#red death doing a peace sign

[thereweredragonshere]

Practicing the queen🫶 lowkey love the red death. Continue traumatising our favourite characters one exploding corpse at a time 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[priisprii]

What they think - Kim Mingyu

Summary: Mingyu wasn't supposed to fall in love but he did anyways, he fell hard for you; his sugar baby, who waits desperately in his hotel room with open arms and open legs.

Warnings: Idol au, Sugar daddy!Mingyu x sugar baby!reader, dom! Mingyu, sub!reader, heavy degradation, choking,spit kink, cum play, creampie, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, tit play.

Word count: 3.5 k

Minors don't interact , if the tags make you uncomfortable don't interact.

Mingyu loved how submissive and obedient you were for him, his one glance and you are already falling down to your knees, your eyes were always silently begging for him to use you and disregard you as soon as his desire for your body is fulfilled.

Mingyu didn't understand how someone could be like you; a complete pushover, he calls you that in his head. No matter how much he pushes you back, no matter how much he tells you he's just using you for your body, you crawl back to him, you look at him like you have seen the night sky for the first time in your life, you look at Mingyu like you are in love with him.

And it scares Mingyu to death, you weren't supposed to fall for him neither does he, your contract stated it in bold letters no falling in love, still both of you were breaking each layer of indifference everyday. He wasn't supposed to cook breakfast for you, he wasn't even supposed to sleep in same bed as you but he did anyways, he's doing it since months.

Mingyu sometimes remember how you bounced into his life, he wonders how his life would be peaceful if he never listened to his best friend Jeonghan and went on a date he arranged for him, not just any ordinary date; a fucking date with potential sugar baby.

Still he couldn't blame Jeonghan completely, his friend was tired of him finding new girl to take to his room every weekend, having one night stands sometimes without signing the NDAs. He was putting his whole group reputation to risk cause' he wasn't to fill the gap in his chest by one night stands or drugs. Mingyu was exhausted with the monotonous and tiring life he was living, he wasn't the same person he was years ago.

Deep down Jeonghan knew Mingyu was yearning for romantic connection but he also knew his friend has gone fully pessimistic and bitter regarding love, years of empty failed connections turned the hopeless romantic golden retriever to complete walking red flag.

So all Jeonghan could do was visit some sketchy sugar daddy site and register anonymous date for Mingyu. He didn't wanted get his group's reputation tarnish just cause' a member can't keep it to his pants.

When Mingyu saw you for the first time at the restaurant, he felt like his whole body was attacked with tiny needles, his heart thumping rapidly, he didn't knew why the hell he was having such a visceral reaction by simply looking at you he just knew you were the most beautiful women he has ever laid eyes on.

That happened eight months ago, eight months since Mingyu is trying hard to not spill his feelings to you like a stupid highschool boy. Whenever he sees you , he feels the same sensation he felt the first time he saw you but now he was able to name that feeling; it was love. Pure filthy obsessive love . He wanted you in every possible way but he was afraid. He was afraid of what some of his psycho fans would do to you once your relationship became public, just imagining that makes his skin crawl and blood boil.

Mingyu had endless adoration, love and admiration for you, he knew most of your secrets which you spilled unknowingly during druken late night conversations, he knew why you were forced to be in that stupid website and how much of shit you had gone through. He knew you shine so bright cause' you are trying to hide the darkness residing in you.

Mingyu can't make you go through a forever hell just to be with you, just cause' of his own selfish desires. Being with him meant constant jabs thrown on you, having sasengs following you everywhere you go, your privacy and rights getting stripped of you and your life struggles and traumas being talk of world.

Mingyu knew you don't deserve that, you deserve kind, soft and peaceful kind of love which you were made for receiving but at the same time Mingyu was a slave to his feelings, he couldn't let you go, atleast not yet, atleast not until the contract expires and when he does he's gonna make you sign a new one.

You are Kim Mingyu's muse..

Mingyu was rushing to his hotel room after the concert ended thirty minutes ago, usually the concert adrenaline makes him want to party and get wasted at some bar with his members but everything has changed since you came to his life . He couldn't wait to reach his room cause you would be there, welcoming him with open arms and open legs.

Back in hotel room, you were waiting for Mingyu desperately, playing with hem of your short skirt which was there for mere decoration, for Mingyu to rip it off your body. The memories from last night were making you hazy and lightheaded, Mingyu overstimulated you till you were screaming for him to stop, you looked around your hotel room, remembering how he relentlessly fucked you on each furniture even on that damn cold floor. You lightly touch your neck, hissing sharply as your fingers ram across the hickeys Mingyu painted your neck with. You were doing anything to stop yourself by taking the pillow from behind and hump against it like a bitch in heat like Mingyu calls you.

You were a little too deep in your fantasy land when you heard the sound doorknob opening, a smile made it's way on your face as you jumped off the bed and ran to Mingyu hugging him tightly, clinging to him like a koala bear.

"Missed you daddy so fucking much" you whispered against Mingyu's chest, littering the fabric with kisses. Mingyu felt his heart swelling up on your simple adorable action, his hand engulfing you into a tight embrace, your body fiting perfectly with his, like two missing puzzle pieces coming together.

"Daddy missed his little angel too babe" Mingyu said as he held your chin with his index finger and thumb and slowly bringing his lips close to yours and kissing you like he's been away from you since forever, his hand wrapped around neck and cheek as he deepened the kiss, his tongue licking your bottom lip ever so slowly asking for access even he didn't have to, he could take your body, mouth as he pleases , you smiled into the kiss letting his tongue wonder inside your mouth, you could feel Mingyu's desperation as the kiss deepened.

Your lipgloss was smeared all along your face, wads of spit falling down as Mingyu took your mouth hungrily, he pushed your body closer to his, grinding his growing bulge against you.

"So fucking beautiful" Mingyu said as he broke the kiss to get a good look of your face, his eyes carrying passion of madman, lust growing heavily, you felt your knees giving up as he eye-fucked you.

Giving you one final kiss, Mingyu ran his tongue in your left cheek, the mere action making you let out a whiny moan.

"On your knees" Mingyu ordered, his hand gripping your shoulder and softly pushing you down onto the cold floor.

"You look so pretty like this" Mingyu smiled deviously as he rubbed his spit across your face, his cock straining painfully in his trousers, your messed up face was best view of his life. you should have felt disgusted, dirty but you felt incredibly turned out and wet, your panties sticking to your folds as you were clenching your thighs, mind clouded with heavy pleasure.

"Open up" Mingyu tugged your lower lip with his thumb and suddenly a glob of spit hit your cheek, you knew damn well he missed landing spit in your mouth for his own sadistic pleasure.

"I won't miss this time babe, now open up wide for daddy" Mingyu said his voice laced up with fake sympathy. "Say aahh"

"aahh"

Mingyu spit straight into your mouth, you got the urge to swallow it immediately but Mingyu had taught you better than that, wait till he gives you green light.

"swallow" Mingyu groaned, as started undoing his belt, his cock begging him to use your mouth and chase his high .

You swallowed Mingyu's spit and he didn't wait no further, his hand made it's way to your head, gathering your open hair into a ponytail and gripping it tightly while his other hand held his cock and was smearing his precum on your lips before shoving half of his length down your throat in a quick motion, the action making you moan, sending vibrations down his length.

"My little cock slut, always desperate for cock" Mingyu groaned as he bopped your head upon his cock, his pace being cruel, that's what you absolutely loved about Mingyu, the way he fucked you like a toy, you loved how absolutely feral he was for you, you knew only you had this effect on him.

"It's like your throat was made for sucking and gagging on my cock, that's the only purpose you have Y/N being my human fleshlight" Mingyu's tone was ice cold laced up with desperation nevertheless his degrading words made your pussy dripping with arousal, you swear you could cum by his words alone, the way he thrusting into your mouth made your brain hazy with pleasure. Tears and snort running down your face and dripping into curve of your breasts, the sight making Mingyu lose his mind completely.

"I am gonna cum in this slutty mouth, if you waste even one single drop I am gonna make you lick it off the floor, understand?"

You let out a muffled yes, hollowing your cheeks and sucking his cock harder, your grip on Mingyu's thigh tightened as you looked at him desperately, not caring even a bit regarding the burn you felt at back of your throat, jaw sore from accommodating his large length.

"Take it, fucking good girl" Mingyu moaned as he spilled his cum in your arching thorat, white spurs of cum painting your mouth, he let out hiss as he felt you giving his dick a kitten lick, he pulled out, releasing rest of his cum onto your nose and cheeks, you being covered in his essence satisfying the animalistic urge inside him.

You swallowed Mingyu's cum happily like it was something sacred, afterall you indeed worshipped Mingyu, you licked your lips and held your tongue out showing him evidence of your obedience, he smirked looking at you as he scooped the remaining cum which he painted onto your face by his fingers and shoved them inside your mouth, you needed no command to suck them clean.

Mingyu kneeled down, looking at you with insatiable hunger, even though he just had his cock sucked down so good he was hard again, with you it was never enough .

"hands up" Mingyu commands and you obeyed in a blink of second not caring the ache in your muscles.

Mingyu removed your pink crop top and threw it somewhere carelessly, he wasn't surprised to find you braless as your hard nipples were already poking out since the moment he got here. His palm grabbed your left breast pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers, you whimpered, electricity running in your veins.

"So pretty" Mingyu murmured to himself as he started playing with your tits , kneading the soft flesh mercilessly, his lips made it's way to your neck, sucking on to the same hickey he gave you last night, you felt your whole body was burning with pleasure but it wasn't enough, he wasn't giving your cunt any attention.

"Daddy please... touch me" you whimpered helplessly, earning a raised eyebrow from Mingyu.

"But I am touching you angel, aren't I?" Mingyu said in a mocking tone. Fucking pretentious asshole you thought to yourself.

"Touch my pussy daddy.. please it hurts" you said, not giving two fucks about how pathetic you sound , you knew Mingyu loved having you beg like this, he stripped you off any shame and innocence you felt months ago. What Mingyu made you was in simple words his cock hungry whore.

"Aww it hurts? " Mingyu cooed as his palm landed a sharp slap against your pussy, making your whole body jerk up with sudden ecstasy, you were still on your knees and would have fell off on your head if it wasn't for Mingyu holding you tightly against him as he landed another harsh hit to your pussy, his rough palm being covered with your glistening juices.

"Daddyy" you cried out as you felt Mingyu pinching your clit harshly.

"You wanted me to touch your cum hole right, I am doing it so why are you being ungrateful now, you little whore"

You swear you could have cum right then and there, his words sending sharp vibrations to your cunt, you didn't knew which unhealed part of you, yearned to have Mingyu treat you so roughly but whatever it was you loved it, your pleasure was overwhelming your senses. Each of Mingyu's touch making you shudder.

"Daddy please—Make me cum—please" you begged as you grinded your pussy on Mingyu's open palm, feeling desperate for some sort of stimulation. His one finger was enough for you to reach your orgasm.

Your begging might have pleased Mingyu as he got up and wiped his hand onto your boob and gave you muttered quick stand up.

"Get onto the bed, hurry up if you don't want me to take you again on the floor" Mingyu said as he removed his t-shirt and pants, standing before you like a sculpted statue , every part of him screamed perfection, his skin perfect, his abs? You wish you could ride them, his biceps? You wished he headlocks you while taking you from behind.

You laid down on your back, eyeing Mingyu hungrily as he walked towards you, his tall frame engulfing you completely, he crawled on to the bed, sitting between your legs and pulling them apart in swift motion.

"Look at this desperate pussy begging to be filled up with cum" Mingyu said to himself as he ran his middle finger between your folds, parting them ever so slowly and spitting directly onto your clit, the lewd action drawing out a moan from you.

Mingyu shoved two of his fingers into your cunt, the pooling wetness making it easier for him to move and scissor them around easily, his thumb toyed with your clit, as his digits worked relentlessly inside your walls, pressing down your gummy walls.

" Your tiny cunt remains tiny no matter how many times it gets fucked, even if I fist you today it would again tighten up tomorrow like a virgin hole" Mingyu groaned as you clenched furiously around his digits, the prospect of him fucking his entire fist inside you making you spiral. He knew you were close by the way your walls were clenching so tight around his, afraid of him ruining your much awaited orgasm.

But Mingyu wasn't cruel like that , edging didn't interest him slight a bit, he was a giver and making you cum again and again is what he loved. He loved how sensitive you get after each release, afterall he loved spoiling his baby.

"Cum darling, let it out —make a mess for daddy" Mingyu's words were enough for you release the coil in your stomach, Mingyu's gripped your hip, preventing you from squirming away, you begged for it, so he would give it to you.

"Cumming —" you let out high pitched scream, as you felt your pussy spaming onto Mingyu's finger, thick slick gushing out endlessly, the sound your pussy was making was absolutely embarrassing, almost porn worthy.

Mingyu fucked his digits slowly as he felt your high fading away, he removed them and put them inside his own mouth, lapping the digits clean, he let out a satisfactory hum.

"My favourite desert"

You felt your cheeks heating up at the lewd compliment but at this point your whole body was burning up so it didn't matter. You felt Mingyu aligning his cock between your folds, you tried to squirm away but he quickly held you down by your throat as he was preparing to fuck you in missionary.

"I am sensitive daddy — no more please" you whimpered as you felt his tip entering your sensitive walls .

"Shut the fuck up, I own this cunt and I will use it till as I please" His hand tightens around your throat and another hand between your soaked thighs, cupping the sensitive mound. Fingers spreading open, hard cock teasing your entrance. A hissed whined leaving your lips. In swift motion Mingyu thrusts into you and removes his cock entirely before repeating the same action couple of times, streching you out completely, body tired and sprawled out for him to use, break and mend.

" You feel heavenly baby, my baby" Mingyu whispered as he captured your lips into a passionate kiss, hungrily lapping your mouth and sucking onto your tongue as his cock drilled inside you at a deliciously punishing pace. The hand which was resting on your throat searched for your hand, intervening fingers lovingly as if he isn't fucking you without any ounce of mercy.

" Y/N,Who do you belong to?" Mingyu asked breaking the kiss, looking at you like a pirate that found world famous treasure.

"You — I belong to you " you answered voice breaking between each words, Mingyu let out a disapproving grunt as he gave you particularly sharp thrust .

"I belong to —daddy" you cried out, feeling pleasure beyond limits as Mingyu rutted against you.

"My name darling" Mingyu said, pausing his movements all together, you looked at him with confusion, shock then with pure happiness, you weren't allowed to call Mingyu by his name in bedroom ever, it was one of very few clauses you didn't break, your heart strings tugged as you tried spelling out his name.

"Mingyu —" you whispered, voicing out shyly while ignoring the waves of emotions, erupting in your stomach.

"Louder" Mingyu grunted as he continued his movements, brain going fuzzy by your soft voice moaning out his name so beautifully.

"Mingyu — fuck Mingyu, soo good" you screamed out, clenching around his cock desperately, your second orgasm, approaching you like a truck.

The sole reason Mingyu didn't wished to have you call his name was cause' he wanted to forgive his identity whenever he was with you ,he wanted to stay with you as a nobody, not as a Kim Mingyu who was loved and hated by many, he just wanted to be a simple man with you, the one who is loved and one who is in love.

"I am close darling, gonna breed your pussy real good" Mingyu said as his thrusts grew more sloppy, his own orgasm approaching. With few more thrusts, he spilled his cum inside you, as you released too both of you cums mixing up and overflowing uncontrollably.

Mingyu detached his cock from you, admiring the beautiful creampie he just created, your pussy looked absolutely delectable,he shoved three of his fingers inside you, pushing his cum back inside your tight cunt,the action making you squirm uncontrollably.

"Mingyu please —sensitive" you hissed as you felt his delicious touch, the overstimulation clouding your senses.

"We can't let even a single drop waste, right Angel?" Mingyu asked, as he picked you up almost too easily , bringing you to bathtub and making you sit comfortably while taking seat against you.

He ran the warm water onto your body, the temperature making you forget the ache in your muscles.

"I am sleepy" you said as you pressed your body against Mingyu, finding solace in his big strong arms .

"What's your ring size" Mingyu suddenly asked you, bringing you back from the dreamland you were just about to slip in.

"I don't know never measured" you said sleepily, not caring why he even asked that question in the first place.

However Mingyu made up his mind, he won't be letting fear of future events Make you slip away from him, he loved you, he loved you enough to finally not giving fuck about anything, sudden epiphany hitting him, the love you had for him wasn't that weak to get shattered cause of opinions of useless people and your history, he was billionaire he could bury everything and anything he wants, Mingyu was done torturing himself and you.

He loves you and he will spend his whole life loving you.

A/N:This was the flithiest shit i ever wrote pls share your views

[shoukokus]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Housewardens x F!Reader with the quotes "You're in love," "I think you're delusional," and "And I think you're in denial."?

Really short scenarios but I think they turned out cute <3

Riddle Rosehearts

When Trey tells him he's in denial, Riddle goes strangely quiet. His feelings for the prefect... were they love? He doesn't really know what that feels like. Just because Riddle likes being near them, having tea together, wondering if Ace and Deuce were getting them into trouble, did that mean he was in love? Surely looking out for them didn't mean more. Adjusting their crooked tie, thinking about that one time their hand brushed his, helping him when... His thoughts trailed off, and he realizes how ignorant he's been.

Leona Kingscholar

Ruggie tells Leona he's in denial, Leona growls at him, and that was supposed to be the end of it. Except the hyena's stupid words wouldn't leave his head. For Seven's sake, just because he tolerated the herbivore doesn't mean he was in love with them! Yeah, they spent a lot of time in the gardens together. Yes, their dorm was the first place he went to for some peace. Sure, they bring him a comfort that no one else- His ears stand upright, eyes blowing open. Okay, fine, he's in love.

Azul Ashengrotto

Floyd and Jade had been hassling Azul about this very topic for a while now. But when Floyd finally said that he wouldn't admit his love because Azul was in denial, it got to him. Was he in denial? Just lying to himself about the nature of his feelings so they wouldn't scare him to death? That just looking at logically is less terrifying? But it's also... lonely. He wanted to be by their side, wanted them in his office while he worked, to be the one they relied on. Maybe if he came out of his octopot just a tad (and metaphorically out of denial) better things could happen.

Kalim Al-Asim

"You're in love?" Jamil asks him. Kalim nods vigorously, a puppy love look on his face. The other boy sighs. "You're delusional if you think it's anything more than a crush. And you're in denial if you think it can work out." Jamil leaves, feeling a little bad, but it would pass right? Kalim couldn't get distracted like that, but it was far too late for any warning. The Kalim train was in full motion and it wasn't going to stop until he confessed his feelings in the best way possible!

Vil Schoenheit

Rook is practically giddy when he comes into Vil's room and announces that Vil is in love. Shouldn't this be the other way around...? "You're delusional." Vil scoffs. "And you're in denial." Rook sing songs back. Vil orders him out, and Rook skips away while still proclaiming his housewarden's feelings. When the door is shut, Vil realizes that it's a really bad sign that he knows who Rook is talking about. Well... perhaps he is, but it is not Rook's business!

Idia Shroud

Ortho saw that Idia had given the prefect some snacks. Not just any, his favorite kind! He practically hissed like a cat anytime someone got close to them. Now he was giving them away? To the prefect! Confidently, Ortho told his brother that he was in love. Idia denies it, Ortho reinforces it. Proceed protocol: Idia turns red and hides under his covers! Ortho happily chips that he can't run or hide from his feelings. Idia says, "I can try!"

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had been courting the prefect, slowly but surely. During a nightly walk, he finally saw in their eyes what was in his. Love. They talk about it, feelings finally open and deep, and their night continues. As they stood at the Ramshackle dorm, Malleus decides to do a bit of teasing. "You're in love," he says. The prefect rolls their eyes, playing along. "You're delusional." With fondness on both their faces, he ends with, "and you're in denial."

Requests are open!

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter three

⭐︎ You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comofort (I guess?), mentions of death, grief, grumpy/mean!Steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve allows you to see a glimpse of who he really is, and not only do you get that, you also find out some sad truths.

Word count: 12.1k

Author's note: One of the chapters I was excited for the most was this one, you'll know why when you read it hehe. @hellfire--cult worked on this one with me, and she added a lot (don't listen to her when she will say she didn't, cause she did !) give her some love (or all of it cause she deserves it ♡)

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter ⭐︎ next chapter

☀︎

Steam fogs the mirror in the bathroom, drops of water fall from your hair and down your shoulders, the smell of vanilla and lavender lingers in the room, you are rubbing moisturizer into your skin, enjoying the luxury of it all, a luxury you won’t have much longer the moment you are back on the road again. It’s impossible to find functioning showers nowadays, let alone hot running water. Something that used to be so normal, is something special now and you enjoy every second here in Hawkins, every hot shower, every good night’s sleep, every warm meal, the feeling of safety. 

You put a pair of sweatpants on and a sweater to keep you warm, a pair of wool socks that Nancy knitted herself. You brush your wet hair and clip it back. 

When you step out into the hallway, silence greets you. Eddie is in his room, he was complaining about a headache after you finished patrolling together after he worked on the RV all morning, you both got caught in the rain and after taking a shower to warm up, he excused himself to lie down. The door to Nancy’s bedroom is closed as well, she must be reading, she always closes the door when she does. The rainy weather allows you all to take everything a bit slower, to rest a little more than usual. 

The wind howls outside, thunder striking somewhere far, red bolts of lightning curse through the sky, an image you still haven’t gotten used to. 

You make your way down the stairs, it isn’t dark out yet but the grey clouds make it seem like it’s evening already, the golden light from the fireplace in the living room is very inviting in contrast to the darkness outside. You step inside and notice Steve moving around in the kitchen, taking out bowls from the cardboard. A towel is slung over his shoulder, his features are relaxed, no sign of a frown appearing on his face… yet.

You watch him for a moment, not moving away or towards him. You don’t want to disturb him or his peace. He seems to be content by himself and you know that facial expression will change the moment he notices you. 

Things have been tense between you after your one and only time patrolling together. He didn’t ask you to join him in anything and you didn’t make the mistake of trailing after him again. You also didn’t make much more conversation with him and he seemed happy about it for he didn’t try either. The only interactions you both have are ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, maybe a ‘can you pass me the salt’ or an ‘excuse me’ here and there but that’s all. 

It’s been eleven days since your arrival here, and you both are still where you started. It saddens you. You tried to get to know him, and you still want to but he makes it hard to.

Maybe if things had been different, you would have gotten the chance to get to know the Steve you have seen in the pictures Nancy had shown you. The guy he once was seemed sweet and welcoming, the one before you is the opposite of it. 

You know something must’ve happened to him. Maybe it’s got to do with the scars on his skin, maybe he lost someone you don’t know about, maybe it’s because of Robin but whatever it was that took away the light in his eyes has turned him into this – mistrusting and mean. 

A silent sigh falls from your lips, you force your eyes away from his form and turn away, ready to make your way back up the stairs but his voice makes you halt in your tracks. 

“Hey…”

A lump grows in your throat, a nervous feeling settles in your chest, you swallow and take a deep breath before you turn around, facing him again. 

He is looking right at you, an awkward attempt at a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Hi… I uh, Nancy and Eddie are in their rooms and I didn’t want to disrupt their peace but uh I also don’t want to disrupt yours so–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you, not even letting you finish your sentence. “Would you like to help me?” 

You blink. 

Did you hear him correctly? 

He presses his palms against the counter, raising his eyebrows at you, like he waits for you to say yes. 

Steve notices your uncertainty, the knit between your brows, the pursed lips, the confused look in your eyes. You are pulling at your sleeves, looking a little lost, looking a little intimidated. You are not like this with Nancy and Eddie, you are comfortable with them – but not with him, and he can’t blame you for that.

“I could use a hand.”

You nod slowly, licking your lips, “yeah, I uh, sure!” 

You can’t help but feel a giddiness inside of you. He never asked you to join him before, he never asked for your help. 

“What do you need me to do?” You ask as you make your way over to him, standing across from him now, on the other side of the kitchen island. 

“Butter for now.”

“Butter?” You tilt your head. 

He hates it when you do that, every time you ask a question, every time you are confused about something, you tilt your head to the side. 

“We received a ton of milk, but we have to make our own butters and cream,” he explains as he gestures to the cans of milk on the table. 

“Oh…”

“Wanna give me a hand? It’s a lot of stirring.”

You nod, following him to the small, round kitchen table. 

“Here,” he murmurs, gesturing to the wooden jar, “this is a butter churn.”

“This is what they look like?” 

Steve nods, “yeah, what’d you think they looked like?” 

You shrug, picking up the stick, “I dunno, this thing looks like something straight out of the 1500s.”

Steve snorts, “maybe it is, we found it in Miss Keller’s house, she’s basically from the 1500s with the dresses she always wore.”

You fake a gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth, “you stole Miss Keller’s butter churn? Bad Steve.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and turns away, but you see the way his lips curl upwards, even if only a little. – A small victory on your part. 

“So… how do I use this thing?”

He pours some milk into the jar and takes the stick from your hands, putting inside the jar before he covers the sides with a towel so the milk doesn’t splatter over you both.

“Here, you just… do these motions,” he explains, twisting the stick from side to side as he raises it up and down slowly, “you churn it slowly, you don’t want the milk to get all over you, it may take some time until you see some progress, you just gotta be patient.” 

You hum, moving a little closer to him, invading his space, you smell his shampoo, his body wash, a hint of oranges and apricot, the sweet and soft scents surprise you, most men opt for masculine scents, strong and overpowering ones. You prefer this. You like this, you like this a little more than you should. You watch the way his hands move as he shows you the motions, you focus on his voice when he gives you the instructions and then you take over when he hands you the stick before he steps away from you rather quickly. 

Unbeknownst to you, he too liked the scent that lingers on your skin a little too much. The sweetness of it, the softness of your hand when it touched his own, the closeness and the heat of your body – he doesn’t like you, how could he? His body reacts to your scent, feminine and soft. It’s been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and you are the first to graze his skin, that’s all. He wouldn’t think anything of it, he wouldn’t react to it had there been other women around. 

To his surprise you stay quiet, focused on the task before you, you don’t speak or ask any questions for a while, it’s almost odd to him, you are talkative, never missing the opportunity to open your mouth and ramble about something completely random and unimportant. Then again, things have been tense between you both. He knows it’s his fault, he also knows that it’s for the better, yet he can’t help but dislike this silence right now, he doesn’t know why. 

He tries to focus on his own task, pouring milk into a pot to make cream. 

The crackle of the fire, and the sound from the butter churn fill the silence between you both. A few minutes pass before you finally speak up. 

“What are we using the butter for?” You ask, feeling the soreness in your wrist already.

“For the meat. I use it to make it tender. The meats are not as good now that the cows are not properly cared for. They’re just cows from the wild and the few from the barn here.” 

“Oh, so they don’t get all the needed supplements and stuff?” 

“Exactly,” Steve nods, reaching for a spatula, he starts stirring the milk, “I mean, we do our best but you know…”

You look over at him, surprised to find him looking back at you already, you didn’t realize his eyes were on you. You nod your head slowly, not moving your eyes away from his, you don’t break the contact just yet, looking into his hazel eyes that are always blazing with anger or annoyance, right now it’s neither of those emotions, it’s something else, something you can’t read, something you can’t make out, something you haven’t seen in his eyes yet, a look yet to be unlocked. 

He blinks, shaking his head, he furrows his eyebrows and looks down at your hand, “how does it look?” 

You breathe out and force your eyes away from his as well, you stop your movements and lift the towel off the jar, “uh, I think it’s solid now.” 

“Great, now pour it into the bowl,” he gestures to the bowl with the cheesecloth inside. 

You fall quiet again and follow his instructions, his voice fills the space between you as he gives you a step by step on what to do but when you’re as good as done, the silence between you is almost deafening, almost awkward, especially to him, the need to fill it is so strong. 

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t talk to you if not necessary, that he wouldn’t ask questions. He doesn’t want to know anything about you, he doesn’t need that in his life, but this moment right now is killing him. He is done cooking the cream, and he is now working on making dinner, cutting vegetables. He tries to distract himself with that but to no avail. 

He glances at you. It’s dark out now, the only source of light coming from the fireplace and all the candles set up because he likes to save up on electricity by keeping the lights off. The golden light touches your skin so softly, your hair shining from it, the smell of your body wash lingers in the room. You look relaxed, you look content despite being here with him. The sweater you are wearing is too big and it slipped down your shoulder from all the movements, exposing the scar that has formed on your shoulder. It was fresh when you came here, and he never found out how you got it. 

He clears his throat, swallowing the lump that grew from nervousness, he speaks your name, which it’s almost foreign on his tongue. 

You look up at him, “yeah..?”

“What uh,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before he points to your shoulder, “what happened?”

You need a moment to follow what he is pointing at. You are surprised, almost taken aback to hear a question coming from him, a question directed at you. Slowly, you look down, only now noticing that your sweater slipped. You put down the paddle that you used to form the butter and pull your sweater back up. 

“Uh… I fell onto broken glass when a sick person snuck up on me.” You explain, scrunching your nose, “I was distracted, I never am usually but I was hungry and looking for food and I found something I’ve been looking for, for months!” 

“Oh,” Steve mumbles and looks down. “What was it?” 

“...Kit Kat’s.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, lip curling up a bit, “you almost got yourself killed because of Kit Kat’s?” 

You shrug at him, “they’ve always been my favorite! And I haven’t had any since the day the world went to shit!” 

He chuckles a bit but he doesn’t comment on it further, just looking back down, giving you the opportunity to look at him closer, at the scar around his neck, you never asked how he got it, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

He looks up to find you staring at his neck. He knows you are curious, you have been from the start, he always caught you staring at it. 

“I was dragged by a demo– a bat.”

He sees the way your eyes widen, how surprised you are by his explanation, “huh?”

He points to his neck, “it choked me, leaving a mark, while two others bit my flesh off.” 

Steve used to cringe every moment he spent thinking of that night, of when they dragged him across the floor, leaving marks on his skin. He used to have nightmares of it, until those nightmares were replaced by new pictures, worse ones. 

You nod slowly, looking him up and down, there are no other visible marks for you to see, except for the one on his neck. 

“Where?”

He sighs, not wanting to look into your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness flashing in them. He looks back down at the carrot he was cutting, picking the knife back up again, he continues. 

“My abdomen, my sides… but Eddie had it worse.” 

You quickly realize what he is doing, steering the topic away from him again, thinking he doesn’t deserve sympathy for what he went through. 

You have seen the scars on Eddie’s skin, the deep and gnarly marks, he briefly told you what had happened but you never pushed the subject, you never tried to find out more. 

“You mean the scar on his lip…?” 

Steve nods, “his chest, abdomen, arms, legs… They’re all scarred. They bit off chunks of flesh.” He says, his voice sad, almost haunted. 

Your shoulders drop, the look on your face too, sadness flushes through you and you look down at the table, at nothing in particular.

You can’t imagine how it happened, the pain he was in, the fear that took home in all of them when Eddie was bleeding out and fighting for his life. 

Steve turns around when he registers your silence. He sees the worried, sad look on your face, how your lips curl downwards and your shoulders are dropped. 

“But we’re okay now, he is healthy as you can see… and annoying.”

At that, you smile a little, lifting your head back up to look at him, “yeah, but he’s adorable.” 

Steve draws back a little, raising an eyebrow at you, “you crushing on Munson or something?” 

Your eyes widen and you flush all over, shaking your head quickly that your hair falls out of your clip. 

“What, no! Ew! He reminds me of my brother! People that are just like my brother ain’t my type!” You scoff, shuddering a little. You pick up the paddle again and continue forming the butter into the shape you want to have it. 

Steve can’t help but smile, amused by the look on your face. He gets a little curious though. 

“... And what is your type?”

You hum, taking a moment to answer his question. 

He doesn’t look away from you just yet, he watches you. 

“Mmm… As long as he makes me smile when I need it the most… that’s all I need.” 

Steve nods at your words, humming. 

You look up at him, surprised to see him still watching you. 

“What about you? What’s your type, cowboy?” 

He flushes a little, cheeks warming under your eyes. He hasn’t talked about women in years, and hasn't thought about this either. 

He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders up and down, “I uh… I honestly have no idea.” 

He is not the guy he used to be, the one who was flirting freely and taking out one girl after the other – even that guy didn’t know his type. He was searching for something in every girl, and he never found it. 

“Oh come on!” You scoff, looking at him in disbelief, “what type of women did you go out with?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, they were always… stereotypical girls that always talked about the latest trends and stuff.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you look down. 

“Ah right… Prom King. I can guess which type of women you’re into–”

He quickly shakes his head at you, “no… no… I went out with them to have fun, it was just physical. Those girls weren’t my type.” 

You frown at his words and sigh. 

For some reason your reaction makes him think that you’re done with this conversation, but then you look back up and turn towards him completely. 

“Okay… then, when you’re with a woman, what is attractive to you?” 

“... Real answer?” 

“Sure…” You murmur. 

A smirk tugs at his lip when he notices how flustered you are getting when his eyes move up and down. 

You notice how he stops at your chest in particular and you can’t help but groan and shake your head in disappointment. 

“Booo…”

“No!” Steve raises his hands up in surrender, chuckling. 

“I was gonna say eyes.”

You roll your eyes, snorting, “right… I didn’t mean physically, Steve. I meant what is attractive to you when you’re on a date with them? What do they do that is attractive to you?”

Your words wipe the small smile off his face again, and he stands there in silence, getting lost in his thoughts, getting lost in the past, reliving every date, every moment that should have excited him but didn’t. He realizes that there was not a single date that is worth remembering, not a single girl who made him smile genuinely. Sure, he had fun the moment he was in pleasure but that’s all, the girls were attractive physically but emotionally? They all sucked, none of them cared about him, all they wanted was a piece of King Steve. 

And even when he thought he found something genuine, someone to love him, someone to care for him, it turned out to be a show, it was just as genuine as the interest all those girls had in him. It was all a lie. 

There is no love in him for her anymore, no feelings, no desires, nothing. But those words still hurt and sometimes they still haunt him because he believes it. Those words echo in his head, just like all the other hateful things others have thrown at him. But one in particular remains,

‘Bullshit’

“I… I don’t know…” He whispers, letting his facade fall for only a moment. “I guess someone who doesn’t see me as a failure.” 

You are taken aback by his words, a weird feeling settling in your chest at the confession. 

When Steve realizes what he said, when he notices the look in your face, when he notices his mistake, he immediately draws back. 

“W-What… Failure, why?” 

He shakes his head, turning his back to you again, “doesn’t matter, um… the butter should be done, wanna give me a hand cutting the potatoes?” 

You hesitate, staring at the back of his head. You want to know more, you want to know why he said that, you want to know why he feels like this, who made him feel like this. 

A sigh falls from your lips, loud enough for him to hear. 

“Sure…”

You leave it alone, not wanting to risk getting on his bad side again, you bite your tongue and do as he asked. You clean up the kitchen table before you walk over to him, getting your own cutting board, and you start peeling the potatoes. 

You work in silence for a while, just like before, but this one isn’t as uncomfortable, even though his words still echo in your head and you wonder about his past. You don’t want him to close up on you again, not when he just started to open up, so you don’t press the subject further. 

It’s too silent though and you can barely handle it. You let go of the peeler before you started peeling the potatoes, taking Steve aback, his eyes already glaring at you as you turned and walked away.

“Really? You don’t want to peel potatoes?”

“It’s too quiet!” You leave the kitchen, leaving Steve stunned as he looks back at the door. It was quiet but he didn’t think you were going to have a breakdown because of it. He doesn’t know you and that is being a little obvious by now. Maybe you don’t do good with silence and he just doesn't know that side of you. If he knew, maybe he could have talked about something else, or try.

But not two seconds later, he starts hearing the radio turning and then static. He doesn’t remember when was the last time they turned on that radio. He can hear you changing the channels of it, the static growing and lowering, and he wonders if you're crazy. There is no music being played. Who would operate a radio station in the middle of the apocalypse–

His eyes widen when he starts hearing ‘Hound dog’ by Elvis Presley. It is static, yet it is still there. There is music. Somewhere in Indiana, someone is operating a radio station. Someone is trying to keep people in a good mood despite it all. He never knew. Nancy never knew. Eddie never tried. The three of them thought that the only music they could have was Eddie’s guitar.

He hears you humming to it, walking back into the kitchen and placing the small radio on the far corner so you two can have the music to yourselves. He is still staring at the radio, completely stunned, his eyes wide. You turn to look at him when you grab the peeler, noticing the look of surprise.

“Why do you look so stunned?”

“I– I didn’t know they played music…” Your eyes went to look at it and you smiled, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I had one back at camp too… Did you know radio signals can travel from 50 to 60 miles away? Some AM stations up to 100 miles!” He is still surprised there is music, yet you are talking away facts to him about radio signals. But that actually caught his attention. There are others, not an hour away from him. It has to be the WSQK watts station. It has to be.

“There’s… a radio station near… like thirty or forty minutes away from here…” You turn to him, surprised as well now.

“Really? Well… there’s people operating there… Probably also sending out news and messages to people.” Your attention turns back to the potatoes, starting to peel away, leaving the peeled skin scraps in a mountain on the counter. 

“That’s… good to know.” It actually is good to know. They thought that the only radio signal they could ever get for news was Mr. Clarke’s transmitter that is in the library. That’s how they got contacted by Hopper when the others arrived in California, and now he is finding out that maybe some radio stations are still transmitting. They are probably using some kind of solar panel to make energy because–

“This potato has a worm.” He snaps out of his thoughts immediately at your words, frowning as he looks down at it. 

“There’s no worm there.” You slowly look up at him with a cheeky smile, only to look back down, leaving that peeled potato aside to grab another.

“You were thinking too much. Just enjoy the music, you can think later.” You reply and he blinks for a few seconds as the song keeps playing. He looks back down to his carrots, grabbing the knife he left on the side to keep cutting. The minutes pass, the songs changing, songs he knows. Songs that remind him of when the world didn’t simply go to shit. 

And there’s some kind of comfort in that.

“Did you know Marvin Gaye was shot by his own father?” You have been spitting facts and news to him that he either knew or never knew, and he didn’t notice he found himself talking back at you, even giving a fact or two of his own.

“I did, that was crazy as shit.” The song ‘Sexual Feeling’ was playing, that’s why you started talking about that with him. Each song that passed, you said something about it. You were stirring the vegetables in the boiling water while he sauted the meat in the pan, with the butter you made. He threw some rosemary in it too, for extra flavour.

One other thing he didn’t notice was that he had been humming along all this time.

He had two pans where he was cooking four pieces of meat, while you worked on making sure the vegetables were properly boiled. You had added some garlic in the pot because you claimed it’s good for the overall health. He almost chuckled at that because it was just because garlic is delicious. There was no need to put garlic on boiled vegetables. 

You two didn’t even notice that even in the silence of conversation, where just the music played, there was no more awkwardness. There was no tension. There was nothing that could make you think he didn’t like you anymore. 

“Is that Marvin Gaye?” The sound of Nancy’s voice makes the two of you turn around, and she is surprised to see you working together. It’s been days since you two last had a proper conversation, and– “Wait… music?”

“Yeah. She kind of discovered it. Nance, we didn’t know the radio station was still functioning, for a whole year.” Steve’s voice makes you feel proud, knowing you helped and that he was actually surprised by your discovery. Nancy blinks a few times, not believing her ears.

“Wait, so it means we can use that to receive news…” Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle for a second, only to then nod slightly.

“I bet they’re not different from the news we get from the transmitter in the library, Nance.” His head turns back to the meat, while you grab four plates, stacking them next to him. “Thanks.”

You try to tone down your giddiness, not wanting to show him you are really happy he is being civil and friendly with you, “No problem.”

Nancy’s eyes travel back and forth with the two of you, wondering what had changed, but it is better not to ask. Seeing Steve putting steak on each plate while you grab a colander from the cupboards below the sink. You are about to grab the pot yourself, grabbing kitchen clothes to not burn yourself on the handles, but Steve grabs them from you.

“Let me.” You see how he grabs the pot, not letting you do it, not letting you carry the heavy weight yourself.

“Um–” You don’t know how to react or say, kind of confused at his action, but you don’t dislike how much of a gentleman that move was. Nancy hums a bit to herself, clearing her throat before yelling out.

“Eddie! Food’s ready!” Your head turns to look at her, and you snap from your thoughts, not noticing you had been looking at his arms as they strained a bit when pouring the water into the colander. You quickly move to the cupboards to start setting up the table with Nancy as Eddie walks down the stairs. 

“Oh, shit, we eating Steve’s delicious steaks?” Steve rolls his eyes but he’s proud of his cooking. It’s one of those things he knew he was good at, and he never received any complaints.

“Just set the table up, Munson.” He replies and Eddie immediately moves to grab the water out of the fridge and set it on the table. You go back to the counter, next to Steve, and grab a big scooping spoon. Steve hands you one plate, with a steak on it, and you just add some boiled vegetables on it before placing it in front of Nancy as she sits down.

Once you are all seated, Eddie doesn’t even wait a second before he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth, moaning as if he’s in a porn movie, making the other three of you cringe.

“Do you have to do that everytime you eat his steak?” Nancy asks as she cuts herself a little piece, Eddie turning to look at her, with his mouth full.

“Its’ ‘fee biss’ stek’ i’ve evur’ haf.” You snort into your water at the nonsense he just mumbled  because of his mouth full of food. Steve holds in a chuckle as he grimaces in disgust.

“Can you chew and swallow before you talk?” And Eddie glares at him only for his eyes to widen up as he looks around, a frown in his eyebrows. He chews quickly, swallowing where he almost choked.

“Is that– ‘Take on me’? Is that fucking music!?” Nancy snorts as you all realize that Eddie hadn’t even noticed the music playing because he was more focused on Steve’s steaks. 

You explain that you have found a few channels over the months every time you come across a radio somewhere, though none of them have played metal music. 

“Maybe you gotta do the heavy metal channel,” you shrug. 

“Huh, you know what? Maybe I will, once I figure out how to, I fucking will,” he nods happily before he takes another bite of his steak. 

Steve chuckles a little to himself, though he keeps his eyes trained on the plate before him. Nancy and Eddie share a look of surprise, it’s been a while since they saw him so… relaxed. 

For the first time in a while, he joins in on the small talk during dinner, commenting and nodding along to the things you talk about. A sparkle of hope is inside of both Nancy and Eddie, hope that maybe there is still something left in him wanting to try, wanting to live, wanting to fight for something better. 

Maybe he is ready to leave now, maybe he is learning how to let go. 

Eddie wastes no time in wanting to find out, because the moment you are all done eating and he pushes the empty plate away from him, leaning back, he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fishing something out. 

You all watch curiously. 

Eddie flashes you a smile when you lean closer, trying to peek over the table. He lifts his arm up and throws something over to Steve, the unmistakable sound of jingling keys passing by you, a flash over silver before your eyes before it lands in Steve’s hand. 

Steve looks down, feeling the metal in his palm, his fingers are closed around it. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is, the happiness in Eddie’s eyes and the dreadful feeling in his stomach tells him exactly what it is. 

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at nothing in particular. 

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, impatiently. 

Eddie looks at the both of you, unable to contain the smile on his face as he starts jumping up and down on his chair. 

“I finished it,” he explains proudly, though neither of you understand what he means by that as you both give him questioning looks, to which he sighs. “The RV! It’s up and running! We can finally get out of here!” 

“Seriously?” Nancy nearly squeals, her eyes lighting up at his words, she nearly jumps from her chair, almost knocking it over. 

You know that she’s been waiting for this, waiting to be reunited with her family again. 

“Yeah! We’re going to California, baby!” Eddie exclaims, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “So you better start packing your bags.”

You smile, sharing their relief as well. You've been waiting for it too, waiting to finally see your family again, though in this moment, you fear looking over at Steve, knowing how he feels about leaving Hawkins. You still turn your head, daring to take a glance and you find exactly what you thought you would. 

His features are no longer relaxed, his lips are no longer curled into a smile, his eyes aren’t soft like they were before. A mixture of sadness and anger lingers in them, and when he looks at you, meeting your eyes, you feel a shudder running down your spine, he no longer is the one from before, the one that laughed with you, the one that talked with you like you were his… friend. 

He clenches his jaw and he turns away again, throwing the keys back to Eddie who catches them with one hand, the smile falling from his lips when he finally notices the frown on Steve’s face. 

You all flinch a little when the chair scrapes against the hardwood floor and the brunette picks his plate up angrily before walking over to the kitchen. 

Nancy’s smile falls and her shoulders slump, helplessly she looks at Eddie. 

“Dude, you know we can’t stay here,” Eddie states carefully, with a soft and gentle voice. “We’re gonna run out of everything someday, you can’t prevent–”

“We won’t run out if we go hunting,” Steve grumbles. 

“There’s nothing left here for us, man. We got people waiting for us–”

Suddenly, Steve turns around, with his eyes angrier than before and his cheeks burning red, “you got people waiting for you! Leave me out of this!”

Nancy frowns in disbelief, as well as Eddie who gets up from his chair as well, throwing the keys on the dining table. 

“Seriously? You’re telling me that the kids aren’t waiting for you? That they haven’t been asking for you every time Dustin radio’d us and you’ve been acting like a complete asshole, refusing to speak to him – to them?” 

Steve scoffs loudly, turning back around, he makes his way over to the sink. 

“We’re not leaving without you, Steve,” Nancy speaks. “I’m not leaving you behind.” 

“That’s rich coming from you, Nance.” 

She falls silent after that, opening her mouth and closing it again, she looks a little taken aback, guilt flashes in her eyes. 

Eddie only sighs, looking down with a defeated look on his face. 

You don’t know what his words mean, you don’t know why she gives up after that. Many questions run through your head but you mostly wonder what he meant by that. 

“Steve,” Eddie tries again and you can hear the desperation in his voice, you can see the sadness in his face, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind but he doesn’t want to stay here either, he never wanted to, least of all now. “There is nothing left for us here, there is nothing left for you here, you know that, man. Robin is–”

You flinch again when he throws the plate into the sink, so hard it must’ve splattered in half. He turns around, throwing a finger at Eddie, “I told you I’m not leaving! If you wanna go, feel free to get the fuck out of here, all of you! But leave me alone!” He yells, glaring at the both of them before he storms out of the room, passing by you and out into the hallway, not bothering to grab a jacket or an umbrella before he rips open the door and leaves the house, slamming the door so harshly that you wonder if it’s still in tact or not. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline kicking in when you notice that Eddie and Nancy aren’t moving, not planning to follow him out. 

They know him better than you do, they know not to touch him now, he won’t listen, he won’t compromise, he will do more damage than anything else at this moment but you don’t know that. 

Worry settles deep in your gut, the urge to go after him growing stronger each passing second. You get up and push the chair back, leaving them no time to react before you rush out of the room, quickly throwing on your old pair of sneakers, not wasting any more time to follow him out. 

You hear your name being called before you slam the door shut, but you don’t bother to turn back around, you run straight into the storm, not caring about the rain you ran from earlier. 

You rip open the gate and close it behind you, looking around you as you try to spot him in the darkness, you squint your eyes when lightning strikes through the sky. You see his silhouette, three houses down the road. 

The rain runs down your face, soaking through your clothes already, the coldness of it clinging to your skin and making you shiver already, even as you start running after him, following him wherever he is going. You pick up the pace when he gets further and further away from you. 

Worry still gnawing at you, not knowing how he will react to you following him but you can’t just let him go like this, you know that he is angry but you also know that the anger is a mask for something else. He is sad, he is broken because of things that happened to him. You may not be the person he wants him to follow, but you just can’t let him go like this. 

You slow down when he rounds the corner of a house, disappearing behind the wall. The rain paddles harshly against the floor, thunder crashing through the sky. You almost slip on the muddy ground when you step into the grass, you halt in your tracks when you notice the surrounding bushes, somehow still full and alive, unlike most other things in Hawkins. 

You lost him after he disappeared into the garden of whoever lives or lived in this house. The white picket fence has no gate, and you can just walk through it. You follow the footprints in the mud, feeling grateful for the lightning for once. You push your wet hair out of your face, as you inch closer and closer to where he ran off to. 

You take deep breaths, trying not to shiver from the cold. Thunder makes you flinch again, though the loud crash is not what makes you halt in your tracks, nor is it the red lightning bolts in the sky that illuminate your surroundings, allowing you to see better, allowing you to take in the view before you. 

For a moment, you stop breathing, you stop moving completely, you are sure that even your heart stopped beating. You can only raise your hand to your lips as your eyes widen in horror. 

He is here, he is standing in this garden, only a few steps away from you. He is standing there with his head hung low, looking down at the grave before him, wilted flowers on it, a necklace dangling from the cross, a necklace that once dangled from her neck. 

Robin Buckley. 

The name engraved into the wooden cross, is the name you have heard so many times, the name of his best friend. 

So many feelings run through your veins but mostly shock and confusion. He talked about her like she was alive, they talked about her like she was alive, there was no sign of this. You could have never guessed. Every time he left the house saying that he was gonna visit Robin, you thought he was actually seeing her, you could have never imagined that he meant visiting her grave. 

Your heart breaks when the realization of it all begins to sink in, why he is the way that he is, why he doesn’t want to leave, why he is so filled with anger and rage. 

You swallow the sickening lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say or do, a part of you wants to walk away and leave him be, the other wants to comfort him, and the stronger part wins. 

“Steve…” You call out softly to him, your voice reaching him despite the raging storm.

He tenses up, you can see it, it takes him a moment but when he finally turns around, you realize what a mistake it was to follow him. Even through the darkness and the rain, you can see the glistening tears in his eyes, the angry ones, the scowl on his face directed at no one but you. 

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t!” He snaps loudly. “Don’t say anything right now!”

You press your lips together, taking deep breaths as you look at the intense emotions in his eyes, and his anger makes you cower away. Shivers run down your spine, not from the rain, but from how he looks at you. 

You shake your head slowly, digging your nails into your palms. You don’t know what to do, so you just stand there and watch him. Behind the hatred in his eyes, you see pain and sadness, you see how hard he is holding onto this, you see how it is driving him crazy, how it’s ripping him apart. 

“I-I didn’t know…” You say softly. 

Steve can hear the sadness in your voice, the gentle tone in it, the warmth in your eyes – he can’t stand it, he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t deserve it. 

“That she’s dead? You didn’t know that my best friend is dead?” Steve scoffs as he slowly starts to make his way over to you, inching closer carefully, staring at you like you are his prey that he is ready to rip apart, right here, right now. “Well, now you fucking do, she’s dead, Robin is dead just like most people are, just like you will be the moment you step out there!” He throws his hand up, pointing at nothing in particular. His voice is trembling, the rain streams down his face. 

You wince at his words. 

You know what’s waiting out there, you know the dangers of this world but that doesn’t stop you from finding your family, from keeping hope alive. 

You understand him now, more than anything. You don’t know how you would be if you lost someone you loved so dearly but he still has people he loves, people that love him. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, I’m sorry that you lost her,” you start, your own voice trembling, out of nerves and out of fear. “But she is gone, a-and you staying here won’t change it! It won’t bring her back, it won’t fix anything! I understand your pain, I really do… but– you have people who care for you, Eddie and Nancy. You have other people who are waiting for you… Dustin?” You say despite the shock that still curses through you. 

You don’t know whether it’s tears running down his cheeks or if it’s just the rain, but his eyes are glassy.

“Don’t bring Henderson into this! He is alive and well and that suffices!” 

“Does it really?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because you look miserable most of the time, and you will end up all alone once Eddie and Nancy are gone!”

Steve takes another step closer to you, looking down at you with nothing but hatred in his eyes. 

“I know you feel like your life is over but it’s not, I–”

“You’ve known me for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. I don’t care about your optimistic hopeful bullshit. When you find your parents and your brother dead, you will wish you never had it to begin with.”

You draw back, straightening your back, you stare at him, speechless and stunned. The words are caught in your throat, your chest aching more than ever. 

You know he is hurt and angry, and now he is trying to hurt you back. You know that they’re alive, you know that your parents are fine, you know that your brother is well. 

“They’re… they’re not–”

“You saw the world out there, open your eyes for just a second!” He snaps at you, getting closer and closer, allowing you to see him and his anger better. “You are leading my friends to their death! You are helping them leave! I-I thought you would want to stay once you realized you were safe here, that you’re all fucking safe!”

You shake your head at him, growing angry too for the things he said about your family. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to leave!?”

“Cause you are literally driving into hell! There are things you haven’t encountered there!”

“I want to see my family! Nancy and Eddie too! You have family waiting for you!” 

A humorless laugh falls from his lips, he brings his hand up to his face, pressing his knuckle under his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them again, looking at you again, “family? My family is here, six feet under!” He yells, pointing at the grave. He is blinded by rage and sadness. “The one person I had in my life that cared for me like no one else had is gone! And I’m not leaving her here!” 

You know there is no getting through to him, not when he is like this.

Steve would rather chase after a ghost for the rest of his life. 

“Leave her here?” You whisper. “She’s not here anymore, Steve! Do you really think she would want this for you? She wouldn’t! You were family, you were her best friend, she would want you to leave, to find a better place, to live!” 

If the look in his eyes could kill, you’d be buried under this ground right now. You can see that it’s getting worse, that his eyes are burning, that his chest is heaving. 

“I know what danger is out there, but I need my family–”

“Smell the fucking non-existent sunflowers, they’re dead by now!” 

Steve tries it again, to hurt you, to harm you where he knows it hurts the most but you shake your head, trying not to let his words get to you, trying not to let his words touch your heart. You take a step away from him, shaking your head. 

“No–, no they’re not,” you whisper, feeling the familiar lump in your throat, the painful throbbing in your heart, the hotness in your eyes. 

He scoffs at you, looking you up and down in disbelief, “you think you’re going to find your house surrounded by a gate of protection? You’re fucking delusional if you think so.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, taking a step back further. You hesitate, feeling intimidated by his presence all the sudden but he only follows, looking right into your glassy eyes. 

He is guided by hatred. He can no longer see clearly, the pain has turned him into this, the pain has made him cold. He doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, about the trembling in your bottom lip, about the fear and the sadness in your eyes. 

“My family is alive, I-I know they are–”

“Smell the decay of the corpses around you, and tone down that hope of yours before you end up even more hurt than you thought you could ever be. Open your eyes for once and stop acting like an immature little girl.” 

His words feel like a blow to your chest, stealing the breath from you and replacing it with pain. The colors vanish before your eyes, a darkness you never allowed to enter, blurring your vision and crawling into your veins, threatening to take over. 

The tears no longer stay in your eyes, they start falling freely as your bottom lip trembles, a sob threatening to escape you though you push it back down, not wanting him to see just how much his words have hurt you. 

You see nothing in his eyes, no remorse, no guilt, nothing but this – grief has turned him cold.

Your sniffle breaks his anger a little though, the blaring redness that flashed in his eyes just seconds ago, dimming just a bit when he begins to see the damage he has done. He sees the way your chest is rising up and down heavily, the way you're blinking quickly like it would stop your tears from falling, he sees the pain in your eyes that he had caused. 

You are crying, he made you cry when he once swore to himself to never do this to anyone ever again. 

“You’re…” Your voice breaks and you wipe your tears, as though it would change anything. “You’re a douchebag.” 

The tension in his shoulders leaves him, and regret starts sinking in. 

Robin thought that of him before she got to know him, before she became his friend. He changed, even more so when he found her. 

Has her death made him turn back around?

Has it changed him this much?

She would be disappointed, she would kick his ass for what he did just now, for what he said, for how he made you feel, for making you cry when all you wanted was to help. He knew where it would hurt the most and he chose to hit you there exactly, not caring about what it would do to you. 

You tear your eyes away from him, sniffling quietly as you walk away from him, leaving him in the rain. 

His fingers itch, his hand moves forward as though to stop you but he quickly clenches his fist and breaks his eyes away from you, looking down at the muddy ground. He closes his eyes, shutting them tightly as he holds back tears. His heart is aching more than ever. 

He knows you’re right, deep down he knows. 

He knows it’s only fair for Eddie and Nancy to leave, he knows it all, he understands it all.

He knows that she would want him to go with them, that she would force him to if she could. He knows she’s gone, he hasn’t felt her presence since the day a bird had sat down on her cross, she is gone and there is no bringing her back, not even if he stays. 

But how can he leave when all that is left of her is this? 

Everywhere he turns there’s a reminder that she was here, every good memory he has of her would be abandoned and he can’t do it, he just can’t. 

With trembling lips and tears now streaming down his cold cheeks, he turns back around, looking at her name on the cross, at the reminder… that she is gone, forever. His knees almost buckle, a sob threatens to rip from his lips but he doesn’t let it, he doesn’t allow himself to break down, even as the sadness and the guilt begins to consume him. 

“Robin,” he whispers, shakily. He knows he won’t get an answer, he knows he won’t get the sign that he’s been begging for, he knows he won’t hear her voice calling back to him, the only thing he hears is the rain, the rustling trees and his own heartbeat. He tastes the saltiness of his tears, he tastes the bitterness. “Birdie…”

She is gone and she’s not coming back. 

He lost her, and soon he will lose more. 

Soon his biggest fear will catch up to him. 

Being left behind, being all alone. 

It was bound to happen. 

Right?

-

Steve didn’t come out of his room all day. 

You haven’t seen him, haven’t heard from him, haven’t heard his voice in the hallway or anywhere else. 

He came home shortly after you the night before, you heard him talking to Nancy, heard her asking questions that he didn’t answer. You know she told him that you’re leaving today, told him to pack his bags and be ready by night. It’s getting dark out now, your bags are in the RV, as well as Nancy’s and Eddie’s, along with a box of pictures and other things that they refuse to leave behind. 

You are all ready to go, all except for him. 

Eddie is giddy, excited to finally hit the road, though you can also see his jumpiness, how he can’t seem to sit still, the anxiety of having to leave Steve behind is eating at him. 

Nancy is distracting herself, sitting at the dining table, her guns and knives sprawled across the table, a cloth in her hand as she cleans her weapons. 

You’re sitting by the window, looking into blank space. Sadness lingered in you all day, and it didn’t change throughout it. He planted thoughts into your head that you refused to think about or even consider, though now a part of you can’t help but feel anxious because what if… what if there is some truth to it? What if you are being a little too hopeful? What if you are being ignorant and foolish? 

You know he was hurt, and that hurt has triggered the anger, anger that he directed at you – he wanted to hurt someone and you were there, the perfect target, you are the reason why his friends are leaving now. 

You didn’t mention what you found out last night, not to Eddie nor Nancy. It only really sunk in this morning, when you woke up with a headache after crying yourself to sleep. 

You don’t know how he lost her but something tells you that she didn’t go peacefully. He blames himself, you saw it in his eyes. 

“We should go soon.” It’s Nancy who breaks the silence in the room, a determined look on her face. You can sense her hesitation, her nervousness. She doesn’t want to go without him, you saw the way her eyes kept flicking to the staircase waiting for him to come walking down the stairs with bags in his hands, he never did. She told him to be ready by 7pm, it’s 8 now. 

Eddie told you that Steve said goodbye, that he hugged him and Nancy, and prepared food and snacks for the road. No matter how much they begged and tried to convince him to come with them, it was to no avail. He never planned on leaving, not then, not now. 

A part of you wants to try, to go up to his room and talk to him again but you doubt he wants to see you, especially after last night. He hates you, you saw it in his eyes. He won’t change his mind, not for you. He hurt you, but you still don’t want him to stay here, to be alone, to be left behind. 

Eddie stops pacing around, he watches Nancy as she gets up from her seat, putting the guns and knives away into her backpack. 

“Nance,” Eddie hesitates, looking at her in uncertainty. 

She throws her backpack over her shoulder and shrugs at him, trying to look tough, trying to mask the worry on her face. 

“He made his choice, he wants to stay. I won’t force him to come with us.” That is all she says before she leaves the room, taking you by surprise with her sudden coldness. She walks out of the house without another word.

Eddie glances at you, taking in the frown on your face, the sadness behind your puffy eyes. He knows that something happened between you and Steve when you followed him out into the rain, last night. He suspects that he threw unkind words at you – you didn’t tell him anything, neither did Steve but Eddie knows it crashed between you. 

Now all he sees is hesitation in your eyes, despite the hurt written across your face. He can tell you don’t want to leave him behind. Eddie noticed that you had developed some kind of attachment to Steve, despite his constant cold shoulder. 

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, blinking rapidly as you get up, not moving away from the window just yet though. 

Eddie sighs, he walks over to the desk by the window, opening one of the drawers, he picks out a map he kept hidden, a copy of the one already in the RV. It’s marked up just like the other one, the town in California circled in a red color. He carries it over to the dining table, “in case he changes his mind,” he tells you. 

You furrow your eyebrows as you look between him and the map, “I thought you didn’t have a copy?” 

He makes his way over to you, a small smile grazing his lips, he places his palm on your shoulder, “guess I lied a little.” His brown eyes are sad, not matching the smile at all. He squeezes you, nodding softly before he steps away, looking around one more time, even though he’s done it a few times already today. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah…” 

He closes the door behind him, leaving you by yourself. 

You can’t say that you’re surprised by their sudden decision to leave today, but then again, they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. They’ve been waiting for it for a year, waiting for him to be ready. He never will be. 

You take a deep breath as you look around the house you found shelter in, found new friends in. You wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t follow him that day. You tug your jacket closer to your body, gripping it tightly. 

You don’t want to leave without him. 

But you are the last person to change his mind. 

You have known him for a few days only and yet he managed to crawl under your skin. You got used to him, despite his rough demeanor, despite yesterday. 

You make your way upstairs, you can’t leave without saying goodbye. 

But when you knock on his door, he doesn’t respond or open the door – not that you expected him to. You lean against the door frame, keeping your knuckle against the wooden door. 

“Steve?” You whisper shakily, hoping to hear his voice. “I uh… I just wanted to thank you, for letting me stay, I know you didn’t want to but still… thank you.”

You hear nothing on the other side, no shuffling, no footsteps, no sighs, nothing. 

A sigh falls from your lips, the sadness in you spreading further. 

“Despite everything, it was nice meeting you… Goodbye Steve.” 

You finally pull away from the wood, looking at the door one last moment before you head back downstairs and grab the backpack you left on the floor. You look around the house one last time and you can’t help but imagine him walking downstairs, where his friends once were, and see them all gone. Just himself and the ghost of what once was and never will be again.

It hurts to leave him behind, and you can’t even imagine how Nancy and Eddie feel. You have your answer once you head out and towards the back where you see Eddie wiping his cheek away while making sure the tires are all set, and how Nancy has her back towards the two of you, and her legs are slightly shaking as she looks at stuff into her weapon bag.

They are hurt from leaving him behind, way more than you are. You had to reassure them that even in loneliness, Steve will be safe. He is inside a community, guarded even if little, but he is still with people and in safety.

“Okay ladies, I think we are good to go.” Eddie says finally and you head over to Nancy, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Nance.” You see her looking at the distance, towards the same way you followed Steve the night before. You see her gulp tightly, nodding at you before turning around and heading inside the RV first. You turn to see Eddie giving you a small comforting smile as he looks at the house one last time. 

He sighs as he turns towards you, bowing down as he points with his arm towards the open door of the RV. You can only smile so little at the theatrics, and you take a deep breath before you step inside, surprised to see just how well equipped it is. Two big seats at the front, driver and passenger, then followed by counters on the side, and then a couch on the other. A pull out couch. Then at the end of the kitchen counter sat a small booth, with a small table in the middle. 

You see there is a small little hallway, which has the door to the toilet, and then at the very back end you can see the big double bed. It has a sliding door to close it from everyone else if needed. You are amazed by it, a small and nice motorhome for the three of you. Eddie enters the RV as Nancy starts the vehicle. He closes the door behind him and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You like it? I installed the pull out couch myself. We have enough gas till the next possible gas station, and hopefully there’s still some left, so we need to make sure to not run out before that.” Nance only nods as you look up and open the bag cupboard at the top of the couch, putting your bag inside as well as Eddie’s and hers. You close it and you three hear the RV coming to life finally. 

“Good job Eddie.” Nancy finally smiles his way, and Eddie puffs out his chest as he sits in the passenger’s seat, pulling the map out of the glove compartment in front of him. He had marked down all possible places they could stop at to look for more food and gas. Even toiletries. He also marked all possible gas stations, and you realize they had been planning this for a very long time.

“Okay… goodbye Hawkins you piece of shit.” Eddie says, making you hum as you take a seat on the couch. Your body suddenly sways as the RV starts to move slowly, and the excitement starts to come back to you as well as the fear of what you might encounter. You are going to your family. You are going to find your family and you will be safer this time. You have people around you, armed and willing to protect you as much as you would protect them. You won’t sleep in the mud, looking for cover under the cup of the trees. You will be sleeping either on a nice couch, or the bed whenever available. 

You see how Nancy turns the lights on and off quickly, just enough to mark her way through the trees, not following the main road so no one would stop you all. Your hands were gripping the couch tightly, not wanting to look out the window, not wanting to look back, but you were itching to do so. 

It takes time because Nancy is going as slow as possible so the motorhome would not do that much of a sound thanks to the engine. You know that people are already sleeping by now, except for the guards at the front gate, and you are taking the closed off one. The one in all chains. 

Once you reach it, Nancy stops the RV right in front of it, Eddie getting up from the passenger’s seat to walk towards the cupboard underneath the sink of the kitchen, taking out some bolt cutters. Your eyes widen as he pulls those out and you turn to look at Nancy.

“Hang on, you are cutting those open– you are going to leave the gate open for all the community inside here!” Nancy sighs at your outburst and you hear the clanking of chains, you turn your head to see Eddie holding a new pair in his hands and a lock.

“We are not that reckless and selfish. It took me some time to find a spare pair of chains this size, and a lock, but– It’ll endure.” With those last words, he jumps off the RV, and you rush to the passenger seat to see him get into action, grabbing the cutters and start snapping the chains away. 

You’re biting your lip as you see the metals falling piece by piece. Eddie hesitates for just one second before he snaps open the last chain. He pushes one of the doors open slightly and Nancy turns on the bright lights instantly. You see how he pulls it open even more and you see how there is nothing out there, giving you guys the green light to go. He gives a nod towards the two of you and pushes the first gate open and then the next one. 

His eyes widen when one bright light shines your way, the guard light tower pointing your way. The sound of a loud siren blasting suddenly and you realize you’ve been caught. Nancy and you motion Eddie to leave the chain behind, that people will put it back together instead of him. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nancy curses loudly. 

Eddie snaps out of it as he rushes to the doors of the RV, the motorhome starting to move forward as you hear the screams of people, telling you to stop, to turn back, that it’s dangerous out there. The front of the vehicle is out and you’re almost passed the gate when Eddie’s head turns to his left, his panicked face falling as his eyes widen. 

“Eddie, get in!” You yell, trying to snap him out, and Nancy groans loudly.

“Munson, I’m stepping the gas whether you get fully inside or not–”

“It’s Steve!” Her eyes widen as well as yours. She doesn’t stop moving, instead slowing down. 

You rush towards the window, popping your head out and sure enough, you see him. 

He is running fast even with a bag hanging on his back, two duffel bags on each side of his hips, his bat in one hand, the other gripping a flashlight tightly. You hear Eddie egging him on, to keep running because Nancy is not stopping, she can’t. You see the flashlights of people running towards you, right behind Steve, ready to stop you all from stepping into the danger zone. 

He can’t feel his limbs anymore from how much he ran, from how dumb it was to not tell the three of you that he had actually packed, leaving the bags in his room. Dumb to tell you that he left to give his last goodbye to Robin’s parents and Robin herself. He spent all day with her. Had breakfast, had lunch, and finally dinner. 

He lost track of time, and when he returned to the house, none of you were in it. His heart had crumbled to the floor, but it was just a few minutes late, so if he had any luck, you three were still near. He grabbed everything as fast as he could, rushing into the kitchen to shove one last thing into his duffel bag, and then run out. He ran through the woods with his flashlight, following the broken bushes and the tire trails the vehicle left. 

As soon as the RV came into view, the lights from behind him turned on, his panic rising as he didn’t have a chance to even catch a breath. He saw how the officers and the guards started running towards him with their flashlights, and he took off. He ran as fast as his feet could take him, trying not to think of all the weight he was also carrying. He could hear Eddie calling for him, his hand reaching out already for Steve to grab.

He knew that the moment he grabbed Eddie’s hand, Hawkins would be a thing of the past. She would be the past. Everything would be the past. But Robin would have wanted him to move forward. She would have wanted him to keep on going. She would have kicked his ass if she found out he was willing to throw everything away just for her. She would have wanted him to actually live.

So he grabs onto Eddie’s hand.

Eddie pulls tightly with a grunt, using all his strength. Nancy picks up the speed and throws her foot onto the gas when Steve manages to put one foot on the first step of the RV. Eddie drags them both inside, falling onto the floor with Steve. 

You are stunned as you stare down at them both. You snap out of it when you feel the cold wind, you run towards the door and shut it, locking it.

Steve is panting, no, heaving as he tries to recover his breath on all fours, staring at the floor. Eddie is sitting up, his hand coming to rest on Steve’s back. The three of you are silent, not having expected Steve to appear out of nowhere at the last minute. 

“What… What happened?” Eddie asks, his own breathing heavy from the whole ordeal, and you can just stand over them both, looking as Steve starts to shake, your eyes coming to meet in the middle in worry.

“I– I was saying goodbye– I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry–” And you can hear the choked up voice, your heart turning with sadness as Eddie’s eyes glistened, looking at his friend. Nancy couldn't stop driving, but she turned her head for just one second to look and you saw how a tear was running down her cheek, her gaze turning back to the road.

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is low, a whisper and it was the key that opened the gate to Steve’s emotions. Through his heavy breaths, you start hearing his sobs. Choked up sobs that he wanted to swallow down, but it was impossible. Soon, his tears were hitting the floor as he stared down at it, his fingers digging into the carpet as memories flashed in his mind.

He could almost picture Robin waving at him from the gate that people were already closing. He could almost picture how she would be smiling and jumping happily the more the RV drove away. How she would be cheering him on. His cries were loud, knowing there is a part of him that was being left behind, a part that he will never in his life get back. 

You could hear the sniffles coming from the driver’s seat as well, quieter than Steve’s cries of pain, and you saw how Eddie was keeping a strong face for both his friends, especially Steve who was still trying to breathe through his sobs.

You just stood there as you waited, wanting to comfort the man that was on the floor, but you knew better. It was a moment that he needed to have with his friends, with his family. You felt your own tears flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t know Robin, but from the cries of your new found friends, you realized she was loved. She was very much loved.

The road ahead was uncertain, but in Steve’s mind, only one little thing resonated, one little voice that he could hear despite the dark clouds inside it, and the screams coming out of his mouth. If he was imagining it, he hoped it would never leave him. He might have gone crazy, but he was so happy to hear her voice, at least one last time.

‘Goodbye, Dingus.’

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk

[girlsworldillusion]

Scream for me little lamb

Ghostface!Aemond x Fem!Reader

Summary: You don't know him, you haven't even seen him before. Yet this cruel killer is in your mind, entangled like a parasite. For just one night you want to get rid of this feeling - to get rid of him. What's the worst that could happen?

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Word count: 5k

Author's Note: This story contains themes that may be disturbing or triggering for some, such as: DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS OF PANIC ATTACKS, BLOOD, MURDER, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, THREATS, AND SEX. Your health (mental and physical) should always be your priority, if any of these themes are too heavy for you to handle I beg that you ignore this post. To those who choose stay, I wish you a good read!

The reader suffers from some emotional issues. But who doesn't, right?

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

Come on, it’ll be fun, she said.

You urgently need to relax, she said.

It’s just a quiet night, what’s the worst that could happen? She said.

Quiet night my ass, you think.

“Come on, pumpkin, you’re not even trying!” Your roommate scolds you, shouting too close to your ear, causing you to flinch with a uncomfortable grimace. “There’s life outside the dorms, you know? Is it really that much of a challenge to just enjoy the party?” Her pout is exaggerated enough for anyone in the room to see, even with the shitty stereoscopic lighting in the place.

“Hey, just try, okay? Smile, drink more, find someone cool to flirt with a little. I don’t know, do something other than just studying nonstop! Please try to have fun!” The liquid in the red cup clutched between your fingers nearly spills onto your clothes with the not-so-subtle push she gives you, her shrill, excited voice echoing louder and louder in your ear, managing to accomplish the impressive feat of overcoming the already criminally loud volume of the music playing on the speakers.

"Your idea of ​​fun is very different from my idea of ​​fun." You say, a good few decibels below her tone, grudgingly sipping another sip of your sickly sweet drink. "Ugh, this is horrible!" You wince at the syrupy, artificial taste of alcohol on your tongue, the bridge of your nose wrinkling in disgust - the exact same reaction as the last four times you've had a drink. Mako notices it too, if the wry laugh that leaves her lips is anything to go by. But what in the world is this anyway? And why in the hell do you keep drinking?

"Here I am, just trying to be a good friend by getting you out of that depressing cave you call a dorm to bring some action and joy into your life to, you know, expand your horizons, and you pay me back with complaints and boredom? That hurts, pumpkin, really hurts!" She's a total drama queen and your completely unimpressed expression makes it clear.

"Seriously, gaslighting now?" You roll your eyes so hard you think you can feel them in the back of your head.

"Don't blame a girl for trying!" She holds up her hand in a peace sign, another unrepentant smile on her lips.

You shake your head in denial.

"Anyway, I still find it really weird that they're throwing a party so soon after those students were killed." Your voice drops lower, looking out at the noisy crowd with a frown of disgust.

She snorts, knowing full well that something like this was coming.

"Look, I'm sad about what happened too. But it's okay to relax once in a while, okay? Shit, you're young, single, and hot as hell. You should be enjoying your life. We can't let some weirdo with a death god complex stop us from having the best time of our lives!" Your friend gestures wildly with the hand that isn't holding her glass, the alcohol in her system making her even more giggly and reckless than usual.

She exchanges 'Rated: M' glances with a buff guy across the room - a popular member of the football team and one of the hosts of the party, you recognize - winking provocatively as she shrugs her shoulders to show off her breasts, being completely and embarrassingly open about her naughty intentions toward him tonight.

"Come on, you can't honestly tell me you don't think any of these frat guys are good enough to eat in one bite."

There’s a hint of reprimand dancing on the tip of your tongue, an almost natural instinct to tell Mako exactly how selfish she’s being right now, insensitive even, with everything that’s happened recently. You weren’t close or even knew those students directly, it’s true. But they were still students at your college, faces you saw every day among the masses. They were people who had been around for a short time, walking and breathing. And then they weren’t anymore. Their young lives were taken away before they could know exactly what they wanted to do with their futures, who they were going to be in the grand, merciless scheme of things.

You don’t feel comfortable celebrating when there are parents at home crying over their children whose bodies have barely cooled underground.

But Mako was right about one thing.

The idea of ​​living in daily fear of a man you had never seen in your life was draining every bit of spare energy from you. This mysterious killer had managed to disturb you, making you constantly paranoid, scared, and fearful. You spent your days looking around, suspicious of everything and everyone, with the electrifying feeling that at any moment he could jump in front of you and make you his newest victim. He even controlled your schedule. Because of him, you barely left the dorms anymore, always declining your friends' invitations with lame excuses. Not that you were a social butterfly before this, but this was a completely different level of seclusion - high even by your standards.

The thought that this man, who probably didn't even know you existed, was dictating the way you lived your own life was disturbing, to say the least.

You looked around, uncomfortable at how everyone was shouting, dancing, smoking, laughing, singing loudly - acting as if nothing had happened. As if three college friends hadn’t been brutally murdered a few days ago. It’s wrong, and your whole body screams it. It’s not respectful, it’s not safe. And yet, for some reason beyond explanation, you seem to be the only one terrified; the only one who’s actually having your life changed to avoid becoming a statistic.

And in that moment, with that realization in mind, Mako’s words make some sense. You don’t want to give this psychopath that kind of power.

“God, is sex all you think about?” That’s what you choose to say after a long pause, sighing in boredom at the nothing less than shameless winks your friend is giving the guy through her eyelashes. The guy, surrounded by his usual horde of friends who are just as scoundrels as he is, is returning Mako’s advances with double the intensity and lack of decorum; splaying a large hand over his jeans, right where the bulge of an admittedly sizable erection is, grinning at her like a mediocre porn star. Any more obvious than that and they’d be fucking right here on the floor, in front of all these people.

That, coupled with the creeping onset of a growing headache with each deafening beat of the speaker and the unstoppable chatter of the students around you, is making you more anxious than usual. The mass of bodies squeezing against each other to the rhythm of the music is so thick that you can barely tell one person from another; the smell of alcohol, shared sweat, sex, and cheap weed makes you wrinkle your nose every few minutes.

For socially stunted people like you, there were few things as overwhelming as a frat party roaring at the top of its lungs.

“Hey! Don’t blame me for this, blame those thirsty youthful hormones.” She shrugs as she speaks, tilting her head to slyly wrap the straw between her lips and suck on some more of her drink, her catlike gaze dancing indecisively between you and the guy from the football team.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but feel a bit tinge of envy at her easy, playful attitude, the way she could just tune out her problems and enjoy the ride. She’s at home here, you notice; a natural in her habitat. This is normal for her — just another night amidst the noise and blatant flirting, playing with lewd looks that by itself carry more sexual activity than you’ve experienced in months.

Mako has always been your antithesis; bold and vibrant, seeing a bright and fun side to every situation — no matter how fucked up it was. Always trying to color the monochromatic palette of the world with the eccentric catastrophe that is her personality.

You, on the other hand…

Suffice it to say, your way of seeing the world is far less optimistic.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation for a second, already knowing that you’re going to regret your next decision.

But you were already here, right? And she said it would be fun. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try and enjoy it.

You sigh deeply before changing your expression, looking up at an expectant and anxious Mako, practically bouncing on her feet as she awaits your decision.

"So...you think I'm hot, um? Tell me more about it." Your lips stretch into a forced smile as you awkwardly shake your hips in that stupid Sailor Moon costume she forced you to wear, trying to have even a fraction of the blissful ignorance that naturally flows from your friend. You want to enjoy the ride. Even if the base boost of the music is threatening to tear down not only the walls of the frat house, but also the ones in your skull.

Mako's loud laugh assures you that you've managed to make her happy.

It's like she said...

What's the worst that could happen?

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"No, no, no, not now..." You get your answer about two hours later, with your hands resting on the bathroom counter of a random suite upstairs, staring at your helpless reflection in the mirror.

There is some kind of purple LED in place of the conventional bulbs, flooding the entire bathroom with low lighting typical of a gaming room or something, a fact that only serves to make you even more distressed. The nuances in light and dark shades of violet almost mockingly highlight your blatant desperation in the mirror's reflection.

It is true that the intense blush on your cheeks and the bridge of your nose and the skin damp with sweat could easily be justified by those drinks and every attempt at electrifying dance and involuntary contact with countless heat bodies in the cramped party room, as well as your unstable breathing and disheveled hair.

But the way your hands are shaking violently where they’re flat on the granite, or the way your heart trapped in your ribcage seems to swell until it threatens to burst, and how your throat is tightening to the point where you’re choking on tiny, fragile wheezes…

These symptoms speak of something else…

You’re about to have a panic attack on irrefutable evidence.

God, how long has it been since you’ve had one of these? A year? Maybe longer?

It doesn’t matter. Fuck, it doesn’t matter now!

You sigh a thin, impatient sound between your teeth, the strands of hair on the side of your face trembling along with your entire body, your hand letting go of the edge of the sink to palm in anguish the space between your breasts beneath the garish purple lace of your costume — where your heart feels like it’s being crushed in a tight fist.

Could it have been the deafening beat of the music? Has your seclusion for so long left you so unprepared to deal with something like this? Or could it have been the incessant chatter of the students? Maybe the sheer number of people crammed into this godforsaken frat house that was clearly not designed to hold so many at once? Could it just be a consequence of your obsessive neurosis about him?

"97..."

You're falling. Or maybe flying?

"89..."

Floating in time and space. Deaf to anything but the terrors of your own mind. Reciting decreasing prime numbers like your therapist had taught you, a conscious effort to control and distract your collapsing nerves and the painful pounding of your heart.

"Fuck...fuck...83 -, ugh!"

Your eyes squeeze tightly together, unwilling to face your ravaged reflection in the mirror any longer, your head spinning in denial. The walls are too close, the floor too far beneath your feet, your own skin too tight around your flesh.

"79," you force the number from your lips, force your breath out in shallow puffs, cold sweat trickling down the back of your neck.

The thumping music downstairs is a bit muffled now, though the party is as lively as ever - but up here you feel your world shudder and crumble beneath your feet. 

But you'll survive. You always survive.

Keep breathing...just keep breathing -

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"7..."

You've been counting prime numbers for longer than you can keep track of right now, but somewhere along the grueling hell that is imploding in your own mind, your voice has regained a bit of strength. Your fingers are also shaking less, you notice distantly.

With a pained sniff, you look up at the mirror as you feel you've regained a fraction of control of yourself, taking in the humiliating image before you.

Your gaze is dull and tired. Your nose and cheeks are redder than before, your skin sticky with sweat that's now almost dried. Your whole body still trembles slightly in the aftermath of the panic attack, and the hair around your face is messier than before from all the times you pulled it in the middle of the crisis. You're a mess, undeniably. But you feel less like shit now than you did a few minutes ago, and that should count as some kind of bittersweet victory in your book of failures.

With a tug, you pull the long white gloves off your hands to turn on the faucet, letting the water run down your cupped palms to spray a little on your face. The cold water on your overheated skin makes you sigh.

This is the kind of person you had become, isn't it? Someone incapable of going to a simple frat party without having a damn panic attack. How pathetic.

"That's it, no more parties for you, young lady." You mumble as you dry your hands and cheeks on the fluffy towel hanging next to the sink, silently praying that your shaky legs will cooperate on the walk to your dorm on the other side of campus.

Mako wouldn't much like knowing that you were already leaving, but you'd like it even less for her or any of your friends to know about your little meltdown in the upstairs bathroom. It was bad enough that you had no control over it, you didn't need to see the pity reflected in her eyes when she found out, only adding to your humiliation.

Poor little broken thing, she would think.

Maybe you could just slip away without being seen and text her when you got dorms to say you were okay, leaving her questions to deal with later. You had already handled more than you could handle tonight, she would understand eventually. Not that she would notice your absence for a while, busy as she was swapping saliva and other bodily fluids with that guy.

Your phone vibrates abruptly on the counter and you jump at the unexpected noise, blinking rapidly at the letters on the screen.

Unknown Number.

With a eye roll and a still-racing heartbeat, you decide to just ignore the call, as you usually do every time an 'unknown number' pops up. Honestly, who still makes calls these days when you have a messaging app that works just fine, thank you very much? But whoever is behind that call doesn't feel the same way, and soon your iPhone's screen flashes again, bright as a beacon in the purple bathroom lighting, the device moving a few inches across the counter with the vibrations. You sigh and ignore it once more until you're done, but it vibrates again on a third try. And a fourth, when the last one doesn't work.

On the fifth try, you pick up your phone and answer with an exasperated huff, summing up your mood perfectly.

"Hello?"

The person on the other end of the line has the audacity to let out a sigh of relief - dramatic even, you might say, upon hearing your voice.

"There she is. For a moment there I thought you weren't going to answer, princess." The voice that greets you is soft, laughing, a satisfied and calm masculine purr.

"I tried. What do you want?" You answer sullenly, not in the mood to deal with this probable pervert who has nothing better to do with his life than to disturb random people late at night. You were never the brightest star when it came to social chess, and you certainly wouldn't start being so soon after your first panic attack after so long without any episodes. You were out of practice. Your head throbs, your nerves are frayed, your voice is fragile, the muscles in your body ache from the time you spent tense and trembling during the crisis. You just want to go bed.

"Easy now, little girl. I just want to know if you're okay." He hums, oblivious to your irritation.

You know he clearly hears the disdainful snort that leaves your lips. Before you can respond, however, he continues with the sentence that would change your life forever.

"That was really bad...are you sure you're better now?"

You blink at the mirror, your brows furrowed in irritation and headache. You know you should just end the call, not entertain any malicious intentions from this stranger. Yet, you find yourself answering before you even realize it.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your panic attack, love. That was a big one, hm? I thought it would never end." He hums nonchalantly, as if discussing his favorite ice cream flavor, and you part your lips at your reflection, a warning shiver settling at the base of your neck and slowly making its way down your spine.

"Um," you swallow uncomfortably, subtly glancing up at the walls and tight corners of the bathroom, looking for possible openings or hidden cameras. You had the bad luck to walk into some weird, perverted frat nerd's room, is that it? "So you're at the party too. Having fun time?" You shrug in the mirror, trying to sound blasé about what he said, but your voice is noticeably shakier than you’d like.

There’s no reason to be nervous, you try to reason with yourself when your visual scan doesn’t point to any apparent cameras. This guy probably just saw you hurrying up the stairs and is curious about your delay in returning to the party, that’s all. Although it’s still weird, since you made sure to hide in the privacy of the bathroom before your meltdown was actually noticeable to any prying eyes.

And how the hell did he have your number anyway?

"Oh yeah. Having a great time." The man answers, the lightheartedness in his voice fading to a deeper, darker tone at the end, though the smile in his voice is clear - mocking, even through the call line.

"By the way, I loved your costume. Which Sailor are you?" He prompts, returning to his airy tone, and you entertain once again the urge to just hang up on him, your already severely damaged nerves not quite able to handle the load of honest, and pointless, curiosity in the stranger's husky voice. The abrupt change in intonation makes your headache throb more by the second.

"Uh, Sailor...Mars...I guess?" You shrug, unsure why exactly you bother answering, the tip of your index and middle finger on your other hand coming up to massage your temple in slow circles, eyelashes resting on the top of your cheeks as you squint tiredly. Honestly, you're not sure if your answer is right. Having barely time (or interest, to be honest) to assess the costume before tonight - when it was shoved rudely in your face by a Mako determined to bring you to this party. You don't trust your knowledge of Sailor Moon, or any anime for that matter, to confidently answer the man's question. But...yeah...you think you might be right.

"It looks so cute on you, sweetie." He purrs on the other side; sickeningly sweet, sweet as molasses. And that's what makes you straighten up in front of the mirror - his voice suddenly sweet. Your eyes become fixed, a small hitch in your breath; suspended, alert, waiting for his next words. "I've thought so since you arrived at the party. So cute and so fucking pretty. Tiny and pretty in that silly costume."

"W-what? Who's...?" You swallow uncomfortably, but he interrupts you.

"So pretty, and so lonely too. Always lonely, aren't you sweet girl?" The way he says it, confident and calm, as if he’s absolutely certain of what he’s saying, as if he knows you. You squirm, agitated and raw, but you clench your fist at your side.

“And how would you know that?” You want to sound sharp, but you know your voice betrays how much he’s upsetting you.

“Oh, I can see that, princess.” He breathes, followed by a low hum, stretching out an enigmatic pause until your fingers are trembling around the phone. “I see how you’re always alone; misfit and scared, like a little deer hiding from the glare of headlights to avoid being caught. Isn’t that what you do, love? Trying everything to get away from that airheaded friend of yours and others equally idiotic, burying your nose in some book in the quietest part of the library so you don’t have to talk to anyone. Your hiding place, isn’t it?” He laughs with clear disdain and you feel your vision blurring, the discomfort in your stomach worsening with each word he utters.

But he doesn't stop there.

"I see how those beautiful eyes are always brimming with emotions, emotions that you deliberately refuse to share with anyone, no matter how much they insist that you open up. It's interesting how you have social options, but you choose solitude every single time. Not that that's a complaint, of course. Solitude suits you well, sweet thing."

Your breathing is faster now, loud enough for the stranger on the other side to hear, but you don't care about that. All you can think about is the information the man spewed into your ear.

He knows where you retreat to escape the incessant noise of the world around you, he knows the walls you've built around yourself, the emotional blockage in opening up to anyone - your complete unwillingness to do so. He’s not just talking about the color of clothes that you usually wear around campus — a quirk that anyone could notice and use to scare you at a time like this. No, it’s not that simple. He’s talking about intimate things, about feelings; things that only someone who lives with you could say.

The thing is, you’re not an idiot. A self-imposed hermit with anxiety issues? Of course yes. But not an idiot. You understand enough about human psychology to know that every word that comes out of this stranger’s mouth is a threat cloaked in a teasing, sugar-coated tone. And the fact that he’s telling you personal things isn’t coming from some bizarre attempt to initiate a social interaction with you, but a demonstration that he knows exactly who you are. The game is blatantly in his favor, because he knows you, but you have no idea who he is. He holds the power here, and he’s making that clear to you.

"Are you okay there, princess? You've gone so quiet on me sudden." His voice snaps you out of your trance once more, eyes flickering rapidly to your horrified reflection in the mirror.

"W-who are you, a fucking stalker? How the hell do you know this things about me?" He laughs at the false bravado in your voice, your discomfort obvious and clear to him, no matter how much you don't want it to be.

"Nah, more like a secret admirer, I'd say." He answers you matter of factly, the acidic smile on his lips bleeding through the line. "Secret not for long, of course." There's a hint of suspense in it, something ominous that lingers in the silence that follows, as if he's purposefully fermenting you in his dark insinuation.

That's it, you need to hang up.

"Don't call me again or I swear I'll report you to the police, idiot." You threaten with a venomous sigh. A bluff, of course. There was no way you could make a minimally consistent complaint when you not only had no information about who this crazy man could be, but there wasn't even a real number registered for that call that could serve as evidence in a future police report. Unknown Number, that was all you had to work with. He knew that too, judging by the amused laughter buzzing on the other side of the line. You still hear it clearly when you pull the phone away from your ear to click the red icon on the screen, ending the call.

You're shaking when you look up at your reflection in the mirror, the woman in front of you staring at you with wide eyes and a scared face, the rush of raw adrenaline in your veins making your body vibrate like a power cable.

She said it would be fun.

Mako said it would be fun.

You shouldn't be here tonight if it weren't for that damned promise.

The prospect of change wasn't appealing to you; safety was appealing. Habits and routine were appealing. Habits and routine kept you healthy, safe. Nothing outlandish ever happened in your life, and you almost preferred it that way — if there were no surprises, there would be no disappointments, no risks, no panic attacks.

You weren’t supposed to be here tonight, and there was no other explanation than the folish notion that some cosmic misalignment had occurred and you were stuck right in the middle of an anomaly.

You try to take a deep breath, the discomfort in your chest indicating a possible second wave of panic approaching. No, no, not again. You just want to leave, you want to get out of this damn house and back to the safe confines of your dorm room before any more horribly improbable things happen to you tonight.

Rationally, you know that leaving the bathroom doesn’t seem like the most sensible option, especially when the stranger on the phone has offered you clues that he’s lurking outside. But all your scared, adrenaline-fueled mind can process at the moment is the urgent desire to get away from this place as quickly as possible. And that’s why you take one last deep breath, offering one more look at the forlorn woman in the mirror before quickly grabbing your gloves from the counter and turning to open the bathroom door, walking out without looking up as you unlock your phone with trembling fingers to text Mako.

"Ouch!" You gasp as you hit your forehead on something solid as soon as you step out, your phone dancing between your hands with the impact until it falls to the floor with a loud thud, along with your white gloves. Your instinctive reaction is to bend down to pick it up, already fearing possible damage to the screen, a damage that you certainly couldn't pay at the moment, but the tip of a black boot immediately appears in your line of vision, kicking your phone into the bathroom with a rough blow.

"Hey, what's your problem?!" You growl, looking up, your neck craning to glare at the rude idiot in front of you.

However, the indignation dies on your tongue and your heart sinks in your chest when the empty eyes of a masked figure stare back at you.

It's a costume party, of course, and the guy is in costume. There's nothing really suspicious about it. Nothing you should think twice about.

But when your eyes slide to what he holds between his fingers; the blade of an intimidatingly large kitchen knife, dripping thick liquid in fat crimson drops onto the floor, the smell is ferrous and acrid and so unmistakable; so strong that not even the smell of cheap weed and wet sex that seems to be embedded in every square inch of this frat house is enough to cover up that odor. Blood. Human blood. Dripping and heated.

And you just know.

You know it's him.

God knows how many days (fucking weeks) your hyperfocus has been on this man. The search bar of your browser and social media was full of questions about him, hunting like a detective in the safe solitude of your dorm room, eagerly searching for any clues to his identity. Nothing but "tall masked man" was what you came up with, no matter how hard you tried. His victims didn't live to tell the tale and the few, rare glimpses of him were too vague to confirm anything.

It’s insane the idea that you could tell it was him when there was barely any information about who he might be or what he looked like, but you know — you just know.

He stands there, relaxed and unfazed as you study him with growing horror, as if it were the natural thing to do — as if he’d been waiting all along for you to open the door so he could enter. And then the masked figure takes a casual step into the bathroom, the easy confidence in this simple act foreshadowing his ease in overpowering his victims.

You swallow hard, backing away slowly as you lock eyes with the killer’s empty mask holes. The notion that there’s no way out of the room becoming painfully obvious to you. The man takes up the entire space of the exit; the width of his shoulders spanning almost from one side of the doorframe to the other, his long legs slightly apart to fill any gaps.

The only way out of here would be if you stepped over him; and that wasn’t going to happen.

So much for a fun night.

(Part II in progress, if you are interested.)

[screaminglygay]

Hop on.

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: when your brother’s bike breaks down, you turn to natasha´s shop for help, what starts as a simple repair leads to a whirlwind of teasing banter. sometimes, fixing a bike can lead to mending more than just machinery.

warnings: bike accident, but nothing horrible, then just FLUFF!!, mild teasing, brother being an ass hehe

word count: 8.9k

an: i wrote this a while ago, but i still really like this one a lot, so i hope you´ll do too:) also yes, i don´t know anything about bikes:D

"What can I help you with?" The receptionist asks, but noticing you´re worried look right away.

"Um… my brother, he- had an accident," you mumble out to her.

"Can you tell me your name, miss?" She looks down at her computer.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you show her your ID.

The lady gives you the ID back, makes a few clicks and looks back at you, "he is in the room number seven."

You basically sprint there, slamming the door open, thankfully your brother was the only person in there. But the sight of him made you confused, he was sitting on the bed, smiling as usual, just few bruises on his face and a bandage oh his leg.

"Hey, sis," he makes the peace sign, while your heartbeat is going milions per seconds.

"Hey, sis?! Hey, sis?! What the hell?!" You walk up to him and smack him.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He scratches his head.

"What was- are you kidding me?" You pull out your phone, "25 minutes ago, I got this message from your friend: 'hey, don´t freak out, but your brother is going to the hospital, bike accident.' I rush here, committing like thirty-seven crimes…and you´re here smiling and saying 'hey, sis?!'"

"Oh… Kevin´s idiot," he shakes his head.

"No, you are! What the hell happened?!" You move your hands around.

"Can you just chill for a second? Jeez." He stratches, "We were riding, normally, but then one of the cars cut me off and I slipped. I´m fine, but bike was pretty fucked up." As he tells you the story of what´ve happened, you scan his face, obivously you´re glad he is okay, but deep down you´re angry that he still rides that thing.

"Are you sure you´re okay? You look down on his leg.

"Yeah, nothing that didn´t happened before. But uh… I need ride back home." He shifts in his position, even when he tries to mask it, he is still in some visible pain.

"I figured. Stay here, I´ll get someone…"

After two hours he is finally let out of the hospital, you help him into the passenger seat, careful not to jar his injured leg. As you close the door, you mutter, “I swear, one day that bike is going to be the death of you.”

He rolls his eyes as you start the car. “You worry too much. It’s not like I haven’t crashed before.”

“Yeah, and you’re still riding that death trap.” You grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “Why do you even keep that thing? It’s not like you can ride it anytime soon.”

He winces as he shifts in his seat, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I need it fixed, okay? I’ll be careful next time. Can you help me with that… pleaseee?

You let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you didn’t end up worse. Fine, I’ll take care of it, but you’re not driving that bike again until I’m sure it won’t fall apart under you.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he says, softer than before, like he knows you mean well even when you’re pissed. He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “You know, there’s a mechanic not far from here, Red Guardian.”

You nod, making a mental note. “I’ll check it out. But you, mister, are on bed rest.”

"Aren´t you three years younger than me?"

You glance at him, "and yet I´m the smarter one, so bed it is."

“Whatever you say, mom.”

...

Two days later you finally arrive at Red Guardin, a place that looks far more organized than you expected for a bike shop. The sign is simple, but the place has a charm, just like you’d heard. You park your car and walk inside, the smell of oil and metal hitting you as you step through the door.

A woman with fiery red braided hair is leaning over a motorcycle, hands deep in the engine. She doesn’t look up as she says, “Be with you in a sec.”

You clear your throat, trying not to be too obvious as you check her out. “Uh, take your time.”

She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag before turning to face you. Her green eyes meet yours, and she gives you a small, confident smirk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here about my brother’s bike,” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Your brother? The guy who got cut off and ended up in the hospital?” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I heard about him. Of what I´ve heard that bike’s a mess, but there is nothing I can´t fix.”

You blink, a little taken aback. “You already know about it?”

“Word travels fast in this town,” Natasha replies, that teasing smile still on her lips. “Plus, your brother’s been in here before. He’s not exactly subtle.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course. He didn’t tell me that part.”

“So, where’s the patient?” Natasha smiles as she takes some gloves.

You fumble with your words for a moment, feeling a little awkward. “Uh, it’s in my car. Or, well, in the truck bed."

You lead her outside to where you´re parked. Natasha walks around it, examining the damage with a critical eye. She’s quiet for a moment, then looks over at you. “Well, the frame’s a little bent, and the engine’s definitely seen better days. But it’s not totaled. I can fix this.”

You nod, relieved. “Thank God. I had no idea what to do. I mean, I know a bike has wheels, an engine, and all that, but that’s where my knowledge ends.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smile. “Good thing you came to the right place. I’ll need to take it inside and get a closer look. Mind helping me unload it?”

You quickly agree, and the two of you start unstrapping the bike. Natasha shows you where to hold it and how to carefully lower it down. As you work together, she starts explaining what she’s looking for.

“See this here?” she says, pointing to a section of the frame. “It’s bent, but not too badly. I’ll have to realign it, though. And this,” she taps the engine, “will need a rebuild. Your brother’s lucky it didn’t crack.”

You listen intently, trying to follow along even though most of what she’s saying goes over your head. Natasha notices your blank expression and laughs softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m done, it’ll be good as new.”

You can’t help but smile at how confident she is. “Thanks," you look down for a name tag, but there isn´t one,

"It´s Natasha," she smiles.

You nod, "Natasha, I really appreciate it. My brother would lose his mind if he thought he couldn’t ride again.”

She gives you a quick wink. “No problem. I’m used to fixing things, especially when they mean a lot to someone.”

There’s a warmth in her voice that makes your heart skip a beat. You swallow nervously, trying to focus on the bike and not the way Natasha is looking at you with that confident, playful smirk.

You´re glad that you found the right place.

…

As you pull up to your house, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. As you step inside, your brother is lounging on the couch, leg propped up on a stack of pillows, flipping through channels on the TV. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Well?” he asks, cutting straight to the point. “Is it fixable? Am I ever going to ride again?”

You set your bag down and kick off your shoes, feeling the day’s tension start to melt away. “Natasha said it’s fixable, but it’ll take some time. The frame’s bent, and the engine needs a rebuild. But she’s confident she can get it back in shape.” You repeat what she told you earlier.

He visibly relaxes, “Natasha is fixing it? Good. I was worried it’d be a total loss."

“Yeah, well, you got lucky,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. “You’re not exactly gentle on that thing.”

He scoffs. “It’s a bike, not a porcelain doll. It’s meant to be ridden hard.”

You roll your eyes. “And that’s why you’re here, with a busted leg, instead of out riding. You should really be more careful.”

He shoots you a teasing grin. “You sound like mom agan.”

“Someone has to, since you clearly don’t listen at all.”

He chuckles, then winces as he adjusts his leg. “Okay, okay, point taken. But when it will be ready?”

Your expression softening. “Natasha said she’ll have it back to you in no time. She knows what she’s doing. It’ll be like new—maybe even better.”

He sighs, relief washing over his features. “Great-" you cut him off.

"You´ll take it easy when you get back on the road. No more stunts, no more pushing your luck. You got off easy this time, but next time you might not be so lucky.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it!” you say, your tone firm but caring. “I don’t want to get another call like that.”

His teasing expression fades, and he nods more seriously. “I know. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

You give him a small smile, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Good. Now, get some rest."

"I will, but can you promise you will check on the bike, when you can?" He gives you the best innocent look he possibly can.

"I will check it out tomorrow after work." You nod.

“Thanks, sis. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you reply, “and don’t forget it.”

As you walk away, you hear him mutter, “I won’t!”

…

The next day, you find yourself back at the shop, unable to shake the feeling of curiosity or maybe it’s something else entirely, that pulls you there. The familiar scent of motor oil and metal greets you as you step inside. Natasha is already hard at work, leaning over a bike with her back to you, her hands moving expertly as she adjusts something under the engine. You can´t help, but stare. Her toned hands are someting you can definetly look at forever.

She glances up as you approach, a smirk playing on her lips when she sees you basically drooling. “Back again? You know, most people don’t check in this often. Are you here to make sure I’m actually working?”

You snap back out of your thoughts, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. My brother’s just obsessed with that bike. He’s convinced it needs constant check-ups or it’ll fall apart. Honestly, he probably cares about it more than is healthy.”

Natasha straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag as she walks over to you, a teasing glint in her eye. “Sounds like a lot of work, keeping up with all those concerns. You know, I could make it easier for you…”

“Oh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you do that?”

She leans casually against the counter, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “I could give you my number. That way, you can check in on the bike whenever you or your brother want. Get updates straight from the source.”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered by how smooth she is. “Right, for the bike.”

“Of course, for the bike,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with playful innocence, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this. She pulls her phone from her pocket, handing it to you. “Here, you can add your number.”

You take her phone, typing in your contact details, and then you pause. Instead of handing it back, you grin and ring yourself right away.

Natasha chuckles, clearly impressed. She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. Her expression shifts into one of amused surprise when she sees what you’ve entered. “Finally, I get to know your name. Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N).”

You feel your cheeks warm slightly as she says your name, her voice low and smooth.

She grins, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “Well, I like to take my time with the important things. So tell you brother it will take some time, just to make sure his bike is ready for his awful riding."

You swallow, trying not to get too flustered under her gaze. “I´ll tell him that." You nod.

With one last shared look, you turn to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. As you step out of the shop, your phone buzzes. You glance down to see a new text from Natasha: “Just in case you need another excuse to visit. See you soon, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, already looking forward to the next visit.

...

Over the next few days, you find yourself returning to the shop more often than you’d care to admit. At first, it’s just to check on the bike, of course, but then you don´t even care to hide, that there is one more, bigger reason to come into the shop.

One afternoon, she catches you watching her as she tightens a bolt on the engine. “You know, you’re here enough that I should put you to work.”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She gives you her usual smirk. “I could show you. How about a crash course in motorcycle basics?” Before you can protest, she’s grabbing a helmet off the wall and tossing it to you. “Here, put this on.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even know how to ride.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “I’ll take care of you.”

"I- won´t this get you into a trouble?" You frown a bit.

"My dad owns the shop, I think I´ll be fine." You feel your cheeks heat up as you put on the helmet. Natasha swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind her. “Hop on.”

You hesitate for just a moment before climbing on, wrapping your arms around her waist. She revs the engine, the sound vibrating through you as she takes off, the wind whipping past your face. She’s almost intoxicating at everything she does.

When she finally stops back in the parking lot next to the shop, your heart is racing for more reasons than one. Natasha turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not bad for a first ride, huh?”

You can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

Natasha swings her leg over the bike, smoothly dismounting and turning to face you. Ugh the stupid smirk on her pretty face. “You handled yourself pretty well back there. I think you’ve got some natural talent.” She helps you take off the helmet.

You laugh, still feeling the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine. “I was just trying not to fall off. But I’ll take the compliment.”

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel her parfume mixed with oil from the repairs. “You know, riding isn’t just about holding on. It’s about trust. Trusting the bike, trusting yourself… and maybe trusting the person in front of you.”

Your breath catches slightly at her words, and you realize she’s no longer just talking about riding. You meet her eyes, and there’s a tension between you, a pull that’s hard to ignore. “I guess I did trust you back there.”

Natasha’s smirk widens, and she tilts her head, studying you with a gaze that feels like it’s seeing right through you. “Good. I like that.”

You try to steady your breathing, but it’s difficult with her standing so close. “Do you do this with all your clients?”

She chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “I don’t take just anyone for a ride, (Y/N). Consider yourself special.”

The way she says your name makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a moment of a silence between you, making you aware of how close she is, how her eyes seem to linger on yours, searching for something.

Natasha’s gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath hitches. “You know,” she says softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “there’s a lot more I could show you. If you’re interested.”

Your pulse quickens, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. The air between you feels charged, every second stretching out as you weigh her words. You know she’s definetly not just talking about bikes anymore, and the realization sends a thrill through you.

“I think I’m interested,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Good.” She steps even closer, her presence almost overwhelming now. “Because I don’t do half-measures, (Y/N). If you’re in, you’re all in.”

You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach, but it’s not enough to hold you back. “I think I can handle that.”

Her eyes darken slightly, her voice taking on a more serious note. “Are you sure? Because once we start, I don’t plan on stopping.”

The intensity of her words makes your heart race, but you don’t back down. Instead, you meet her gaze head-on, the challenge in her eyes only spurring you on. “I’m sure, Natasha.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, as if making a decision, Natasha leans in, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch is brief but electric, sending a jolt through you.

“Glad to hear it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin

Before you can respond, Natasha finally pulls back, though the look in her eyes tells you that this is far from over. She glances at the bike, then back at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You should head home. I wouldn’t want to keep you out too late… this time.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Right. I should… probably get going.”

“Probably,” she agrees, though there’s a teasing edge to her voice that makes it clear she wouldn’t mind if you stayed longer.

As you walk back to your car, Natasha watches you with that same unreadable expression, like she’s already planning the next move. You reach your car door, pausing to glance back at her. “So… I’ll come check on the bike tomorrow same time?”

Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe of the shop, her smile turning into something almost predatory. “I´m counting on it, (Y/N).”

You give her a small smile in return, feeling that same mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. As you start the car and pull away, you can’t help but glance at her going inside the shop once more.

The cool night air feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out of the car going back home, the smile on your face almost impossible to hide. As you approach the front door, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But the excitement from the evening is still buzzing inside you, making it hard to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

When you walk inside, your brother is sprawled out on the couch again, a half-empty bag of chips beside him and a game paused on the TV. He looks up as you close the door behind you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You’re home late,” he remarks, his voice dripping with curiosity. “What’s got you all smiley?”

You pause, trying to wipe the grin off your face, but it’s no use. “Oh, nothing,” you say, attempting nonchalance as you shrug out of your jacket and hang it up. “Just, you know… checking on your bike.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Uh-huh. And since when does checking on my bike make you look like you just won the lottery?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s playful, and he knows it. “Since today, apparently.”

He narrows his eyes at you, sitting up a bit straighter. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. But then you decide it’s harmless enough. “Well… I rode it, you know a test ride I assume.”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, what? You rode my bike? The same bike you’ve always refused to even sit on?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. Natasha let me try it out.”

His expression shifts, realization dawning as a smirk spreads across his face. “Natasha, huh? So, you finally decided to take the plunge… because she asked?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure it’s not,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “You always said no to me, no matter how many times I tried to get you on that bike. But one pretty redhead asks, and suddenly you’re Evel Knievel.”

You try to play it cool, but you can’t help the smile that slips out. “Well, she made a good case. And besides, you know how scared I am.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, so scared until Natasha Romanoff turns on the charm. I see how it is.”

You grab a throw pillow and toss it at him, but he catches it easily, still grinning. “Shut up.”

He throws the pillow back, missing you by an inch. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, I knew something was up when you walked in all smiley. I didn’t expect it to be this, though.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own laughter. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” he says proudly, then adds with a wink, “So, when’s the next ‘check-up’ on my bike?”

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t help the small smile that lingers on your lips. “Goodnight, dork,” you say, turning to head toward your room.

“Goodnight, bike thief,” he calls after you, his voice filled with playful teasing.

As you close your bedroom door behind you, you lean against it for a moment, your smile growing even wider. Just as you’re about to lay in bed and snuggle with your blanket, your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification.

You reach over and grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see who the message is from.

Natasha: Hope you didn’t get into trouble for coming home so late. Wouldn’t want to get you grounded ;)

You can’t help but smile at the playful tone in her text.

You quickly type out a reply: No, just had to endure a bit of teasing. My brother thinks he’s hilarious.

You hit send, still smiling as you stare at your phone, waiting to see if she’ll reply. It doesn’t take long before your phone buzzes again.

Natasha: Sounds like he’s got a good sense of humor. He’s probably just jealous you rode his bike.

Your smile widens as you think about her words, and the memory of the ride flashes in your mind. The wind, the speed, the way Natasha’s laughter had echoed in the air, it had been more fun than you ever expected. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you type your response.

You type out: Maybe. But I think it was more because of the company than the ride.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you wonder if you were too forward. But then your phone buzzes again, and Natasha’s reply makes your heart flutter.

Natasha: I was hoping you’d say that. Maybe next time, we can make the ride even more interesting.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your giddy excitement in check. There’s something intoxicating about the way she flirts, the way she effortlessly mixes teasing with sincerity. You decide to match her energy, your fingers dancing across the screen as you craft your response.

You: I’m all for interesting;)

A few seconds pass before her next message arrives.

Natasha: Challenge accepted, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.

You grin at the screen, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through your chest.

You: Goodnight, Natasha.

You set your phone down and curl up under the covers, still smiling as you think about her last text. The excitement from the evening lingers as you drift off to sleep. Whatever happens next, you’re ready for it.

…

A couple of days have passed since you lastly check up on the bike, some work got stuck up and you weren´t able to see Natasha as much as you´d like. Thanfuly the texting between you and Natasha has only gotten more frequent, filled with light-hearted banter, playful teasing, and the occasional flirty remark.

Then, one evening, just as you’re settling down after dinner, your phone buzzes with a new message. You pick it up, your heart doing that now familiar little flip when you see Natasha’s name on the screen.

Natasha: So, I was thinking… how about we do something that doesn’t involve bikes this weekend?

You blink at the screen, your pulse quickening. It’s not exactly a date invitation, but it’s close enough that your mind immediately starts racing.

You: What do you have in mind?

Her reply comes almost instantly.

Natasha: I know a nice spot for dinner. How does Friday sound?

Your stomach flips with excitement. This is definitely a date. You type back before you can overthink it.

You: Friday sounds perfect.

Natasha: Great. I’ll pick you up at 7.

You stare at the screen, a grin spreading across your face. A date. With Natasha. Suddenly, Friday can’t come fast enough.

…

When Friday finally arrives, you’re a bundle of nerves and excitement. By late afternoon, you’re standing in front of your closet, pulling out outfits and discarding them almost as quickly. Nothing seems right - too casual, too dressy, not “you” enough. You groan in frustration, tossing yet another dress onto the bed.

“Uh… what’s going on in here?” your brother’s voice cuts through your frantic search, and you turn to see him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Shouldn´t you be in bed?" You look at his leg.

He shakes his head, "what´s all of this?" Your brother nods towards the mess in your room.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your flushed cheeks and the mess of clothes around you betray the truth.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, hopping into the room and picking up a discarded top. “Who are you getting all dressed up for?”

You hesitate, then sigh, realizing there’s no use hiding it. “Natasha invited me to dinner. She’s picking me up in an hour.”

His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow as a grin spreads across his face. “Natasha? Oooo (Y/N) has a date, (Y/N) has a date!"

You nod, biting your lip as you rifle through your clothes again. “Yeah. So, I need to find something that says ‘date,’ but not ‘trying too hard.’”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. “Wow, you must really like her if you’re this worked up.”

You huff, grabbing a simple but flattering top that you haven’t worn in a while. “Maybe I do. But it’s just… I don’t know, I want it to be perfect, you know?”

He watches you for a moment, then his teasing demeanor softens. “You’ll look great, no matter what you wear. Just be yourself, and she’ll be into it.”

You pause, then smile gratefully at him. “Thanks.”

"But don´t wear that," he points at the top you´re holding, "take the black shirt over there." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, but to be honest you´re really glad, that you have your brother there, to ease your nerves. When you look in the mirror, you feel a little more confident. You can do this.

Right on time, there´s a buzz from your phone. You grab your purse, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. Your brother, ever the nosy one, is already at the window, peeking through the curtains. “Your ride’s here,” he says, smirking. “And I gotta say, she cleans up nice.”

You roll your eyes at him but feel your pulse quicken as you reach the door. Sure enough, when you step outside, Natasha is waiting for you, leaning casually against a car. But tonight, she’s swapped out her usual work clothes for something a little more polished - dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket over a crisp shirt, and boots that complete the look. The sight of her takes your breath away.

“Wow,” you manage to say as you walk up to her. “It’s nice to see you in something other than grease-stained coveralls.”

Natasha grins, her eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “You look pretty well yourself. But don’t get too used to this, I’m usually more comfortable getting my hands dirty.”

You chuckle, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I like both looks.”

She steps closer, her gaze warm as it meets yours. “Good to know. Ready for dinner?”

“Definitely,” you reply nervously.

As she opens the passenger door for you, she suddenly glances over your shoulder and smirks. “Looks like we have an audience.”

You glance back to see your brother peeking out from behind the curtains, grinning like an idiot. He gives you a thumbs up, then waves cheekily at Natasha, who waves back with a teasing smile.

“Sorry about him,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up as you climb into the car. “He’s… enthusiastic.”

Natasha just laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “He’s alright. At least he approves.”

“Yeah, well, he’s probably just happy I’m not yelling at him for riding that bike,” you reply with a grin.

As Natasha starts the car and pulls away from the house, she glances over at you, her voice taking on a playful tone. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure this date is worth the teasing you’re going to get when you get home.”

You meet her gaze, feeling the spark between you light up again. “I’m sure it will be.”

Natasha drives you to a cozy restaurant that you’ve never been to before. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard but still manages to be effortlessly charming. She leads you to a table by the window, where the view of the city lights adds a romantic touch to the evening. After you’re both seated, Natasha gives the server a nod, clearly a regular here, and within moments, two glasses of wine are placed in front of you.

“Do you come here often?” you ask, taking a sip.

“Every now and then,” Natasha replies with a shrug. “It’s one of those hidden gems. Not too crowded, good food, great wine. Figured it’d be a good spot to… get to know each other better.”

You smile, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect. And I agree, it’s definitely got a vibe.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, her gaze settling on you. “So, what else should I know about you, besides the fact that you’re fiercely protective of your brother and apparently a quick learner when it comes to riding bikes?”

You laugh, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of riding bikes. That was… a first for me.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. “I’m honored to be your first, then.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck but decide to match her playful tone. “What about you? I know you’re amazing with bikes, but what else is there to know about Natasha Romanoff?”

She takes a sip of her wine, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I wasn’t always a mechanic. I’ve had a few different jobs over the years, but I’ve always liked working with my hands. There’s something satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again.”

“Did you grow up around bikes?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Sort of,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "my father worked on bikes since I can remeber, but I learned a lot on my own, picked up skills along the way and after some years I was kinda stuck with it in his shop."

You nod, sensing there’s more to her story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. “I get that. I’ve never been big into them, but I can see the appeal. The way you talked about them, showed me around your shop… it made me see them differently.”

Natasha’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her eyes fades. “Less scary? I’m glad I could share that with you. I don’t usually open up about that stuff with just anyone.”

You nod, feeling comfortable and curious about discovering who Natasha really is, beyond the confident, flirty exterior.

“So,” Natasha says, breaking the silence with a smirk, “I have to ask… what made you say yes to this? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but still…”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely confident, I’ll give you that. But honestly? It’s because you’re… different. Not what I expected, in a good way.”

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was hoping I didn’t scare you off with the whole ‘let’s ride a bike together’ thing.”

“Not at all,” you say, meeting her gaze. “In fact, I think that’s what intrigued me the most. You challenge me, in a way that’s exciting. And I like that.”

Natasha holds your gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. “Good,” she says quietly. “Because I like it too.”

As the evening progresses, with ordered food, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your lives, your families, your dreams - sharing stories that are both funny and revealing. Natasha opens up about her past, hinting at the difficulties she faced growing up, while you share some of your own challenges. There’s a comfort in the way you can both be honest with each other, even if not every detail is fully revealed.

At one point, the conversation turns to your brother, and Natasha leans in, clearly curious. “So, what’s the deal with you and your brother? You two seem pretty close.”

You smile fondly. “We are. He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s always had my back.”

Natasha nods, her expression softening. “Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m grateful for him. And it looks like he likes you, so."

Natasha grins, the playful spark returning to her eyes. 'Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, though I think a 50% voucher to the shop might earn me some bonus points with him.

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Don´t worry, you’re in his good books. You ride a bike and you know everything about it, plus the voucher sounds amazing. Trust me, I´m the one who is on thin line here. He’s already convinced I’ve got a crush on you anyways, so…” You talk faster than you think.

Natasha arches an eyebrow, leaning closer. “And do you?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Maybe I do.”

Her smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and warmth. “I´ll take a maybe." You take another sip of wine, your heart racing in the best way possible.

Eventually, the dinner plates are cleared, and the conversation winds down. Natasha pays the bill, despite your protests, and then you’re back in the car, driving through the quiet streets. The tension that filled the air earlier has softened into something more comfortable, more familiar.

When she pulls up to your house, she turns to you with that mischievous smile that makes your pulse quicken. “So, did I live up to your expectations?”

You smile back, unbuckling your seatbelt. “More than that.”

She chuckles, clearly pleased. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you soon?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Definitely. And I´m paying next time!”

"I don´t think you will, but it´s cute that you´re figting for it." Natasha chuckles.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. When you pull back, her eyes are sparkling, and there’s a pleased smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you say softly, stepping out of the car. Even though the inside of your brain is just a big mess and your body is full of butterlfies that are buzzing through your body.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” she replies, watching every step of yours. You walk up to your front door, you glance back and see your brother peeking through the window again, grinning like a fool. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you give him a little wave before stepping inside. As soon as you close the front door your brother is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, with a grin that can only be described as infuriatingly smug.

“So…” he starts, drawing out the word with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How was it?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool as you kick off your shoes. “How was what?”

He snorts, clearly not buying your act. “The date. You know, the one you spent an hour agonizing over an outfit for? The one with the gorgeous redhead who just dropped you off?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you maintain a casual tone. “It was fine. We had dinner, talked… no big deal.”

“Oh, sure,” he says, nodding along in exaggerated agreement. “No big deal at all. That’s why you’ve got that goofy smile plastered on your face.”

You try to suppress your grin, but it’s no use. “Okay, fine. It was… great. Happy?”

“Very,” he says with a smirk. “But I need details. What did you guys talk about? Did she kiss you? Are you two going on another date?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his barrage of questions. “Slow down, detective. We just had a nice dinner and got to know each other better. And yes, we’re definitely going to see each other again.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No kiss, though?”

You pause, remembering the kiss you gave Natasha on the cheek before you got out of the car. “I´m not gonna discuss that with you."

“So that´s a yes. Ha! I knew it!” He points at you triumphantly. “So you like her. Like, really like her.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I do,” you finally admit, exasperated but still smiling. “But you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“Oh, but it is a big deal,” he says, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“You’ve never looked this happy after a date. I’m telling you, this Natasha is something special.”

You bite your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah… she really is.”

He watches you for a moment, his teasing grin softening into something more sincere. “I’m glad, you know. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his unexpected seriousness. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t get too mushy on me now,” he teases, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “Just… if she hurts you, I’ll break her bike.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think she’d rather face anything else than that.”

“Damn right,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’m happy for you, sis. Just remember, I still expect you to help me with my bike.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, go dream about your redhead,” he calls after you as you head up the stairs.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you think about Natasha.

…

It’s early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you arrive at Natasha’s shop. The garage door is partially open, you push it up and step inside, where you find Natasha already at work on a different bike. She’s focused, her hands busy, but when she sees you, her expression brightens instantly.

“Hey, didn’t expect you so early,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside as always. There’s a faint grease stain on her cheek, adding to her usual rugged charm.

You shrug, trying to appear casual despite the flutter in your chest. “I figured I’d take you up on your offer. Plus, I wanted to see how the bike’s coming along, of course.”

Natasha grins, nodding toward your brother’s bike. “Your brother’s baby is coming together nicely. A few more tweaks, and it’ll be as good as new.”

You walk over to examine the bike, but your attention keeps drifting back to Natasha. The shop is quieter than usual. As Natasha finishes up what she’s doing, you lean against the workbench, watching her with a mix of admiration and something deeper. She catches your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You bite your lip, then decide to be bold. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that ride we took… and how you said you don’t take just anyone out.”

She steps closer, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What about it?”

You smile, heart pounding. “I was wondering if that’s still true.”

Natasha chuckles, the sound low and warm, as she moves closer still. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, (Y/N). But what’s really on your mind?”

There’s a pause, a moment where you´re trying to calm your thoughts. You look up at her, realizing how close she’s standing, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of oil.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say quietly, “I think you know.”

For a split second, Natasha’s confident facade wavers, replaced by something more vulnerable. But then she smirks, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness that sends a thrill through you. “You sure about this?” she asks softly, her voice a low murmur that makes your breath catch.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And with that, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s gentle at first, testing the waters, but the moment your lips meet, it’s like a spark ignites. The kiss deepens, turning into something more intense, filled with all the unspoken tension and longing that’s been building between you this whole time.

Natasha lingers close, her forehead resting gently against yours, a smile playing on her lips. But then she pulls back just slightly, glancing down at her hands still resting on your waist. “I should stop before I get grease on you,” she murmurs, her voice teasing but with a hint of genuine concern.

You glance down at her hands, noticing the faint smudges of oil and grease, and can’t help but laugh softly. “A little grease never hurt anyone,” you reply, feeling warm all over, both from the kiss and from the way she’s looking at you.

Natasha chuckles, giving you a playful grin. “True, but I don’t want to mess up your clothes. You look too good for that.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, feeling a flutter in your chest at the compliment. “So do you, grease and all.”

She smiles wider, the expression softening into something tender as she gently brushes a thumb along your jaw, careful not to smudge any grease. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?” you tease, leaning into her touch

“Definitely a good thing,” she replies, her voice low and warm. There’s a comfortable silence, where the weight of the moment sinks in. But Natasha, being who she is, breaks it with a playful grin. “So, does this mean I get to take you on another ride?”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “As long as we make some more stops like this one.”

She chuckles, pulling you in for another quick kiss, this one softer, sweeter. “Deal.”

Just as you’re savoring the warmth of the moment, the shop bell jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer. Natasha glances over her shoulder, then back at you with a smirk. “Looks like I’ve got work to do.”

Before she steps away, she gives your waist a quick, playful squeeze, leaning in close to murmur, “I’ll be with you in a second, (Y/N). Don’t go anywhere.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying softness that makes your heart flutter.

With one last lingering look, she turns to greet the customer, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into professional mode. The customer, a man who looks like he’s in his mid-40s, nods at Natasha, holding a small bike that clearly needs some work. “Morning. Got a bit of a problem with my kid’s bike here.”

“No problem,” Natasha says, flashing him that easy smile. “Let me take a look.”

As she moves to inspect the bike, you can’t help but notice how her muscles flex with every movement, her toned arms and back on full display as she lifts the bike onto the workbench. She handles the machine with practiced ease, her focus entirely on diagnosing the issue. You watch, a little mesmerized by the way she works—effortless, strong, and undeniably attractive.

It’s only when Natasha finishes up with the customer that you realize you’ve been staring the entire time. She thanks the man and sees him off, then turns back to you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Catching the look on your face, she strides over, a teasing grin spreading across her lips. “Need me to grab you a rag for that drool?” she asks, leaning against the workbench with her arms crossed, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you manage to keep your composure. “I wasn’t drooling,” you protest, though the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

Natasha steps closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Sure you weren’t.” She reaches out to gently tap your chin with her finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But just in case, I’ll keep a rag handy for next time.”

You laugh, swatting her hand away lightly. "Ha ha ha, funny."

Natasha grins, clearly pleased with herself. “What can I say? I’m good at observing poeple.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “You’re also good at being a tease.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admits, her gaze never leaving yours. There’s a moment where the teasing drops, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “But seriously, I like seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in her tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice quieter now, more intimate. “Makes my day a little better.”

You frown playfully, "just a little better?"

She makes your chest tighten in the best way, "maybe a lot more than a little actually." Before you can respond, Natasha leans in, her breath warm against your cheek as she says, “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to kiss you again.”

Your breath catches, and you look up at her, eyes wide. “Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a slow smile.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you, and without thinking, you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that’s tender, sweet. Natasha responds immediately, pulling you closer, her hands firm on your waist.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, and Natasha’s smile is brighter than ever. “Now that’s how you shut me up,” she jokes, her voice still soft, tinged with affection.

You laugh, feeling light, like you’re floating. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your brother: “Hey, need a hand with something. SOS!" You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, your excitement tempered by responsibility.

Natasha notices the change in your expression and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

You nod, a little reluctantly. “Yeah, just my brother. He needs help with something. Guess I should head out.”

She offers a soft smile, understanding but with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small laugh. “Sorry to bail on you.”

“No worries,” she replies, her voice warm and reassuring. “Family first.” Natasha gives you one last quick kiss, her hands squeezing your waist, before stepping back. “Take care of your brother. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” you say softly, and with one last shared glance, you head out of the shop, already missing her presence.

When you get home, you find your brother lounging on the couch, his leg propped up with a couple of pillows. He grins when he sees you, clearly not in any dire situation.

“Sorry for interrupting your fun time with the redhead,” he teases, his tone light and playful, “but I really could use some help with this stupid remote.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Really? I rushed home for this?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” he says with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re the one who insisted on being so overprotective.”

“I-” you say, grabbing the remote and throwing it at him. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So I assume I ruined something nice, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious with Mrs. Redhead.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you just shrug. “And you ruined it.”

He laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh please, don´t tell me this is the last time you´re seeing her.”

It´s not, he knows it´s not. You do too. Everyone knows it is not.

“Now behave yourself, or I’ll leave you stranded next time.”

"Are you really just going to see her again?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I´m going to buy us some dinner, since you ate everything we had here!" He can´t help but chuckle a bit at your words.

…

It’s been a few days since your brother started walking without much pain, and he’s eager to visit Natasha’s shop to finally see his bike. You agree to take him, sensing that he’s also curious about the woman you’ve been spending so much time with.

When you arrive at the shop, Natasha greets you both with a warm smile. “Look who’s finally back on his feet,” she says, nodding at your brother.

“Yeah, feels good to walk again,” he replies, trying to sound casual, though you can tell he’s excited. “And to finally check on my bike.”

“Come on, I’ll show you what I did,” Natasha says, leading him to the back where the bike is stored. As they walk, you hang back slightly, watching them interact.

As they approach the bike, your brother takes in the sight of it, clearly impressed. “Wow, it looks brand new.”

Natasha grins. “Took some work, but it’s as good as ever. You’ll be back on the road in no time.”

He looks over at you for a moment, then back at Natasha, his expression turning a bit more serious. “Listen, Natasha, I like you. You seem like a good person, and it’s obvious my sister likes you too. But, I still have to do this.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, curious. “Do what?”

“The talk,” he says, crossing his arms. “If you hurt her, I will come and get you.”

There’s a brief pause as Natasha considers his words, then she glances down at his still slightly injured leg and smirks. “Sure you will,” she says with just the right amount of sarcasm.

Your brother chuckles, appreciating the banter. “Okay, fair point. But seriously, she’s my little sister. I’ve gotta look out for her.”

Natasha’s playful expression softens, and she nods. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I care about her a lot. I’d never hurt her.”

Your brother studies her for a moment, then finally gives a nod of approval. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hobble after you.” You laugh, stepping forward to join them. “You two done with your little standoff?”

Natasha chuckles, “I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

Your brother nods, "sooo when can I take my bike back home?"

"You can take it today if you´d like," this sentence makes you groan.

"Hell yeah!" Your brother states.

"Oh my god-" you exhale deeply.

"I´ll get it for you," Natasha smirks at you and goes to the back for the bike.

He winks at you, completely unfazed by your glare. “You should thank me for falling off the bike. Seems like it led to something good.”

Natasha chuckles softly as she overhear the conversation, clearly enjoying this. You resist the urge to smack your brother’s arm. “Don’t push your luck.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “You’re welcome, sis. I guess we are even now.”

Hehe thank you for reading!

[candysunoo]

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung as a

Bridgerton story ❀❀ ◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦dearest gentle-reader ◦ೋ•

❀my name is lady whistledown. you do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. but be forewarned dear reader, I certainly know you.❀

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung x F!reader - Queen Charlotte ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: unedited with run on sentences, strangers - to kind of friends- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s societal expectations, arranged/ forced marriage, bitchy mother-in-law, mentions of parental death, mentions of mental health ( mainly illusions to bipolar disorder and hallucinations ) and feeling like an outsider, medical malpractice, mention of feeling unloved and trapped in a marriage, SMUT, sex (like 2 scenes + illusions to more ), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), loss of virginity, slight breeding kink , praise, body worship, fingering, mention of pregnancy and birth, angst and fluff, idiots in love, ❀❀◦ೋ• lmk if i forgot anything

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: 11.8k ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀ story starts under the cut! please enjoy! - Kei ❀

❀ also i deeply apologize for acidently setting the release date on auto post wring plz forgive me. Also i will be releasing a message to the rude anons i got because there is a certain way to conduct yourself and that was not it 💕 regardless please enjoy and ignore my awful formatting 😭- kei ❀

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to enha bridgerton au masterlist ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to total masterlist ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

Today felt different. The air around you felt stiff, and it seemed as if all the staff’s eyes had lingered on you for too long. Their eyes filled with pity.  Looks that you knew all too well. After your parents had passes away those looks were all you got for the longest time. Pity for the beloved daughter of the king and queen. A young princess of ten and two. A princess made to rely on her older brother, of only ten and five, a young man who now was taking over the throne as the head of the country. Your country was small, a speck of dust in the seemingly never-ending universe of other counties. Compared to the massive land-locked nations around you, your island was quaint and for the most part rather peaceful and not to mention almost two months’ boat journey away from any other country. You loved your country and took great pride in being its princess, going to charity events and doing all that you could with what little power was given to you. Nevertheless, things couldn’t stay peaceful for long. As you neared your twentieth birthday it seemed as if your quiet little country had gained attention that you never thought it would. People from neighboring nations had made their way over and found joy in the culture and life your country provides. Some a little too much. Your brother, however, had told you not to worry as it was beyond you, and you shouldn’t have concerned yourself with it. So, as much as you despised leaving it be you did, as your trust in your brother outweighed that of anything else.

As you walked down the cream and white hallways of the palace, decorated with paintings of people you hardly knew and busts of people long passed, you heard your brother speaking quietly with someone in his study. Approaching the wide door, you pushed your long-hooped skirt back, leaning forward at your waist and peaking your head into the doorframe being careful not to be seen or draw any attention to yourself. Your eyes settled on your brother and a tall, pale, dark-haired man standing at the corner of his desk peering down at several documents. The tall, pale, dark-haired man was dressed in a well pressed white and red suit. “… And once you sign here everything will be confirmed and finalized. A ship will be ready to set sale in the next few days.” The man’s deep voice whispered quietly as he traced the lines of script messily written down on the parchment paper placed in front of them. Your brother silently nodded, eyes darting across the paper, reading carefully, hesitating to sign. Finally, your brother looked up at the man, “and I have word that she will be taken care of? That she will not be harmed and forced to live a life unbecoming of her?” The man simply gave a curt nod, “by word of the queen of great Brittan and Ireland, yes, she will be taken care of and provided a life fit for the future queen and mother of a future heir.” In hearing his response your brother nodded, placing his quill into the jar of ink and signing the documents.

Your heartbeat quickened and your breaths became short. Your brother the only man, person really, you could rely on had just sold you off to some random stranger. Well not entirely random, he sold you off to the king. King Heeseung. You whipped up, stumbling back and slightly knocking into a bust behind you, rocking it off its collum and crashing loudly on the floor. The maid passing by jumped at the noise. Rapidly you regained your posture and ran away swiftly as your brother and the man made their way out of his study. Your brother sighed, putting his head in his hands and sweeping his hair back. The man accompanying him looked at him with disbelief as your brother assured him everything would be fine and the two of you would arrive at the port in the coming days to make the log journey to England. Silently the man once again nodded, collecting the signed documents and making his way out of the palace.

With quick haste your brother followed after you, desperately calling out your name. With deep breaths you turned to face him, your skirt flipping around as your body turned. “How could you? How could you sell me off? Sell me off to a man you’ve never met? For what brother, what did you sell me off for?” your eyes pleaded with him as your voice began to crack, tears brimming on the edge of your lashes. Your brother looked at you, hand gently coming up and wiping away the tears that had finally been released. “My dearest sister, you know that never in my years would I ever imagine hurting you or leaving you in a position to fend for yourself” he breathed in deeply “ I did this for us, you must understand that we are not in a good position, every day the larger countries around us send more soldiers and I fear that we are one step closer to becoming just another victim. In marrying you off not only have I secured your future. One where you will be treated with respect and dignity. One where you will live the finest life and be able to have beautiful children. But also, one where we have the support of one of the largest nations in the known world. Where our tiny island can become peaceful once again. And yes, perhaps we do not know much about the king, however, I have on good word that he will be nothing but kind towards you.”  Your brother pulled you into a hug, gently stroking the back of your hair, “You will be perfectly fine, dear sister I will be with you until I can no longer.” Nodding you hugged your brother back, deciding that it is something you must do for not only your brother but the country you love most dearly.

Various thoughts swam around in your head as the carriage made its way down the cobblestone path. It had been a long journey at sea, but you had finally made it to the mainland. You had to admit as much as you admired your country, this one was nothing like you had ever seen before. There were larger buildings and so many people surrounding the streets. You groaned quietly and sat the book you were reading down in your lap as the carriage bounced roughly once again. “What is it this time dear sister?” your brother asked not looking up from his own book. “If you must know, I am uncomfortable.” You complained. “We have been on the road for hours now, it is hot, and I am sat here in a dress made of the finest blue silks and a corset made of whale bone. The slightest jostle pushes it deeper into my skin. Do you know what happens if it penetrates too far? Humm, do you?” you questioned, voice growing irritated. Your brother let out a small huff, placing his book down on his lap and tilting his head towards you, ‘No dearest sister I do not, but I assume that you will so kindly inform me.” You gave him a tight-lipped sarcastic smile, “It can snap and stab me dearest brother, and you will have no one to deliver to the king. Only my dead body in the finest blue silk covered with my dark warm blood.” Your brother only rolled his eyes at your dramatics and picked up his book again, “You will be fine, you have made it thus far” he said as you began to look out the small carriage window.

After a few more long hours your carriage had finally stopped in front of the main church on the palace lands. Thousands of people had made their way inside as you were being escorted out of your carriage and through the doors to a small drawing room on the top level. Inside stood a beautiful woman, dressed in a fine and pristine cream-colored gown. She handed her tea off to a maid as she stood up from the small couch on which she was sitting upon. Several of her lady’s maids ushered you onto a small platform in the center of the room. “Let me get a good look at her.” The woman declared as the maids all fled to the edges of the room. She circled you as if you were prey, poking and prodding at you.” Now what is this getup you are wearing? It is simply too much!” she exclaimed. You looked down at her, “only the finest silk of what my country has to offer.”  She let out a exasperated hum lifting your arms, “Yes, she will do just fine. She has a nice complexion and hips well suited for childbearing. If only she was in something a little more traditional.” The woman looked to your brother who was standing in the entryway of the room, “Does she know how to read? Does she know how to mind her manners?” Your head snapped over to him, an irritated look growing on your face. Your brother simply smiled, eyes begging for you to calm down. “Of course, my Queen. She is well read, can speak several languages, is proficient at both the piano forte and homemaking skills such as needle point.” The queen nodded along as your brother listed off attributes. “Very well than...” she turned her head towards you, “and what do you have to say?” Casting another look to your brother you gently cleared your throat, “It is such a pleasure to be here today my Queen. Thank you for allowing me this opportunity.” The queen once again simply nodded. “Ah yes humble too.  Get her into a traditional gown and prepare her for the wedding. We mustn’t keep the people waiting.” A series of ‘Yes Ma’ams’ went across the room as the queen left. As the lady’s maids dressed you, you tried to ask them questions about the king. Simple things like who was he really and if he was at all kinds. You got short answers all along the lines of “Well he is the king of course”. Nothing that truly satisfied your inquiries. Before you knew it you were stripped and placed into a boring white and cream ball gown.

Finally getting a break from all the hands on you and people around you, you wandered the halls. Silently you heard footsteps behind you. Turing abruptly, you found a man five paces away. Once again you began to walk, and the man followed. This occurred several times before you stopped and faced the man completely. He bowed to you, staying silent. ‘And whom might you be?” you questioned. He gave you a half-hearted smile and introduced himself as your valet and told you that wherever you went, he would be not but 10 paces behind you. You simply nodded, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Making your way back to the drawing room you looked behind at the man, ‘So you follow me wherever I go?” He simply nods. “Yes, Ma’am”. You purse your lips, “And if I were to need to use the chamber pot?” The man cleared his throated and looked at the lady’s maid that was left, ‘please go fetch one for the future queen”. The maid nodded leaving to go fetch a chamber pot and the man silently walked out of the room and waited. Quietly you tiptoed out of the room, carefully sneaking past your shadow and the lady’s maid that was waiting.

You made your way out of the large church, running into the maze-like garden. Taking several twists and turns you found yourself at a beautiful garden wall made with stone, covered in moss with vines growing up the sides, various breeds of roses covering them. Gripping into the strong vines you found a chip in the wall. Attempting to push yourself up and over it you ground as you failed. After several more attempts you stopped, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. On your next attempt you jumped as you heard a man clear his throat behind you. Fearing that you had been caught by your new footman you turned slowly, wincing as you did. Much to your surprise a young man stood behind you. Dressed impeccably in a white suit with decadent jewels decorating the edges of the jacket. The man was nothing less than breathtakingly gorgeous. His eyes captivated you, beautiful and lively. Like no others you’ve seen before. However, the smile he wore was even more heartwarming. Beautiful and kind. That was the only way you could describe him at that moment. “Might I inquire as to why you are trying to go over that garden wall” the man questioned, light hair that was perfectly styled now flowing gently in the breeze. “If it is any of your business it is because I fear he may be a beast, or perhaps a troll.” You stated looking down at your hands, gently wiping them against each other, “And who might you be referring to my lady?” the man continued. You rolled your eyes letting out anther huff and giving the man a side glance before trailing your eyes back to the garden wall, “As impertinent as that might be I am speaking of the King. No one will speak of him. Everything is so rehearsed no one has anything real to say. So clearly, he must be a beast or a troll.” You brought your hand up to the wall, finding a perfect spot; now if you’ll ever be so kind, I believe that if I grab it here, I might be able to get up. Yes! You can assist me by lifting me up here!” you exclaimed, looking back slightly at the man. The mans smile faded slightly, “So no beast and no trolls, his looks would matter to you?” “Well of course not, his looks don’t matter to me, but his heart does, and I cannot get any answer on that either” you answered curtly before speaking again, “Now come, make haste, grip me here…” you explained gesturing to your corseted waist, “... and just lift me, I believe I can make it over the garden wall.” Still looking up at the wall you don’t notice than man approaching you.

“I must be honest my lady,” you turned to look at him. “I have no intentions on helping you over the garden wall.” His smile came back, teeth white and glistening in the sun. The light of which highlighted his handsome feature. You threw him a questioning glance, “So you refuse to help a lady in distress?” you countered. The man just let out a low chuckle, “Only when said lady in distress is trying to go over a garden wall in order to not marry me.” Your face fell as you felt your heartbeat picking up again. Just like the day you found out you were to be married. You backed away from the man, taking in a couple deep breaths. The man followed, stepping closer to you. Smile reaching his eyes and his nose crinkling slightly, “Hello y/n. I’m Heeseung.” You began to apologize to him, getting ready to curtsy “Your majesty- “, however, he grabbed your arm, hand gently sliding down to hold your hand. “No not your majesty, Heeseung, just Heeseung.” Before you could speak again you heard a pair of footsteps. Your brother came rushing around the corner. “Y/n, where on heavens earth have you been? We have been looking everywhere for you” he hissed before quickly bowing to greet Heeseung. Heeseung gave a polite greeting back, “No need to be worried here, I was just chatting with Y/n. She was deciding whether she wishes to marry me.” Your brother looked between the two of you incredulously, “Well of- of course she wants to marry you” he stuttered. Heeseung simply shook his head, flipping is light hair back, “Is that truly what you wish Y/n?” He hummed at you. “Yes, your majest- “, his eyes flickered over your face making their way to your eyes. “Yes Heeseung, I do wish to marry you,” He nodded, giving you a charming smile, “Vey well then I shall see you in the wedding hall.”

After changing into a wedding dress more becoming of you, you made your way into the wedding hall. Your brother walking you down the long and narrow isle as the orchestra played in the background. Looking towards the end of the isle you saw Heeseung standing. He was in his pristine white suit; his white light hair was pushed back. Not a single strand was out of place, he looked absolutely perfect. Your brother handed you off to Heeseung before going to sit down. Heeseung smiled at you gently as he held your hands in his.

The wedding ceremony was quick. It seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Before you even knew it you had said your vows of promise and celebrated rightfully with the people in attendance. After the sun had set you and Heeseung began to say goodbye to your guest before being ushered out of the large church and into a carriage. Heeseung held your hand the entire way back to the palace, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “You will absolutely love it, before you came, I had the whole palace of Kew redesigned and made just perfect for you” he chimed. You looked at him quizzingly, “will you not be there as well?” He paused for a moment before ignoring your question. He continued about the newly designed palace. As the palace quickly approached, he finished up his explaining about everything he had done. He exited the carriage first turning around to assist you out, leading you to the doors he escorted you inside before letting you go. “Now that you shall find yourself settled, I shall return to my observatory” he nodded letting go of your hand and briskly walking away from you. You frowned deeply, “Is that how it is to be? You are there and me here alone?” You asked the question. Heeseung looked exasperated, “Yes, it is easier that way.” “For whom?” you questioned back at him “For you or for me?” He looked at you, cheeks reddening and his breaths becoming unsteady, “I will not debate this” he hissed, as you opened your moth to speak, he cut you off, “I have decided, I am your king!” His voice boomed throughout the room. Silently you clenched your teeth, wondering how it all could go wrong in a matter of minutes, “Very well, it was my mistake. I thought you to just be Heeseung. Good night your majesty.” You curtsied before turned, ignoring his small calls to you and making your way deeper into the palace walls.

Days had passed and you were beginning to grow bored in the empty palace. Your footman was of no help as you were not allowed to do anything or be seen in public since it was supposed to be your honeymoon. The longer you were alone the deeper in your thoughts you fell. When you first met Heeseung he was so charming. His award-winning smile swept you off your feet and you were so happy to marry him. The sweet way he helped you and the gentle way he had first spoke to you made your heart throb with hurt of his actions when you first came to the palace. Eventually You had grown tired of being alone, unable to do anything, only being with your footman. One day at dinner as you were struggling to cut up a piece of meat you threw your silverware down on the plate; startling your footman and the servants that were posted around the room, “Joong?” you questioned the footman, “Yes, your majesty?” “Ready the carriage.” You stated as you started smoothing out your dress. “Very well your majesty, might I ask to where we’re going?” You nodded, stepping away from the table as your chair scratched over the floor, “Were going to see my husband.”

The carriage ride was short, however it felt like a lifetime to you. Once you reached the observatory Heeseung’s footman came out. “The king does not wish to see you your majesty.” He stated firmly. You looked at him, eyes narrowing. “And if I WISH to see the king?” you questioned. The footman let out an exasperated sigh, having nothing more to say. You pushed past him and into the doors of the observatory. As you entered you were stunned at the sight of it. There were several dinner plates everywhere; along with stretched out rolls of parchment, all with various sketches of stars and planets on them. In the middle of the observatory sat your husband. His shoulders bare and exposed in the soft moonlight coming from the opening on top of the observatory. His skin glistening and smooth. Before you spoke you took a moment to look at him, wanting to commit his figure to your mind. He was tall and rather lean but at the same time, he was muscular. You had witnessed him do farm chores around the palace grounds but seeing him relaxed and in his own head was something else. Before you had a chance to alert him to your present, his footman busted in. “Your majesty, Queen Y/N has arrived to see you.”

Heeseung turned around and once again you found yourself falling into his gaze. Something was different about his eyes this time. It seemed as if he wasn’t all there. As if he was somehow here on earth in front of you and up somewhere in space. “Ahh my dearest Y/n, why have you come to me today?” he babbled, turning back to his telescope. You scoffed face contorting, “Is this where you have been the entire time?” You snapped. “Sitting in here all alone, while I writher away lonely in Kew?” The king scoffs and spares you but a glance, “Would you rather me be out visiting a whore house?”. You gasped at his harshness, “I would rather you be with someone else than to come second place to some stars.” You murmured, walking around so he could face you. He looked at you, eyes traveling over your form. “Go. I don’t wish to see you; I don’t wish to be near you. Go back to your home.” His voice is eerily quiet and calm. “Why must I go? Why must I have to spend my existence alone and with only Joong and my ladies in waiting to keep me company? Why can I not have time with you?” you questioned trying to get closer to him. He pushed you away gently, “I do not know why it is so hard for you to understand y/n. I do not wish to be near you, I do not wish to see you. I do not wish to speak to you. So go.” He seethed, voice becoming louder after every sentence. With a quiet sniffle you let out a sigh and walked out. Calling out for Joong and making your way back into the carriage.

After you had left Heeseung got up from the floor, cleaning up some of the parchment around the observatory. His footman came towards him and began to help. “Do you think I am wrong for what I am doing?” Heeseung questioned him. His footman cleared his throat, “It is not my place to say, however I do believe you could be kinder to her majesty. From what I hear it has been exceptionally hard on her…” His footman trailed off not wanting to overstep his boundaries. Heeseung sighs, shoulders bending inwards, “I know that, but you of all people know why I am not to become close with her. I could not live with myself if anything were to happen. If I were to lose control. But perhaps I may have been too harsh on her.” Heeseung confessed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He looked over towards his footman, “Find out what she likes, I wish to get her an extravagant gift” Heeseung’s footman nodded, finishing his task and going to find what was requested of him.

The next day you woke up earlier than usual. Instead of altering your lady’s maid you allowed yourself to lay in bed. After finally deciding to get up and allow yourself to be dressed you made your way down to breakfast. Another day alone, could it possibly get any worse. Shortly after you began eating Heeseung’s footman came into the large dining room carrying a small basket wrapped in red ribbon. “A gift from the king to you, your majesty, he would like to gift you a dog of the finest breed our country can offer.” You look at the footman incredulously as he sets the small basket down and a small dog comes tumbling out. “What is that?” your question. “Well, a dog of course your majesty. “That is nothing more than a deformed bunny. Regardless, as it is from the king I will accept it graciously” You nodded to the footman and signaled for Joong to take the dog. “Clearly it will be my only company in this palace.” Quickly you finished your breakfast before leaving the dining room with Joong and the dog.

After meeting with your ladies in waiting and venting to your newly trusted confidant Jiyun, you had settled down. She explained to you what your present in the palace has done for the people and how it has affected the way others are seen. Confiding in her feeling good, you felt the relief wash over you as you talked to her about everything that had conspired behind the high walls of the palace. In return she told you the rumors circulating about the possibility of an heir and the things your new Mother-in-law had said about you. Things from you being a bad wife and queen to you being un-pure when you arrived on shore. When you shared the truth about your nonexistent escapades with the king she gave you a look of pity, asking you if you had known what was to happen when Heeseung would eventually bed you. You had told her just what your lady’s maid told you, there again the look of pity crossed her face as she got up and got the supplies to inform you what was to happen.

Over the next few weeks Heeseung sent more gifts, including more dogs. You had enough to have each of your ladies in waiting carry one around for you. One day you woke up, going through your morning routine of getting dressed and pampered by the maids and going to breakfast. Much to your surprise Heeseung was there waiting for you. He seemed perfectly chipper as he enjoyed his breakfast. You sat down in front of him, eyes gliding across the room. The servants who usually seemed much more relaxed were now on guard and stiff against the edges of the room. “And what are you doing here?” You asked, easing an eyebrow slightly. He chuckled deeply, putting his for and knife down, “isn’t it obvious, I want to join my wife in our home.” You drew in a quick and deep breath, “Our home? No this is my home. A home you left me too alone.” He’s eyes soften looking at you, “I apologize for how I have been acting, but please give me a chance.” Without a second glance you got up, telling Joong that you would that your breakfast in the drawing room before walking out of the dining room. How could he think after weeks of ignoring you for the stars and sending you useless gifts you have no need for, he could come back and pretend as if everything was fine.

Over the following weeks you and Heeseung fell into a routine. Eventually you agreed to at least share one meal together and converse a little. At dinner Heeseung says across from you, eyes following you closely. “I would like to show you my observatory...” he spoke softly. Your head snapped up to him, eyes widening slightly, “Really?” He nodded, “yes I feel it’s only right that I show you what has kept me away from you for so long.” You smiled at his stately finally feeling like you were getting somewhere with the distant king. When nightfall came the next night Heeseung, and his footman came to get you from your room. You smiled softly as Heeseung gently took your hand, placing a small kiss on the back of it. As he led you out of the palace you had begun to feel nervous. What was so important about this observatory that it kept him away from you. The road to the carriage had felt like it took years. Stepping out carefully with the help of Heeseung you both made your way up the wide cobblestone steps. Entering the observatory, he opened the top to the telescope, guiding you to look inside.

“I’ve always found the planets interesting. I think it’s amazing how we can be so small and insignificant compared to the world. I have never been one to want to look at the darker side of things. Though ever since my father died at war it has been hard for me. Taking over my father’s place was the only thing I was created for. It was my only life’s purpose. I am to bear the burden of every mother, father, and child in this country.” He glances down, “Life is never easy, and I would not have expected it to be. But this crown is pressure on my head, a constant weight and reminder that I am not allowed to crack, that I am not allowed to be anyone other than who the people need me to be. I cannot just be your husband; I cannot just be my mother’s son.” His jaw clenches, eyes still cast upon the floor. You look at him, sorrow and pity finding the way to your eyes, as he continues “No matter how much I want to be, I must always be king. A king first, a king of the people, one who must take into consideration everyone. I wish to just be your Heeseung. I wish to just love you every day, to just stand by your side every day, to just be with you every day for the rest of my life… “You approach him, hands finding their way to his arms, gently tracing down them, “but you don’t have to do it alone, I’m right here, I too simply wish to be with you. In every way, with joy and with sorrow. I just want to be with you.” He looks at you, eyes soft and a charming smile making his way to his face. Gently he takes your face in his hands, leaning down and brushing your lips together ever so slightly.

Your heart jumps into your throat, another nervous feeling washing over you. This time it makes you feel giddy and excited rather than anxious. Slowly you lean into the kiss. Finally pressing your lips together. His hands find his way from your face softly sliding down before settling on your waist, pulling you closer into him. The world itself seemed to pause as the kiss went on. Lips against lips, and breaths interchanging with each kiss. As you leaned into his embrace, he pulled back resting his forehead against your hands still gripping at your waist. “Let’s go home.” The simple statement from him made you flustered, you could feel your cheeks warming up. Nevertheless, you nodded, and he once again led you out and to the carriage, holding onto you the entire way back to the palace.       

Once you go to the palace Heeseung once again helps you out of the carriage, holding on to you ever so gently. Making your way inside through the large palace doors you both stop in the foyer, your maids coming up to assist you in getting ready for bed as it had become quite late. You look around, eyes finding Heeseung, he gives you a smile and allows them to take you away, “Go and get comfortable, I’ll find you later” he smiles at you once again giving you a small kiss. Simply nodding you allow yourself to be taken up the grand staircase and ushered into a bathroom, the ruby and gold encrusted tub sat in the middle with heaps of steam rolling off the top of the water inside. “We took the liberty of drawing you a bath Ma’am” your maid said, you nodded at her in thank you allowing her to undress you from your corset and large gown before getting in the bath. After being thoroughly scrubbed down by your maid you had finally gotten out of the bath. Your maid dressed you in a white button-down night dress. Making your way back to your room you let out a sigh, rolling your shoulders as the maids opened the door for you.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked into the large opulent room. Sitting on the large bed in the middle of your room was Heeseung. Leaning back on his hands, clad in just a pair of night pants and an unbuttoned night shirt showing off his chest. He glanced over at you as you entered the room, pushing himself up and walking towards you. He takes you hands in his, binging them up to his mouth and kissing them softly, “You look simply mesmerizing, y/n”, your cheeks heated up once again at his complement, looking down at your intertwined hands you smiled. “Thank you…” You unlaced your fingers bringing your hand up to cup his face, bringing your faces closer together. You leaned in close to him, softly pressing your lips together. Before you could go any further, he stopped you, “Are you sure this is something you truly want?” His question caught you off guard and you thought back to what you were told by one of your ladies in waiting. “Of course I want this, I want to be with you” you whispered to him. He smiled, kissing you gently, “Do you know what is to happen?” you nodded silently, “I have been told… however I did not enjoy the part where my head is to hit the wall repeatedly” he let out a low laugh and caressed the back of your head, “That okay my love, we can stop that.” You took note of how his eyes crinkled at the side as he leaned down and kissed you.

You pulled away, reaching to start to unbutton your night dress, “I fear I may have made a wrong choice of wardrobe” you said as you struggled with the various buttons. He shook his head, “no do not worry about it, I’m very good with buttons.” His hands followed yours as he pulled you closer to him, lips pressing against the sides of your neck. With little effort he popped the buttons down your night dress. A small moan escaped from your throat as Heeseung continued to trail kisses down your neck, biting and sucking gently. Slipping the dress off your shoulders and allowing it to fall on the floor leaving you completely exposed. He leaned back, admiring you, “you are beautiful, you are everything I imagined you to be and more…” your ears began to ring, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck. You thanked him with a kiss, running your hands up his sides sliding them under the top of his unbuttoned shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. “As are you” he shook his head, turning and softly pushing you down onto the plush bed, “I can simply never match your beauty, you are ethereal.” His statement made your heart race. Your breath quickened as Heeseung once again began kissing down your neck, hands gripping harshly at your sides, “you are ever so perfect my love.”

You let out a whiny moan hands coming up and gripping his hair as you reflexively arched into his touch. His lips found their way to your chest. Another soft moan escaped your lips as his hot mouth wrapped around your pert nipple, his other hand coming up and gingerly tweaking the other one. It was a new sensation to you, one that sent shockwaves of heat throughout your body. You bit your lip letting out small puffs of air but concealing your moans. Heeseung’s eyes trailed up to meet your as he switched from one nipple to the other, “Do not hide your beautiful sounds from me I wish to hear them. To know that I am making you feel the upmost pleasure.” You nodded silently a gasp leaving your mouth as you felt his hand train from your breast and down to your thighs. Heeseung had stopped his assault on your chest and nipples; allowing himself to slide further down into the bed. You felt the same surge of heat flood through you. Both of his hands fell onto your thighs, gently pushing them apart and exposing you to him. You shivered as his fingers gently spread your folds. Without holding back, he licked up from your entrance mouth circling around your clit and sucking on it harshly. Your hips jolted, hot pleasure brining through you at the new sensation. A whine left your throat as your hands ran through his hair pulling on it. Heeseung moaned against you, dipping his tongue into you and savoring your taste on his tongue.

Slowly he begins to trail his hands up and down the inside of your thighs before slipping two fingers inside of you focusing his efforts back on your clit. The stretch of his fingers is a bit uncomfortable but still pleasurable. He waits to let you adjust to the feeling before slowly starting to thrust them. A gasp leaves you at the feeling.  Clenching down on his fingers you start to follow his movements, pleasure seeping into every limb as you pull at his hair. With a breathy moan you cum, legs trying to close at the newfound feeling. Heeseung’s hand grips your thigh, forcing your legs to stay open as he licks up what he can of your arousal.

Heeseung moves back up in the bed, pulling his fingers from you and sticking them in his mouth. Your face burns at the sight, Slowly Heeseung pulls of his pants, your eyes trail downwards to his exposed cock. It was long and hard, leaking precum and red, slowly Heeseung starts grinding gently against you, “Are you doing okay my love?” he asked, his voice gentle and caring. You let out a nod slightly spent from the previous orgasm, Heeseung shook his head, “No, I need words dear.” Breathing heavily, you once again nodded, “Yes, yes, I am doing so good please continue.” Heeseung nodded, bending over to give you a deep kiss. Slowly he lined himself up, rubbing his tip against your clit before he pushed into you, although he had thoroughly stretched you out there was still a slight burn. Your hands moved up to grip his shoulders, nails digging into them as he stopped moving, allowing you time to adjust. After a brief pause, he looked down at you, waiting for you to allow him to continue, you pulled him down, giving him another kiss, “I think I am okay now...” you mumbled against his lips. He nodded, gripping your thigh and pulling your leg up onto his waist pulling out slightly before thrusting in again. After a few experimental thrusts he started to speed up. With a loud moan you through your head back, mouth open and hands gripping tightly at him. “You look so beautiful, so perfect for me” he huffed continuing to bury himself deep inside you. You whine, eyes clenched shut in pleasure. “You feel so good wrapped around me” he groaned, thrusting relentlessly into your velvety walls. You moaned loudly, small pleads of pleasure leaving your lips. “You’re going to look so good with my seed dripping out of you, humm would you like that my queen?”

His filthy words draw you closer to your impending orgasm. You nod, your brain fuzzy, the only thing on your mind was the way his thick cock dragged against your walls. A loud moan rips from your throat as you clench around him again, “That’s it my love, cum, cum for me beautiful” Heeseung whispers, moaning lowly. You orgasm rushes over you, and with one last thrust from Heeseung he comes as well, painting your walls white with his seed, dripping and causing a mess.  You trembled coming down from your high, cringing at the feeling of sweat and hair sticking to your body but stayed beneath Heeseung anyway. He gave you a final gentle kiss before pulling out and lying next to you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tightly into his chest allowing you to lay your head down on his chest. “You were absolutely perfect y/n.” You smiled stretching your neck and giving him a short but sweet kiss as a thank you before you finally relaxed in his arms, the both of you falling asleep in a pile of intertwined limbs.

The next morning you woke up alone. You got up from bed feeling slight discomfort as your lady’s maid came in to help you bathe once again and get dressed for the day. As your maid scrubbed you down in the tub, she looked at you with a pained smile. “I was informed to let your majesty know that the Kings mother has arrived and will be staying for the day.” You clinched your teeth together simply nodding and allowing her to finish washing you off. As your maid tightened the corset and placed you in the large, elegant dress you couldn’t help but space out. You wondered by you mother-in-law would choose now of all days to visit you. It was no secret, the things she said of you, but even so you did not imagine that she would go as far as to hound you in your own home. Walking down the large hall you had a wide smile on your face. Looking in each room for your husband your footsteps softened as you heard his booming voice, followed by the screech of his mother.

You were brought back to the day you found out you were to be married, sneaking around and peaking from the corner of the doorframe you listened to them intently. “I have done everything you asked. You asked me to get married. I let you choose, and I got married. You asked me to stay away from her and keep hidden for as long as I could, and so I did. You asked that I bed her and try for an heir and so I did. What more could you want from me?” He yelled sharply, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “I want results, I want the next heir and I want news of her falling pregnant soon. You are to remain here and continue to try until we get the next king to this country.” You could hardly hear her reply as your heartbeat thumped in your ears. Utterly heartbroken and angry you stepped into the door frame, pushing it open wider. Heeseung looked at you, his face falling as he realized you had been standing there for far too long; hearing all the things he had to say about you and his thoughts on your relationship. “Y/n- “Before he continued you cut him off; breathing in deeply, you started to speak, turning towards him and bowing down, “I apologize your majesty, As I must have misunderstood our situation and the way you truly felt about me. Now that I know I will refrain from seeking companionship with you.” Yu looked towards your mother-in-law and bowed again, “I will of course continue to try for an heir, I will not fail. I will perform my duty as it has been laid out for me.” His mother looked satisfied with your answer, nodding her head and looking between the two of the, “Well at least she is not completely useless or incompetent.” Hearing the spiteful comment from your mother-in-law, you turned on your heel and walked out of the room.

By nightfall his mother had left, and you and Heeseung were alone. He had tried to talk to you several times throughout the day, but you had simply ignored him stating that you would see him the next time you were to try for an heir. As the weeks dragged on you had been trying. Eventually the day after next it was time for you to once again try for a heir. You found yourself walking into the bathroom as Heeseung was taking a bath. Stripping yourself of your bed coat you stood in front of him. Quickly he told his footman to get out. “Just get in…” he demanded, and you followed. Dropping down on top of him in the tub you pulled his face to yours, connecting your lips in a hot kiss. His hands found their way to your thighs rubbing up them and lifting your now soaking dress. You felt him harden as you ran your lips down his neck grinding down gently. Heeseung sucked in a breath allowing his head to fall back and for you to continue your ministrations. You had never been this confident before, Heeseung just had to wonder where it came from.  Before long he found himself wanting even more of you. Stopping you from going further down his chest he gripped your chin, bringing your lips back up to meet his as he untired your bed coat. His fingers went back to your thighs, ghosting across them and then into your dress, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the floor. Grabbing at his hard cock in the water you line him up to your entrance, sinking down onto him with a brief pause.

No matter how many times you have done this the slight stretch is always there. A moan rips from Heeseung’s throat as you begin to ride him, bouncing up and down quickly. Your own moans were just as loud, acting as music to Heeseung’s ears. His fingers dig into your hips allowing him to set the pace.  Your thighs started to burn as Heeseung slowed down your bouncing, kissing you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth, “You’re so perfect for me,” he praised moving one hand down in between your legs, fingers pressing harshly against your sensitive clit, rubbing it in small circled. A high-pitched moan left your lips, as your hips jolted slightly from the pleasurable friction, “Heeseung please” you begged quietly already feeling your orgasm impending as your legs had begun to shake. Heeseung didn’t stop, “You do not have to ask my dear go ahead, come for me” he moaned out into your ear, starting to thrust up into you faster. You whined, clenching tightly around him, as you came his fingers still rubbing on your clit. Heeseung followed shortly after you, his warm cum filling you up and leaking down his cock.

Panting heavily, you collapsed on top of him, sighing at the relief of your burning thighs, allowing yourself to relax into the now cold bath. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head, “I’ve missed this you know; I’ve missed the intimacy between the two of us…” he mumbled. You nodded your head, “As have I but it is not my fault that it had disappeared” Heeseung let out a sigh nodding his head as he place it on top of yours, “I am aware and for that I am sorry. I am always so caught up in who I must be as a king I forget that somedays I can just be Heeseung and no one else.” You gave his neck a gentle kiss, “It is okay, let us just move on, what has happened has happened and there is nothing we can do about that. It is what happens from here that matters now.” You spoke softly into his neck. “Oh, how wise you are my dear queen.” He praised you as he pulled away to get out of the tub. ‘As much as I love laying here with you, we must get out, it is rather late, and I fear I do not like the feeling on my fingers and toes wrinkling.” You agreed with his statement allowing him to get out of the tub and dry off, dressing himself in clothes that were already laid out, before he came back to help you. Ever so gently he pulled you out of the tub, wrapping you in a bath towel and drying you off gently. His eyes fell to your soaking dress on the floor, “I fear that you may not be able to wear that one again tonight my queen.” You giggled at his response. “And who shall be at fault if not you my king,” he smiled widely at you, “Nevertheless I do agree, I shall call for a new one.” After a short wait a maid brought you a new dress, helping you change. Heeseung took you into his arms, walking you to his room and laying you down on the bed, joining you shortly after. “Stay with me tonight please?” He asked. You simply nodded, allowing yourself to lay in his arms as you finally dozed off.  

You were awoken by the sound of a crash coming from outside the palace, in the garden. You looked around the room noticing Heeseung was nowhere to be found. Hastily you jumped out of bed, putting on your bed coat and walking out to the palace garden. There you found Heeseung stripped naked in the rose garden, rocking back and forth quietly singing about the planets to himself, hands out in front of him as if playing an imaginary piano. You knew he had been going through something over the past few weeks, but you could have never imagined it to end with him like this. His footman was standing in front of him, trying to get ahold of his attention. As you approached them his footman turned to you, “You should be inside your majesty the king would not like you to see him like this.” You shook your head at him, “Absolutely not. I will not abandon my husband in his time of need.” You made your way closer, pushing the footman out of the way and crouching down in front of Heeseung grabbing his hands. “Venus has gone away, will she come out to play?” You heard his quiet singing. “Heeseung, Heeseung my love, are you okay?” His eyes finally found their way towards you. You smiled at him, moving a hand to caress his face.  He shakes your hand away from his, grabbing your face, “Venus you are not in the sky, have you come to play with me?” You bit your lip at his question shaking your head. “It’s me Heeseung. It’s Y/n. I’m your wife.” He smiles widely, laughing loudly, “Yes of course you’re my y/n. You are way too beautiful to just be Venus. She could never hold a candlelight to you, my dearest.” His ramblings brought you worry but you kept calm for his sake. “Of course, and you are my dear husband, Venus has gone away, so we must go inside now.” Heeseung nodded in agreement. You pulled him up and took off your bed coat, wrapping it around him and leading him to the bathroom. You instructed his footman to bring you water and a cloth. When his footman came back with the warm bucket of water you gently scrubbed the dirt off Heeseung, assisting in getting him dressed and back in bed. You turned to look at Heeseung’s footman once you got him settled, “You must make sure that none of this leaves the palace grounds. Make up what excuse you have too but no one must know.” His footman nodded bowing to you with a quick, “Yes Ma’am.” before he left. Laying down next to Heeseung you gently stroked his hair back, kissing the top of his head, begging whatever deity would listen that he would be okay in the morning.

When morning finally came you once again woke up alone. You got a dreadful feeling as you got flashbacks to the last time you had woken up alone after sleeping with Heeseung. You had hoped that today would be better for the both of you. You also had hoped that Heeseung might finally be open about what he was going through. Making your way to the dining room a shy smile came over your face as you noticed he was sitting down at the table. You sat down as you were served your breakfast. “Are you doing well this morning?” you asked him quietly. His head snapped up from looking down at his tea, “You must already know the answer to that.” He stated. You nodded your head, “I do but it never hurts to ask, you gave me quite a fright last night. I was worried about you.” He looked you up and down, trying to find any sign that you were lying and stayed silent. Finishing up your breakfast you gave him a nod, deciding not to say anything else and allow him to sit in silence. Before getting up to leave you cleared your throat, “I have an appointment with the doctor today, so we shall see if anything comes of it.” Heeseung remained silent as you left. In that moment he knew that if you were to have finally fallen pregnant, he would have to make himself start to visit his doctor again. He would have to get himself under control, no more episodes and no more mod swings. Shortly after your doctor’s appointment word reached Heeseung that you were indeed pregnant. When he read the letter, he felt his heart stop. His heart hurt for you and for your future child. However, it also swelled with joy, as hard as adapting to this marriage has been he was so proud to finally have something to share with just you. As for you, you were elated with the news. You had finally achieved what was thought to be your only role in life and you could not wait for your baby to come.

It has been several weeks since you got news back from the doctor regarding your pregnancy. You knew he hadn’t been back to his observatory, but he had seldom been seen in the halls of the palace. Now several months pregnant you couldn’t stand not knowing where he was. You had tried sending him letters and even getting Joong to harass Heeseung’s footman to try and find out where he could be hiding. Even through all of that you still had no idea. Though as time went on and a few months passed you began to grow suspicion about the chatter from the servants. You had heard some of them talking about hearing screams being concealed deeply in the underground chambers beneath the main palace for several days and nights. Others talked about how it must have been someone who betrayed the crown, and though you wouldn’t have doubted it, with your husband missing you just had to think otherwise. The rumor mill led you to none other than your mother-in-law. Walking into her large drawing room you ignored the woman that was sitting with her. “Where is he?” you demanded, slapping a hand down on the gold marble table. Your mother-in-law jumped as the sound, giving you a glare before turning to look at the woman sitting with her, “I suppose we will have to catch up some other time, I fear the queen’s pregnancy has gotten to her.” The other woman let out a giggle, muttering something about having been there before as she curtsied and walked out of the room, allowing the servants to close the heavy wooden door behind her. “You must’ve lost your manners, girl” she hissed at you, “You have no right to demand to see the king, let alone know where he is. It is none of your concern.” You clenched your jaw, teeth grinding down against each other as you huffed out, “No right? No right, you say. I have every right, even more so than you. I have every right to demand to know where my husband is and what he is doing. I have every right to see him!” Your mother-in-law simply shook her head, “He would not want you to know where he is.” She sucked in another breath but before she could begin to talk again you cut her off. “I know. I know that the king is mad, I know that he is sick.” Anger flared in your mothers-in-law eyes as he looked at you, “The king is not, and I repeat, is not mad. He is simply burdened.” You shook your head. Voice breaking as you spoke, “You do not understand, I know that he is, I have seen it firsthand. Yet I choose to love him anyway, I choose to stay by his side.” As much as this woman had hurt you, made you feel inferior and alone you couldn’t bear to see her do the same to your husband, her own son. “So please, I will do what I must but please let me see him.” However, it seemed as though your pleads had fallen on deaf ears as your mother-in-law walked away. You only had one other option, to go to Heeseung’s footman and convince him yourself.

Following a short ride to the main palace you met Heeseung’s footman. You glared at him as Joong helped you out of the carriage you had arrived in, being extra careful of your pregnant belly. “I am demanding to see the king.” You spoke out calmly. Heeseung’s foot man looked at you. Before he could begin speaking back you shook your head, “I am demanding to see the king. As your queen you are required to allow me to see him. As his right hand and aide, you are sworn to protect him. With that being said, you must take me to the king.” Heeseung’s footman sighed, not saying a word but casting a long glance to a lone cellar door on the side of the building. Without saying another word, you took off, Heeseung’s footman and Joong following closely behind you. “Your majesty you mustn’t enter there, he does not wish for you to see him in this state.” The footman pleaded with you. “He is my husband; I shall see him in whatever state I wish.” You responded as you threw open the cellar door. Immediately after its opening you heard terrifying screams, one that could only be riveled by women in labor. Quickly making your way down the three small steps and into the leaky dark cellar you followed the sounds of the screams. They become louder and more deafening as you near a door at the end of the long tunnel, light being cast through the cracks. The guards outside of the door moved to stop you, nearly grabbing you up before Joong or Heeseung’s footman came to stop them. Silently the guards turned to Heeseung’s footman with questioning glances. The footman sighed, “Let the queen in, she wishes to speak with the king.”  Without any further instructions the doors were pushed open by the two guards. The sight of the room made you sick. It was dirty and there were rats and roaches everywhere. Just barely standing in front of a throne-like chair in the middle was Heeseung, head down and nodding out. His feet were plunged into a vat of steaming water. He was clothed in simple white sleeping bottoms, a thick sheen of sweat covering him as his hair stuck down to his forehead. The palace doctor stood over him, two electrodes in hand and a sick smirk on his face, while two more guards held him up by his arms. The doctor pushed the electrodes into Heeseung’s skin, causing him to scream out in agony. You let out a curdled scream, causing all the men, apart from Heeseung to look over at you. “Release the king this instant!” You demanded, edging closer to the men. The doctor let out a hiss, demanding you to be removed. “No, I demand that you release the king. I am your Queen, and as such you will do as I say or face the consequences.” The guards holding Heeseung up let him go, allowing him to stumble out of the vat of water. You moved quickly, allowing him to fall into you. He looked up, eyes hazy, “y/n my love is that you” His voice was hours no doubt due to the torture he had endured. You nodded, whispering out a small yes as you stroked his head, “Just rest, it’s okay, you’re okay now” You spoke softly to him. Heeseung’s eyes closed as he finally allowed himself to completely nod out. You looked towards Joong and Heeseung’s footman signaling for them to take him. They did so quickly, carrying him out to the carriage with you not far behind. The doctor ran out following behind you, “Your majesty you must understand. All I was doing was trying to cure him.” You whipped around at the careless doctor’s comment, “Cure him? What exactly were you trying to cure? He is just fine as he is. He is a great king and husband. You should be lucky if you are allowed to practice medicine in this country ever again. I’ll have you tried for your crimes against the crown, and it will only be by the king’s hand whether you make it out alive. So, whatever it is you supposably tried to cure him of you best hope he is grateful for it.” You threatened him, before returning to the carriage and being taken home with Heeseung at your side.

 It had been several days since you had dragged Heeseung out of the dungeon that the deranged doctor kept him locked in. Your due date was coming up soon and you were stressed and worried about him. You knew that he blamed himself for the way you found him, no doubt from the manipulation of the doctor. Your mother-in-law had continued to tell you to leave him be and allow  him to stay by himself, but you simply could not bear the thought that he was alone and hurting. So, when night fell, and your mother-in-law retired for bed you and Joong set out for the observatory. The giant doors scratched the marble floor as they opened. Walking in you spotted Heeseung, much like he was the first time you found him here, shirtless with things scattered all around him, newly minted scars forming on his upper body. “Is there a reason you have yet to return home?” you questioned hands coming up around your obviously showing bump. Heeseung looked at you, eyes wide. He stayed silent for a moment and shook his head, “Nothing that is a concern of yours. You need to leave Y/n” he spoke coldly. You mimicked him shaking your head “No. Not until you tell me you do not love me” Heeseung opened his mouth, ‘What does that have to do with anything?” You stared at him incredulously, “It has everything to do with it. I have heard you say that you wish for me to go, that you wish for me to leave, even going as far to say that you wish we had never married. But you have never said that you do not love me. If you truly do not, then tell me. Because if you do love me then I will continue to come here, every day to bring you home.” Heeseung’s face fell, frown becoming deeper. Instead of letting him speak you continued, “Well what do you have to say? Tell me? Tell me you do not love me, and I will go. I will never return; I will have our baby on my own and only come around when my position calls for another one. We can spend the rest of our lives apart.” Heeseung’s eyes clouded, and he stood from his position, drawing closer to you. “My heart is only for you; it calls your name day and night. It yearns for you whenever you are away. I cannot breathe without you here. I have loved you, desperately, so from the moment I first seen you in the garden. You are the only one for me, but you don’t need my broken parts. You don’t need the me that cannot give you a perfect man to love.”  Your head snapped up as you responded “And do you believe that mine does not? Do you truly believe that I would not love every single part of you? Do you think so lowly of me?” Heeseung cuts you off, “Of course I do not think lowly of you, you are the most magnificent person I have ever had the pleasure to known. But- “you shook your head, grabbing him and pulling him to you, being careful of you protruding belly, “Then that is all we need to know, I love you and you love me.” Kissing him deeply you speak again, “I will forever be by your side, I will love you through your good days; and I will love you through your bad ones too. I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I love you, all of you, if you let me.” Tears cloud your eyes as you stare up at him, blinking them away they trail down your face. Heeseung looks at you, face fallen and eyes sad. He snakes his hands up to your face, wiping your tears away, “Only if you let me do the same.” With a nod you kiss him deeply again, hugging him tightly to you as his arms wrap around you. Finally, you feel at ease with being in his arms.

The day had finally came. Sharp pains shot through you as you laid down in bed, your lady’s maid beside you gripping onto your hand tightly. Another lady’s maid sat at the end of the bed, instructing you to keep your legs up and opened as she carefully checked on the baby. You heard your husband screaming at someone for a doctor, telling them that is what you needed. With each second the searing pain became worse, crying, you called out to your husband. In a matter of seconds, he came barreling through the door a doctor in tow. The doctor took over for the lady’s maid down at the foot of your bed, proving his own check and giving your husband a nod. Heeseung kneeled at your side, allowing you to grip his hand as hard as you needed. Effectively taking place of the First Ladies maid. “You are doing splendid my darling, there is no need to be panicked. Just relax my dear girl, relax.” Heeseung hummed into your sweat drenched hairline, placing a gentle kiss when he finished, “Just give it time, our child will soon see the world all thanks to you.” You gave him a halfhearted smile before another scream of pain left you. The doctor took a deep breath, “your majesties, it is time. You need to start pushing. The baby is ready.” With a nod you started, the pain becoming worse than before. Heeseung sat by you the entire time and made sure you were taken care of after the birth. When you were finally done the doctors and ladies maids took the baby and cleaned him up. Several minutes later you were met with your newborn being laid out in your chest. You smiled at Heeseung, looking over and seeing his eyes filled with so much love and joy. It was at that moment you knew that you would do anything for the two of them. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

Only seven months after your first baby had you gotten pregnant with another one. You and Heeseung were very excited. You were happy to say the least that your little family kept growing with nothing but love and support. One day you were in the garden, watching as Heeseung threw around weeds and dead flowers, helping with the landscaping. Your now five children had sat below you at your feet begging for a story. You giggled and picked up your oldest, nuzzling into him causing him to giggle back. “Now have I ever told you about the princess and the king?” You asked knowing what the several children’s answers would be. Little hands raised up as they all nodded, “yes yes but we want to hear it again!” Their little voices boomed across the garden. Heeseung head peaks up, nodding to you as he came and took a seat down next you. “Well, you see there was this beautiful princess who was set to get married. She was deathly afraid that her new husband was going to be a troll or a beast,” you started, sniffing your laughter. Heeseung rolled his eyes gently before continuing with your story, “but before she could escape, the king had found her trying to go over the garden wall.” “Of course, the princess didn’t know it was him at first and even tried to get him to help her escape” you interrupted him.  The children nodded along with the story, their smiles becoming wider as they watched you and Heeseung stare at each other. Heeseung took ahold of your hand as he continued the story, “but it was too late, as it was from that moment that the king knew she would be very special to him and he to her. He knew that she would be the one thing to save him from all else” Heeseung eyes glanced around the children taking in their wide and beautiful smile as he kissed the back of your hand.

Sure, your story was not perfect. It was filled with ups and downs, tragedy and pain. But over everything else it was true and the love you held for one another would never die. It was an eternal flame flickering even in the strongest of winds. It was the light that peaked out of the door at the end of a dark and damp corridor. It was hiding together and living together. It was understanding and compassionate. But most importantly it was yours and that’s all that truly mattered.

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

❀❀❀ taglist (for enha as a bridgerton story) - @lol6sposts @signed-manny @peonywon @rayofsunshineeee @renchai @lwavander @jaeyunzlovr @eneiyri @moonchild-moonfairy @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @strxwbloody @yeonjinnie @firstclassjaylee @laurradoesloveu @smouches @baekxo07 @channiesdarling @microwavedstrawberr1es @jjaeyuns @penny44224 @sseishiross @heesitation @jakedoxxenvasion @jaklvbub @sunus-sun @sunwoniie @hybeboyenthusisast @dollschan @randomanothercreature @nctislifue @nanaheex @addictedtohobi @wolfhardbby @papichulomacy @monstaxdirtywonk @koizekomi @august25 @yaksokhaley @sofesyoongi @pinkkami @peytonthedino @onlyseungkwans @hotchwheels @icedtealeaf (i think i got everyone lmk if i missed you!!)

‼️‼️ ©️ @candysunoo 2024 DO NOT copy, repost or translate without permission ‼️‼️

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[theactualsunshinechild]

If Castorice is cursed to kill whoever she touches and Mydei is cursed to be immortal, do you think Mydei ever goes to Castorice on a really bad day and is like, hey can you put me down for a bit please? I'm having these phantom pains from fatal wounds and injuries that don't exist anymore and they're keeping me up, I want a nap.

And obviously at first Castorice is like "L-lord Mydei, please rethink this, death is not something to be trifled with! Even with your condition, I cannot guarantee your safe return..." and Mydei takes the time to reassure her that, no, he's sure about this, and yes he is willing to bear the risks, no he doesn't care if it will hurt, please euthanize him. It takes a bit of convincing but eventually she agrees to risk it, and, fear in her heart, gently places a hand on his shoulder.

Mydei wobbles and collapses dead on the spot. Castorice lets go and starts fretting internally, stepping back and circling around, frantically searching for any sign of life. How long does it usually take for Mydei to come back? Will he come back at all? Her own curse is clearly effective on him after all... To her relief, it only takes a few seconds for Mydei's eyes to flutter open again to find himself supine, with limbs bent at various awkward angles from the way he ragdolled.

It was a very peaceful few seconds, no pain, no blood, just an pleasant floating sensation as the familiar dark waves of the Styx rocked him side to side gently, before a bright guiding light forcibly pulled him right back. If not for the uncomfortable position he came to in, he'd even say the experience did some old aches a lot of good. The slight relieved smile that comes across her face as he explains this belies how many years of uncertainty and grief she's experienced over the many deaths she had enacted prior. She must have had no way of knowing for sure, until now, whether or not the deaths she delivered were as gentle as she hoped, Mydei realized.

It takes slightly less convincing to have Castorice try again. This time, they arrange more comfortably, Mydei sitting down against a wall, Castorice taking his offered hand in hers. As his hand goes limp in hers, his skin slowly cooling, she draws comforting circles on it with her thumb, more for herself than for his unfeeling body. After several minutes this time, each feeling longer than the last, she lets go and backs away once more, waiting with bated breath for the moment he shudders back to life, taking air back into empty lungs, eyes bright again, fierce, lively and visibly well-rested.

They agree to never exceed 15 minutes, Castorice explaining he would likely not enjoy coming back to the discomfort of gravity having caused all of his stilled blood to pool and settle inside of his body, let alone his body having cooled. Mydei agrees easily and assures her that he will keep his requests for deathly repose infrequent.

Castorice often passes the time Mydei spends dead trying to occupy her hands, the nerves never quite leaving her alone. Knowing logically that Mydei will come back and fearing that maybe he won't come back this time are two separate things after all. She tries many things, from bringing a scroll to read, to embroidery, shoulder pressed to his, trying to ignore how much bolder the red tattoos look against the pallor of a dead man. When Mydei wakes to Castorice's fingers pricked and bleeding for the third time, he frowns and offers for her to braid his hair next time if she wishes.

The next time, a month later, they arrange slightly differently, Castorice sitting on a bench, Mydei lowering his head into her lap, his hair an offering she wills herself to accept. Having assisted with many a funeral rite, Castorice is able to lose herself in the process of carefully weaving the messy soft locks into shape. The texture is strangely soothing, despite how unnaturally still Mydei remains, and Castorice imagines that this must be similar to what it feels like to pet a lion's fluffy mane. When the sand stops flowing, Castorice moves Mydei's head out of her lap to walk five places away once more. He comes to, gasping for breath as usual, and reaches up to feel at the new braids he sensed in his hair. A ghost of a smile graces his face when he finds them to be satisfactory, and he wears them for the rest of the day as a sign of appreciation. Castorice fiddling with his hair while he is dead quickly becomes the standard for their little meetings. Sometimes he wakes up with no new braids, but he doesn't question it so long as Castorice doesn't appear to be in any distress.

The first time Phainon spotted Mydei with his head in Castorice's lap, Castorice gently running her fingers through his hair as if he were a very large cat, Phainon almost passed them by with how peaceful they looked...

Then did a double take and panicked.

Anyway, that's my headcanon at least for how Castorice can say that the death she brings with her touch is peaceful. I think discovering that killing Mydei with her touch grants him what is essentially a banger nap from his perspective, probably helped her find an amount of peace in those early years. Truly putting the rest in "putting to rest"with this one.

Obviously she'd still prefer to be able to touch people and creatures without having them die, but at least she has learned that it isn't painful when she kills this way.

Additionally I like to imagine that while being killed by Castorice feels soothing, getting killed normal ways feels like shit, painful the whole way through, and then you get dunked violently into the Styx. And for Mydei specifically, it's more like he gets dunked into the Styx only to get yoinked right out, soul still sopping wet and cold, and forced back into a body that is fully repaired but it's happened so fast to him that his nerves have him feeling the aftershocks of the injuries that are already gone.

[sulkenswan]

SUCKER — CHAPTER ONE, so close to what

fanart by nrmav , edited by me

vampire!dealer!ellie williams x fem!reader

↫ prologue masterlist next ↬

info: your first day goes surprisingly well, despite the unwanted attention, your mind is mostly bothered by the auburn haired girl who cant seem to stand you, despite you doing nothing. you find peace in being alone and decorating, waiting until the day you see her pale face once more, and when you do, she seems to have much more interest in you than before. MOODBOARD + PLAYLIST

cw: mention of eating disorders, underage smoking (r & e are 17, r soon to be 18), men, stalking (e), readers pretty down and empty, trying to fulfill it, shes clumsy, she wears a skirt, bella swan coded but not really, follows the plot of twilight, near death experience, ellie's a dick, still just mainly fleshing out the story, barely edited, Imk if smths missing. men and minors dni.

wc: 8.5k

note: thank you for reading & for your patience i apologise for the rush in advance x

maybe cat’s confidence isn't as comforting as you thought it would be. it seems as if all of her friends have picked up the same, fairly loud habits as her. but she was helpful, guiding you to the office and ensuring you had all the right forms and slips, including a pass you had to get signed at every class.

your first two classes went fine, thankfully. you shared both with cat, and as soon as maths finished and the lunch bell rang, her first move was to invite you to sit with her - an offer you very happily accepted, and an offer that she seemed even more thrilled that you had accepted. not like you were going to complain, surrounding yourself with people meant you didn’t look lonely, and not looking lonely meant you were not going to become a social piranha.

“hey guys! here she is, your shiny new toy,” cat jokes, introducing you to her group while she pulls you out a chair and then herself, placing her tray of cafeteria food in front of her.

you shyly wave a hand and sit down besides cat, your chair making a terrible scratching noise as you pull it back in, wincing at the sound.

everyone's heads are on you. there's four people whom you don't recognise, cat being the only familiar person at the table. thankfully, the one sitting directly in front of you takes the chance to introduce everyone.

“i’m thomas, this is jackson.”

he takes a minute to jab jackson's arm jokingly, who hits him right back smiling, thomas feigning hurt and rubbing his arm, pouting snobbily, trying (and failing) to hold back a smile. jackson has bright blonde hair and some kind of surfer vibe going for him, meanwhile jackson has dark brown hair, wearing a red flannel and skinny jeans.

“ignore them. i’m crystal,” the girl sitting diagonal to you continues.

she looks kind, soft. her blonde hair cascades down her shoulders, fresh blowout styling it perfectly. she has light shimmer on her eyelids, and you want to ask her where she managed to get such pretty pigment from, as well as where you can find a cute dress like that in a place like this.

“and that’s stevie.”

she nods her head beside her towards the final unnamed person. she smiles at you, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. she has dyed red hair that's pin straight, dark lipstick and eyeliner suiting her perfectly, her outfit far more stylish than the others, a dark red shirt with a lace layer overtop paired with a mid length skirt and boots.

“hey, guys. thank you for letting me sit with you,” you kindly express your gratitude, smiling at them, “it's nice to meet you.”

thomas laughs at your formality, leaning forward in his seat to show you have his full attention. “don't be silly. where’d you move from?”

stevie continues looking down at her food, seemingly uninterested in welcoming a new person and it makes you feel bad - you don’t want to mess with their group dynamic. everyone else is paying attention, even if they're eating, eyes wide, looking at you expectantly.

“uh, i just moved here from seattle.”

you can tell you're self-conscious by the way you keep tugging your sleeves over your hands, trying to shield yourself from the attention. it's not only your newfound friends that are looking at you, as people keep turning towards you then murmuring to their friends. you feel like you’re going crazy.

stevie laughs sarcastically, eyes on her food. “why are you so pale then?”

your face falters, “oh, i-”

“stevie,” crystal warns, her tone stern but still somehow friendly. gentle parenting at its finest.

“sorry,” she mumbles, but it doesn't help from your face flushing with embarrassment.

she seemed cool, you wanted to get to know her better but it seemed like she would rather do anything but sit here at a table with you.

crystal sighs, but her attitude switches up quickly to try and welcome you more as best she can, hoping you don’t let the red haired girl make you feel too much like an outsider.

“so, how was seattle? i bet you’re missing the sun, huh.”

the group continues to pile on top of crystal's initial question, “why did you move here? where do you live around? is that your chevy truck out the front? who have you met so far?”

it felt like it went on and on, but thankfully they eventually let up, turning to conversation amongst each other, tom and jack going off to talk to people they hadn’t seen since the holidays started, leaving with a promise of ‘returning home to you’.

her friend group being loud in nature proved to work in your favour pretty well. you didn't have to talk too much, but you still enjoyed their presence and jokes. it gave a good balance to your life and didn't exhaust you, treating you like you had all been friends for years. stevie’s dislike bothered you, but you were sure it was only due to the attention you were being given. you were determined to get rid of it and discover a way to help flip it on her instead. she seemed like she thrived off of attention, you did not.

“there’s nothing new about the newspaper here, just another one about eating disorders,” crystal complains from beside you. her whines about the poorly written newspaper she was reading from over your shoulder that she had just given you making you laugh.

“sup chief heiress!” jackson teases, coming back towards the group and yanking the newspaper from your hands, dragging an empty chair beside yours, stealing cat’s spot.

“chief heiress?” cat blandly says.

“very new perspective, jackson. thank you.” stevie’s sarcasm slices through you, she does not seem to enjoy the attention jackson is giving you, and neither do you. mentally, you put together the pieces. you planned on staying as invisible as possible, but everybody here seems to have made it their personal mission to draw as much attention to you as possible.

“i think it suits her,” thomas runs up, “don't you think?”

he asks you before kissing you on the cheek and yanking jackson’s chair from underneath him, causing the boy to fall and drop as well as the paper as the perpetrator runs away, jack chasing after him while yelling profanities. you shake your head, eyes falling back onto the discoloured table.

“wow. they are all over you, aren't they?” stevie kids, but its clear there’s bitterness lingering behind in her voice, malice. you can tell she’s trying to sus out your non-existent intentions. both crystal and cat eye her.

you sigh, picking the newspaper from the ground, putting it back on the table and standing up from your seat.

“not my type,” you disentangle, hoping it gives some clarity to the girl, and that she’ll pass the message on to the boys. it’ll do for now, but you’ll be sure to clear up the confusion later, having no energy for enemies, especially on your first day. your plan was to breeze through school, but you were really liking your friends, and you hoped it would stay a more permanent thing. only being able to hope that stevie’s resentment would die down as well as the attention, anticipating it already.

you forgot to bring your own lunch, thanks to your haste, so you’re forced to grab a piece of fruit from the cafeteria. it looked like a safe bet as seemingly being the only edible option they provided, especially after taking a quick glance at cat and stevie’s tray. you decide on an apple that looked surprisingly juicy, a deep shade of red making it seem extra appealing to you. you rejoin your friends and slide back into silent conversation with them, taking small chunks out of your apple while you pay attention to their intense talking, chiming in every now and again but not overstepping. thomas and jackson are still nowhere to be seen, but you’re not fussed about it. you hear the cafeteria doors open, automatically turning your head to see who walked in wondering if it could be tom or jack, but you forget all about them and your heart stops once you lay your eyes on three of the most stunning people you’ve ever seen.

the couple catches your attention first, someone lingering behind them. all are unfamiliar to you, and all are fairly pale, almost sickly. they walked as if they owned the place, and it frightened you a little, their confidence sending chills up your body. within the couple, the girl had dark, thick hair pulled up into a bun that framed her face perfectly, a brown jacket, maroon v neck cut t shirt and skinny jeans causing her to look as flattering as possible, her tan like skin adorning freckles wherever you could see them. she looked impossibly kind. meanwhile the guy she was holding hands with had some kind of mullet haircut going for him, an outfit similar to hers thrown on, boots squeaking ever so slightly against the cafeteria floors. they looked incredible together. striking. nonchalant attitude plastered on. the girl behind them, however, had caught your attention too. she had dark skin, amber eyes, and hair pulled back into a ponytail, long braids running down her back with a headband at the forefront. she and the freckled girl appeared to be matching outfits. before you can even process it, you realise they aren’t immune from resisting to look at you either, or maybe they could just feel your eyes, one by one catching your stare. you have to turn your head all the way around to see them properly, yet you don't look away, don't cower in fear, too entranced by the trios magnetic energy they hold even while simply walking and sitting down. but eventually, you lose eye-contact with them as they become engrossed in their own conversation, forgetting about you immediately and unbothered by your presence. it is unbelievably refreshing.

“who are they?” you ask your new friends, cat pausing her eating and following your eyes behind her towards their table on the far side of the cafeteria.

she doesn't pay any mind to your question, going back to her food, you face her, back turned to the trio.

“the millers. the dark haired girl with the boy? that’s dina, and jesse. both really weird, both dating. the other one is riley. they mainly keep to themselves. they moved down here a couple years back, their dad is some sort of doctor slash matchmaker. i’m surprised the other one isn't with them.”

your face contorts into confusion.

“how can they be dating if they’re part of the same family? and the other one?” you question, and just like clockwork, you hear the doors behind you open once again, turning to face it, you see her walking through them.

time seems slow as you watch her walk towards her table. she’s tall, fairly lean, far more pale than the rest. auburn hair cut just above her collarbone, tied into a half up half down. some wispy bits fall from her oddly flattering side part, a silver lip ring and eyebrow piercing taking place on her also freckled face. she was dressed in converse, like you, baggy jeans, a jacket and a deep green shirt.

she seems to be the edgier of the trio, smirking to herself for no reason when passing your table, making her way to join the rest of her family. you can't take your eyes off of her.

“that's ellie miller. total heartthrob. apparently nobody here’s good enough for her. not like i care, you know…” you silently nod your head, indicating you were still following along

stevie clears her throat then continues, “dina and jesse can date since they aren’t technically related, although it's still weird. joel miller adopted the four of them ages ago, apparently after he lost his own daughter.” she continues cats logic, whispering the last part. your simple sentence from before denying attraction for the boys evidently lightening up her perspective on you, thank god.

“huh.” you mumble, taking the final bite of your apple, still turning your head just to stare at the pale girl sitting at the table far across from you, you can really see the appeal for it now. she's busy in conversation with dina, manspreading and leaning back into her seat comfortably, hands tucked into her jacket pockets as if she owns the place, she looks extremely relaxed, and good doing it.

you get lost in thought, blanking out while you stare, the last thing you expected her to do, however, was to suddenly look up and lock eyes with you. panic coursing through you as you look away from her, praying she didn't catch you. only for a moment though, your body instinctively looking back up to see if she’s still staring.

and she is.

a confused, almost lost look having replaced her previously cocky features, leaning upright in her seat ever so slightly, analysing you. but not for long, she pauses for a moment before peeling her eyes away from you, resuming her previous position. warmth floods to your cheeks and you look around and down at your finished apple in shame.

cat, apparently having previously caught your stare, sighs. “seriously, don’t waste your time. i mean it,” disappointment held in her voice.

you shake your head gently, turning around and looking up to face the pale girl once more, hoping to see her facing you once more. she’s not. “wasn't planning on it.”

the bell rings and all of your friends go their separate ways. you shared biology with thomas, who decided to rejoin your table just as the three of you were grabbing your stuff to get to class.

your feet drag as you make your way to the labs, thomas talking to you about his extravagant lunch adventures, but you weren't fully paying attention. when you arrive, he apologized profusely to go sit with another friend of his, saying he wishes it was you but that he had made the mistake of promising them. you don't mind, waving him off with a polite smile and soft eyes to indicate it was alright. everybody else had already taken their place as you enter the class, in their own duos, leaving you little choice. you analyse the room, a fan blowing directly behind you and you can feel your hair move from it. that's when you see her, again, her eyes already on you. you hadn't even noticed her leave the cafeteria before.

but this time, when the papers fly up nearby her thanks to the fan behind you, her hand flies up to her nose while she inhales deeply, shutting her eyelids as if she’s trying to regulate herself. your face twists into confusion, instantaneously feeling self consciousness as you shyly grab your hair to smell. vanilla. nothing new. nothing disgusting to inhale, unless maybe she just really, really hated vanilla. but from the difficulty she’s finding to even breathe, you highly doubt that. she’s staring directly at you now in sheer disgust, breathing in heavily, tense as she could be as if she’s smelt something absolutely rancid ‘cause of you.

lost in thought, you don't notice your teacher talking to you, until you lose eye contact with her and he takes your slip away, signing it then handing it back with a textbook. then, he points straight to her, and that's when you realise she’s the only one without a lab partner.

regardless, you still try to make light of the situation. flashing a faint smile and taking your seat beside her, the stool out to get you as you almost fall backwards the second you try to sit, hurriedly regaining your balance and trying to play it off, dropping your book bag beside you.

she doesn't speak to you, hell she doesn't even look at you directly. her eyes wide as she keeps her head down, eyeing you from the side, hand still covering her nose and mouth.

it only worsens your paranoia, skeptically raising your sleeve to your nose to see if she's being dramatic or not, and again, you only smell like vanilla. you didn't walk through shit on your way to bio, thank god. how come ellie looked at you as if you were dead was unknown, but you still wanted to give her a chance.

you just couldn’t find it in yourself to talk to her. she's made it very clear with her piercing gaze and inability to say hi that she has zero intentions of talking to you, so there was no point to it anyways, and you didn't want to cross a line, especially with her strange gaze at lunch. you opt to pay attention for once. but it's proving to be a challenge when the stools are so uncomfortable, when ellie’s intensely staring at you, hand no longer near her mouth, inhaling deeply, like she wants more. looking at you like she wants more, not paying attention to the teacher. just you.

mr. brown’s mouth is moving, but you’ve blocked him out. ellie seems to be trying her best to make you notice her, to look at her. and its working, proving to be incredibly difficult to not give into temptation and look at the pale girl beside you, and you just about do every second you’re stuck in that classroom.

you distract yourself by counting down the seconds, imagining ellies life outside of school, how you can adjust your routine in the morning to no avail. your mind wandering back to the girl beside you each time.

the clock is ticking but nothing is changing, you think you’ll be stuck in this classroom forever.

somehow, eventually, the bell rings for everybody to go to their next class, but part of you is disappointed. you were enjoying the attention ellie was giving you, even if it set off warning bells in your head. i mean, your friends had even explicitly told you she didn't have eyes for anybody, even stevie. and you certainly are not better than stevie.

you blink and ellie's gone, dashing out of the classroom, old backpack clutched tightly in her right hand, running away from you as if her life depended on it.

you hate it, but deep down you're offended, and a little sad. someone else's opinion has never bothered you this much until now, and you have no idea even why. you convince yourself your friends got into your head about the mysterious girl. you haven't even spoken to her, yet the effect she has on you seems to be an issue, one that you hope doesn’t last.

you don't see ellie for the rest of the day and it disappoints you, that meant you only had biology with her. after a gym class that you surprisingly don't do terribly in, and another lunch break where you once again gained unwanted attention (thankfully, limited from jackson as you started a conversation between him and stevie), you make your way back to the office, marking the end of your first day.

opening one of the double doors, you’re surprised to see her right in front of you, but she does not look happy. posture tight, back straight as she leans over the counter, just like she had in biology.

“there has to be something, anything at the same time as bio that i can switch to, lady. literally, anything.”

“i’m sorry dear, but all of the classes have been filled,” she responds apologetically, holding a hand up to you to signal she’ll be with you in a moment, and you weren’t even sure if ellie could get any more rigid than she could, but her body language surely signals it, proving you wrong. turning around slowly to face you, face angry. it shocks you, but doesn’t scare you, looking directly into her dark eyes.

“i’ll just deal with it then. thank you,” she grunts, taking her backpack off of the floor and storming away from the office, less than an inch away from bumping into you, barely avoiding your touch.

bothered, but honestly more annoyed, you go through a series of emotions in a matter of seconds, trying to make excuses to how she could be so mean to you when she didn't even know you. sadness slowly turning into anger, you wanted to know what made her hate you. not even bothering to go return your slip, a flurry of emotions overtaking your being, leading you too to storm out. telling yourself you’ll confront the tall-girl tomorrow, challenge her even. if she wanted to bite you, you would bite back.

but she didn’t show.

not the next day either, or the day after that. all hope you had of confronting her slowly fading away, as well as your anger by the time the week finished, and you were left to your own devices. you would be lying if you said dismay didn’t consume your being everytime you walked into biology only to find the seat next to yours empty, often finding yourself looking at her siblings during break, you hated it, but she had made an impression on you.

you tried your best not to let it bother you. turning your focus to school and friends, but not much had changed, and you knew it was only a temporary feeling of fulfillment. half the school seemed to have taken an interest in you, asking discreet questions to see who you might have eyes on, telling them the same thing.

“nobody. i'm good on my own.”

and you really weren’t lying when you said that. sure, ellie drew you in and magnified your curiosity by far more than anybody else, but she had issues with you for some unknown reason, and you had no plans of chasing after someone, no matter how badly you wanted to. anybody who had asked you out romantically you were sure to turn down as politely as possible, because they didn't know you.

there was no difference between them and you when it came to ellie. you really didn't understand the appeal when it was about you, and you were certain it was only because you were the first new person in months.

the week finished far slower than you thought it would, each passing day adding more and more weight to your shoulders, the feeling of fulfillment fading away faster until you were alone, and it vanished completely.

weekends gave you freedom, but they also left you with too much time on your hands. you found yourself doing something, anything that would distract you and keep your mind off of the pit that had formed in your stomach.

first, saturday. you had blocked off half the day to complete schoolwork, and the other half to unpack and hang out with your dad. he didn't have the day off, but you made sure to go to the station and hang out at the diner for lunch after you had managed to complete your work in a matter of hours.

he did a good job at keeping your mind occupied, telling you all about what his duties had been involving recently. strange animal attacks being the centre of his occupation currently. all it proved to you was that jackson was boring, but at least your food was delicious, and you did meet some more familiar faces who claimed they last saw you when you couldn’t even form a conscious thought.

when you drove home, saying goodbye to your dad, the first thing you spotted were four brown moving boxes sitting on your porch waiting for you, and you knew what two of them contained. your music. something you felt like you had been missing for years.

you hurriedly moved all the boxes inside, albeit struggling while doing so, especially when trying to get everything up the stairs. but you managed, and you wasted no time, ignoring your panting breath as you ripped open all the boxes, visualising how you wanted this to go.

deciding you would go out to town and buy some new shelves and a stand to hold your record player and vinyls, you call your dad quickly to check what the best place would be, to which he recommended some vintage thrift stores around that were bound to have something similar to what you were looking for. jumping in your truck and peeling out of the driveway, deciding you would get all your furniture first before unpacking further so you didn't have any unnecessary clutter. you had gotten a pretty good feel for the town and had a general idea on where you were going, eventually finding a good spot right in the middle where you could shop, making a stop at the library to print out your resume first, a process that had been tedious, to say the least.

every store you went to, you handed out the piece of paper that had your name in bold letters at the top. you figured it would be a good idea, useful. having something to take up your days while simultaneously getting paid for it, applying mainly in the hopes of getting hired at the record store that very conveniently had a sign in bright bold letters practically screaming at you that they were hiring, and the person whom you handed your resume to had taken a liking in you, especially after seeing that you were the chiefs daughter.

it didn't stop you from having a look at their options, they had much to choose from. paramore, bon iver, and you couldn’t leave without at least one thing from there, you had been saving up and declared it a present for yourself. hoping it would decrease the emptiness within you somehow. deciding on among my swan by mazzy star, it felt only fitting, and you planned on showing your dad the correlation between the pillow and the record. it would kill two birds with one stone. he would think you felt perfectly fine, and you had something new to listen to.

you visited a couple more shops, handing in your resume at every single one, always ensuring to have a wander around, too. you were sure to not overspend tho, buying two new shirts and a skirt with some tights, some more long sleeved stuff as you were running out of outfits, small trinkets from local antique stores that you wanted to support, checking their furniture options each time. each store didn't have quite what you needed, that was until the second to last. a dark wooden shelf catching your eye instantly, it was perfect. the same type of wood as your other furniture, four squares beneath to hold the vinyls flawlessly and the perfect width on top to hold your turntable and speakers.

you bought it without a second thought, the shop attendant helping you load it out into your truck after you drove it up out front their store, them doing most of the work due to you almost dropping it from your inability to see two feet ahead of you. you decided to end your day there, satisfied with the purchases you had made, feeling a little better, you had been productive at the least and that brought some comfort to your overcrowded mind.

it was sunset by the time you arrived back home, your dad already relaxing on the couch before you interrupted his silence and begged if he could help you unload the new, heavy piece of furniture. he accepted without a second thought, bringing it up to your room effortlessly, almost tripping over the mess you had made on your floor of suitcases and boxes.

by the time you had rearranged your furniture, fatigue had overtaken your being. a lack of motivation to continue your newfound career in interior design made you instead decide to call it a night. rushing down the stairs to reheat your leftovers from the diner, eating at the kitchen bar with your father standing in front of you, it was nice to have him genuinely care about your day. this was time you two had reserved to update each other on your days, no matter how boring. telling him how you applied to a few stores and excitedly explaining how you had bought a matching vinyl to the pillow he had gifted. something that made his day a lot better than you thought it would.

washing your dishes and stacking them, you said goodnight to your dad before lazily walking back up towards your room. he calls out a reminder to call your mom and check when you can go down to see abby, you don't pay any mind to it. already having made mental plans to go down on the firefly reserve next weekend. having a quick shower and crashing on your bed, you close your eyes for a couple moments, content with the day.

the pit wasn't so overbearing anymore, you felt okay, not incredible, but good enough to not spiral. hoping to hear back from at least one of the many places you applied to.

you wonder if you would run into ellie in town someday, especially if you started working there.

groaning at yourself, you refuse to let someone like ellie steal all your thoughts, she was probably just having a bad day that didn’t have anything to do with you. i mean it was the first day back, so she was probably missing the liberty of doing whatever she wanted during the day, explaining her sudden absence.

but you were more upset at her for leaving you alone in biology. you suck at biology. and you didn't want to lose all progress you had made with stevie by asking one of the boys to tutor you since they were the only other two who also did it, just in separate classes. stevie, crystal & cat doing chemistry, a science you were somehow worse at, choosing to suffer in silence instead, asking your dad for help that didn't really help when he doubted his skills more than your own.

opening your eyes and peeking outside, you decided now was the perfect time for your typical nightly routine. opening the lace curtains then your window, grabbing the jumper beside you once the cold air hit you immediately, somehow forgetting about the cloudy breeze waiting for you outside despite the countless times you’ve done this now. before bed, or in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep. even when you got home before your dad did.

opening your pack, you come to the realisation you only have six left, you would be out in the next week or so. cat seemed like the type of person who would know who dealt, maybe even stevie, making a mental note to ask them later if they knew anybody.

taking one out, you grab your lighter from its hidden spot beside the pack underneath the pillows. assuming your regular position of your back leaning against the side wall with your legs spread straight across, you put your cigarette in between your lips and purse, cupping your hand to shield it from the wind and effectively lighting it, but burning yourself in the process, sucking in a pained breath and involuntarily dropping the hot object. you moan at the feeling for a moment clutching your finger with your other hand before assessing the damage, nothing terrible. it would fade within a day or so, focusing back on the cigarette and inhaling, content with the relief it gave.

you take the cigarette from your lips pinching it between your index and middle finger, exhaling towards the outside of your room. grabbing your phone, you dial your moms number. you haven't called her since thursday, it completely slipped your mind last night, so you wanted to make the effort to talk to her now.

one ring, then another, then another, and a few more but she doesn't answer. you give up, putting the cig back in your mouth for another inhale and throwing your phone on your bed. looking outside instead.

your heart skips a beat as you swear you see something from the treeline, standing completely still right in direct eyeliner to your house, jumping in your spot and leaning out the window further, seizing the cigarette from your lips once more and blinking a few times. it was probably just your eyes playing tricks on you, as when you open them again, nothing is there.

nobody would be able to get away that quickly, so you dumb your fears down to an illusion, but you're still shaken up from it for an odd reason, calling it an early night.

reversing your steps, and closing your window, making sure to lock it this time just in case, then your blinds and finally your curtains, you settle into bed. the warm glow from both the lamp beside you and the fairy lights granting you comfort as you lull yourself to sleep, plans on decorating at the forefront of your mind.

sunday goes by far quicker than you would like. you woke up fairly late and was focused on laying out your room the way you would like. it was the first time you had complete freedom with somebody who didn't insist on keeping you their baby forever, so you were savoring it. your mom still hadn’t called you back, you weren’t worried, chalking it down to her enjoying the company of her husband. you begin your journey of meticulously moving things around, carefully choosing what would go where and ensuring you were making it as cozy as possible.

your vinyl shelf being the first thing you set up, you put it beside your desk, stealing the spare outlets beside it for your turntable and then attaching your speakers to the record player itself. displaying them neatly on top, deciding some small figurines and crystals could also make home there.

playing the first vinyl you pulled out of your box, that being ‘all we know is falling’ by paramore, you began to arrange and organise the rest of your collection, a process that took longer than you expected it to, a couple hours at most, but you were extremely happy with the result, you still had a few cubes empty, your collection on full display.

the rest of your room thankfully went by pretty easily, it came naturally for you to decorate. cleaning out your desk, not adding too much to it as you knew your constant schoolwork would clutter it enough, your bedside table not as empty as it previously was, a lamp, book & other small trinkets making a home there. your purse lay resting on the floor beside it.

your wardrobe took the longest, the other two boxes, and two suitcases mainly occupying clothes and some miscellaneous sentimental items you wanted to bring along. spending a majority of your day folding and hanging up clothes, far more than you remembered you had. over half being clothes you wouldn't even be able to wear 90% of the year because of the weather, but you were determined to find a way you could style them while staying warm. about half way through the day, cat sent you a message wondering if you wanted to meet up with the rest of them for lunch, and although you were busy unpacking, you thought some food wasn't a bad idea, and neither was strengthening your connection with the rest. hoping to god that they were the cure to the emptiness you had been feeling, pouring all your energy into the group, just for a chance of feeling normal; content.

but they didn't. you were hoping it was just because you haven't spent enough time with them yet, but you couldn’t spend too long with them anyways, emphasizing how you had to get back to complete your unpacking duties, in a hurry to do so before monday rolled around. cat, jackson, crystal & thomas all offering to tag along and help, an offer you had to politely decline. you were good doing it alone, music playing softly in the background. enjoying it much more than you thought you would have. maybe you could call abby when you got back. saying your goodbyes and tripping on your way out of the cafe, recovering and turning back to see if any of them had noticed, they all had.

offering them an awkward smile and wave goodbye, you turned away and allowed your cheeks to burn, rushing home.

by the time you arrived back, however, your dad whisked away your car instantly and had it taken out to get new tires, explaining to you how they would be safer on the slippery roads. you being sure to thank him profusely for the surprise, comfort settling over you as to how you didn't need to be so worried about crossing the rain with your car.

the day was moving by as if the hours were seconds, and you wanted to savour every last one. you had it to yourself. no worries of the outside world or friends, lost in your own room.

you were sure to call abby that night, cigarette pursed between your lips, talking to her about your recent endeavors and how your first day back went, briefly touching on ellie, a name she seemed to know but refused to explain further, suddenly needing to go. it infuriated you. abby was supposed to comfort and maybe distract you, just a little, the discreet flirting she was giving feeling worthless now.

monday came before you knew it, your room fully decorated and cleaned out. you had developed a morning routine over the past week that didn’t leave you running and dying making your ride, calmly making your way down the stairs, hands gripping the porch railing while you calmly walked to your car, not rushing into anything that would inevitably end up with you slipping and falling flat on your ass, climbing in and turning the heater on immediately. you were wearing something more fashionable than usual for once, wanting to feel good about yourself. the new outfit you had bought yourself on the weekend, a babydoll top paired with warm tights and a simple skirt, same worn chucks as always, not bothering to change that up. you felt good.

you drove to school in silence, no radio in your car meant no music at all, giving you time to sit with your own thoughts. you didn’t know where you stood right now. you really liked your friends, but they could be a bit much sometimes, and you preferred something softer. ellie still occupied your thoughts more than you wanted to admit, although you had been distracting yourself as much as you could throughout the few days you did get to yourself, your thoughts constantly wandered back to her. wondering if she would ever come back to school at all, or if she really just couldn't stand to be around you. you doubted she would return anytime soon. your feet move on their own accord out of your truck and through the courtyard to your first class: biology. it was especially rainy and cold, and in an effort to not ruin the work you had gone through, you threw on your thick oversized jacket and mittens, hauling your bookbag hurriedly out of the open weather.

going to your locker first, you tucked away your mittens, collecting your textbook and holding it to your chest, navigating your way to class. you had grown used to the empty seat beside you, not bothering to check and hanging your jacket up on the hanger at the front of class, facing towards your seat only to see-

her.

you certainly were not expecting her to make her reappearance today. she somehow looked even more appealing than before, an oversized button up shirt with a long sleeve navy undershirt and jeans being her simple outfit, same starry freckles, same shoes, same piercings.

your heart stops as your movements stutter, now feeling very out of place and lost, far more than usual in this class. that was usually in academics and paranoia of people thinking you were a loner, now it's because the one girl you feel like you’ve been waiting centuries for to return is right in front of you, looking straight at you. no hand over her mouth, but no smile either, just curiosity.

pride swells in you, then anger. she still was rude to you, not talking, acting like you were disgusting then practically begging to switch classes away from you, but the anger subsided just as quickly as it had previously, and you made your way to your aisle seat beside her. dropping your bag to the side, almost slipping off your chair for the sixth time, and pulling it in.

after weighing your options, you decide not to speak to her unless she takes the opportunity to talk to you first. you didn't want to force her to be friends with you, she's not looking at you but shyly looking at the table in front of her, the complete opposite to last week, as if she's contemplating what to say. you cross your arms and lean on the bench, looking straight ahead.

“hey. i’m sorry i was unable to introduce myself last week. i’m ellie miller, and i know who you are, but i’m guessing you're tired of people telling you.”

there goes your heart again, your brain short-circuits as her velvety rough voice cuts through you, deep. you stumble over your movements, elbow falling off the table, turning your head but not your body to see her face.

“mhm.”

she gives you the faintest of smiles, breathing in deeply. she genuinely seems to be trying, despite the little she’s spoken to you, it's better than the running away.

her green-amber eyes appear to be more welcoming this time, although you could have sworn they were a dark, almost soulless shade of black the last time you saw her.

you want to ask her what her deal was last week but stop yourself, your teacher frantically running up the aisles, explaining what the practical he had planned would consist of. something about onion cells and differentiating different phases, and that whoever finished first would get a golden onion. exactly what you wanted.

she shifts the microscope over to you once mr. brown finishes explaining, “ladies first.”

internally, you freak out. while you're fine with this unit, you still have fear lingering within you that you’ll answer wrong and look stupid in front of ellie, something you really didn’t want to do.

hesitantly, you take a look into the microscope, identifying the onion root to be in a phase of mitosis after a couple seconds.

“mitosis.” you confidently answer to your lab partner.

“do you mind if i check?”

shifting the microscope over to her, you allow her to have a look for herself.

“mitosis.” she agrees, writing it down on the paper in front of her.

you don't intend on intruding, you really don’t, but your curiosity gets the better of you in a matter of moments, not thinking twice when you question her whereabouts before reality catches up to you and you regret it instantly. “you were gone. where’d you go?”

she switches out the plate, looking down, not answering you for a couple moments, murmuring an answer under her breath and writing it down before looking at you. you don't question the answer, trusting her judgment far more than your own. “i’m sorry about that… i had also meant to apologise before. there were some personal things i had to deal with. i hope everything was okay without a lab partner, though?”

a lab partner. you think. sighing dramatically, “it’s fine i guess, this is only my worst subject anyways” you attempt to joke, hoping it will lighten the mood further. she lets out a low chuckle, averting her eyes from the microscope before piercing you with her gaze once more, opening her mouth to respond before shaking her head, looking back into the microscope.

“what?” you frown “do you want me to have a look? you’ve been doing a lot of work.”

“are you sure i can trust you with getting us the golden onion?”

“hey! i'm not that terrible, i got the first one right.”

she smiles, biting her cheek to stop it from widening. even though her head is down you still see it, her pretending to take so long to identify it to not make you feel as silly.

“how have you been liking jackson weather then?”

you stare at the girl in disbelief, “you’re asking me about… the weather? here?”

her face falls as she seems to realise the uselessness of her own words, smiling at herself, not holding it back this time. “yeah, i guess i am.”

you shudder at her, “it's been okay. it's just so cold all the time, i can't help but miss the heat. the sun, at that.”

“it's supposed to be sunny thursday, i think.” she's gliding through the questions with ease, and you do feel terrible for letting her do so much work, but she doesn't seem to mind one bit. asking you more questions, questions that would be impossibly annoying if they came from anybody else, but from her, it's more personal. she’s actively listening and following up. it's a revitalizing change. “but your outfit is nice. did you get it for this weather?”

she noticed.

“yeah, actually. i got it this weekend.” you smile fondly at her, looking down at your outfit timidly. the emptiness within you is no longer as noticeable, it's not overbearing with ellie.

“how come you went into town?”

the rest of class went like that, time flying by as ellie asked you questions upon questions about your life, getting more personal as time went on. you two won the onion, leaving class side by side with it clutched tightly in your hand while you walked to your locker, questions still coming. you honestly didn't know if she would ever run out.

“so you moved here to make your moms life easier? that doesn’t sound fair on you.” she interrogates, voice slightly rougher now while she learns about your reasoning for leaving your home and coming here instead.

you don't answer her query. “you're full of questions, aren’t you?” you flip it back on her, opening your locker as she leans off to the side, head resting on the metal, looking at you.

pausing, she contemplates her next words, you don’t feel another question approaching though, wondering if she was upset at your sudden change, even though you meant it light heartedly. “i’m just trying to figure you out. you’re a very… difficult person for me to read.”

closing your locker, onion shoved inside, you look at her on instinct. her eyes catching you, pulling you in, making you drown within them.

“are your eyes a different colour?” the comfortable nature of the constant chatter you two had been having didn't make you need to second guess your words around her, but you should know better than to let your guard down.

the question seems to catch her off-guard, though. for some unknown reason. you already know you’ve blown it.

“it's… it’s the fluorescents.” she defends, staring at you for a couple moments, opening and closing her mouth to say something else but deciding against it, marching away from you, watching her back while she strides down the hallway you two just came from, a jacket clutched in her left hand.

slowly turning back towards your locker, you flop your head on it, metal clanging while you close your eyes. all the progress you had just made with ellie was lost, the hole in you reappearing.

you had cursed yourself by having biology with the girl first, the rest of the day going by at a snail's pace, the people around you becoming white noise.

when the final school bell rang, you made no effort in being quick to go, you had nowhere to be anyways. but when you got to the carpark and saw ellie already there, eyeing you as she leant against her car, talking to dina. you walked quicker. you didn't appreciate the back and forth she was giving you. the car park was at its peak population, and you were solely focused on going home.

tossing your back onto the hood of your car, you open it up to try and find your car keys, digging around for a couple seconds, and that's when you hear it, car tires screeching, really close to you. whipping your head around just in time to see jackson and his black van sliding around the carpark, out of control. right towards you.

everything moved in slow motion as you realised you were going to die.

die in this school, in front of hundreds of kids, being squashed by an out of control vehicle. there was no saving you, jacksons panicked face in the driver's seat being the only thing you saw as he frantically tried to swing his wheel away from you to no avail.

you closed your eyes hard, bracing for impact, heart palpating out of your chest as you can hear it in your head. but impact never came.

instead, somebody had taken hold of you, knocking you down to the concrete. you opened your eyes, ellie williams looking back at you, clutching your waist and looking down at you.

you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you, emotions overflowing. you were supposed to die, and she was all the way on the other side of the car park, so how could she have possibly gotten here in such a short amount of time? and how did the car not hit you? a strange dent made behind ellie on your car, and in the car ahead of you.

wordlessly, she stands up, away from you. jumping over your truck and away from the crowds that are surrounding you. people yelling over one another, crystal declaring she had an ambulance on the way while cat wildly scanned you, grabbing your face and looking around to see if you were okay, telling people to back up, it didn't help. your mind was far away, nowhere near this reality.

you have no time to bury yourself deeper into your thoughts, being whisked away into the back of an ambulance, truck abandoned in the school parking lot while more questions were being thrown at you, lights in your eyes, temperature reader in your ears, you weren't sure how much more you could handle.

but you had a few questions of your own, all of them having to do with the same person, ellie miller.

next

taglist, thank you all so much for reading i truly appreciate it beyond words ♡

@daughterofthemoons-stuff @angrybirdsmaster @st0nerlesb0 @cheriedivine

[vampsol]

CHEMTRAILS | 전원우

⟢ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 11K ⟢ GENRE: angst, smut, sprinkles of fluff ⟢ TAGS: heavy themes of grief/death including a mentioned drunk driving incident (do not tread lightly if these topics are difficult for you to read), minor character death (including a child, but it is all offscreen), coworkers au, pet names (baby, doll, etc), light breast play, fingering, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms. LINK TO FIC PLAYLIST -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an incredibly personal story for me, as I have suffered parental loss and it is one of the hardest things I've gone through, but in a way, writing it out has helped heal a small part of me, so I am happy to share this with you all. Bless to my friends beta-ing this for me—Allie (@lovetaroandtaemin), Raven (@shadowkoo), Lily (@prkhaven), Sulkie (@innocygnet), and Tiya (@gyubakeries), and everyone else who read snippets of this before it became what it is now. The fic's title inspo is from a song by Lizzy Mcalpine!

GRIEF DOESN’T END, BUT IT CHANGES SHAPE OVER TIME.

The white text over the image of a pastel sunrise initially made you gag when you stepped into the room, the church’s banner haphazardly put up to prepare for today’s session. Now, it’s all your brain can focus on as the surrounding attendees share their stories. The initial greetings stopped thirty minutes ago, with many at the waterworks now to your secondhand chagrin. Others nod and provide supportive commentary, but you don’t have it in you, silence the only usable response. A few people you recognize from the first few weeks surround you; others are brand new, red-faced as they meander through the reasons for their attendance. 

The four walls reek of silent regret and raw sadness, the sniffles and coughs of those trying to hide their pain sticking to the air like heat on a summer day. You’d prefer it to be a hotter season, if only to focus on something else but the ridiculous text looming over you. But the winter chill that accompanies the gloomy atmosphere is another unpleasant reminder of the dangers of wishful thinking.

You could say all the stories and puffy expressions don’t hit a nerve somewhere deep inside of you, but then you’d be a liar. As you’ve learned in the past year, though, you’re getting very good at hiding and denying.

 It’s been forty-five minutes of passive listening on your end, but your attention remains on the chalky slopes of text against the yellow sun disappearing into the mountain formation.

“It’s been six months, and I still don’t know what to do. When I think I’ve gotten over one stage, I’m reminded of something that sets me back.” One attendee you’ve known from the start, Suzy, continues on while staring into the coffee cup in her hands. She’s typically meek in tone, solemn while her hands stay in her thick coat as she recalls the details of her twin sister’s battle with leukemia. But today, there’s a new aura about her, something clipped and biting that is unique to see in this place.

Maybe she’s on the stage of anger this week.

“You know I’ve said healing isn’t linear, Suzy,” Seungcheol, the director of the group, says in a supportive tone.

“I get that, but can I get a break from feeling more than one stage at once? For the love of God.” She blanches immediately and mutters out an apology, making you chuckle to yourself.

You used to think that the phenomenon was a myth, a way for people to rationalize their pain by separating all of it into clear, definable chunks. While you’re now well acquainted with each piece of grief, they all remain a mystery in your eyes. You’re unsure who to ask for the right answers, and you’re not opening your mouth now to humor the group with questions.

The plan has always been the same: attend each session like you’re supposed to, get your slip signed off, and go home. That was the routine for the past two weeks, nothing more to add or subtract. When people addressed you, you weren't unfriendly, but you didn't offer any information. These things considered, you’re adamant about keeping with tradition for the remaining six meetings, including this one.

Yet, the second the door of the church opens, and you see Jeon Wonwoo enter, you know it’ll be impossible to continue staying under the radar.

Wonwoo apologizes profusely as Seungcheol pulls up a chair for the newcomer. Wonwoo’s wearing a scarf that covers a substantial amount of his face, but you’d recognize his wire-frame glasses and that black mop of hair anywhere. He may barely be an acquaintance, but he’s not terrible to look at. “My car was giving me trouble this morning, so—”

“No problem, man,” Seungcheol cuts him off. “Nobody’s late here. You’re always arriving somewhere at the moment you’re meant to, I always say.”

You roll your eyes and tuck your arms tighter into your chest. The older guy always has a plethora of slogans for personal growth up his sleeve. You reckon he probably made the fucking sign with the awful font and stereotypically hopeful photography? It’s anyone’s guess, but you have a good one.

Some hair falls into your face just as Wonwoo sits across from you in the large circle. You think that just might save you from being seen, but recognition crosses his face out of the corner of your eye, and you curse under your breath, knowing you’re fucked.

Jeon Wonwoo, from the legal team at the publishing house you both work for, sees you, the quiet girl from the marketing department. He must have some idea why, given his department’s close relationship with your higher-ups, and that makes your intestines twist in a way akin to food poisoning. You think it may be the perfect time for the world to split open under your feet and take you away, but that’s only a dreamer’s level of luck.

“So, Wonwoo, you’re a newcomer, as we can see. What brings you to the group?”

Wonwoo stutters on an explanation, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I think the lady before me was in the middle of her story, but maybe I can share after.”

Seungcheol winks in acknowledgement and goes back to Suzy, continuing where they left off in their discussion. “So, for the stages…”

You feel the heat of Wonwoo’s gaze from across the circle. He’s probably trying to decipher just exactly what led you to this place. Not the church, per se, but the situation at hand. Tired of the burn of his irises on you, you turn your stare on him. His eyes look small under the guise of his glasses, but they enlarge considerably when you make it known you’ve caught him ogling. With your mouth in a thin line but your eyebrows quirked up, you send him a silent dare to continue staring. To your pleasure, he pales and turns away, looking in the same direction as everyone else as Suzy continues on with her rant.

Any secondhand inkling you had to share with the group before the end of the program dies with the turn of Wonwoo’s head, and you prefer it that way. His presence gives you an excuse to not break from routine. Not like you were going to, anyway.

“He was there?” Wooyoung ruffles his hair in secondhand embarrassment, the sound of his nervous expel of breath drowned out by the music in the bar. The local hotspot was a mere five blocks away from your work, and it rarely became overcrowded before you guys had the chance to leave, so coming around now and then with your best friend was still doable, even under your circumstances. It was hard to say no to Wooyoung when he gave you such toothy grins and pleading words. “You barely come out anymore, at least try to spend some time with me for a bit? It’ll be good for you.”

He had to be the only person left you could stomach being around, and the last man on the planet who could handle your latest less than sunny disposition.

Wooyoung immediately goes back to making his shot for the solid blue ball close to the top left-hand pocket when you shoot him a glare that even he can’t joke himself out of. “You think he’ll say anything?” he asks as he moves his pool stick back and forth, testing the waters of the angle he’s chosen to hit the cue ball from.

“I hope not.” You groan and knock your head against your pool stick. Replaying yesterday afternoon in your head, you barely could get through the workday filled with pitch proposals and strategy meetings. You couldn’t help but wonder if Wonwoo was lurking around every corner of the building, waiting to discuss how he saw you and tease you for something not meant for teasing. He didn’t seem like the type to do so, but you expect less and less from the male population with every passing day. “He probably already knows about what happened anyway.”

Wooyoung hits the ball, but it veers a little too far for the shot to be completed. He swears, an audible “fuck me” rolling off of his tongue. You make haste going for the striped orange ball, and with no seconds to spare, you hit it into the center right cup. You land another two before your best friend has a chance again, but it doesn't matter. All that’s left for you to shoot in is the eight ball.

“One day I’ll manage to get close to beating you.”

“The night’s still young,” you respond before chugging down what’s left of your bottle of soju. The alcohol goes down your throat smoothly, but it doesn’t soothe the itch that still sits under your skin. With another few drinks, and you teetering on the line between buzzing and full-blown drunk, you think you’ll be able to forget the feeling exists.

That sting only intensifies when you see a handful of guys from the legal team walk in, Vernon and Jihoon trailing behind Wonwoo’s towering form. Their presence causes you to miss the eight ball entirely, the cue ball slowly rolling towards a pocket until it falls in.

“Goddamnit, man,” you curse. You reach for your drink, but you curse again when the empty bottle touches your lips.

Before Wooyoung can ask, he turns his head to see the men going up to the bartender and gnaws at his lip. “Maybe they won’t notice us?”

“That’s as likely as you getting a girlfriend,” you tease. You pull a couple of dollar bills out of your pocket and set your pool stick down when you see the men edging away from the bar-top. It may be a risk when they’re still so close by, but your dry mouth tells you to take the chance. “I’m gonna get us another round.”

You place your hands firmly on the shining wood of the bar, the gloss of it contrasting with the rough calluses and paper cuts across your hands. A few fingers beckon the bartender over with a new set of soju bottles. The green glass that holds the liquid refracts against the overhead lights. It’s so bright, you don’t notice the figure whose shadow mars their outlines.

“Didn’t think you were the drinking type,” Wonwoo finally pipes up. Where his voice yesterday was quick and bashful, and his typical tone at work is clinical to the letter, the cadence of it now is warm, like a smooth pool of honey.

His arm brushes yours as he places a few bucks of his own on the bar for the bartender to take. The contact raises gooseflesh across the space where his skin met yours for the briefest of moments. It sends a new itch up your spine, one that’s barely familiar and on the cusp of foreign. You lie to yourself with careful precision, swearing in hushed tones inside your brain that it doesn’t ignite a long, burnt-out flame somewhere inside of you, and you almost believe it.

Almost.

“I also didn’t used to go to work-mandated support groups, but here we are.” You aim your bottle in his direction with the slightest of tips, a sarcastic salute that doesn’t make your secret any easier to address out loud. You sip gingerly, the pull of your lips from the bottle long and slow, but the alcohol holds no solution for your bitter tongue or sick stomach.

You know this, and you drink anyway. It’s better than the alternative.

Wonwoo’s the one who takes the bottle from your mouth. A few dribbles of soju trickle down your chin, but before you can snatch it back, he says, “I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried to begin with.”

He nods with a close-lipped smirk, in no way believing your glib. The bartender brings three gin and tonics for Wonwoo’s troupe, and you can’t hold back the giggle that erupts from deep in your throat. “Typical.”

“What? G and Ts are too good for you, miss marketing expert?” Vernon and Jihoon call their coworker with a loud shout of his name when they see their drinks are ready, but Wonwoo throws them an expression that shuts the younger men up.

“Who said I was an expert? That’s Soobin’s role, anyway.” You tut your head in a random direction. You have nothing to prove to Wonwoo, but you take pride in your job being higher than one of meager content creation. He chuckles, and the sound tickles your ears in a way you push down. “I’m a trend analyst.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you don’t speak during the meetings? You’ve already predicted that sharing is a waste of time?”

You sober immediately at his questions. You grip the neck of the soju bottle tighter as you try composing an answer, anger prickling the base of your neck. What can you say that gives nothing away and keeps with the pre-set banter, all while you remain even-keeled? You land on, “It’s not like that,” and make your move to walk away, bored with the conversation now.

Wooyoung looks over at you like you’re crazy, and you know the thoughts immediately swirling in your best friend’s head. You haven’t flirted with a man in probably half a decade, at least, but if the nerd isn’t getting any, the very least you could do is entertain some sort of romantic attention for the two of you.

Wonwoo grabs your arm softly, his fingers setting the same fire the contact from before did, but it holds an entirely new scope and set of stakes. “Humor me. What’s it like, then?” His voice is featherlight, gentle in its prodding. He holds no judgement, his earlier words only teasing but clearly striking a nerve in you he’s trying to amend with his new tone.

You avoid his gaze, finally landing back on the pool table where Wooyoung awaits. The kernel of an idea pops up alongside your smile. “Play me for it.”

“What?” Wonwoo chuckles, perplexed. You point towards the table with your index finger, and Wooyoung immediately turns his head, attempting to hide his spying to no avail.

“You win, I’ll tell you why I’m in that group.” Your smirk grows, the cheshire cat smile that now adorns your face growing with every word. “I win, you tell me what you were doing there yesterday in the first place.”

You put a hand between your incredibly close bodies, a fact you did not realize until you offered some ante for Wonwoo to chew on, and he takes the bait like you expected him to. “Deal.”

He shakes your hand firmly. It’s another set of touches that warms you to the bone in a way liquor never has before. You shuck that information to the side as you walk to the pool table with Wonwoo hot on your heels. He stops to deliver the drinks to his awaiting team, but he makes it to you with a few quick strides.

“Want me to break, or do you need to prove you can play first?” you ask with the same tantalizing smile you wagered him with.

He takes a hefty sip of his tonic and licks his bottom lip to catch the alcohol that threatens to spill over. “By all means.”

If only he knew how stupid it was to let the lady go first this time.

Wonwoo stares down into the pocket the eight-ball just flew into. While he’s mystified how you managed to just destroy his record and prove him wrong in a matter of ten minutes and three plays, you smirk openly. It always used to bug ex-boyfriends and situationships when you were better at a more masculine task or hobby than they were, but you always flicked their comments back with a middle finger and a nonplussed demeanor. It’s a delightful change of pace for someone as attractive and confident as Wonwoo to be mystified by your capabilities, even at the expense of his pride.

“She beats me all the time, man. Don’t sweat it.” Wooyoung tries to walk up and rustle your newly defeated opponent on the shoulder. He thinks better of it when Wonwoo gives him the same glare you threw at the younger guy a short time ago.

Your best friend offers to grab you another drink as you laugh, but you shake your head. “Gotta head home. Carat can’t feed herself.”

Wonwoo gives you a quizzical expression as Wooyoung leaves, and you respond with, “My fish. Very adamant about her feeding schedule.”

He flashes a high-wattage grin, and the feelings he’s stirred in you tonight try to scratch their way back to the surface, but you repress them once again. It means nothing, anyway. You won’t act on it, and the guy is probably ready to hightail it back to his friends by now.

He offers to walk you out, and all your preconceived notions upend themselves into the air. Wooyoung pulls you by the shoulder when you say goodbye and whispers, “If you miss out on that guy now, you’re even more ridiculous than I thought. And I’ve seen you suck your thumb while you sleep, remember that.”

When you make it to the driver’s side door, you remember it’s time to collect your payment. Now or never. “So, gonna tell me why you were in the group yesterday? Or will you chicken out with the best two out of three rounds?”

“Easy, I’ll tell you,” he says, concealing a grin until his next words come out. “But, it’ll be during dinner tomorrow night. My place?”

You gulp down heavy air, again recognizing the clear proximity of your chest to his. You can see the slow rise and fall of his upper body, his heart steady but clearly put on edge. He’s patient but barely, waiting for you to either accept the invitation or decline with bated breath.

“Why?”

You don’t mean for the word to come out the way it does, one-fourth hopeful and the remaining three-fourths speculative. It’s not like you’re unappealing under normal circumstances, but the girl who would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a date with a cute guy is not who’s standing in front of Wonwoo right now. You want to be her, trade your place for hers to make the smile on his face brighten, but you’re unsure how to get her back, and if there’s any point.

“Because I owe you, don’t I?” You shrug your arms, not saying no but not giving him confirmation either. “And you’re not the type to not collect when you’re owed something.”

“What makes you think that?” Some of your fire returns as you cross your arms, body posture exemplifying your intrigue.

“Because you wouldn’t have bet against me knowing you’d win if you were.”

There’s no witty remark or sarcastic comeback that comes to mind. He so easily saw through you, it scares you into saying yes right there. But, even while ruminating for a moment, you search for reasons to deny him of your company, and you find none. If tonight wasn’t so bad, what’s one more without expectations?

“Sure,” you finally say, and he gives you the grin you were looking for that could go toe to toe with any city streetlight. That mesmerizing, gum-revealing grin that makes a part of your knees weak.

You knew he was nice to look at from faraway in the secrecy of your cubicle, but it’s at a new level now, one that’s unquellable.

On the drive home, as you replay his smile in your mind’s eye, you know without a doubt that the buzz in your veins isn’t just because of the soju still lingering in your bloodstream.

It’s not, under any circumstances, a date. 

You parrot the words as you move around your bedroom, the clock on your dresser practically screaming at you to leave while the day is young. Work ended an hour ago, and you’re still stumbling on what to do about your attire.

No way is this a date. I’ve been on them before, I know it when I see it.

The recesses of your mind try to commit every sentence to memory as you put on lipstick, curl your hair, and throw an old dress under a denim jacket. It’s habitual to look nice for a new person, you remind yourself. It’s not like Wonwoo won’t welcome you into his home if you’re wearing a greasy t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, but you digress. You’re simply collecting on your payment, and if he takes it any other way, that’s his problem to deal with.

The ride to his apartment is tense, to say the least. A million thoughts run through your head while you grip the steering wheel tight during every turn and stop through the city to his downtown complex. You try to make light of the building that greets you, thinking about how much legal counsel must make to afford such swanky living spaces, but it doesn’t help. Your hands tremble, no matter how forcefully you clench your fists to stop the shaking.

He’s Wonwoo, a guy who has an interest in seeing you outside of a professional setting, and you’re you, half emotionally composed on your very best day as of late. You have some basis for being nervous, no matter what one would call the meeting arranged between you two today.

He called it dinner, so you’ll start there.

Greeting you at your door in a black V-neck and gray jeans, he looks too clean for someone who must’ve been lounging around before you arrived. “You look nice. Got a hot date or something?” He bites his lip in satisfaction when you huff out a breath of air, blowing off his harmless dig.

“I’m here for the information I won last night. And the plate of food you promised me.”

He beckons you inside with a smile and an arm pointed inside, and you walk through the threshold with all the knots in your stomach, reminding you of their presence with every step.

Wonwoo’s living space appears to be stereotypical for a guy in his mid-twenties. The apartment’s all dark wood and grey wallpaper, from his industrial bar table to the kitchen marble, but he’s made it his in his own way. Some action figures line a bookshelf near the kitchen, and a guitar sits on its stand in the corner of the entertainment center dominating the living room. But you glean little pieces of information about him from the tchotchkes that surround you. The black cat plushie that sits on the sofa, the NASA magazines he must have a subscription for, and the sounds of jazz playing low on the TV all indicate the quiet eccentricities of his personality.

He’s a secretively unique guy on the page and in person, and you admire it. Some part of it scares you, how easily you’ve grown accustomed to him in a few short meetings, but that’s not anything to mull over right now.

“I was just fixing the pasta when you showed up. You can sit anywhere.” He moves his head in either direction of the couch or the table, but you saunter over to his side instead.

The aroma of the tomato wafts across your nose, the sauce definitely homemade rather than store-bought. You peer over into the pot, the margarita-covered penne mixed in with vegetables and meat. “Who knew you could cook?”

Wonwoo chuckles, hearty and deep, as he stirs the food in the pot. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

Yet. He says the word with such relaxation, like it’s inevitable you will discover more information about him. Like he’s certain you’re not going anywhere. It has to be a delusion of the future filling him with such confidence, without a doubt.

Shortly after that, the table’s decorated with towering plates of pasta and a lit candle at the center. The mixed scents of vanilla, jasmine, and tomato sauce blend harmoniously somehow.

You share small talk about Wonwoo’s cooking skills and your pool abilities over dinner, bantering throughout with the dry humor you delivered yesterday. Wonwoo takes it all with a smirk, volleying it back at you with charm that makes you forget your dinner exists altogether. You don’t eat all the food on your plate, but you’ve never been more full.

Both of you migrate to the couch with your glasses of wine, leaving the plates on the wood’s high-top and getting comfortably lost in more conversation. Suddenly, you remember exactly why you’re there, and you turn the tides of the conversation to address the purpose of your attendance. “So, the support group.”

Wonwoo laughs into his glass, shaking his head in a gesture that tells you he was just waiting for the inevitable. “What do you wanna know?”

“Why were you there?”

Wonwoo’s smile turns small, still bright but a tad dimmer, and a stone sinks down deep into your stomach. “It was my mother’s birthday that day. She died three years ago in April, but her birthday is always the hardest day for me to get through.”

“It was a sudden sickness, one that we didn’t expect her to get.” He runs his thumb along the ring of his drink, his finger leaving an opaque smudge. He looks back up eventually, the ghost of his small smile haunting his features. “I’m just grateful I had the time with her that I did before it was too late, you know?”

Wonwoo’s words reroute all the knots from your core to your throat, making you unable to speak. You click your own nails against your drink in a pattern, counting the beats in sequence to avoid the tears welling in your eye ducts. One, two, three, four taps. 

Four becomes five until Wonwoo brushes a hand along your knee. “Are you alright? I know that was heavy, but a winner deserves her prize, right?”

You appreciate Wonwoo trying to lighten the mood that you’ve darkened with your silence. The slam of the bottom of your wine glass startles Wonwoo a smidge, and while you didn’t mean to scare him, you know you need to leave before you fall apart.

“This was fun, Won, but I-I have to go.” A tear falls from your face as you speak, another escaping before you can make the waterworks disappear. Wonwoo holds your arm the same way he did a day ago when you were so close to leaving before. This time is different, though.

Wonwoo’s worry for you and whatever’s haunting you replaces his previous somberness. You recognize the contortion of his face like the back of your hand. You’ve seen it in family members and their condolences. The friends you kept and even the ones you lost from being distant. Even coworkers you never spoke to and random strangers who could recognize the shadows of loss.

It disgusts you, and you can’t bear to see it from Wonwoo of all people. You attempt to yank your arm away like your life depends on it, but he doesn’t let you slip away so easily. “Will you talk to me, please?” he asks. “You don’t have to hold back whatever you want to say.”

“I’m not, not at all. And it’s presumptuous of you to assume I am.” You shake your head, voice sputtering on some kind of laugh. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I do.” Again, the space between you and him is virtually nonexistent. Your hearts match in rhythm, despite your sadness and apprehension. The unspoken strings between you snap one by one with every movement of his hand, slowly reaching higher until his hand cups your face. His thumb runs over your jaw bone.

You don’t know whether to pull him closer or run now that’s holding you with a looser grip, and the thought is as sobering as his mouth a breath from yours.

“I have to go.” You clutch his wrist with your hand, but you make no move to turn and walk away. You leave indents in his skin from your nails gripping him, but he doesn’t break his hold either.

Then, in a broken trance, he lets you go and steps back, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you at work, then?”

You nod. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Anytime, really.”

You think about the importance of words, what they carry and how deeply they can mean when a person you care about says them. “Yet” and “anytime” have never been of significant value to you before, passing vocabulary that’s left little for your heart to grasp onto. But he says it without facades, each vowel and consonant holding the undercurrents of his desires. You feel your knees buckle a touch as you ponder it on your way out of his apartment and to your car. Your thoughts dwell on what that kiss would’ve felt like, and the panic that follows when you realize how badly you wanted it.

A week flies by, and then two more, until you realize you’re always passing Wonwoo’s cubicle with a cup of coffee, or he’s pestering you with a sticky note or two regarding legal jargon you’ll never read up on.

Neither of you mention what almost occurred in his living room so long ago, but it feels like only a second between that moment and the present when he’s inhabiting your space at work or blowing up your phone.

You don’t know why he started calling and texting right around the time you were prepared to shut your eyes for sleep, but it was a comfort you didn’t mind cherishing before dreamland took you under its wing. His explanations of corporate law terminology to the plotlines of One Piece became your lullabies.

A regular person can’t cement themselves in your life overnight, but Wonwoo is anything but regular.

As you’re filling out your timesheet for the week, your thoughts circle back to Wonwoo as you notice him in the conference room with the rest of the legal team. Vernon talks animatedly with his hands as Minghao and Jun type down notes. It’s a riveting silent film, but the only actor you’re interested in is pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose incrementally, and it makes you melt in your chair.

You have emails to type, spreadsheets to complete, and here you are acting like a high schooler with an unrequited crush.

Pulled sharply from your daze, Wooyoung bats you on the shoulder with his clipboard. San from HR laughs at your best friend’s assault on you, your acquaintance’s chest rippling as you rub your shoulder and give Wooyoung your signature glare. “What the fuck?”

“You should focus on the November report instead of ogling your new piece of man candy.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, calm and collected, even though someone has now turned the judgement on you for your prying eyes. Wooyoung had his own priorities as a market strategist; he had no business judging you for taking time off of business tasks to ogle.

You return to your initial view of the conference room, watching the gentleman in the confines of the glass office.

You don’t expect Wonwoo to be staring right at you when you turn your attention back to their meeting. Wooyoung and San talk amongst themselves about your comical behavior in the third person, but you don’t mind them and their idiocy. You’re too focused on the man who’s a dozen feet away.

Wonwoo practically gives you the same glare you delivered to him in the support group the first time he was there, but his eyes are all humor and no bite. He holds his binder up a smidge, signaling somehow for you to look down at the one propped against your laptop. You find a blue sticky note sitting on the front of it, and you know Wonwoo must’ve stuck it there when you went to the bathroom a half hour ago.

7 PM showing of Spider-Man Saturday. You in? X

It’s a measly set of perpendicular lines in Wonwoo’s handwriting, nothing extravagant on the sticky note itself. How can the letter and his proposition turn your heart into mush so easily? And why does it make you immediately nod in Wonwoo’s direction?

What was he doing to you?

You’ve watched the 2003 film many times in your life—you could recite the lines by heart, truth be told—yet seeing Toby McGuire swinging around in a latex suit still brings childlike wonder out in you. You smile into your handful of popcorn at the scene before you, the kicks and punches between Spiderman and the Green Goblin in the middle of Manhattan amplified by the theater’s sound system.

You dressed up a bit more this time for the outing with Wonwoo, despite your self-insistence on keeping it casual. Nothing had happened between you up to this point, only the opportunity for a kiss that never came. Who was to say anything romantic would happen now in the darkness of a theater?

The movie cuts to Spiderman swinging Mary Jane to a hotel high-rise away from the chaos of Times Square, and Wonwoo picks that moment to take the hand not holding more popcorn into his own.

It’s a funny feeling, the moment before something unexpected happens. It’s like your body bristles to a point of high alert before you’re struck with the reality something is occurring, for better or worse. He rubs the back of your hand in slow, delicate circles, and it feels like the start of something good while every cell inside of you screams to run.

The flutter inside of your stomach at his touch dies when you give into the spiraling thoughts, a cruel voice reminding you the butterflies won’t last. It carries the face of a person you’d rather forget. A smile that haunts every hour of your existence, and eyes you wish you could look into one more time outside of your nightmares.

You tug your hand free and speed out of the theater, not bothering to look behind you to see if Wonwoo is following you. You know he is, his calls of your name muffled amid the horrendous laughter ringing in your ears. When you’ve stopped running, you realize it’s raining all around you outside. The alleyway behind the theater only provides so much cover, but Wonwoo doesn’t care. All he wants to do is hold you as you’re hyperventilating, so he does.

“Hey, hey, hey. What happened?”

You hiccup, unsure how to go about saying the words when a phantom hangs over your shoulder and whispers words you have no willpower to fight. What makes him any different from everyone else? Nothing, and you know it.

“I’m right here,” he swears like it’s true, and you see red.

“Until you get sick of it, right?” You can’t look him in the eye as you say it, but it doesn’t make it feel less true expressing it out loud. “This isn’t gonna change. You’ll always wonder what’s wrong. I’ll never give you a valid excuse because I barely fucking know myself and shut you out. You’ll get bored really quick, Wonwoo, so what’s the point?”

“What are you talking about?” His mouth hangs at you accusatory questions, and it only makes you laugh harder. 

It’s easy to pretend your tears are only rainwater splashing down your face.

“There’s no point chasing after me anymore. I’m not worth the hassle, and it’s too much baggage for you to unpack, so don’t waste any more of your time.” You move his hands from your face with weak fingers and watch his arms fall limply at his sides as you turn to head towards the sidewalk and back to your car.

Wonwoo’s laugh is so bitter, you can taste it on your tongue. “You may think that what you’re going through is something nobody can understand, but a part of you knows you’re being ridiculous right now.”

You shake your head and continue down your path, barking back at him with a “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re not the first person to lose someone, and you won’t be the last!” You stop walking down the alleyway, and you hear the sharp intake of breath on Wonwoo’s lips. He takes another second and set of steps to get closer to you before saying, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

You turn sharply, hair whipping across the open air. “You wanna know why I’m in the group, Won?” Your question drips with rhetoric like venom, sarcasm bordering on fury. “Because I got tired of all the noise of everything after…after—Chaewon just wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone about work and what was going on with me. And everyone at that point kept poking with their pity until the shit I said and did that day happened.” You flail your arms at your sides, the rain soaking through your sleeves. 

It was unprofessional, a huge moral deficit, as your boss put it. Especially when all Chaewon asked for was a valid reason for an extension on your trend report. “No coworker, especially not a subordinate, should treat another coworker that way. Your personal matters should not impede on your ability to be a team player.”

Your boss used every administrative play in the book while looking over the materials you ruined for the newest magazine issue, and that was before you screamed in your department head’s face. You didn’t mean to hurt Chaewon the way you did, but admittedly, it felt good to do it.

It was nice to let a part of you run free, even if it was a vulgar and unapologetic piece. But if you had known it would cost you every ounce of your pride and some semblance of your privacy, you would’ve thought twice. 

Your entire body is drenched by the time you finish your tirade, as is Wonwoo’s. “So yeah, that’s why they put me in that pity party of a support group. Because God forbid I snapped one fucking time for a valid fucking reason.”

“They just wanted you to get some help. Everyone needs that sometimes,” Wonwoo murmurs. He tries to step closer, each movement apprehensive, like he’s cornering a rabid cat into a carrier.

His movements make you feel like one, a wounded animal in need of immediate attention without regard for its unwillingness to accept it. It turns your eyesight red, and you think you may just be feral at this point. “I don’t need anyone’s help, Wonwoo! Not that group, not Seungcheol, not the damn lackeys in that fucking office, and especially not—”

Wonwoo gives up the pretenses and yanks you into his arms. He plants a hand across your hair and squeezes you in his hold, still tender despite the vice grip he has you in. The tightness of his hug shakes something loose in you, and you barely recognize you’re crying until Wonwoo cradles you closer and shushes you, even as the rain beats down on you both. “I’m here,” he promises.

“I don’t need to be saved, Wonwoo,” you say through fractured, sob-laced hiccups. Your eyes look past his brown ones, into the depths of his soul as you ask—plead even—“I just want to make the pain stop.”

“Let me help,” Wonwoo offers, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. It may be the most ridiculous, careless thing you can do at the moment, but when the urge to kiss him comes, you don’t stop it.

Call it an emotional break or a sudden rush of your suppressed desire shining through, but the second you press your lips to his in that brick alleyway, you don’t regret it. He tastes like salvation, of unbreakable promises. It could either heal or ruin you, but you don’t mind if it’s a little of both.

The raindrops cling to your clothes like a second skin, latching onto every curve. It’s easy to shed with the help of Wonwoo’s hands. By the time you’re an inch away from the doorframe of his bedroom, he’s wearing his briefs, and you’re left in your underwear. His warmth wraps around every part of your body like a campfire, stoking all the cold out of you and bathing you in the heat he provides. The thunder roars on, and lightning splashes the sky in white streaks, but the only light that sustains you is him.

“Is this okay?” He mumbles as he grazes the underside of your bralette. The material is so drenched that he can see the peaks of your nipples through it, but he’s trying to keep his composure and go at a speed you’re comfortable with.

You don’t hesitate, not wanting the moment to be dampened by your worst thoughts. They’re at bay now, and you want to use that time for what it’s worth. “More than okay.” You unclasp your bralette from your back, letting the wet garment plop to the floor. “Touch me, please.”

His index finger drags so slowly across your nipple, the ripple of electricity that tickles your skin follows the same tempo. While you’re willing to go fast, Wonwoo cherishes you with reverence. Even as he takes your nipple between his lips, moving his fingers down your stomach and into your underwear, he remains patient. “So wet,” he groans against your skin when he guides his fingers along your slick folds. It’s like he’s discovering a precious treasure before him, twirling your wet curls in his hair with his free hand as he runs the pads of his opposite fingers through slick heaven.

You tremble in his hands, all the nerves in your body a hot, frenzied mess in his hold. He thumbs your clit in slow circles, making it hard to stand any longer in the in-between space of his living room and bedroom. “Woo, I want more.”

He takes his fingers from your center and lifts you into his arms. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and he chuckles into your throat. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You giggle before he reattaches his lips to yours. His kisses taste like rainwater and second chances, physical proof that not everything has to be lost. He never lets you go or takes his mouth away on the slow trek to his bed.

Wonwoo sets you down gently, his eyes giving away all of his vulnerability. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” You blush, wrapping an arm around your face, but he pulls it away and kisses each finger on your hand. “Every inch of you.”

The words go unsaid, but the bite of his lip and dark hood of his eyes tell you his desire goes beyond lust. I want to explore you forever.

Even the parts of you that you’ve deemed too dark, too painful, too unworthy of anyone’s entry. His expression tells you he may just take the risk and split you open fully to see what’s inside. With his eyes peering deeply into your soul, you think all he sees is hope. Like your heart holds the sun that peers out after the worst downpour in the world.

He rolls his briefs down his hips until his length springs free, knocking into the lower segment of his abdomen from how hard he is. “And you called me beautiful,” you say, breathless. Wonwoo’s cock drips pre-cum at the swollen tip, and you have no qualms sitting up and reaching out to encase him in your palm, running his essence across his skin.

He tips his head back and his mouth goes slack, a curse leaving his tongue. “You may kill me.”

You smile and run your lips along his neck, dragging your canines along the skin of his jugular. “If I do, I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

Before he can get too lost in the pleasure of your fingers wrapped around him, he traps your body between his own and the sheets below you. He doesn’t stop kissing you once he finds your lips again, even as he stumbles finding a condom in his bedside drawer and rolls the latex onto himself.

You don’t need to prepare for the eventual drag of his cock between your walls, already dripping from his previous touches, but he envelops you completely when he fills you to the hilt. He fits so snug inside of you; you think he could sit there forever and never leave. “You’re so tight, holy shit,” Wonwoo moans as he begins moving his hips.

You release a garbled moan, the sound practically swallowed by his tongue in your mouth. He takes and teases, but he always gives it back, rolling his lower half into you with a deliberate pace that helps you inch closer to a release. It paints the back of your eyelids in slow strokes. The act of getting there is as beautiful as the release itself when it’s with someone like Wonwoo giving you such perfect bouts of pleasure.

This feeling, like Wonwoo, is addictive and addicting in the same instance. You think you could get used to this, and it’s not just the lust having its way with your mind. Having all of him like this, his days and nights, rain or shine, may just be possible with the way he pours his devotion into your body. You just have to give him the opportunity.

He kisses you with the strength of a thousand stars exploding at once, and that’s the moment you fall apart underneath him. You let yourself bask in the feeling of your orgasm. You clutch onto his shoulders tightly as your walls spasm around him, sucking him in for every drop of pleasure he has to give.

He spills into the condom soon after, his hips stuttering and his kisses stilling as he feels his body succumb to the same pleasure you felt a few moments ago. The look on his face is pure bliss, the laugh on his lips the softest sound to accompany the pitter patters of rain on the window.

He throws the latex away before nestling back into the bedsheets with you. His arms wrap around you like vines as you rest your head on his chest. It's a comfortable silence between you, no words needing to be said to express your feelings for him.

I know you could love me forever if I give you the chance to.

You feel his response in the slow fall of his heart rate and the small snores he emits in the crown of your hair. The softness of his being is all you need to fall asleep too, and you think it may just be worth it to let him in.

The moment you wake, you feel a wave of nausea creep through you. The thoughts that erupted in that rainy alleyway a handful of hours ago come back with a vengeance. They clutch your throat with a begrudging hand until water streams from your eyes, hitting Wonwoo’s pillows like bullets. You try to subdue the sobs that rack your body, terrified of waking the man sleeping next to you, but it proves to be a fruitless fear. He sleeps like a stone through it all, immovable and solid.

With weak limbs and a fuzzy mind, you unbind yourself from Wonwoo’s hold and collect your things when you get out of the bed. Every piece of your heart breaks, the glued pieces of porcelain cracking once again into a heap on the floor as you walk away and out of his apartment.

It could only last for so long, that peace he provided, and you feel foolish for thinking a few hours of pleasure could change the new reality you’ve come to grips with long ago.

What the fuck did I do? I shouldn’t have gone out with him again. I’m so stupid.

Driving home in the rain, you try to turn on the radio to something that will be loud enough to drown out the spiraling thoughts and the sounds of your sobs reverberating through your tiny car’s interior. With a cruel twist of luck, Billy Joel’s “Everybody Has A Dream,” blares through the speakers. The piano chords and Joel’s whistles are ones you could recognize anywhere, and it stops your brain from falling further down the hole you’re accustomed to.

It’s his song, the song you have barely gotten through a note of without bawling.

You stop your car in the center of the road, despite the light being green in front of you. Cars screech behind you and blare their horns, some even roll down their window in the soaked night to curse at you, but you don’t care. The entire world could burn down, and all you would hear is the keys of the piano signaling your send-off.

The rivers on your cheeks become floods, all-encompassing and combating the leftover parts of the storm raging on outside of your vehicle. It makes the veins in your head pulse like a bass drum, but there’s nothing else to do, even if the song’s faded out by now. The DJ’s voice fills the space, but you can barely hear him.

You hate your father; the realization strikes you like a penknife to the heart as you press your forehead into the steering wheel, knocking your knuckles into its center until your own horn screams back at you. You hate him for leaving you alone to pick up the shards he created by going away too soon, sooner than you were prepared for. How could he part from you with such a gaping hole left in your chest and no roadmap for how to fix it? Was it even possible to mend such a wound when its shape was present everywhere you looked?

You continue to sob, no grounding techniques or motivational words coming to mind as your heart restarts just to bleed out all over again. 

Some time after the funeral, a doctor told you grief often changes the chemistry of a person’s brain. It undergoes neuroplastic changes and leads to alterations in emotional regulation and cognition. It made sense, given the way you exploded on Chaewon two months ago in front of everyone in the office. And all of that, the choice to either take a mandatory leave or seek counseling, led to that ridiculous fucking support group. And all the moments you shared with Wonwoo since then.

Guilt bubbles up behind your anger until it overtakes it, the way you’ve been acting almost shameful. You don’t regret him, but you regret this tugging you’ve done with his emotions alongside your own. But what other options have you had at your disposal? You’ve been stumbling around in the dark for so long, the light is not something someone easily accustoms themselves to again.

And Wonwoo is a person who exudes a radiance unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. You can’t believe there’s a chance he can truly seep into the darkness you live with now and soak it up for you. Not without him taking on some of it himself. 

You decide when the tears come at a slower pace that you won’t let him; he’s worth more than that. And it might break what’s left of the fraction of hope you held onto when you met him, but you’re grateful he gave you something at the very least. It’s better than nothing.

“I still think about what it would be like to kill him, even if I know it wouldn’t solve anything.” Hongjoong grumbles, twiddling his pack of nicotine gum between his fingers. “In my dreams, I do. I do it before he has the chance to make it past my driveway. Before I forgot to watch her playing.” Hongjoong breaks into a fit of angry sobs, and it tugs at your heartstrings bitterly.

The police and cops ruled the death of Hongjoong’s five-year-old daughter vehicular manslaughter. The guy who committed the crime had been remorseful and received less time because of his allocution. According to Hongjoong, he forgave the stranger a long time ago, but you don’t think anyone blames him for the anger and resentment that still lingers.

“Do you think your wife or other children gain anything by continuing to harbor this anger?” Seungcheol asks with no judgement, just objective curiosity.

It strikes a nerve in you, so deep it pulls a response out of your lips before you can stop it. “That’s a fucked up question to ask.”

Suzy gasps, hiding the sound behind her coffee cup. Hongjoong looks surprised himself, but Seungcheol is pleased to hear your voice. He’s only ever tried to make small talk with you while he’s filled out your slips after every session, but you’ve never given him any room to work with. Until now. “Why do you say that?”

“Because…” you ponder the answer, the coherent reasoning jumbled amongst your impulsive thoughts. “It’s a bit unfair. Sure, maybe he’s not the same husband and father he used to be, but what does anyone expect? His oldest kid dies, and he’s supposed to shelve that for the sake of others?”

“Nobody’s asking that of him,” Seungcheol responds. “I asked if it serves anyone for him to hold onto negative emotions.”

“Whether it does or doesn’t, big fucking whoop. Grief doesn’t serve anyone with anything purposeful. It’s all bullshit pain we’re supposed to make better somehow in just the right amount of time or else. Otherwise, everyone has to tread around it like it’s a disease. It’s exhausting.”

You barely registered Wonwoo’s presence in the room, but his messy mop of waves concealed in a beanie adds a second layer of pain to your words. You’ve evaded his texts and calls for the past two days. Avoiding work yesterday didn’t help the way you thought it did, Wooyoung texting you profusely with secondhand messages you didn't want to be reminded of.

It was better this way. You repeated the words to yourself like a mantra when the first batch of Wonwoo’s messages appeared on your lock screen. But seeing him now, you know it was a lie.

Heartbreak, like grief, lacks a purpose beyond the demand to be felt.

Wonwoo clears his throat. He tries to pose the question to the entire group, but he stares so deeply into your eyes when he says it, everyone knows it’s only for your ears to cling to. “Have you ever considered that the reason you think it serves no purpose is because you don’t let anyone in to help you make sense of it?”

Your bottom lip quivers despite your urge to compress your feelings, the anger that was simmering in your stomach now at a rolling boil. You kick the chair from under your legs as you leave the circle, cursing the entire time. You hear Seungcheol request a ten-minute recess for the session, and you know without a doubt the walking slogan is following you.

You keep your focus on the brick wall of the bakery that shares a back alley with the church when Seungcheol finally makes it outside. “Don’t say—”

“I’m just out for a smoke. Was needing a break anyway.” Seungcheol flicks his lighter to life and has a cigarette between his lips in the next second. A huge plume of smoke leaves his lips, and the acrid smell of smoke hits your nose, but you don’t turn from it. He reaches into his pack and hands you one once he lights it.

You chuckle sadly as you weigh the cigarette between your fingers. “How did you know I used to smoke?”

“You suck in a breath when you get angry, and your hands shake like you’re going through withdrawal. That used to happen to me when I tried quitting the first time.”

You nod. “I haven’t really done it in a while. Haven’t had the energy to go buy anything besides frozen meals and water.”

The silence between you both is deafening. Seungcheol doesn’t pry, although that’s his very job, to help you face your emotions head-on, and you don’t elaborate on your points from earlier in the group session.

“My wife died five years ago,” he finally says. He flicks the cigarette at his feet, digging the ashes into the surrounding dirt with his foot. “Was a drunk driver on the way home coming back from a restaurant. I was driving.”

You try to respond, but no words come. The lining of your throat kills them all before they can leave you, like butterfly wings that never unfurl. He goes on amidst your silence. “It took a long time to realize it wasn’t my fault, just terrible timing.”

You turn to look at him, but he keeps his attention on the shops and sidewalks surrounding the church, cold air leaving his mouth in grey clouds. “I’m sorry,” you say, the two words with no serrated edges this time, the anger from your voice gone.

“‘S nothing for you to apologize for. You didn’t know, and I don’t talk about it all that much.” He gives you a knowing stare with the shrug of his shoulders, no bitterness in his expression as he explains without words that you’re more alike than you would’ve known. You can’t imagine the guy having a bitter bone in his body, even if he has reason to. “But that’s why I started this. Going on about it may not help all the time, but I can let some of it go when I know I’m not alone, even if that feeling only lasts for a minute.”

“Are you saying that I have to explain why I’m like this with everyone to feel better? That’s your nugget of wisdom?”

Seungcheol's eyes turn solemn, disappointed but not surprised at your rhetorical questions. “What I’m saying is that pain isn’t avoidable. You know that better than anyone by now. And locking yourself away clearly isn’t working.”

You fight back the tears passing through your eyelashes and puff again. “I don’t need your backdoor psychology, Choi. Even if you and everyone in that group has more than some idea of what I’m going through, it’s not the same.”

Seungcheol chuckles without humor as he hands you another cigarette, his fingertips lingering over your palm in a familial way. His touch is warm despite the winter weather, the contact a salve over the cracks that have formed in the past few days, and it makes you feel worse somehow. “Whether you push people away or not, your capacity to hurt isn’t going anywhere. Wasting time you’ll never get back by being alone does nobody any good, especially yourself.”

“I don’t do anything for anyone like this,” you respond, words breaking. Your hands shake as you take two more drags, smoke filling your lungs as the shadows continue looming. “I can’t give any parts of me when I don’t know what’s left to give at this point.”

“Speaking from my experiences with you—which I know are limited—I’d say you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Seungcheol plucks the cigarette from your hands once you make it to the end. “And I bet your little friend would say the same thing, if not more.”

Like the call of a siren song, Wonwoo comes through the back door of the church, a bit embarrassed to intrude, but relieved to find you before you left. It’s all over the sudden sag of his chest and the downturn of his eyes.

Seungcheol smirks to himself while he puts his pack back in his coat pocket. “Speaking of the devil, I’ll leave you to it.” He pats Wonwoo on the shoulder as he makes it to the door of the church. The closing of the back door punctuates the silence between you.

“Are you finally gonna talk to me?” Wonwoo asks, his voice teetering on desperation and indignation. He doesn’t want to be angry, you can tell, but it all comes out in the crinkle of his eyes and the line of his lips.

You don’t blame him, either. You’re the one who left him as soon as you woke up, no verbal or written explanation left behind to keep him from assuming the worst. “What do you expect me to say, Won? I don’t—”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I want from you. I’ve been clear about that since the first day we saw each other in this fucking church.” You’re taken back by him cursing, the act one you’ve not seen from him often, but he keeps going. “I want to help you. Whether that’s as your friend or something more, I can accept that. But what I can’t accept is you keeping up this act you’ve been putting on.”

“It’s not an act,” you say defensively. “It’s too hard to let anyone in. It may be hard for you to accept, but that’s the truth.”

“You need better practice at lying, sweetheart.” When your face crumbles with defeated confusion, Wonwoo goes on. “If it was so hard, you wouldn’t still have Wooyoung in your life. You wouldn’t have kicked my ass at pool, and you definitely would’ve done a better job at avoiding me. You may not want to admit it now, but you’re using your grief as an excuse to run away from feeling anything else.”

“You don’t know me,” you say, the words an echo that reaches through time with an entirely different meaning.

“I think I do.” His chest is barely an inch from yours, and before you know it, your lips join in a bruising kiss. It’s desperation from the days you spent without each other, almost stitching the time between that night you were in his bed and now together like a crochet tapestry. It’s yearning to be better than how you’ve been, to do better for the man who wants to teach you how to find happiness again.

Most importantly, it’s hope, unadulterated and unembroidered with the promises of what would’ve been. It’s only now, and that’s enough. It would always end this way, you think. Wonwoo holds you so close he may squeeze you into his coat to keep you from running away. A muddled cry escapes you before your lips connect again, your tears wetting the space between your mouths.

When you part, you think you may never let him go again, and this is the penance you’ll pay for the rest of your life for thinking you could ever handle being without him. “Where do we go from here?” you ask with glassy eyes, finding a glimmer of peace in the way Wonwoo holds you close to him with all the gentleness and love in the world.

“We heal.”

ONE MONTH LATER

None of the group members believe it when you offer to go first during the second to last session. You had half a mind to not to, promising Wonwoo you would share on the final meeting day so you wouldn’t have to suffer through another gathering with everyone knowing your story. Wonwoo only held you closer, stilling your trembling body with kisses to the crown of your head and his reassuring words whispered into your hair. “You’re stronger than anyone in that room, and it’s time you prove it.” You love him for that, among the plethora of a million other things, but that’s another conversation for another time and for only the two of you to share.

Suzy, Hongjoong, and the rest of the group follow you with understanding eyes, a response you used to dread. But now, you accept it just to get by. Seungcheol stares with immeasurable pride behind his eyes as you clear your throat.

“My dad passed away a year ago now,” you start, hands shaking but firm against the plastic coffee cup. “It was sudden, so sudden when the call came I didn’t believe it. I called the cop that told me about the accident a liar, like it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t happen to me, and not to him. Not yet, anyway.”

“You always think that you have more time to spend with someone, to tell them all the things you didn’t have the courage to say to them when they were still around. And that’s how I felt about him and our relationship, like I’d have a lot more moments to fix what I needed to for the two of us, and for myself. Maybe I never would’ve been ready, anyway, but—I couldn’t accept that all those chances, all those opportunities, were gone when he was, too. Most of the time, I still don’t. It doesn’t feel real, like it’s this thick fog I’m under that’ll eventually clear.

“And that’s why I’m here with you guys. And maybe talking about it now can help me to get through it the right way.”

You don’t look up from the floor as you continue, but Wonwoo’s hand on your thigh and Seungcheol’s leading questions ground you through it all. The tears flow, and the words leave your lips with all of their broken seams. Each thread of your heart unwinds, the experience equal parts freeing and devastating in the release.

Whoever the creator of the slogan from that third week of the support group is—Seungcheol, a random stranger, or a prophetic person who knows all too well the tragedy of grief itself—you’re growing to believe time can bend every sad emotion into something manageable, especially grief. And yes, you have yet to see what your own grief ultimately turns into, but you know you’ll take comfort in the fact you won’t be alone when that day comes.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @innocygnet @ghstzzn @xylatox @bambiihee @prkhaven @lunarlaina @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @okiedokrie-main @chanranghaeys @brownbunnyb @lovetaroandtaemin @livelaughloveseventeen @aaa-sia

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @pirateeznet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you. 

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[vmiina]

autumn leaves

summary dean finally found peace with the woman of his dreams and their newborn baby girl, believing that he has escaped the supernatural life. but fate is cruel.

warnings angst very little fluff dean does not catch a break GRIEF major character death very mild descriptions of violence dean being the best girldad ever (this is dedicated to the bitches with daddy issues) unfortunately has a couple timeskips

notes based on the song autumn leaves by bts, most of my fics are made with a song in mind but this one deserves a honorable mention !! this song has been going triple platinum with me for the last few years, genuinely one of the most beautiful songs i’ve ever heard. glazing? never heard of that !!. also i do apologize for this fic before anyone even reads it. do not like seeing you guys, or dean winchester happy (that’s a joke)

dean thought he had finally found the peace he has spent a lifetime searching for. after years of hunting, the bloodshed, the loss, and the endless pain, he had settled down with you— the woman who had given him a sense of calm he never thought he could have. the love he felt for you, the way you understood him when no one else could, gave him so much hope. together, you decided to start your own little family, to create a future that didn’t involve the never-ending cycle of monsters and death.

you were pregnant when autumn came, the trees turning shades of gold and red as the world seemed to reflect the new life growing inside you. it felt like a new chapter was unfolding, one where the nightmares of the past could be put to rest. dean spent the next weeks fixing up the house, getting it ready for your baby, feeling more grounded than he had ever before.

then— the best moment of both of your lives’ happened, your baby was born. a little girl with your eyes and dean’s smile. dean could hardly believe how perfect she was, how she completed the family you’d always dreamt of. he spent every moment doting on her, watching her grow with a sense of joy and pride that was foreign to him.

you had been talking about names for months, but the moment dean held her for the first time, he just knew. “layla.” he had said, the name slipping from his lips like it had always belonged to her. and for the first time in his life, he thought that maybe he could have it all. a little family, a home, the whole apple pie life.

but fate— as it always does, had other plans.

one cold evening, as the leaves outside swirl in the wind, an old enemy from dean’s past resurfaced, a demon—one he thought had been vanquished years ago—had come back, angrier and more powerful than before. the first sign that something was wrong when the lights flickered, the house growing unnaturally cold. dean’s instincts kicked in, he knew something was off. but before he could react, the door slammed open, and the demon appeared.

dean immediately rushed to protect you, but the demon was too powerful. it spoke in a voice that chilled him to the bone, a voice dripping with venom and rage. it wanted revenge for something dean had done in the past, and it was not going to stop until it tore everything from him. the creature was relentless, overpowering him, and in the chaos, the last thing he saw was you stepping in front of him, trying to protect him and layla.

“run!” you screamed, voice shaking. “take her and run, dean! please!”

dean tried to fight back, to reach you, but the demon was too fast. in a heartbeat, it lunged and the world seemed to freeze. dean saw you falling the ground, the life draining from your eyes, before the demon turned its focus on him. the demon’s laughter echoed in the room as it vanished, leaving nothing but a deafening silence. dean collapsed to his knees beside you, his hand reaching for your still form.

“no— no please,” he whispered, voice breaking. “not you. not now. i can’t— i can’t do this without you.”

but you were gone. his heart shattered as he had you in his arms, the warmth of your body slowly slipping away. your little girl was crying from the nursery, but dean couldn’t move. he couldn’t breathe. the life he had fought so hard for, the future he’d finally gotten, had been ripped from him in a blink of an eye. when he finally gathered the strength to move, he found his daughter, the tiny girl he had promised to protect, innocent face scrunched up in fear. layla had no idea what had just happened, why her mom would not be around anymore, why the world just collapsed around her.

dean took her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest, the sound of her crying tugging at dean’s heartstrings. “i’m so sorry,” he whispered to layla, feeling like he had already failed her. the world had become an incredibly cruel place, and he was now the only one left to fight for her.

as the leaves continued to fall outside, the final moments of your life seemed to linger in the air, a harsh reminder of how quickly everything could get taken away. dean didn’t know how to move on. how to face another day without you. how to raise your daughter alone, when he had always relied on you to balance him, to help him see the light even in the darkest moments. but now, all he had was her. the only piece of you left in the world. and as he rocked her to sleep, dean whispered a promise— a vow to keep her safe, no matter the cost. the price of love in his world has always been too high, but he would fight for her, because that’s all he had left.

the days that followed felt like a blur— like time had lost all meaning. the house was too quiet, too empty without you. dean moved through it like a ghost, going through the motions only because he had to. he had a daughter now. your daughter. the only piece of you still here, still breathing. he had no choice but to keep going.

god it hurt.

the nights were the worst. the weight of the silence pressed down on him like a vice, squeezing the breath from his lungs. he would find himself reaching for you in bed, only to be met with the cold, empty space where you should have been. his arms ached to hold you, his fingers desperate to brush against your skin, to tangle in your hair. but you were gone.

and in the next room, layla stirred, her small cries cutting through the silence.

dean forced himself up, dragging his exhausted body to where the crib where she is, tiny and fragile and completely unaware of the hole that had been ripped through his heart. he scooped her up, holding her close against his chest, whispering soft, broken words. “hey sweetie,” his voice cracked as he rocked her gently, trying to calm her. “it’s okay— i got you, i got you.” he didn’t, he didn’t have anything.

dean winchester had faced monsters, demons, and the literal end of the world. he had fought many battles no man should have survived. and yet, standing here, holding the daughter her mother would never get to know, he had never felt so lost.

days turned into weeks. he tried— he really did. he changed diapers, warmed bottles, learned how to hold her just right to get her to stop crying. but nothing calmed the constant ache in his chest. everytime she looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes, all he saw was you. and it broke him all over again. he barely slept, barely ate. the grief clawed at him like an open wound that refused to heal. and in the quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, he wondered if fate had been planning this all along. letting dean believe he could finally have happiness, just so it could be taken right away from him.

one night, as the wind howled outside, rattling the windows, dean sat in the rocking chair by the crib, staring blankly ahead. layla had finally drifted off, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. the weight of her against his chest was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

he swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to her soft hair. “i dunno what the hell i’m doin’ kid,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “but i swear to you, i’m gonna figure it out. i have to.”

because he had made a promise. to you. to her. and no matter how much it hurt, no matter how broken he was, he would keep it.

dean never knew how much one little human could talk until layla started stringing full sentences together.

at five years old, she was a force of nature— bright, curious, and full of boundless energy that he often struggled to keep up with. she had your eyes, that same spark of mischief and wonder, and everytime she smiled at him, it was like he was staring right at you as a child. it was the most beautiful and the most painful thing ever.

“daddy, why do cows say ‘moo’?” she asked one morning, swinging her legs back and forth as she sat at the kitchen table, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of her.

dean rubbed a hand over his tired face, still groggy from another late night. “uhh… ‘cause that’s just what they do, baby.”

she hummed, seemingly considering his answer, then tilting her head. “but why?”

dean sighed. “i dunno, layla. why do you ask so many questions?”

she grinned at him, cheeky as ever. “'cause i wanna know stuff!”

dean chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of his coffee. he never got tired of her endless curiosity, even if it exhausted him most of the time.

then came the question that made his heart stop.

“daddy… what was mommy like?”

he froze, the coffee cup halfway to his lips. his grip tightening just slightly, and he forced himself to breathe. he should’ve known this was coming. it wasn’t the first time she asked about you, but it still hit like a punch to the gut every single time. dean set his mug down and looked at her, his little girl watching him expectantly, her big, eager eyes waiting for an answer. he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“she was amazing,” he said, voice quieter than before. “the best person i ever knew.”

layla’s face lit up. “really?” dean nodded, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “yeah, sweetie. she was kind, and smart, and she was the most beautiful woman ever. just like you.”

“did she like pancakes?” she asked with an innocent smile that had him melting. dean huffed a laugh. “yeah, she did. especially when i made ‘em.” she furrows her brows at his words, not quite believing them.

“but daddy— you always burn pancakes!” she huffs out, crossing her arms.

“hey—” he said, feigning offense. “i’ll have you know that i’ve gotten better missy.”

layla laughed, and for a moment, the conversation felt light, warm— something dean could handle. but then, as kids do, she hit him with another question, this time one that sent a chill down his spine.

“why isn’t she here?”

dean’s chest tightened, he set his coffee aside and ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. he hated this part. hated that he had to tell her why you’re not here, why layla would only ever know you through stories and pictures. he looked at her, his little girl who deserved to have both her parents, and felt the familiar ache in his heart. “mommy…” he exhaled slowly, searching for words a five year old could understand. “she had to go away.”

layla’s brows furrowed again. “where..? why?” dean doesn’t know how long he can keep on answering these questions, but he’ll try, and he can’t blame her, she’s just a kid.

“someplace… far, and because she wanted to keep you safe,” he manages to murmur, his throat feeling tight. layla stared at him for a moment, as if trying to make sense of his answer. then in a quiet voice, she asked. “did she not want to stay with us?”

dean’s breath hitched. “baby, no,” he said, voice breaking just slightly. he reached across the table, taking her small hand in his. “mommy loved you more than anythin’ in the whole world. she didn’t wanna leave. she just… didn’t have a choice.”

layla’s lower lip wobbled. “i miss mommy.” she whimpers, looking down at her little feet. dean closed his eyes for a brief second, willing himself to keep it together for his little girl. when he opened them, he pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “i know,” he whispered. “i miss her too.” layla curled into his chest, her small arms wrapping around his neck. “is she watching us?”

dean’s eyes burned. he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears he refuses to show her away. he presses his chin firmly to the top of her head. “yeah,” he murmured. “she’s watchin’ and she’s real proud of you.”

a moment later, her expression shifted, her usual curiosity returning. “daddy?” she softly says, tugging at the collar of his shirt. dean lets out a soft hum, wanting to hear what the little girl has to say now. “do you think mommy would like my drawings?”

dean chuckled, relieved by the sudden change in subject. “she’d love ‘em,” he said, ruffling her hair. “especially the ones where you make me look like a potato.”

layla burst into laughter. “that’s ‘cause sometimes you look like a potato!”

dean gasped dramatically. “that’s it, you’re gettin' it now.” layla shrieked with giggles as he adjusted his grip on her, tickling her until she was breathless with laughter. for a moment, just a moment, the weight in his chest lifted. the grief, the pain, the emptiness—it was all still there, lingering beneath the surface, but layla’s laughter was louder, brighter, stronger.

and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

as the golden leaves drifted past the kitchen window, dean held his daughter close, silently vowing—as he always did—to keep going. for her. for you. for the family he had left.

layla was no longer the little girl clung to dean’s hand and begged for bedtime stories. she was too grown up, and though she had your eyes, she wore them with a hardness that dean could barely recognize.

she was angry. at him, at the world, at everything. dean had tried to keep her safe, to protect her from the truth of her mother’s death, to shield her from the supernatural world that had once taken everything from him. but now, with each passing day, layla only pushed him further away.

it had been a long week of arguments. ever since she started high school, layla had been more distant, more independent. she came home late, snuck out whenever she could, and when she was home, she spent most of the time holed up in her room, listening to music that dean did not understand. he had tried talking to her, tried to keep the bond between them strong but she only shut him out.

tonight, something snapped.

“i’m not a kid anymore!” layla shouted, slamming the door behind her shut as she stormed into the living room. dean barely looked up from his beer when she started in on him, her face flushed red. “you can’t keep treatin’ me like one! i don’t need you to follow me around and tell me what i can and can’t do!” dean stood up slowly, fighting the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for weeks now. he did not want to fight, but his patience was wearing thin, and his body was weak from the constant strain of his past. he had never really given himself time to rest. he couldn’t.

“baby, this is about more than just going out late. i’m just tryin’ to keep you safe— i don’t want you out of the house this late, not with everythin' goin' on.“

her face hardened, the air in the room seemed to thicken with tension. “everythin' goin' on? what does that even mean, dad? you’re just using that excuse again, i’m not a kid anymore, you can’t control me!”

“it’s not about control, it’s about keepin' you safe. you don’t know what’s out there— what could happen—“ he says calmly, his tired eyes meeting his daughters.

“keep me safe from what?!” layla stepped closer, her voice rising, fists clenched at her sides. “you think i dunno what’s out there? i grew up with you! i’ve seen the blood, the pain. i’ve seen how you’ve shut down, how you’ve been miserable since mom—“

the words hung heavy in the air like a sharp blade, cutting through dean like nothing else. he flinched, the rawness of her voice piercing deeper than he ever expected. she was angry, sure, but in that moment it was not just anger. she was hurt, and it was aimed straight at him.

“don’t you dare—“

but layla was not done. “don’t you dare tell me i dunno what you’ve been through, or what’s out there. because i do, dad. you think i haven’t seen how it destroyed you? how it ruined everythin'? you’re just holdin' me back because you’re scared— scared that i’ll end up like her, that i’ll get taken from you too. well guess what? i’m not mom! i’m not her, okay?”

dean felt as though the air had been ripped straight from his lungs. her words hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him stunned and speechless. he stood frozen, trying to process his daughters words, the way they felt like the past he couldn’t escape, the past he was trying to outrun. it felt like the air in the room had closed in around him, the words echoing in his mind as his chest tightened. he sees so much of you in her— your eyes, your warmth, pieces of your personality. everytime he looked at her, he saw you. it had been one reason he kept going, the one thing that made his life feel slightly more bearable.

but now she was throwing it back in his face. she was not you. she was not that girl who would do anything to protect him, who would hold him together when he was on the brink of falling apart. she wasn’t that innocent child anymore, and she did not want to be reminded of what had been lost.

dean blinked, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog that was clouding his mind. he opened his mouth to speak, to tell her everything, to explain that he was only trying to protect her. but no words came out. his throat felt dry, his heart thumping in his chest as he watched layla’s figure fade out of the house, into the night, her anger and pain still hanging in the air like a thick mist.

she was right, in a way. she was not you. she was not the girl who would do anything to protect him, the girl who would hold him together when he was on the brink of falling apart. and dean knew that. he’d failed her, he knew he had. but all he ever wanted was to keep her safe, even if it meant pushing her away. and now he could not stop the fear that gripped him. that same fear that had haunted him since you were taken. and now it was creeping up on him again. the world was not done with him, and it was just starting with layla.

he stood frozen for a moment, the silence of the house, pressing in on him. he tried to shake it off. “layla,” he muttered under his breath, moving quickly toward the door. “layla don’t go out there. it’s not safe, layla!” but it was too late, the door had already slammed shut behind her, and she was gone into the dark night. dean cursed under his breath, his pulse racing as he ran after her. he pushed past the front door, not even bothering to close it behind him, his eyes scanning the yard, the street. she was out there, somewhere, and he could already feel it. the same presence he had felt when she was younger. the cold chill going through him signaling that something was terribly wrong.

he called his daughter’s name again, but the only response was the wind rustling through the trees and the distant hum of city lights. the silence was killing him.

then, he felt it. a sharp pain in his chest. something was coming for them— for her.

his breath hitched as a dark shadow appeared in front of him, the air around him growing unbearably cold. dean’s defenses rising up, his hand already reaching for the gun he still keeps at his side, but his limbs felt heavier than usual. there was something wrong with him. he had been worn down, physically, emotionally. and now, he was not sure if he could even fight back. a dark figure materialized before him. it was the same demon that had killed you, the one that had haunted him for years, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike again. it still was not here to kill him, at least not physically, it is here to tear his life apart.

“you thought you could hide from me, winchester,” the demon sneered, its voice guttural, dripping with malice. “you thought you could run and bury your pain. but you can’t. it’s never gone. you and your precious daughter are mine. always have been.”

dean’s breath quickened. he could feel the weight of the demon’s words in his gut, in his bones. but he couldn’t move. not like this. not in the state he was in. his body giving out on him. “no,” dean gritted out, pulling the gun from his waistband. his hand shook as he aimed it at the demon. “not again.”

“you can try, but it won’t matter. she’ll be just like her mother.”

before dean could even react, the demon vanished, and in its place, the air grew colder still. a familiar, hollow silence fell over the street. dean’s heart hammered in his chest, his eyes darting around in fear, desperate to find layla. he took a few steps forward, calling her name, voice as loud as he could get it. “layla!” but his words were lost in the night. and then, he heard it.

a scream.

one so desperate and raw that it stopped dean in his tracks. his heart dropped to his stomach as he ran toward the sound. the closer he got, the more his chest constricted, the more the world around him seemed to close in. when he finally reached the alleyway a couple blocks away, he stopped dead in his tracks. layla was there, her back pressed against the brick wall, her eyes wide with terror. she was shaking, her hand gripping her chest as if trying to hold herself together, but blood was slowly spilling from a wound— the same wound that had taken you. a deep, gaping hole in her chest, just like that he had seen all those years ago.

dean’s breath caught in his throat as he dropped to his knees beside her. “no! layla, please—” he practically yells out, voice cracking as his hands reach out.

“dad…” layla’s voice was barely audible, a whisper carried on the wind. ”i’m sorry, i’m sorry— i didn’t… i didn’t mean what i said.”

dean’s hands shook as he pulled his daughter into his arms, cradling her tightly to his body. “i know baby, i know. it’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers against her head, pressing a gentle kiss there. he could feel her body growing colder, her pulse slowing. “layla, please… stay with me, baby. i need you. don’t leave me— please, please don’t leave me.” but she didn’t respond, her breaths labored, shallow. the life in her was slipping away, just like her mothers had. dean’s vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes. the same helplessness he had felt when you were taken crashed over him, drowning him in an ocean of grief he had never truly recovered from.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “don’t go, please. you’re all i have left— you’re my world, layla.” her breaths quieting, the life fading from her eyes. her body falling limp in his grip.

dean didn’t remember screaming, but his throat was raw, burning with agony of a loss too great for anyone to bear. he held layla’s cold body against his chest, his hands gripping her too tightly, as if sheer will could keep her there, keep her from slipping away completely. but she was already gone. his baby girl. his layla. his world.

the night around him was too still, too quiet, as if the universe itself was mocking him, watching as he broke apart all over again. his tears dripped onto her blood-stained shirt, and his mind flashed back— his daughter at five years old, making dean play with her dolls. his daughter at ten years old, stubborn but sweet, sneaking into his rooms during thunderstorms because she was too proud to admit she was scared. his daughter at thirteen years old, rolling her eyes at his dad jokes and cringing, but laughing anyway. and now, she was gone.

his chest burned with something raw and ugly. grief. guilt. rage.

this was his fault.

he should have stopped her, should have forced her to stay inside, should have done something.

she had been angry. she had been hurting. and now, the last thing she would ever remember was their fight. the way she had yelled at him. the way she had thrown your death in his face like it was a weapon, cutting him open right before she was taken away from him too. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “i’m so sorry, baby. i should’ve protected you. i should’ve kept you safe. i should’ve—“ but the words didn’t matter, nothing did anymore.

his entire world is gone, first you, now her. and for the first time in decades, he had no reason to keep fighting.

[athenaluciscaelum]

Her Wedding Ring – PART 1 OF 2 PARTS

Pairing: DMC 4 Dante x Fem! Reader

Rated: General

Words: 4689 words

Warning: Death, Gore, Angst

Note: The time travelling is in the second part, please wait and I hope you like it. Feel free to leave a comment, I encourage it. 🙈🙈🙈

LETS ROCK!!

A normal day at Devil May Cry; everything was 'normal'. Dante came back early in the morning; it was 05:00AM. The office was dark, with a 'Devil May Cry' neon sign flickering over the mini bar; the place felt calm and peaceful. Morrison was sitting on the red leather couch asleep. His hat covering his face, Dante was tired; he was exhausted, but he was calm now that he was home.

Home, it took a lot for this place to become 'home'. He looked at the portrait of two of his favourite ladies on the desk, taking in their beautiful faces. He sighed as he walked over to Morrison and nudged his sleepy body. Morrison was sitting on the leather couch, his legs spread wide and arms crossed over his chest; at Dante's nudge, he jolted and woke up, holding his hand.

He looked up at Dante and nodded, "Ohho...it's you?" Dante smirked, "Everything good? I hope twins were not a handful..." Morrison shook his head, "They were as splendid as six-year-olds could be. They were asleep when I came, and they are still sleeping..."

Dante smiled. "Thank you...Morrison...and the job is done; you can contact the client and get the payment." Morrison yawned and stretched. "Hope you didn't do much collateral damage..." Dante shook his head as he headed to shower, "Naah ....good on that, Morrison …"

By the time Dante came back wearing his wine-red sweatpants and towel around his neck, Morrison was gone. Dante dries his hair with a towel, his wet locks decorating his smooth and handsome face.

Dante runs his hand across his jaw and neck; he has to shave, he thought. But... you always loved it so much... does it matter now?

Dante sighed and made his way upstairs; on the left was the twins' room. It used to be their nursery, but now it was their room. Two beds on either side of the room and a shared big drawer in the middle. There was a sky and stars painted on the ceiling by you back when you were pregnant with them. And the wall has all sorts of pastel colours with the twins' drawings decorating them.

Dante entered the room. He was being soft and gentle as he leaned against the small bed; Eva, the eldest twin, was sleeping on her stomach just like her mother, holding onto the plushie you made for both twins when they were still in your belly. His DT plushie in the chibi version. It was Eva's favourite toy. Dante sighed as he ran his thick fingers through her soft white hair. Her hair was long, and she had soft curls. Twins were a lot like Dante, but they had your eyes. Those eyes which he loved so much. Eva curled up and opened her eyes a little; she spoke softly and sleepily, "Daddy?" Dante smiled and patted her little head, "Sleep, my little angel."

Eva was a lot like you; she was calm, soft and sweet. Dante looked on the other side of the room. He sat on the floor, taking in the younger twin. Vittalis also had white hair and your eyes. Though his resemblance to Dante was uncanny, given the fact that he kept his hair like Dante's, poker straight and in front of his face. Dante smiled, running his hand through Vittali's hair. He took a mental note that he has to take him for a haircut since Eva has made it clear that she won't cut her hair. She wants to have long princess hair.

Once Dante made sure both of the twins were fine. He made his way back downstairs to the couch. Not his and your room. He never liked sleeping in that room ever again. Not since the day you left. It felt so empty; it squeezed his heart and made him feel the pain and anguish he cannot bear, nor describe or convey.

Dante lies down on the couch, his hand behind his head and legs hanging off the couch. He quickly fell asleep due to exhaustion; being a single father to twins and the legendary demon hunter was a tough job.

It was the weekend. Dante felt a soft weight on his abdomen. He opened his icy blue eyes to see a happy Eva sitting on his stomach, her little hands clapping on his chest. He looked down, and Vittalis was standing in front of his face. He blinked at Dante; he was always the quiet one.

Eva was cheerful and grinned, "Daddy! Hungry!" Dante sat up, pulling Eva in his lap and scooping Vittalis in his arms as well. Vittalis smiled as Dante nuzzled the top of his head. Dante sighed, "Just give me a few minutes; Dad came back from a mission late last night. We will be going to Freddy's, okay? Can you both wait?"

The twins nodded in unison. They were quite self-sufficient. They were only six but were able to keep their things in order, get dressed, and even pack their own bags. All those little things that made Dante worry a lot less. Eva was packing her bags with crayons, her drawing book, her DT plushie, wooden sword and dart gun. While Vittalis stuffed his with his wooden sword, book, dart gun and wooden shield.

Dante came back wearing his gear and putting his guns in a holster, while his sword was in a guitar bar. Vittalis was wearing a white shirt and black shorts with high socks and black boots. Dante checked Vittalis's sock and boots; Eva was wearing her white shirt and pastel pink pullover with stockings and her training shoes. Dante made sure each of their shoelaces was tied properly. He held onto one of each twin's hand.

Dante smiled, "Let's go!"

As the bell chimed announcing the entry of Devil Hunter and his adorable twins, Cindy was already rolling to them with menus for both twins. She already knew what Dante would have. But twins were up to trying new things every now and then.

Cindy leaned in, "So how are you both?" Eva was looking around to spot Freddy, who was in the pantry. She asks, looking innocently at Cindy, "Where is Freddy?" Cindy smiled, "Ohho, he is in the pantry..." Vittalis looked at Cindy smiling, "We both are good; how are you, Cindy?" Cindy found those two so adorable. "I'm good...better after seeing you both..." Eva and Vittalis giggled. Freddy walked behind the bar putting his apron on, and Eva grinned wide and spoke cheerfully, "Freddy!" Freddy smiled, "Good day, Eva...Vittalis… What are you both having today?" Vittalis was looking at the menu seriously. "I'm thinking...." Eva picked up the menu herself. "Just a minute!"

Dante smiled, ruffling Eva's hair, who was sitting beside her, and Vittalis was sitting against him in the booth.

Freddy smiled; he and Cindy knew that Dante was doing best as a single father. Dante looked at Freddy. "You know what I will have...." Eva's ears perked up. "Can I have it too...?" Cindy smiled, "Yes, you can, Eva...but you're a baby; you should have something like a big meal in the morning first." Vittalis nodded, "I will have French toast and eggs!" Eva quickly scanned the menu herself, "Ummm....I will have pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries!"

Cindy nodded, "Got it..." Dante smiled, "Just add in two glasses of orange juice..." Cindy gave a thumbs up; she knew twins had Dante's appetite, and unlike Dante, they were not at all picky eaters.

Cindy came back rolling with food. She started to put them down, "Pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries for Eva...we can't forget the orange juice requested by Dad." Eva smiled, she was drooling. Cindy poked her cheeks; she looked at Vittalis, "Ummm...French toast and eggs for Vittalis...also a tall glass of orange juice." Vittalis smiled. "Thanks, Cindy and Freddy!" Cindy looked at Dante with a smile, "And strawberry sundae for the best dad!" Dante just smiled. He was happy just to see twins happy and healthy. All he can see is you when he looks at them.

Eva took a forkful of pancake and stuffed it in her mouth, smearing whipped cream around her mouth. She hummed, "So tasty, Freddy!" Freddy's heart was overloaded with cuteness. Vittalis ate his cutting it perfectly with knife and fork, taking a proper bite, and nodded, "Eggs are perfect... I like toast as well...thanks, Freddy…" Freddy looked at Dante, who was hogging his strawberry sundae; he just shrugged. "Yeah...it's good…" Freddy just sighed.

Eva gave a strawberry covered with whipped cream to Dante, standing up on her seat to put it near Dante's mouth. "Daddy, try it; you like strawberries." Dante's heart melted as he took it and hummed, "So good...Eva...thank you...you're such a good girl...but eat your strawberries; Daddy got a lot for himself in his sundae." Eva giggled. Vittalis felt jealous and climbed up on the table, holding a piece of his French toast on a fork and putting it near Dante's mouth, "Father...try this as well..." Dante smiled; he could see Vergil in Vittalis when he acted so maturely and called him father; he was also reading so many books these days. Dante nodded, "Sure, son..." He ruffled Vittali's hair, "Such a good boy..." Vittalis hid his blush and retreated back in his seat.

After brunch, Eva and Vittalis walked to the park with Dante. It was quite a routine on their weekend, unless Dante had a pressing job like a demon king being summoned, which Trish and Lady couldn't handle. He won't ever skip Sunday rituals.

Eva was holding his right hand, swinging it. "Daddy...I got straight A's!" Dante smiled; he was proud of his two intelligent children. "That's great, Eva, and what about you, Vittalis?" Vittalis sighed, "Straight A's, but... I'm bored."

Dante understood that school could be slow and boring for them. But it was a better place; he didn't trust himself with homeschooling them, and kids at school gave him some time and peace, which he needed.

Dante was lying on a grass while Eva and Vittalis were training with wooden swords; they were strong, agile and full of energy. Eva ran at Vittalis and jumped mere inches away to get behind him and strike him from the back. Vittalis was quick to turn and block her attack. Their swords pushing against each other as they put in all their strength. Eva looked down and ducked to swipe her leg and disbalance Vittalis; he fell back. Before he could stand up, Eva was already on him... the tip of her sword on his throat. Vittalis sighed; Eva just smiled and gave him her hand to stand back up. Dante's eyes were closed, but his demonic hearing picked it all up.

Eva and Vittalis, after sparsing a bit more, came back to where Dante was napping on the grass. Dante sat up yawning and stretching his muscles. As he stood up, Vittalis ran at him and jumped to attack him; Dante easily held his arm and smirked. It was when Dante felt Eva so close to the back of his head and quickly got a hold of her. He has to admit that he nearly didn't notice. He can see these two were getting good; he has to get a little serious with their training now. After a long hour of failed attempts to land a hit on their father. He can see both kids were tired. In no time they were both asleep in his lap; he scooped them both in each arm as he walked back home.

In the evening, twins were on his desk drawing and eating their snacks of fruits, trail mix and a few candies. Dante was behind Eva's chair brushing her hair and braiding it, as taught by Lucia.

Eva sipped her water from her sipper and jumped out of her chair to bring her bag over. She pulled out her art supplies. The twins were sitting on either side of Dante's desk. Dante took his seat on his chair behind the desk.

Vittalis was reading, and Eva started to draw Dante's gun on the table. She was very mechanical in her drawing, her motor skills, vision and grip better than the average human being already. She saw how Dante's hand rested on the gun idly and was drawing it as well. Dante knew he got Ivy League kids; after all, everything you made was so perfect. Your kids were no exception. Vittalis was reading Frankenstein. Dante wasn't sure if it was the right book for a six-year-old or not. But he can read in this age, so who is he to judge?

Eva looked at Dante's left hand ring finger and the silver ring on it. Then she looked at her mother's portrait on the desk, beside her grandmother's portrait. She thought and then spoke, "Daddy..." Dante hummed as he caressed the top of Eva's head, "Yes, baby..." Eva blinked those beautiful eyes you gave her, but her eyes were just so big and doe. She spoke calmly, "Where is Mama's wedding ring?" Dante spoke without thinking, "Oh, your mother's rings...it's in..." Dante stopped, he frowned and he froze. Vittalis noticed the rainbows of emotions on Dante's face and spoke a little disappointedly, "Did you misplace Mama's wedding ring...Father?" Eva was shocked and gasped, "What!?"

Dante tries to calm them both, "Hey, you two...no...no...of course not! I know...it's with me!"

Eva spoke flatly, "Where?" Dante laughed, trying to mask his concern. "It's with me..." Vittalis asked again, "Where?" Dante tries to brush it off, "Close to my heart..." Vittalis sighed, "Seriously, Father..." Eva sighed as well, her head on the table, "Daddy lost Mama's ring...." Eva fake cries, "Ohhho no...ummm..."

Dante tries to assure them, speaking seriously, "You both need to trust me more; I have it...just give me time till tomorrow morning?"

Eva and Vittalis looked at each other and nodded. Vittalis spoke like he was striking a bargain, "Fine… But you only have till tomorrow morning... We shall see the ring…" Eva nodded to emphasise with her arms crossed on her chest, "Hmm!"

Dante sighed. He let Eva go back to drawing and Vittalis go back to reading. After dinner, he puts them both to sleep, telling them their favourite story of Sparda. Vittalis was quick to fall asleep. Eva waited till Sparda found Eva, making her giggle, "That's my name!"

Dante kisses her forehead, tucking her in. "Right, sweetheart...now sleep..." Eva closed her eyes; Dante kissed Vittalis, who was already asleep, and turned off the lights to close the door.

He had some strong seals and magic in place for the twins' room, just to make sure no demon ever crosses it. It was similar to Sparda's seal between two realms, but on a smaller scale and with fewer elements required. He literally drove Trish to the depths of earth and hell to retain all the knowledge possible. His kids will be different; they have to be. And for that he will be better. He has to better.

Dante was about to go downstairs...but he looked at the room – your and his room. One he ignored like a plague. But he needed to find the ring now. It must be in that room. He entered the room; it felt so dark, cold, and gloomy without you. It lacked the soul, your laugh and your light. He dropped on his knees on the floor at the foot of the bed, his hand running over the sheets of the bed, gripping them, and he inhaled your scent. So little, yet it was here...it was no good for him to stay here.

His demon cried for its fated mate. Dante was trembling as he buried his face in the sheets, little wet spots staining them. He was like that for a solid thirty minutes, his heart beating slow, his mind plagued with your memories, his eyes red. His body trembling...he pulled back and stood up. He walked to the dresser with shaky legs and got on his knees again. The dresser was in that room only for you. It had all the little trinkets you used to decorate yourself with or all the little things he ever gifted you. He got on his knees, pulling the drawer to find the little ring box.

His hands were shaky as he lifted it. It felt so heavy when he opened it; it was a silver ring with a ruby in the middle, so pretty. He took it out of its cushion and kissed it.

His heart was heavy; he was barely able to prevent himself from screaming and wailing. He still remembers the day he had to bury you deep in the ground. The last time he was in this room. He just came back from the funeral. Everyone offered to help him with five-month-old twins. But he refused. You gave him all he ever needed; it was right here. As he sank in his bed after putting sleeping twins in the crib. He could not grip the reality. He was still in a funeral suit; he couldn't believe you were gone. It has to be a joke, a lie, or a bad dream. He will wake up in a minute. You will be in the bed nursing either Eva or Vittalis, since those two little gluttons could never have enough milk. His hands gripped the sheets, tears dripping down his nose as he cried in the dark.

His kids were asleep in a crib, but it was okay. They can witness their vulnerable father, like you witnessed him most vulnerable. You told him they will love him after they know what a wonderful father he is. She can feel it – they love him, the way they cry for him and always want to stay close to him, especially Eva.

Dante gripped your wedding ring in his hand. He wanted to bury it with you. It was yours and no-one else's. But he also remembers you mentioning once that you would love to pass it on to Eva one day. So he held onto it; taking it off your lifeless finger felt like a sin. But this is what you wanted, right?

Dante was jolted back to reality by a crying Eva and Vittalis babbling as he was lying on his stomach. Eva sat up in the crib and was trying to climb the crib to no avail. Dante looked at them and got back to reality. They were crying for their mother; they did not know what they lost. And Dante could not let them feel they lost something, so he got to work.

There was no baby formula in the home initially, since you exclusively breastfed these two gluttons somehow. But Trish was perceptive enough to stock home with cans as soon as she got to know you were not more. Babies need to be fed; this cannot be halted. PERIOD.

Dante was quick to make them formula and feed them both together, juggling somehow with pillows, blankets and some contraption he created. In haste, somewhere in between, he places the ring back in its box, and that's how he forgot where the ring exactly was.

Dante looked at the ring. He knew he needed to exit this room now. Or he will be sucked into a spiral which is not healthy for him or kids. He could be cruel and brutal to himself; that's all he ever deserved in his eyes, but kids...they deserved the best. After all, you would have given them the best.

Dante wanted to exit the room; he did, but he was never good with control when it came to you. Dante rubbed his thumb on the little ruby studded in the silver ring. He knew it was no ruby, no normal stone. It was specifically made from a rather rare demon who can go back in time. But going back in time is all it could do. Not change anything. Dante remembered how it sucked them both back in time to go back 2000 years ago to kill Sparda himself. Dumb bitch couldn't understand that he can't kill someone who fought Mundus himself. He was killed in no time. Also, there are a few nods which were unalterable, like death, which cannot be changed at all;

The outcome shall always be the same.

Your intervention will only culminate in the same outcome.

The fact that you came back in time was how the story was supposed to unfold.

These were the pieces of information Dante knew as fact. It was gathered by Trish. After the demon was dead, what was left was this stone that one can harness to travel back in time and come back.

Why was it part of your ring? Because he could not have it lying around anywhere, and he trusted nobody more than you. Though you never knew what it could do.

So Dante had two options now: to stop this train of thought right here and go back to raising his kids like a good father, as he has been so far. Or he can go back in time when you were alive and hold you once more. Just to feel you once more against him.

Dante never liked fooling around with time. But the temptation to hold you just once more was so strong. He sighed... He stood up... He needed a drink.

Dante made his way back to Mini-Bar, putting whisky to the rim of the glass and gulping it down. By the morning, the whole mini bar was gone, and he was drunk. He woke up at 05:00AM and cursed himself, "Fuck!" He never got drunk so much since the day he was solely responsible for twins.

Dante started to stand up, his head heavy. But he pushed through it to clean everything. The whole place was a mess with bottles everywhere and books lying around. Twins were not awake, which made it clear that he didn't cause a scene; that was good.

Dante started to pick up trash in a trash bag and also clean up the place. It wasn't too bad to begin with, but he didn't want the twins to know. So he was just making quick work of tidying up the place. He remembered Morrison swung by yesterday to let him know of a new job outside the town, some 'paranormal activity', the client said. Nine out of ten times paranormal activities are just demons hiding in their closet; they are getting quite creative these days, he must say. Maybe working off some steam would be a good idea.

Around 7:00 AM, he heard rustling on the first floor; twins were running on the wooden flooring. Dante started to work on breakfast; he could make simple eggs and toast by now. Also cut up a few fruits in the morning. That was usually their breakfast. As he was plating the eggs, Eva and Vittalis came down running in their white and black uniforms along with their bags.

Eva quickly climbed up on the chair. She greeted, "Good morning, Daddy!" and started to eat. Dante stood behind her chair to comb and braid her hair. Vittalis yawned and lazily got on the chair and looked at Dante, "Morning...Father..."

Dante smiled, "You two slept well?" Eva nodded; Vittalis needed a minute to think. Dante looked at Vittalis. "You were reading a book late at night again under the blanket?" Vittalis was quiet; Eva just giggled. She won't snitch on her brother but will enjoy it. Dante sighed, "You're going to deteriorate your eyesight, kiddo." Vittalis grumbled as he took a few more bites; he was not very energetic today.

Dante left them alone to eat as he checked that they got everything they needed for school. "Okay...you two... I have a mission outside the town, so I won't be here till tomorrow afternoon, hopefully sooner. Patty will be here to look after you both...and Trish will swing by to check if everything is okay."

Dante was serious and looked at them both, "Tell me the rules..." Eva spoke with her mouth full, "No leaving the house as soon as the sun sets." Vittalis continued, "Stay within the boundaries of the Devil May Cry building..." Eva recalled, "If anything happens, run and stay within the room." Vittalis nodded, "Do not engage with anything or anyone suspicious... just stay in the room... until you, Trish or Nero come by..."

Dante was satisfied. "Good..." He ruffled both of their hairs and kissed their little heads... He sobbed silently, "I love you both so much..." Eva smiled, "I love you too, Daddy!" Vittalis could sense something wrong, "I love you too, Father... you're the best..."

Dante was caught off guard and just smiled...a real, genuine, tired smile. He nuzzled Vittalis's hair, "Thank you ...son..."

Eva butted in to squeeze herself in Dante's arms, "Daddy, take me on a mission too; I'm ready!" Vittalis was quick to speak, "I'm ready too! C'mon! Take us!"

Dante just laughed his heart out as he picked up and spun both of them. "Are you ready? Let's see!" Dante took the stance as both twins jumped and took stances themselves. They tried all their might to land a hit on Dante, but he easily threw them on the couch and twirled them away. There were lots of giggles and laughs, though.

They did reach school late, and Dante had to give them a note. Dante hugged them both tight; he wanted to cry, cry so badly. The ring was still in his pocket. He missed you so much. He wanted to see all this with you.

He just sat there for a solid time and watched twins run to their class, interacting with their friends. A woman stood close to him; it was the twins' teacher, Ms Woods. She found Dante attractive and was shy around him. She spoke calmly, "All good, Mister Redgrave?" Dante nodded. "Yeah...thank you for taking care of Eva and Vittalis." Ms Woods laughed, "Ohho...they are wonderful, trust me. They have a strong sense of righteousness ...." Dante frowned and thought that was a hefty word for six-year-olds. "What do you mean?" She smiled, "They won't let anyone bully Calvin... He is on the spectrum and has a hard time grasping meaning and emotions..." Dante did feel proud, "Ohho ...I see..."

Twins do have the heart of Sparda.

Dante was in an isolated part of the town; most of the village was abandoned because of supernatural activity whisking away children. Dante made his way to an abandoned church; its roof was falling. It was lightly raining, and in the middle were the bodies of the recently missing child and a demon in priest clothing sinking his teeth deep in the chest of a lifeless child, gnawing on its flesh and licking off the blood. The horrible sound in the silence filled his senses.

Tagged: @anime-lover1717 @moon-cakiie @tamashithe2nd @dickktektive @promtune @skullfacedlady @hoslunix @doodleferp

A long time back, it was a job to Dante, and he did feel sorry for the life lost. But he focused more on saving lives that could be protected now. But seeing the lifeless body of the child made his heart heavy; the child was around the same age as Eva and Vittalis – innocent, vulnerable, trusting and scared. The fear in the child's eyes was evident even in his lifeless iris. It crushed Dante's heart; he was mad and angry. He hasn't been this angry in years. His body felt the electric red run throughout his body, his fangs growing and clenching, his body morphing into his triggered self. Before the demon could look up, Dante's demonic claw pierced through his heart, pulling it out and crushing it. He morphed back, his hand bloodied with demon blood and some splattered on his face. Dante looked down at the heartless body of the demon; he walked past him. He picked up whatever remained of the child, wrapping its body in the white cloth he pulled from the altar, and scooped the shrouded body in his arms.

Part 2

[silent-stories]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader

Summary: Astarion fears that he is forcing you to spend the rest of your life in darkness.

Astarion was lying on the bed, next to you, his eyes were staring at an indefinite point on the ceiling and between his eyebrows there were a few more wrinkles, as if he was intensely thinking.

The inn room was comfortable, clean, and scented with lavender. It was nice to finally be able to spend a few days of peace after Cazador's death and sleep in a real bed, next to someone you loved.

You looked at his profile, the curve of his lips, the white curls on the pillow and some falling onto his forehead, the way his chest remained completely still, devoid of a beating heart and air in his lungs.

His ruby ​​eyes looked darker now that they were no longer in daylight and you found yourself thinking that you already missed the way they sparkled when hit by the sun's rays.

You glanced at the window in the room, the curtains were drawn so as not to let in the slightest bit of light, obviously. Ever since Astarion went back to not being able to be in the sunlight, you were always careful about that.

"Is something bothering you, Star?"

You already knew the answer, you knew him, but you didn't want to force any explanation.

"Don't you think you made the wrong choice?" He responded with another question, his voice low.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think I am the wrong choice?" He continued speaking without looking at you, his pale hands lying one on his stomach and one on his side. You wanted to grab one, kiss his knuckles and play with his fingers in that way that always made him laugh no matter how hard he tried to hold it back.

You decided against it only because he seemed so deep in his thoughts that a sudden touch would start him. You knew that some types of physical contact were still new to him.

"Star-"

"I feel like I'm forcing you to spend the rest of your life in the dark, hiding."

"You're not forcing me, it was my decision to stay with you."

"This is exactly why I ask you: don't you think you made the wrong decision?"

"You will never be-"

He interrupted you.

"I want you to know that if at any moment you realize that this is not the life you want to live, that you are tired of hiding from the sun, I will understand.

And although I may never be ready to let you go, I will, because you deserve to live. You deserve to walk among people, village festivals, going through the markets, you deserve the sun's rays kissing your skin. And I don't want to deprive you of what you deserve, my love. I can't deprive you of living."

The way he spoke and the sincerity in his voice, devoid of any hint of sarcasm and irony, struck you in a way you couldn't quite place and left you speechless.

He was telling you to leave him for your own good.

"As much as I would like to have you next to me for eternity, I find it a too selfish idea. Even for me." He continued, "So I'm telling you, if one day I won't find you lying in bed next to me, don't feel guilty for running away from someone who was limiting you, who was forcing you into the darkness when you wanted to see the world.

I'll understand it. I won't lie and say I won't spend the rest of my days trying in vain to fill the void you left in me, but that won't change my mind. You deserve to live, my love. Not to hide."

He was saying you could go, even though it would cause him pain. That it was more important to know you were happy with someone else than unhappy with him. You wondered if there was a greater sign of love than this.

"My star."

The way you called him, maybe stirred something in him. He turned his head towards you and his gaze finally met yours, his red eyes were big, sad and full of affection.

“I would rather spend the rest of my life in the darkness with you than in the daylight with someone else.”

He slowly moved his body towards you, his hand gently brushing your hip and so you reached out to trace his features with your fingertips, brushing a curl away from his forehead.

You kept talking.

"The world is still alive when the sun goes down, we can go out and live with it. We can see how the moon reflects on the waves of the sea and on the surface of the lakes, we can walk in the woods that only we know, we can try to count the stars and invent new constellations."

His grip around you became firmer but still extremely gentle as he pushed you closer to his body. You put your arms around him in the same way and with your hand you caressed his back, aware that under the light fabric of his shirt, the scars of his past stood out on his skin.

You remembered the day he told you that it was okay, when you touched them, that they hadn't caused him physical pain in years and that, when he felt the tips of your fingers run gently over them, it was as if they were healing for a second time.

"I don't care what we do, as long as we're together. I'm not interested in running away from you because I don't want anyone else. You won't find my side of the bed empty one day, because that's the only place I want to be. You didn't force me to do anything, Star, it was my decision to be with you. And it will be my decision to stay with you every day to follow."

There was a moment of silence, then his lips curved into a slight smile. Almost invisible, but enough to show the tips of his white canines.

“You have always been so stubborn.” He murmured before leaving a kiss on your forehead. It was light and sweet and made you giggle.

"I think you like that."

"Just a bit."

"Just a bit?" You asked, pretending to be shocked.

"Mh-mh."

"Now don't you try to tell me that-"

When his cold lips met yours, you couldn't finish your sentence. The kiss was sweet, full of meaning and slower than usual.

Because in the end, you had all the time.

Because you weren't planning on leaving anytime soon.

[cloudyskydreams]

How do u think the sans/papyrus AUs would reacts to their S/O being killed by frisk during a genocide run??

(ik this a little angsty, my bad if thats not ur thing<3)

I LOVE ANGST awful at writing it though. Hope this is up to your standards thanks for the request ::3!

There's no real way to do horrotales since frisks route was neutral and their reaction would be the same as sans and papyrus at the time of SO's death so I'm gonna do something special for them and have SO die of starvation because angst woo!!

couldn't decide if this was a monster or human SO so I'm goinggg human for this one! So some background SO is another fallen humans who fell about two years before frisk and has built friendships with the people underground and even started dating a special skeleton after wooing him.

As always hope you guys enjoy!

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･

Undertale:

Sans:

He's in shock at first. It doesn't seem real seeing frisk strike you down. He rushes to your side and holds you to his ribcage as he looks over your wounds. Frisk is quick to abscond not wanting to deal with the power they know sans holds yet. Sans does the best his can on your wounds not wanting to give up. He promises you he's going to fix this and we all know how much he hates promises. Sobbing loudly as he holds your limp body against him he crys for awhile until he goes numb. Standing up he takes something of yours a piece of jewelry or clothing. Burries you while in the same numb state. He wears the reminder of you constantly until his final battle with frisk. Once he's hit he laughs and mentions your name as well as Papyrus's as he stumbles and then falls to the floor.

Papyrus:

Upon seeing frisk strike you down his soul cracks a little. Someone he considered a good person a friend even hurting the one he cares most about. He rushes over and frisk debates taking him out to make it easy on their self but something stops them and they abscond. He holds you gently and trys to heal you as he shakes, the sound of his bones rattling filling the cold air. Eventually he realizes it's pointless and sobs as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear trying to soothe you as you go. Sans helps him bury you and he isn't the same afterwards. He's quiet and drained of energy wanting nothing more to see your gorgeous smile again. When frisk stands before him in an encounter he hardly fights back and when they strike him down he feels a semblance of peace knowing his soul will be reuniting with yours.

Underfell:

Red:

His soul stops when he sees frisk strike you down. Immediately rage fills the numb feeling and he rushes the small child. They battle until frisk somehow manages to escape and Red is left with you slowly drifting away. He panics upon seeing you and grabs you teleporting you home. He rushes through the house and forces you to eat monster candy cursing when it hardly does anything. He holds you to his chest begging you not to go not to leave him. He continues to plead far after your gone cradling your lifeless body to him. Edge finds him like this and after separating him from your corpse and calming him down the two bury you. Red also takes a keepsake of you and wears it until his final battle with frisk. He grins as he gets hit he tried his hardest and he killed the kid as many times as he could and now he gets to be with you and his brother again.

Edge:

He's frozen watching Frisk strike you down. Frisk smirks and throws up a peace sign upon seeing him before running away and that snaps him out of his frozen state. He's by your side in seconds all medical training with the guard running through his head. He stays relatively calm at first believing he can handle the situation...until he realizes he can't. Freezes again while watching you struggling to take breath in. He cradles your head gently, he knows what's going to happen and he's not ready. Kisses you softly and whispers soft words into your ear about how sorry he is about how he should've protected you and how he loves you so much. He sits there with your body in his lap for a long time as he zones out simply petting your hair. Red finds him and helps his brother bury you. He doesn't cry until he's home alone where he destroys his room and then cry's into the blankets that still smell like you. He puts up his hardest fight when frisk fights him, full of rage and as determined as a monster can get to avenge you. Of course it doesn't work out and Edge is cut down. He's ashamed he couldn't take down the one who killed you but he's grateful to return to your side hoping his brother will sprinkle his dust near on your grave.

Underswap:

Blue:

Shrieks upon seeing chara attack you and immediately sends a bone attack at the child. Rushes over and Chara flees as your body drops. Blue trys to catch you but he's a few seconds late and immediately scoops you up into his lap. Assessing your wounds and apples pressure covering his hands in blood he trys not to focus on. He reassure you promises it's going to be okay and gives you a bright smile even though his eyelights are swirls of distress. He starts to sob as he reassures you and when he realizes the pressure isn't doing anything he cradles you to his chest and sobs loudly, kissing your face and telling you how much he loves you. He rocks you back and forth softly as he watches the light fade from your beautiful eyes. Blue is heartbroken but beyond that he is so fucking angry. Stretch finds him while he's burying you and joins in on the funeral Blue shaking in rage in the entire time. He says a speech and sheds a few more tears before stomping off. He hunts down Chara not waiting for the child to seek him out and pulls them into an encounter. Blue gives it his all pulling out all the stops and fighting till his magic is depleted. He feels at bittersweet peace when Chara hits him and closes his eyes as he thinks about you and his brother for the last time letting the cold dark of death overtake him.

Stretch:

Panics immediately upon seeing chara strike you. He knew they were in a genocide route. He should've sheltered you more, hadn't left you leave the house. All the should'ves run through his head as he dashes to your side sending a bone after Chara who dodges easily. His attention is on you at the moment though so that doesn't matter. He's by your side in seconds grabbing you and teleporting you home. He freaks when you both land and situates you on the couch as he runs around like a chicken with it's head cut off looking for anything to help you. He trys patching you up and monster food but it doesn't work and he's slipping further into hopelessness as he watches you fade. Once he realizes it's over and he can't do anything he cuddles up with you and whispers shaky reassurances into your ear. Blue finds him shaking holding your body as he sobs quietly on the couch. Stretch takes his keepsake and keeps it on him at all times. When he faces off with Chara he kills them so many times they don't return for three days before their final attempt when they finally get him. He's tired so so tired and ready to rest by your side as he teleports to your grave slumping over on it so his dust will spread across it.

Horrortale:

Axe:

He tried so hard to find food for you and his brother. He realizes humans need more sustenance than just magic like him and his brother and he was hoping what he managed to catch plus his portions would be enough... but it wasnt. It was really hard on him waking up each day and seeing you slowly dying in front of him. It gets so bad he forgets what you originally looked like when you fell and that tears him apart. He holds you gently to his body as often as he can knowing he doesn't have much time with you. Mourns you while you're still alive and when you get to the point of being bed ridden he doesn't leave your side. You pass in your sleep and Axe was awake to hear your heartbeat stop. A part of his soul breaks away as you slip away from him. He and Willow bury you in their backyard. It's really hard on Axe because even though he wrote it down he still forgets and expects to see you by his side when he wakes up in the morning. In a state of lost puppy confusion looking for you until Willow reminds him what happened and his soul cracks again. He stands by your grave for hours. Doesn't talk at all anymore besides the occasional word to Willow. He doesn't want to leave Willow behind but a part of him desperately wishes for him to just die already so he can reunite with you.

Willow:

Much like his brother when he noticed you getting thinner he started devoting his portions to you. He tried his hardest to grow mushrooms or find things of sustenance for you. It's agonizing for him to watch you become a shell of your former self. When you start to get worse he starts babying you taking care of your chores and making sure you get plenty of rest. He refuses to give up hope even when your nothing but a frail husk of a person. He treats you gently as if your glass and starts reminding you more of how much he loves you. Cry's quietly during the night so as to not disturb you or his brother. When you become bedridden he stays by your side and reminisces on your time together as he trys to keep it together for you. He makes sure you're as comfortable as you can be at all times and is constantly showering you in love and affection. He knows when you die by your lack of heartbeat but doesn't want to believe it. He tells himself you're just sleeping for now and let's himself believe that lie until morning. Sobs softly over your body as he tries to wake you gently. He and Axe bury you and Willow is an emotional wreck. He trys to put on a happy face for his brother but when he gets moments alone he's numb. Loses his appetite and struggles to eat slowly growing weaker. He does eventually force himself to eat for Axes sake but he never really returns to how he was when he had you.