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animasolaoriginal · 4 months ago

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I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWO

CHAPTER ONE TWO THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

She wakes up in his bed without any recollection of how she got there and what happened. But does it matter? She'd be stupid to deny a hot, rich guy like him, wouldn't she? No matter what he demands of her...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Butt plug. Hand job/blow job. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.8k

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

She wakes to a low thumping inside her head and a strange taste on her tongue. It's a known hurt, usually brings up memories of parties, too much to drink, dancing till her feet give up. But she can't remember anything. And it's painful to even try to remember. It gets worse when she opens her eyes and finds herself in an unknown room.

On a bed. A stranger's bed.

Her first instinct is a little flutter of her heart, panic, unease, frantically looking around while she sits up slowly and bunches the covers around her shivering body. A quick feel beneath them gives her a short-lived peace of mind. She's not naked, but some of her clothes are missing. She swallows thickly, clears her throat, tests her voice.

Only to suddenly meet the stare of a man sitting opposite the bed, on a couch between two large floor-to-ceiling windows showing a familiar cityscape. She freezes when he looks at her with dark eyes, a little glint in them, a smirk on his lips as he watches her. She wraps the blanket tighter around herself.

“Good morning,” he says, voice deep, a low thrum in the air.

“Hi,” she replies hoarsely, her rapid heartbeat echoing inside her hurting skull.

“How do you feel?”

“Head hurts,” she mumbles, not even wondering why he would ask that. Not wondering anything at that point, really.

“There are some painkillers on the nightstand, and water,” he replies with a nod to her left.

She follows the hint and sees a large glass of water and two small pills next to it. And her skirt, neatly folded on the edge of the table. Leaning over to grab the things she needs to hopefully feel better, she keeps her eyes on him, cautious, hesitant. Once the pills are down and the glass empty, she inhales deeply, that awful taste gone from her mouth. One less thing to worry about. Though it gives her the chance to feel other things.

Like the stickiness between her thighs.

Shifting on the bed, she looks around, dares to break eye contact, gets a lay of the land, or at least the room. Huge. Minimalist. Just the bed, two bedside tables with a tiny lamp each, no clutter, a large couch on the opposite wall with a pompous rug in front of it, two doors to her right, one on the left. A single large plant in one corner. Fancy wooden floorboards, white walls adorned with exquisite trim. A luxurious light fixture built for a museum above her.

She looks back at him, her mind racing. “Do you remember me?” he asks when she meets his gaze. She nods. Of course she does. She's been coming to his club for weeks, and he finally noticed her. She has no idea how she ended up in his bedroom though.

He stands up, a tall frame clad in a fancy black suit with a white shirt, handsome and intimidating. Somehow even wealthier than she expected. His steps are confident as he approaches the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Did we –” she starts quietly, scooting back a little as he sits down on the edge, facing her.

“Did we what?” he replies, his lips curling up slightly. “Use your words, darling.”

She shivers, a strange feeling coursing through her as his words sink in. “Did we have sex?” she then manages to say, feeling her cheeks warming up.

“No,” he says, braced on one arm as he watches her closely. “Do you want us to?”

Now her head is burning, and she looks away with a sharp inhale. His laugh is low and rough. She breathes loudly through her nose.

“Is that not why you came to me?”

Their eyes meet again, she bites the inside of her cheek. Has it been that obvious? It's been a stunt, a challenge from her friends, a silly little dream. She's had no idea it would actually work. Whatever it was that made it work. There hasn't been much planning, to be honest, with how drunk she's been, high on adrenaline and endorphins, too happy to care about possible consequences.

She flinches when he extends a hand and brushes his fingers against her side, curls them into the blanket. Her heart is racing as he slowly pulls it away, exposing her. She doesn't fight it, just freezes, hugs her knees to her chest, crosses her feet, when the covers fall away. Why doesn't she fight it? Why should she? He's hot, rich, gives her the attention she's been craving her whole life. She'd be stupid to push a man like that away.

But he doesn't touch her, just looks at her, eyes wandering over her body, while she sits on the bed, shivering, waiting, her mind spinning.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and she frowns at the question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His eyes meet hers, his gaze intense, dark, somewhat hungry. There's a playful twitch to his lips, and he leans back, licking them. “Probably the same reason why you approached me,” he replies quietly, his voice low with an almost dangerous edge to it. “To fuck you absolutely senseless.”

His words make her gasp, eyes widening at the bluntness. Still she feels that throb between her legs, the warmth seeping into her panties. She shouldn't be this excited, and she forces herself to not make it too obvious.

Grinding her jaw, she looks away, towards the large windows. She has no idea what time of day it is, the sky is gray and the buildings she can see are only various shapes in a different shade of gray. She must be downtown, it's too high up to recognize anything. She's never been in any of the taller buildings of the city before.

His hand is on her foot, long fingers curling around it, and she whips her head back to him, inhaling sharply. “Is that not what you want?” he whispers, his thumb drawing circles on her ankle.

She breathes faster, no longer as sure as she's been last night. It's not helping that she cannot remember anything other than approaching him at the bar. There's the faint image of being pinned to a wall, making out in the darkness. But nothing more. She swallows, staring down at his hand.

“I... I don't know...” she mumbles. His thumb stops moving, he tilts his head at her.

“Are you a virgin, sweetheart?” he asks bluntly.

She clears her throat, ears burning under her hair. “Uh, yeah,” she admits, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. His touch feels too warm, too invasive all of a sudden.

“Do you want to leave here a virgin?”

She doesn't like the way he says that, it makes goosebumps ripple over her skin. He takes his hand away, and she looks at him. She's expected him to grin at her, look suggestive, leering and creepy, somehow, but his expression is full of genuine worry, lines on his forehead, a furrow between his brows. Dark eyes as intense as ever, but warmer. And so freaking handsome it's really distracting.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she can only shake her head. His face relaxes, the hint of a smile grazing his lips. “Good,” he says and stands up. She flinches at the sudden movement. “Go take a shower,” he then orders, pointing to one of the doors to her right. “There's some stuff you can use in there. Wait here when you're done.”

His tone is authoritative, not leaving any room for complaints or hesitation. “Yes, sir,” slips out of her almost automatically, and he smiles wider.

“Good girl,” he says, winking at her as he walks around the bed towards the door leading out of the room.

He leaves her sitting on the bed, shivering, a strange tension in her stomach. She doesn't even try to comprehend why his last two words to her felt like something she's never experienced before, like a warm shiver running down her spine, a caress deep within her. An itch she never knew she needed to scratch.

The bathroom is almost as huge as the bedroom, black and white tiles, warm wooden tones in the vanity and cabinets lining one wall to accent the lack of colors. There's a big bathtub in front of a large window, the lower half of it covered by expensive looking blinds, showing only the gray sky beyond. The shower is enormous, could easily fit five people. But she's alone in it, standing under the spray, still pondering what is happening. What she's agreed to.

Has she agreed to anything though? Well, denying to want to leave or to remain a virgin couldn't be more straight-forward.

What's gotten into her?

Sure, he's handsome, wealthy, owns a night club, lives in an apartment overlooking the city, quite a catch, but he is still a stranger. Just a man she's grown a little infatuated with over the last visits to his club. She's always seen him lounging at the bar, looking over the dance floor, dark eyes scanning the crowd. She's seen him hooking up with random girls, leading them into the back.

And she wanted to be one of them.

A silly wish, and now she stands naked in his shower. It's almost too good to be true. No, it's foolish, dangerous even. She doesn't know him. Did she really agree to be taken back to his place? She can't remember. Why can't she remember? The painkillers work, but the low thumping is still there, muffled and no longer as agonizing, but still there, in the back of her mind, like a mass of unanswered questions burning through her nerves.

Inhaling deeply, surrounded by the steam of the shower and the faint scent of him that clings to the room, she tilts her chin up and lets the water run down her head, over her warm face, through her hair down her back, little rivulets following the curves of her body. Gosh! She's never felt this nervous before.

But in the end it's just sex, isn't it? Better to lose her virginity to a rich guy in his fancy place than to a drunk guy in a dirty alleyway. It can't be that bad, right?

When she steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, her gaze falls onto the little pile on the vanity. Rubbing her hair, she inspects it – and freezes. It's underwear, white lace with the hint of shimmery satin, intricate, barely able to cover anything, bra and panties, but that's not what makes her insides churn. It's the little metal thing lying on top, the teardrop shape with a small handle like a knob, adorned with a big sparkling jewel. She may be inexperienced, but she knows exactly what it is. He left her a freaking butt plug.

Shivering at the thought of putting anything up her ass, she ignores it and focuses on the packaged toothbrush he's given her. Putting all her energy into brushing her teeth, drying her body, blowing hot air through her messy hair, she quickly forgets about the implication that special gift holds. When she puts on the white underwear, she leans towards the mirror and wipes at the steamed-up surface to look at herself. A gasp escapes her.

Not only does she look so different in the lace set (the white little embroidered flowers barely covering her nipples or her sex, the thong sitting deep between her butt cheeks, leaving nothing to the imagination), but she also notices the large bruise on the side of her neck.

Her finger traces the deep purple mark, and she shivers. The memory is faint, but she can feel it as she remembers last night (or what remains of it), how he's sucked on her skin, his warm mouth, even warmer tongue, licking over his work. She swallows thickly. The throbbing is back, low inside her, her stomach tense. It's either fear or anticipation, she can't be sure just yet.

When she exits the bathroom with her hair cascading down her shoulders, trying to cover more of her chest, she lets out a little yelp when she sees him sitting on the couch again, one leg over the other, lowering his phone when he notices her. His eyes are on her immediately, and she tries to cover herself with her hands as she walks backwards to the nightstand, trying to grab her skirt.

“No need,” he says, his voice firm, and she freezes, hand extended, fingers brushing over the fabric. She frowns at him, and he shakes his head. “You'll only wear what I tell you,” he adds, and the harsh tone lets her exposed skin pebble, his words barely registering inside her suddenly empty mind.

She inhales sharply, holding her breath. She's never felt this exposed and vulnerable, embarrassed that he can see her like this. Even though he'll probably see a lot more of her very soon. The thought scares her as much as it excites her. To say she's conflicted is an understatement.

When he stands up abruptly, she flinches, and even more so when he is with her in a few quick strides of his long legs. His hand closes around her wrist, pulling her towards him. She has to look up at him now, her chest rising and falling faster, heart thundering loudly, something hot gathering deep in her belly. He watches her closely, a stern look in his eyes, as his other hand slides down her side, over skin and lace, curves around her rear, and she shrieks when she feels his fingers dipping into the cleft between her ass cheeks.

He lets go of her, his eyebrows furrowed. She bites her lip as he scrutinizes her darkly, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. He comes back with the little metal thing between his fingers, and she feels her stomach tensing up even more.

“You didn't like my little gift, huh?” he says quietly, almost menacingly.

“I... I did–didn't know how to... use that...” she admits in a breathy whisper.

“Hmm,” he hums and steps closer to her, one hand cupping her face as he leans towards her, the other holding up the plug, dangerously close to her lips. She stares at him, stiffening, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Open your mouth,” he tells her.

She hesitates, and he pushes his thumb and forefinger into her cheeks, forcing her jaw apart. A muffled whimper escapes her, and she grabs at his wrist instinctively. His gaze darkens.

“Tongue out,” he whispers, his voice that low thrum in the air, stern and strict, and she knows she shouldn't hesitate anymore. Slowly she extends her tongue, flat, mouth open, her eyes wide as she watches him when he lowers the metal object onto it. “Come on, lick it or it goes in dry.”

A cold shiver crashes through her, every muscle clenching in anticipation. Struggling to swallow hard (which isn't easy with her mouth open), she flicks her tongue around the cold object, holding his gaze. He pushes the plug deeper between her lips and forces her to close her mouth around it. She feels her eyes watering as he pushes it in and out, coating it in her saliva, warming it up. It's humiliating, to say the least. But she's afraid it's only the beginning...

He plops the plug back out of her mouth, then quickly pulls her against him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. She can barely react as he manhandles her onto his lap, draped over it, ass raised, stomach pressing into his hard thigh, hair falling over her head. She claws at the fabric of his pants, squirming on his lap, her head spinning as she tries to understand what's happening. “Hold still,” he tells her, but it's almost an instinct to writhe more, fight against what he has planned.

The sudden slap of his hand against her ass cheek is loud in her ears, and it takes a moment before the pain attacks her senses. A pathetic little cry escapes her, and she kicks her feet. Another slap to the other cheek makes her yelp again, the sting to her soft skin like nothing she's ever felt before.

“Hold still!” he repeats, and she whimpers, buries her head in his leg, and forces herself not to squirm, despite the throbbing pain. She feels tears in her eyes, her mind blank with shock. Her breaths are frantic, little wheezes of panic. “Shh,” he makes, his hand gently caressing the irritated skin now. She relaxes a bit, but only until he pulls her thong to the side and she feels something cold pressing against her sphincter.

“No!” she whines out, unable not to squirm, and he sighs deeply. Instead of spanking her again, he brushes his finger along her cleft, warm, a teasing tingle, a little rough, but better than that hard plug. Until she hears and feels him spitting on her, something warm and wet gathering on her skin, his finger spreading it around slowly, and then he dips his fingertip into her tight hole.

She gasps and tenses up immediately, only making it worse. He doesn't care, slowly works his finger deeper, wriggling it slightly, easing the tight muscles. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, quietly whimpering, frozen in place. Surrendering to the fate she seemingly called upon herself. By the time he forces the plug into her ass, she's sobbing, unsure how to feel about the object poking out of her – and what that says about his other plans for her.

He helps her stand then, big hands on her upper arms, looks down at her as she looks up at him through her tears. Sighing deeply, he wipes at her wet face, smoothing her hair, shaking his head. “You'll learn to love it,” he whispers before he leans in and presses his lips to hers for a soft kiss, a gesture she hasn't expected after whatever just happened. His words barely register, the underlying threat (or promise?) for more overpowered by her own shame and confusion.

Leaning back, one hand on her face, thumb on her bottom lip, he watches her, something dark glinting in his eyes. His other hand moves along the curve of her spine before he gives her another slap to her tense ass cheek. She cries out, flinching away, feeling her muscles clenching around the metal thing inside her. He only laughs and grabs her hand, pulling her after him.

She puts her bare feet into the ground, and he looks back at her, eyebrows raised. “C-can I... get something m-more to wear?” she asks quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

He tilts his head, chuckling. “No need,” he says again. “It's just us, baby, don't worry.” She doesn't know how to feel about that.

“Please?” she tries again. “I'm... cold...”

“Are you now?” he whispers, his hand moving up to her chest, his thumb pressing against her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. “Doesn't look like it.”

She lowers her head, inhaling sharply, blinking away new tears.

“Little advice, darling,” he says, putting his finger under her chin and making her look at him. “Never lie to me.” His words are cold, his eyes dark as he stares at her. “Understood?”

She swallows, nods slowly. He grabs her chin, narrowing his eyes. “Y-yes,” she says, quickly adding: “Sir.”

He lets go of her and gives her a smile, his hand on her head, patting it softly. “Good girl,” he whispers. Her insides tense up, something cold trickles down her spine while something warm throbs inside her core.

He takes her through his vast apartment, but she's too focused on walking behind him to really look around, his hand big and tight around hers, her bare feet tapping over the wooden floor, and she feels practically naked in that sorry excuse for underwear he's forced her to wear.

Force, there's no way around it now. He's forcing her to do this, no matter what she might have agreed to. That plug in her ass that twitches with every step she takes? She didn't want that and yet it's there now, tightly gripped by her confused muscles, the shiny knob brushing against her thong, giving her shiver after shiver. But she's too stunned and overwhelmed by it all to even think about finding a way out of this.

Is this still what she wants? Has she ever truly wanted this, whatever this is? She has no idea, she just knows, somehow, that whatever he tells her to do, she'll do it if he keeps calling her good girl. It's a strange realization, two simple words, but they make her feel special, like she's never felt before. Just thinking about it makes her core ache, her muscles clench, her nipples perk up.

She's caught in her own mind when he stops in front of a set of couches, a u-shape in a large room, a plush rug beneath her feet, more of those big floor-to-ceiling windows, the gray city beyond the glass, so far away it seems. He watches her, she realizes when she looks up at him with a slight frown, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. Letting go of her hand, he sits down, leans deep into the cushions, both arms resting on the back of the couch.

“Straddle me,” he says quietly as she shifts nervously on her feet in front of him. Swallowing, she moves her gaze from his eyes to his crotch, to his wide spread legs. A confident sitting position, exuding dominance. And she knows she shouldn't hesitate, but it still takes her a moment to follow the order.

Slowly she moves closer, one leg on either side of his, cautiously pushing them together a bit to allow her to kneel on the couch and sit down on his strong thighs. Her hands find his shoulders for support, and she watches him as closely as he watches her. Her heart is racing when she settles on his lap, trying not to focus on the fact that her legs are spread wide enough to give him a good look at the scandalously thin fabric of her thong, barely hiding anything.

He tilts his head as she retrieves her hands and folds them in front of her sex, head lowered, shoulders stiff, still unsure what she is even doing here. Suddenly he grabs her waist, large hands splayed around her body, making her look back at him with a little gasp.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes boring into hers. It's not a question of consent, it's another command, and she can't help but agree yet again.

“I... I want this,” she says under her breath.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

She inhales deeply. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he urges, fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want...” she starts, chewing on her lip, her eyes wandering away from him, her cheeks burning up in embarrassment. “I...” Her mouth feels dry. “I want you to... to...” She swallows thickly. “...to sleep with me...”

His laugh sounds almost mocking. She looks up with her eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursed, discomfort written all over her face. “So fucking innocent,” he mutters, shaking his head, amusement or malice making his lips twitch. “Say you want me to fuck you. Come on, use big girl words, baby.”

She presses her lips together, shifting on his lap. “I... I want you to... f-fuck me...” she repeats quietly, clenching her jaw, trying to hide the shaking of her voice, embarrassment burning deep inside her belly.

His hands move up her sides until he grabs her face, pulling her closer towards him until his nose brushes against hers. “You want me to take your virginity?” he whispers darkly, his breath fanning over her face.

“Y-yes,” she whispers back, her heart beating harder.

“You want my cock in your cunt?”

She flinches at his words, but nods into his hands.

“Say it...”

She swallows, breathing loudly through her nose. “I... I want your... your cock... in my... my c-cunt,” she stammers, feeling the blush spreading all over her body, her eyes watering under the intensity of his gaze, his closeness, his grip on her face, the dominance in his voice.

He smiles, quickly pressing his lips to hers. “Good girl.”

She closes her eyes, a deep shudder rushing through her body like a wave of relief. He pulls her against him, wrapping both arms around her, just holding her while she rests her cheek on his shoulder, savoring his warmth, the unexpected intimacy of a simple hug. But simple doesn't seem to be something he likes, because his hands wander lower, cupping her rear, fingers kneading her soft flesh, teasing between her cheeks, rubbing along the thin strip of fabric, pressing against the base of the plug.

Forcing herself not to flinch, she just leans against him and lets him touch her, her hands squished between their bodies, dangerously close to the warm hardness between his legs. With how he handles her butt, she's forced closer against him, her fingers brushing along the bulge, and when he suddenly pulls on the plug, she jerks away and into him, pelvis slamming into his lower stomach, and she can feel him through the thin fabric of her thong. Hard and hot.

His hands move back to her hips, pulling her away again. He looks at her, curiously with a dark glint in his eyes. “Have you ever touched a cock, darling?” he asks quietly.

She licks her lips, shakes her head.

“Seen one?”

Another shake of her head. His amusement turns into surprise, while the shame of her confession makes her blush even more. He gives her a strangely sweet smile, one hand on her warm cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her lips.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” she replies, her heart racing. His eyebrows rise up, and she quickly adds: “Sir?” He just looks at her, pointedly, demanding. “I... I want to touch it...” she then whispers, biting her lip. “Your... your cock...”

He caresses her cheek, smiling. “Such a quick learner,” he praises. “Well, go on then, make your wish come true,” he continues, leaning into the cushions, pushing her backwards a little, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he watches her intently.

She stares at him for a moment before she understands the command. Shifting on his lap, her fingers move towards his belt, shaking uncontrollably, her mind reeling, heart beating out of her chest. Somehow she manages to unbuckle his belt and open the button and zipper of his pants. Without too much thought, her hand curls into the opening, fingertips brushing against warm skin.

Looking up for confirmation, she sees him nodding, and when she frees his hard erection (the sight more intimidating than she expected) by pulling the fabric down, his lips curl up into a smirk. “Don't be shy, just grab it.”

She does, two small hands around his girthy length, his flesh hot and hard, veins bulging against her palms. A little throbbing motion from deep within. Unsure what to do, she just squeezes her hands around him a little, until he puts his big hand on hers and starts moving it, showing her how he wants her to touch him. He's surprisingly patient with his teachings, guides one of her hands up and down his shaft while he places her other to cup around his testicles.

Her breaths are frantic little puffs of air, her cheeks are burning in embarrassment, but when she looks at his face instead of his angrily throbbing cock, she sees him smiling at her, a soft expression she hasn't expected, almost proud, and she inhales deeply and focuses on the task at hand – literally.

Eventually he takes his hands away and lets her do her thing, and she follows the movements he's shown her, moving her hand up and down, shifting the soft skin over his hardened core, closing her fist around his tip, smearing the precum leaking from it around his length, while the fingers of her other hand knead the soft flesh of his balls. It's almost relaxing, meditative.

He's breathing deeper, louder, and she can see his face tensing up, as if he's holding himself back. She continues stroking him, pumping him with all she has, until he grabs her wrist and stops her, his eyes almost black from how dilated his pupils are. She's too stunned to fight him when he suddenly manhandles her onto the couch next to him, on her knees, facing him, and he forces her head down with an iron grip to her hair. She yelps in surprise.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps, voice deep and rough. She swallows hard, stares down at his cock twitching inches away from her face. But she follows the order, her lips trembling as she parts them, tongue out flat, and before she can prepare herself, he's forced her head down on him. His tip slips into her mouth, warm and wet, a slightly bitter taste on her tongue. “Close your lips around it and suck,” he orders, his grip unrelenting.

She feels her eyes watering, her chest heaving in panic, her hands bracing around his thigh. He holds her in place, waits for her to do so, and when she hollows her cheeks, he inhales sharply. She breathes loudly through her nose, feeling his cock hard and heavy against her tongue, poking into her gums. It's just the tip, but it fills out her mouth to the point she's afraid to choke on it.

“Keep... pumping,” he breathes, hoarsely, on the verge of losing it. Her hand finds the rest of his dick, and she starts moving it up and down his length, still so much ground to cover, so big she's somehow glad he doesn't force it deeper, or even down her throat.

His body is shivering beneath her, the hand in her hair tightening its grip until it hurts. Muffled whimpers escape her, but she keeps sucking on his tip, precum and saliva filling her mouth, dripping past her lips and down her chin. She moves her tongue as best as she can, flicking it around his spongy crown, while stroking up and down his throbbing girth quick and hard.

A grunt escapes him, and she feels him twitching inside her mouth and against her palm. He grabs her head with both hands and holds it down, it's a sharp pain that makes tears roll over her cheeks, but it's nothing compared to the sudden jerk against the back of her throat that makes her flinch in panic.

She tastes it, hot and salty and thick, as he comes inside her mouth, spurt after spurt, filling her cheeks until she can't hold it anymore and has to swallow. It hurts to do so, and she opens her jaw a little wider, letting most of it drip down her chin as she gulps for air.

He relaxes beneath her, his grip easing on her head, releasing her. His hand pries her tight fingers off his cock and holds it himself while he pulls her back a little. She looks up at him from under her clumped lashes, vision blurry, mouth and chin covered in a thick layer of spit and cum. She feels too lightheaded to be embarrassed about how she may look, and when he gives her a weak smile, she cares even less.

His finger traces along her chin, gathers his cum and slowly pushes between her trembling lips. It's almost an instinct to lick around his fingertip, and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. He keeps cleaning her and she keeps licking up his essence, the taste growing on her despite the initial bitterness. He wipes his palm over her mouth, smearing the last remnants over her lips, before he holds out his hand to her, soiled palm up, watching her closely.

She shifts on her knees, her body shivering, overwhelmed by all these new experiences, but she manages to cradle his big hand with her smaller ones and leans down to trace her tongue over his lifelines, lapping up the rest until his hand is clean. He nods approvingly and grabs her chin to guide her back to his crotch. “Clean,” he says quietly, and she only nods and bends down to bring her tongue to his cock once more.

His fingers dig into her hair, gentle caresses this time, light scalp massages, while she licks around his tip, sucks up the last drops of cum from his slit, moves up and down his shaft with her lips sucking lightly, while her lungs burn and her head throbs. It's as if it's the only thing that exists anymore, his cock, his pleasure, his contentment. Only to get the soft touches and gentle words, those two words he has yet to say to her for her service, her obedience.

He pulls her back once she's done, quickly putting himself away again while she leans on her knees, head bowed, licking her lips, swaying slightly as if drunk. It's a strange kind of serenity. Calm, head empty, his taste lingering on her tongue. Nothing more to worry about.

Shifting beside her, he pulls her onto his lap, strong arms caging her in, her head resting on his shoulder as he holds her, one hand rubbing up and down her back. “You did good,” he whispers, and she shivers, soaking up the praise like a sponge, saving it for later.

“Thank you,” she breathes against him, and the hand on her back pauses.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks.

She swallows, inhaling deeply. “For... for saying that I did good, for... teaching me, for...” She feels her cheeks burning up, head clearing enough to feel embarrassed again. “For... letting me touch and... and taste you...” she adds in a low mumble, burying her face in his collarbone. For not forcing me to do more, she thinks.

He laughs softly, resuming the rubbing of her back. “It's nice to start the day like this, huh?”

She only hums in response, melting into his body as he holds her. They sit like this for a long moment, it feels strangely natural, intimate and warm. Something she could get used to. Something that scratches the itch deep within.

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

End notes: It's only going downhill from here...

By the way, you may or may not have noticed that these characters don't have names: and that's on purpose. I want to keep this as vague as possible, focusing solely on their connection. If you need to address them, I guess Sir and Darling would work? But really, it's just He and She now.

(And if you wanted to, you can imagine them being your favorite fictional characters also. I didn't describe their appearance either, despite it being an older, taller man and younger, shorter woman. Anything goes.)

And yes, our female character is very naive, very submissive, very innocent indeed. I hope it's not too much. She has a crush, okay? And we all know (hopefully) how that can turn brains into mush.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾️TWO◾️THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE

SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

#ao3 original work #dead dove do not eat #dom/sub #d/s dynamic #praise k!nk #older man younger woman #size difference #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #original fiction #infatuated

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seven-homosexual-dinosaurs · 2 months ago

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If holoen was a high school au myth would be the seniors everyone knows but don’t know how and Gura heads the marine biology club but doesn’t know how to swim and Watson notoriously knows everything about everyone, even things you don’t know about yourself and Calli is cool and mysterious but most people don’t know that she’s so horrifically bad at keeping plants alive that she’s not allowed in the botany club’s room and Kiara works at a fast food place but no one can figure out which one since she keeps somehow appearing in all of them and Ina looks like the most normal one out of all of them until you catch a peek at her sketchbook and it’s just filled with drawings of creatures unknown and incomprehensible scribbling she claims she doesn’t remember writing.

Promise used to head student council until they all stepped down (got kicked off) for a classified incident that involved one alleged charge of eco-terrorism and at least three dead rabbits found in the club room and Bae has gotten in trouble for biting people at least seven times and Kronii can always tell you what time it is without looking at a clock and Fauna runs the botany club but secretly uses the club room to grow weed on the side and Mumei is the weird kid that no one but Promise quite understands beyond the fact that she once entered a classroom through the window because the halls were too crowded and Irys is the kid that keeps buying out the soda machines and then throwing the empty cans at Bae and there are several student groups dedicated to figuring out wtf is Promise’s deal with alleged crime and whatever romantic fuckery is happening in the group.

Advent is a group of “delinquents” that except for Shiori and Biboo are just really bad at following the rules and Shiori is the girl who has somehow read every book ever and can give a full literary analysis on them and Nerissa is in at least five situationships with five different girls and Biboo keeps threatening people and then claiming “Oobib” did it and people believe her cause she’s cute and FuwaMoco once got in trouble for bringing a dead bird they hunted to school to show Advent and the entire group has reserved seats in detention yet they somehow manage to escape every time.

Justice is the new student council and Liz is the kid that patrols the halls to make sure no one gets bullied and Gigi and Cecilia may or may not have robbed a 7/11 one time but it’s ok since they only ever cause mischief outside of school grounds and “for justice” and Raora has four cats at home and constantly talks about them and one time got in a fight with someone over breaking spaghetti that resulted in several broken bones and a lifetime ban from Olive Garden but it’s ok because she never fought over food again (Justice has her on a leash).

Calli and Kiara babysit the neighborhood kid Kobo and are lowkey competing to be her favourite and Kronii and Gura have gotten in at least six fistfights yet are somehow really good friends and Liz and Nerissa have a Romeo and Juliet type “forbidden romance” that they’re really dramatic and secretive about when in actuality literally everyone knows about it.

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minkyungseokie · 7 months ago

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Anime

No Game No Life

Sora and Shiro are two hikikomori stepsiblings who are known in the online gaming world as Blank, an undefeated group of gamers. One day, they are challenged to a game of chess by Tet, a god from another reality. The two are victorious and are offered to live in a world that centers around games.

Blue Exorcist

After discovering that he's the son of Satan, a young man must join the True Cross Academy in order to master his abilities and defeat Satan himself

Naruto

It tells the story of Naruto Uzumaki, a young ninja who seeks recognition from his peers and dreams of becoming the Hokage, the leader of his village.

One Piece

In a seafaring world, a young pirate captain sets out with his crew to attain the title of Pirate King, and to discover the mythical treasure known as 'One Piece.'

Twin Star Exorcist

The story revolves around Rokuro Enmado and Benio Adashino, a pair of young and talented exorcists, who (according to a prophecy) are destined to marry and have a child that will be the ultimate exorcist.

Jujustu Kaisen

Yuji Itadori, a kind-hearted teenager, joins his school's Occult Club for fun, but discovers that its members are actual sorcerers who can manipulate the energy between beings for their own use. He hears about a cursed talisman - the finger of Sukuna, a demon - and its being targeted by other cursed beings.

Fairy Tail

The series follows the adventures of Natsu Dragneel, a member of the Fairy Tail wizards' guild who is searching for the dragon Igneel, and partners with Lucy Heartfilia, a celestial wizard.

Play it cool, Guys

A look into the daily lives of four guys who walk the line between unapproachably cool and undeniably clumsy on a regular basis.

Black Butler

Ciel has formed a contract with demon Sebastian Michaelis, who disguises himself as his butler, to seek revenge on those who tortured him and murdered his parents. In exchange for his services, Sebastian will be allowed to consume Ciel's soul.

Uramichi Oniisan

Being an adult is hard. For 31-year-old Uramichi Omota, that depressing truth weighs on him. While on TV, he's an upbeat exercise instructor for a children's show, but sometimes he can't keep his sardonic comments to himself.

Overtake

Freelance photographer Kôya Madoka finds himself in a slump due to a certain reason. He goes to Fuji International Speedway to work on a story, and he meets the highschool F4 racer Haruka Asahina. He suddenly finds his heart racing after not feeling much for a long time.

March Comes in Like a Lion

It features the life of Rei Kiriyama, an introvert and professional shogi player, who gradually develops both his play and his relationship with others.

The Devil is a Part-Timer

Hilarity and fun ensues when Satan ends up in modern day Japan without any magic to return, and starts working part time in a fast food joint.

Yowamushi Pedal

Onoda is a cheerful otaku looking to join his new school's anime club, eager to finally make some friends. Unfortunately, the club has been disbanded and somehow he stumbled into the bicycle club.

Tokyo Revengers

Hanagaki Takemichi lives an unsatisfying life right up until his death. Waking up 12 years in the past, he reckons with the eventual fate of his friends and tries to prevent an unfortunate future.

Ouran High School Host Club

One day, Haruhi, a scholarship student at exclusive Ouran High School, breaks an $80,000 vase that belongs to the "Host Club," a mysterious campus group consisting of six super-rich (and gorgeous) guys. To pay back the damages, she is forced to work for the club, and it's there that she discovers just how wealthy the boys are and how different they are from everybody else.

Mashle: Magic and Muscles

The story follows Mash Burnedead, a magic-less kid who enrolls at Easton and aims to fool everyone into thinking he's top of the class

IDOLiSH7

An idol group is named "Idolish7," and consists of seven male singers, each with their own unique personality and background. Tsumugi must train and turn all of them into the famous idols, all the while struggling against the hardships of the entertainment industry

Tokyo Ghoul

Set in a world where humans live in constant fear of ghouls - superpowered humanoid beings who feed on human flesh to survive, a shy college student named Kaneki Ken, who is nearly killed in an attack by one of these monsters, becomes a half-ghoul himself after receiving an organ transplant from the ghoul.

Obey Me

The main character is transported to Devildom by a summoning ritual to attend Devildom Academy as a exchange student for one year. The main character will be greeted by seven gorgeous men that are avatars of the deadly sins.

Buddy Daddies

Kazuki Kurusu and Rei Suwa, assassins who live under one roof; and Miri, the daughter of Kazuki and Rei's assassination target who ended up being picked up by Kazuki, who she thinks is her biological father.

SpyxFamily

The story follows a spy who has to "build a family" to execute a mission, not realizing that his adopted daughter is a telepath, and the woman he agrees to marry is a skilled assassin

Haikyuu

Junior high school student, Shoyo Hinata, becomes obsessed with volleyball after catching a glimpse of Karasuno High School playing in the Nationals on TV.

Food Wars

Teenager Soma Yukihira aspires to become a full-time chef in his father Joichiro's family restaurant, "Restaurant Yukihira", and to surpass his father's culinary skills.

My Hero Academia

Born without special powers in a world where 80% of the population has them, Izuku Midoriya still dreams of becoming a hero.

Black Clover

The story follows Asta, a young boy born without any magic power who is given a rare grimoire that grants him anti-magic abilities. With his fellow mages from the Black Bulls, Asta plans to become the next Wizard King.

The Daily Life of the Immortal King

A boy with extraordinary magical powers tries to pass for average at his new high school, where the students learn to cultivate their spiritual force.

Demon Slayer

A family is attacked by demons and only two members survive - Tanjiro and his sister Nezuko, who is turning into a demon slowly.

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puppy-phum · 12 days ago

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Pit Babe Characters x Cartomancy ➣ Part 5: Winner & Dean

Jack of Clubs: Reckless and a little too sure of himself. Gets in trouble a lot because of his bad temper. Seven of Spades: A card of bad luck and loss. Making hasty decisions out of frustration.

for @pitbabeanniversary week 5 prompts: winner & dean

(more thoughts under the cut!)

disclaimer: i am not an expert in either cartomancy or tarot reading. i did a lot of research on these two sites to come up with these cards for the characters. some of the meanings associated with the cards are still only my own interpretation, so they might not be completely accurate.

when i started this series, i was sure of only two pairs and their colors: babe and charlie would be blue, and winner and dean would be red, just like the team colors. so here we are, the only pair to have only black suits for their cards, ironically depicted in blood red.

winner: i was a little disappointed that there isn't "the biggest asshole" card in the deck, but i guess it makes sense that each card has good and bad sides, just like us humans and our lives have good and bad in them. so, winner gets the "winner card" (i am endlessly amused by winner's nickname when he's such a loser (affectionate) in the series). he gets the card that always reaches for the first place, for the biggest prize.

jack of clubs is the card that approaches everything with great passion and enthusiasm. they have endless energy, so they often participate in some kind of competitive sport. they're confident, courageous, and charming. but they're also arrogant, quick tempered, shallow, and thoughtless. which i think summarizes winner perfectly bc he's almost always insufferable and hard to handle, has a loud mouth, and begs to get punched. also please for the love of god, someone take the gun away from him.

dean: obviously a spade which as a suit is often linked to challenges and obstacles as well as failures and losses. overall, i don't think dean is a bad guy; i know he's trying his best and cares for his pack. he's like a son to alan, and a little brother to north and sonic etc. he just has a lot of ambition and big dreams, and i understand his frustration when it seems that he will be kept from accomplishing anything. he wants to be a star, and it must suck to notice that your efforts don't matter. especially when someone like charlie takes your place from right under your nose seemingly without any effort.

the most fitting thing about the seven of spades for dean is the experience of lacking progress. dean isn't moving forward the way he wanted which eventually leads him into making bad choices and big mistakes. he accepts kenta's offer that dooms him, sets him up for failure and abandonment. i believe him when he says he never meant for charlie to actually die (which he doesn't but dean never gets to know that) bc dean is not evil. he's just a human who feels like he's been treated unfairly and no one seems to recognize that, no one else but tony. it's painful how such things can be so easily used. that's probably why his betrayal completely blindsides the rest of the pack, never realizing how deep dean's disappointment is.

as a pair, i find it most amusing that winner and dean ended up with a ton of parallels linked to the other pairs and their cards. they're a pair of jack and seven just like kenta and kim. winner even has the same suit, clubs, as kim which you can interpret in multiple ways (they're not the same person, but they somehow occupy a similar place in the story, yet approach it differently). meanwhile, dean has the same suit as charlie and they're only two numbers apart. interestingly enough, six of spades that falls between them, is the card of completion and healing. it's the card that represents a quiet, almost stale period in life after something big has happened. it promises better things in the future, but first you need to center yourself again.

none of these parallels were intentional, but i find it fitting that they happened anyway. i can't really see winner and dean as a proper pair bc they don't actually even meet much in the series, but they are tightly connected to the others and all the big events that transpire. maybe it's meant to be then that they connect to the others rather than to each other. they are puzzle pieces and without them, the picture wouldn't be completed.

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pavardscherie · 2 years ago

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― what i deserve ;; pablo gavi & pedri gonzalez ;; part one

⤷ pairing: pablo gavi x f!reader ;; pedri gonzalez x f!reader ⤷ summary: your relationship with gavi ended after he cheated on you. time has passed, pedri always checked up on you with small messages until he invited you to one of the home games. somewhere between losing your heart to pedri; gavi still attempts to get you back. ⤷ warnings: curse words ;; injuries ;; mentions of blood ;; hand around throat ;; explicit sex scenes ;; asshole!gavi ;; cheating ;; violence in fights ;; spanking ;; dom & sub ;; dirty talk ;; teasing ;; very deep feelings & conversations ;; slight triangle thing but not most of the time ;; second chances kinda ;; friends to lovers ;; not proofread & probably horrible written kiss scenes lol ⤷ izzy's notes: first part here we go! it took me so long tbh, but like, i swear i got distracted by pedri (& reading other's imagines about pedri lol). tell me what you think if you want!

Seven Months passed. Multiple calls turned into none. Messages vanished from your lockscreen, and for the first time, when you stared down at your phone, it seemed more like a blessing than torture. The reminders of an unhealthy relationship rested in the back of your mind, stopping the painful memories of being cheated on to resurface.

It’s been almost a month since you found yourself, enjoying casual football games again. Raised by a very determined father, who cheered from the couch or in the middle of the fans for his favorite club, he passed his knowledge to you before he became the beautiful picture in the settling sun.

Avoiding Camp Nou to increase the distance between you and your former boyfriend, the stadium pulled you back one day. It all started with a call, you never expected to receive. On the other side of the line, waited a nervous Pedri with an invitation to one of his home games. After the awful break up with Gavi, the friendship between you and his best friend crumbled quickly.

At least, once in a while, you received a short text message, asking about your well-being but after answering, you never received another. The game of two messages in a month lasted until the surprising call reached you and suddenly, Pedri found himself in your inbox almost each day.

And somehow, even after declining his invitation multiple times in a row, you ended up in the secluded section of the stands, reserved for family members and people close to the players. It was new to you to be treated like a special addition in someone’s life as Gavi never offered you such a seat.

Your little flag draped over the bouncing legs, the anxiety had you trembling. An empty stomach caused your chest to tighten, as your eyes skimmed across the still empty pitch. It would be the first time of seeing Gavi again, after checking his latest social media posts once in a while. Snapchat let you in on the multiple parties he visited over the past months; in each picture another girl with high hopes of feeling his undivided love wrapped around his biceps. It was pathetic in many ways, especially that you still shed a tear while staring at the photo, and compared yourself to the different types of women.

Gavi never really had a particular type. He just enjoyed the thought of having too many gush about him.

Loud music boomed through the stadium, the announcer’s voice mixed with the beat as he welcomed the fans of both teams. After a quick speech about the upcoming match, the team was shown on the large four screen on each side of Camp Nou.

Fans shouted the last names of the players, some louder and some swallowed by the warm air of the early summer day until two faces appeared. Number Thirty, Gavi. His face appeared on the screen, the pillow-like lips without a curl and the arms crossed. He still looked like the guy, you met over a year ago.

Yet, the fans were equally excited when Pedri’s number was shown. Black hair carefully brushed down, the ends of his strands scattered across the forehead and the arms crossed like Gavi had before.

Eyes glued to the screen in front of you, you paid no attention to the players, running onto the pitch in their pre-match jackets and warming up for exhausting ninety minutes without additional time. Discomfort replaced the emptiness, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to stand up, and run out of Camp Nou — away from the upcoming confrontation, and seeing Gavi question Pedri’s intentions.

Nervously, your trembling fingers brushed the loose strands of hair out of the face, attempting to forget about the little voice in the back of your head — shouting at you to run as fast as you could. You were close to the field, almost too close for your liking as it seemed so easy to notice your attendance.

Maybe it was a mistake to show up; even after Pedri’s words turned into a sweet begging. You should have declined his attempts, should have watched the match from home and switching channels quickly when Gavi appeared on the screen. Same routine as the past year.

“I thought you would dodge.” A familiar, gentle voice demanded your attention, the source standing right in front of the stands. Your head snapped around, almost quick enough to tear a muscle, as you were faced with Pedri. A ball tightly in one hand, his lips curled into a sweet smile. Black strands styled upwards on the front, dressed in the Barcelona kit and a pre-match jacket, his eyes glued on you.

“I accepted; how could I dodge then?” Your elbow propped up on your knee to stop the nervous bouncing of your leg, you placed your chin in your palm. “I’m not that mean.” Emphasizing the the second to last word, Pedri’s head dipped down, and chuckled mildly.

“I can’t judge that, it’s been a while.” The ball rolled out of his grip and bounced on the grass until being trapped underneath the studs of his football shoes. “I didn’t tell him, you’re here. He doesn’t really deserve to know about your presence.”

Pedri was Gavi’s best friend, they shared secrets with each other and even trained out of the club together. Through your relationship, you became close friends with Pedri as well. And you were thankful for it, as he forced Gavi into telling you how he messed up that one night. If it wasn’t for Pedri, you still would be trapped in a very toxic relationship with a man, who used your trust for nightly adventures.

“Thank you.” You mouthed, this time letting the small smile tugging on the corners of your mouth break through. “Score a goal for me, yeah?”

Pedri raised a bushy eyebrow, surprised by what you demanded from him after losing contact for way too long. Yet, nothing has changed, you were still irresistible in each possible way for him. Turning away from you to dribble towards the teammates, Pedri glanced over his shoulder for a second time and raised his hand to show you a simple thumbs up. Enough of an answer for the question, as the midfielder found his way to his partner in crime on and off the pitch.

The game was in the hands of Barcelona, holding the ball in their possession the longest, and playing in the half of the enemy team. Close to scoring the lead goal, they stood in the twenty-ninth minute when a particular, harsh foul coaxed a gasp out of your mouth. A frustrated defensive player from Villareal decided to slide-tackle Pedri, the studs on his shoes hitting the ankle of the midfielder with full force instead of the rolling ball.

With a loud scream, filled with pain, Pedri fell to the ground, clutching his ankle between both hands. Pain twisted in his expression, and you jumped up from the seat, throwing your hands in the air. Camp Nou was filled with Barcelona supporters who booed and shouted insults through the stands.

Pedri was the last friend you had left, the last person that actually attempted to ask about your well-being even if he never answered another message until writing again. Seeing him, crumbled, laying on the ground, triggered the bubbled-up anger inside of you.

"Idiots!" You suddenly shouted; the insult rolled off your tongue quicker than you were able to process in your head. The medical team hurried across the field, pushing the Barcelona players out of the way to take a closer look at the ankle. While your eyes glistened with worry, they drifted from the ground to another person, ruffling the hands nervously through the hair and staring down at his best friend. Gavi.

Delicate palms pressed against the cold, silver bars which were used as a railing, you stared at the horrific incident, and how the medical's started to help Pedri off the field. But the midfielder's mind changed with the first steps, shaking his head and hands to explain that he belonged on the pitch; and wanted to stay. The referee behind them, blew his whistle, pointing his fingers annoyed at the watch around his wrist. Waving him off, Pedri hobbled off the field and the game continued quickly. At least three minutes have passed, if not longer, and it would be added at the end of the first half.

Still leaning across the railing, you tried to steal a glance at the coaching bench to see if Pedri was truly doing better, or playing the tough guy while his ankle swelled in a deep navy blue and wine purple. The medical team focused completely on the midfielder, inspecting how harsh the contact was and how strong the pain was. Losing Pedri in the midfield position would be a devastating start into the game.

The match continued, with Barcelona forced to play with one man less; and the opponents immediately tried to use the fact to their advantage. You couldn’t find a second to glance away from the painful twist on Pedri’s face. Eyes squeezed close, the bottom lip assaulted by his teeth as the medic’s pressed their fingers deeply against different spot around his ankle.

Minutes passed, and Xavi decided a substitute for the struggling Pedri was needed on the pitch. Displeased by the quick exchange, he rolled his eyes but swallowed the unattractive curse words which wanted to escape his mouth. Cheerful sounds rang in your ears, the fans around you jumping to their feet with the arms stretched into the warm spring air. Lewandowski once again scored a goal for Barcelona; with an assist from none other than number thirty. Gavi, who ran over to the much taller man, jumping straight on his back for a piggyback ride.

Pedri clapped his hands from the sideline, still seated in the grass while a bandage was wrapped around the swollen ankle; a thick pack of ice hidden between the layers. While the team hugged, and congratulated Robert for another perfect lead goal, Gavi jogged along the sideline towards his best friend for their very own celebration. Head tilted to the side, acknowledging the different aged females that screamed his name in a high-pitched, loud voice, with a wave and a smile.

But the curve of his mouth dropped, when his gaze drifted through the front row of the stands, bathing in the applause; and suddenly, drawn in by your presence.

A black, woolen jacket over the shoulders, the sleeves in your delicate palms. Underneath the thin material of a cardigan was a tight-cropped shirt, showing a small line of exposed skin until the charcoal-colored cargo pants perfected the chosen outfit. Hair, partly in a messy bun, the loose strands falling freely over your shoulders.

An appearance that reminded him of the first nights, you spent together. You were never a person for the tight dresses, or the overusing of makeup, and the confessions immediately drew Gavi in. But this time, your worried gaze wasn’t focused on him, you were staring at the injured man next to the coach’s bench. Concern twisted your features, eyebrows pulled down in a frown when Pedri winced as the ice bag was pressed tighter against the purple marks.

You visited Camp Nou for Pedri; for Gavi’s best friend. Unfortunately, the thought of seeing his mate touch you, kiss you, or even more, bothered him. A sudden wave of jealousy overcame Pablo, turning away from the sidelines as the referee blew the whistle for the third time, and already rummaged through the little pocket on the front of his polo shirt.

Trembling fingers brushed through the damp, chestnut strands as Gavi received the first booking of the night. And all he had left as an answer, was a subtle shrug of his shoulders instead of throwing a fit. He did not understand the sudden, unknown pinches in his heavy-breathing chest, or the reason behind the drifting gaze of his eyes to see if you were still in the stands and not already by Pedri's side.

A trail of thoughts, seeing you with his best friend entangled, bothered his mind and increased the difficulty of focusing solely on the last minutes of the first half. In seconds, he remembered the scent you carried around like a shield of protection, a fruity mixture of raspberries and vanilla. It was never a perfume like he assumed in the beginning, it was just a tube of shower gel. Those memories never bothered his concentration before, all it needed to remind him, was a glance at your face.

The referee blew the whistle once more, ending the first half of the match with a leading goal for Barcelona. And it did not take you longer than a minute to find a way out of the stands and to the catacombs. Your face was a familiar one, the security guards were still the same from the time you were by Gavi's side. An advantage for you, as they casually nodded their heads and let you through to the entrance of the tunnels. Brushing the thin strands out of the face while jogging down the corridor, the hem of your sleeves tightly between the delicate palm and soft fingertips.

Anxiety burst through your body in irregular waves when you reached the entrance to the pitch. Greeted by multiple familiar faces, your unfocused gaze drifted through the crowd, trying to find the injured midfielder. "How ironic." The rough voice twisted your stomach, the all-too-familiar melody, you once loved to listen to for more than six months. Stopping in your tracks, like the soles of your shoes were rooted to the tiled floor, you swallowed the breath you held without notice. Before you had a chance to find Pedri, and assure yourself that the concern was deeply unnecessary, Gavi found your worked-up self. „Can‘t stay away from me, huh?“

Arrogance infiltrated Pablo‘s voice, showing off the admiration he received over the past months as a shield and a new part of his personality. Confidence always lingered in his body, but the way he spoke, wasn’t similar to what you remembered. Teeth gritted, the anger bubbled in the pit of your stomachs. Anger twisted your insides, tainted your gentle heart and attempted to push you into a blinded rage. Accusing him of what he has done, how easily he played with your heart and tossed you away, but the worse part was the way, he tore your soul apart with his lies and words. Delicate fingers clenched into tight fists, the manicured nail dug into the sensitive skin of your palms.

Little needles pierced your heart, and the pain tightened your chest. You wanted to scream at him, make a fool out of yourself in the middle of the faces, you became all too familiar with. Turning around to face the arrogant curve of his mouth, Gavi stood against the wall. Studs against the stones, arms crossed over the Barcelona Jersey with the number thirty and his name. Chestnut strands in a devilish mess, thick hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead but the curl of his lips, the smugness written in the corners was the only part of him, you were able to focus on. It did not matter how attractive he was in any situation, the actions he did turned him into an ugly person for you. "Hermanito, she's not here for you. I invited her to the game." Pedri's gentle voice echoed through the corridor, capturing the attention of the two ex-lovers. Gavi rolled his eyes, tilting the head to the side while yours snapped in the direction of the entrance to the pitch at the first tone.

One arm draped over the shoulders of a medic, Pedri was carried inside on one foot. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, he was still in pain, but he did not intend to show an ounce of it. Pedri's gaze drifted away from the glimpse of annoyance in Gavi's expression, and to your face. Gentle features twisted by emotions, anger, and confusion, but also concern overshadowed the pureness.

„Are you okay?“ Carefully, you took a step towards the injured player, who assured the medic‘s that he was fine enough to walk further on his own. „That looked harsh, is it broken? I hope not.“ You rambled on between questions and expressing your concern as the distance closed between the two of you, and Pedri stepped into your little personal bubble.

Gavi‘s existence was not acknowledged by you anymore, the groan that slipped past his lips swallowed by the thick air in the catacombs. "No, it's swollen but it's nothing too serious. I'm benched for the rest of the game though."

"At least, it's nothing too bad! I almost jumped off the stands after hearing your scream." The words she attempted to hold inside, spilled out of her mouth, and admitted the intense moments of concern she went through. "Don't worry, again." Pedri chuckled, waving the worry away with his hand. "But it's flattering to know that you declined my invitation way too many times, just to sit in the stands weeks later and jump out of your seat because I got tackled.” While Pedri did not leave a second to spare to share a flirtatious comment with you, Gavi swallowed the heavy mixture of breath and oxygen. A lump in the throat, the need to leave the hallways indescribable but his hooded eyes were glued to the scene. Curiosity forced him to stay in his place, curiosity about how far the encounter would evolve.

„Well..“ You trailed off, swaying from your weight from the left to the right while deciding what words to say. „You’re my friend.“ A gentle smile plastered over your face as the answer slipped out so easily. But what you didn’t see, was the little flinch in Pedri‘s proud posture, the way he almost considered taking a step back and leaving your personal bubble again after hearing the word friend. For him, you were always irresistible, he never understood how his best friend chose hundreds of others when the perfect example of a caring girlfriend was right in front of him.

But the scene, the awkwardness that unfolded between the two of you caused a loud laugh to slip out of Gavi‘s mouth. Suddenly, he was relieved that he stayed to witness how you called him a friend with such ease. “All that work for being pushed into the friend zone again.“ He clapped his hands together, pushing himself off the wall to walk towards the changing rooms. „Maybe, she‘s still too much into me, hermanito.“ Pablo disappeared, including himself in the round of multiple conversations between his teammates. Thoughts vanished when you confessed Pedri was just another friend; leaving you alone with him in the corridor suddenly did not bother Gavi anymore. Satisfied by your words, satisfied to see that you just could not move on from what he gave you, plastered a wide smirk across his face. At least Pablo told himself that you weren’t able to leave him in the past to smooth his growing ego. Glimpses of confidence and pride written over the curl of his mouth.

"Maybe, you can watch the second half from the stands with me?" You fiddled with the ties on your cargo pants, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. Gavi's words triggered another wave of pure anger, and it was difficult to decide if calling Pedri a friend was the wrong or a good choice. "Just you know, if your coach allows it." Shrugging the shoulders, asking such a question felt oddly weird. And waiting for an answer gave rise to your nervousness.

"I have to change first, then there shouldn't be a reason not to be able to." Asking for his company in the stands, with the almost invisible watermelon-pink tint across the span of your cheeks, allowed another spark of hope to ignite in Pedri's stomach.

Taking a liking to his best mate's ex-girlfriend wasn't the greatest move, but Pablo knew the best, that Pedri fancied you for much longer than he actually said. With a quick nod, the injured midfielder stumbled into the changing room and immediately received a warm welcome, and questions about his foot from his teammates. Except for his best friend, Gavi stayed in the corner of the room, drowning a bottle of water while his intense glare never left Pedri's smiling face. And the number thirty of the Barcelona Football Club was the first to leave the locker room again, leaving behind a confused Balde, and stumbling straight into your gaze again.

Somehow, his features moved on their own. Furrowed brows relaxed, and the corners of his mouth lifted, much to your dismay. “You could have done anything.” Gavi pointed a single finger at you, closing the distance with slow steps. The woolen cardigan suddenly felt too warm, too tight wrapped around your numb limbs at the sight. For months, you avoided social media, the news and even football as a whole to not come in contact with regret. Remorse for not answering his incoming text messages about spending time together again, the multiple question marks that filled your inbox and even worse, the filthy words he sent without hesitation, which your body accepted and reacted to way too quickly. “And yet, you chose my best friend as a reasonable excuse to watch me again.”

Shaking your head to answer his words without having to use your trembling voice, defending the leftovers of your pride, you failed ultimately when Gavi caged you between his sweaty body and the cold brick wall. Calloused palm placed beside your head, he used his free one to let his warm fingertips dance over the span of your cheeks. “Still so beautiful, even after I ruined you so many times.” The whispers triggered the memories, the moments you locked away in your mind — yet, not deeply enough for Gavi to easily access them.

Nights, you spent at his newly bought house. Wrapped tightly in the comfort of the black blanket, his naked chest pressed against your bare, arched back. Rough fingertips dug into the sensitive skin around your throat, pressing your windpipe barely together. It was never meant to hurt you, the ecstasy was his greatest reason. His hips snapped against your ass, diving deeper into the warmth of your walls. Moans filled the in darkness drowned bedroom, the dim light of the moon illuminating the side of your face. Lids fluttered close, just like those nights when Gavi was in the mood to ruin you.

But he chuckled, nonchalantly and pulled your mind out of the daydream that played like a movie in front of your closed eyes. Forcing the lids open, your pupils dilated in slight shock. Months of preparation weren’t enough to decline Gavi any access to your mind. But what was worse was the rapid pace of your heartbeat or the painful hammering against your rib cage that he was able to feel. The hand on your cheek started to travel south, fingertips caressed along your jaw, over the side of your throat, and towards your chest. Palm softly pressed against the material of your shirt, fitting perfectly between your breasts, his lips curled upwards in satisfaction when your heart boomed against his sprawled-out hand. „Still the same reaction and yet, you think Pedri could offer you what I‘ve given you.“ Head tilted to your height, just a couple of centimeters smaller than him, his warm breath fanned over your glossy lips

"Tell me that you're still mine, carino." Gavi muttered into the thin air that was caught between your mouth and his. Shaking your head with the last bit of willpower, and the unsettling feeling of shame in the pit of your stomach as he played his little mind games with you, your lips brushed over his repeatedly but never closed the gap. „You ruined me one too many times, darling.“ You hissed, wiggling yourself out of his trap and stepping to the side as the door to the locker room opened, and multiple players walked outside. It was the last piece of self-confidence that slipped out of your mouth and defended your honor. Mistakes were made, repeated way too often and kept as long-term secrets throughout the relationships. Gavi's disrespect to you as a woman was enough to turn him into an unattractive person. Yet, you questioned yourself if the sentence you spoke, wasn't too harsh.

Suddenly, your shoes became an interesting view to avoid Gavi's lingering gaze and the quick glances of the passing players. But Pedri's appearance went by unnoticed, his white sneakers the first thing you see. Taking in his body, the left hem of his cargo pants settled underneath his knee to decrease the pressure on the swollen ankle, the charcoal color an extravagant sight on his tanned skin. Paired with a hoodie, he adjusted the pieces of clothing to the warm weather, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A small black bag underneath his arm, keeping the most important essentials like his phone, and money inside of it. "You look a little flushed." Pedri used one of his hands to show with his long fingers the strawberry red tint across your cheeks, on his own face. Unfortunately, his words did not help to calm down your irregular breathing, or the intense pounding in your chest.

Any second longer at Camp Nou spread the discomfort in your body, shifting the weight from your left foot to the right to overshadow how much you trembled from the minutes with Gavi alone. Telling Pedri about his best friends' assault on his former lover would be absurd, after all, he was just a piece between Pablo and you. A friend for the two of you, but quietly cheering for your side. Clothes, way too tightly wrapped around your heavy limbs. Pedri's gentle face, radiating too much for your comfort.

"I think, I might just skip." You muttered, tilting the head to the side to avoid witnessing how the disappointment and the surprise twisted Pedri's features. Guilt bubbled in the pit of your stomach, inviting the midfielder first and then immediately taking back your words, and wanting to leave the stadium. Just in the span of five minutes, the glimpse of hope in Pedri's body vanished. Your sudden confession was a surprise to him, already attempting to find the mistakes he made that caused any discomfort to your figure. But the search never found a reasonable result. "Oh, I can sit at the coach's bench if you don't want to watch the game with me, it's fine." Pedri suggested immediately, trying to take the blame for the ways she felt without knowing what kind of emotions mixed in the pit of her stomach. "What?" You reacted quickly, the question tumbling out of your mouth as your eyebrows rose in confusion. Just for a simple second, you were clueless why he offered such a proposition but it hit you quickly.

"You said, you want to skip." Pedri's calloused palm placed over his neck, the fingertips scratching over the small hair and tanned skin. "I guess, you meant watching the game with me."

"Oh my gosh." You facepalmed yourself, letting your soft hand caress over you face. Strawberry red tint spread further across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, showcasing a sign of shame. "I didn't mean watching the game together, it was more about the entire second half. I think I will skip the rest of the game, I don't really feel prepared enough to watch Pablo longer than needed after his rude interruption." Palm pressed to your flushed cheek, your tried to hide the hues of bright crimson red tainting your smooth skin.

“Oh.” Pedri chuckled, a very calm and light-hearted sound as the relief washed over him. “Understood. He can be a real pain in the ass.” Since Gavi transferred to Barcelona Football Club underaged, and him and Pedri became best mates. Driving as the passenger of the midfielder’s forest green mini became a ritual, the fans always knowing if they saw Pedri’s car, Gavi wouldn’t be way too far. “I really hope you don’t mind. Maybe next time, the circumstances are better.” You almost apologized for looking after yourself once again, offering Pedri a gentle smile as you turned around to leave the cursed corridors of Camp Nou.

“I can drive you home.” Pedri was quick with his suggestion, taking a step forward to wrap his long fingers around your wrist and stop the distance from growing. The little contact; just the way his warm fingertips carefully pressed against your pulsating veins, caused another blush to creep its way across the span of your cheeks and increase the heat that already put your body on flames.

Like the watermelon pink attempted to tell you that the ignited fire wasn't a usual feeling. Admiration resurfaced, the slight crush you had on the midfielder before Gavi asked you out prominent in the way your face twisted. Letting the sensation linger, the warmth spread over your skin, you tried to tug your arm away from his embrace. Instead of another attempt to convince you of his offer, Pedri's finger loosened, your limb slipping out of his grip and out of reach, without taking a step forward. "Only if you feel comfortable enough to share a car with me." Pedro added to his suggestion, witnessing how your body language changed. Muscles tensed with his touch, your voice barely audible as your heavy breaths overshadowed the words. And for merely a moment, Pedri questioned the way he almost tried to persuade you into spending time with him — even if it was just a lame car ride.

Delicate and soft palms wiped over your face, probably ruining the layers of make up you covered your blemished skin with. Choosing Pedri’s company could be a chance to feel a moment of mild comfort again. After all, he cared enough for your well-being to ask many, many times. Even when you decided not to answer the first text messages because you thought Gavi would be the reason behind the sudden interest. But it wasn’t, it has never been. “Sure, it’s better than being alone right now.” You accepted with hesitation as your mind traveled through the worst-case scenarios. While you walked through the corridors towards the parking lot where the signature green mini waited, you heard how the fans chanted Gavi’s name like a beautiful melody as another goal extended the lead. Another ball hitting the back of the net, another time number thirty scored for Barcelona.

Bathing in the applause, the attention and how needy the girls at the front of the stands tried to reach out, Gavi smiled at the cameras. The curl of his mouth plastered across his face, the burst of happiness faded when the drifting gaze of his deep hazelnut orbs didn’t find your face in the crowd. Empty seats in the secluded section, his head snapped to the coach’s bench to find Pedri. But his best mate was missing too.

Unfortunately, the realization and the negative thoughts forced Gavi into a wave of blinded rage. He knew immediately, he would leave the pitch with another booking — just no one knew if it would be a simple yellow as usual, or a deeply crimson red one.

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teawitch · 2 years ago

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Classical Correspondences

"Correspondences are just things people made up." various tumblr blogs

Working with a local witch community, one thing I've noticed is that a lot of witches coming from very (sometimes very very) Christian background haven't really been exposed to "Classical" education in the sense of Greek, Roman and Medieval history and thought, except for a sort of biblical overview.

This is the Bible belt and often the question isn't - "Well, you've read Greek mythology, right?" but "were you permitted to read Greek mythology?" Which has left a big gap in the foundational understanding of where some of our witchcraft and broader magical work comes from, including those correspondence lists you see everywhere.

In broad terms, the Egyptians influenced the Greeks who influenced the Romans who influenced the early Christian church and most of medieval Europe. This gives a sort of historical and geographical foundation for our Classical Correspondences. And a lot of other things but right now, let's just look at correspondences.

The periods above give us a long history of men (and sometimes women, but honestly, this was mostly an old boys club) looking at the universe and saying "how does all this fit together?"

In an attempt to answer that question, they started looking at connections between things to try to understand them. Why does valerian smell that way? Why does camomile also make you feel relaxed? Are these two related somehow? Can we find a way to organize them?

Isn't that what botany does? At least for plants?

Yes. And we can see that because both these plants fall under the influence of Jupiter they are kingly, helpful, and aromatic, imparting a feeling of relaxation and expansion.

Umm, Tea, it doesn't say that in my botany textbook.

You have the wrong textbook. You need Culpepers Complete Herbal which is the culmination of all the plant knowledge you'll every need. Says so in the title - Complete. And it was published during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, so you know it's up to date. Queen Elizabeth the First. A time of great scientific progress. (its free on Project Gutenberg) Though of course Culpeper worked from reliable sources like Aristotle. And Pliny the Elder, who wanted to categorize everything. (Pliny is probably best known on Tumblr for that elephant religion post that makes it's way around now and then. Pliny is not a reliable source for elephant religion or, well, other topics. But I digress.)

Let's break things down a bit. By Jupiter we mean the planet Jupiter, not the god. (Though Jupiter does fall under Jupiter). The Romans categorized according to the seven ruling planets - Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn - with additional influence from the four Greek elements - earth, air , fire, water as well as the astrological signs. They assigned properties to each of these that fit with their view of that planet/element/sign. Jupiter is kingly, along with other properties.

You take everything - plants, metals, gem stones, colors, parts of the body, emotions - and you figure out which ruling planet they fall under and you have a system of correspondences based on the planetary properties. (Venus for love, Mars for courage and strength, Mercury for speed and communication, etc.)

Tea - you're missing a couple of planets and the sun and moon aren't planets.

These are the 7 classical planets or the 7 wandering stars. These were the seven things that could be seen with the naked eye and didn't follow the fixed pattern of the stars. From the Greek word meaning "to wander". We are standing on earth so obviously it's not wandering around the sky. (We have correspondences for Uranus, Neptune and Pluto that were added later)

Got it. So they developed a system of correspondences using the classical planets and used it for witchcraft?

Of course not. From the Romans onward, witchcraft was generally illegal. (Greece disapproved but the laws were a bit different.) So no one would have developed an expansive system of correspondences for witchcraft and made it public.

These were scientific. And for medicine. And, well, for occult practices that were definitely not witchcraft! (Look up high magic vs low magic but basically, it was an economic difference and being poor was bad.)

The important part was - this was science. It had rules. It had structure. They didn't just randomly assign meanings to plants. They developed an entire system of classification and examined each plant to decide where it fit under that system. Sometimes plants could fall under multiple planets. Sometimes different parts of a plant fell under a different influence. And when used in medicine, what ruling influences the patient fell under could affect the treatment.

I don't want to use them.

It's hard to avoid them. They come into witchcraft through Western Ceremonial Magic but also through pure practicality. See, some of them work remarkably well, possibly because of the medical aspect of things. In medicine there had to a be a probability of success because if everyone died, no one would use them.

And from a witchcraft perspective - a lot of them make sense to the way we work. Plants with hallucinatory properties are often classified as Lunar and fall under the Moon. Spicy and hot plants fall under Mars. Pretty, sweet smelling flowers fall under Venus. These are already connections most of us have. It's also culturally an open system. Remember, it was considered science and medicine in its day. Anyone can reference and use planetary correspondences in their work.

I think personal correspondences would be stronger.

Possibly, over time and for the person involved. Personal and cultural correspondences build up a resonance in the cultural or with the person, but that resonance may not transfer well to others. Planetary correspondences have had a long time to develop that resonance and are broadly used, so that resonance is considered to transfer well to the working of others. They are simply a good base for publicly shared work.

#witchcraft #witchblr #beginner witch #baby witch #teawitch #foundational witchcraft #babywitch

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hopefulromances · 1 year ago

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Long Time Coming I Chapter 17 I It's Been A Long Time Coming

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football prodigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Read the end note for more.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warning: The most canon divergent I get (roykeeley endgame forever), a little more self-indulgent than usual, some more heated content but nothing smutty, I'm just sad y'all

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve 13 14 15 16

Change was in the air. A lot of things were changing. There was a lot of good change. Nate was back! He was just working with Will right now, but I could already tell he was different from how he left. He apologized to me for all the nasty things he had said and done. I was a little wary at first, but Jamie reminded me that I’d given him a second chance and Nate deserved one too.

Another good change was that Roy and Keeley had officially gotten back together. Much to the relief of everyone else in the club who couldn’t bear to see them apart. It was nice to have another couple around our age to go out with. We already had a double date set up for the week after the last game.

Then, of course, there was some not so good change. When Ted told Roy and I that he and Beard would be leaving at the end of the season, I almost passed out. My personal plans aside, I’d never done this without him, and I didn’t know if I wanted to. But Ted assured both of us that the club was in good hands with the two of us. Many tears were shed and that was before we told the team.

Roy and I went out alone that night. I told Jamie that we had some stuff to plan but really, the two of us just needed to be with each other.

“What was Ted going on about?” Roy asked, taking a long sip of his beer. “About not letting his decision get in the way of any plans we might have?”

I shrugged, playing with my cocktail, trying to be inconspicuous. But, as usual, Roy could see right through me.

“I haven’t figured out all the details,” I said, finally. “But… yeah… something’s planned, a bit.”

I expected him to be cross with me for leaving him to deal with the changes alone, but he wasn’t. He just lifted his glass towards me.

“To big fucking changes,” he offered.

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. “To big fucking changes.”

“And you know,” he stopped me before I could take a sip. “We’re always here for you. Not just me, the whole fucking team would die for you.” It was very sweet. Roy being vulnerable with me for a second. “Don’t go getting all… fucking… emotional on me, (Y/N).”

“You know what this means, Roy.”

“We are not fucking, hugging.”

“Oh, yes we are.”

I when I got home that night, Jamie was there waiting for me. We always ended up at each other’s houses somehow or another though we promised we wouldn’t move in together until after the end of the season. But there he was waiting for me anyways, washing dishes in the kitchen.

“Hey, babe, how was grandad?” he asked, finishing up the plate he was washing.

I smiled at it, at the domestic nature of the act, at the thought of walking home to Jamie every day for the rest of my life. I walked up and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back.

“Was good,” I answered, rubbing my head on his skin.

“Now who’s acting like a cat?” He rumbled, smirking as he looked back at you.

I hummed a giggle, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade before letting go again. I leaned against the island and waited for him to finished up. He threw the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at me.

“What?” Jamie questioned, smirking.

“What?” I returned.

“You got a funny look on your face,” he told me, reaching out to pinch my cheek. “Look all spacey.”

I batted his hand away, shaking my head. “No… it’s just,” I rubbed at my chin. “There’s a lot of change happening right now… isn’t there.” Jamie cocked his head at me, motioning for me to continue. “Well… Ted and Beard are leaving, Nate’s back, Roy and Keeley are back together – which is great – but… it’s just a lot.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah… it is. Was there anything else… that was changing… that you might want to tell me?”

Jamie had come to know me very well. Too well for my comfort sometimes. He could tell there was something going on in my head, something I wasn’t telling him. But that was something I still didn’t want to share quite yet, wasn’t ready to share.

“No, I’m just same old me,” I grinned, stepping forward to slot myself between his legs. His mouth dropped into that lazy smile that drove me mad. I took a shaky breath and nodded at him. “And we… we’re not changing? Yeah?”

“I don’t plan on changing a thing,” He quipped, wrapping his arms low around my hips. “That is… unless we’re changing the amount of clothes you’re wearing.” He tugged at my pants slightly, drawing a laugh from me. Safe to say, no matter what else changed, we would be okay.

The final day of training came and went. The boys put on their show for Ted and Beard, who loved it, of course. There was so much movement happening all around the locker room. I sat in the crook of Jamie’s leg that he kept propped up on the bench as we chatted with Cockburn and Dixon when Keeley walked in with her usual cheerful greeting.

I took a moment to look around the room. At the team, and the coaches, and the people, walking in and out. It felt so different. So different from the locker room I’d seen three years ago. It felt much more alive and warmer, inviting people to come join the family. I felt a pang of nostalgia for it already, and there I was, sitting in the moment.

It felt like the end of something. It was the end of the season sure, but it was more than that. With Ted leaving and the future so unsure, it was really the end of an era at Richmond. The Lasso era was ending. And I missed it already.

Jamie and Roy went out that night for a drink. Jamie was practically bouncing, excited that Roy had invited him out and was going to allow him to drink a single beer. So, I took the opportunity to go to Keeley’s to discuss my plans with her.

I arrived at Keeley’s doorstep that night. If anyone would be able to help me figure out the logistics of this, it’d be her. I hadn’t told anyone else about this idea, just Ted and the very vague conversation I’d had with Jamie.

“(Y/N)!” Keeley squeal when she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi Keeley,” I greeted, smiling. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

It didn’t take long, only about an hour of chatting for us to figure out how to go about the plan. Keeley had been so excited, jumping on board immediately, grabbing her notebook to jot down some notes and start sketching some logo ideas.

“Do you think Rebecca will go for it?” I asked, nervously.

“Go for it? She’ll love it!” Keeley enthused. She sipped on her wine. “Is this why you’ve been so weird at training and such. Cause it’s not just Ted and Beard leaving?”

“Acting weird?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Is that way Roy said?”

Keeley smirked. “Said you were plotting something.”

“Yeah, his death for starters,” I laughed, grinning. Keeley let out a cackle that only she could make. Our laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. I looked at the clock, it was late, later than a random passerby. “Did you order food?”

“No, I thought you did,” Keeley shrugged, scooting her chair back.

At the door was Roy and Jamie, and from the looks of it, they’d been in some sort of scuffle.

“My word, what’s happen to you two?” I cried as Keeley opened the door.

Jamie’s nose was bleeding, his head tilted back slightly as he pinched the bridge and Roy’s shirt had been nearly torn off. They had other bumps and bruises across their bodies, and I honestly couldn’t believe it. We finally sat them down at Keeley’s table, Keeley and I sat next to each other facing Roy and Jamie.

“All right, are you gonna tell us what happened?” Keeley asked, handing Roy an ice pack. I handed Jamie a fresh tissue, wiping his face with my thumb, even as he tried to duck away from me.

“Better be a cool story, or else this is just sad,” I echoed, pulling back from Jamie finally.

Jamie looked over at Roy who shrugged, gesturing for Jamie to start.

“We got in a fight,” Jamie started.

“About the two of you,” Roy finished.

Keeley and I looked at each other a bit incredulous before replying in unison. “Why!?”

“Well, we was just talking about the trip to Brazil coming up that the four of us are going on, and I was saying how great Keeley was at her job,” Roy explained, smiling at Keeley.

“And I was saying how you’re fantastic at your job, too, (Y/N),” Jamie followed up quickly. “How you had improved the team so much this season, the lads really respect you.”

Roy shook his head and turned to look at Jamie. “And I was saying how, of course, I thought you were good at your job, but Keeley runs her own PR firm, she’s fucking next level.”

Jamie growled and turned to face Roy. “But (Y/N) is the first female coach in the whole premier league, and she’s the only Captain from the Imperial girls’ team to win three straight championships.”

Roy leaned forward to get in Jamie’s face. “But Keeley is who makes (Y/N) look good. Keeley makes all of us look good.:

Jamie matches him immediately. “But (Y/N) makes sure there is good stuff to make look good.”

“Oh my GOD!” I shout out, slamming my hands on the table. Roy and Jamie flinch away from each other. “Did you really get in a fist fight to try and prove which one of us was better?” I pointed between Keeley and myself.

The boys shrugged, answering me without saying a word.

“Are you joking?” Keeley reared. “Like are you seriously joking?”

She and I looked at each other. Without another word, we kicked the boys out and returned to our wine night.

I returned home later that night to find Jamie on the couch, munching on a chicken kebab, his nose stuffed with tissues. I shook my head as I came down to sit next to him.

“You are ridiculous, you know that?” I chuckled, taking the kebab from him. He let out a grunt of protest but didn’t stop me from taking a bite.

“Oi, I had to wrestle Roy for that one,” he settled me into his side, his arm wrapping around me.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was WrestleMania tonight,” I gaped shaking my head. I brought a hand up and mussed his hair. “What were you thinking? Getting in a fight with Roy.”

“I was defending your honor,” He defended, grabbing my hand to pull it away from his head. “Don’t see the harm in it, just guys being dudes.”

I almost choked on my kebab. “Guys being dudes? You really have lots it.”

He smiled and pulled me into him, turning the TV on. I leaned back against his shoulder, staring at the screen, chewing on the latter half of his kebab. Now was the time.

“Jamie, I’m quitting coaching.”

“What?” He flew up from his seat, knocking me to the side. “What’re you doing that for? Is it Nate? Did he say something? Or Roy? I’ll kill them both!”

“No! No, Jamie listen.” I grabbed his hands, coaxing him to sit back down. “It’s not anyone else… it’s me. It’s what I’ve been… planning.”

Jamie frowned, his eyes looking into mine for answers. “You’re not gonna coach me anymore?”

I felt my heart break just a little at his pitiful tone. I brought my hand up to his face, holding his neck in my grasp.

“No, Jamie… I’m not. I’m not going to coach anyone,” I started to explain. “See, what I realized, the part of coaching I’m good at is the playing bit. Understanding the players and how they think. It helped Ted a lot but… I’m not a coach. I’m a player.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You want to play? You’re gonna join a women’s team?”

“Yeah?” I worried my bottom lip as he processed. Why was I afraid? Was he going to disapprove, god was this like with Matt all over again? “Is that okay?”

“Okay?” His eyes lit up so bright. “That’s amazing.”

He lifted me up, spinning me around in his arms. I held on tightly, afraid to fall, even though Jamie would never let me fall. He placed me down in front of him, gripping my waist.

“How fucking amazing is it that we’ll be the two best players in our leagues,” He mused, grinning widely. “Who you going to play for? I ‘spose Arsenal’s the closest for the women’s or Reading but you can do better than Reading.”

“You’re assuming I’ll get to pick!” I laughed.

He made a pursed his lips and shrugged. “Obviously, they’ll all be after you, won’t they.”

“Well, uh, the thing is, actually,” I looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt to distract myself. “That’s what I was talking to Keely about. I’m gonna convince Rebecca to start a women’s team at Richmond.”

Again, Jamie processed. Then he lifted me up again, twirling me around, cackling like mad.

“You’re brilliant, you are, you know that?” He kisses me then, passionately in a way I’d never felt before. My breath gets pushed out of me as my hands flail to hold on to him. He kisses me again, slowly, before pulling back. “I love you.”

I look at him, wide-eyed, panting. “I love you, too.”

He smiled at me smugly, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. He reached down and lifted me up over his shoulder, carrying me off towards the bedroom.

“Jamie!” I cried happily, banging on his back. “Put me down!”

“Oh, I’ll put you down,” he sneered, plopping me down onto the mattress. He crawled over my body, anticipation growing with in me as I propped myself up onto my elbows. He took his time reaching me, his lips ghosting over my skin. Up my chest, my neck, until they hovered over my lips, just out of reach of mine. “My girl…”

He kissed my cheek, nose nudging mine like he liked to do. I tried to press up and kiss him, but he pulled back, what a tease.

“Jamie,” I frowned, whining. I pulled on his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he murmured, pushing me down so I was flat on the bed. “I just wanna look at ya.” His hand travelled down my body before coming back up to rest on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb. “You’re amazing.”

I felt so soft under his praise, under his touch as he admired me. But it wasn’t just my body he was admiring it, it was me. All of me. And when he finally kissed me, it felt like the sun was filling my body with its warmth.

The day of the final game came, West Ham, again. This time under George Cartwick, the bastard. But I didn’t feel more normal anxiety about such an important game. Yeah, this game could solidify our ranking within the league, but I didn’t feel too worried. Win or lose, we’d shown the whole country exactly what we could do.

I carried the box from Zava in my grasp, using my legs to readjust my grip as I waved to Laughing Liam.

“Hello, lads,” I greeted as I walked into the locker room. The room erupted in a choral of hellos and greetings.

“What’ve you got there?” Colin asked, coming over to help me set the box down.

I dusted my hands off, starting to open it up. “It’s a care package from, Zava.”

The locker room groaned, and I smirked, sneaking a glance at Jamie who seemed quite pleased with the response.

No,” Dani spoke up from behind me, quite firm. “Thank you, but no. I will not let him hurt me again.”

“Ooh, it’s t-shirts!” Will smiled, reaching across me to get one.

“Can I have two, please?” Dani decided.

I shook my head, moving away from the box to reach out for Jamie. He pulled me towards him, chuckling at the antics, wrapping his arms around me to pull my back against his chest, my hands crossing in front of my body as I held onto him.

“Oh, oh!” Colin exclaimed. “There’s a card.” He reached in and grabbed a card out of it. “’My brothers.’” The boys laughed. “’Good luck against West Ham. Please enjoy the T-shirts and this avocado from my farm. Never forget, I am always inside you, Zava.’”

“What, he sent us one avocado?” Jamie questioned, his lips right by my ear.

Bumbercatch lifted the avocado from box and held it up so we could all see it. It was giant. I felt Jamie freeze in surprise.

“Holeh guacamoleh,” he shuttered out. “Show me that, bro.”

He let go of me to grab the avocado, staring at it in awe. I laughed, shaking my head.

The beginning of the game was a little rocky, probably due to the video that Beard had made, sending the whole team into a sobbing frenzy. The first half quarter was a stalemate, but Jamie was keeping them on their toes, controlling the field with his excellent strategic passes. Nevertheless, Westham managed to score, twice before the half.

The boys were buzzing during the half, talking and strategizing with one another. It was a stark difference from the team I started with. That team would be silent, brooding, angry about what was going wrong. But this team still had hope, they still had believe.

Ted emerged from his den to address the team.

“Well, fellas, we got our work cut out for us in the second half. But you know, I’ll get to all that in a minute.” I went over to my spot next to Roy, crossing my arms as I looked over the group.

“No, uh, right now, all I wanna do is let you gentlemen know what an absolute honor it's been to be your coach. Getting to work with y'all these last three years has truly been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I've loved getting to know each and every single one of you. Learning all about the men you were and getting a front-row seat to see the men… and women you all have become “

He looked over at me and I nodded, swallowing a thick ball of sadness in my throat.

“A-And I wanna thank you for your patience with me. You know, when I showed up here, I didn't know one thing about soccer. But now... Well, now I know at least one thing about football.”

We let out a chuckle, though it was well watery I could tell. He continued.

“I'm just so gosh damn proud to be a part of this team. You know? And I love you guys. I'm gonna miss y'all." My heart swelled. I didn't want to say goodbye. I swiped at a tear that had escaped my eyes.

"Now, regarding this second half... Yeah, I don't know what's gonna happen. You know what I mean? No one does. Sports would be a lot less fun if we did. You know? And you all would probably make a lot less money, so... You know? We don't wanna know the future. No, no, we wanna be here right now. And look, I-I know we're down a couple goals. But I'm telling you, man, if y'all play hard, play smart, play together and just, you know... Just do what y'all do, and we'll go out with the peace of mind knowing we did our best. That we tried. Yeah?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Hm. All right. Anybody else have something to say?”

“Coach.” Sam spoke up.

“Yeah, Sam, what you got?”

Sam stood up and grabbed something from his locker, pulling out a small piece of yellow paper. Then Jamie stood up, pulling out a book from his locker that had a similar yellow piece of paper sticking out of it. Soon the whole team was grabbing things from their lockers and pulling out their own yellow pieces.

I sighed and reached into my pocket and found my wallet. I had a polaroid of Jamie and I, sitting at Sam’s restaurant, and taped on the back was my own piece of yellow paper. I held it up and walked over to where the boys were placing their pieces.

Soon there was a clutter of pieces all mixed up. The boys stared at it a second, wondering what was wrong with it. Then they moved into action, putting it back together like a puzzle. I smiled at Roy who shook his head and chuckled.

Finally, the sign was back together. The torn up believe sign put back together by the team that made it a reality. I’d missed the sign. Missed it more than I knew.

“And there it is,” Ted mused, smiling at it. “Number four. Yeah?”

The fourth rule of total football. Believe. Believing in this team and the people in it. Believing in change and love and friendship. Believing in the fact that victory was within our grasp. Believe was filling this room. Starting from when Ted first stepped foot in the locker, infecting the place with his positivity. Now the room, and the whole stadium was filled with it, so even when he was gone, we’d keep it going. Believe.

“Alright, let’s bring it in.”

We walked in together, Jamie standing right behind me so he could keep one hand on my hip while the other went in for the huddle.

“I know they folks like to say, ‘there’s no place like home,’” Ted looked around the circle, at our team. “That’s true. You know. But man, there ain’t a whole lot of places like AFC Richmond either.” I let out a shaky laugh, the team following in suit. He addressed Isaac. “Richmond on three. One, two, three…”

“RICHMOND.”

The second half feels more electric than before. More shots on the goal, with only one getting in from Jamie. The stadium erupted in cheers as Jamie scored, giving the crowd a shred of hope for Richmond’s chances.

Jamie gets in again losing his mark and heading for a second goal when he’s tackled. It’s a weak tackle and Jamie certainly played it up but it got us our penalty.

“That’s it,” I muttered, nodding at Ted.

It took a second, Jamie passing the ball over to Dani who then passed it to… Isaac.

“Oh, what the fuck,” I grunted, rolling my eyes. I loved Isaac, I really did, but I was certain he’d never even made a penalty before.

Isaac went for the shot, and it flew into the stands, causing a groan to go across the field. It wasn’t the end of the world but equalizing certainly would have been helpful. But then the referee went back to look at the net before turning around and signaling a goal.

I laughed and let out a cheer, patting Roy’s shoulder.

“Who fucking knew,” I gaped.

“Apparently, Dani,” Roy answered.

This wasn’t the end; we still had another goal to get but victory was just in reach. The game came to a halt as the grounds crew came out to fix the goal. Jamie jogged over to me, an excited look on his face.

“How mint was that, eh, babe?” He asked, excitedly.

I shook my head handing him a water bottle. “You could have made that easily.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, downing the water.

As he did, I noticed Rupert on the field. Yes, Rupert Manion, as in the owner of West Ham, walking on the field like a villain from a Bond movie.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Jamie snorted, watching the man.

“Don’t know…” I murmured back. “But I’m going to find out, cover for me?”

Jamie nodded at me, turning back to the coaches, as I tried to wander over inconspicuously I made it seem like I was going to fill up my water bottle, trying to get within ear shot of whatever conversation they were having.

“Tartt is out there doing whatever he fucking wants.” Rupert growled.

Oh. I see.

“Yeah, but I’ve got two players on him already,” Cartwick responded. He looked terrified, and Rupert pressed further.

“Take him out.” I stiffened, looking that way, as subtly as possible. No way he was implying what I thought he was.

“Are you joking?” Cartwick retorted.

I looked back towards Jamie. If anyone got near him, I would kill them. I’d kill them with my bare hands.

“Get rid of him.”

I was gripping the water bottle in my hand so tight I thought it would break. Water started overflowing, getting my arm wet but I couldn’t move. I thought that if I did I would go over and punch Rupert right across his stupid face.

“I’m not playing the game like that,” George finally being a good person for once in his useless life.

“You do what I say, or you are done,” Rupert threatened.

George started to reply when there was a thump that sounded, and I looked over finally. Rupert had pushed George to the ground, sending him flying and, unfortunately, revealing both of his testicles.

I flinched away, finally walking back over to our side. Jamie collected me, pulling me away from Rupert, even though we were already far enough.

“What a fucking wanker,” he grumbled.

The crowd seemed to agree as Rupert started to walk off the field, shouting it at him over and over. Part of me felt bad for him- oh wait no it didn’t. He’d threatened Jamie Tartt. The love of my life, and I thought he deserved a lot worse than a bad name.

“Everything alright?” Jamie seemed to notice my tense mood.

I looked back over at him, shaking my head. “Yeah, fine, just go out and smash it, yeah? Watch your left kick, you’re holding back.”

“Heard,” he nodded, agreeing. “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” I imitated thinking. “I love you, and when you win, we’re gonna have banger sex tonight.”

He grinned wickedly at me. “Now that sounds like a plan?”

I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but we weren’t exactly public yet. Keeley said it would probably be a bad idea, might look bad for a coach to be dating their player. We weren’t a secret exactly either, but just private.

“Go,” I pressed, pushing him away from me. He nodded, sending me a look that I could read. I love you, you’re amazing, thank you. I chewed my lip and nodded at him as well. I love you, too, go smash it.

The Hammers got control of the ball quickly and it seemed like they’d scored a pull-ahead goal but, as Ted pointed out, they had been offsides. That had been close, too close. We needed something. Jamie was trying to keep up his role as engineer, but he had been completely boxed in.

“Okay. Come on. Talk to me, geese,” Ted brought is in.

We needed something they wouldn’t expect right now. Beard and Roy rattled off some plays, but I closed my eyes trying to picture the field, what I would be looking for. Jamie was who everyone was expecting to make a play, so we had to use him somehow, maybe as… as a fucking decoy.

I opened my eyes and saw Ted looking at me. I could tell he’d just made the same connection I had.

“Do you think it’ll work?” He asked me, cocking his head.

“Definitely,” I stated, nodding firmly.

“Alright, hold on,” he called over to Nate, getting him to come over to us before calling out to the boys. “Here hold this.” He mimed handing something to Nate, who took the invisible object. “IT’S AN OSCAR!” He shouted to the boys, giving Nate some instruction on how to hold it. “OR THE ESPY”

That seemed to resonate with the boys as they nodded finally, discussing amongst themselves. They started off, Sam passing the ball to Dixon. Jamie sprinted into the box shouting wildly.

“YEAH, YEAH! PASS ME THE BALL! ME, ME, ME! I WANT THE PALL! PASS ME THE BALL, PLEASE!”

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He really was selling it and it seemed to be working. There must have been four guys marking him. But Sam was left open and Dixon took his chance, passing him the ball. Then it happened, Sam took the shot.

“Barbecue sauce.”

The ball soared into the goal, and we’d done it. The game ended shortly after. We’d won. Everything moved in slow motion, the cheer of the crowd, the jumping and celebrations, the ground shaking with excitement.

But I was just looking of one person. Jamie. I needed Jamie. And we locked eyes. His grey eyes stormy with excitement. I felt myself moving towards him, rushing onto the field to get to get to him as quick as I could. I jumped and he caught my in his arms, spinning me around, my legs flying behind me.

I took his face and kissed him. Right there. In front of everyone. I didn’t care anymore, I wasn’t his coach, I wasn’t anyone’s coach. And right now, Jamie Tartt needed a kissing. He stood there on the pitch, practically eating each other’s faces off until I remembered where we were and pulled away. He followed me, letting out a whine.

“Not now,” I muttered to him, giggling. “Now we celebrate with them. But later…” I walked my fingers down his chest.

He grabbed my hand, tsking his tongue. “Don’t do that, love. Or I might just have to take you away right now.”

I shivered, tempted to let him do so. But then I looked over and saw Colin kissing his boyfriend, I saw Isaac and Sam hugging, I saw Ted starting to gain a crowd, probably ramping up to do something cheesy.

“Let’s go celebrate, babe,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

We ran over to the group to watch Ted do his victory dance. We celebrated. We were on top of the world. That’s how I like to remember that time. The whole team together. All of us. I could see into the future. I could see Ted leaving, and that would be sad.

But I could also see Keeley and I giving Rebecca the plans for the AFC Richmond Women’s team. I could see Jamie and I going to Brazil together and Keeley and Roy joining us after the shoot was done. I could see Jamie reconnecting with his father, showing him exactly the man he’d become without him. I could see Roy and Nate running the team together brilliantly. I could see us, months from now, having dinner at Higgin’s house. The whole team, kids running in the yard, chatting with Roy and Keeley, laughing with Colin and Michael.

I could see happiness. A happiness that I didn’t have three years ago that I had now. A happiness that had been…

A Long Time Coming.

Taglist: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum @imfalling-inlove @littleesilvia @eugene-emt-roe

END NOTE: If you've made it this far, thank you. When Ted Lasso ended, I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I still had the characters and stories rattling around in my head. So I decided to write this, just to get it out of my head, as an OFC Fic on AO3 (That's being updated as well if you're interested in meeting my OC).

Coming to Tumblr was inspired by a number of writers. Specifically three people who I now am mutuals with and even would call my friends. @illiterateaffairs @its-time-to-write, @alwritey-aphrodite, and @sokkigarden. Each of them inspired my in their beautiful understanding of Jamie's character, their individual styles and personalities, all of them inspired me and encouraged me to continue my writing. They are truly such talents, and I respect them each individually very greatly.

Finally, I have to thank every single person who has liked, commented, reblogged, or even just scrolled through a chapter. every comment, I read, every reblog, I read. They all mean the world to me, and I know I say that a lot but I really mean it. I didn't expect this series to get any traction much less get me nearly 400 followers. You guys kept me going.

Thank you for reading. From me and Jamie <3

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt/reader #jamie tartt/y/n

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ya-boi-haru · 9 months ago

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You know what, I like you, let me share my headcannons/thoughts on an AU I recently mentioned...

Fable smp Coffee Shop AU...

• Sherb runs a 24/hr (or late opened) Cafe, The Alchemist Brew. They specialise is mixing different coffee flavours to create a new taste and can even create one for a persons specific need or even mood.

The people that have often come in say it was exactly what they needed; students coming in to study found they work best with Icarus' creations - jokes that they put a focusing chemical drug in it. People on first dates say they added an ingredient that was a big ice breaker for them to bond over. A few cases come in home sick and the drinks taste like home somehow.

• Rae runs another cafe in a different part of town. It's a more traditional place, more old fashioned, rustic aesthetic.

Rae got to take over this place a lot sooner than he thought.

His mother went missing when he was young and his step-dad, Fable, left a few years ago. Icarus' was supposed to take over the buisness but they wanted to do their own thing, especially since Rae and Icarus had different ideas on how they should run the place.

So Rae runs the Gilded Cafe. While keeping the more traditional things on the menu, Rae also explores the history with Coffee. Makes ones how they would make it 30, 50, 100 years ago and happily, shares it with their customers.

• Athena is learning how to open their own bakery (Flour Garden) with Jamie. They offer their goods as a trial to both Gilded and Alchemist Brew Cafe. This way they get to try new foods and have people taste test them and both Cafes get a unique item on their menus each week. The feedback from customers is always appreciated and it sparks new ideas for foods and types of foods.

• Momboo runs a flower and tea shop, The Pink Tulip, both as a seperate transaction but has a talent for getting sweet tastes out of nature's prettiest petals

• Which is a dramatic comparison to her sister, Ocie/Kai, who runs a bar, Sea Dragon, iconicly known for its underwater sailor/pirate aesthetic and strong drinks to match

• Wolf is a business analyst and has helped with the businesses as well as a few others around town

• His partner, Centross, helps manage the Sea Dragon. A couple years ago, he tried to start a buisness with Icarus and Easton (who is a real estate agent), but it crashed and burned real quick. Wolf talked to Kai and she was generous enough to help Centross get back on his feet and they ended up working really well together.

• Aax works in the Gilded Cafe with Rae. He came to Rae looking for work - one in a new town with no connection to the Telchin company. They were awful, treated their employees terribly, and they would use special artificial chemicals in their drinks to make it taste like flavours (Hazlenut, vanilla etc), never the real thing, even their machines were designed to cut corners with brewing.

• Ulysses is still with Telchin, casual, but is still in the town with his Partner. He used to be able to do beautiful coffee powder art, but since the accident in the shop he can't even hold a cup steady.

• Will runs little a Cafe - The Traveller - based on flavours around the world, some places he's been lucky to actually travel to. Seven helps him run the place and really good with machines so they never have to worry about things breaking.

• Now all these businesses have their challenges, but Icarus feels they have an extra one...

A night club across the street 2 doors down, "The World Port". It's an exclusive place and Icarus had heard a few things about it.

It's a jack of all trades types of place, has accommodation for any events, Bachelor party's, birthdays, buisness meetings, heck even wakes.

Icarus' problem is that - for some reason - the owner recommendeds The Alchemist Brew to their customers as a place to sober up. Which would be fine if that didn't mean nights of drunks coming in, making a mess and passing out. They somehow get their mail mixed up as well, and The World Port is loud and makes it hard to focus on work.

• The World Ports concept is to be a place for everyone. It's main area is a bar with a dance floor and great music. They have sectioned off rooms, identified by colour, each room can accommodate for certain events. You could hold 3 different events in once.

• Smaller Headcannons/Notes:

• Caspian comes into the Gilded Cafe as a place to write his stories. He started going there for the nice coffee and cozy vibes, but the manager seems really nice and passionate about his work, so he kept coming in and is now a regular. And the Barista working there is cute nice to talk to as well

• Rae grew to appreciate the small talks with Capsian while on shift. He's even made it into a few pages of Raes sketch book - that will never see the light of day - but that has nothing to do with anything! Rae always draws random customers for practice! Despite Aax pointing out that he draws Caspian more.

• Aax and Rae are dating and are peeking interest in Caspian.

• Wolf and Centross are dating, though Centross is showing interest in Kai. He would deny it to hell and back even though everyone can see it.

• Icarus gets new ingredients/inspiration from their friends. Athena and Jamie's creations, Momboos flowers etc

• During the business Icarus, Centross and Easton tried to run, Icarus made a purple drink that turned out to have an addicting side effect. Part of the reason thee business failed.

• Since the World Port is exclusive, Icarus can't get in to talk to the owner. However, there have been times when they've come into the Alchemist Brew, and Icarus has just not been in there at the right time to see them.

• If they don't want to deal with maintenance companies, the other owners ask Seven to come over and fix their equipment, especially if it should be a simple fix.

• Galahad works at The Traveller and suggested their own mix of a spicier blend

Feel free to add onto or suggest things!

#i kinda wanna cosplay from this-#partially cause i cant draw #itd be cool #fable smp #fable smp headcanon #fablesmpblr #fsmp #fable smp au #fable smp coffe shop au #coffee shop au

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therantsofawriterrr · 3 months ago

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The Umbrella Academy Final Season: My Version.

Part One: We Also See Each Other At Birthday Parties

Overview: After getting back to a normal world with no powers, we see the Hargreeves trying to adjust to normal lives which somehow seems a lot harder to navigate. TW: uhh, emo discussions and stuff, mature language, sad people overall, some storyline changes because I'm writing it as the characters are playing it in my head, also long ass fic, I'm sorry. Pairings: Luther×Sloane, Diego×Lila, Allison×Raymond, Klaus×Dave, Five×OC, Ben×Jennifer A/N: Sooo, the fourth season made me want to forget it. Like I was literally thinking that I wanted Sir Reggie to use his memory-erase thing on me. This is for me and many others who wanted to see a happy ending, so uhh, here goes. I'm sorry if any of my imagination goes against fan canon, just think of them of my own hcs. also, im kind of using this to practice third person omniscient, so constructive criticism is appreciated. Btw, THIS HAS SPOILERS (potentially) because I'm also using some of the scenes from the season, stuff that I liked and all that. So, here goes ig.

Masterlist

What happens when you put seven superheroes into a normal world and strip them of their powers? It's an interesting question, a loaded question to be precise.

Well, that's what has happened now, with the Hargreeves siblings living their respective lives, trying to deal with the fact that they just had to live without their powers. They felt good about it, yes, but in some ways, it also posed a few difficulties.

Six years later, they were pretty well-adjusted. Or so it seemed.

Let's go to Number One, shall we? Luther Hargreeves, the self-proclaimed peacemaker of the family. At the moment, Luther was snoring in bed, drooling onto the sheets as he dreamed of a different life. A life with his wife, Sloane. A white picket fence, two dogs, and maybe even kids? But then, the scene changed. The kugelblitz appeared, taking his wife and world away, waking him up in a frenzy.

As soon as he did, he sat up, reaching out for her instinctively, only to find nothing but cold sheets. Tears started welling up in his eyes as a lump lodged itself in his throat, his hands going up to his face and his shoulders started shaking as he sobbed. This was pretty much like a morning routine, wake up, cry because of overwhelming grief, then get up and have some coffee.

The goofball of the family had turned into a depressed lover looking for his lost love.

As for Number Two, Diego Hargreeves and his wife, Lila Hargreeves, were quite literally living Luther's dream, with three kids and a wonderful house. But, suddenly going from crime-fighting and assassinations to dealing with kids, in-laws, a shitty boss, and the housewife life would be hard for anyone, don't you think?

Every day, Diego went out to work as a mailman, trying to get the mail to their owners with perfect precision. But, he failed, for his power was the reason for his perfect aim. And every single time, he felt insecure about himself. Now, he could get out of the truck and just deliver mail like a normal person, but then, this is Diego we're talking about.

Lila, on the other hand, has book club every other week. What the family didn't know, is that there is no book

They were a cute family, but they did need to talk to each other about some things.

Number Three, Allison Hargreeves was living with her husband and daughter, Raymond Chestnut and Claire Hargreeves Chestnut. While Raymond was happy living in a world where racism was a lot less than before and worked in a 9-5 job, Allison was struggling as an actor, trying to make time for family and land a good role. She also didn't really talk to the family except Klaus because she was afraid that they wouldn't want her, but she did regret her actions and felt lonely in that aspect of life.

Number Four was Klaus Hargreeves, the weirdest out of the group. It's those weird antics that also made him the most adorable in the group. Granted, he was a bit of a faint heart now that his immortality was gone, but the vibes were still there. But there was still the fact that he was three years sober, a fact that enabled him to wake up every morning with pride. Staying in Allison's basement, he had bubble-wrapped whatever surface he could, but being in charge of taking care of Claire finally made him feel useful in a way, so in short, he didn't really have any complaints.

And now, with his favourite brother Benerino coming out of jail, he could finally make him realise that he has a family as well!

Number Five, who was fine with being called Five, was working in the CIA, mainly investigating a cult that dealt with memories of another timeline. He used to dress up as a man named Jerome, putting on a fake mustache and a generic outfit to fit in. He clocked in early and left late, making people think that he was just another workaholic who didn't have anything to do at home.

But, there was a different reason. A reason that he wouldn't even tell his family. The PTSD of the previous many years, that he'd decided to ignore had finally started getting to him. He couldn't sleep without having nightmares of another apocalypse. The only way he could sleep without dreams was if he tired himself out to the point of passing out. Which is what he did.

Number Six, Ben Hargreeves was getting out of jail for being embroiled in a crypto scam. Granted, he had pretty much scammed too many people into losing too much money, but then why do people get involved in these markets if they don't keep in mind that it's risky? He could never understand people, really.

Now that he was out, he was free again, and he already had a plan to get away from the family once and for all. He didn't think he deserved to stay in a family full of love.

And finally there was Number Seven. Viktor Hargreeves, who was pretty much the strongest out of the group. But now, he just saw himself as an emo fuck-up who couldn't have a proper relationship, neither with his family nor with his partners. Building a life for himself in Nova Scotia had been hard, getting his bar business to take off had been harder, but what was hardest, was to actually commit to a person.

But then, could anybody blame him? He had lost too many people that he loved. There was Sissy, there was Harlan and there was the whole thing with Harold Jenkins. He was starting to think he needed to stay single for a while so that he could process his feelings and then put himself out there again.

But, even though they would do anything else, they did think that they needed to be there for Diego's first daughter, Grace's birthday party. So there they were, with smiles pasted on their faces in an arcade, where the children screamed while Diego and Lila yelled at each other.

"Diego! What are you doing?" She yelled into his ear, making him cringe.

"Getting the cake ready!" He yelled back.

"Piñata before cake! Go hang it!"

Diego went ahead and hung the fake horse with all the love he could muster and more. Though, Lila couldn't help but stare at him as he did, wondering how he knew that she had forgotten the piñata. She had called Diego up at the last moment in a panic, telling him about how she forgot to buy the West End one, and instead bought the East End one. Diego had just assured her and told her to breathe, telling her he'd handle it. He'd shown up with a vibrant horse, pretty much like the one she'd bought, but still different.

"What the hell are we going to do with two piñatas?" she'd asked, starting to panic again.

"We'll give the other one to Luther, babe. We both know he needs to get some of that anger out. Don't worry too much."

Diego stalked over to Luther carefully, handing him a bottle of beer and leaning back against the bar of some game, children shrieking with happiness.

"Hey, big guy," he said, internally wincing at Luther's answering grunt. "Where have you been these days? It's been what, a month since you'd called?"

"Just been busy," he said, taking a swig of the beer. They both knew how he'd been busy, but neither had the will nor the strength to discuss it. Diego missed him, but he sort of understood where he was coming from. He knew he'd go crazy if it had been Lila who had gotten lost after everything. He was pretty sure he would have been the reason for the world ending a fourth time.

Whereas Luther was mentally checking the wool-stringed map hanging in his house again and again in his mind, trying to figure out just where Sloane could be. He was hell-bent on finding her, to have the happy ending that they both deserved. He couldn't bear the thought of him living on while she died.

Elsewhere, Klaus had just entered the place with Claire and Raymond, with gloves on his hand and every other precaution he could think of.

"It's just a kid's party, Klaus. What's the worst that could happen here?"

"Oh, too many things. You of all people should know how dirty children can get, Raymond," he drawled in the typical Klaus fashion. Raymond only chuckled, shaking his head as Klaus cooed in excitement at the various candy stalls and selfie booths that were placed around the place. He had definitely been a weird addition to the family three years prior, but also an adorable one. His quirks made the house livelier for sure.

Allison, on the other hand, was sitting in her car, with her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She was trying to convince herself to start the fucking car, to get home and practice her lines, but her eyes kept flitting to the rearview mirror, where the neon sign was glowing brightly. A sudden knock made her jump in her seat, and she turned to see Viktor, who she thought would be the last person to approach her.

She rolled the tinted window down to meet Viktor's cold but warm eyes.

"You aren't coming in?" He asked, voice frosty, but with a tinge of sadness in it.

"No, not really," Allison said, guiltiness lacing her voice. "I probably shouldn't ruin the party."

"Grace is your niece, too, you know," he said, looking at her firmly. "It's her birthday, and she deserves to see her aunt. Plus, the others care about her just as much you and I do, so they won't make a fuss."

Immediately, when she entered the place, she regretted it. Because while Diego and Lila were a bit warm towards her, Luther's gaze turned stony before he turned away. She wanted to run away and hide, but Raymond's comforting hand in hers gave her a little strength.

On the other side of the room, Ben was talking to Five, the one Umbrella sibling that he could tolerate to some extent.

"What was it, again? Ponzi scheme? White-collar fraud?" Five asked him with a smirk.

"Crypto exchange. Web 3.0, baby. Feds only went after because I'm an outsider. A fucking maverick like Elon.

"Well, that and you bankrupted a 100,000 people."

"The whole thing was like a witch hunt. I think I'm just gonna stay home now that I'm out."

"Yeah, well, say what you will," Five said with a small appreciative smile. "It's still good to have you back."

Klaus seemed to spawn beside them suddenly, putting an arm around Ben's shoulders. "Hello, Benjamin."

"Get your hand off of me, I don't know where it's been," he said with irritation lacing his voice, but Klaus was unconvinced. Even if he wasn't their Ben, he was Ben, and there was no one else that knew him better.

The party went on with the same vibes; somehow, it was the only Hargreeves party that's been normal. Usually, it ended up getting very chaotic and weird.

But then, all of them knew that they actually had fun in those parties.

Another A/N: I originally planned for this to have ten chapters, but nvm every chapter will get too long, so ig we'll just see how many parts this thing will have. Likes, reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated, please tell me if the transition from one character to other was too confusing or hard to process, I do that sometimes. Also, I do have a lot of changes, according to what I've seen on the tua tag, so I'll try to make stuff up too haha. Anyway, tell me if y'all like this or not, and tysm for reading

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy s4 #fix it fanfiction #fix it fic #the hargreeves #tua #tua spoilers

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aloysiavirgata · 7 months ago

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Twelve opening sentences to twelve different fics

Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the tag! This was really fun and I wholeheartedly encourage everyone to give it a go!

***

1. Dana Scully rejects tasseography, astrology, tarot cards, chiromancy, augury, crystallography, spirit boards, runecasting, scrying, and all other methods of prognosticative divination.

- The Parting Glass (FTF)

2. He sits on the porch next to a little propane heater, gazing out at the Winter Hexagon as it slowly rolls above the horizon.

- Albedo (Cozy at the Unremarkable House)

3. She recites The Raven to herself on the drive in, lists all the state capitals in alphabetical order, and goes through the periodic table.

- In The Gale (IWTB)

4. “I got each flavor of the high-protein kind,” Scully says, gesturing at the cans stacked on her coffee table.

The Ineluctable Tendencies Of Tumbling Toast (Queequeg)

5. Their cars are conspicuous in the nearly empty parking lot, which magnifies the free-floating uncertainty.

Dichotomous (s11e09)

6. Lauren Atwater sits on the edge of the front stoop, drinking coffee out of a worn plastic travel mug she bought a year ago from a Dunkin' Donuts in Abilene

A Dim Capacity For Wings (On the run)

7. That Phoebe Green brought this to her attention is somehow the most rankling thing about it, Scully thinks.

Anthemoessa (Scully - Bedelia - Stella - Clone Club)

8. Sunday morning is pancake morning, and William charges into his parents’ room just shy of 7 am.

Dryad (AU casefile)

9. They’ve been going through the storage room for hours, marveling at the sheer volume of items her mother had held onto.

Madeleine (s10e04)

10. The bodies are small, the heaviest weighing in at forty-seven pounds.

Hic Jacet (Emily)

11. There are ghosts afoot in London, stirred by the excesses of humanity in the face of their own dull eternity.

White Winter Hymnal (post Bad Blood)

12. She finds Mulder behind the house, drowsing in one of the hammocks they’d strung between the ancient oaks that tower above their patch of the planet.

Rags of Light (IWTB)

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #inbox #writing memes

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highlordofkrypton · 8 months ago

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the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 6 - Love, Love, Laugh

“You are telling me,” Hippolyta measures her words carefully. “That this book was selected specifically to appeal to me.” Judging by the cover, there is nothing that stands out to her. It is a woman in a green dress. Good for her. And yet, in her attempt to dismiss the culture of man’s world while remaining included, she has managed to miss the point entirely.

They are here, a part of this ‘club’ to bond with one another that transcends the invisible tether created by their children’s friendships. She may claim not to care about this world, but she has been paying attention. The people have raised good children and excellent allies for her daughter, regardless of gender. It is why she gave this any thought at all.

“And you all thought that a book with a female protagonist, polyamory and a female love interest are what my tastes consist of?”

“Oh, I didn’t think. I know.” Alfred smiles.

The man spends too much smiling beneath that coiffed moustache of his. Hippolyta glares at him, loathing how he has been one step ahead of her this entire evening. From what they have told her, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo sounds wonderful. Though her disposition is tough, Hippolyta’s heart is as soft as her daughter’s. It was her who pleaded with the gods for a child, so that she could be a mother and impart boundless love on a precious little being.

She blames her daughter for Alfred’s cleverness; she must have prepared him for this day, somehow.

“One day, I will wipe that smile off your face, but for now… Grin all you like.” She sighs. “This sounds like the exact story that I would enjoy, and perhaps encourage my sisters to reenact as a play.” Hippolyta folds her arms and steals Atlanna’s copy for safekeeping. She turns to Atlanna, resting her chin against her palm. “And will it take you seven husbands before you realize that I am the one for you?”

For all the velvet in Hippolyta’s tone, Atlanna remains unmoved. She laughs and waves her friend off.

“So, wait, did you two… really?” Martha motions between them. It’s unlike her to ask too many personal questions, but she’s genuinely curious about the lives her friends have led before they became parents to the world’s heroes. She has known Alfred for decades and he never said anything about his life before the Waynes.

“Yes and no,” Hippolyta hums. “Themyscira has always had a political alliance with Atlantis, even before its fall. I have seen many Kings, but only one Queen.” She looks at her affectionately. “I have known the pleasure of her lips, and the softness of her gaze, but she will never be mine.” Her fingers reach out and caress her cheek. Atlanna catches her hand and kisses her palm.

“It is a different kind of love. Hippolyta has my mind, but Tom is my one and my only. I will never love another the same way I love him,” Atlanna holds Hippolyta’s gaze, then turns to smile softly at Martha. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. He brings you balance and peace,” Martha nods.

“And I would only elevate you to the height of goddesses,” Hippolyta laments dramatically.

“But what about… multiple partners,” Martha asks softly and awkwardly. She’s not unfamiliar with the concept, but she worries about overstepping and misspeaking.

The last time she had dallied was before Jonathan, her sweet traditional farm boy, and never with more than one person. Leaving the social circles her mother had practically worshipped for a small town shifted her entire world. It simplified it, and she focused all her love towards her husband, her son and what she can make with her two hands.

She glances at Alfred. The two of them come from a time when people simply did not talk about these things. They just happened, and they were either accepted or vilified.

“It’s not that simple,” Atlanna hums.

“It is not that simple here. Your world has many rules and hangups. Multiple partners can be compatible, but the useless baggage and insecurities.” Hippolyta groans, rolling her eyes.

“You speak from experience,” Martha wonders, out loud.

And that comment has Hippolyta closing herself off.

“It requires all participants to let go of everything they have learned in this modern society, and to choose love above all,” Alfred says softly, looking at his tea.

“You speak from experience,” Atlanna says to him instead.

“Mhm,” he hums. “There are certain kinds of love that you do not let go, ever.”

Neither he nor Martha have ever spoken about it, even if he’d never hid it, either. Too long glances when they thought no one was looking, or overly indulgent touches. She had seen right through them, far too observant for her own good, but she never commented on it. She never asked, not until today, and even now, Martha did not direct her question to Alfred.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When they,” she swallows the agonizing thought. To lose not one, but two pieces of your heart at once. Martha cannot imagine the grief; when Jonathan died, his loss suffocated her. Alfred had been there for her, along with Clark and Bruce. “We would have been there for you. We could have helped with…”

“I know, but I didn’t have the words. I still don't.”

Martha reaches out to him and squeezes his hand. She sits there for a long moment, looking at him with empathy.

The conversation is sobering, and it is wonderful. It reminds each of them that they are more than their roles, their stations and their accomplishments. They are individuals whose stories are not told, quietly tucked behind the legends they have raised. They do not need recognition, but this—what they have here—is freeing .

“My deepest condolences, Alfred,” Atlanna hums.

“If it is of any consolation, I know a place where you retrieve their sou—,” Hippolyta starts.

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” It is not in his nature to toy with life and death. He will let others do that, and he will face the consequences as they come. Alfred chippers up, lifting his chin. “Enough of this serious talk. I am on vacation. Let us leave the glowering to the Knights of Gotham. Tea, anyone?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could have dinner.”

Outside, the sun has set. Normally, Martha would have had dinner by now, and readied herself for bed. A buzz settles in her bones as she washes the teacups and the saucers. She doesn’t stay up late often, and it’s exciting to have friends over. They’ve all agreed to stay. She also has no qualms putting the others to work. While she cleans up, Alfred has been tasked with putting the food from tea time away, and both Queens work together to set the table.

Her mind wanders as her hands work. The farm looks different at night; she admires the way her berry bushes have begun to grow on the side. She likes to dream of happy little creatures nibbling on this season’s yield. In the distance, the barn looms over the farmhouse, but she knows it's a place of warmth filled with animals who want nothing more than chin scratches.

The rest of her land is a forest of stalks—corn and sunflowers—but the verdant colours have turned into nothing more than a dark wall surrounding her home. Had she not spent the better part of her life surrounded by these fields, and had she not found the greatest gift in the middle of that field, then maybe she would have found the farm isolating. Intimidating.

Movement snaps her out of her reverie. The stalks don’t move, not normal. They stay still, watching her with the same intensity that she watches them. Martha stops the water, leaning forward on the counter and looking outside the window.

There.

A quiver of leaves, and then it’s gone again. She squints, willing herself to see what’s there.

An animal?

Most animals that roam freely through the farmlands are too small to cause that kind of movement. The neighbours must have lost a goat again. Her own cow, Bessie, has been known to wander.

Your mind is playing tricks on you, she mused, looking down to dry her hands. The moment she looks up, she sees it.

A dark figure standing among the stalks, its head illuminated by the moonlight, but its features darkened by shadow. It stands there, watching her. Chills ripple across her flesh, lighting her up from the inside out with a certain kind of fear.

“Martha?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Atlanna looks at her, as if she has grown three heads. Her gaze follows Martha’s out the window, but she sees nothing. Atlanteans eyesight is not made for the surface. Her body may have adapted after all these years, but seeing at night is still difficult.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. It’s just this new generation of teenagers. They have no respect for others.” The lie is a comfort, but not for Atlanna. “I’ve slow roasted beef. A spin on Alfred’s recipe,” she grins. “I’ll be with you in a quick sec. Have a seat.”

One last glance out the window, and all she sees is the dark row of stalks—corn and sunflower.

That’s what I get up for staying up late.

#my fics #dc comics #dc fanfic #atlanna #alfred pennyworth #martha kent #hippolyta #superfam #batfam #batfamily #aquafam #wonderfam #pennywaynes #alfred pennyworth x martha wayne x thomas wayne #polyamory #superman #batman #wonder woman #aquaman

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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

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Could I request Snow on the Beach and Tae? I don't have any specific genre requests. But I love how dream-like your writing is, and it would fit the overall vibe of the song. 🥰

Snow on the Beach - KTH

Pairing: Actor!Taehyung X Assistant Director!Reader

Theme: Fluff, confessions

Song: Snow on the Beach

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Nothing at all

Minors and Karens Are Not Allowed in this Blog!!

A/N: Thank you so much for this request and also, thanks for calling my writing dream-like. 😭 Hope this turned out the way you wanted.

“And cut!” the director’s voice pierce through the wet, chilly but somehow pleasant ocean air.

Seven months worth of hard work comes to an end today, just within a blink. How did seven months vanish in thin air, just like that?

It was just yesterday when you got Mr. Choi’s call out of the blue, asking you to assist him as an assistant director in one of his upcoming dramas. You heave a sigh of relief. Obviously, everything that’s good, comes to an end, regardless of your wishes. Now it’s time to pray. Praying for the final product to turn out just as you and Mr.Choi want, praying for the drama to be received well, praying for your career to finally take off after the success of this project, praying to meet Kim Taehyung again and again.

God! You are so impossibly in love! And you never planned on this. Certainly, a struggling, barely getting by, direction professional like you could not even afford to think of falling for someone as high profile as Kim Taehyung, who is also one of the most popular actors of the industry.

Yet, you did. You fell for him, that too, head over heels.

Taehyung is nothing like what you thought he would be. This being the first project with him, you got to see him upclose.

Usually high profile actors and actresses like him tend to be nosy, a little problematic and sometimes straight up rude.

But Taehyung is different.

Every time you suggested something, he listened to it, considered it, told you if he likes it or not and if he did, he acted upon your suggestions.

He would always go an extra mile and would bring snacks and coffees to the set.

He was hardly ever late.

He would place his own suggestions very gently whenever he didn’t like something instead of being super aggressive about it.

All in all, Kim Taehyung is certainly the most well-mannered and professional actor you have ever worked with.

He is also the most handsome human being you have ever witnessed.

His handsome features are certainly there but what makes him even more beautiful is the light that he emits. You have never seen anyone lit from within except for Taehyung. And as a result, you were falling hopelessly in love with him, even before you realized.

You feel new, you feel refreshed, you feel content, you feel foreign under your own skin, is this what being in true love is? Just loving the person from a distance and not dying for their reciprocation? Is this what overpowers desires and sends you to a different dimension where you could stare at the person for hours after hours without wanting them to spare you a glance? And everything else becomes a bonus?

You don’t realize that you have been staring at Taehyung for quite a few minutes while he hugs and greets staff congratulating a successful culmination of the shoot. But then you feel someone’s elbow on your upper arm, your trance breaks.

“Get ready by seven. We are hitting the club tonight” says Hyun Mi, one of the production staff slash your new friend, as she brushes sand off her jeans.

“Umm.. I am not going.” You reply, your eyes find the man again.

“What? Why?” She is visibly upset.

“I am tired. I need some sleep before the flight tomorrow. You guys have fun.” You reply, stealing a last glance at Taehyung. He catches your gaze on him and gives you a little smile accompanied with a small bow.

Your heart starts beating abnormally in your chest. You bow back before starting to pack your stuff neatly in your bag.

“It’s never tiring to watch the ocean, isn’t it?” the low, baritone voice that you have come to love so much, startles you out of nowhere. Your body shifts on its own accord in reaction to the voice and your coffee cup clanks against the balcony railing.

“Easy, easy. It’s just me. Taehyung. Did I scare you?” he chuckles at your flustered form.

Fuck. What is he doing here? You think.

“Oh yes. You did.” You reply, inhaling a sharp breath. “Didn’t expect you here. I thought you were having dinner with the production house staff?”

“I escaped.” he whispers, standing beside you a little too closely. Close enough for your arms to brush with his. Goosebumps spread all over your body, even though you are wearing a thick sweater.

“What about you though? I thought you were clubbing with others?” His breath hits your skin directly and you understand the intensity of the proximity.

“Nah. I would rather sit and stare at the sea alone.” you answer.

“Then you don’t mind me keeping you company. Do you?”

“Not at all. I appreciate it.”

You two fall into a comfortable silence. There is no rush, no urgency of saying anything… just you and Taehyung, watching the ocean making and breaking a new wave each second. The moment feels too intimate, something you would share with a lover.

Ironically enough, you are sharing it with the man you are in love with, also the man you can’t have. But it’s alright. You are at least sharing it with him. You don’t want anything more. You don’t even dare to wish for anything more.

“Umm… are you perhaps seeing someone? As in dating?” He is the one to break the silence with a question that you have never expected.

“No.” Your voice is small, unsettled and you don’t even know why.

“Then.. Do you mind having a coffee with me when we go back to Seoul? I am free for the rest of the month so any time you can manage will be okay with me.” Taehyung manages to say it all within one breath. If you are not wrong then, his voice suggests nervousness.

“Are you- are you asking me out?” Your own voice isn’t anything better. You, too, are very nervous. But your nervousness amplifies by tenfold when you turn your head to look at Taehyung.

Soft ocean breeze ruffles his hair, his caramel brown eyes are full of mystery, his tongue pokes out of his mouth and wets his lips, you are staring at the scene as if he is aurora borealis.

“Fuck. You’re beautiful.” Wait, did you just think loudly? But no. It's Taehyung’s voice. Wait, did he just call you beautiful?

Your face hits up within a second. Your lips get caged within your teeth but you can’t hide your smile. Taehyung just called you beautiful, fuck! He did. You smile as if you just won a contest.

“So, what’s your answer?” Taehyung’s voice rings right in your ear.

“I would love to have a coffee with you, Taehyung.” You somehow manage to voice out, despite the crazy beating of your heart.

“I think I will need your personal number then.” Taehyung chuckles as he scoots even closer to your body, placing his hand on top of yours.

#bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung x you #bts x you #bts x y/n

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vidjausers-fable · 11 months ago

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PenPals(Veneer x OC)Chapter 4

Previous chapter

Author’s Note: This is a more Avery-centered chapter, so I hope you enjoy getting to know this character more! Thank you again to my best friend @tinalbion for beta reading for me! Here’s more fanart of Velvet, Veneer, and yes, even Avery.

How would one describe their work without sounding insane? Avery didn’t know, even though she’d been working at that stupid rink close to five years. She was on her thirty minute lunch in the staff lounge, her skates off and under the table at her feet. In front of her, she had a slice of pizza and a soda, with a pen and notepad. She found herself taking notes of things she wanted to tell Veneer throughout the day and used those notes to write to him in the evening. She wanted to make sure that her letters were full of content, whether it be photos or just daily updates. Never once did she want a letter to lack any content, especially since Samson put a lot of effort into writing her back. Sometimes she would get pages of letters and sketches.

For about a month now, they had been sending letters back and forth. Avery felt herself grow closer with the male, yet too shy to ask if she could visit in person. If anyone asked her a few years ago where she imagined herself, she would have not answered with: Oh yeah, I’m sending letters back and forth with someone who was close to going to prison!

It just made her feel less lonely, after losing her one and only friend. Her best friend too. She knew that she had to get back out there eventually, to learn to trust others again and make friends, but it was hard when someone screwed you over as hard as Rebel Rivers did to her. She still felt hurt that one moment they were roommates, and the next second she was quite literally drained of all her money and kicked to the curb. Would it be weird to ask a coworker to go out and do something? What could they even do: go to another nasty joint or go bowling at another cheesy diner?

Absent-mindedly, she allowed her foot to fidget with her skates, rolling them back and forth, though she made sure not to let them roll too far away. She didn’t know what else to write to Samson without sounding as though she was one who constantly complained about their situation. But truly, at her work, she felt lonely, and at home, she felt isolated.

From the other side of the staff lounge, one of Avery’s coworkers watched her silently mope.

What Avery didn’t know was that her coworkers had noticed this loneliness. One did. This one in particular was Gracie, who had been there the longest after Avery, and knew that Avery had been on her own since a young age. Gracie was only a few years older, but she felt as though Avery somehow was more mature than her, and isolated. She didn’t know why, however, but felt like she could possibly work up the courage to reach out and see if Avery wanted to open up to her at a later time. She would have reached out to Avery sooner, but it felt as though that once she finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night, Avery was already gone before she could ask. Gracie was one of the preppers and line cooks while Avery skated and waited tables, which made it hard to get her to slow down, and their breaks hardly aligned with one another. But today would be different, she promised herself. She told herself that she would ask Avery tonight to come with her to the club tomorrow. She knew both of their schedules and that both of them had the day off tomorrow.

It was now or never.

Gracie calculated that Avery had about seven minutes left on her break, same as Gracie herself. Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous that she would be rejected. Now was the best time to do it, if she really would ask Avery tonight.

Stumbling over to the blonde in the booth, Gracie approached Avery. To her, Avery was beautiful and had her own unique style with the pink strip in her hair and the fishnets she wore under her uniform skirt. Gracie wished she had her confidence.

Despite being standoffish, Avery always smiled at her coworkers, so Gracie wasn’t any different. Avery smiled up at her as she approached. “Hey Grace, what’s up?” Avery asked, flipping the paper she was writing over, then sat up straighter.

Gracie scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry if I’m asking on such late notice, but if you’re not busy would you like to come clubbing with my boyfriend and me tomorrow night?” The question came out in stumbled words, so Gracie hoped that they were understandable to Avery, “I just realized that we’ve been working together for two years and we’ve never even stayed over extra for a drink or anything. It felt wrong to me in a way.” She smiled timidly.

Avery blinked up at her coworker in shock. Gracie was…sort of like her. Gracie kept to herself at work, though once when Avery was working, she had waited at her coworker’s table when she was out for some friends, and seemed to be a social butterfly then. Avery still treated her with kindness outside of work.

Avery stared up at the dark-skinned girl and admired how pretty she was with her curly dark black hair she had to keep pinned up and hidden while on the job. It was hard to believe that she even stuck around at a cook job when she could be out there and be a model or something.

“I don’t see why not,” Avery replied, smiling at her, “I’m off and if I take another shift, I would be doing TOO much overtime. So yeah, that sounds fun. Do you want to make plans to maybe do our hair together and makeup? I also have a couple dresses I could wear. I’ll bring them over.” Watching Gracie’s bright brown eyes wide when she answered did make her feel happier in a way, “I could come over, or you could come over to my place.”

Gracie nearly bounced off the floor. Avery wouldn’t realize that she had just opened Pandora’s jar. “OMG, that would be amazing!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “You can come over to my place, I have all KINDS of makeup to share with you. Just text me through my personal number. Can I write it down?” she pointed to the piece of paper that Avery’s hand had remained on top of the entire time.

Avery looked at it and handed it over hesitantly, “Yeah, sure.” She watched carefully as Gracie wrote her number out, and made sure she didn’t flip the page. She was a bit anxious for others to find out she was sending letters to someone who had been arrested.

“Text me tonight so I can text you my address ASAP! I don’t have anything going on, so I’ll be back at home with my boyfriend. Feel free to come over any time! This is going to be so much fun.” Gracie giggled, “Oh, we only have a minute left of our break! We should get back to work. It’ll help make time pass for the rest of the night!” She turned on the ball of her feet and rushed back into the kitchen. She stopped for a moment to look back at Avery, “Don’t forget to text me!” And then she was gone.

That wasn’t so bad… Gracie thought to herself, Avery is actually an interesting person. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. With that thought, she returned to her work.

Avery didn’t personally mind being a couple minutes late returning and took her time to slip back into her skates, sliding her notepad into her uniform apron. She chuckled quietly to herself at the encounter with Gracie. She didn’t realize Gracie had so much energy in her. Though she had to think to herself for a moment—Gracie had been so nervous about approaching her? Did Avery give off that vibe…? Was she just that unapproachable to others?

Shaking off some creeping thoughts, Avery skated back into the room, where her shift was as normal for the rest of the night. When she returned home, she was almost too tired to shower but did anyway because she did not want her bed to smell like grease. So, she took a long hot shower, taking her time to wash the smell off herself before she went to bed, not even adding to Samson’s letter for the night, too exhausted from her long shift. She did make sure to text Gracie before she passed out.

When Avery awoke, she was more sore than usual. Honestly, she was considering texting Gracie to cancel. The longer she lay there in bed, teetering back and forth, the more she began to think about the day. She had already promised her coworker to go out for the night, and she didn’t like the thought of chickening out and then facing Gracie at work the next day. Plus, it would probably do her good to get out to somewhere that wasn’t the grocery store. This soreness would pass.

But did she really want to face the Boom Box again? After what had happened with Velvet and Veneer, and now her own personal trauma of having her own art stolen, that place seemed almost…traumatic for her now. Even if nothing remotely traumatic happened to her in it.

Avery released a long breath. “Okay, stop thinking or you’ll start to spiral. Let’s get up and do something,” she encouraged herself and stood, stretching her long limbs above her head. If her body could make cracking sounds, then it would have.

Avery checked the time. It was only 9am. She sent a text to Gracie, seeing that she had texted her address late last night, probably around the time when they both got home. I just got up. Going to get ready. Do you want breakfast while I’m getting some? There, that seemed friendly, right?

Gracie texted back immediately, making Avery wonder if she was staring at her phone the entire morning, waiting for Avery to text. Yes pls! A coffee and a burrito if possible! ^0^

Will do! How do you like your coffee? After texting, she set her phone aside to brush her hair and look at herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers over the pink strip in her hair, seeing that it didn’t look as glossy as usual. Was your natural hair color supposed to fade this early? She brushed her teeth and then tended to her pets.

“Sorry guys, I can’t let you out today. I’ll be out all day. But here’s some extra treats to hold you over until then.” She took them out of their pen and allowed them to eat the snacks in her lap. When they were done, she put them back and returned to her phone. She picked it off her kitchen counter and checked to see if Gracie had answered her text. She had, so Avery made a mental note to her coffee order.

Avery’s fingers acted out of instinct, and she found herself looking up Samson on her phone. When no name popped up, she realized that she was about to text a man’s number that she didn’t even have—but a number she realized she desperately wanted. This made her blush to herself before she went and looked for Samson’s letter where she had started but not quite finished yet. She wanted to finish writing to him, but she didn’t want to keep Gracie waiting.

“I’ll finish you tomorrow morning before work,” she promised to Samson as if he was right in front of her, then set the letter down on the kitchen island where she did most of her writing.

Avery took her bag and headed out the door after she dressed. Today she was in a black t-shirt and pink skirt with fishnets. She had brought with her a dress or two for the club, though wondered if Gracie would make them go out shopping for some together. She secretly hoped not.

There was a coffee shop near the bus stop that Avery often visited on the days she went grocery shopping. She went ahead and got their coffees and two burritos before making sure that they were wrapped up nicely in a bag and secured. Sometimes the roads in Mount Rageous were crazy fast and tossed you back and forth, and Avery didn’t want to start this day with coffee all over herself or her dresses.

The ride took about fifteen minutes, and sure enough, the bus was fast, tossing Avery around in the back. Had she not needed to bring so much with her, she would have just skated and saved herself the aches and pains in her arms and legs. She pulled the brake for the bus driver when she neared the street that Gracie had texted her and then stood. When she exited the bus, she immediately texted Gracie, Hey I just got off the bus and I’m close. Do you think that you could step outside so I can see where you’re at?

There had been no response back immediately, though very did see the seen marker pop up under the text almost instantly. Her face was still buried in her phone when she heard someone call her name, “AVERY! I’M OVER HERE!”

Avery looked side to side but saw no one. All there were, was the apartments stretching down from both left and right.

“I MEAN UP HERE!”

Avery then looked up and saw Gracie standing on a fourth story balcony. She was waving her hand back and forth erratically while smiling. She cupped her mouth when she called out, “CUT THROUGH THE BUILDING IN THE CENTER AND I’LL MEET YOU DOWNSTAIRS!”

“Okay!” Avery called out but not nearly as loud as Gracie, so she wasn’t sure if her coworker had heard her. Gracie smiled anyway and disappeared back into her apartment.

As she had been told, Avery cut through the center of the apartments, where there were stairs, and waited in case that was where she was supposed to be. Sure enough, she heard the loud tapping of frantic shoes before Gracie made an appearance. She was wearing shorts, a white hoodie that had rabbit ears coming off the top of it, and house slippers. It was strange to see her outside of her work uniform.

“Good morning!” Gracie said excitingly, greeting Avery by kissing both her cheeks. It was a bit of a greeting that was too far into Avery’s bubble, but she didn’t voice that. Gracie immediately took the food out of her hands, making Avery’s load lighter. “We only have to go up one flight of stairs to the lobby, and then we can go into the elevator.”

Avery smiled and teased, “Thank god. You scared me for a moment when I saw you on the fourth floor. I’m on the third floor in my apartment, and our elevator breaks often.”

Gracie giggles, “You should move here then. The maintenance here is pretty fabulous!”

Avery thought to herself, If I could only afford it. Gracie and I work the same job, but she also has her boyfriend to help pitch in for rent…

“Oh shoot, I forgot to ask if your boyfriend wanted anything for breakfast.”

Gracie scoffed playfully and waved her hand, “Psh, don’t worry about him. He can fend for yourself. Thank you SO much for breakfast, it smells so good! Where did you get it?”

Avery followed Gracie up the stairs and to the elevator, “There’s this coffee shop kinda in the center of my apartments. It’s an amazing hang out place, and the food and coffee is—and don’t tell the boss—so much better than at the diner. I go there every other week, if not every week. It’s called the Truffle Tower ironically. Maybe the two of us can go together after work one day.”

“I would SO love that!” Gracie squeaked and pressed the button to the fourth floor, continuing to talk as the elevator went up, “My boyfriend is home but he won’t bother us. I told him to play video games all morning if he had to. I’m so excited to have a girls day out!” She tried not to jump while they were in the elevator, but once they stepped out she leaped for joy, unable to contain herself.

This made Avery laugh and snort, “Are you SURE you need this coffee? You’re bouncing off the walls!” she teased.

Gracie was too pumped to stop bouncing, even as they made it to her door. There was a doormat in front that said, Only come in if you have my delivery. “Gods yes, I’ll need more bean juice if you want to keep this party in motion! Oh, here’s my place.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Upon stepping inside, Avery was greeted with an apartment that was luxurious compared to hers. The walls were light blue and the furniture had a gray, blue, or black modern tone to them. She could see the balcony with glass sliding doors, where Gracie had called out to her earlier. Avery almost gasped out loud.

What Avery was almost greeted with was a tall male with dark blue hair and pale skin. He was wearing a hoodie and boxer briefs, and was also in the middle of eating cereal messily.

“TROY! I TOLD YOU TO GET DRESSED, WE HAVE A GUEST OVER!” Gracie screamed and grabbed an orange off the counter, throwing it at him.

Troy laughed and grabbed the orange with one hand, the other still wrapped around his bowl, “I’m not starving myself for you, woman! Fine, I’m going!” He took the orange and the bowl and disappeared into one of the rooms, closing the door.

Gracie released a dramatic sigh, and for a moment she seemed to calm down, “Sorry about that. He doesn’t like to listen to the words I say!” She scoffs and takes Avery to her kitchen island. It was much longer and had a better countertop than Avery’s back at home. “Let’s eat here before I starve myself. Do you want anything back for breakfast?” she asked calmly as she took out the burrito box and the coffee labeled with her name.

Avery returned the smile and shook her head, “No way. I asked because it’s a treat from me.” She took her own coffee and removed the protective top that prevented spills and dove it, “I forgot to ask what meat you wanted on your burrito, so I hope sausage was okay. I got bacon for myself in case you didn’t like it.”

“Sausage was a fine choice! Thank you again!”

As they ate, it was silent, but only for a moment before Gracie began to speak again, “I’m really excited to go clubbing tonight. I heard that there’s going to be something exciting going on at the Boom Box tonight. Have you seen it on the news?”

Avery tried not to pale. Luckily her pink skin never seemed to lose much color, “No. I guess I haven’t lately. What’s going on?”

“I’m not quite sure yet…But I heard that it’s going to be AMAZING! It’s a surprise but it’s being announced tonight. I’m thrilled you’re going. It gets lonely with two people, especially when the other person wants to go do something else. With you and my boyfriend, there will always be someone there! Have you been clubbing at the Boom Box before?”

Avery tried not to hesitate, but her words faltered for a moment, “Oh, yeah. Once or twice. But I haven’t since I started picking up evening and double shifts.”

Gracie pouted her bottom lip, “That sucks. I see you working your ass off all the time. You deserve some time to rest.”

Avery shrugged it off, “I guess I’m just trying to save up some extra money.”

“But aren’t you burnt out or something?”

“Yeah, a bit, but at least I’m getting numbers saved up in my bank account.”

Gracie crossed her arms as she scoffed, “That won’t do you well, Avery! You’ll work yourself into a grave at this point. From now on, you and I are going to have some more girl time. Got it?”

Avery chuckled, not arguing with her coworker, though she worried that this wouldn’t work out. “Alright, alright. We’ll see how tonight goes, and go from there.”

Gracie agreed and then the two finished off their food. Avery went into the kitchen and washed the grease from her hands. “Where’s your trash?”

“It’s under the sink, but I’ve got it!” Gracie insisted and took their breakfast trash, throwing it away for them. “I see you brought some dresses. Can I see them?” she asked excitingly,

“Sure, I wasn’t sure what to bring really. I don’t have many dresses, but I dug out a couple. It’s been a while since I wore them though.”

Avery pulled out three dresses. There was a silky black one that reached her knees, and a blue one that had a low V line with a window in the back as well. It was the third dress that caught Gracie’s attention, however—it was a neon pink latex dress. The color was the same as the pink strip in her hair. The moment that Avery lifted it, Gracie covered her mouth and gasped, “Oh my god, try that one on, I think that one’s perfect!”

Avery blushed and held the dress. She looked down at it. Indeed it had been a while since she had worn this particular dress. In fact, it was probably a year at most? The last time she had was when she was at a Velvet and Vene…a…a concert. Yeah. How could she have forgotten? She had the sudden urge to shove this dress into the toilet and flush it until it was gone, but she couldn’t let Gracie know that she was upset. Instead, she smiled and nodded, “Yeah, of course. Where’s your bathroom?”

Gracie pointed to a door to the left, “That one. While you’re getting dressed, I’m going to get my makeup out. I already know the perfect look for you!”

Avery disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the pink dress. She hesitated to look at herself in the mirror but smiled when she did. The dress still fit her perfectly. It was a tube top that reached her midthigh. It wasn’t too short or too long. It also didn’t squeeze her, which surprised her considering she worked in such a greasy place. Her neck looked exposed, however, so she wished she had grabbed some of her jewelry to help her not feel as naked. With some fishnets and her long black boots, her outfit would be complete! Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad wearing this dress again.

Avery didn’t know what to expect when she stepped out of the bathroom. Gracie was seated on her couch and gasped the moment she saw her, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. “Oh. My. God. AVERY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” She almost cried, “Do you have shoes to go with it?!”

“I have my knee-high black boots since they could go with any of the dresses, and I plan on wearing my fishnets. I was wondering if you had a spare necklace I could borrow? I totally forgot how exposed this dress makes me feel right here.” She touched her neck.

“Girl, I was thinking the same THING! We’ll look for something before we leave okay? Now, tell me, which makeup style do you prefer…” Gracie motioned for Avery to sit down next to her.

Together, the two spent the morning and afternoon prepping for the evening to come. They watched a show together, and when it was closer to time, Gracie did their makeup. Avery had a glittery pink eyeshadow along with some black that smudged all around her eye. She also had lip gloss that made her lips look sparkly but didn’t take away from the masterpiece that was her eyes. Gracie chose something more teal. Her outfit was a teal crop top and skirt that could have been one dress had Gracie not wanted to show off her midriff. She also wore teal makeup to match. Her top lip was black while her bottom was the same blue as her dress. The two looked ready for the club, and Avery felt ready for it too.

After a small fit between Gracie and Troy, the two were soon out the door. Gracie was glued to Avery’s side the entire time, hugging her arm, as Troy walked behind him. Gracie happily chatted the entire time, even through the bus trip to the Boom Box.

Standing outside the Boom Box made Avery’s knees feel weak. Though the real nerves hit her the moment she passed the bouncer and stepped into the club. The lights blasted the colors of the rainbows and the combination of the others screaming along with music made it nearly impossible to hear Gracie despite the girl speaking directly into her ear.

Avery stood in the middle of the Boom Box now, but she recalled the familiar excitement she felt when she had gone to see Velvet and Veneer for the first time. She stood in the loud, crowded room now, but her mind was elsewhere, further away into the reaches of her memory. This brought Avery back so many months ago. Maybe even a year? Back when Rivers and her were rising to the top. Until they suddenly weren’t. Velvet and Veneer had hit the charts and hit them hard enough that it nearly knocked River off the charts. Avery believed that was the reason Rivers turned on her—when she realized Avery didn’t want to do more to rise back to the top. That’s why Rivers had stolen her work.

Staring at the stage, she saw Veneer and Velvet performing. She really did feel like she was living a sweet dream listening to them.

Avery was at the front of the crowd, her hands in the air reaching for the popstars. She was in the VIP crowd, screaming in pure joy. She swore Veneer turned toward her and winked, making her feel butterflies in her stomach and a blush in her cheeks. This was pure bliss, she had noticed him!

Sweet Dreams continued to play through the club, and even with the crowd joining in on the fun of singing, the twin’s voices carried the most. Velvet’s voice rang the loudest, and Avery wished that she could hear Veneer more. He was her favorite out of the two, though she never would admit it out loud since everyone else seemed to be Velvet fans.

“Alright, Mount Rageons!” Velvet held the microphone to her lips, her voice blaring over the music as it died down, “We’re so appreciative of our fans that we decided to give you all a gift. From us!” She grabbed some shirts and started to throw some out into the crowd. When someone caught the shirt, the fan screamed loudly.

When Veneer grabbed t-shirts of his own, that’s why Avery’s stomach dropped. She screamed as loud as she could and threw her hands into the air, trying to reach as far into the air as she could. For a moment, she swore he looked at her, flashing a charming smile her way. She wasn’t imagining it. They made eye contact. Veneer took one of the shirts and tossed them her way. Avery nearly climbed over the crowd to catch it. Some people tugged on it, but she refused to let it go. She threw it over her body before anyone could snatch it from her. The shirt was a fluorescent neon green, which glowed in the dark. It was completely unique! Holding it and wearing it almost made her cry. She pulled it over her pink dress and hugged it tight.

“I LOVE YOU VENEER!!” She screamed, cheering for her favorite idol.

Veneer winked, “I love you too!”

Avery nearly fainted on the spot. He noticed her!

Velvet took the front again, her brother falling behind as always. She looked over to the crowd as if they were her puppets and called out, “Whoever caught the t-shirts get backstage passes to meet my brother and me PERSONALLY! We look forward to seeing you all!” She blew kisses to the crowd, “Goodnight everyone!”

Avery’s jaw fell open, and her knees became weak. She was about to faint for real. Holding onto that shirt felt more like a priority than anything. She couldn’t let anyone steal it from her! She pushed through the crowd and found the twin’s bodyguards, who were intimidating.

“I…I have a pass.” She pointed to her shirt nervously. Her heart was beating faster the more she thought of the two, but specifically Veneer.

The guards leaned in closer and observed the shirt closer before they parted the way, allowing Avery to squeeze past her. One of the guards followed her down the hallway.

“To the door to the left,” he said from behind her, making her jump. The closer she came to the door, and soon her hand was on it. She was about to meet the people who inspired her the most…

Avery snapped out of it. She had been so out of it that she didn’t remember where she was or what she was going. Something felt wrong. When Avery looked up to the stage, she noticed her. A beautiful woman with a sparkling blue dress and pure white hair that touched her waist. Rebel Rivers. She was on the stage with small creatures on her shoulders. They were Trolls…?

Everyone quieted for Rivers as she called out to the crowd, “Brozone and I are happy to announce our collaboration and celebration of smaller artists with our Battle of the Bands! Brozone and I will open with some banging music before we ourselves will become judges. MAKE SURE TO COME BACK NEXT MONTH AND SIGN UP STARTING TODAY! The first ten people to sign up get autographs from Brozone and me! Cheers, my loves!” She blew a kiss to the crowd, and everyone screamed their approval.

Everyone except Avery.

This had been what Gracie was talking about earlier in the day. A special announcement.

Avery felt as though she was about to cry. She couldn’t breathe. Remembering everything upset her, and now Rivers was in the same room as her. When Gracie was preoccupied with her boyfriend, she slipped out of the Boom Box, her legs heavy as she dragged them. The wind felt cold against her cheeks as she cried to herself. She shouldn’t have come tonight.

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atzfilm · 2 years ago

Text

clair de lune. (m) - part seven

genre; yandere, vampire!au, reincarnation! au angst, smut

pairing; ot8/f.reader

word count: 23k

warnings; manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut, gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, brief talk of religion, mass murder

summary; you’ve finally gotten the chance to enter “clair de lune”, a infamous night club to see the band hiraeth. but why did you feel like their eyes only watched you?

note: this first deals with the subject of yandere. with that being said, a lot of the things happening in this fiction will be manipulation, gaslighting, and various other techniques displayed by the characters. if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read.

masterlist | final

Chapter 7:

He balances the two fruits in his hands. In another time, maybe years from now, it’d be humorous to take the box of peaches and bring them home to you. Maybe you’d scold him but laugh after a while. But now, it’s not the case. He grimaces at the thin film coating the apples, eyes flicking to the imported country it came from. He only sighs, placing it lightly on the top of the pile and continuing down the aisle. What other fruits did you like? He cannot recall any that you’ve mentioned, Wooyoung being the one to insist on buying you peaches. It’s interesting that none of them asked you if you truly liked it, if it was your favorite fruit just as it was Rose’s. Another failure on their part, he supposes. In all honesty, he cannot recall you mentioning anything about peaches. He throws in a few vegetables he’s seen you eat without scrunching your nose, a warmth overcoming him at the image. Though you are not as close with him as many of the others, he enjoys your presence, nonetheless. If it were possible to somehow turn back time, make you see him as he is now, he would have. If it were so, maybe you’d see him in a different light. Maybe you would smile at him just as you do with Yeosang.

Or did, rather.

He sighs, placing his basket upon the counter and softly thanking the cashier for scanning. Just as he begins to bag a familiar scent fills his nose.

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, not bothering to glance back to see the man. “We have an agreement, Han. Or are you too isolated from the others that Subin cannot reign you in?”

“Your scent has always been in its best condition.” He enters his view, leaning against the wall as he watches him pack the food. “I’d never thought I'd see the day Park Seonghwa shopped in a market.”

“Come back at the same time in a few days and you’ll see me again.” He ties the bag, eyes flicking to his old friend’s. He looks sickly in comparison, skin translucent, eyes bloodshot. Even his hair looks thin and brittle, the long strands framing his face can easily fall with a high burst of wind. At another time, he’d feel pity. On another day, he’d even offer him some blood. But all he can do is shake his head, stepping past him.

“You treat me as if we were never friends, Park.”

“What do you expect me to do, welcome you with open arms?” Seonghwa holds the door for him. “We’ve had an agreement for over a century. And as you may know, it’s been broken a few times the past few months. Not wise to come here and break it even more.”

“I have not touched one human on your side.”

“That I can tell,” his breath is long as he turns back to him. “What do you want? Blood? I cannot give it to you, you know that. Joong would kill me before even touching you. And I'd rather keep all my limbs. They're quite helpful–"

"I don't care for blood, Park. If that were the case, I would have left long ago."

He doubts that entirely on his appearance alone. But he lets him speak. There's little chance for anything other than a few jabs here and there. Maybe an insult. "What do you desire then?"

"y/n is leaving," he starts. "Asking how I know is a moot point, but everyone knows. Clans beyond just ours. We aren't sure if Sejun shared it or not, but word is spreading. She will not be as safe as you think outside your walls. Once she is away, she will be hunted. Every vampire desires to taste the blood of the descendant of the first woman who was turned. Especially since she belongs to you all. It will not end well."

It is as he expected. Seonghwa grips his bag, thinking. The first thought is to tell Hongjoong, have him come up with a plan. The next, perhaps tell you of the danger? Have you stay longer in their care? He doubts you'd even consider it. But what other choice does he have? Letting you step outside and die? Seonghwa’s gaze moves to your old best friend's.

"What are you gaining out of telling me this?"

"Protection."

If his brows could furrow tighter, they would. "Pardon?"

He sighs loudly, glancing behind him before turning back around. "Subin is planning something big, and I need your word that you will protect me when it happens. I will do anything for my clan leader, but I cannot and will not risk my life for a woman I barely know."

"That's quite sad, seeing as she's been your friend for several years now."

"Seonghwa," He hisses.

"I cannot promise something that has no value. Unlike you, I am under the will of my captain. What he says goes. If he wants me to kill you at this very moment, I'd do it without hesitation. My loyalty is solid. I am sorry." And it is genuine. Having to nearly beg on your knees in front of your enemy for your life is not what he wishes upon any. It goes beyond pathetic. Almost revolting as he sees the defeat in Seungwoo's gaze.

"Will any of you ever think for yourselves? It's been hundreds of years and you are still under his thumb. It's pitiful. Especially for you, Seonghwa. He will never look at you the way he looks at her. Sooner or later you'll see that he will pick her every time."

His grip tightens around the bag in his hand. "My interpersonal relationships are of no consequence to you. And you're telling me things I already know. Do you think that I've spent these years deluded? I know where I stand in my relationships. But it seems that you still don't," he takes a step toward him. "I feel bad for you. Your clan leader is so involved with himself that he does not care about all of you. Hongjoong could care about me the least and he will never neglect me to the point I'd have to follow my enemy into a grocery store, and beg for protection. It's laughable, now that I look at you."

His lip quips at the glare forming on his face.

"Seems like I've been wrong about you. You're the same as the rest."

"That's your fault for taking my kindness for weakness, Han. Now go before one of the others appear. They don't take trespassing as lightly as I do."

Seungwoo stands there for a moment longer. He looks as if he wants to say more, but all he does is shake his head, disappearing down the street. Once he's out of view, Seonghwa sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Mild surprise is an understatement. He'd rather not deal with the aftermath of telling the others of his presence, but lying by omission will only make everything much worse.

He slides into his slippers just as he enters his home. There's always a few conversations happening when he enters, often Wooyoung bickering with San, or Mingi and Yunho teasing one another. But all he can hear is silence. He glances in the empty living room before entering the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table. Should he check up on you? Or have you left somewhere with the others? It's not uncommon for one of them to steal you without telling anyone else.

A door just outside the kitchen slams against the wooden pane, splintering from the force. Seonghwa winces, sighing. What happened now? He leaves his groceries unmanned, peeking out the kitchen doorway. Yunho stands there, pacing back and forth, gaze glossed over. He doesn't bother saying a word to him, Mingi stepping out of the room after him. His eyes flick to Seonghwa, widening before looking away.

Said man’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What happened?”

“He took her, hyung,” Mingi whispers, wincing as Yunho’s fist hits the wall beside him. “We were too slow, we didn’t get to her in time.” The steaming coffee in his hand spills, skin unaffected.

Without another word, Seonghwa moves past the both of them, striding down the hall. His eyes move to the small group of them crowding around your door. They step aside as he enters her room. The first thing he notices is the broken window, and no signs of you. All he could think is that you're gone. They lost you when you were underneath their roof. And he was out and about, unable to help.

Just like before.

“I’ll take care of you, y/n. I’m not like the rest of them,” his touch is rough, bumpy scars dragging along your cheek. You flinch but he only digs his nails deeper, forcing you to stare at him. Just as he leans forward, you let out a brief cry. His eyes narrow, letting you go. You tug on the metal that encases your ankles, grunting. It’s hopeless, fruitless, you know that. Especially with him standing there and watching you. But you’re desperate, your thoughts only on you leaving.

“What do you hope to achieve with this?” You ask, turning to him. “Do you think this kidnapping will make me trust you? Because I feel far from it, Sejun.”

“From what I remember you liked being tied up.”

“I am not Rose,” your tone is filled with exhaustion. It’s as if none of them listen. You’re not that woman, you’ll never be. No matter how much they desire it. “I”ll never be her. All of you need to move on for fuck’s sake.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “You don’t remember anything at all? Those little visions didn’t help you figure out that they’re fucked in the head? Vampirism doesn’t only force you to suck the blood out of humans forever, y/n. It does some crazy shit to you. Makes you believe things that aren’t true. They don't love you, never will.”

He leans against the wall. "You say you're not Rose but you are just as stubborn, just as oblivious. Though she did take the easy way out while you seem to be hanging on a bit longer," His head tilts as he loses himself in thought. "You said you were leaving, where are you going?"

"Home."

His brows furrow. "Home? You’ve decided to endanger your family because you're afraid of solving your own problems? Taking that great of a risk is not wise. They want you, and they will do anything for it. Your family will only end up being pawns. Though I am sure they know where they live, entering your family’s home is a death sentence."

"Then what can I do? They're all I have; none of my friends respond to my calls or texts, my apartment is flooded, I have nothing. All I have left is them, and I can't stay there," You can feel the tears threatening to fall. "Your brother poisoned me, you know that? He wanted me to be like them so desperately he fucking poisoned the peaches I ate."

A surprised laugh punctuates his sentence, shaking his head. "A bit of a shock, no? That kid loves human warmth more than anything. Thought he'd let you live longer than that. Must have ruffled his feathers in some way," he tsks. "Too late now, I suppose."

"Why did you pretend to be Seonghwa?" You ask, ignoring his harsh words. "Why would you try to convince me to stay?"

He shrugs, "To make you believe that I was actually him. I was taking you with me either way. Just easier for you to think I was him so we could leave without catching unnecessary attention. Unfortunately plans changed when you noticed my body temperature," he sighs, rubbing his forearm. "Pity that Hongjoong couldn't duplicate it for the rest of them. You wouldn't have noticed then."

"Why would he turn you?"

"Believe it or not," he rocks on his heels. "Him and I were good friends before this all happened. For a while. Longer than he's known the clan he's with now. Not as close, no, but I was the experiment of his. The first person he turned," his sigh is exaggerated, prolonged. "The person who made him into this didn't exactly like that. Made it so no one else could be as we are. He probably hates my existence now, but there's little he can do about it. Him and I are nearly the same age, give or take a few years. But that matters so little, so I digress."

There's something bothering you about his words. The possibility of him being the first turned is fine, sure. But it wouldn't make sense if he's Wooyoung's brother. He watches you as you think it through, head spinning. The way Wooyoung crumbled to the ground when he saw him, they must be related in some way. Devastation like that is hard to fake.

"Wooyoung and I are not blood brothers," he interrupts your thoughts, answering the lingering question. "He believes it because his captain convinced him. The reasoning is beyond my own knowledge, but I followed everything he said back then. Not as much now, since his influence no longer works on me. I've learned to ignore those deep whispers in my mind," he taps his temple. "Unfortunately, Wooyoung will never know. But lies fall from his lips anyway so he shouldn't be that disappointed."

"I saw how he looked at you, Sejun. He cares for you deeply, cared. He thought you were dead. He’d be broken if he found out the truth." The way his hold trembled against yours in that shop, the drop to the floor due to the onslaught of emotions. "You speak of him like he's an inconvenience."

"That he is," he shrugs. "You were my goal in the end, nothing more. His attachment to a man that died hundreds of years ago is none of my concern."

"Why me?"

This time he stares, eyes flicking over your body. It chills you the way his stare hardens, swallowing slowly. "When Rose was alive I made mistakes. It's nothing I can fix nor apologize for because she's dead. And before your thoughts stray, I am not obsessed with you like the others. I acknowledge that you are different. It is just that, the thought of there being another Rose was impossible in my mind. No, in fact, it was never a thought of mine. Once she died, the horror was over. All of us would be able to live our separate lives without ever meeting again. Subin made the choice of keeping an eye on them, which was a mistake, but in a way, a good thing. Neither of us would have found out about you.

"Hongjoong has always had this obsession with things that were out of his reach. The past is irrelevant now, but much of it can explain why he is the way he is now. To put it simply: He has been in love with every iteration of you. And every time he gets close, he loses you. Rose, her mother, her grandmother. I thought the line would have ended since Rose was unable to have children. Unfortunately her soul still lives on," His nose wrinkles. "Thousands of years have only made the obsession fester rather than dissipate. Your appearance resembling Rose has only amplified his delusions. None of this is your fault, y/n. If it were possible to change your face, your soul, it would have been done already. I owe that much to your prior life,” his eyes flick over you, pained. “Saying sorry to you means nothing because you’re not her, but I am. I am deeply apologetic.”

You take in his words, eyes glued to the floor. Rose had a hard life from the glimpses you’ve witnessed. She struggled every waking moment, moreso when she met this clan. You’re not sure what happened between her and Sejun, but from the way he speaks they were involved somehow. Romantically more than likely; from what you’ve seen, Rose enjoyed her extracurricular activities. And Sejun is far from ugly. You suck in a breath, thinking. Is there any way to convince him to let you go? It may be unlikely since he infiltrated their home just to get you. So why, what is the reason?

“What are you planning on doing with me, then?”

He swallows slowly. “I owe Subin. To put it simply: I fucked up back then and ruined everything. I never got the chance to apologize to him, so I told him I’ll do him a favor. He wanted you, so I agreed. It would have been farther down the line, but Hanse is dead now. He only has a few left in his clan and he doesn’t want to risk any of them. So he asked me to get you. I’m supposed to bring you to him right now actually, but I wanted to speak to you alone. Hopefully get a look into that head of yours, and see what you’re thinking. So far there’s nothing interesting.”

“An insult, how kind of you,” you frown. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I can see why it’s hard for them to tell the difference. You’re more alike than you think.”

“The restraints then?” you gesture to them. “Do you expect me to run? I wouldn’t get far, anyway.”

“You still tugged on them a bit. And it’s easier to speak to you without having to chase you around this room," he slides down the wall, sitting. "Maybe try to change your mind about going back to them after this all blows over."

"... I'm not going back."

He chuckles dryly, "Right. Just like the sun isn't going to rise tomorrow. Listen, Subin is going to attempt to kill you."

"What the fuck?" You pull harshly on the chains. "And you expect me to just agree?"

"Who the hell would agree to that?" He scoffs. "No, I'm warning you before we get there. Just because I owe him a favor doesn't mean I'm gonna let you walk in there blind. Rose back then wanted him to kill her if she was close to turning, and he agreed to it. In his mind he believes the promise is still valid despite you two being different people. Tell him no, and agree to his plan that he suggests otherwise. We will move from there."

"We, there's still a we in this? How can I believe anything you're saying?"

He stands, moving closer to you. He tugs lightly, chains immediately falling apart in his grip. "There's no reason for you to. You shouldn't believe any of us in all honesty. All of us have our agendas. Mine just happens to line up with yours. I don't want you to die. Not like this. Not again. Suffering in another life because of all of us. It's hard to believe I know that, but what options do you have? Subin, the kid that wants to bury you? Your newly adopted clan that's willing to turn you into one of them without your permission? Again? Rough choices."

You rub your wrist as you look up at him. He crouches and pulls off the restraints around your ankles. There are choices. You can run, eventually get caught by one of them. Try to kill them, though you are very aware of how that ended for Rose. And you have less than half of the confidence and strife she had back then. You couldn't even watch the man who poisoned you suffer, unlikely you'd be able to hurt any of them yourself. Running home. Risking your family– No. You look at Sejun. You cannot trust him, but what else can you do? What other choice do you have?

"I don't trust you."

"I know."

"All of this, in the end, will I be free?"

He stares at you. "Honestly? Probably not. I might die before we get to the end. Actually, I'm pretty sure I will when Hongjoong finds me," he rubs the back of his neck. "But I'm not afraid of death. It's been long enough. I'll try my best to lend you my knowledge before I go. I'll leave the rest to you."

There's something else.

"Sejun," you start, slowly standing. "What were you to Rose?"

He grins, "An asshole ex, y/n."

“Did you…?” You don’t say the words.

“I had a temper back then. I hurt her accidentally plenty of times, yes. But after the first time, is it really an accident?” He keeps his gaze to the floor. “I hurt her even if I thought I didn’t mean it. I did it. Just another part of her suffering back then. I’d do anything to change back time, somehow remove myself from Hongjoong, from her life. I deserve to suffer twice as long as she has. I can help you now.”

"We have to get her."

"No," Hongjoong adjusts his coat, frowning as he pulls off a dust ball. "She made her choice. She wants us gone, she wants to leave, then let her. No more rescue missions, no more devoting our hours to her. Let her go."

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, "You have to understand that I do not believe a word falling from your lips."

Hongjoong snickers, shrugging. "Then that is so. Either way, it is unwise for any of you to go running after her. It is for her own good. She refused to trust us and our words, so she will suffer the consequences. She will see what it means to have us removed from her life."

Yeosang steps closer, "He may hurt her–"

"A few bruises never hurt anyone," he points out. "You know that well."

His hands slowly form into fists as he glares at him. Hongjoong notes this, tilting his head as he stares at his friend. "What will you do, hm? Go against my words? You know you don't have to follow them. You can run after her if you'd like. She would probably want to see you the most. As she always has."

"You will not stop us?" Yunho's brows furrow, arms crossed against his chest. "That is unlike you."

"Because I know you will see how unsuccessful the venture will be. He will not go down without a fight. He will kill every single one of you because he is nearly as strong as I. Have you forgotten? He has the privilege, he is older than you all. Human blood still runs through his veins. The only one who stands a chance is myself, and I want to teach her a lesson. So go if you like, lose your lives so that I am the only one remaining. I am sure she would enjoy it."

The others say nothing. Jongho is the first to break the silence.

"Then what will we do?"

His wild, cheshire grin stuns them. "We go to our show. We perform, and we feed. I will tell you the next step then."

“Pull yourself together.”

San watches as Yeosang paces back and forth, fists clenching and unclenching. He has rarely ever seen him filled with this much fury, thoughts seemingly scattered as he ignores every word San attempts to tell him. San tried to stop his pacing but was met with such angst that he moved out of the way, letting him continue. Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair, breaths heavy as he controls his breathing.

“It’s been days. Subin will kill her,” he starts, looking at San. “There is no doubt in it. y/n will die.”

“We aren’t certain of it—”

“He’s spoken about it for centuries, San. Centuries. A day with her isn’t going to change his mind and we both know it. She’s going to die,” Yeosang holds himself up against the wall, unable to handle the onslaught of emotions cascading from him. He’s forced himself to not feel for all this time, to push back the thoughts that caged him inside of this body, made him ill for an unknown amount of time. But how can he stand here and listen to Hongjoong? He finally has you, and he’s already lost you once more. “If she dies–”

“You will not perish along with her,” Wooyoung enters the room, shooting San a look. “Control yourself Yeosang, I thought you were over this.”

He shakes his head, gaze lifting from the floor to look at his friend. “Do not stand there and pretend all of this isn’t your fault. You poisoned her and you made me lie. You influenced my hand without my permission. When you explicitly told me you’d never use your hold against me again, you did. And now we’ve lost her.”

“I poisoned her for everyone’s sake. She would have been ours. Right, Sannie?” Wooyoung looks at his closest friend, “Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?”

San swallows softly, looking between his two friends. It’s been like this ever since Wooyoung turned Yeosang. A push and pull between the three of them, a longing in Wooyoung’s eyes as he desperately wanted Yeosang to accept him as he is, followed by refutation every single time. Growing closer with San because of it, the relationship between the trio strained. He rubs his face, thinking.

“I want her, yes,” he says simply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with either of them. He’s learned that it is best to toe the line, never choosing a side. “But it is likely we might not ever see her again if we continue down this path.” Not until now, of course.

Wooyoung’s bright smile wavers, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“If you don’t understand his words then you never will, Woo,” Yeosang says softly. “All he has ever done is try to nurture you, to accept you as you are now, mourn who you once were. We all have at some point. But it is hard when your mind is so diluted with need for her that you cannot think properly. How many times must we go through this to try and make you see that what you’re doing is not okay?”

“I’ve been this way long enough for you to get used to it,” he sucks his teeth. “And don’t place all the blame on me. It wasn’t my idea to flood her apartment. I wasn’t the one who killed her friend. We all have a role in this. I’m sorry if you loved the pathetic man I was before, he’s been gone for hundreds of years now.”

“You call him pathetic,” Yeosang whispers. “But I called him my best friend.”

Wooyoung steps closer to him, crouching down to meet his gaze. “Called, you say? Am I no longer that? Do you no longer consider me your best friend?”

He says nothing then, the tension thickening in the room. Wooyoung takes several steps toward him, San standing in the way. He merely laughs at his friend, pushing him aside. He stands just before Yeosang, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Do you consider me your best friend, Kang Yeosang?”

Yeosang swallows. Though he does not say it, Wooyoung can see the twitch of his lip, the slight shake of his head. It is enough to push him to the edge. His eyes darkened, red slowly fading.

“You will listen to my words now and follow them,” his fingers dig into Yeosang’s shoulder as he stares down at him. “Every word that I tell y/n you will agree is true. You will convince her that I am not as bad as she may think, and you will do it diligently. If she does not believe you after days of trying…” Wooyoung trails off, eyes glazed over. “If she does not believe you, you will leave this home. And you will not remember me being the one to tell you this."

“Wooyoung—” Yeosang’s eyes widen, trying to remove himself from his grip.

“Enough.”

They all turn to the new arrival, Yunho leaning against the door frame. He frowns at them all, lingering on Yeosang’s crouched body, Wooyoung’s grip. Said man lets him go, though there is a sly smile on his lips. “Hongjoong found out where she is.”

“Do we go against his word?”

“Is there any other way? We’ve followed along with him for centuries with little protest. Of course, there will come a time when we do not. And that time is now,” Yunho stretches his hands through the sweater, adjusting it in the mirror. “We do this on our own.”

“Hongjoong said we’d be killed.”

“And you believe him?”

Wooyoung purses his lips, eyes shifting to Seonghwa in the corner of the room. “There was never a reason for me not to."

“A lot of things you don’t know about, Wooyoung,” Yunho tosses Seonghwa his bag, scoffing at how the man dodges it, letting it fall to the floor. “He isn’t coming with us so there’s no need to worry about him.”

“He’ll tell captain.”

“Probably,” Yunho shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. “Hongjoong could stop us if he wants to. Doubt it though.”

“Why?”

Yunho sighs, turning back to him. “When were you ever one to ask so many questions? You usually follow.”

“It’s…” Wooyoung’s eyes shift to Yeosang, noticing how the man is curled on the floor, eyes shut. There’s little he can do to persuade him to come unless he forces him to, but he’s dealt with those consequences already. Doing it again will only feed his benefit, and no one else’s. Wooyoung sighs, buttoning up the leather jacket he does not need, shifting his eyes to San in the far corner. He leans against the wall, watching the two of them. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Not long,” Yunho shrugs. “They brought her to our club.”

This catches the attention of the others in the room, Seonghwa’s eyes widening at the news. Yeosang still does not move from his spot, even as San nudges his body. A knock on the door interrupts them, Hongjoong standing there silently.

“Ready?”

They tense, only causing him to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t go alone. There will be others to handle there other than Subin,” he glances at Wooyoung. “I’m going to kill him for good this time. You know that right?” He does not utter the name, but he sees how his body shifts at the thought. “Having him linger around is not wise, Woo. Especially around y/n.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes briefly. “I know that.”

“Then I need your word you will not interfere when I do so.”

He sucks in a breath, nodding. “You have it."

Hongjoong chuckles dryly. “Great. You’re staying here with Yeosang.”

“Captain—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping his incoming rant. “No need to protest because I will continue to stand here and deny your requests until I am blue in the face. No. You’re not coming, and you’re staying with the man you’ve manipulated for months on end. These are only the consequences of your own actions, Wooyoung," he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. "Did you believe I would let you off the hook just because she favors you? I have not forgotten what you were doing. If she were not there, you would no longer be on this Earth.” He tilts his head, thinking. “I could persuade her that you are a danger and truly remove you from our sights, but that would be unfair to the others. In their minds, some part of the old Wooyoung exists beneath the one we see today. But I’ve spoken too much. Yunho, San, let’s go.”

Hongjoong does not bother to acknowledge Seonghwa sitting on the opposing side of the room, exiting without another word. San nods at the others, following behind Yunho and his captain. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the three alone.

Freedom only seems to mock you as you gaze upon it only a few steps away, lit by the fire encased inside lanterns adorning the hallways. It is of no fault of your own that you missed how eerie it truly is inside of their club; consumed by loud music and screaming concert-goers. Still you can’t help but scoff at the blatantly obvious red flags only steps away from the door. Perhaps everyone else was too intoxicated to notice the strange markings on the walls, the endless hallways. All of it brings strange feelings within you, auras of discomfort. Spending time here without the crowds of people makes it seem all the more odd. If it weren’t for Sejun pulling you into the back room, you would have left without a second thought given.

“Their allurement is what makes this place lively. Without them it only feels like a creepy box,” he says, matching your thoughts entirely. “They never needed to clean up this place; blood stains the floors and walls. Disgusting if we truly think about it, though Seonghwa himself tries his best to make it look at least presentable. Now he doesn’t have much time to do so since he spends his days with you.”

If there was a semblance of jealousy in his words you cannot find it. He drops your wrist, shutting the stage door behind him as he paces back and forth. He seems unsettled, and you don’t speak up to make him even more so. His eyes flick to you, narrowing when they meet. “Subin told me he’d be here.”

“And I was not lying about it, friend,” his voice appears just behind you, goosebumps covering your skin. You turn around, meeting the deep, tired eyes of Rose’s brother. He nods at you, glancing around to look at Sejun. “Did they follow you?”

“They’re too preoccupied in their own snags to pay attention to their surroundings. Though I’m fairly certain Jongho has figured it out by now, he seems attune to her scent the most.”

“Our time is limited, then,” Subin sighs, focusing back on you. He takes a step forward only for you to mirror him. He tilts his head back in exasperation. “They will come for you soon y/n, it’s best to end this now.”

“End what exactly? I’ve spoken to you twice in the past few months, and we never discussed anything ‘ending’. Be more specific.”

A smile rests on his face, “Never-ending in your quick wit even after hundreds of years passed.” He rests against the familiar seat, one you sat in when you first met them all; the beginning of your descent into their hands. If you knew then, you would have never accepted your friend’s invitation to the performance. Things would be different. He seems to know it as well, fingers brushing against the leather cushions.

"When you were my sister, you spoke to me about ending your life if you were ever in danger of being turned into one of them. Us, rather. Back then I was too involved with the captain to take your words to heart, but by the time I realized you were in peril I was too late. You’ve already died. I mourned for you, for the loss of ever knowing you, and I thought that was done. I accepted your fate. But seeing you now, after Hanse told me of your presence in the club, it felt like almost a favor. I have always been quite a religious man, so it must have been an act of God. He’s given me another opportunity to save you. Who would I be if I didn’t take it?”

Oh, they are all misguided, aren’t they? Sejun does not seem to believe his words either, rolling his eyes as Subin speaks.

“You believe that I would want you to kill me now?” You furrow your brows. “You do understand that we are not the same people?”

“Outer appearance does not matter, though you look eerily alike,” he notes, “It was a promise I plan to keep, y/n. There’s no reason for me to break it now.”

“Well I do have one.” You have several, in fact. “I am not her, so the promise does not hold true. And I do believe you have bigger problems. You have no more places to feed, Subin. That’s something you should be worried about.” And forget about you completely, hopefully. "Continuing to follow me around when I'm with them is not a good idea."

"You wish to be with men that would kill anyone who speaks to you?" His brows furrow. "You're worried for me because you know they'll kill me if given the chance. That's who you desire to be with? Are you sure of your choice?"

"Hongjoong said he wouldn't–" you stop in the middle of your diatribe, remembering the switch of tone, the evil lurking in his gaze when he proclaimed that he'd kill Subin. "I'm leaving them so you don't need to worry anymore. Just leave me alone, come up with a compromise that doesn't lead to your death. Rose and I both will be happy if you stay alive." As alive as a vampire can be. But you digress.

"Rose hated me," Subin frowns. "When I became like this she hated it. She would have killed me if she saw me alive today, not let me live. That is the difference between the two of you. Rose hated vampires, hated the bloodshed, hated being one. You do not hate it. They will take advantage of that. They already have. You were being poisoned by Wooyoung and you saved him. Do you realize how tightly they've dug themselves into your life? You saved the monster that was slowly killing you. You didn't run out of fear, leave immediately. You saved him. How can you not see?"

Sejun scoffs from his corner, shaking his head. "Fucking hell."

There’s no use in questioning how he knows, all of these vampires seem to know things you’ve never uttered. "I'm already gone, I can go somewhere. Maybe abroad, I don't know," you stumble over your words, knowing it's of no use. They will find you anywhere. Your time apart will be brief, until you see them stumbling into somewhere you've escaped to. So you say the only thing you can think of.

"I don't want to die, Subin. I've barely lived."

Subin’s brows furrow, eyes filled with sorrow. "Is that what you desire? Do you truly want to live the rest of your life in fear of them? Unable to run away?"

No. That's not what you want. "I want to live as I did before and I know it's not possible anymore. But do I have no other choice than death? There's nothing else I can do?"

"There are few things in this world that make Hongjoong weak. Though most he would never admit to."

"Care to share?"

"That makeshift family of is," he waves his hand, nose wrinkled. "He will never say the words himself, but they are the remainder of humanity he has left. I am sure he has told both you and Rose, but he wasn't this… caring when it came to humans. Not until he met those seven. Especially Wooyoung. He is quite fond of Sejun’s brother even if he would kill him in just a brief moment," he furrows his brows in thought. "I am sure it will haunt him until the end of his days."

You can't imagine hurting any of them. Their past is something that often buries itself in the back of your mind, but never irks you. Killing them to get back at Hongjoong will never be a choice of yours. Even Wooyoung, the man who slowly poisoned you. It is all stupid and ridiculous when you think deeply about it. But so is love, unfortunately.

"And you, y/n," he says. "You are his weakness. He will kill every single person on this planet so that you're content. I would advise to never divulge what your past partners have done, or old friends. They would end up in the back of the papers soon enough. Now that I think of it though, you can use that to your advantage. He is infatuated with you. Make him believe you love him the same, then kill him."

"Kill him?" Rose back then would have done it without a second thought. But you? You step on a small beetle by accident and it ruins your week. Making Hongjoong fall for your lies then killing him… it's unimaginable. "That's the only choice I have?"

"y/n, listen to my words carefully." He bends his knees, balancing on the edges of his feet as he meets your eyes. "Hongjoong will not stop until he gets what he wants. He has waited hundreds of years to have you. He is smart – he will be able to read the lies you feed him."

Subin’s eyes flick behind you, before meeting your gaze again. "Every creature can be killed. Even abominations like us. That you know from Hanse's death. If you would like, I can tell you our weaknesses. I couldn't save you back then, I was too late. But if you would let me, I can save you now. I can show you how to, to finish the plan that Rose couldn't complete herself."

Kill them?

The thought pains you. It's the last thing you want. But seeing how tortured they are, how easily they could switch their personalities, how they more than likely forced Rose to become a vampire, how Wooyoung attempted the same for you.

You have no choice.

You glance back at Sejun, his snickers and jabs silent now, wanting for your response. You turn back to Subin, Rose's brother. His expression doesn't give away anything, patiently waiting for you to decide. You close your eyes, ignore how much your chest hurts at even considering it. Pushing through your heart's desire, you nod slowly.

"Okay."

Hongjoong is the first to enter, hands resting against his back. His shoes echo across the hardwood. Though he cannot quite decipher who is in the room with you, he can smell you. And that scent overpowers them all. Yunho and San follow just behind him, blades in hand, coated with poison. Subin has kept to himself for decades now, barely interfering with the others. Your presence has brought them happiness, but has led to this. Not that any of them mind, really. If it meant that they would have you, they’d do anything for it.

“They’re here,” Sejun stands, moving closer to you. “We don’t have time. Remember what we’ve told you?” He asks, fingers wrapping around your bicep. “We are going to die, and you will do everything possible to stop them. Do you understand?”

“They wouldn’t–”

“They would, my dear sister,” Subin says simply, eyes flicking to the door. “I’m quite sad that we were not given the chance to catch up once again, but I do hope if there is some afterlife, I can meet Rose.” His jaw tightens, hands slipping behind his back. “Promise you will rid of them soon.”

You hesitantly nod, and he gives you a small grin back. “Of course, I will have to show them a bit of blood to get them going. It will be quick, y/n. They'll heal you, alright?"

"What–"

Your sentence is cut off by the sharp blade pushed into your stomach. Sejun’s eyes widen as Subin slowly slides it out of you, the pain too overwhelming for you to even utter a sound, falling to your knees. Your hands immediately go to the cut, gasps falling from your lips as you turn down to look at it. He pushed it in deep, the blood spilling down your shirt quickly, staining the hardwood floors. He throws his arm back too quick for you to prepare, his fist landing against your cheek.

Sejun’s eyes burn into Subin’s. “You idiot–”

The door is thrown open, Sejun backing away from the two of you as they enter. You can't quite concentrate on what's happening, the sounds of murder happening around you. Shouting and screaming, bones breaking, the smell of blood filling the air. Sejun is thrown down next to you. Several cuts covering his skin, brown blood spilling from his wounds. He coughs, grabbing one of your hands. Forcing you to focus on his words.

"Kill them," his grip on your hand is tight. You can barely see his eyes through the blood covering his face, his hold growing weaker as the seconds pass. "Kill them and you'll finally be free."

Blood splatters in your eyes, covering your face just as he finishes his words. Hongjoong from just behind you drives the stick deeper into his chest, grunting the more force he puts into it.

Your vision blurs as you stare at the blackened blood dripping down your hand, disappearing beneath your sleeve. This was never something that you wanted, despite it being in their plan. Sejun was not supposed to die. You do not doubt that he's done things to Rose in the past, things lost to you. But he's helped since you've spoken to him. It's silly to be upset about his death, but here you are. Staring down at his bloodied body, fingers slowly curling into your palm, hands trembling. Your eyes lift to the murderer, eyes wide as he stares at the body beneath him. He touches his face, smearing his skin with whatever poison he used. The exact one Subin provided for you just moments ago.

"Joong…"

He turns around, expression softening when he sees how distraught you look. His warm fingers brush against your cheek. You wince at the touch as he apologizes for pressing too hard against your skin. His lips press against your forehead, a sorry escaping them. You welcome his touch, sighing as he pulls you against him. His smell encompasses you, your sore wrists aching as you grip his leather coat. He lifts you with ease, your lids too swollen for you to open them. Is it tears? You're not too sure.

The room is quiet. No longer do you hear the crunching of limbs, the muffled screams as they ripped Sejun apart. No. All you can hear is the way your heartbeat throbs in your ear, the breaths of Hongjoong as he guides you out of the room. How foolish of you to believe that you did not need him? That you were so stubborn to see that without him, you would be safe? In the end you're still entrapped in his embrace, softened at the delicate care he does to bring you safely back to his clan, his coven. Your thoughts no longer linger on Sejun, or her brother, or any of the others, in fact.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, the sensitive cuts on your lips tingling as heavy breaths escape. "I should have trusted you." Why are you saying this? Why do the words not feel like your own?

"None of this is your fault," he whispers. "Trusting someone is a difficult task to undertake. Please do not speak anymore until you're able, alright?"

You cough, blood spilling from your lips. His eyes shift to your stomach. Without another word he drags his blade across his arm, lifting your shirt and pressing it against your cut. You gasp, gripping his forearm as he pushes it harshly. He whispers something you don’t bother to understand, holding you close.

The part of you that screamed for you to push him away is silent now. You can only tuck yourself further against him, feel the vibrations of his chest as he hums a song to you. You cannot quite place it, but it feels familiar. He does not begin conversation with you, asking how this happened. Instead he carries you out into the night, holding you close as he enters a car. You hear the soft voice of San speaking to him, their voices low enough that you do not bother straining to listen.

The scene you blocked out suddenly begins to replay in your head. Yunho appeared. You see the glimpse of Seungwoo behind your eyes over and over– when did he arrive? The terrible, garbled scream that left her brother– Subin’s, chest. The sickening sounds of him dying. Did Rose hear this often? How was she able to handle it; the carnage, the smell, the sounds? They only seem to roll on a tape over and over again in your mind.

"What can I do?"

You know he's speaking to you, lips dry as you run your tongue over the cracks, the metal taste coating your tongue. "Nothing." Time passing is only making your head spin. Where's Hongjoong? When did the car start moving? Will you ever see your family again?

"...Okay," San says simply. Hongjoong must have left some time ago, the hum of the car is the only sound around you. "I can't lose you again." His voice is softer. You force an eye open. His fingers are curled around the steering wheel, body rigid. His eyes flick to the rearview often, fingers fidgeting. You're not too sure what your relationship with him is – he's avoided you for weeks now. Now though, you can see how he thinks he cares for you, worry coating his face. His shirt is stained just like the others. Did he kill? Was it Seungwoo? Sejun? Subin? It's all a blur to you now.

How could you pretend to care for any of them when you want to run away? "You will," you respond, lids heavy. "You have already."

"Is there nothing I can do–"

"Yes, there's nothing." Why lie? Why continue the lies that they've started? There is not a moment where you could look at any of them and feel some sort of happiness. "You've lied."

"Rose."

"And you've never called me by my name despite me desperately asking for it, San. You've treated me like the woman you've once loved since we met, and you expect me to love you back? You don't see me." Your throat hurts as you speak to him, but you've wanted to let it out. Show him how it feels to be treated like her. "Let's no longer pretend that you do."

He does not respond. You tuck your legs further into your body. You told him you wouldn't lie, but why does it feel like you are? Why the fuck do you care so much about these men that could give two shits about you? To the point that they're slowly carving you into Rose, a woman that despised their very being? And why are you so desperate for them to see you as yourself, as a human woman completely disconnected from your prior life? Have you so deeply involved yourself that you need their love, their affection? Is that why you've fallen for many of them so easily?

How the hell did that wound on your stomach heal so fast?

"I'm sorry, y/n."

What you find behind San's door shouldn't be as surprising as it is. His bed is in pieces, wooden beams scattered across the floors, sheets ripped into throwaway fabrics, pillow feathers floating around the room. Most furniture is destroyed. You take slow steps into the room, hand resting on the edge of the only intact piece: his desk. Fear slowly swallows you as you read the notes you see. Your name is written over and over. Neat in the beginning, slowly losing legibility as it goes on. By the end of the page the characters are mixed together, blood staining the page, paper punctured from how hard he pressed. One line is written clearly at the top of the page.

I will say your name, y/n.

It's been a couple of days since you've gotten back from your kidnapping, from that massacre in the backrooms of Clair de Lune. The smell of death still hasn't left your nose. It's the first time you've left your room, the men leaving your food outside of it, avoiding you in the hallways if you decided to leave. You would thank them under different circumstances, but now you know it's only because they don't want you to ever leave them.

Which bears the question on exactly why you haven't left yet. The blatant warnings are there. Wooyoung was legitimately poisoning you slowly. Many of the others must have known about it. So why are you still here? Why can't you make yourself leave?

Why does it feel like you can't?

"Are you alright?"

You glance at the door, Mingi and Seonghwa standing there. Mingi's arms rest against his chest, a slight limp as he enters. He still has not fully healed from the basement incident, though he looks healthier in complexion. Especially in comparison to you.

"He left," Mingi glances at Seonghwa, eyes flicking back to yours. "For a walk."

"Did the captain tell him to?" You ask, and Mingi shakes his head.

"He left on his own. As you can see," Mingi gestures to the surrounding area. "He's been a bit distraught since you've come back home. He thought leaving would help his mind settle. Mellow out for a while. Yeosang joined him."

"Yeosang?" Is that why you haven't seen him? You presumed that he was avoiding you, but it seems to be the opposite. Yeosang is the only one you could tolerate being around without getting upset, and now he's gone.

"He deals with San during these moments the best. Everyone agreed that he should join him to keep him in check. They shouldn't be gone for too long, so no need to worry."

Worrying is all that you do; especially for them.

But you only acknowledge his words with a quick nod, hands lingering on the edge of the desk. You have not seen Hongjoong either, though it is probably due to your insistence on not allowing him to enter your room. The others begged and pleaded for you to give him a chance – but how could you? His half promises and lack of care for your well-being has left you numb. Before meeting them, you were sure with your emotions, your feelings. Now you only feel like a shell of yourself. You rub your face, ignoring the two men watching as you go through your emotions.

“What will we do now, then?” your eyes shift to the side, noticing that Mingi left already. Strange how quiet a man of his size can be.

Seonghwa slowly moves into the room, arms resting against his chest. “Shall we have a meeting when they come back? I know that you still want to leave, so we can speak about it—”

“Seonghwa,” You lean against the table, wincing as your hip brushes against the wood. His eyebrows furrow as he glances at your hip, only for you to wave him off. “We’ve done enough talking to last a thousand lifetimes.” With how effortlessly Sejun manipulated you into thinking he was truly Seonghwa, there’s little doubt that one of the guys wouldn’t be able to persuade you to stay. Especially with the way he’s looking at you now. No wonder Rose fell for them with ease. It hurts you to even say the words.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is softer, eyes glued to the wooden floors. “I wasn’t here when he took you away. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head. “I should have noticed it wasn’t you from the start. The words you were saying were a bit…” Cheesy? Out of character? Overwhelming for the moment? Now that you think back to Sejun practically begging on his knees, his eyes were not his. They were a deeper brown. Seonghwa rarely, if ever, showed his brown eyes to you. Only in public, never in private. The truth was right in front of you, but you were too overcome with the events that passed to even recognize it.

“Did he speak poetry?” Seonghwa’s lip lifts, a smirk forming. “Sejun used to make fun of me often for my verbiage. I think he referred to it as having a stick up my ass.” You place your hand over your mouth, a laugh escaping. Seonghwa’s grin widens, light chuckles leaving his lips. “And now you laugh because you find it to be true.”

“It’s not… well, you do speak a bit proper sometimes. I just assumed it was because of your past. From a prestigious family?”

His eyes widen briefly, lips finally curving into a full smile. “Rose assumed the same of me when we first met. Maybe I do need to loosen my lips a bit more,” he sighs. “But nevertheless, I am apologetic."

He easily slides past the question about his family, but you let him have it. It’s not like you exactly overshare when it comes to yours. A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, Hongjoong lingering in the doorway. Seonghwa moves to the side, sending you a quick look before departing. Hongjoong remains unchanged from the night they found you. Your blood still stains his clothing, hair tousled, eyes red. He looks like he’s worse off in comparison to you. Just as Hongjoong begins to speak, you interrupt.

“Thank you.”

Your words stun him momentarily, raised hand falling to his side. You could almost smile at his shocked expression if you weren’t so exhausted. You hold your hand against the bandage covering your stomach. It’s barely scabbed over, blood still coating the gauze.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say again. “It’s more than what I’ve asked for but thank you. I’m not sure if I would have survived another day.” It’s very likely that you would have, especially with Sejun there. But stroking his ego might somewhat increase your chances to come out of this place alive. Vampirism isn’t something you exactly dreamed of undergoing.

“You’re not furious with me?” He asks his question slowly, eyes glued to your face. “Not in the slightest?”

“Why would I be angry at you for what Sejun and Subin did?” At least this part is somewhat true.

He swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips as he turns on his heels to the door, he shuts it behind him. "Did Sejun ever explain the reasoning as to why we separated?"

You shake your head, slowly sinking down into the stool in front of San's dresser. His face changes as he simmers in his thoughts.

"Sejun was supposed to watch her," Hongjoong's words almost feel desperate as he speaks to you, pacing around the ottoman. He stops in front of the bed, running his fingers through his hair, thinking. He seems to steady himself as he wraps his hand around one of the bed's pillars. "Rose. It was supposed to be brief but our ship needed maintenance so we stayed away a few months longer. That's when he wooed her, made her fall in love. It was my fault. When he arrived back on ship he told me all of his tales were false. I thought it was to get close to her brother. But when Rose appeared in front of me and told me of his sins, I could not take it," his grip on the pillars hardened, eyes narrowing. The concerned man he just showed you disappears in that instant. It only frightens you how easily he can turn his emotions. You sink further into the stool.

"I tore him from limb to limb, I let the others watch. I thought that was the end of it, no one could survive something like that, not even a vampire. His body was burned and thrown into the sea. So seeing him standing in that shop, none of it made any sense. It still doesn't. It is a pity that I was filled with so much rage I did not get the chance to ask."

He lets a sigh escape him, "And I allowed him into our home, allowed him to take you."

Your brows furrow. "No one knew he took me–"

He holds up his hand, "I knew. Do you think I do not know everything that goes on? Though I was mistaken and presumed he was himself, not disguised as Seonghwa to lure you. If any of us were there we would have seen through his shadow self. But it's harder for humans to."

The realization sinks into you slowly. You knew you were not safe with any of them, especially with him. But hearing him actually say it, express it–

“I allowed him to take you because you told us you did not need us. That you were okay on your own. And I wanted to honor your wishes so I let it happen. And you saved yourself, did you not? You allowed us to kill him with ease, Ro– y/n!" He smiles at you, true joy lining his features. "You saved yourself without our help, we just cleaned the mess."

Your eyes flick between his. "You let him take me. He brought me to Subin who almost killed me, and you let him take me.”

"You said you did not need saving, my sea. I let you make your own choices."

"Being kidnapped is not a choice, Hongjoong! If it were any of you I would have tried to help, not watch you be taken. Do you hear yourself? Do you?" You straighten your back, anger slowly rising. "I know you're mad, but this is beyond what I expected."

He tsks, wiggling his index finger as he silences you. "No no, this is exactly what you should expect. You do not want us involved with your affairs. You want to leave. I'm not going to go against your word when you insist on it being followed."

“Oh my God,” you rub your face, “What am I doing here? Why did I let you take me back here? This isn’t like me, I’d never do anything like this,” You stop speaking, turning your eyes to him. He keeps his small smile on his face, watching your breakdown. Elated at the way he’s affecting you. Hongjoong does not care. He never has no matter how much he proclaims it. There’s no remorse, not a hint of regret. “You want me to depend on you when you let me go?”

“You wanted it.”

“Hongjoong.”

He moves closer to you, hands covering yours. You try to pull from his grip but it only tightens.

“You fucking wanted it, Cassia,” His eyes widen, a laugh escaping his lips. It seems like he’s detached from himself, words spilling from his lips. “You wanted me to go away so I let you. I let you fucking leave me, leave me alone. What am I to do? I was so desperate for you. Everyone in the village wanted you but you looked at me. You told me you needed space to grow, to breathe. You looked me in my eyes and said that you wanted to be with me forever but you needed time. So I let you go, I let you follow that asshole monk. How was I to know what was going to happen? How could I guess what he would do?”

He moves closer to you, not noticing how frozen you are. His hand slowly reaches up, cupping your cheek. “I killed him for you, I let his blood run the streets. I burned down the monastery for you. I gutted those terrible parents of yours, those friends that never loved you. The village that always made fun of you, called you a whore because they were envious of your beauty. And you cursed me, you damned me. Why would you do that? I did it all for you, for your adoration, for your love, and you pushed me away? You let me become as I am now. I love you, I’ve always loved you. I’m here now, can’t you see? I’m showing you that I will do anything for you, kill anyone for you. Do you not understand this?”

He moved away, pressing his hands on his temples, eyes widening, red streaks falling down his cheeks. He claws at his face, hysterical laughs escaping him. “I will kill him. I will kill them all for you. I let you love them before me and this is what I am repaid for? Your hatred as payment for loving you with everything that I have? We can be happy if you let us. If you see what I will do for you.”

His eyes flick to you, horror filling them when he sees how frightened you look, how you’ve pulled your legs close, arms wrapped around them. Flinching when he meets your gaze. He swallows, licking his lips as he stands. “I will, I’ll be back. One of the others can watch you while I’m gone, okay? Okay, C– my sea?”

He does not wait for your response, turning on his heel, the door swinging open. With his quick pace he does not seem to notice the others just outside the door, deep in his own thoughts as he disappears down the hallway. You blink quickly, still tense as a few of the others enter. A hand touches your shoulder and you flinch. You look up, meeting the gaze of worried San, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Steady, hold it steady.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you winch, staring at him slowly stitching up the wound. Somewhere in between your conversation with Hongjoong, the stitches broke open. Though you insisted on a hospital rather than an unsterile, small room, they heard none of it. Especially Yeosang, his soft eyes filled with fear when he saw you. He mustered up the best smile he could before leaving you alone. It’s unlike him to check up on your condition; he asked Wooyoung and Jongho plenty of times just outside the door when they thought you were asleep. Your mind moves to Hongjoong, immediately pushing the thought away just as it comes. Breaking that moment down in your mind will only lead to more madness. The one thing you cannot afford to fall into right now.

“Pretty?” San nudges you slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Your look at him, noting the bruised lip, the dried slit in his brow. Yours furrow looking at him, swallowing slowly. They saved you again and all you have to show for it is anger, resistance. How much longer could you last pushing them away when all they’ve done is help you?

“You worry me,” he speaks again, slowly wrapping your torso with gauze. “That distant look you get. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Confessing that you don’t deserve their kindness is far from what you want. So you let your head rest against his shoulder, exhaling. “Sometimes I wish you were human.” You say simply, promptly regretting the words just as they leave your mouth.

You can feel him tense under your touch, hesitating in his wrapping briefly. “I like who I am now.”

“I know.”

“And if given the chance again, I wouldn’t change it. This is who, what, I want to be."

“I know, you don’t have to explain it to me. I just let lingering thoughts escape, that’s all.”

He sighs, “No no, I didn’t mean to sound angry, you don't need to apologize."

He rips off a piece of medical tape and lining it up with your bandages. “It’s all I’ve known, pretty. I cannot imagine myself being as I was before. I was scrawnier, smaller. More fearful of the world. My life before Hongjoong was not the greatest. My family was killed because I couldn’t protect them, because I was not strong enough to. But now that I can, I can be of assistance to all of you. It’s what I’ve always sought, and I can’t go back to being a human. I can’t be feeble again.” His eyes flick to yours, softening when they meet your eyes. “I love you too much to see you hurt, pretty. If there were something stronger for me to become, I would choose it without a second thought. I hope you won't try to convince me otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t want to, San. Please understand that,” you squeeze his arm. “You’re in control of your life, not me. I can’t force you to abide by my whims. If you want to be like this, I’m not stopping you.”

“Not stopping me – does that mean you won’t accept it anyway?” His words are tight. “You will still leave?”

“If you were a human I’d leave anyway,” you whisper, not daring to meet his eyes. “I never belonged here. If any of us were to become something, I need space. I need a place to go where I can be alone. My room isn’t enough for me.” And run away, you think. You promised Subin you��d kill them, but how could you? Especially with the way he alone is looking at you. Your empathy is endless to the point that you hate it, but it’s not unreasonable to know you can’t hurt people.

A part of you wonders what Rose would do right now. How she’d react to your choices. Is she yelling in her grave right now, telling you that everything you’re doing is bringing you closer to death? Or is she assured that you’re safe in their arms, complimenting you on your choices thus far? There’s so many possibilities, and you’re still not sure what happened back then. All you know is someone in this house turned her into a vampire. And that’s very likely the reason why she wanted to kill them all. You felt her pain, her fear in the brief visions. The cold touch of death when she turned.

You never want to experience it yourself.

“I wish I could convince you otherwise,” he whispers, securing your gauze. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I just hope that you’ll miss us enough to come back home.”

“San-”

“You don’t need to explain why, because I know,” he waves you off, shaking his head. “I mean, I called you Rose for so long without thinking twice about it. Knowing how you felt about it. I didn’t let myself distinguish between the two of you because of my selfishness. I didn’t want to let her go. Accepting that Rose is gone,” he stops in his words. “I don’t think any of us have properly mourned her death. Maybe Yunho or Mingi, but not really. Not truly. The last person to visit her grave was Jongho, and that was decades ago. I’m sorry that I let it go on for so long, and I’m sorry I took your feelings for granted. I think it’ll be hard, but I hope that one day you’ll forgive me, y/n.” He says your name with emphasis, eyes flicking between yours. “Just as I love you.”

"Do you love me?"

His voice cracks at the last word. It's the second time in a day that he's asked. You jokingly replied sure earlier, and he laughed it off. But now, his hands are gripping the bottom of your shirt. Looking up at you from your knees. Eyes flicking between yours, waiting for an answer.

You hear the sentence over and over again in your head. Do you love him? Do you love any of them? Or are you trying to become someone they once knew? Their rose, their sea. The one woman in their life that they lost. It irks you, not knowing if your feelings are true. Or their desperation makes you believe each word that they say. You want to say it, you do. You want him to be assured that you love him, to be secure in his feelings for you. But the word just doesn't want to fall from your lips. So instead of saying it, you hand brushes just beneath his chin. Stroking the soft skin beneath your fingertips.

You lean forward, lips lightly touching his. You hold restraint, but of course, he cannot. He presses his lips against yours, and you kiss him hard. Although his face is swollen with tears and lips are chapped from licking them often, he kisses you.

And you kiss him back.

"Love me," he says between breaths, pulling you down from the edge of the bed. His hands rest beneath your body as you fall to the floor, his body towering over yours, pulling you closer. "Love me," he whispers, fingers digging into your sides as he holds you.

"And what will that do?" You ask, your lips parting from his. Your breaths are heavy, chests rising and falling as you meet his gaze. "What if I say no?"

"I have waited for you for hundreds of years, pretty. I can handle a few more without it. Just please don't tell me to go. I will bear the pain of you not saying it back, but please do not let me go. Remaining unwanted is one thing, but never seeing you again would be the greatest torture I would endure in my endless years."

His words hit you directly in the heart. You hold his face, staring at him. “I cannot promise anything, San. The future is too uncertain for me to say that.”

"Would you say it if I beg?" San moves away from you, slowly sliding down your body. His lips trail along the outline of you before resting at your feet. You lean up, brows furrowed. His hands slowly wrap around your waist, gripping your hips.

"San–"

"Please," His fingers dig into your skin. Not enough to break it, but keeps you where you are. Eyes on him. "I'd do anything for you, y/n. Anything you want."

You rise from the sheets, head throbbing. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream, why would you think otherwise? You swing your legs over the side of the bed, slowly standing. Your side aches as you push open the door. It must be early in the morning, the light seeping through the curtains as you make your way down the hallway. Slow is an overstatement, you’re shuffling. San secured the gauze tight enough for you to sleep comfortably, but moving? Not so much.

The kitchen is empty. The pile of peaches that often greet you is gone, replaced with a sealed box of dried fruits. You ignore it entirely, slowly sinking into the stool at the island. You haven’t had glimpses of the past at all, not even for a brief moment. In the beginning you hated being put into someone else’s body, but now? You wish you could be given something, anything. An assurance that staying here for the moment is a wise idea, or completely terrible.

You lift up your shirt, glancing at the wrapping. It's stained with blood already. Ah, maybe you moved around in your sleep more than you thought.

A cough distracts you.

You turn, tensing.

"Hi–"

"Leave," you interrupt him, glancing at the box in the center of the island. "Please."

"y/n–"

"Please Wooyoung, please just leave me alone," your voice cracks, fear coursing through you. "If you want me on my knees I'll do it. Please," you shut your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Because you know, despite it all, despite everything; One look from him will make you weak.

“What’s going on?” Your eyes flick to the entrance, Yunho glancing between the two of you. His eyes narrow as they meet Wooyoung’s, a frown slowly forming on his lips. “You were told to never be alone with her.”

“I needed to speak to her, that’s all. Nothing nefarious.” Wooyoung sighs, his exhale increasing as he watches Yunho come by your side. Confrontation when you’re this exhausted is not uncommon in this home, though you wish that they leave you alone just as the days prior. A part of you is thankful for Yunho’s presence despite it all; if Wooyoung was so easily able to end his friend’s life hundreds of years ago, ending yours right now would be a piece of cake. “Will you never acknowledge any of us? Or are you only enamored by Yeosang just as you were before? Or have you even attempted to?” Mire coats his word, an unmistakable glare in his eyes once you finally meet them.

You snort, slowly standing from the stool. It’s a bit of a struggle, Yunho leaning forward to help, but you push his hands away, gripping the countertop.

“You all assume that every thought of mine is Yeosang. Like all I’ve cared about since I arrived here is Yeosang when it hasn’t been like that at all. I was afraid of him just as I was of all of you. Your assumptions of my own feelings only seem to ease your own faults. I could have cared for you just as I have for Yeosang, Jongho, Mingi even. But your decision to poison me so that I am forced to be with you was something else entirely. So how can you stand there and tell me that I didn’t try when I did? I was slowly trusting you, Wooyoung. You, alone. And you erased it completely by making me ill. This is your doing, not mine. Never was. So how about accepting your fuck-ups instead of trying to pin it on someone else?”

His fists slowly loosen at your words, angry brows furrowing. How someone as smart as him not able to take your words at face value is beyond your own comprehension. But you’ve laid out your feelings as clearly as you could. It’s up to him to decide if he wants to acknowledge them or not.

“You’re saying that you would have accepted me as I am now?”

“I'm saying that I already have, Wooyoung. You are who you are. Who am I to tell you what you can and cannot be? You're a vampire, that's it. I wouldn’t try to make you a human because I want it. And I hoped that none of you would force me to be a vampire, but look at where we are now."

He takes a step closer to you, only for you to move closer to Yunho. Wooyoung’s eyes shift to him before sighing. “I’d rather we speak in private.”

“Walls are thin, Woo. We’d hear it whether or not I’m here,” Yunho shrugs. “And, frankly, I doubt she wants to be alone with you after everything.”

“You don’t speak for her.”

“He’s right,” you interrupt. “I’d rather someone else in the room.”

“Fine! Fine,” he begins to point at you, before slowly lowering his hand. “Everyone makes me out to be the bad guy. Like it is my fault you died when it’s not even close. I was in the back when it happened! I mean,” he rubs his face, glancing at his friend. “You're letting yourself hide behind a man you don't know, one whose had more involvement than me when it comes to Rose’s turning–”

“Enough, Wooyoung.” Yunho says.

“What? Am I not allowed to tell everyone’s misdeeds? Am I supposed to bear them all on my own? Why am I the lone sinner? Why can I not be the one who she can finally trust? Why do I have to hold your burdens as if they are mine?!” His fingers slowly curl into fists. “It's pushed onto me because you all have designated me as this devil, this monster that cannot be cured. y/n,” his eyes move to you. “I’ll admit my mistakes to you. Yeosang knew about me poisoning you, but it was no fault of his own. I'm not sure if the others have told you this, but the vampire that turns you is able to sire you. He cannot resist my commands if I make it so. He wanted to tell you, but he couldn’t. Because of me. Because of my faults.” He shakes his head, his fingers scratching against his scalp. “I’ll take credit for what I have done. But I will not stand here and pretend everything that has gone wrong around here is all because of my decisions. I'm not going to do it anymore, fuck the rest of you."

“y/n,” Yunho lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “If I may ask, could you please find yourself back to your quar–room, your room. Please. I need to speak with him for a moment.”

You swallow slowly, nodding. You don’t catch the quick flicker of fear in Wooyoung’s eyes at Yunho’s words, keeping your gaze low. There’s so much to process, so many words to accept. Your head begins to throb at the thought of trying to. You step around Yunho, slowly leaving the kitchen. But just before you turn the corner, “Thank you, Wooyoung. For finally admitting it.” Your eyes flick to his. “This doesn't mean I forgive you, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

You leave them be, slowly making your way back to your room without food. You aren’t necessarily hungry right now, it was in all honesty just a stroll from your room. You are still a bit annoyed that it was rudely interrupted, but you digress. Your eyes flick to the quick movement just at the end of the hallway, Yeosang disappearing into his room. You sigh.

It is perhaps not the best time to start something with him, but what do you have to lose? You plan on leaving soon, anyway. You slowly shuffle down the hallway, his door slightly ajar just as you make it around the corner. Taking a long breath, you slowly push it with your free hand, entering his room.

“It’s polite to knock,” he notes. He rests on the seat by his balcony window, leg swinging back and forth. He does not turn to you, though you expected as much. The last time he gazed in your eyes was when you first came back. You haven’t seen him since. His hair seems darker now, blond locks fading into a darker brown.

“You were gone with San for a while,” you start, breathing heavily as you shut the door behind it. It gives you some semblance of privacy, though you’re sure everyone in this house is in tune with your conversation.

“To keep him from losing himself,” he says simply, shrugging. “He would have done the same for me.”

You nod slowly, resting against his velvety couch. Though he doesn’t turn to see you struggle, you can see the scowl on his lips, already predicting his next words.

“You should be resting, not wandering around our home. It makes sense that San had to stitch you up once more. He will have to do it again if you don't sit still.”

“That’s a concern for another day.”

“y/n…”

"Why are you avoiding me?"

He runs his fingers through his hair.

"I could have saved you." He looks small. Arms wrapped around himself, gaze to the floor. Body shaking. "I could have saved you from Wooyoung, from Subin, from Sejun. I could have saved you from them all, but I didn't. I let Wooyoung's words have an influence over me, I," He slowly shakes his head. "You could have died."

His head finally lifts. He looks at the bandage wrapped around your calf, your waist, the bruises on your face. The endless wounds that seem to cover every exposed part of your body. He swallows slowly, lips trembling. "I could have saved you from this."

"None of this is your fault."

"You can't keep saying that. You can't keep pulling the blame away from me. I knew he was poisoning you and did nothing to stop it. You should hate me as much as him, if not more. Don't stand there and pretend you don't–"

“He told me.”

“What?” Yeosang stills, gaze still far away.

“Wooyoung. He told me about what he did to you. How he forced you to abide by his every word, his desires. I didn't even ask for his confession, but he gave it willingly without a second thought. I know he’s doing it only to earn my favor and good graces but him mustering up the will to even explain it to me probably earned him some trust. I doubt that I will be able to forgive him, but I do forgive you, Yeosang.”

He starts to shake his head, fingers digging into his scalp. His grip is harsh to the point that you see red staining the blonde, spilling from underneath his hold. “y/n, you should take every word that comes from him with great caution. And you shouldn’t forgive me for what I’ve done. It is utterly sinful.”

"He sounded sincere."

His lips form a scowl. "And that's your first mistake, y/n. Nothing that comes out of his mouth is close to sincere."

"Yeosang, please listen to me," you take a long breath. "I know that if you had the choice you wouldn’t have hidden the poisoning from me.”

"y/n–"

"Am I wrong for assuming this?"

He shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter because I did hide it. I know you want me to be this pillar of goodness, but I'm not that. I will never be that as long as I am the way I am, y/n. You should never trust any word from me.” His gaze finally meets yours across the darkened room. He looks dreadful, exhausted.

“I want you to love me. I am so lonely, my y/n,” his eyes are filled with fear, sorrow. “These hundreds of years have passed and I am still as lonely as I was when Rose died. I want you to love me as I have loved you. I want you to look at me and see me as I am. To need me as desperately as I need you. I need to feel loved, y/n. But because of my tie to my friend, I cannot,” he swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. “You will never be able to truly be mine because there is always him. There will always be him."

"I thought my dream of being somewhat normal faded long ago, but ever since your soul appeared in front of us again all of those emotions came back tenfold. I want to be human. I want to go to places with you, court you without having the fear of somehow doing something to me that's out of my control. To watch a sunset with you. I want to love you the way you deserve, I want you to be truly mine. But that will never happen. And for the sins that I’ve committed in the past and up to now, perhaps it is warranted. Perhaps I was never meant to have even the slightest bit of happiness when I was turned into this. All of it doesn’t matter in the end, though. Because the past cannot be changed just under sheer eagerness.”

Yeosang tenses up. He attempts to move but Wooyoung tightens his hold. “I cannot live without my best friend, Yeosang. And Rose says she will no longer love you if you were anything other than human. Shall we test that?”

“Wooyoung.” The words escape your own lips, though you know it’s Rose’s. You can feel the fear in her chest, the worry in her voice. Is this the moment Yeosang was turned?

Wooyoung holds his hand against the edge of the dresser, dragging it across harshly. His wrist begins to bleed as he presses it against Yeosang’s mouth, forcing the blood into it. He gags against his hold, desperately trying to get him to stop. Tears roll down his cheeks, eyes flicking to yours. You’ve never seen his eyes filled with such fear, horror. Regret.

"Stop!" You push against someone’s hold, but it's of no use. Wooyoung grips Yeosang's body, forcing his wrist against his mouth. Crazed eyes hold him close, fingers almost piercing Yeosang's shoulder with how elated he is.

“This is all for you, Rose. We will test that will of yours.”

Cries escape your chest as you fall to your knees, unable to do anything. You soon realize it is Mingi who holds you, continuing his whispering of comforting words to help you calm down, but you only feel your heart breaking. Wooyoung lifts your knife you left on your shelf, stabbing it into Yeosang’s chest. The stress in your body overwhelms you, body shaking as you lose consciousness.

“y/n!” He shakes you again and you’re finally pulled from it, glazed eyes clearing. Yeosang holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You aren't sure how much time passed between the vision and now, but he seems nervous as he holds you. “Are you alright? You weren’t here with me-”

“I saw it,” you swallow. You can remember how he once looked, the utter terror in his eyes as Wooyoung held him against his will. Killed him as he grinned at Rose. Yeosang was full of life then, eyes a softer brown, cheeks flushed. Losing his life in mere moments. The sounds only echo in your ears as he holds you, trying to pull you away from those thoughts. His thumb rubs against your cheek, wiping the tear that falls. “I saw you die, Yeosang.”

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t need to let those thoughts worry you. It was so long ago. It no longer affects me.”

“You never asked to be part of this and were forced into it because of him,” You do not say his name, deeming it unnecessary. “How can I pretend I didn’t just see it? No wonder.”

“No wonder what?” he asks softly.

No wonder Rose could not stand any of you any longer. No wonder she killed herself. Seeing the monster that Wooyoung became, it must have broken her. From the other instances he seemed so kind, loving. But in that moment, you could only feel disgust rising in Rose. Hurt.

"No wonder she didn't want to turn," you whisper.

Yeosang sighs. “We all know what happened before when Rose was turned; forcing you into the same position would only lead to another death. I want you to live a long life as do the rest of us, but their definition of life is certainly construed in comparison to mine.” His hand wraps around yours. You’ve noticed that they can easily blend into crowds without lingering looks because they just look pale from a distance, but watching his hand in yours changes your perspective. There is no color in his skin, a dull gray. But still, you lift his hand, pressing your lips against the back of it. His brows lift in silent shock, lips parting. His eyes flick over yours, a small smile slowly forming as he stares at you. “Why would I ask you to lose your warmth when I enjoy the flush of your cheeks?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words, letting your head rest against his chest. “In any other circumstance if a person told me they enjoyed how my blood circulated I’d be a bit creeped out.”

“Very true,” he chuckles along with you, pulling you closer into his chest. “I know my next words will be taken with mirth, but I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive him.”

Which him, he doesn’t say, but you can take a wild guess. You sigh, letting your eyes shut. “Would you be able to forgive so easily in my situation?”

He pauses for a moment, “It took me a few decades to accept him as he is. Forgiveness took a tad bit longer.”

“Define a tad bit.”

“y/n.”

“Yeo.”

He sighs. “… about seventy years.”

“Then I’ll pardon him in forty.”

“y/n,” he repeats again, his voice softer. You frown as you meet his gaze, ignoring the pout of his lips, the lax resting of his eyes- Damnit, could you at least pretend to be resilient against his charm?

“Yeosang, I am not going to forgive someone who almost murdered me. In fact, if I ever decided to become a vampire – which I won’t – “ you notice his eyes lighting up at your words. “I would ignore his very existence for the next five hundred years.”

He purses his lips, thinking. “That’s not too bad.”

“Kang Yeosang!”

He laughs, holding you close to him as you playfully shove against his frame. It’s a losing battle, finally slumping into his arms, ignoring the pain on your side from the awkward position. Yeosang seems to notice though, shifting his hold as he lies back on his bed.

"I won't force you to be something you don't want, y/n. Though my words do not hold as much trust as others, I promise I won't."

None of this is Wooyoung's work. His hands pull you closer to his body, soothened at the warmth of you surrounding him. How could he hate himself for lying to you when he gets this in return? He will feel terrible later, yes. He will hate himself right as you leave his side. But for now he enjoys it. Hums as he tucks his face into the curve of your neck, overjoyed when he hears comforting sounds escaping you. No, if he needed to lie again, he would do it. Just to feel you again.

Consequences be damned.

You nod, closing your eyes. "I know. Did you hear that conversation in the kitchen?"

"Walls are only a figurative barrier in this home."

"That's a yes, then."

"I try not to snoop, but I heard you say my name. It was hard not to pay attention to every word that left your lips. I tried leaving before you caught me, but I was a bit stunned. I didn't know how much you cared for me, y/n. I do not mind being your favorite, though." He chuckles, lips pressed into your hair.

"You're not my favorite," you whine, but his laughs only continue. "Yeosang!"

Yeosang’s words still linger in your head. Forgiving Wooyoung. Would you ever be able to do it? Whenever he sends you smiles, the memory of him killing Yeosang flashes in your head. It’s been hundreds of years, sure, but from what you know that hasn’t exactly changed him. You can’t even look at fruit the same, the boxes on the counter only piling because you’re scared of touching it. In fact, you only allow a few of them to follow you to the market to get food. With great reluctance, of course. Your place is still to leave.

Though you insisted that you'd never stay longer than another week, it's very much past that. Each time you arrive at an interview with expectations you'll be hired, you're rejected. Your friends still ignore your calls. It’s just as Subin and Sejun said - you have no one. All you have is these eight men who don’t truly love you, and who you suspect all want you to themselves one way or another.

“The food in the fridge is expired,” Seonghwa hums, placing a bundle of bananas into the cart. Yunho lingers next to him, hands tucked in his pocket as the three of you walk through the produce. “You’re the only one who eats, it’s not good to let it go to waste.”

“I told you,” you examine the cabbage. “I’m not touching anything any of you buy.”

“You let Seonghwa grab those bananas,” Yunho points out, quickly averting his eyes when you look at him. “Just saying!”

“Well I can tell he didn’t inject it with something strange, so I trust those for now. As long as they stay in my room.”

“Wooyoung isn’t allowed in the kitchen anymore. It’s safe, doe,” Seonghwa notes, following you to the register. “Hongjoong made sure of it.”

“Ah yes, the most trustworthy man in that house,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “No thanks. I’ll let my room turn into a grocery store before I put anything in that kitchen. And,” you look back at the both of them. “I found a place.”

Seonghwa stiffens, Yunho’s smile shifting. It’s strange how you never noticed before - the shifts in their expressions. If you blinked you wouldn’t have noticed Yunho’s smile lessen into more of a scowl, Seonghwa’s body stilling. The more you look at them the more they feel… scary. You’ve experienced this same feeling before, when you first met them. In all honesty you thought you were over it. That you were fine with them being vampires. But in these moments you can see why the stories considered them terrifying. They can so easily become non-human. Unreal. You look away, not wanting to linger on these feelings.

“Seonghwa, actually,” you start, still keeping your eyes forward. “Would you be able to drop off my food in my room? I need to take a trip somewhere.”

He moves in front of your cart, hands gripping the front to stop you in your tracks. His head tilts, brows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not leaving, not yet,” you sigh. “And I have all of my things still at the house. Too many important things to just abandon on a whim.”

“y/n-”

“If you want me to trust you,” you glare back at Yunho. “Then let me go for an afternoon. I’ll be back before you know it.”

They both exchange a look. Seonghwa finally lets go of the cart, walking around and nudging you off the handles. You let him take your place, glancing between the two.

“When you get home,” his eyes flick to Yunho. “Tell Hongjoong that we lost you in a crowd. And take this,” he hands you a small bottle. The words are in a foreign language, nothing you can decipher. “Spray this on you several blocks away from our home. In fact, do it when you’re at wherever you’re going. It blocks our senses of your smell. Actually,” Seonghwa takes it from your grasp, spraying it on your neck. “Tell him you found it in your room on the shelf if he finds you with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Yunho rubs his face, glancing at you. “He will kill us, truly.”

“He won’t when he sees her safe and sound when she comes home later. Right, doe?”

You nod quickly. It’s true, you don’t plan on running away now. Not until you find the truth. The real truth. He sends you a strained smile. “Good. Please get home by eight at night. Yunho and I will be running in just five minutes before telling them that we cannot find you. It will be… overwhelming for that moment, but it’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He leans forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Then we agree. I will see you soon, my doe.” He grips Yunho’s arm, pulling him along to the register.

The door is open before you enter. She never left it open, always afraid that something would happen while she was gone. And it’s warranted - the city isn’t as safe as it used to be. You slowly enter, a strong smell hitting you as you stand in the doorway. Like chemicals were spilled everywhere, the bleach stinging your nose. You take out your mask and put it on, slowly entering the living area. All of her things are in their places, though thrown about just like it usually is. It is almost eerie how perfectly placed they are - even her favorite magazine, open on a page that she would love to look over.

“Siyoon?” You say, picking up the book. A layer of dust covers it, your hands beginning to shake. She used to complain about the mess of your apartment. She’s the last person that would ever let it get this bad in her own home. You’re sure that she cleans everyday. You grip your phone, dialing her number again. It goes to voicemail just like before. “This isn’t funny, Siyoon,” you say, opening her room door.

Her clothing is thrown all over, as if she were in a rush to leave. Drawers thrown open, old makeup cracked on the floor. Spilled and dry, staining the hardwood. Was she afraid of something? Why would she leave so quickly? Your eyes flick to her phone on the dresser. You quickly pick it up, pressing the power button. A zero flashes at you before turning off again. You take it, tucking it in your pocket. Though this isn’t exactly what you pictured, you just hope that she’s okay. Whatever spooked her though, especially leaving without all of her things - what the hell happened?

And why can’t you get rid of the feeling that deep down, you know who was responsible?

“You let her out of your sight? What the fuck were you thinking?”

Hongjoong’s voice rings through the home as you step inside, shutting the door behind you. Just as the click echoes, everyone is at the entrance way. You furrow your brows as you meet their frightened eyes, sighing. “Don’t overreact-”

“Why would you disappear like that? We thought-” Jongho trails off, swallowing.

“I’m a fucking grown woman, I can do what I want,” you step around their bodies, glancing at Yunho and Seonghwa briefly. Their gazes are blank, though Seonghwa’s brighter, eyes softening when they rest on yours. You send him a quick smile as well, “Seonghwa? Were you able to finish shopping?”

“I left them in your room, my doe.”

“...Can you help me put them away, then?”

He nods quickly, stepping around everyone else. You can see the venom in their eyes as you ignore everyone else, your hand slowly sliding into Seonghwa’s, leading him down the hallway. Siyoon’s phone feels heavy in your pocket as you do so. You hope that whatever you find leads you to what happened. And despite all the arrows pointing to who obviously made her run away - you wish it wasn't them.

Seonghwa quietly helps you place your things in your makeshift cupboard and drawers, humming as he does so. You place your phone on your dresser along with Siyoon's delicately in your side table when he turns his back.

"I'm glad you're safe. And I'm happy you came back," He doesn't elaborate on his words. "I really am, doe. And I know you don't truly trust any of us really, but thank you for trusting me enough to safely bring your food home."

You nod, looking at him through your mirror. He leans against the opposing wall, staring at you. Your eyes meet in the mirror. Though you really had no time to dwell on it, they're all handsome. You're not ugly, far from it in your mind, but their beauty is intimidating. Having their attention on you had somehow lessened your confidence – though before them you already had plenty – being the driving object of their affections is frightening. You wonder if they look at you and see you, or see Rose. And if she is the temptress they say she was, and identical to you, well that's just another can of worms to dig through.

"We haven't known each other for long, but I can tell when you're overthinking. That distant look in your eyes. Whatever it is, you can say it. I'll answer it confidently."

"It's not a question, just an observation," you shrug, sitting on the edge of your bed. Seonghwa sits next to you, planting himself at the small chair just a meter or so away from you. "No need to look so serious, Hwa," you roll your eyes.

"The look told me otherwise."

"Rose was beautiful," you start, and he nods, though he looks confused.

"As are you."

"What I mean," you struggle with your words. Why is it so hard to speak? Each time one of them is in front of you it's like your words are restrained, harder to describe. "I'm not half as confident as she was. Not anymore. She and I are not the same people. I just don't understand how you could care for me half as much as her–"

"Doe," he shakes his head. "I belong to you."

"I don't want you to. You’re your own person, Seonghwa. How could you not understand that?"

"You must misunderstand my words," he shifts the chair closer to you. "I belong to you, y/n. It is my choice to say these words. Your soul is what I love. I want you to accept me as yours, because in my mind I am already. And I deeply desire for you to be mine even though I know it will never be," his lips tremble as he looks at you. "I hope that our days will no longer be filled with turmoil. It feels as if we haven't had a day of calamity for such a long time."

"Who's fault is that?" It's rhetorical, but he answers it anyway.

"Ours. It is our fault. It is mine as much as it is the other's."

You close your eyes and take a long breath. How could you be brave when he expresses himself with such raw emotion? Your heart oftentimes wavers in his presence. There's no real explanation; whether it be emotions unbeknownst to you from the past, or what you feel now. He just brings out a soft spot within you that you forget. And you hate it. You hate that your own self betrays you, makes you look past everything that has happened. His blatant begging for you should disgust you when you know of their obsession. You know that one of them killed Rose. And you know that none of them did anything to stop it. So why can you only look at him with… love?

"You don't belong to me," you repeat softly, less sure of your words. "I don't want you to belong to me."

"Anything you want–"

"Stop saying that," you look at him, holding back your tears as you meet his watery one's. "Don't look at me like that, Hwa. Don't do that to me."

"y/n–"

"I can't talk to you when you look at me like that," you admit, covering your face. "Fucking Hell, I can't do this anymore."

His cool touch brushes against your skin, slowly pulling your hands away. He presses his lips against the back of them, eyes fluttering. "Don't hide yourself from me."

"I…" You trail off, watching as he presses his lips against your wrist, kissing each fingertip. Your breath hitches as his teeth grazes against the skin of your thumb. "Seonghwa–"

"I love you, y/n," he whispers softly, holding your hands against his face. The red darkened, heavy as he takes in your face. "I won't ever stop."

He moves closer to you, thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. You're not too sure who leans first, but you feel the shudder of his breath against yours. His hands holding your head steady, tongues dragging across one another's, filling the silence. Your heart beats against your eardrums, hands gripping your pants as he holds you close.

"Wait," he pulls away, licking his lips. "I don't want you to think of me as a horrible man. I'm not trying to push your emotions to the side because I can't help myself."

You nod, grip loosening against your pants, "It was too much."

He laughs, shaking his head, "Too much? My pretty doe, it's never enough when it comes to you. But I don't want to rush things. I want the both of us to care for each other fully. Despite the urges," he closes his eyes briefly. "I am still a gentleman."

"You and Rose? Did you ever…?"

His lip curves into a small smile, shaking his head, "Despite my endless yearning and waiting, the only place I ever expressed my love for her was her lips. She told me that my love for her was too great, that it would be devastating if we did anything more. Not to her, but to me."

"Did you believe her?"

He nods slowly, "Rose was the only love of my long life, but I was not hers. And I didn't mind it, no, but she knew my feelings. She knew that I would break if she told me how she truly felt about me. I was thankful that she pushed me away at the time. As I am thankful that I was able to do it now," he admits, eyes roaming over yours. "You don't love me the way I love you. It would be a mistake to let it go further."

You rub your face. He's right, just as he always is. You let the moment get the best of you. Seonghwa has often been your weak point just as Yeosang. "Then can you stay?"

"Stay?"

"Tonight with me? I don't know, I…" Siyoon's apartment is still lingering in the back of your mind. If he's here, maybe you'll be able to ignore it. Ignore the phone in your drawer, the mystery hidden behind the darkened screen. "I need someone to stay tonight."

He doesn't question further, does not investigate. Instead he presses his lips to your forehead and leaves to shower. Soon enough he's back in the room, sliding beneath the sheets with you. Pulling you close against his chest, lips resting against the curve of your neck.

You can't quite remember how much time passed. All you can do is stare at yourself.

Broken.

You touch the bruise on your lips, the darkened skin beneath your eyes, discoloration on your skin. Watch as his hand slowly drags along your skin, wrapping around the curve of your shoulder, lips pressed against the space behind your ear. His low hums, lids opening to meet your gaze in the mirror. The deep scarlet of his irises, slow smirk of his lips as he breaths against you. You look utterly ruined, tiredness dripping from the reflection. And yet here he is. Staring at you with adoration, desire, care. He stares at the broken figure of you and loves it. Your tongue drags across your lips, blinks quick.

"You can look at that reflection and still love her?" You whisper. He moves his lips from your skin, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His head leans into yours, cheek creasing as he nods.

"How could I not?"

"I don't look like myself," You look dead. The light in your eyes is barely there anymore. Perhaps this is what they've wanted. The scars and cuts on your body aren't exactly his fault, though you've never looked like this before meeting all of them. "I look like I've been run over by a truck."

"You were stabbed y/n, I think giving yourself a bit of leeway would do wonders."

Though he isn't wrong in the slightest, keeping your gaze on the reflection only seems to darken your thoughts. You watch as his hand rests opposite from where his head is, thumb tracing your beauty marks. He keeps his eyes on yours, softening when he sees how moist your eyes are. Without another word, his hand turns your head to him. You look away from the mirror reluctantly, meeting his gaze.

"Do you believe these eyes of mine are lying?" He's never looked more sure than he does now. "Doe, so much has happened to you. The one man you could count on isn't here. We all know that."

You've never said how much you care for Yeosang, but it seems to be more obvious than you realized. Your feelings for Jongho were pretty equal with your feelings for Yeosang, but this dread each time you look at him just won't go away. Yeosang never had a choice, but Jongho did. All of them did.

"You love him more than the rest of us." It's not a question. And surprisingly he doesn't look angry as he says it. "It's hard."

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Love is never something to apologize for."

“I don’t know why I do,” you start. “I’m not one to believe in past lives influencing current ones but there’s always been a tie to him. He is one of the reasons why it’s so hard to not stay,” you admit, ignoring Seonghwa’s burning gaze in the mirror. “When he left it felt like I needed to go too. But now that he’s back, it just feels-”

“Like you can’t leave?” He asks, and you slowly nod. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else, his fingers slowly folding into yours. You let him guide you back into the bed. Though that was the end of the conversation, your thoughts still consume you.

There is this constant thought that everything you say will be used against you. Hongjoong does it often, his sneer and quick glances, taking in your words to remind you of them later. Yunho does it as well, though a bit more secretive. You can’t quite figure out the others. None of this changes your stance though. You’ve told them you were leaving. Yeosang be damned. You’re not going home, the reminder from Sejun that your family wouldn’t be safe. But it’s scary to think that once you leave, you have nowhere to go. Visiting old friends is not what you’d like to do either – they will be the ones hurt in the end. All in all, it seems that in all, it seems that you only have them. Just them.

The thought makes you queasy.

Seonghwa seems to feel the shift of your emotions, the arm wrapped around your torso tightening, pulling you closer. You shiver at his cool arm resting against your stomach, lids heavy. If only you knew what was coming tomorrow, you would have left that night.

If only you knew of the terrors of the coming days.

Mingi is the one to break the news.

You’re sitting on the grass in the backyard, notebook in hand as you brainstorm where exactly you’re going after leaving. Yunho’s the first to step outside, a strained smile on his lips as he nods, immediately giving you his back as he starts up his bike. Soon after, one or two of them trickle outside to seemingly random spots. Hongjoong rests against the opening to the outside door, hands against his chest. You aren’t keen on the idea of all of them surrounding you in some way, gripping your notebook tightly as you glance between them. Mingi is the first to move from his spot (he’s been sitting on the lower roof lately), landing on the ground and slowly walking over to you.

“Who died?” You ask just as he begins to speak. His eyes flick to Hongjoong, before landing on yours. “Ah, are we playing another guessing game?”

“Well…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeosang’s gone.”

You roll your eyes, attention back on your notebook. “I never said I wanted to participate in them.”

“No, doe,” Seonghwa appears on the side of you, a small smile on his lips. Since that night the two of you have grown closer. Most of your time is spent by yourself, and the remainder, he usually seeks you out. You don’t mind it, he’s quiet most of the time, enjoying the silence along with you. This expression on his face, though. Worry is never a good look. “Yeosang left. He won’t be coming back.”

Your brows furrow, looking to Hongjoong. “What did you do?”

He only sighs, shaking his head. “You love to blame me for others, don’t you?”

“Who else is there to blame? Yeosang wouldn’t leave on his own accord, not like that. Not without-” You.

You swallow. “He wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t, and yet he did. Pitiful,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head. “I was quite enjoying his presence around here. Made everyone else tolerable.”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. “Not the best time for jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

You stand up from your spot, ignoring Seonghwa’s lingering touch on your shoulder as you move closer to Hongjoong. You haven’t spoken to him since the incident, and in fact you’d rather not speak to him at all, but Yeosang left. And there’s only two people who would make him do it. Hongjoong, the prideful captain himself, or …

“Wooyoung made him go?” You ask.

Hongjoong says nothing. You turn around, noticing that conveniently, said man is nowhere to be found. A warm hand touches yours and you immediately step away from him, seething.

“Come with me to dinner and I’ll show you.”

You scoff, “No.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Then I suppose you’ll never know where your dear Yeosang went off to. And thus, I plead for you not to come to me and complain and whine, but I’m sure you will. It’s what you do best.” He shrugs, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“Does no one else know?”

“Unfortunately, I’m the only one. It’s a captain’s duty to know where his crew is at all times, my sea.”

“You’re insufferable,” you rub your face, thinking. He waits patiently for a response. There isn’t any point in pretending; you’ll have to go to this dinner with him whether you like it or not. “If I go, you’ll tell me? No tricks, Hongjoong?”

“None at all, beautiful,” his grin only widens. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You balance the chopsticks between your fingers, blatantly ignoring the stare down from the man in front of you. You only agreed to this to learn of Yeosang’s whereabouts, and perhaps – ignoring all of the red flags, hoping to see him. Taking Hongjoong’s invitation to a private dinner is the last thing that you ever wanted but here you are. Dining across from a mad man.

You reach for the garlic bread, Hongjoong pushing the basket closer to you.

"You could have just told me where he is and leave out all of this," you say, thanking the waiter as he places the plate in front of you. It's pasta all'amatriciana; Hongjoong insisted that you'd enjoy it. He had nothing for himself of course, tending to a bit of red wine.

He takes a sip, lips resting on the edge of the glass. He uses his free hand to gesture to the food. You would scowl but it's best not to get on his bad side for now. You take a bite, holding in your shock. It's probably the best pasta you've ever had.

"You needn't hide it, my sea, I can see it in your eyes. Good, right?" His tongue drags along the glass. You look away.

"So Yeosang?"

"He's gone. He won't be back anytime soon. Sorry to disappoint."

"Was it his choice?" Your voice is low. The last thing you expected was for him to leave you alone with them. Especially with your last conversation. Yeosang didn't give you any signs of wanting to go. "Or did someone decide for him?"

“It will get cold if you continue to stare so feverously,” his eyes flick to the plate in front of you. “What will you do, stab me with a fork?”

“It’s useless because iron doesn’t hurt you,” you sigh, taking another bite. The restaurant is filled with patrons, all couples from ranges of ages dining. Places like this have never been your cup of tea. Most guests appear pretentious, noses held high, words not used in everyday language falling from their lips. Harsh words to the waiters just doing their jobs. Many moaning and groaning at how delicious a salad with a sprinkle of salt tastes. Hongjoong bringing you here only solidifies that he doesn’t really know you. You’d never enjoy a place like this in your life.

“Your face is an open book,” he grins, taking another sip. “I’ve brought you here for a reason.”

“You’re ignoring my questions, so I don’t really care-“

“Oh, but I think you will once I explain it to you."

You sigh, "Hard to believe. Pretty sure you just dragged me out here for yourself."

"You lack trust," he shrugs. "Why would I bring the one I love to a place without meaning behind it?"

You take another bite. "Nothing has changed over the hundreds of years that have passed. All reincarnations of me, you either risked your livelihood or killed theirs along the way. You will so easily die for love. Does that not terrify you? Willing to give up yourself for a fickle love?" You meet his eyes. "Hongjoong, how do you think this will end? Have you truly deluded yourself into thinking we will be together? That I will fall at your feet, and finally look at you with care?"

He pauses for a moment.

"Loving you less is not possible, my sea. Our souls meeting over and over again like this is no coincidence. I never sought you out, you always came to me. We did not find each other by accident."

"That I agree with," you choose your next words carefully. "But have you ever considered that my soul sought out yours for healing? Because from what you've said and what I know, my soul has only suffered in your presence. If you truly cherished me you would let me go."

His lip quirks.

"Is it so hard to love me? Is it so impossible that you will not even consider the thought? Attempt at merely liking me? Is it so difficult for even a brief moment to look at me and think that there is a part of me that you adore, that you see as worthy of your attention? Can you possibly gaze upon me and see that my love for you is never ending, everlasting. I know that you will never love me as desperately as I do you, but can you not try?" Though you can only see the white of his eyes, his words oddly resonate within you. If it were another life, if you met him under different circumstances, there would have been a chance. A moment where you could look at him and think, well, he could be someone you love. Even now, you care for him in a sick and unreasonable way. But is it love? No.

Hongjoong is not a person you can ever love.

"If you wanted me to love you, you would have let me go long ago, Hongjoong," you say simply, sinking deeper into the seat. Oddly relaxing despite the circumstances. "Perhaps then I would have."

His mind wanders for a moment as he takes in your words. He desperately wanted to be wanted, to have him be the only though in the forefront of your mind, to have only him as the one you desired, you loved. Hongjoong’s plan was not for you to spend time with all of them, no. He wanted you so entrapped in his lure that you would not care if the others were there or not. He wanted you so deluded, that you would not even notice that they were gone in the first place. He does not quite know how much longer he can last, knowing you're just out of his grasp.

That is why he brought you here.

"You desperately want to know where your Yeosang has gone. You see,” He adjusts himself in his seat, eyes flicking over the tables surrounding the two of you. “All of these people in this room were invited personally. You’re surrounded by presidents of the largest companies; CFOs, CEOs, CMOs… all of the horrendously affluent figureheads in our country. They’ve all partaken in some sort of black-market scheme, or invested in a medication that is more lethal than a snake’s venom. They believe this dinner was a congratulations on selling one million doses of death across the globe. It is anything but,” his eyes move to yours. “Yeosang is here to kill them all.”

You tense, eyes widening. “What?“ He places his hand on yours, nudging his head in a different direction. You turn around to follow where he points.

Yeosang holds a glass in his hands, the silhouette of his suit blending into the decorative curtains just behind him. His eyes seem distant, jaw tight. The red seems to be burning each time someone passes him by, the grip on his cup only tightening. He wears a suit like everyone else in the crowd, blending in with ease. If Hongjoong didn't point him out you're sure you wouldn't have noticed him in the room at all.

“He has always been this martyr in your eyes. This pillar of good. Sure, this is a great deed to mankind; killing every single human in this room will save millions. But do they not deserve trials? There are guests here that are just innocents, accompanied by the true sinners. Of course, he doesn’t care for that, because he'd rather a few guiltless people’s lives be lost than seeing these other dejected souls plant their seeds of hatred and greed another day.”

You try to stand but Hongjoong is quicker, stepping behind you before you can blink, forcing your body back into the seat. He rests his head on your shoulder, lips just a brush away from your ears. He presses his hand against your mouth. “When he loses himself in his own thoughts he becomes this way. Detached. Uncaring of human life once he set a goal in his mind. He locked the doors already, y/n. He will start from the back since it gives the people closest to the front less warning of what's happening. Let us watch the one you love do his self assigned duty.”

It happens too fast for your eyes to watch. He starts from the far end of the restaurant as Hongjoong said. You aren’t sure how he’s doing it, until you see each person grip their necks, choking. He’s quick, moving from table to table, never lingering. The music is too loud in the room for people to take notice, laughing and enjoying their time as people die around them. Blood spills across tables, splattering on the white tablecloths.

“It’s a massacre,” you whisper, too shocked to look away. You wonder if he’s even noticed the two of you.

“It’s a revelation,” Hongjoong grins, laughing as the heads hit the silverware. Slowly people begin to notice, murmurs amongst the crowd as he continues his path. Your gaze moves to the table he's coming upon. There sits a small family, a child laughing with their parents as they eat. He seems unfazed by the patrons, expression mute as he makes his way. Hongjoong’s hand falls from your lips, giving you an opportunity to speak.

“Yeosang!”

He stills in his movements, head immediately moving to where you sit. The emotionless expression shifts to horror, gaze flicking over yours, as if you aren’t truly there. So it is as you suspected - he never knew you were in the room. Would he have even cared if he did?

“I’ll let you have a moment with him. Unfortunately, I have to finish the job. No witnesses,” he shrugs, leaving you alone at the table as you stare at Yeosang across the room. He drops the knife from his hand, steps hurried. You stand up from your spot, body shaking as he moves closer.

Yeosang is just like the others. It was foolish to think otherwise. Rose was right in her words – they are monsters, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. Even Yeosang, the sweet man who wooed you beyond simple words, is just like the rest of them. You try to back away but he uses his speed against you. Hands wrapping around your arms as he stares at you. You look down, the blood staining his fingers rubbing off on your shirt. Surrounded by it often should have numbed your senses. But it is as it was before, your stomach turning. He holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he meets yours. You flinch at his thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"You weren't supposed to see me like this, pretty," he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips. He traces the outline, humming softly. "You were supposed to be home."

If it's fear holding you back from speaking you don't dwell on it. His head tilts, sucking in a breath. "Say something to me. Tell me."

You were never able to resist his charm, even now. Your hands rise, covering his. He shivers at how hot yours are, even as you pull them off your face. You take a step back, the screams rising in volume. People around you are desperate to escape; Cries of children. the sounds of gargling, choking, Hongjoong swiftly killing each and every person. You hold your hands over your ears, crouching into a ball as the sounds just seem to grow louder and louder. The cool touch of his makes you tense and he immediately pulls away.

"I…" You stop in your own words, glass breaking. Sobs continue to drake your body. They're killers. They kill. It's so foolish of you to think otherwise.

He crouched down next to you, "Rose–"

He stills.

"I was a fool," you whisper, swallowing slowly. "I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"No. No. It was a slip of the tongue, y/n. I swear it. I know you, I know there's a difference."

“How about you go back home, Yeosang? We have important things to discuss.”

You don’t dare look Yeosang in the eyes again, afraid that what you might see will only hurt you more. You’re not too sure when he left, but the room has suddenly become quiet. You look up.

Hongjoong’s tongue drags across his skin. An almost giddy, joyful expression crosses his gaze– absolutism, resolved, accomplished. How someone can hold pure glee inside of them as they lick off the blood of the person they killed is beyond you. His burning gaze reaches yours. Hungry. Satisfied. The gaze of a man who knows he has won. He drops the last body from his hands, the thump echoing in your ears through the ringing. He steps over the other bodies, kicking some of them on his slow stroll to you.

You crumble. There is no use for it, that you know. You could run to the ends of the Earth and he will find you with ease. No matter what words you say to reject him he merely takes it as motivation to continue, another obstacle to overcome. You could spend your last breath telling him how much you hate him and he will only guffaw. The question you have is silly, obscene even. But you must know. You must know to determine what your next steps will be.

"Will you ever let me go?"

He stops less than a foot away from you, smiling. It's a horrid expression to look back at, lips curled back, eyes widened to the point of being disturbing to gaze upon. He tilts his head the same way he always does, fingers curled around the wooden handle. The irises of his eyes slowly glaze over, red replaced with an iridescent white. He crouches down, lifting your chin with the blunt end of his knife.

"There is not a place you will go where I will not find you, my sea. If there were a chance you'd attempt to get away, I will only appear by your side again and again and again," he pressed his cheek against yours, a low hum. "Why would you want to leave me? You can have anything you desire when you stay."

When. Not if.

"And if I am to die?"

"Oh no," he moves away from you, bottom lip poking out, hand cupping your face. His knife is steady as he rubs his thumb against your cheek. "Your soul is mine. If you die, I will only find you again. Why do through the torture of us doing this all over, when you can just accept it as it is?"

"You've waited hundreds–"

He sighs loudly, "And I will wait more. I will not die. And as long as I am here, you will be. That is just how the fates decide."

He hooks his arm beneath yours, lifting you with ease. "Now let us go home. The others are waiting for you."

His warm lips press against your forehead. Your eyes are wide open as he pushes the bodies to the slide. The blood staining his clothing soaks into yours. He doesn't seem to care though, humming that eerily familiar tune again. It is the opposite of comforting. But you let your body relax in his arms.

You let him take you back home.

---

tags: @revehosh @mrcarrots @belletiny @sansblkgirlfriend @hwadump @honeyedtalisman @atzcoke @glitterhongjoong @whatudowhennooneseesyou @marievllr-abg @arkive78 @dysftopia @kpopnightingale @wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines @atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira @wommypeaches @avantalem @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @toxicccred @xciiiomwliah @madelinelina @kirooz @a-tiny-teez @tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z @yoongiigolden @jonghoharibo @fl0r4f4wn @gh0stbish @kodsukein @vitrealislux @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @spiderrenjunfics @aeoliannie @tannie13 @leeknowsalot @xshansimsx @seojonneh @shingene @justconniez @mingi-banana @anushka-k @nightmarej1n @watamotee33 @dear-dreamie @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest @jaxavance @malyxsoulpersonal @az-con @charreddonuts @beautysirens @sunukissed @lixpixstix

#fic: clair de lune #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez yandere

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