’t love each other this way, yeosang. not after that night, not after me breaking down from hearing seonghwa’s name.”

“we shouldn’t, love.”

“but we do anyway,” you smile. “stupid.”

“completely.”

his gaze settles on yours, before flicking down to your lips. your breath hitches at the glance, until he looks away. “i must warm up the car before you enter, i can be back quickly,” just as he is about to step away from you, you grab his arm. he does not move, even as you move closer.

“can we…”

his body trembles at your hand against the skin of his neck. “y/n…”

“it will be quick.”

his resolve is breaking the longer he looks down at you. his hand reaches up, pulling your face closer to his. "i would love to, y/n. but your heart still belongs to him, even if it’s small," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. he feels how your breath hitches, how your hold on him loosens. he would have pulled away but he knows you need this. knows you need to hear what he has to say. "i know you're still in love with him, y/n. pushing it deeper and deeper will only make it worse when you see him again. don't pretend in front of me, please."

you move your face away, eyes moving to his. you expected hurt, anger, sorrow. regret, even. but nothing like that meets your gaze. empathy. brows furrowed, lips parted. his thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that falls.

oh, you're crying.

you touch your cheek, swallowing slowly. "i thought it would go away."

"if only that were so easy," his face relaxes. "you have to go see him again."

"i can't do that."

"he's your best friend."

"was," you correct once more. "he was my best friend. then i pushed him away because i was afraid. i let my phone ring until i blocked his number because he wouldn't stop calling. i let him move on, yeosang. i let him go."

he presses his forehead against yours. you welcome the cool temperature of his skin, shivering slightly. "that's not letting him go. that's removing him from your life with force. he never wanted to leave your side."

"you don't know anything."

"i've seen seonghwa, pretty."

you still. “what?”

"i saw him not too long after meeting you. he was broken," he admits. you've known him long enough to tell when he's choosing his words carefully. for your benefit. "he was with a friend crying at the bar. weeping. his body shook. i didn't know who he was at the time, but it looked as if he was struck by grief. i planned on walking over to confront him, perhaps take away some of his burden, but then i heard your name slip from his lips. i've lived long enough not to believe in coincidences. he was sobbing your name. a man sobbing another's name with such raw emotion could not be angry with you. he was mourning the relationship the two of you had. i know i may be overstepping, but please see him. just one time, speak to him. i need you to."

no.

san saying his name in front of you tonight was enough to stun you. seeing seonghwa again… you cannot.

you won’t.

“no.”

his hand leaves your face. he presses a light kiss to your temple, your eyelids fluttering at the contact. in typical yeosang fashion, he says, “okay, pretty.” he makes sure you’re looking at him when he smiles, squeezing your hand as he pulls you along with him. his humming fills the silence as you walk, as if nothing happened.

you cannot help yourself.

“yeosang, you’re not upset? about any of this?”

"why would i be?” his brow raises.

you’re not sure how to answer that.

he continues, “i am yours, y/n. that is why i am so persistent on you seeing him. i don't want you to live in regret being with me when the man you also love is not too far away."

"i don't want to leave you." and it's true. you've spent the last few months with him, by his side. having him ripped away would only make your mental condition worsen. yes, you shouldn't depend on another's presence for comfort so deeply and you're learning slowly not to, but leaving him now will only make it worse. you love him without ever uttering the words. you love him more than you can describe. "i can't leave you."

"listen to my words carefully, love," he stops moving, looking up at you. "i am not leaving you. i will never dream of it. i am in love with you, y/n. i've never said it before tonight i know, but i am. and i do not plan on ever leaving your side unless you want me to, understand? so i don't mind, if something happens between you and seonghwa, i don't mind it."

“nothing is going to happen.”

he nods slowly, “alright. shall we go?” he gestures to the guards in front of you, the sounds of stores dropping their gates and locking their doors. “we’ll discuss this more at a later time. i can make you something when we get back.”

that night is the last time he has ever pushed you, though slightly, into confessing your feelings to seonghwa, and your apology. hongjoong is elated when you tell him of your new relationship status, though you could see the slight worry dwelling as well. he knows as well as yeosang how badly your heart is hurt. you trust yeosang not to hurt you - he has never done anything remotely close to battering it. but that’s not what they’re both worried about.

his words linger. the two of you flourish in your relationship, though he has never once let his lips touch yours. you’re not sure if it’s his gentle nature or if he does not want to touch you that way until you’ve settled your feelings, but it does sting a bit. each time you initiate he turns his cheek for your touch to be placed there.

the intimacy avoidance just continues to grow.

after one of his after-feeding showers, you sit at his counter. head resting on your folded hands, watching the world just outside this apartment. too consumed in your own thoughts. you don’t bother leaning into his touch when his lips kiss the back of your neck. thumb rubbing the back of your arm. you don’t flinch at all, that in itself is concerning enough for yeosang to stop at the fridge.

“y/n? are you alright?”

“fine.”

he closes the fridge, moving around the counter to stand in front of you. he wears a loose graphic tee you’ve gifted him, his sweatpants that you wore that night covering his legs. his head tilts. you’ve always found that habit of his endearing, but right now you’re too annoyed and frustrated to have it affect you. his frown deepens when you don’t meet his eyes.

“pretty girl.”

those words almost get you. you close your eyes now, moving your head to rest on your hands instead, face hidden. “fine, yeo.”

the guilt of this situation begins to riddle within you. there is no obligation for him to do anything with you and you’d never force the situation, but your own desires are sitting at the surface. yeosang walks around the table, his hand brushing over your skin, draping himself over your hunched over body, it’s comforting, his sweet scent wrapping around you. you feel the brush of his nose against the back of your ear, breath tickling your skin. you tense.

yeosang stops, though he does not let you go. “you’re upset with me?”

“i’m not.”

“i can’t read your mind, but i can tell when something’s up, y/n. did i do something?”

“yeosang,” you sigh, body trembling when you feel the brush of his lips on your earlobe. unable to take the closeness without your mind wandering elsewhere, your chair slides harshly against the tiles. you stand up and move away from him, fists tucked to your sides. his brow furrows as he looks at you, head tilting. “i can’t concentrate when you’re that close.”

“okay, that's fine. but we can’t move forward if you don’t tell me what’s upsetting you,” he takes the spot you were once in, sitting on the edge of the stool. his legs are apart, fabric tight against his thighs. leaving nothing to the imagination.

oh how your suffering continues.

“are we moving too fast?” he asks after a moment. “should we take a moment to think this through?”

“no!” your voice is louder than you’d like, the teasing of a grin on his lips. “no, we don’t need to go slower than we already are.” you stop, sighing. “i don’t know how to say it.”

“you want me,” he says simply, taking a sip of your water. “since you said ‘slower than we already are’, you want us to take a larger step in our relationship. am i correct?”

flustered at his quickness, you nod. he hums, thumb rubbing the condensation of the small glass cup. your gaze follows his movements, room temperature increasing by the second. you only look away when yeosang speaks up again.

“it’s not like i don’t want you, pretty,” he places the glass on the countertop, looking at you. “do you know how difficult it is for me to not touch you? i am a predator, my smell is heightened. everytime i’m in a room with you all i smell is you, all i want is you,” he says simply, laughing at the expression forming on your face. “it’s not all i think about, but it’s very prominent in my mind.”

“then what’s wrong?”

his smile wavers, “you know what’s wrong, pretty girl. i said it when we confessed to each other. i need you to speak to him again.”

“yeosang, i told you how i felt.”

“i know, and i accepted your choice. but i just,” a long exhale escapes his lips. “i want you so badly, so desperately, but i cannot move forward until you settle your own feelings with seonghwa. i don’t want you to think i’m forcing you to do anything because that’s not my intention at all. i’m sorry if the thought crossed your mind about me not wanting you sexually because i truly do. but you’re not fully here with me, y/n. and i fear you never will be unless you see him again. i don't want you to live with the regret of what could have been.”

you hate it. you hate that you want to accuse him of manipulating you into a conversation with seonghwa, though he is not forcing it upon you. you thought you could hide your feelings, thought that with time, you would no longer think of him because you have the man in front of you. but you have. you haven’t stopped thinking of him since you ran into san. it is like he’s embedded himself in your brain. you thought you’d be okay enough to move forward with yeosang, love him with everything you have, but you can’t. he’s right. it wouldn’t be fair to him if you let this feeling continue.

yeosang lets his words settle within you.

“okay.”

“okay?” his brow raises.

“i think i’m ready to talk to him.”

he looks at your eyes, nodding slowly. “it will be good for you.”

the question still lingers, though; what’ll be the outcome? what if seonghwa breaks you - what if he repairs you? what if at that moment, you forget about yeosang, forget about all of this? you can’t do that to him. you love him more than you can describe, but feelings can change in a moment.

“y/n.”

you’re not sure when he stood up, coming closer to you. he holds your head in his hands, eyes flicking between yours. “i love you too dearly for me to be upset if you left me for him.”

“how did you…”

oh. you definitely said that all out loud.

“i don’t want anything to happen,” you whisper. “something could happen.”

“it may. but i myself, i am not…” he thinks for a moment. “i wouldn’t mind opening this relationship for you, if your feelings match one another's.”

now this is something the both of you have never discussed. he picks up on the alarm in your expression, continuing. “i never really desired anyone like this before. i’ve fucked, yes, but relationships didn’t really happen for me. that is something i’ve glossed over a bit in the past,” he looks away. “my relationships consisted of me only having sex with another, but not really a partnership. nothing that i would consider to be a full blown relationship. but with you, i wouldn’t mind sharing you. you are too wonderful for me to ever deny your desires for humans. there are some things that i’ll never be able to give you,” his hand brushes against your cheek. “like warmth. and someone to grow old with, a child. i will remain this age and you won't.”

that thought lingered in your mind as you've spent time with him. being a vampire isn't something you want for yourself, even if you love yeosang dearly. you're not even sure how that process works because you didn't desire it so you never asked. but opening your relationship? you never thought about being polyamorous.

“this is confusing,” you murmur. he presses a kiss to your forehead. “i don't know yeosang, this is a lot to take in.”

“it is,” he agrees. “i'm here for you if there are any questions.”

the conversation turns away from seonghwa a bit as you have an open conversation with one another. yeosang explains how he does not really have a label for himself, living his immortal life with eyes open. you yourself have attraction to all sorts of people, fitting for how yeosang views himself. it is odd that though you two haven't spoken about it, you're so similar. he also explains that he does not see himself seeing anyone but you in your lifetime, and insists that he tell you if something changed. you aren't quite sure how you'll handle the seonghwa feelings, if he even considered your own after all this time. yeosang only assures you that whatever you decide he will accept, whether it be a polyamorous relationship, monogamous with either him or yeosang, or nothing at all. his acceptance is astonishing, but he only explains that his long life has told him not to worry about small things like this.

if only you could say the same.

yeosang does not make any sort of move towards you, holding you close as you sleep in his bed. the long day brings exhaustion to settle on your shoulders. soon enough, in the cool embrace of yeosang, you fall asleep.

—

the cold chill seeps into your wool coat. yeosang insisted that you wear your thickened sweater while you were out and about, but you ignored his worried gaze and told him you'd be back soon enough. but now that you stand outside the café, hands tucked into your pockets as you wait for it to open, you regret ever not listening to his advice. you can imagine him now, soft lips protruding from their usual small smile, nose flared and brows tight with concern. the mental image only makes your own lips lift.

“he was right about the temperature,” hongjoong's eyes peer between the thickened cotton scarf wrapped around his neck and forehead. he's covered completely from head to toe in clothing his partner made for him, rosy nose the only sliver of skin shown. it's endearing to see him loved this dearly, knowing that he's sought out someone for much longer than you have. he digs into his pocket, handing you his spare mittens and a heat packet. you thank him, slipping your hands into the soft material.

“think it's an immortal thing to predict the temperature?” he asks, whining when you lightly hit his calf with his boot. “what!”

“i told you not to speak of it in public,” you discussed it with yeosang about telling your best friend. he was a bit hesitant at first, but agreed. hongjoong believed it much easier than you had, nodding in content and murmuring something about yeosang being a bit too beautiful and kind for a human. it was ridiculous reasoning at the time, but you were glad he believed you. hiding it from him would have weighted on your mind.

“I barely said anything,” he shoots you a glare. “but seriously, you should have grabbed a scarf.”

“i didn't think they'd be closed at 8am on a saturday!”

“you should have checked,” hongjoong whines, stepping closer to you. he pulls you into his side, arm wrapped around your shoulder. it’s not enough to subside the freezing temperatures, but you find it endearing nonetheless. “i used to hate it when customers waited outside just before opening. started off my day wrong.”

“we can walk around or something,” you murmur, and he laughs, nudging you slightly.

“it’ll be fine, we’re not staying long anyway.” he looks around, his laugh disappearing swiftly. you look over your shoulder to see what's caught his attention, but he turns your body away, forcing you to look the opposite direction.

“joong, what the hell?”

“it's seonghwa.”

your throat tightens up. seonghwa? he's here? fear begins to climb in you. you haven't readied yourself to approach him. it was going to happen soon, but not now. not early morning, body shivering from the brisk air. not when you're still afraid to speak to him. hongjoong moves you further away from the store. you would thank him if you could.

“hongjoong?”

seonghwa's sweet voice carries through the air. hongjoong hesitates, looking at you. he does not say a word, but his eyes tell it all. should i ignore him? should i let you go and i speak to him alone? they're still friends, that you know. you encouraged hongjoong to stay friends with him, your hurt was never his. but now, here you stand. you can either face it, deal with it, or run away again. no one would scold you for it, protecting your feelings. but how much longer can you run?

you shake your head at his questioning eyes. he settles on you for another moment, before turning around. you follow his lead.

seonghwa is as beautiful as he always is. beanie pulled over his head and covering his ears, black hair barely peeking from beneath. glasses likely tucked away in his bag. he matches the gloomy morning, long navy coat, black boots. the slight flush of his cheeks due to the low temperature. he smiles, and your heart races. his gaze moves from hongjoong’s, shifting to you.

his eyes widen, flicking over your face. eyes, nose, lips, hat, body, eyes again. his lips part, a sigh leaving them. his brows furrow, hand clenching, then relaxing. you've seen this happen before. that day on the roof, the last time you saw him. the look in his eyes is different though. it is not filled with hurt. confusion, worry.

you’re not sure what emotion has settled in his gaze.

“birdie…?” his voice cracks, looking at hongjoong briefly. how that nickname almost breaks you completely.

“hwa,” your lips tremble, but you force them to smile anyway. “hi.”

“hey,” he drags the word, blinking quickly. “hi.”

“the café is open, i'll grab a few coffees,” hongjoong looks around seonghwa. “be right back, alright?” be looks between the both of you, before leaving. the air only thickens as you two stand here alone. your rub your fingers on the hot pack in your gloves, gaze on the ground.

“i didn't think i'd ever see you again,” he admits. “it's been a long time.”

“it really has,” you agree. awkward. you were never this awkward with him. the two of you walk around the issue, the uneasiness only growing. “i–”

“i'm–”

you speak simultaneously. his cheeks darken. “you can go first.”

“no, you. i’ve said plenty since we last spoke, didn't i?”

a smile appears, though it doesn't reach his eyes. another cloud leaves his lips as he sighs, hand tugging on the loose strap of his bag. “did i fuck up back then? did i hurt you so badly that you didn't want to deal with me anymore, birdie? is that why you wanted to leave me alone?”

how easily he lets the nickname roll off his tongue. as if it hasn’t been over half a year since you’ve seen each other. as if you didn’t remove him from your life. but no. you didn’t want to leave him. you never did.

you shake your head, “never. i couldn't handle it all, i couldn't handle the way you were looking at me. it was a lot.”

“how did i look at you?”

“like you pitied me. like you were about to tell me how you felt, and i,” you weren't ready to hear his rejection. “i was scared. i didn't think that my feelings for you would be told that way. i wasn't ready for it.”

“so you then decided that it was best that you never deal with it at all?” he frowns, brows furrowing. “you didn't let us talk it out, and you ran from me. you didn't let me say anything else.”

“i messed up. i was too insecure to hear what you had to say.”

“want to go to the park for a bit?” he gestures behind the two of you. you take out your phone, sending hongjoong a quick message that you’ll be gone for a while. he sends a thumbs up back. likely aware that this was going to happen anyway.

you two walk next to each other, your hands tucked in your pockets, rubbing the heat pack. seonghwa glances at you, worry about his features. he does not say it, probably due to the situation, but you can tell it’s at the tip of his tongue.

“you look cold.”

oh, so he does say it.

“i thought we’d be out here for a few minutes,” you admit. seonghwa’s lips lift slightly.

“you are always underprepared.”

“i really am,” you shake your head. you should have grabbed that coat like yeosang asked. the two of you walk a bit further, finally arriving at the park. it’s a place the two of you have spent plenty of time at on breaks or excursions, from children to adults. seonghwa wipes off the seat of a swing, gesturing for you to sit. you do, thanking him as he takes the spot next to you. the sun is peeking above the clouds now, temperature rising slowly.

"i didn't know how i felt until you were gone, birdie," his hands are wrapped around the chains of the swing, eyes glued to the snow beneath your feet. seonghwa always radiated confidence, sureness. it was rare that you've ever seen him so vulnerable. so afraid. it makes your heart ache knowing that though it was not entirely your fault, you cause some of his anxiousness. "i was too forward when we spoke about it. overwhelmed, i think. i was so heartbroken over san that i didn't take your feelings into consideration. i let my thoughts get to me. i made you close up, i made you run. and i can tell you're about to interrupt me but just let me say this okay birdie? give me this one thing."

you nod, holding back your words.

"i fucked up when i confronted you. you were right when i didn't want you to be. i let myself get lost in the attention of the guy that i liked. but i think, no, i know that losing you made me see what i've really lost. i lost my best friend, and the one person in this world that has been by me my whole life. i was blind, i think. wait, is that right to say?" He curses himself, taking another breath. "for fucks sake, i thought id practiced this enough to say it right but it just doesn't make sense."

he peeks through his covered face, eyes softening when they meet yours. "i'm in love with you, birdie."

you shake your head, blinking quickly. "you're–"

"i'm not letting you do that," he interrupts with swiftness. "i'm not letting you say that my feelings aren't real when i know they are. it's been months of me thinking about it. this isn't some sudden epiphany. you're not a rebound to me. i wouldn't do that to you, i care too much to even consider that. not that you have to accept my feelings," he adds in. "you can tell me to fuck off and i’ll do it. a little teary-eyed, but i’d still do it."

“seonghwa.”

“i just,” he swallows, “if you don’t want anything like that with me, it’s okay. i just can’t lose you again. it’ll take time, but i’ll move on if you don’t want me that way. we can still be best friends. or at least something. i just… i can’t lose you again.”

yeosang's declaration repeats in your head over and over as you decide how to respond. your heart and head are fighting one another. there's no doubt in your love for yeosang, not even slightly. and he was right – you still love seonghwa no matter how many times you try to push the feelings away. him confessing this to you now, how does that make you feel? and how will he react once you tell him about your partner now? not taking the leap now when you're so deep into it all will only lead to regret later. and you've done enough of that the past few months to last a lifetime.

"i’m still in love with you, seonghwa," you whisper. "i thought i would get over it but i haven't. it scared me how attached i am to you, especially after a while. maybe the years have caught up to me, i’m not sure. but i still love you."

he opens his mouth to speak but you hold out your hand, stopping him. "i can't continue this conversation though, without telling you."

his brows furrow. "tell me what?"

"during our time apart i met someone, hwa," you look at him, his face crumbling immediately at the information. "i met him and i fell in love with him. and i know it hasn't been that long but it's serious. i can't imagine my life without him now."

he nods slowly, "it was presumptuous of me to think you just stayed stagnant this whole time. im sorry–"

"wait, seonghwa. yeosang and i, well, he told me to come to you. he knows how i feel about you and thought i should see you in person again to figure things out. and he is so considerate of me and my feelings, as well as your own. i don't know how to say this," you swallow, closing your eyes as you say the next words. "he knows i’m in love with you and encouraged me to pursue you while still being in a relationship with him. he doesn't mind me loving you and him at the same time. do you understand what i’m saying, hwa?"

he nods slowly, "...yes."

"and as you just said, i don't want to be presumptuous and think that you would be okay with it because it's a lot for someone to consider. it was a lot for me to even think about because i would never want to hurt either of you. if we were to decide that we would like to continue on in a romantic sense, i’ll still be dating yeosang while we're together. and vice versa. i want you to think about what i said to you and consider it before anything else is said, okay?"

"what i decide?" he repeats.

"yes. and then we will take it from there, whatever you decide seonghwa. but i just want to let you know that i love yeosang too much to leave him, if your thoughts start moving in that direction. i'll never break his heart."

“i understand,” he says simply. he digs into his pocket, glancing down at his phone. “your phone number? it’s still the same?”

you nod, and he mimics the movement. he stands up from the swing, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “okay. i, just give me a few days, y/n? just some time to figure this all out.”

“that’s fine,” you smile, and he smiles back. you stand up from the swing and without another word he pulls you into him, hands wrapping around your torso. his body is trembling as you hold him back, his face tucked into the curve of your shoulder. as quick as he holds you he lets go, giving you one last look before leaving the park.

seonghwa doesn’t call for over two weeks.

it worries you - he did tell you that he’d contact you soon. it hurt that there isn’t as much of a greeting sent to you, but it makes sense. you confessed to him that you were in love with someone else and said that your partner was okay with it. that could confuse anyone. so despite the circumstances you hold out hope. yeosang comforted you once you told him what happened - made you your favorite soup and desserts. it was a lot when you arrived at his apartment. not on the brink of a breakdown like before, but it took a lot out of you to suddenly have him in front of you. to confront those feelings head on without preparation.

you're resting your head on yeosang's thigh when he messages you. it's pretty simple, just a few words.

hwa: can we meet up? with your partner too.

you look up at yeosang and he's already looking down at you. his focus turns to your phone when you show it to him, brow lifting. “both of us? think he's considering it?”

“maybe,” you look at the message, hovering over the text box. “he could just be letting us know that he doesn't want anything like that.”

“he could do that without me,” yeosang points out. “there wouldn't be any reason for me to come.”

“right,” you sigh. “why am i scared to message him back? are you okay with this, yeosang? seriously okay with all of this?”

“my love,” his hand resting on the side of your face, tilting it ever so slightly. enough for your eyes to settle on his. his thumb slowly strokes your skin. “in what ways could i convince you that i am all for you? that there is next to nothing that would make me change my mind about this? you are my happiness. i have never been more okay.”

you lean into his touch, “you always know what to say.” you open the conversation, texting back.

you: i'm available and he is as well. lmk ♡

hwa: friday? joong told me you didn't work that day and either do i. if yeosang is available too.

you look up at him, and he nods.

you: yep yep, i'll see you. at the old café, right?

hwa: the only place birdie ♡

“done?” yeosang asks, finger still stroking your cheek. you nod, and he hums again, moving off the couch. he moves your head softly to the cushions where he just sat, walking over to the fridge. you never open it, watching as he grabs a blood bag.

yeosang is careful as he opens it. grabbing scissors specifically for this task, sliding it against the plastic. his hands move slow as he pours it into the small container. you never bother him as he does this, pupils dilated, locked in his own world. he never told you to not speak to him, but it felt like you couldn't interrupt the routine of his. he is already on edge whenever he does so.

you flick through the channels, until a loud splat pulls you from your surfing. you stand without thinking twice, running over to the kitchen. red covers the floor tiles, splattered against the fridge and covering the legs of the table. the harsh smell of blood fills your noise as you step back, running to the closet to grab his mop. yeosang grabs a paper towel when you come back with the device. just as you're about to help wipe it up he grabs the pole of it, stopping you in your spot.

“it's blood,” he whispers, eyes closed. “my pretty girl, would you mind going back into the living room?” his words are strained as he says it.

“yeosang-”

“now,” his eyes open, shifting to look at you. you’ve never seen his gaze look so odd. the wood cracks beneath his hold, his nose flared. you waste no time, grabbing your bag off the chair and running towards the exit. yeosang does not stop you, though you are sure he hears your frantic panting as you slip on your shoes, grabbing your coat before running out the apartment. leaving him alone to deal with the mess.

—

it's monday.

three days since you left yeosang alone.

you were petrified.

seeing yeosang that way, almost animalistic as he held himself from doing anything more – any reasonable person would be afraid, right? anyone would run from the situation entirely, not let it escalate further. this is not like a movie, you won't survive because of his adoration for you. you did not see his eyes because he hid them from you. but it wasn't a wild guess. he wasn't himself at that moment.

or, he was. it's just not something you've experienced yourself.

none of this is okay.

as you stare at your phone, his name appearing across the screen, a small heart next to his initials, your own aches. it isn't his fault, what happened. he did what he needed to do. you trusted him enough to control himself. to hold himself back from his own thoughts as the blood filled his nose. but right then, you weren't too sure. you were scared of yeosang.

admitting it only makes you feel worse.

you open his messages, several sent over the past few days.

i’m sorry.

i shouldn't feed when you're around, i made a mistake.

please answer my calls, dearest. please let me explain it to you.

i am afraid that you're afraid of me now.

i love you.

it hurts, reading them over and over. you haven't mustered the courage to listen to the voice-mails. you know yourself. you'd take off running to his apartment, not caring about your own feelings, soothing his own. it'll only lead to something like this happening again. and you're not sure you'll be able to accept the second time. or live, frankly.

“fuck you,” you murmur at yourself, holding your forehead in your hand. “call him, y/n. call him and let him speak to you.”

despite the words said aloud, despite the way your thumb hovers over the dial button, you close it completely. you grab your bag and bus card, locking the doors of your apartment.

you haven't told hongjoong what happened. he'd make sense, he'd tell you that if you're afraid now at something like blood spilling, it'd only get worse. you'll find yourself in a situation you wouldn't want. and he'd be right, partially. you will find yourself again, around him when an incident occurs. and you'll have to decide again, if you trust him enough to stay with him.

you step onto the bus, sending the driver a small smile as you scan your pass, sitting down.

yeosang explained to you simply at the time, to stay away from him when things like this happen. at that moment you weren't thinking, your over helpful nature taking over. it was your fuck up approaching him like that. but there will be times it will happen and he wouldn't be able to tell you to go away.

what then?

—

the door swings open before you get the chance to knock.

yeosang stands there. his clothing is barely on his figure, loosely thrown against his body haphazardly, barely leaving anything to throw imagination. blonde locks every which way, likely due to him running his fingers through it again and again. if it were possible for him to have eyebags you would have seen them, usually brown eyes slightly lighter in color. his eyes flick over you, his hand pulling the door open farther.

“my friend is over,” yeosang's voice is hoarse, blinking slowly. “i smelled you when you entered the building, but he didn't leave quickly enough. he'll be out of here soon.”

you hesitant to enter, already filled with anxiety from this encounter. yeosang's face breaks at the fear in your expression. there is nothing you can do to hide it – open book as always.

“his name is wooyoung, he's a vampire. he's a bit younger than i,” yeosang glances behind him. “but i trust him. he is one of few that i do.”

you trust yeosang. you do, aside from the fear. you nod simply, taking off your shoes and entering.

you spot the vampire packing up his things. he does not turn around as he does so, shoving items into his duffle bag. his appearance closely resembles yeosang's in stature, though he is a bit leaner, a black head of hair. he zips up the bag, throwing the strap on his shoulder as he turns. his beauty is not shocking from what you've experienced with yeosang. moles decorate his skin, slightly tan. his head tilts, eyes traveling over you.

it is not in appreciation.

“you are the human that frazzled yeosang,” his smile is bright and wide, though the warm greeting does not reach his eyes. “interesting that you are quite unremarkable.”

“another word of offense and i'll kill you myself,” yeosang murmurs, eyeing him from his spot near you. “leave, now.”

wooyoung rolls his eyes. “fine. but remember my words, hyung. i'll be around town for a while if you need me. goodbye, human girl. make sure to keep your window locked,” he steps past you, door slamming once he exits his apartment.

the air is solemn between the two of you. you don't blame his friend for insulting you, in fact, you'd probably do the same if places switched. but still, it did sting. quite painfully. you sit where his bag just was, looking down at your hands. it has never been awkward with him. you were able to solve simple arguments with ease this whole time. communication has never been your strong suit, but his ease of speaking helped you gain the confidence to speak up for yourself. though now, it seems as if all the progress has faltered.

“i should have warned you how i am when my mind shifts,” yeosang says softly. you watch as he sits at the kitchen island. he hasn’t looked away from you despite your hesitance to look at him in the eyes. “it was my fault that you ran away.”

“i should have left you alone. i slipped up.”

“you don’t have to blame yourself for this, y/n,” he shakes his head. “i haven’t been around humans this closely. i forget that you aren’t used to how i am when i’m hungry. i could have hurt you if you took my words for granted. i am thankful you listened when you did,” he admits, looking away. “i can control myself well, but i didn’t expect that scent to hit me so strongly. i messed up, you didn’t. you did the right thing.”

“i ignored you for days because i was scared. of you, of what you are,” you hate saying these words to him. you hate that you have to explain how you feel about it. but there’s no other way to continue if you don’t tell him. “it took me some time to let those feelings settle before i had the courage to even appear in front of you. your friend, wooyoung,” his eyes twitch at the name, but you continue. “i can tell he doesn’t like me. it makes sense, since i’ve ignored you for so long now. i’m sorry.”

“you don’t need to apologize, y/n.”

“but i want to. i want to because i can’t lose you, yeosang. i let myself dwell in my emotions again without telling you. i ran away from the problem instead of confronting it,” it is not something you’ve moved on from. “i did it again.”

“i would have went over to your home eventually,” he admits, a sly smile on his lips. “warning you beforehand, of course. but i was never going to let you slip away without an explanation. i know you care too much, and i know i care too much. neither of us would walk away from this without at least a few minutes of conversation exchanged. but,” he rubs the back of his neck. “are you still afraid of me? honesty, please.”

“i don’t know. right now, i’m okay with you being in the same room with me.”

“you haven’t looked at me since you’ve walked in, pretty girl.”

you look up from your hands. his brown eyes warm when they meet yours. you’re not afraid of this yeosang, of the sweet man in front of you. but you are somewhat scared of when he shifts into his feeding mindset. he stands, and you watch as he crouches in front of where you sit. yeosang brushes his fingers across your cheek, hands shaking, eyes flicking between yours rapidly. somewhere in your body is telling you that you should run away. But the look yeosang is giving you stops you from saying anything. he hesitates, touching the corner of your eyelid. Your eyes are moist, and you shiver under his grasp.

"how does it feel?" he asks softly.

"like I should push you away, like, like you're going to hurt me." you admit under your breath, eyes down. he leans, meeting your avoidance.

"i won't hurt you, pretty girl. i won't do anything to hurt you, please know that. do you trust me?"

you nod. he leans forward, eyes moving from yours to your lips. you clutch the chair underneath you, closing your eyes.

*are you scared of me?*

You're ripped from your thoughts, and you open your eyes. yeosang is centimeters away from your lips, his breath fanning your lips. you move one of your hands off from the chair, touching his chest. your fingers stretch out, feeling the smooth skin underneath them. you twist your fingers, trailing the curves of his muscle. your curiosity getting the best of you.

“y/n,” he breathes, chest rising and falling quickly. your mind is telling you to run, but you don't. not now. not after you're this close. you touch his adam's apple, and he gulps. he opens his eyes, their red gaze trained on yours. you stop, shocked at the change.

“i can't, i can't handle being this close to you without…” His words trail off, hands now on the back of your neck, playing with the small hairs. his hand seemed stuck in its place, not daring to move. “if you don't stop, i won't be able to stop myself from fucking you into the chair.”

you drop your hand from him, and he groans at the loss of contact, not moving. He lifts his free hand, touching your thigh. his hand travels up slowly, and you quiver, the warning signs gone within a moment. he stops at the zipper of your jeans. You close your thighs around his grasp, and his lips curve devilishly.

“do you want me to ?” he leans close, his lips brushing against the soft skin by your neck. he trails his tongue along the curve of your neck, biting lightly. “you taste so good.”

you lean into him, his lips moving up your neck, closer to yours. he smiles against your cheek, and you feel the corner of his lips touch yours. your grip on the chair tightens, almost impossibly so. he moves closer, their soft touch brushing against yours.

your eyes lock onto his, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. you know when he’s conflicted, the furrowed brows, the concerned gaze. often you could sense the conflict within him, the fear that something beyond his control might destroy the two of you. at that moment, none of it mattered.

“i want you to want me, y/n," his tone is desperate now, “please tell me you want me.”

his yearning hands in the air. your heart swells with a mix of emotions — desire, a bit of fear.

“i want you, yeosang.”

his lips smile against your skin, anticipation as his lips meet yours. his breaths are heavy, lip soft and cold. the chill sends a shiver down your body, but it is anything but discomfort. his tongue sliding against yours, cool temperature only making your body warm. his fingers hold the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss. soon enough. when your fingers reach up, tighten in his hair in response he grunts and deepens the kiss, spurred on by your initiative. the deeper, heavier kisses pull ragged breaths out of you, and he only stops when he senses your loss of breath.

"I need more," he confesses, his lips and breath flowing over the back of your neck. a hand slips from the back of your neck, his tongue pushes into your mouth, moving earnestly as his other hand unclasps your bra. you moan into his lips as it releases. his cool fingers move down your back slowly, tracing the curve of your spine. the shiver causes you to pull away from his kiss. “already sound so pretty,” he whispers. his other hand lets go of your neck, both sliding along the line of your body, soft grip settling at your hips. his lips are greedy against your skin, light licks and pecks left in his wake. your hands are wrapped around him, holding him close. your legs tremble as he presses you forward into the couch, hovering above you. you can feel as he leaves a mark just off your neck, your fingers flexing, nails gripping his skin as you try to keep yourself steady.

he lifts you easily off the couch, lips against your neck as he guides you into his room. though this is your first time inside, he does not give you a chance to look around, moving over to the futon and laying you down. yeosang barely breaks the kisses between you as he leans over you. his soft hands move over your exposed breasts, gasps escaping your lips. you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to repress the moan that rises up when he kisses your sensitive nipple. your body writhes beneath him as he speaks.

"hands on my shoulders," he says, trailing kisses from your lips to your ear. "keep them there please, pretty girl."

you nod, unable to hold his stare as his gaze stays on you, his hand slipping under the waistband of your sweatpants. your breaths are heavier as his fingers slip between your thighs. he’s hesitant at first, index finger dragging along the lining of your underwear. he watches you carefully as he pulls it to the side, a finger slipping over your clit. your hands tense and you let out a plea of surprise and pleasure, covering your mouth as your eyes go wide. his finger slowly rubs your clit, coaxing warm moans from your lips. his movements are erratic; slower, faster, one finger slipping inside, two.

you're shivering under him, "yeo…"

"let go, pretty," his voice is sweet, “look at me when you do.” your eyes focus on him as best they can. there's a pleased hum that comes from him, your fingers and toes flexing as the pleasure that's been building the last few minutes peaks.

"y/n," yeosang mumbles, his breath tickling your neck. his lips drag across your skin, your chest throbbing in anticipation. You place your hands on his chest, pushing slightly. Despite your heart whining at the loss of contact,

"i want more of you, y/n," he says softly, “and that is so terrifying.”

he sighs, and you stop talking. he pulls your hand, guiding you towards him and letting you fall on top of him. his back is against the bed, his blonde hair scattered across. you hold yourself up with both of your arms, hovering above him. he closes his eyes, his hands gripping your hips softly.

"this desire to please you, it consumes me. i want you to want me the same. But," his fingers slowly dances up your waist, tracing your skin, "you may not ever feel the same as I."

he rolls over, and this time, he cages you beneath him. his pupils dilate, and he looks down at his chest, "if you could only know how hard my heart would beat for you.”.

his shirt drops to the side, and you gasp, seeing the scars that cover his chest. against his skin, the ridges curve and meet each other at odd angles. many are faded over time, but you can see a small glimpse of them. yeosang doesn’t say anything, letting you take in his body. the hurt. you reach out, finger ever so lightly tracing a more prominent one. yeosang sucks in a breath but doesn’t move his eyes from yours. he lets you follow the path. your eyes swell with tears, and he brushes one that falls from your eye.

“please don’t cry,” he says softly, “all of it is from long ago, i’m okay now.” you shake your head, bringing your fingers away from him.

“it looks so painful, yeosang. i’m so sorry.”

yeosang leans down, brushing his lips against yours. he breathes in your gasps, stroking your cheek as your tears fall. your eyes flutter as his tongue slides along your lower lip. his lips move from yours, slowly dragging across your shoulder. despite just moments ago when his fingers were inside of you, you cannot help but let embarrassment sink in as he observes you.

“i cannot believe you’re here in front of me. staring at me, willingly letting me see you,” he’s holding his weight up on his knees to keep it from crushing you. “what have i done to deserve you? who knew that you would allow me to see you in such a vulnerable state?”

“i am just a human, yeosang.”

with that he smiles, hand trailing down the curve of your torso. “divinity would faint underneath your gaze.” he moves closer to you, and you feel his bulge straining against his sweats. if you look close enough, you can see a small wet stain coating the outside of the fabric. his lips continue their slow descent down your body, light pecks each time he lifts up slightly. his hands press firmly into your hips, his nails leaving small indents.

you hesitantly reach out, letting your fingers drag through his hair. he shivers at your touch, eyes darkening as he lets his tongue trail. you clench your thighs at his approach, and he whispers onto your skin. inaudible, you ask him to repeat himself once more.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, finger dipping between your folds once before. It didn’t sound the same as before, but you couldn’t question him at the moment. your breath shakens, mind clouded with only him. he drags his middle finger slowly over your clit, enough to keep you on the edge, but not enough to arouse you further. you sigh in frustration.

you begin to stroke his cock, nails scraping against his skin lightly. he leans his head into the crook of your neck, sucking on your skin as your hand moves up and down his erection. yeosang stops your hand in place. he moves back away from you, kicking his slacks off his legs. you see the scars extend from his chest down his legs, and some disappearing onto his back. he sees the sadness in your eyes, and presses his lips between your brows.

“i’m okay,” he repeats, “i have you, pretty girl. i’m okay.” he wraps his arms around your torso, letting your heartbeat slow. he presses his lips to your forehead once more, before pushing you back down.

you look at him, the moonlight shining on his blonde hair, turning it into a more silver shade. he scared you before, an uneasy feeling each time you stood next to him. now, you couldn’t even remember how it felt.

yeosang looks down at his cock, his erection still prominent against his stomach. he looks back at you.

“you can still say no, and I will stop.”

he waits for your response patiently.

“i won’t say no,” you reply back, and he leans down. his cock presses against your cunt, slipping inside with a low pop. you moan, throwing your head to the side. the low moan that escapes his throat is otherworldly, his girth stretching you to your limits. every stroke to move further in has you gasping, his small whimpers barely heard over the sound of your wetness, his cool cock slipping through.

your hands reach out to touch his shoulders, and he leans closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso. he holds you tight as his cock settles in you, his breaths shaky. you feel his hands wrap around your thighs and his body, forcing your cunt to pull him in deep. you widen your eyes as you feel his cock pulsate, almost shaking inside of you.

after you adjust to his size, he goes slow; long strokes moving in and out of your cunt at a leisurely pace.

yeosang pauses, “may i move faster?”

“please.”

he grins. he slams his cock into your cunt. you gasp, his strokes quick and deep. your muscles ache as he continues his relentless pace. fingers digging into his back, whimpers of pleasure falling from your lips.

“i love you.” you’re voice is barely above a whisper.

yeosang’s pace is already relentless, but when he hears those words fall from your lips, it’s like a switch flicked inside of him. he rears back, and slams. you squeeze tightly, and he rewards you with another slam, filling your whole completely. his pattern is erratic, moving quickly and dragging his cock along your cunt. it’s thick; you can feel every vein and lump that covers him.

the bed strains under his pace, forced away by the strength of his stroking. his lips press against your skin feverishly, his desperation to climax overwhelming. the quickness of his skin rubbing against yours, crotch smacking against you and grinding relentlessly will definitely have you sore in the morning.

yeosang pressing into you, your cunt pulsating as your nails tear the skin of his back. you yelp. the intense sensation of yeosang’s thrusts make you fall into your climax, your moans echoing around the room. your eyes flutter as he pulls you tight against him, and you feel his cock explode with cum strands hitting your walls.

you two sit there for a moment, until yeosang shifts, his body still hugging you but this time, laying on your side. his cock sits in you, slowly softening. he runs his fingers down your cheek, rubbing your skin softly. the temperature of his body pressing against yours is cool, your skin seeking his. he presses his lips to yours lightly.

"we should clean up before we sleep." you say into his skin, though unmoving.

"i'll take care of it." he says, covering you with a nearby blanket as he gets up.

he holds you closer to his body, breaths tickling the hairs on your neck. hours have passed, most filled with your combined sounds of pleasure. enough so that you’ve exhausted yourselves sheets in the washer, new ones beneath your freshly showered bodies. he didn’t leave you alone in there either - not that you wanted him to, of course. his stamina is endless, your flushed body against the wall as he pressed into you. the thought of it makes your body warm, legs wiggling slightly against his cool chest pressed against your back. his lips drag against your shoulder, soft kiss brushed against it.

“again?” he whispers. though you cannot see his face from this angle, you can hear the smile in his voice as he says the word.

your body aches at the thought. “yeosang, you’re insatiable.” you murmur, his arms wrapping around your center, pulling you closer into him.

“mm,” he agrees simply. “now that i’ve had you i’m not sure i can let you go that easily. and we have to christen my apartment.”

“that’s a bit blasphemous,” you snort, and he laughs. “what, i’m sure there’s at least a vampire afterlife of some sort.”

“unfortunately for me, pretty girl, if there is one, i doubt i will be experiencing it anytime soon.”

the conversation lulls after that, soft giggles and laughs filling the silence every few minutes or so. the anxiety of being around him before diminished into nothing. his chin rests on the top of your head, the rumbling of his throat as he hums vibrating against you.

“wooyoung wasn’t serious about what he said,” he says after a few minutes of silence. “he worries for me.”

“he should, he’s your friend.”

yeosang pauses for a moment, before continuing. “we were partners a long time ago.”

oh. a long time could mean so much more to him than to you, but you don’t dare interrupt, intrigued on what else he’s going to say.

“the last time it happened was about a little over a hundred years, give or take a few years. we’re well now, but in the beginning it was rough. we used each other for satisfaction every couple of decades. he came to my apartment today and mentioned our past,” yeosang’s fingers slightly tighten. “i told him i have you now. it didn’t upset him, but it did bewilder him. i’m not one to interact with humans the way that others do. i avoid your species completely, moreso out of fear of the unknown. i trust you, but i don’t trust any other human. i’ve only accepted you telling your friend because i have confidence in your decisions. if it were anyone else i’d vehemently deny it. but i digress - wooyoung will not bother you again. he may linger around my home every so often, but he’d never welcome himself into yours. we would need permission to enter, anyway.”

“do you still like him?” it is an awkward question to ask, but you’re curious. you don’t deny that yeosang has feelings for you, but you wonder if his feelings for wooyoung go beyond simply caring for a friend.

“not as you're thinking. i enjoy him being around as a friend. he brings out another side of me. but not as a partner or lover. i think we’ve grown past that part in our relationship. he seems to agree as well. and i do believe he has a partner of his own now.”

“so i have you to myself,” you grin. he cannot see it from the angle you’re resting, but he chuckles, body vibrating to the sound.

“was there ever any room for uncertainty?” he presses his lips against your hair, “are you reassuring yourself because of wooyoung, or our meeting with seonghwa coming up soon?”

how decipherable are your emotions?

“a bit of both. i want us to be okay before anything else is decided. bringing someone into a situation that isn’t stable would hurt us all. and seonghwa is my best friend,” you whisper, “i can’t hurt him again.”

“will you tell him about me?” he asks.

“i would have to if we’re all going to be in this. i can’t keep any secrets from him. and i’m sure he’ll figure it out almost immediately. he picks up on small things quickly.”

“you didn’t,” he teases.

“i just thought you were a freak,” you murmur, a gasp spilling from his lips. “nothing wrong with that!”

“and yet you stayed,” he points out.

you turn around, his hold loosening as you do so. your body faces him, hand reaching up, tracing the lining of his face. you cannot imagine yourself without him now, your identities too entwined for you to separate without hurting each other in the long run. there is little that would have made you leave him.

“yeosang,” your tone is softer, decorated with your complicated feelings. his name holds so much in your mouth each time you say it, a confession, maybe. there is little to separate the two of you — the space between your bodies unseen at first glance. his hand reaches to cup the shape of your face, thumb resting at the corner of your lips. how easy your heart picks up at the simplest touch.

“you torture me,” his lids are heavy, teeth digging into his lip. “i know you tease but my mind wanders.”

“to?”

“i cannot look at you, be with you, think about you, without love. i never really yearned or envied humans before. your lives cave out such a small amount of time it felt insignificant to desire such an existence. and yet i rest with you here, holding a breath that is neverending, afraid of leaving you. my love for you will cause me to crumble and i will never not be thankful.”

his finger catches a tear that falls down your cheek, “if it were only feasible to be with you until the end, pretty girl.”

#fic: from eden #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x reader #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff

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