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01zfan · 24 days ago

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presidential suite | s. es

actor!eunseok x actress!reader | 10k words

loved the idea of actor eunseok so much i had to write a fic about it unfortunately.

contains: mentioning money and an uncomfortable relationship with it, reader is assumed to be a prostitute by hotel staff, dry humping on a couch like horny teenagers, eunseok and the reader are enemies kinda

Your taxi finally made the final turn into the roundabout of the hotel. The otherwise dark drive was suddenly illuminated with the bright yellow lights of the lobby and drop-off lane with bellboys ready to tend to the rich with their luggage carts in toll. The hotel trolleys were gold plated and the young boys were clad in black, from their black polished shoes to their glove-bound hands that covered their open-mouthed yawns and picked at their faces in boredom.

When you saw the boys stand at attention waiting for your cab to come to a halt you felt a pang in your heart. Even during the night California was much too hot to be wearing a full suit, and you imagined the pay didn't match the manual labor their job demanded. When you saw their tired faces preemptively light up with the dead customer service smile you were taken back to those days yourself. Young, broke, no clear visions of your future. The memories of working late night odd jobs that didn't pay you enough still plagued your mind. Sometimes you still found yourself using your fake customer service voice, overly cheery with the intent to please by any means necessary. But that isn't to say your new wealth suited you any better. Sometimes you went months without looking at your banking statements, and you were so plagued by guilt that you couldn't identify.

Your guilt made you insist on carrying your luggage up yourself and tipping the bellboys extra despite them not doing any work and taking pictures with them even if you were tired. Because of your guilt you would slip into your customer service mode, and then because you were acting fake cheery you would feel even more guilty. The endless cycle was a downwards spiral, leaving you with an acidic taste in your mouth and making you feel like you've made a fool of yourself. It made you incredibly sweaty too, and your back was already lined with sweat from the excessive layers you wore.

You were lucky that today you weren’t checking into the hotel, technically you weren’t here at all. To everyone’s knowledge—including your team’s—you were back at your motel getting rest in preparation for your long day tomorrow.

You made the decision after filming, one that you told yourself was impulsive even if you had the directions to this hotel saved on your navigation app the second you landed. The person you were here to see told you where he was staying with a simple text. You replied with an even more simple fuck you before going radio silent. He replied with a you wish, and five hours later you were sneaking away in the dead of night.

You left the motel quietly to avoid suspicion from the paparazzi that were hellbent on catching you in the middle of something juicy enough to sell. You called the yellow taxi a five minute walk away from your motel, covered head to toe in black. When you felt how nervous the taxi driver was seeing someone in several layers of clothes in the middle of summer come into the car you felt guilty. Part of you debated on taking off your mask and shedding the jacket, but you didn’t know what he knew. You didn’t know if middle aged man had the paparazzi on speed dial next to that faded picture of his family paper clipped to his foldable windshield, ready to tell them that an a-lister was in his cab going to a hotel that was very much not hers in the middle of the night. Your paranoia made you keep your identity hidden and deepen your voice as you gave him the directions to the hotel across town.

The taxi ride was spent in complete silence. The only sound was from the occasional squeaks from the vinyl seats and the low, low volume of The Hot 100 playing on the radio. As the radio continued playing you realized how out of the loop you were when it came to music. You tried to remember the last time you had a chance to listen to an album in full. Maybe you listened to the latest project of the person that did the soundtrack on your last movie? Something playing in the background as sat in a makeup chair getting ready, or the white noise of rain as you tried to force yourself to fall asleep?

Your schedule was too packed to enjoy anything but work. Your schedule was so much to the point that you were operating on autopilot. Your brain was just a turning cog, something that send a signal to your mouth to open and your limbs to move. You couldn't handle anything more than that most days. You were so lost that your personal assistant set your schedule as your lockscreen, trying to force you to remember how present you’d have to be the following day. The method seemed outlandish, and the schedule was hideous each time you opened your phone, but came in handy; when you turned on your phone to check the time you were reminded of the day you’d have tomorrow.

Hair and makeup: 5:30AM

Breakfast: 7:00AM

Interview #1: 7:45AM

Interview #2: 8:30AM

On set: Filming Scenes 48-52, 77, & 83 9:15AM-9:15PM

Looking at the schedule made your head spin. You already felt your body grow weary at the thought of the work waiting for you the next day.

But did you really have the right to be tired when you were on your way to a hotel getting ready to do anything but sleep?

Behind your mask you slowly started mouthing the lines to the scenes you’d be shooting tomorrow in an effort to make use of the time you were wasting. If your very first agent could see you now, he’d be disappointed. You could see him so clearly, with his nose pointed to the air as he talked about if he was you, he’d never do something so stupid.

You rolled your neck and put a hand on the knot forming at the junction of your shoulder. You dug your fingers underneath your jacket and shirt to prod at the tense muscle, trying to find some form of relief. Now the sound of your jacket moving filled the car, and the sound of your heavy sigh behind your mask followed behind it. You can admit that your newfound wealth did make you feel comfortable in the confined spaces like these ones. You weren't scared to let your presence be known or your discomfort be heard in the back of taxi cabs. You also had your fair share of revelations in the backseats of cars. Your first callback was in the back of a car like this one, the first time you felt like the paparazzi were actually looking for you was in the back of a tinted out van. You just wish you could feel something like that again, giddiness instead of this terrible sinking feeling.

You put your head back and let out a sigh, closing your eyes to try and find a reason why you were doing all of this. In the beginning you loved it, but now it felt like you were grasping at straws to find a solid reason. The art? The money? Because it feels good? Because you like being held?

You could feel the taxi driver look back at you from the rearview mirror, you could tell he was on edge from the way you were behaving. You had half a mind to comfort him, to pull down your mask and ask a question about the current song playing on the radio. But you only blinked hard to try and will away the tight band of ache forming around your head before going back to your phone.

Who isn’t on edge this late at night? You said while scrolling through the script. To be relaxed late at night was a privilege, one that was revoked when you got your first paycheck as an actress.

You told yourself that it’d all pay off a million times over in between reading the lines of the script and suffering through every single pothole in Los Angeles. You told yourself each time your but raised in your seat that was another million in the box office. Each car that had their high beams on and blinded you was another accolade. You were so caught up in your mantra you didn’t even realize you were at your destination until the taxi driver spoke for the first time.

“Is here okay, miss?” He asked.

You looked out the window to see the hotel. Before you could prep your fake voice and tell him to park on the side of the building the taxi pulled into the curved driveway and stopped in the pickup area.

From your tinted window you watched the bellboys flock to you, excited for some sort of work this late into the night. You looked at them motioning for the driver to pop the trunk as you took in the sight of the large building in front of you. You pressed your forehead to the window and still couldn’t see the top, only lights from the rooms that still had people awake and the never ending skyline.

When the view became too much—when everything became too much—you took another deep breath and rested your body against the backseat. You heard the low music from the radio cut off completely as your taxi driver rolled down his window.

“There’s nothing in there!” The driver yelled to the bellboys.

They scattered from the trunk and went to your side of the car next. A trio rushing, and then singled down to one when they realized all of them couldn't open your car door.

They pulled you from your breathing exercise to fully immerse you in the five-star hotel experience. One of the bellhops offered the side of his forearm to you, an invitation to treat him as a living breathing step ladder to get you out of the car. You could feel the air conditioning on full blast from the grand entrance of the hotel, chilling your sweating body.

You quickly reached in your pocket and grabbed a wad of cash, not caring to look at the number on the meter before handing it to the driver. You assumed it was the right amount by how wide his eyes got and the extra arm of a bellhop that came into your line of sight.

“Are you going to be in the area in an hour?” You asked.

The taxi driver nodded, his eyes still fixed on the cash.

“I’ll be here, miss.” He said.

You nodded and grabbed the bellhops arm, feeling your body get pulled from the backseat of the cab to the curb. One of the bellhops told you to watch your step as you were fully hoisted up.

You couldn’t say thank you before another bellhop closed the door. As the taxi driver drove out of the drop off area the other bellhop lead you to the front of the hotel. None of you spoke and you stumbled trying to go through the motions of a life you still weren’t suited for.

The smaller door into the lobby was opened for you by a man in a different suit, one that had an enamel pin of the hotels logo pinned to his lapel. You wish there was a name badge, so you could atleast pretend you were interacting with another human being.

“No luggage, madame?” Enamel Pin asked.

You shook your head, instinctually gripping the arm of the bellboy a little harder. You took in the sight of the lobby behind Enamel Pin, from the white marble floor and the stairs with solid gold handrails.

“No.” You swallowed when you tilted your head and saw the large chandelier. “I’m just visiting someone.” You said.

The air seemed to shift as Enamel Pin and the bellhops eyed you down. You realized the situation long after everyone else, what it could possibly mean for a young woman to arrive at a hotel with rich clientele once the sun went down. But the working class don’t ask questions, they only follow procedure and assumed in hushed voices during their lunch breaks that there are prostitutes coming into their place of work.

So Enamel Pin doesn’t ask you to clarify, he only points towards the concierge and flicks his head subtly the same time the bellhop goes back to standing outside to wait for their next rich customer.

“You can check in at the front desk, miss.” He says.

You’re no longer a madame. You felt like you’ve been striped of a title, you aren’t the distinguished madame but instead the dirty miss who is here to do nothing but tarnish the reputation of this fine establishment. You almost pull down your mask and take off your cap to reveal your true identity, that you’re the one starring in a blockbuster every summer and receiving endless praise for your indie projects. You’re tempted to throw a wad of cash at Enamel Pin and yell I’m nominated for a fucking Oscar, you dipshit! But you keep your words to yourself. You knew by the time you woke up the next morning you’d be circling the gossip pages, your identity badly hidden in a not-so blind item.

Young and rising actress making it rain in the hotel lobby where her former costar ex-fling is staying. You could see it so clearly, and you could see the disappointment of your current agents face even clearer. So you only nod your head and start walking towards the desk, wishing that the bellhop stayed around a little longer to get a tip.

“Who are you visiting today?” The concierge asks.

You lean closer to the desk, trying to hide all evidence that you’re nervous. You assume the same fake deep voice again, trying to sound so different from the movies you’ve starred in.

“Song Eunseok.” You answer.

The concierge looks from her computer at the name. You thought places of this caliber would be a little more inconspicuous. But she is wide eyed, even leans in to make sure you said the right name.

“Song Eunseok?” She asks.

You can practically see the way her eyes light up at the mention of the actor. You still haven’t come to terms that he’s not you’re little secret anymore, that he’s not the same boy you saw at all your low-brow auditions when you first came to the scene. He was an international heartthrob now, one that made women lose their tact and become unprofessional.

No one knew what type of person he truly was underneath all the charm and the good looks.

But it was arguably worse that you knew and were still putting yourself in these predicaments just to see him.

You were in one now, as the concierge started to realize you were a girl going up to his presidential suite dressed like a shadow and like you were hiding something under all of those layers.

She went back to looking at the computer, going over the approved list of visitors.

“What’s your name, miss?” She asked.

In the beginning of your careers when Eunseok still slept in motels and poorly managed inns you never had to worry about checking in. There wasn’t a concierge in a pantsuit but instead it was a man in a stained shirt who didn’t even look up from the game on the television. He would only slide you a key and say Don’t make too much of a mess before going back to his regularly scheduled program.

You were so used to the anonymity that came with being a nobody that you panicked at the question. Your mind scraped through the people in Eunseok’s circle, who would be on the list so you wouldn’t have to give up any of your information. You thought about Minjeong and Wonbin, Eunseok’s stylists and then went to his agent Shotaro. The concierge looked at you expectantly, raising her eyebrows waiting for your response.

“Sohee. Lee Sohee” You adjusted your mask on your face to try and add sureness to your voice. “I’m Song Eunseok’s personal assistant.” You added.

The lady looked at the list then looked to you. Her eyes stayed on your face mask then flitted up to your tinted shades and baseball cap. You could tell she wanted nothing less than to let you upstairs. In her mind she was protecting her precious actor as she reached for the landline in front of her.

“Let me call Monsieur Song to let him know he has a visitor.” She said.

You nodded, feeling another layer of sweat line your back as she looked over the room number. Each button she pressed into the keypad vibrated your skull. Over your shoulder you swore you could feel Enamel Pin staring at you, ready to escort you out.

Maybe you should really get back to your agent on the spy movie she pitched to you. You already had real life experience of lurking in the shadows and going on top secret missions where there was so much at stake. Maybe instead of risking your career you could play a role that would help propel it further.

You pulled your baseball cap as far as it could go and settled into your jacket more. This was the part of the movie where the phone rang for an embarrassingly long amount of time, forcing the concierge to ask for your ID. This was the part that it’d be revealed you were not Lee Sohee, and you were not Song Eunseok’s personal assistant. You were arguably something much worse, something way more valuable to a concierge looking for some extra cash.

Just when she was able to ask you to materialize some form of identification, Eunseok answered the phone. You and the woman drew in a pensive breath the same.

“Monsieur Song. Sorry for calling at this hour but there is a Lee Sohee here to see you.” She said.

Your eyes were focused on the transmitter, trying to imagine Eunseok on the other end of the line. The concierge was imagining him too, she turned her body and played with the handset cord like they were in their own private conversation. You leaned further against the front desk in an effort to hear the conversation. You heard the low hum of a voice on Eunseok’s end but couldn’t make out a response.

The concierge acknowledged your presence again when she took a quick peak over her shoulder. The smile she had faded slightly as she hummed a yes into the transmitter.

“She said she’s your personal assistant.” She said.

Your eyebrows raised as you heard no response on the other end of the line. For a second you thought that Eunseok was going to tell the concierge that Sohee isn’t a girl and would never be up this late at night. But instead you hear more low hum, and the concierge nods again.

“Yes sir. I’m sending her up now.” She says.

She puts the handset on the switch hook and you can see the wistful look in her eyes before she turns to you again. She pulls a sticky note from the pile of her supplies and a pen. After quickly scratching a number onto the note she slides it to you.

“Sir Eunseok is at the top floor in room 7319.” She says.

The relief of not being caught still has you frozen. You take a moment to clear your throat and reach across and grab the note.

“Thank you.” You say.

You’re tempted to slide money across the marble countertop to the concierge, but something holds you back. Maybe it’s the last bit of sense you have left that tells you to try and not make it look painfully obvious you’re doing something you’re not supposed to do. By the time you take the note the concierge is already doing something else that involves her computer. She’s switching between tabs and typing maniacally as if you no longer exist. She doesn’t spare you a second glance as you turn on your heel and head towards the elevator.

As you walk across the lobby to the elevators, you imagine the sound of heels clicking across the floors. Even underneath the heel of your flat worn out shoe you can tell the floor so badly wants to make a noise, that it wants your presence to be known. You purposefully make your steps light as a feather to try and leave no trace of yourself behind.

You find true relief when you’re in front of the elevators and hear the sound of someone coming in, booming about their flight and chatting with Enamel Pin. You silently thank the man for being unashamed to make noise as you press the button to the top floor.

As you watch the red analog number climb you settle further into the corner. Your eyes mindlessly travel around the tiny box, peering from corner to corner until you see it. The small camera hangs from the corner diagonal from you, but it’s pointed at you all the same. You stay unmoving in your spot and you imagine the security guard in the basement staring at your unmoving moving image. You don’t take a step until the elevator doors finally open to the top floor, and you let out a pensive breath when you step across the threshold into the hallway.

Your eyes are fixed on the carpet underneath your feet as you make your way down the hall. Your eyes wander from your worn shoes in contrast to the fresh carpet as you look for an imperfection across the fabric. You don’t see the dark stains caused by God knows what or fraying threads, you don’t feel parts of the carpet that were threadbare from constant foot traffic. All you see is proof of a well managed building. The difference is already staggering, you’re reminded of your motel room that had unknown stains and janitors that did illegal substances in the supply closet. You could’ve sworn there was noise coming from every room on your floor; noise surpassed the tearing wallpaper and leaked into the dimly lit hallways. The sounds of program television and people bounced off the walls of the narrow hallway and even found its way into your room. You had to blast The Price is Right to try and drown out everything, but you slept soundly. You felt more comfortable in the bed you had to check for bugs and bloodstains than you did now.

The hallway you walked down now was completely silent. You strained your ears for signs of life, looking past the doors of the suites imagining someone was there. You were the only source of noise. Each time your heel scraped the carpet you flinched, afraid that someone was going to open one of the doors and shush you to death. The fear of being caught making noise made you knock on Eunseok’s door quietly, three small taps before you brought your arm back to your side.

You knew that Eunseok was going to make you wait outside. He had a habit of forcing you to revel in the lengths you’d go through just to see him. You were in the hallway, completely covered, but still so exposed. You imagined any second one of the doors would open and there’d be a camera pointed at you, and the very next day your career would be over. You shuffled on your worn feet and looked back tot the elevator. Maybe the taxi was still close. You could go back to your motel and get enough rest for your long day tomorrow.

Before you could even fully consider that option the door opened. Light filtered into the dim hallway, and past the tiny gap in the door you saw Eunseok looking down at you. Despite all the layers and all traces of your face being hidden you saw Eunseok’s eyes soften before part of his smile was revealed.

“Kinda late, isn’t it Sohee?” He asked, smile getting even bigger.

You pushed at the door despite the chain keeping it locked in place.

“Let me in.” You ordered.

Eunseok scoffed but didn’t even close the door all the way before getting the metal latch off. Even when there was only a slit of you visible between the cracks of the door Eunseok didn’t take his eyes off you, like he was afraid you would disappear into thin air. He opened the door wide for you, and you stepped into the entryway past him.

You heard the door close and the dead bolt lock as you took in Eunseok’s room. The corridor was small, even smaller than the one at the motel with half the amount of rooms and you understood why. You looked at the hotel room—this presidential suite—to see the full kitchen and California King sized mattress. There was a full sofa, clean and inviting in front of the flatscreen plasma television. Your motel room had scratchy seats and unknown stains on a cramped loveseat with an ancient box television that had screen burn in the bottom corner. The ceilings above you were high, maybe even higher than the ones of your apartment back in New York. There was definitely a better view, from the large windows it looked like you were at the highest point of California.

You were still taking in the view when Eunseok put his hands on your shoulders. You felt him try to turn you, but when you didn’t give in he started pulling at the sleeves of your jacket.

“You told them you were Sohee?” He asks.

Eunseok guides your arms out of your jacket as you walked further into his room. You never understood what a presidential suite meant or what separated it from the other types of rooms in a hotel. But you saw what parts of it was illuminated from the small light hanging above you, and how it seemed to stretch even further past the darkness.

“Because Sohee is a feminine name.” You reason.

Your voice sounds far off as you try to conceptualize how much wealth is in the room. The marble countertops with the stove embedded in and the open bathroom door that exposes the large shower. Your mouth only drops further but Eunseok is unaffected as his heavy hands drag down your arm, feeling your clammy newly exposed skin.

“Could’ve said you were Minjeong.” Eunseok whispers from behind you. His head lowers down to yours, whispering in your ear as you continue to look around the dark suite.

He can’t see the way you shake your head from his suggestion when he turns away to put your jacket on the hook by the large door. He comes back to you and puts his hands on your shoulders again, rubbing your arm and messing with the end of your sleeve.

“I don’t want the gossip pages to have her name in their mouths.” You respond.

Your mouth feels dry when you turn your head and see the light fixtures that hangs from the ceiling. Eunseok bends down to kiss your shoulder but stays there, whispering into your neck.

“You’re that paranoid?” He asks.

As if a switch had been flipped, you turn away from the wealth to look at Eunseok. He already has that knowing smiling etched into his features, like he knew he was pushing your buttons.

His hands reached up to take your mask off, smiling even bigger at the pout that he knew was already there. He lifts your cap and takes off your shades, gathering all the things you used to hide yourslef in the bowl of your upside down cap. He ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek, causing you to reach up and smack his hand away.

You can tell that Eunseok is trying to corral you further into the suite, but your feet are planted. You don’t think you could move past the space of the entryway even if you wanted to. The thought of you not deserving to see so much luxury keeps you focused on Eunseok’s amused face. You don’t dare to look at the walk-in closet next to him or the pristine paintings hanging on the wall.

“No woman is in a mans hotel room this late at night unless—”

“Unless what?” He asks.

Eunseok tilts his head to the side. You hate when he interrupts you. You hate when he looks at you so intently waiting for what you’re going to say next. You hate that he’s so used to the wealth that he wears plain designer shirts to bed. You hate that he seems more comfortable in his skin while you're ready to crawl out of it. You hate that he tilts your chin up when you try to avert eye contact.

“Unless she’s a murderer or a prostitute.” You say. You make sure to emphasize the first word, as if you were capable of hurting Eunseok.

Eunseok takes his hand away from your face to laugh. It’s a dry chuckle but it has something blossoming in your chest, a warmth that’s different from the layers of clothes you were wearing earlier. It's equally strangling, and equally makes the knot form at the base of your neck again.

“I did think you were a stalker at first.” Eunseok walks past you, forcing you to follow him across the room. He subjects you to his wealth, he practically rubs it in your face as he lazily pads to the couch like he owns the place. His black tee and low sweatpants reveals the lowest part of his back for you. You let your eyes stay focused on that as he continues to walk towards the couch. “Sohee would never be here at this hour.” He says.

“But you let me up anyway?” You ask.

You can barely see Eunseok’s expression as he sits on the couch in the near darkness. You thought it would look like he was photoshopped against the backdrop of the Los Angeles skyline, but he was a natural. Eunseok settled into the gray modular couch and put his arm on the back like it was second nature. He spread his legs out and shrugged before looking behind him at the night sky.

“I figured it was you.” He answered.

Whatever you and Eunseok had truly wasn’t all that complicated. Yes you cursed him out before showing up at his suite in the middle of the night and yes you two must hate eachother to some degree. But your separate careers grew side by side, you came out during the summer and he dominated the winter. In the fall that following year—when your careers were still fresh and you two would’ve agreed to anything to chase the fame—you were told about the opportunity you had to grow your careers and build more hype around the project you were both starring in.

Looking back, you could admit you had fun. When work dragged on or you were feeling extra lonely you’d look at old issues of the tabloids, thumbing through the pages until you got to the gossip and celebrity couple section. You'd look down the doggy eared pages of the magazine and look at the paparazzi traps disguised as dates. You looked at the two of you walking around in matching athleisure wear on the way to pilates with Eunseok trailing behind you holding your things and the infamous Central Park date where you two played with children and dogs that weren’t yours. There was even that one photo of you in the bottom corner of the page with Eunseok's hand on your lower back guiding you to your chauffeur. That date felt very real. The drinks you held in your hand was real liquor, you felt actual excitement and the buzz of being in a Hollywood party. Eunseok's hand that reached across the back row of seats to buckle you in was real. The way he pinched your cheek and told you teasingly you should let loose more often was also very real.

The wobbly view you had of him was the same you had now. His pointed noise and high cheekbones, the softness in his expression that defied his sharp features. His hair still fell the same as he continued looking at the outside, picking at the top of the couch like he was subtly trying to find an imperfection. Back then in the back seat of the tinted SUV he was red in the face, looking out the windows in awe of the flashing cameras. Back then you only had your bleary sights on him, you only took in the smile on his face instead of the sounds of paparazzi calling out your name and orders to roll down a window.

That fall you two seemed to be the worlds couple, coming from humble beginnings and navigating the glamour of Hollywood together. You two attended every event attached at the hip, wearing a something that complimented the other and said praises during each interview. For a moment you thought everything was right in the world. The money had started rolling in, the two of you compared checks like kids compared trading cards, wide eyed and passing them in your two-person circle. Eunseok sent you the magazine issue to your new high rise loft in Astoria that had you two on the cover. We look cute together was the note he wrote in permanent marker on the back, you smiled and ran your fingers over the black ink, thinking about how he thought of you all the way in Tempe, Arizona.

Eunseok was the first person you would call when you got a positive feedback, and he was the first one you went to when you ended up losing a role. You believed for a long time the relationship was the same both ways, but when your joint project came out your relationship did what it was supposed to do. You two found solid roles and your names started being mentioned in the acting world. The same time you found out you were in the running for Best Actress the magazines found out the one thing that sells better than love was drama. So less than a week later you found Eunseok snuggled up to the co-star of his upcoming movie underneath the trees at the Maria Hernandez park, playing fetch with a Goldendoodle and cooing at a toddler that was hobbling towards them.

The sides chosen only fueled your anger. People believed that Eunseok wronged you (they were right) and that you were the best thing that ever happened to him (they were also right). Others didn’t really care, but still participated in the feud to say that at the end of the day it didn’t matter because Eunseok had more accolades (they were unfortunately right).

Your hatred for Brooklyn and Eunseok started then, you cut him off without hesitation and ignored his texts begging for reconciliation. You put your nose your work without coming up for air, replacing every moment you had with him in favor of lines for your upcoming films.

Somewhere along the way in the middle of your bout of no contact he caught you (or you caught him, that was still unclear) at a wrap party in NoHo. Minjeong, who you built a real friendship with during your very fake relationship with Eunseok, promised you that he wouldn't be there due to a conflicting schedule. For a moment at her wrap party you were at peace, free to drink due to the lack of press and phones that were collected at the door. But when your nth shot of the night started tasting like water, Eunseok arrived. He took the pregame route, showing up to the party already drunk and haughty like the jackass he truly was. When you were at your weakest and the party was winding down, you two set your eyes on eachother. You narrowly tried to avoid him, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of unknown cast and crew members and their plus ones as he weaved through right behind you. The further you went to try and hide the further you strayed from the crowd.

You ended up in the bathroom (the only one that didn't have people doing coke inside), trying hard to close the door on Eunseok's Golden Goose shoe. You were slurring that his shoes were hideous and he was telling you about the botched trailer for your movie one minute then the next you were on top of the small sink spreading your legs and swapping spit with him. You told him you hated him and his stupid movies and he nodded while sticking his fingers in your mouth. You told him none of it was real and he hesitated, your spit covering his lips in a thin glossy layer before he said sorry so genuinely it made you almost regret everything. You never meant to fold, you never meant to be anything less than cruel to him, but Eunseok grabbed your hands the same way he did when there were no cameras around and kissed each individual knuckle while keeping bleary eye contact with you. He truly seemed sorry when he slid inside of you with a quiet sigh, and you seemed to accept his apology by the way you begged him to go faster.

Something that was meant to be a messy and regretful one time thing for closure happened again, and again, and again. Wherever you were working on for a movie Eunseok seemed to be trailing close behind for his own project. You two begrudgingly came to an agreement, a secret kept behind closed doors.

Despite the level of trust needed for something so reckless you found it hard to be with him. Sometimes you questioned if you even liked Eunseok, or if you were just blinded by the false sense of familiarity and the lasting effects of the dopamine rush from the PR stunt. He was nothing like that boy from humble beginnings you met at your very first audition, the one you felt like understood you. Then he wore beat up shoes and had a hole in his polo where he accidentally tore the fabric trying to remove the logo. The same boy who talked about name brands with disdain was endorsed by several now. The boy that was so afraid to take up space spread out on the Italian leather upholstery and patted his lap like it was a seat.

“Don’t be afraid to get comfortable.” He says.

You start by taking off your shoes, carelessly kicking them behind you where you saw Eunseok’s other pair of shoes lay.

“I can’t get comfortable.” You say.

Him rolling his eyes takes your attention away from the silk sheets on the bed and the large windows that give a full view of the city.

Eunseok picks at the stitching of the upholstery and focuses on his prying fingers. He focuses on the integrity of the couch, lips pulled into a scowl before he turns to you. Almost instantly a taunting smile replaces his features as he settles into the couch again.

“Just because your fake humble doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little luxury.” He taunts.

Despite the snarky comment Eunseok still holds his hand out to you.

“I’m fake humble because I like to save money?” You asked.

Even with your eyes raised in anger and surprise at the jab you start walking towards Eunseok. His smile gets wider with each step you take. The floors are cold against your feet but you feel warm all over. You tell yourself it’s the rage, your body that's burning itself out from being overworked.

Eunseok doesn’t speak again until you stand in front of him. He brings his hand from his lap to hold your waist, a steady grip to keep you in place. He dares to lean forward and press a kiss to your clothed stomach before looking directly up at you. With a sigh your hands go to his shoulders and your head lulls to the side to look down at him.

“I saw how well your last movie did.” This time he lifts up your shirt to press a kiss to your bare waist. He pulls you in a little closer by the belt loop of your jeans before messing with the button. “An extra couple hundred here and there won’t break your bank anymore, baby.” He responds.

"I'm not your baby." You say it quietly, your hand rubbing his hair slowly.

You feel the tension and the forming headache melt away like rain. You already feel relaxed when you shake your head. The need to fight back leaves your mind when you feel Eunseok come forward with his other hand to undo the button.

Your body turns with each pull and before you know it the denim pools at your ankles. You step out of them and Eunseok sees it as his chance to pull you onto his lap. When you try to straddle him he directs both of your legs to one side. You stumble into the position, unsure what Eunseok has in mind for the night until you sit on his lap sideways and he brings an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You can already feel his dick twitching underneath you, but before you can mock him you’re distracted by the feeling of Eunseok running his hands up and down your bare legs. He inches closer and closer where you need him most before retreating. He repeats the motion of tracing up and down your leg over and over again. It’s not long before you’re squirming in his lap and keeping your eyes on anything but the rest of the room. When the teasing becomes too much you finally grab one of Eunseok’s hands and lead it towards your cunt.

“Just because you flaunt doesn’t mean I have to.” You say.

Your words lack bite, the edge is completely gone from your breathy tone. Seeing you remain steadfast while becoming weaker and weaker only fuels Eunseok to make you suffer even more. His hand restricts yours to the side and he waits just above your waistband. He looks at you silently with a pout on his face as your stomach jumps from being so close to getting what you need. Your hand pulls against his grip uselessly and suddenly you're too embarrassed to look at Eunseok anymore.

Your head tilts towards the high ceilings as he finally pushes past your waistband. You arch your back and he pulls you closer before pressing his fingers deep to your clit with his cold middle finger.

“Is that what you tell yourself when you wear designer straight off the runway just to walk around the Upper West Side?” He asks.

Before you can defend yourself Eunseok presses deeper into your clit, pulling a pained whine from your lips and a pathetic thrust. His refuses to trace down to your slit to collect your slick before messing with your clit. Somehow it is infuriating but erotic that he knows how to not touch you but does it anyway. He doesn't treat you sweetly, he doesn't do what your hands guide him to do. He does what he wants, he goes straight to picking up the speed on your clit that sends currents through your body.

When he realizes you can’t speak anymore only then does he dip his hand down further, gathering the slick from your hole and prods your entrance with his two fingers. You feel the tension and pressure from his fingers, you preemptively let out a sigh and a small shake when Eunseok kisses your temple. The kiss is passive and small, but it makes you relax enough for Eunseok to slide his fingers inside of you.

You practically suck his two fingers in, and you whine out to the large light fixture above you. You turn your head to Eunseok’s chest seeking some type of comfort but he gives you nothing of the sort. Even if you are cradled in his lap he doesn’t baby you, he doesn’t coo at you affectionately while pumping his fingers in an out of your heat.

“Seriously. You think just because you stay at The Struggle Inn on the other side of the tracks you’re humble?” Eunseok presses the pad of his finger against your walls for emphasis. “This little persona you got going on makes me sick sometimes.” He laughs.

“Sometimes?” You breath.

You let out a labored whine from the feeling of Eunseok playing with you. He’s making a mess of you and you’re almost ashamed that you do nothing about it. Your hand reaches back to dig into the firm cushion of the couch as a means to ground yourself. You see Eunseok look from your clothed cunt to you, nodding his head as he pushes his fingers in deeper. You can feel his soft fingers, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle as your back arches. When your chest is high enough he kisses your covered nipple until you lower it out of his lips reach.

“Sometimes it’s so cute seeing your eyes get all wide like you don’t have money. Kinda feels like I’m ruining you.” Eunseoks’ free hand travels up your back and moves your body close to his. Your hands go back to gripping his shoulders instead of keeping yourself propped up. You lean all your body weight on Eunseok’s side and his arm as he runs his eyes up and down your twitching body. “You’re committed to the bit, I gotta give you that.” He laughs.

“Not a bit.” You respond.

You don’t know how he manages to string so many words together during times like this. You’re all for the jabs at ones character—especially Eunseok’s—but you think it is extremely unfair when you can’t form a coherent sentence that doesn’t involve whimpering his name. He further tips the scale by plunging another finger into your heat and using his hand to lean your head against his shoulder. One of your legs stays on the couch but the other slides off, opening yourself up to him even more.

“Slumming it in a motel while filming a movie with a half million dollar budget.” Despite being in a position of comfort Eunseok’s words have the opposite effect. He’s sturdy against you, unmoving from your body twitches and sudden movements when he hits that spot he has memorized. He so clearly wants to aggravate you while bringing you pleasure, he wants you to fight with him while he bends his hand at an odd uncomfortable angle just for you. “Aren’t you sick of it?” He asks.

“No. I’m not.” You try to bite back but your body preens forward into Eunseok’s fingers and your head leans fully into his shoulder. “Not everyone becomes a classist pig after a little success in the box office.”

“It was actually after I got my first Emmy.” Eunseok’s hand wraps around your waist and brings you further into his lap. Eunseok speeds up his hand as he brings his face closer to yours, so close your clammy cheeks touch. “You wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” He sneers.

Everything always goes back to that fucking Emmy. You still remember being up against him in the Outstanding Limited or Anthology Series. Your project was your one and only attempt at anything that wasn’t a movie, and it was Eunseok’s first of many. You remember thinking about how nice the titles of your shows looked side by side when Eunseok won. The fan wars that were fueled by Eunseok’s win plagued your social media feed for weeks. You still periodically saw the clip of Eunseok appearing on screen before the camera cut to you in the crowd.

“The award wasn’t just for you.” You dig your hands into Eunseok’s waist to try and ground yourself. “You’e not that special. Just a one trick pony.” You lie.

Your heart only has the chance to drop for a second from your lie before Eunseok chuckles again. His fingers inside of you don’t even falter from your jab, instead his other hand pushes your leg until you move it to one side. Your other leg comes up from the ground and before you know it you’re straddling Eunseok as his fingers continue to push into you. The squelching sounds between your two bodies is louder than the kiss he places on your sweaty forehead before going to your ear.

“You haven’t even seen all my tricks.” He teases.

Eunseok bested you once again. You have nothing to say in response to his fingers that suddenly picked up their pace, you only clutch at him tighter and moan so pitifully it’s barely muffled by his shirt. Your voice floats up to the ceilings as you crumble against his chest. You see the darkened spot on the shirt from your saliva the same time you feel Eunseok press a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re breaking my heart, honey.” He coos. “I didn’t take you for the competitive type.”

Eunseok’s hands increase their pace and you can already feel more drool peaking past your lips. You’re being bullied to the edge and Eunseok hasn’t even take his pants off yet. You squirm in his touch again, pressing your hips down to feel his hard dick jump in his sweats. The feeling pushes you forward, it gives you motivation to try and speak.

“I’m not competitive.” You lie again.

Eunseok hums and slips his fingers out of you. The lack of stimulation causes you to whine but gives you room to push your hips against his. Eunseok’s wet fingers grab at your hip and works them back and forth. You hear the content sigh tumble past his lips as your hands grip the couch on either side of his head. You finally find the strength to lift your head up and press your open mouth to Eunseok’s.

“Then say my movie is gonna do better than yours.” Eunseok murmurs against your lips and pushes you down again. You pant hot air into his mouth and tilt your head, silently wishing he’d kiss you instead of taunting you. “Say it and I’ll fuck you so good.” He says simply.

You shake your head and Eunseok runs his hands up and down your arms, light as a feather to make goosebumps raise across your skin. He pulls away from your lips and looks at your heaving chest and your perked nipples that poke against the fabric. One of his hands harshly pinches at your nipple, causing you to cry out. As an instinct you smack his hand even harder. He looks up from your chest to your face with a smile on his lips.

“So, so, so good.” He taunts.

Eunseok looks you in your eyes again but you can’t even bring yourself to retort. You are still trying to clear the haze and calm your lust from the edging. You only slightly back away from the peak of pleasure before you start pressing your hips down on Eunseok’s. Your previous position on his lap made it had to feel it but straddling his hips let you feel all of him. He throbs against your clothed pussy through his gray sweatpants. Eunseok even lifts his hips upwards to press against you more. You breath heavily into the crook of his neck, but you still shake your head weakly.

“I’m not gonna say it.” You whimper.

“Then you’re not getting it.” Eunseok groans.

For a moment your heart drops at the thought of Eunseok lifting you off his lap or holding your waist to cease your movements. But Eunseok is caught up the same way you are, even if he tries to act like he isn’t. He doesn’t want you to stop, clear in the way he greedily moves your hips when you lose your pace.

You can feel his dick continue to pulse, the stimulation has you dragging your bare cunt on the fabric of his sweatpants. You swear you can feel all of Eunseok and he moans like he can feel all of you too. His hands press unbelievably hard into your waist to help guide you up and down his length.

“You’re not getting it.” He repeats.

Eunseok is so quiet you think he is speaking to himself rather than to you. But you still nod in the crook of his neck, kissing the exposed skin before tilting your head upwards towards his ear.

“I’m not getting it.” You echo.

Eunseok brings a hand between your shoulder blades and presses your chest against his. he starts lifting his hips with more fervor, letting out a quiet curse into the air when a tiny whine escapes your throat. You purposely push your hand against Eunseok’s thigh just so he will grab your wrist and hold it against your lower back.

“You wouldn’t even be able to handle it, would you?” He whispers.

"It's been too long." You quietly whimper back.

Moments like these where you two are so desperate to be quiet takes you back to your motel days together. The walls were thin as paper back then and you two had an irrational fear of being caught like you weren’t two consenting adults. You’d moan and whimper quietly into eachothers ears, chasing so desperately after that feeling you were both pursuing now. Back then you two would kiss alot more and only praises would fall from Eunseok's lips.

You weren’t sure what you preferred. Pleasure was pleasure the same way wealth was wealth no matter who was administering it. You did wonder if clutching at Eunseok’s shirt would’ve been more fulfilling if you two were on the stiff loveseat cramped in the corner of your motel room. You wondered if hearing him moan your name sweetly would’ve sent you over the edge faster if he still presented himself the same way he used to.

The thought of slumming it with Eunseok again brought you back to the edge again. You went back to the crook of Eunseok's neck as your body swayed against his. You felt the impeding orgasm loom over you. You dug your nails into his shirt and leaned against the back of the couch. For a moment you were so lost in the throes of pleasure you forgot where you were. When you opened your eyes you remembered, and when you remembered it felt further away than ever.

You were subjected to the view from the top floor of this fancy hotel, looking down at the rest of the city beneath you. You saw the cars of people just now getting off from their shifts or people heading to work while you were all the way up here, carelessly enjoying the life of luxury by fucking in the presidential suite. Your hands were tangled in the hair of your arguably richer ex-whatever, and you were grinding on custom Italian that cost more than what most made in a year. You remember being down there, struggling to get a decent nights rest after being a corporate slave all day. That was your life but it felt like an eternity ago. Instead of Eunseok and what he was giving you your mind went to the yawning bellhops and the barista who made your coffee this morning. You saw them in the dark reflection next to yourself in the glass of the window. You focused on your mussed appearance and the back of Eunseok's head. Maybe this really was a persona, maybe you were something worse.

“I can’t.” You whimpered suddenly, stilling your hips against Eunseok’s.

Eunseok looked from your waist to you. His furrowed eyebrow went from focused to confused. You looked at the sweat dot his forehead and line his top plump lip. He looked like he did when you first met, taking you back to the time you wanted to escape from so badly. When you tried to pull away Eunseok shook his head and continued to hold you close. Your loudest sound fell from your lips, something between overwhelming pleasure and the unbearable guilt that comes with achieving success you can barely conceptualize.

“You can. You’re so close already.” Eunseok pulls your view away from your reflection to press your forehead against his. He looks at you intently again, like you were his beginning and end. “My star.” He coos.

Your hips falter at the nickname. Eunseok smiles and grinds his clothed dick against you again, showing that your nickname has an effect on him too. You press your forehead harder against his, the sweaty surfaces sticking together as you two let out heavy pants. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing, squeezing around air as you get closer and closer to the edge. The grip you have on Eunseok becomes so strong your hands begin to shake.

“I’m close.” Eunseok breaks apart from your forehead to lean his head against the couch. His neck is on full display for you, the protrusion in the middle of his throat bobs up and down as he tries regaining his composure. “Keep going.” He whines.

Everytime without fail, Eunseok became the most vulnerable right before he finishes. His own persona crumbles before you. If you ever brought up how pitiful he becomes in the pursuit of his orgasm he would accuse you of projection, but his submission was so palatable you could taste it. He was no longer the cocky movie star, but a defenseless whining mess underneath you. You could always see how badly he wanted to be taken care of, it was written on his lips and evident in the way his grip tightened on you but no longer guided your movements. He needed you to press deeper into him, to kiss him all over and talk him through it.

“Look at me.” You said.

Whether your voice was commanding enough didn’t matter, because Eunseok opened his eyes almost immediately. You looked at him instead of looking around his suite or looking past him outside the large windows. You stayed locked in on Eunseok’s blown out eyes, focusing on yourself in his eyes instead. You never changed on the glassy wet reflection. You still looked the same when you stared intensely at them.

Something about Eunseok being so weak made you feel strong. You forgot about your overwhelming guilt to press your hips down to Eunseok’s and rock against him quickly, looking directly into his eyes. He only lasted a moment before his back arched off the couch and his eyes were screwed shut. You moved one of your hands from Eunseok’s shoulder to thread through his hair, pulling tightly as your hips continued to move.

He started twitching underneath you and you let yourself collapse against his chest. Designer perfume and Eunseok filled your nose as you whimpered against his chest and a beat later the familiar warmth washed over you. Your hips started moving erratically as you settled deeper into his chest, repeating that you were cumming after Eunseok already came in his sweats.

“Go ahead.” Eunseok weakly cooed at you as his hands ran up and down your back. “I got you.”

You nodded against his chest, and you didn’t stop nodding until you felt the warmth subside. You let out a heave against Eunseok’s chest. The both of you had matching heart rates and the same heavy pants.

You rested against him and he pulled you closer, still rubbing your back as you came down. When you could manage moving your body agains you started massaging Eunseok’s scalp, paying closer attention to the area that you had his hair tugged between your fingers.

Even with knowing you were a sticky sweaty mess you felt comfortable. When you were against Eunseok’s shoulder all you saw was him. You didn’t worry that you defiled the expensive Italian sofa or that you might’ve disturbed the neighbors. You were only focused on the whirring of a machine somewhere and the fact that Eunseok smelled like you now. Everything was reminiscent of the life you were accustomed to.

“So.” Eunseok clears his throat and lets his head rest against yours that’s still slumped in his shoulder. “You gonna stay the night? Or go back to the dirty motel?” He asks.

Instantly the veil is lifted. The fog in your mind clears and the strength comes back to your limbs. You pull out of Eunseok’s hold get up from his lap with a grunt and walk over to your pants, pulling them up your leg as Eunseok scoots forward to the edge of the sofa.

“Don’t be like that.” He says.

You shake your head again and pull up your pants quickly. You even wag your finger as Eunseok to show him he’s really messed up.

“You ruined it.” You say.

You walk through the dark of the suite, trying not to run into anything on your way out. The worst thing would be to leave a trace of your presence anywhere. You want to be in and out like a ghost, you want to be back in the comfort of your scratchy sheets.

“Seriously you should stay.” You hear a tiny gross leave Eunseok’s lips as he gets up from the couch. You can hear his bare feet against the floor of the room as pads after you. You don’t turn around, you only reach for your baseball cap sitting on top of the command center. “It’s so late.” He reasons.

Your mask is already on your face by the time Eunseok makes it to your side. His voice is hoarse, when you turn around you see his hair is still bumped on one side as you secure the baseball cap onto your head.

“I gotta get back to my dirty motel.” You emphasize the end. Eunseok’s eye roll and the dark splotch on his sweats is tinted behind the your shades before you turn to grab your jacket. “My taxi is waiting for me.” You say.

You can tell Eunseok has given up any attempt to get you to stay when you zip up your jacket. Instead he puts his hand on the doorknob, stopping you from pulling it open. When your hand goes to the deadbolt Eunseok puts his hand over that too. You see his softened gaze behind the dark tint of your shades, so inviting you have the urge to stay.

“How long are you in LA for?” Eunseok asks.

Your hand goes to the small chain above the deadbolt lock right beside Eunseok’s head.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You say.

Eunseok puts his hands up in defense and you take the moment to undo the lock and turn the knob. The door is heavy, it pulls you slightly forward as you try to open it. Eunseok helps you the rest of the way and you’re forced to walk past him to go into the hallway. You don’t dare to turn back and look at Eunseok when you make it to the hallway. You keep your eyes on the elevator only, so close to escape.

“Maybe next time we can fuck on the nasty sheets in a motel?”

Eunseok speaks above his normal volume because he knows it will make you turn around. He swears he can see the indignation in your eyes as you point your finger at him in warning. He puts his hands up in defense again and laughs at your reaction.

“Shut up.” You seethe behind gritted teeth.

“I’m just saying it’ll be a nice change of pace for me.” He says, equally as loud.

Eunseok is happy he’s able to wear you down when you pull out your phone and start vigorously typing. He hears his phone chime behind him on top of the command center before you stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“I sent you my schedule for the next month.” You point your finger at him again as you start heading backwards to the elevator. “Don’t make me regret it.” You seethe.

Eunseok leans against his door, nodding mockingly.

“You won’t.” He says.

Eunseok stays leaned against his door even when you turn away from him and walk towards the elevator. He doesn’t catch your eye again until you turn inside the open elevator to face the exit. He decides to be even more of an asshole by bowing to you just to show you how grateful he is. Eunseok waves to you with all his might as the doors came to a slow close in front of you.

You make it back down to the lobby, the same staff there as when you went up. You notice the concierge staring at you from across the lobby. You feel her gaze never leave your body as you shift uncomfortably from the unwanted attention and the feeling from your underwear. Enamel Pin doesn’t say a word to you as he opens the door, he barely gives you a nod as you walk past him.

The bellhops look from the yellow taxi to you, they make a step towards the back of the cab before standing still in their place. You don’t know what you’re waiting for but you’re still too. Everyone outside is still, no one moves until you hear see the passenger side window roll down.

“Have a nice night, miss.” Enamel Pin says.

The bellhops move to the car that comes up behind the taxi and your feet finally move. You open your own door and clamber into the backseat. You close your own door and motion for the driver to take you back to the same spot.

You look up from your seat in the car, trying to find the top floor of the hotel. It’s impossible to see from down here. You still try to find the top as the cab leaves the lobby, heading the same direction you came from.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

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babushkatty · 1 year ago

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Tranquil SAGAU - Part 4

-> Part 1

-> Part 3

-> Part 5

Crepus, true to your initial assumptions of him being sunshine personified, very enthusiastically invited you over for tea once everything in the caravan was cleaned up, the wounded were attended to and the Knights of Favonius reluctantly went on their way.

And by tea, he meant dinner.

And by dinner, he meant a feast that could easily feed an army.

Truly, the Ragnvindr were rich beyond comprehension. Whatever the heart desired, it was at the table. Northern Apple Stew, Northern Smoked Chicken, Sweet Madame, Flaming Red Bolognese, Barbatos Ratatouille, Calla Lily Seafood Soup, Crem Stew, Cold Cut Platter, Satisfying Salad, Sticky Honey Roast -- all alongside many dishes you knew for a fact weren't in the game at all (there was something ravioli-adjacent, a plate of potatoes with seasonings, some dumplings, small snacks, sweet desserts and you even spied something that looked suspiciously like Meringue and was that Tofu? wasn't Tofu Liyuen?), with Apple Cider, Water, tea and a lot of fancy wine (couldn't do without wine at a winery, after all) to serve as drinks.

You had no idea how you were meant to eat so much, or how to even attempt to taste a little bit of everything without your stomach protesting. Did rich people train themselves into having a bottomless stomach so that they could eat what they were given without offending anyone?

"So, (Name)," Crepus began, fancily sipping at his fancy glass of fancy wine, "How come you and your... Friend, arrived at just the precise time to prevent any serious harm? Surely it wasn't a coincidence?"

He chuckled good-naturely as he twirled his wine in circles.

Look at Crepus, digging into the matter without sounding accusatory or condescending! In fact, he sounded eager. You could almost imagine the wagging tail and perked up ears.

Suddenly, you realized who exactly Kaeya took after in his habit of talking circles around people on a daily basis. Not entirely of course -- where Kaeya was smug and suave, Crepus was a giant fluffy friend that had you wrapped around its' paw, because how could you possibly say no to that face? You wouldn't hide anything from a friend, would you? You wouldn't, it was a friend after all, you were so comfortable around him for a reason, there was no need for suspicion and paranoia around sweet old Crepus!

You heard of people weaponizing stupidity, but weaponizing your gold-lab-like personality? That was a first and you clearly met a master of the craft.

"It's a coincidence. Dvalin took me flying every day for the past week. He sensed something off in the distance, so we went to check it out and, well... Ursa happened."

You shrug and sip at your Apple Cider.

Crepus did not look any less excited than before. If anything, he smiled wider and the imaginary tail you swore you saw picked up in speed -- contrasting greatly with Diluc who just sat in his chair silently, with his eyes burning a hole right through you.

A bit unnerving, but what could you do other than endure? Not like he was doing anything wrong, everyone did a little bit of unsettling staring every once in a while.

And besides, this wasn't the Diluc who would burn an Abyss Mage into unconsciousness just to burn them awake for information, this was a baby. A Diluc that wasn't hardened by the loss of his family, by the betrayal of his adopted brother turned Khaenri'ah spy, by the corruption of the Knights of Favonius he sincerely admired and by Snezhnaya kicking him while he was down. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve and now you got sad thinking about what would have happened had you (and Dvalin... Mostly Dvalin...) not been there to intervene.

Everything was not Daijoubu.

"Then what did you friend mean, when he said you could permamently put down Ursa?"

Crepus sounded so genuinely curious and excited, it was adorable. How was this grown ass man so cute? With that crime against humanity of a beard too? It was utter witchcraft!

For a moment, you considered lying about your situation. You considered outright saying you couldn't tell because of personal reasons. You considered following the role model of all fools, Nie Huaisang, and shaking your head out of the situation, repeatedly saying 'you didn't know, you didn't know, you really didn't know--!'

But then you realized the cat was partly out of the bag anyways (thanks Dvalin, you're as subtle as a brick to the face) and it would be just a waste of effort on your part.

"No idea. He's convinced I'm the All-Mother of Teyvat and the longer I am around, the stronger I'll get. Theoretically, it would mean I could do something about Ursa somewhere down the line, but that's if I'm the All-Mother at all, which I doubt."

(Quietly, you refused to acknowledge the part of you that has long since accepted Teyvat would never hurt you and that you may be the All-Mother. Damn Dvalin and his silver tongue, it's like Venti getting Genshin!Diluc on his side with his song all over again!)

Crepus positively shook in excitement, a grin so bright you really wished for sunglasses this time. It's like this sunshine of a man had made it his personal mission to blind you.

Diluc just looked stunned silly, eyes wide like saucers and mouth slightly open in shock.

You sip at your Apple Cider awkwardly, thanking the Archons that neither Kaeya nor the Dawn Winery staff were around to add more weirdness to this disaster of a dinner.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

Look at me, completely ignoring Canon.

Did Crepus have a personality in Canon? Maybe. I didn't read the manga. Do I know what it might be? Nope. I didn't read the manga, so now he's an excited gold lab with a side seasoning of sly fox.

The beauty of fanfiction, reality is whatever the hell I want it to be.

Sometimes you need to just run with half a fact you probably misheard and misinterpreted to make something fun happen, SAGAU needs some fluffy vibes without the damn cult worship.

The people that know what they're doing are writing impostor AUs and cult AUs, so might as well volunteer myself as tribute for this one.

I should probably make a masterlist at some point, shouldn't I? The parts are going to grow really fast considering I keep them all short.

Something to think about.

✨Taglist✨

@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt

Heeeey, mmeatt's tag works finally! It only took me 3 parts to figure it out!

Also special mention to @chaoticfivesworld who casually dropped some important lore on me in a comment, probably not realizing it would become a plothole in the future because, I repeat, I don't know canon as much as I probably should.

Yolo.

#genshin sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #genshin impact #x reader #genshin x reader #isekai #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #self aware genshin

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lordprettyflackotara · 6 months ago

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hitchhiker || chapter four || the proxies

tw: stalker hoodie, hoodies a bit gross in this one ngl, i think this is a fair warning, paranoia, blood, some fluffy shit w tim

i am proud to announce that hitchhiker now has a masterlist with a link to wattpad! find it here!! thank you to everyone who has helped me navigate using other platforms <3

<— previous chapter

Hoodie could understand your appeal.

What he couldn’t understand, was why Tim and Toby had picked you specifically.

Sure, your skin was soft and glowy. Your big innocent doe eyes were doll like. Hoodie’s darker urges craving to see them weep tears under his hand. Although you had overlooked their original odd behavior, was that enough? Were your looks and obliviousness enough to keep you alive?

Hoodie couldn’t understand Toby and Tim’s infatuation with you. It was becoming truly nauseating, sitting through them yapping about you all day long. You were the hottest topic of conversation, the rants about Jeff’s sloppy murders long discarded. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he figured he’d have to do his research.

And every good research session begins the same way: observation.

Hoodie had no issue watching you. He watched as you scrambled to get ready for work, showering so quickly he hardly had time to watch you dry off. He sat perched in an old oak tree across from your building, the overgrown branches and leafs concealing his presence. He noted you truly were oblivious, all of your curtains wide open. Maybe you thought being on the fourth floor saved you from having a peeping tom. In which case, you were terribly wrong.

He watched as you chatted with (who he assumed to be) Nova while running around, his eyes narrowing. Your friend seemed put together, a navy blazer and slacks dressing her thin frame. His eyes flickered back over to you, watching you get ready for work. You did have a nice figure. Your apron only emphasizing the fact. Hoodie had watched Nova slide on the blazer, her upper arms toned with muscle. Huh. So much for a lazy overweight detective. Those targets were easy to get rid of. Toby, in the mist of his yapping about his delightful walk home with you, mentioned Nova. He mentioned the vanilla folder and the case she was working on. Hoodie believed he was the first of the three to have the suspicion she took Winston’s place.

Usually task forces would lay off of the investigation once their colleagues began getting killed. But every so often, there would be a feisty motherfucker who only wanted to indulge in the case deeper. He watched as you darted out of your apartment, Nova grabbing her things and following you. His eyes searched for the vanilla folder. He watched her pack her beat up satchel, random white papers and pens being thrown inside. Yet, no vanilla folder. He grinned devilishly as Nova exited your apartment. Toby would be keeping a close eye on her investigation as she studied the Winston case. They had eyes everywhere, your date with Tim proving to be useful. It gave Hoodie enough time to truly snoop around.

His mind circled back to the vanilla folder, the bane of his existence in your best friends possession. Nova hadn’t left with the documents, the vanilla folder not on her person. Her not leaving with the folder meant one thing and one thing only: it was in your apartment. What did that mean? That Hoodie was going to be able to steal it with ease.

You felt like you were becoming paranoid. Your shift at Olive Garden was the same stressful experience it always was. Screaming children. Argumentative customers. Loud laughter. However, you felt like you were watched. You couldn’t figure out how or why. Your paranoia made you check on your tables faster. Your eyes constantly flickered around the restaurant, searching for the culprit. But all you found were families or couples eating their pasta and bread. By the end of your shift you were beat, shuffling into the bathroom to change clothes.

Davidson park was practically a straight shot from your work, there was no sense in dropping by your apartment. You briefly glanced at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to acknowledge how terrible you felt you looked. You were sure your lips were cracked and your eyes had dark circles decorating them. You shuffled into a bathroom stall, slipping out of your work uniform. You wondered if your perfume could truly mask the nauseating smell of pasta sauce. You began to put on deodorant, the light in the bathroom flickering.

You blinked a few times, trying to ensure you weren’t just sleep deprived. You looked up, a large bug caught in the ceiling light. It was bouncing between the light stick and the glass, creating the smallest sound of movement. You could see its shell, as well as its leggings thrashing around. You shoved it off, resuming changing into your normal clothes. You shoved on your boots, the unsettling feeling of you being watched falling over you again. This time you looked at the bottom gap of the stall door and the floor, a large set of black business shoes standing outside of your stall door. You blinked a few times, as if to double check what you were seeing was really there. “Hello?” You croaked, your mouth seemingly running dry. When was the last time you had drank water?

A gust of wind rushed past you, your head snapping behind you. You were in a tiny bathroom stall, what the actual fuck was creating wind? You turned back to the front of the stall, the pair of shoes now disappeared. Shoving your shirt over your head you exited the stall, looking around the bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, an eerie silence ensuing. Looking up you noticing the bug was no longer moving. Logically you should’ve been fine with it, the small creatures demise caused by the electricity. But the sight of the smallest pool of blood from the bugs corpse made your stomach churn, your face growing pale. How was that possible? The bug was a beetle, not a mosquito or anything with a handfuls worth of blood.

You ripped away your horrified gaze, forcing yourself to look at the floor instead. You shuffled out of the bathroom in a rush, the door hitting the wall as you flung it open. Ignoring the weird looks and questions from your coworkers you left the restaurant. You felt unsteady as you got in the car, your hands planting themselves firmly on the steering wheel. You felt like you had just seen a ghost, the crimson paint staining your mind. You swallowed and attempted to even out your breathing as you put the key into your ignition. You needed to get your shit together. You took a deep breath, putting your car in reverse and heading to see Tim.

Hoodie took his time inspecting your apartment, trying to see what he could find out about you. His curiosity as to what made you so interesting nagging him mid mission. With his partners not around, it gave him the freewill to be as nosy as he wanted to be without repercussions. Your apartment was tiny and cluttered, but he determined your clutteredness was from the lack of space more than being messy. Hoodie’s opinion shifted slightly at the sight of your last outfit on the bathroom floor. Your red lacey underwear caught his eye, the blonde smirking under his mask.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He squatted down, picking up the fabric with his ring finger. Hoodie could just imagine your round ass in these, the red complementing your skin tone. He lifted his ski mask just above his nose, inhaling the crotch material of your dirty panties. His face flushed red with lust. His cock was slowly beginning to grow in his jeans, the proxy pulling himself away from the fabric. He took a deep breath, imagining his tongue in between your folds as you pleaded for more.

Ahh yes, Hoodie would do anything to see you beg.

Regaining his focus he wadded up the panties, shoving them in his back pocket. He needed to focus. He left your bathroom, rounding over to your bedroom. Your dresser was covered in various perfumes and jewelry. Did you have more money than you were letting on? He picked up a large necklace, the fake jewels shining back at him in the moonlight. Thankfully you left your lamp on, the blonde beginning to rummage through your belongings more unhinged. He lifted up your mattress, looked under your bed, in your pillow cases, in your nightstands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a trace that it was here.

Hoodie gritted his teeth as he pulled open your dresser drawers. His anger temporarily subsided as he eyed the first drawers contents. Rows of undergarments and bras nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He rummaged through your drawers, the folder no where in sight. He stomped into the kitchen, the living room empty besides a couch, old wooden coffee table, matching with a the same wooden TV stand, and an ancient television. His eyes wondered around your kitchen, landing on a stack of bills with large red OVERDUE stamps plastered on the front. Hoodie picked up the one on top, examining it.

Huh. Not necessarily poor, just poor spending habits. He tossed the envelope aside, continuing his search for the vanilla bane of his existence. And he wouldn’t be leaving until he found it.

You walked beside Tim down the sidewalk path, cool breezes rushing past the two of you. “So how was work?” He asked, starting conversation. Your shift was unnotable, if you took away the feeling of being watched and blood bug. “The usual. My table five had a lot of screaming children but it ended up being fine,” You answer as honestly as you could. You didn’t want to sound crazy, your paranoia getting the best of you. “What about you?” You added. You shoved your hands in your army green jacket, Tim’s hands shoved in his own mustard coat. For a brief second you saw a look of shock flash across Tim’s face, before he resumed his usual expression.

“The usual,” He answered truthfully. He shoved off the uncanny feeling of the Operators static depriving his senses. It wasn’t a usual punishment, the Operator more angry he had to send Kate than anything else. He always had a soft spot for the girl. “We both hate our jobs huh? You look like you just had a ptsd episode,” You chuckled, playfully elbowing him. Your innocence made Tim’s heart flutter, even with the deeper meaning your words unknowingly had. “You’re one to talk about ptsd episodes. You looked scarred when talking about screaming children,” Tim teased. He playfully poked your side, causing you to giggle. The moon hung in the sky, in seemingly a creepy smile. You made Tim feel normal, even if his life was no where near it.

“Oh please anything involving children provokes that face. I can’t imagine having them,” You say. The two of you strolled in unison, the street lights illuminating your path. “Really? Not even down the line?” Tim asked curiously. Of course it was impossible for him to have kids. He would never allow you to get pregnant, not from him or Brian or Toby. There was always the chance the Operator would be interested in the child. He couldn’t risk it. “Maybe. I’d always be afraid I let the wrong guy get me pregnant though,” You admitted. You felt your face go pale with embarrassment. “Oh fuck I said too much huh?” You laughed nervously. Tim couldn’t help but smile at your nervousness. You had no idea how cute you were.

“Not at all. You don’t have to worry around me. I’ve seen and i’ve done weirder things,” Tim told you. You both walked to the towns lake, the watery murky black as the moonlight reflected off of the glassy surface. “I’m really glad I met you Tim. I feel like you get it,” You say honestly. Tim raised an eyebrow, an owl hooting in the distance. “Get what?” He asked curiously. You flashed a nervous smile, tucking some hair behind your ears. “Like you get me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit in everywhere I went. Yet I feel at home with you three. It’s such an odd comforting feeling,” You explain softly. Tim took a step towards you, gently grasping your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, your breath hitching as his hot breath danced across your cool skin.

His chapped lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead, his touch soft and sweet. And most importantly, purposefully gentle. Tim pulled away slowly, holding your face in his gloved hands. You looked up at him, mesmerized by his chocolate orbs. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, soaking in your touch. You wanted to kiss him, his lips just out of reach. Tim wanted nothing more than to kiss you, his core yearning to taste your sweet plump lips. But he was trying to restrain himself. He knew he couldn’t have you. None of them could.

Slowly he pulled away from you, turning his gaze back to the black lake. You could feel the heat still dancing across your cheeks. Dumbfounded you turned towards the lake as well, standing side by side with the man you yearned for. There was an unsettling silence, one you decided to break.

“Hey Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Your mouth ran dry, your nerves getting the best of you. “Nothing never mind,” You babbled. You wanted to tell him about the bug. The shoes. The paranoia. But you didn’t want to scare him away. Tim raised an eyebrow, digging in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beat up box of cigarettes, the red and white box shining in the moonlight. “Cig? It would help you loosen up a bit,” He offered. You had never considered touching a cigarette a day in your life. But the box sitting in Tim’s hand couldn’t look more intriguing even if it tried. Slowly you pulled one out of the box, looking at it. Tim did the same, immediately putting the stick to his lips. “You’ve never smoked before huh?” He asked. Shooting him an anxious smile you chuckled. His bluntness relaxed your nerves, your shoulders relaxing.

“What gave it away?” You asked him. Tim began digging around in his pocket, searching for a lighter. “You mean besides the fact that you’re eyeing it like it’s poison?” Tim chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the brunette flicking the lighter. He gave it a few flicks, the lighter finally producing a small flame. He inhaled sharply, the end of the cigarette lighting. “Haha very funny,” You replied dryly. Tim grinned as he exhaled the tobacco smoke out of his nose. You blinked, your morals seemingly nose diving out of the window at the sight of him. “You’re holding it like a nerd, go ahead and place it in between your lips for me pretty girl,” Tim instructed. Your cheeks turned pink as you placed the cigarette in between your lips. “Great now keep it there. When I tell you to, inhale for me,” He said. His words were getting to you, from his praise to referring to do things for him.

It made your core throb with an ache you had ignored for a long time.

He brought the lighter to the end of your cigarette, sparks flying as he tried to ignite it. The lighter refused to ignite, Tim’s eyes narrowing. “While I figure this out, you wanna tell me what you were going to a moment ago?” He asked. He took a step closer to you, attempting to block the wind from extinguishing the flame. “I uh, it’s hard to explain,” You said, your cigarette still dangling from your lips. Tim shook the lighter, growing increasingly annoyed. “I have terrible insomnia, nothing you can say will scare me away,” Tim told you. He said it so nonchalantly.

“You have-?”

“Yes, now it’s your turn.”

You stood dumbfounded. Another fast breeze blew past the two of you, your hair flying in the wind. “Well I just, um, I feel like i’m being watched. All the time,” You explain slowly. Tim tried to ignite your cigarette again, the lighter very clearly out of fluid. “Considering you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, I can believe that,” Tim chuckled. He took another large inhale of his cigarette, the foul stench flooding your nostrils. You felt like a ball of warmth, your mouth running dry. “You don’t mean that,” You say quietly. Tim raised an eyebrow, tossing the empty lighter aside. “I’m a lot of things, but i’m not a liar,” He whispered. Tim easily towered over you, your eyes meeting his, cigarette dangling from your lips.

Tim’s large hand guided you to hold your cigarette in between your index and middle finger, the orange end still on the edge of your lips. Quietly he moved closer to you, the two of you watching as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours. With each passing second you grew more flustered, his face an inch away from yours. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, Tim made you feel an indescribable warmth. The kind that blossomed from inside of your chest and made your heart throb. “Inhale for me,” Tim murmured. You did as instructed, ignoring the feeling of flames engulfing your throat. You wanted to stay this close to him forever.

You felt the tobacco swirl around your lungs, your gaze landing on Tim’s. You removed the cigarette from your lips, allowing the wind to guide the smoke out of your mouth. “Feel better?” Tim asked. You began to cough, giving him a thumbs up as you looked away from him. Tim grinned as you bent over slightly, trying to clear your lungs and inhale oxygen. As his large hand patted your back you realized that you’d willingly throw yourself into his warm flames. No matter how much they threatened to burn you.

—> next chapter

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brucewaynehater101 · 7 months ago

Note

I see Duke vibe checking and it’s sorta like with a dog, Duke likes everyone, so if he doesn’t like you, the bats are gonna believe him.

person chilling with the Wayne kids. Duke later “I don’t know, I don’t really like them? Something’s off” and the rest of the bats put immediate suspicion on the person.

I do like the idea of Duke, who's typically friendly, declaring someone failed the vibe check. The fact this comes from Duke causes the Bats to instantly be wary. This could especially be the case if the person passed other Bats vibes check.

For the others, people failing their vibe checks makes sense.

Damian, Jason, and Bruce typically fall on a "distrust before trust" wavelength. Damian and Jason fall on threats while Bruce, in civilian identity, will resort to annoying them with Brucie or weaseling info out of them. Batman threatens.

Cass can usually sus out intent.

Babs runs a very very through background check on people before trusting them (she has varying levels of checks based on what she needs to trust them for).

Dick seems very friendly, but his trust is hard to actually earn. The person usually doesn't know they aren't trusted until they actually are trusted.

Steph employs a series of checks for a person (questions, behaviors, opinions, etc.) to see if they pass the vibes.

Tim, if he were by himself, would combine Babs and Steph's approach. When he's with the others (and trusts their work), he typically has a good feel for betrayal. It's in his bones.

Duke doesn't have that built in suspicion the others do. He's still a bit new to the scene (after two years of being a vigilante, one settles into the paranoia and rapidly changing circumstances). So Duke, who shouldn't have a sus meter, pinging some guy as sus is concerning. Even more so if the guy passed all other checks. In that case, what does Duke, an outgoing and nice person, see in the guy that passed all other vibe checks?

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #barbara gordon #steph brown #cass wayne #duke thomas

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dearmantis · 1 year ago

Text

Golden Crown of Sorrow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: After sending dozens of letters begging your father to help you flee from your betrothed and his family, someone finally comes to save you

Warnings: domestic abuse, neglectful/abusive parents, sexism/violence against women, mentions of suicide, murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of getting attacked by an animal (if you get bitten by something, even a human, get checked by a medical professional), Fjerda slander, mention of pregnancy

Word Count: 4k words

Authors Note: This was originally part of A little loss of Innocence but it works way better as it's own one shot. Also, please pay attention to the warnings. English is not my native language and I didn't edit this

"Did my father send you?" You ask as you settle in the carriage, voice timid and quiet in a way that is so unlike the version of you that he knows that it throws him off for a second.

You haven't spoken at all during the ride here, contempt in burying your fingers in the mane of his horse or sleeping as he led it away from the house of the family you were promised to, and starring at the forest or the small fires he lit to cook food during the breaks.

His gaze wanders over you, taking in the way your shoulders are pulled together to make you appear smaller, the small, almost invisible cut on your left cheek, the way you keep wincing when the carriage shakes a bit, and how your eyes keep jumping around, gaze always flickering between the window and the position of his hands.

He can't lie to you, he realises. You're suspicious and filled to the brim with fear and paranoia. Whatever happened in Fjerda has shaken you to the core and thrown you right into survival mode. If he lies to you and you find out, you will never trust him with anything ever again.

Because even if you recover from this, you will always remember the fact that he lied to you when you were in your most vulnerable state. And Aleksander needs the trust of the royal family, as much as he might despise that fact.

"No"

You bite your lip harshly, teeth digging into the chapped, dry flesh before you nod, eyes finding his. The suspicion in them is stronger now, accompanied by a bit of confusion.

"Then why did you come? What's in it for you?"

Aleksander frowns. "Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why are you saving me? Why did you decide to come here instead of letting me die in Djerholm? My own family was ready to watch me perish there after all."

There is no anger in your voice, no sadness, nothing. Just this monotone, quiet, submissive voice that doesn't fit someone born into the status of royalty.

But your gaze is scrutinizing, clarifying that every question you ask is a test designed to make him trip in hopes of revealing his true motivations. You're expecting him to lie to you. In the back of your mind you're probably already planning how to weasel the truth out of him, so all he can really do to take control over the situation and reassure you into trusting him is to reveal the truth and in turn his playing cards for this specific game.

You want him to lie, and he has never enjoyed doing what the royal family wants.

"Glory"

Your surprise is like a shooting star: Visible for a singular heartbeat, then gone forever.

"Glory?" Your eyes look back down to your knees, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress while the volume of your voice drops into a whisper. "You won't achieve glory like this. You will most likely be punished for saving me, and I'll be sent back."

Your behaviour is starting to bother him. It was a welcome change when he first got you out and traveled through Fjerda with you on the saddle in front of him, but now all he wants to do is shake you until the words start falling out of your mouth.

He thought you were just quiet because you were scared of being caught, but evidently, nothing has changed for you after he led you across the border to Ravka.

Maybe it would've been better to lie? To tell you that he was some kind of chivalrous knight in shining armour who had come to Fjerda out of the goodness of his own heart to save his struggling princess?

"I doubt that you'll be send back, your highness," he responds carefully. He never thought about the fact that your family might be upset about him saving you. They did give you away after all, and he simply acted on the assumption that they love you and want you to be safe, like all parents should. He should know by now that many parents don't love their children.

"I hope you're right," you mumble, averting your gaze to look at the scenery of Ravka rushing past the window, "For the sake of both of us."

You sink back into silence after that, and the letter still stuck in a pocket of his kefta is suddenly heavy as a bag of bricks. It's a short one, written on a scrap of paper that you must've somehow smuggled out of the house of your betrothed. It had ended up in his mail one day, either through an accident or through a servant who couldn't continue to watch the king ignore your cries for help.

Please father. I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I dream of taking a knife to my throat every day. I'm not strong enough for this.

The next time you speak, you're less than ten minutes away from the town where he planned to take a break, your quiet voice piercing through the air like an arrow.

"Do you have to bring me to my father?"

Aleksander looks up from the documents he had been reading, a deep frown on his face. "Where else would I bring you, your highness?"

You mirror his facial expression. "You could hide me at the Little Palace."

"No, I can't. What if someone catches you?"

"Nobody would catch me, I promise. I would be so quiet, I would never leave my rooms I would-"

"No. End of the discussion, or I'll tell the coachman to turn around and bring you back to your betrothed."

His voice is sharp and cold, the stress from the last few days finally boiling over, and you flinch back from him so harshly that your head hits the wood behind you. Fear burns like a small fire in your gaze, your frame curling in on itself even further.

You don't talk at all for two days straight after that. The only time he hears your voice is when you scream and cry at night, probably due to nightmares.

Looking back, he probably overreacted a bit.

The next time you talk, it's only because he asks you a question.

You're both sitting in a tavern, quietly eating together, and while your gaze keeps jumping from the three other people around you to the door and the windows, his is glued to you.

He has collected a thousand questions on his tongue in the last few days, and his mind works overtime trying to discern the differences between you now and you before all of this. Before the betrothal, before your travels to Fjerda.

"What exactly happened to you in Fjerda?"

Your attention shifts to him, brows furrowed.

"The same thing that always happens when a woman of Ravka gets betrothed to a man of Fjerda."

In the back of his mind, he remembers the death of Princess Fruzsina. How her brother, crown prince Konstantin, didn't let anyone see her or her newborn daughters corpse when they were transported back to Ravka, not even her own parents.

"Nobody needs to see this. It's better to remember her the way she was when she was still here."

He feels acid rising in his throat.

You talk again a few hours later, attention flickering from the window of the carriage to him and back a few times before you finally manage to find your voice again.

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You ask carefully.

Aleksander looks up from the book he has been reading, a small spark of annoyance visible in his eyes at the interruption.

He regrets it as soon as he sees you flinch again, his mind immediately travelling back to that young woman completely wrapped in shroud, her small babe right next to her. Just bundles of linen, not a milimetre of skin visible.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You repeat, "Or one of your ancestors at least. Wouldn't that make sense? Tie you and the Darkling line to the royal family through marriage and kids, force allegiance that way?"

Closing the book slowly, he lets your words roll over in his head.

"The Darklings have been loyal to the Royal Family since the Black Heretic died."

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to tie the families together forever? It would also help to smooth over past animosities, I think. Suddenly, the king isn't just a stranger. He's the current Darklings father in law or uncle. And the Darkling is no longer a random stranger to the Princes and Princesses either. He's their cousin."

The idea is simple and logical, he has to give you that, but he has also spent the last two centuries making sure he wouldn't be betrothed to anyone. It kind of ruins his whole "faking his death and pretending to be his own son" ruse, after all. But he can't explain that to you, can he?

"No ravkan king would ever betroth their child to a Grisha, your Highness. Not when all over the country highborn children are still drowned in lakes and bathtubs as soon as they show their abilities." The words come out harsher than originally planned, but he doesn't correct himself. "Why are you thinking about this? You've never shown interest in Grisha, me, or the politics surrounding us."

He has to wait almost thirty minutes for an answer to that question. He's gone back to reading, carefully annotating his thoughts and questions, when your voice rings through the carriage once more, almost getting swallowed by the noise of the horses outside.

"At night, when I couldn't sleep, I often asked myself if I had other options. If I could've gotten betrothed to someone else. One of the only men I could think of that were still eligible is... you. And as soon as I realised that, I also noticed that the Darklings have never married someone highborn."

There's something else, he can tell by the way you speak, slow and careful like you're holding something back, but before he can even think to push you the carriage shakes and your face contorts into a pained grimace.

He doesn't have to see the skin hidden by your clothes to know that you're probably covered in bruises and cuts, maybe even some animal bite marks.

You should rest, and he can still interrogate you later, so he slowly nods and returns to his book, his eyes gliding over the paper without absorbing a single word. His mind stays with you.

You start having an easier time moving and walking a week after escaping your betrothed and his family, but you're still visibly keyed up and stressed. Everything scares you, everything wakes your suspicion, everything worries you.

He hears you mutter under your breath sometimes, especially during the late hours of the night and the hours before sunrise, convinced that he must be asleep. He can never quite understand what you're saying, only catching a few words at a time when it happens. You whisper about wolves following your scent, of someone sending you back into the north, of shoving a knife into your neck, deep enough that not even a well trained healer would be able to save you in time.

Your lack of sleep worries him as well. The only times he has seen you truly sleep well were at the beginning of your travels. You almost slept for two days straight, sitting in front of him on his horse, his arms keeping you stable in the saddle, only waking up after he made camp for the night and forced you to drink and eat. Now, the only sleep you get is through small involuntary naps in the carriage, when the exhaustion claims you like it did in those first two days.

The nightmares that wake you as soon as you fall asleep don't help either.

You're petting and brushing the horses while the other Grisha accompanying you fill the water bottles at a nearby river, your only guard being the General himself sitting a few metres away, eyes on the forest surrounding you.

"I was surprised how much I missed you," you say after a while, your attention still fully on the beautiful horses in front of you, carefully brushing the dust and dirt out of their fur in hopes of making them a bit more comfortable, "I missed my brothers, of course, and my friends and servants as well. I missed the gardens of the Grand Palace, the beauty of Os Alta, my own bed. I missed being home and not being scared for my life. But I also missed you a lot more than I thought I would."

You don't look at him, your voice light as if you were talking about the weather.

"I kept thinking about how much time I spend bothering you, how much my own parents brainwashed me into disliking you, and how much you must've suffered because of that. I was a brat before I was sent north, I know that now, and I want to apologize for my behaviour. I can't thank you enough for coming to save me despite everything."

Aleksander is speechless for longer than he would like to admit, starring at you with visible shock on his face. It takes him a while to shake it off, to find the right words to respond to you.

"You were a child for most of it, Your Highness. It would be stupid of me to hold a grudge because of that."

He has held grudges because of less, but you don't need to know that. You're the first member of the Royal Family to actually apologize to him. Sure, you're probably only doing it because he saved you from your betrothed, but he can tell that you genuinely feel bad.

"It wouldn't be. I was a terror as a child and grew up to be a brat."

The Darkling frowns weakly, watching you carefully as you move onto the second horse to brush it.

"I was a brat, and stupid too. I heard the story of Princess Fruzsina a thousand times. I even dug through the archive to read the reports from the Healers. I know everything they did to her. I'm probably the only person alive that actually still knows, since no one ever bothers to read through those documents... and I went north anyway. I betrayed her memory. She begged in her last letter before she was murdered that they could never send another ravkan girl north, and I went anyway."

He shakes his head, responding to your words before he even realises that he opened his mouth. "You did what your parents wanted from you. They were the ones suggesting the betrothal, and they encouraged you to go through with it. If anyone betrayed Fruzsinas' memory, it's them, just like they betrayed you when they suggested the betrothal without educating you on the sensitive political climate in Fjerda and their exact traditions and rules."

"I'm a woman grown, General, and I did research on Fruzsinas murder on my own. I should've done the same with the treatment of women in Fjerda instead of blindly believing my mother when she assured me that the men in the north don't hit their wives anymore. That they wouldn't dare to hurt a girl from a royal family. I'm a stupid little girl, nothing more."

"You believed that your parents would keep you safe instead of selling your life away for a political alliance. You assumed that your family would do what they're supposed to do. That's not a sin, your highness."

"Oh, but it is!" You bite back, eyes finally meeting his. There's anger and hate flickering in your irises, but he knows it's not directed towards him. It's directed towards yourself. A weapon pointed at your own heart and soul instead of his head. "I'm old enough to think for myself, to make my own decisions. People expect it of me, but instead of using my head I follow my mother and father around and copy them in everything, playing the obedient little princess instead of developing a personality and beliefs of my own. It took a man beating me half to death in front of his men to change that, to free me of the shackles I put onto my own wrists and ankles."

Your voice is sharper than a knife, colder than the permafrost up north, and your breathing is getting harsher. Gone is the sumbissive, quiet thing he pulled out of that house in the middle of the night. "I did everything to apease my parents, to be the perfect princess in their eyes, in everyones eyes. I loved what they loved, hated what they hated, and did what they did. And for what? To be sold off like an animal to a slaughterhouse?"

A scoff escapes your lips, an unladylike sound that you would've never let yourself make before. He guesses you stopped caring. There are many unladylike noises that you've probably made while laying in your own blood, cowering from the man who was supposed to protect and cherish you.

"That's what I meant when I said that they will send me back. I had the help of two of the servant girls. They smuggled letters out for me and sent them off to my parents, but no answer ever came. The only reason why I got out is because you somehow knew that something was wrong and wrongfully assumed it was an opportunity for you to gain glory."

He doesn't mention that he knew of your predicament because one of your letters ended up with him on accident, nor does he disrupt you for any other reasons. This is the most you've spoken since he dragged you out of that forsaken house in Djelholm and smuggled you out of the city. It would be insane to cut you off now and risk never hearing of your thoughts and opinions ever again.

"It's ridiculous. Even if a miracle happens and I don't get sent back immediately, they will simply betroth me to someone else from Fjerda, like that's somehow going to fix the years of tension between our countries. I will never be safe again. I will never be allowed to stay here. I will never be free the way I was before all this. I didn't even realise how privileged I was."

There is a way to save you from that fate. Several, actually, but one of them would play right into his hands if he simply played his cards right.

Aleksander suggests it two days before they reach Os Alta while they sit in the carriage.

He doesn't do anything special, doesn't prepare anything or bothers to give a speech. It would be filled with lies and manipulation anyways, and you would probably be able to tell. He hasn't officially accepted your apology for your past behaviours, after all. He just says what he wants you to do, nothing more.

"Marry me."

Your head whips up, attention dragged away from the book you had been reading.

"What?"

He smiles. "Marry me."

The carriage is currently driving through a town, the noise of children playing and people talking filling the silence between you two.

"Why?" You finally ask, suspicion barely hidden in your body language.

He has many reasons to make a suggestion like this, of course. Tying himself to someone, an otkazat'sya no less, is incredibly risky for him, after all. It needs to be thought through carefully, which he has.

Aleksander feels like he has done nothing else other than think since your rescue.

You're popular with the people, ravkas beautiful rose, kind and sweet and obedient. If the commoners found out what happened to you, what your parents knowingly put you through with this betrothal, they would riot in the streets. It would only get worse if they found out that they sent you away from your lover.

The story basically writes itself. It would be easy to plant rumours amongst the merchants and peasants, make them believe that you were in love with him and planned to run off with him, knowing that the king and queen would never allow for your love to flourish. That your parents found out and sent you away for a betrothal to a harsh and violent man as a punishment. That he saved you because he loved you so deeply, marrying you on the road back to the Grand Palace in a small chapel, hoping that the marriage will tie your souls together forever even if he gets killed for disobeying the wishes of the king and queen.

If he does it right he can claim that your father attacked you and that he killed him and the rest of the royal family to defend you, or that Fjerdans assassinated the royal family in revenge for the failed betrothal and that Aleksander somehow managed to save you, placing you on the throne, him right next to you.

He would no longer be General, then, but king consort. Your reputation should be high enough with the otkazat'sya to balance the hatred they have for him out as well. The rose of ravka would never fall for an evil man, after all.

Of course, this plan could backfire horribly. What if you hate him after he slaughters your family? What if you don't want to be queen? What if one of your relatives manages to kill you before he can kill them? He would have to claim the throne through right of conquest, and the people would hate him for it, would turn your family into martyrs and put his Grisha at even more risk.

But the risks might be worth it. He just has to be smart.

And he'd be saving you from an awful marriage. He could be a god husband to you. He could make you happy.

Probably.

Of course, he can't confess these things to you. The best way to force you to participate in his plans is if you don't know that he's planning anything at all.

"They can't send you back if you're married. You'll be mine. I'd be able to hide you away in the Little Palace, just like you wanted."

You make a face, clearly not convinced.

"They'll just order a priest to annul it or kill you to make me a widow and renew the betrothal," you warn.

"Your highness, as much as I respect the swordsmanship of the guards, I sincerely doubt that they would be able to kill me. Besides, I don't think that they would be able to betroth you to a fjerdan man after we consummate the marriage."

The book you've been reading drops to the floor of the carriage with a quiet thump, but you don't even notice that it has left your grasp, your full, undivided attention on him.

You're probably trying to discern if he's serious, and if you should slap him for even suggesting something like this.

"There's a chapel in this town, and a small tavern right next to it," he murmurs after a while, offering his hand to you, "It wouldn't be like the royal wedding you probably dreamed of, but you would be safe. I swear it. I protect what is mine."

He watches you swallow, traces the movement with his gaze, gleeful at the visible effect his proposal has on you. He can see the temptation in your eyes, the battle you're fighting in your head.

Are you willing to go behind your parents' backs to marry him? Are you willing to become the Darklings wife, to carry his children?

You grab his hand slowly, the look in your eyes vulnerable.

His smile widens when his fingers wrap around yours, his hand moving to knock against the wood of the carriage to get it to stop.

#aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #darkling x reader #the darkling x reader

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telvess · 1 year ago

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Record of Ragnarok, Hades x Persephone!Reader

Sorry for delay, but my writer's block came back.

*SWF*

— Mother, are you sure it’s wise for me to accompany you? — you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your mother chose a modest toga for you that completely covered your shoulders and neckline and was long enough that nobody could even see your toes — I can wait for you here. Your eyes met your mother's in the reflection of the mirror. Her grim visage was present - cold, distant, severe, just like winter. So different from the mendacious one that’s she usually portrayed. — You’re safest by my side — her voice reminded you of the sound of a branch breaking. Demeter wore a simple black robe, her brown hair was braided. She got walked up to you, stood right behind you and watched your reflection in the mirror with cold eyes. The cold she emanated sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. — Stay within my arm's reach, or at worst within my sight — she instructed — Come now, child — she took your hand and led you towards the doors.

You just needed to pass the bifröst and your mother would never find you again. The only way to achieve this was to make your disappearance seem like an accident. That would take away any suspicions and give just enough time to escape. After Gigantomachy, the Greek gods had much to celebrate and much more to discuss. Even if your mother didn’t take part in the war, she still was excepted at this huge event. Such an opportunity for you may never come again. But before, you had to pretend to be an obedient daughter who was brainwashed by your mother to the point where you couldn’t imagine life without her. So you did what she said - you stayed by her side throughout the entire event, you didn't participate in any conversations, you didn't pay attention to anything - and you looked as uncomfortable as you could in the presence of strangers. On the last day of the event, Demeter seemed contented, even in her grumpy mood. That’s why when Hera asked for her, she didn't look at you once. — Stay here — she commanded. You watched her approach Hera surrounded by nymphs. They exchanged greetings and then your mother checked you out for the first time. Shortly thereafter, it happened a second time. She lasted over a minute without paranoia taking over. You sat still like a sculpture. Only your heart was betraying you, but Demeter couldn’t hear it. She checked you out a third time, and then fourth almost immediately after. Now, you ordered yourself and with wildly beating heart, you joined the passing group. You tried to move as fast as you could, but your long toga prevented you from doing so. You lifted up your dress, hearing in mind your mother sucking air through his teeth at that shameless act. You were passing other gods and goddesses, nymphs and elves. With a few exceptions, you didn’t recognize anyone. You gritted your teeth, feeling anger rising in your chest. You were so old yet you didn’t even know people in your on pantheon. That conclusion gave you even more motivation to speed up. The others gave you looks of surprise or annoyance, but you were too focused on finding a way out to care. Once you were outside, the fresh air cooled you down. You took a deep breath and smiled. The prospect of freedom together with a thrill provided emotions you had never experienced before. The dark sky was full of stars. Everyone was inside at that moment, so the path to the carriage was clear, but just in case, you walked hidden in the shadows so that no one could see you from the balconies. Each carriage was specially marked, every god had different preferences. Once you spotted the right one, you sneaked right under the coachman's nose and hid in the storage, where they kept luggage case. It was big enough for you to fit, full of someone’s clothes. Now it was time for the hardest part: waiting. Your mother was probably looking for you and pulling her hair out at this point. You knew how cunning she was - you took after her - and you couldn’t help but let your worries grow. What if you never actually outwitted her? What if she knew about your little plan all along? What if she suspected something and just let you have a this luttle illusion of freedom, just to rip this apart a few minutes later?

You didn't know how long you had been hiding at that point. It felt like it lasted for about an hour as your numb body slowly began to ache from lying in the uncomfortable position. You heard voices from time to time, and they grew louder over time as more and more gods began to leave the event for their palaces. Did your mother keep your disappearance a secret? You expected much bigger fuss, and hoped that her uncontrollable rage would get her into trouble… The sigh escaped your lips as the carriage shook and moved. Was this really happening? You didn’t want to jinx it, but the fire of happiness lit in your chest. Please, don’t stop, please, don’t stop… They listened.

You peeked through the crack in your chest from time to time. It was stupid of you, but you couldn't help but see Valhalla getting smaller and smaller by every second. Leaving it behind was one of the biggest steps you had ever taken and it felt great. But the carriage was moving in such slow pace that you had to fight with yourself to not jump out of your hiding place. First you had to pass the bifröst and enter the Underworld in the carriage, then… worry about what to do with your freedom and how not to die on the first day of your life - you repeated to yourself.

The Underworld wasn’t as dark as you expected. At least not where you came from. The sky was grey and brought gloomy atmosphere, that was only enhanced by the landscape of bare rock mountains, but it was less scary and depressing than in your mother’s stories. And you haven't heard or seen any demons yet. The carriage was travelling on a bumpy road, causing chest with you inside to constantly shake. You tried your best to ignore it, but as the minutes passed, your patience slowly wore thin. One time - when the carriage ran over something exceptionally big - and you hit your head on the cover of the chest, you decided that you had had enough and you opened chest with too much force. The lifted hinged lid hit the back of the carriage too hard, the rumble seeming especially loud in the quiet place you were in. You cursed your stupidity and held your breath, hoping the sound remained unnoticed. — Stop the carriage! — you heard a stern voice. You groaned. What should you do now?! For lack of a better option, you decided to hide in the box again. With your heart beating madly, you listened from the inside. You heard the door open, then barely audible footsteps and… silence. You bit your lip, feeling building sensation in your stomach. You didn’t see or hear anything, but your mind told you that someone was right next to your hideout. — You’re waiting for me to leave, aren’t you? — you said loudly. — Yes. That was short and brutal for some reason. Suddenly all your excitement and thrill of unknown disappeared, replaced by embarrassment. At that moment you felt so small, hidden in someone’s chest like a common thief. You bit your lip and stood up, without looking up. But your numb body didn’t exactly listen to you, so you lost your balance and fell with the massive chest you were hidden in. You landed on the ground, among the rocks and dirt.

— Ouch… Speaking of embarrassment… Your head was right on someone’s shoes. To your surprise it wasn’t sandals that Greek gods usually wear, but a pair of leather shoes filled with square patterns. Quite extravagant in your mother’s opinion. You raised your head and saw a very formal outfit; long white jeans, a blazer with patches decorated on the left and right side and a collar that spans all the way to his upper chest. Above were cold, almost indifferent purple eyes assessing you. You had never seen Hades before and had no particular idea of him, but you had to admit: he was a very handsome man, with his noble features, grey hair and a leaf-like pattern tattooed above his left eye. Not to mention his strong aura that floated around and took your breath away. — Oh, hi… — you mumbled with a soft smile, trying to remain nonchalant. Hades didn’t flinch. — Hi — he replied, a note of moderate interest in his tone — You know, if you needed a ride, you could’ve just asked. You smiled and slowly stood up. You couldn’t stand his spiral eyes, so you focused on your toga instead. The fabric was no longer white, and brushing off the dirt didn't make much of a difference. — Thank you, but I wanted to keep a low-profile. When you looked at him again, this time, face to face, you noticed in his eyes sparks of understanding. Your face remained the same, but inside you were trying to fight the feeling of anxiety. He recognized you. — You’re the one that was missing… — said Hades — The girl. You shrugged. — So my mother made a mess after all… — She thinks something happened to you — Hades’ words didn’t match his tone. He seemed intrigued, his eyes looking at you curiously. — I had to make it look like an accident, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to escape — even if he didn’t asked, you still felt obligated to explain yourself — You probably won’t keep silent if I ask you to, right? — I'll probably only mention you if someone asks first. — Oh, I like that! It was probably just your imagination, but Hades’ lips twitched slightly. You smiled yourself. He showed no signs of wanting to betray you, which made the anxious flew away and now it was time to get a better look around. And so you did. The world around you was as ugly as through crack in the chest. The sky as grey and landscape as unfriendly. You could look around, no matter what direction and still see everything, without somebody panting into your neck felt. It was just amazing. You took a very deep breath and winced at the smell of sulphur. — Helheim isn’t friendly place for a lady, especially this young — you heard. You looked over your shoulder at Hades, who was still standing in his previous spot.

— I can take care of myself — you answered, confidently. — I have no doubts — he said, but you were sure it was out of politeness. You knew he found you naive for thinking you had a chance against the demons, but you didn't care. You could be as dangerous as dust to these creatures, and yet you refused to turn back. — May I ask why? You met Hades’ eyes again. — Why what? — Why Helheim? — No one would have expected such a choice. Especially not my mother. At least that’s what you were hoping for. — Demons aren’t friendly and this place is full of them — Hades tried to reason with you again, but it gave opposite effect. You frowned. — Anywhere is better than my mother's prison — you said upset — At least I’ll die seeing the sky. For the first time, Hades' face showed signs of surprise. Only for a moment, but apparently he didn't expect to awaken your anger. He smiled at you as if he was contented with the answer, then turned to the carriage doors. — To the carriage — he said, firmly, stopping right in front of it. Maybe you were very naive after all because you so quickly assumed that he was good? — I’m not going back there — you crossed your arms. — You aren’t going on your own either — you were informed with calmness that made something snapped inside you. — Said who? You were ready to fight if necessary, even against someone as powerful as Hades. — Me, the king of the Underworld — Hades looked at you with such confidence that you realized very quickly how slim your chances were against him. After all he was the one who stopped Titans all by himself… You didn’t move a bit, you just watched him carefully and waited. Hades sighed. — Such a troublesome young lady — he mumbled, more to himself than to you — We’re heading to my palace. You can stay there for a while until you figure out what to do next. You blinked few times a little surprised. Oh? — Why do you care? I’m not your problem. Hades smiled again. — You remind me of someone. — Who? — Get in the carriage — he ordered again, but the sight of your still sceptical expression irritated him greatly — Or I swear, make me repeat myself one more time and I’ll use methods that your mother would kill me for. You burst into laughter, but Hades didn’t share your joy, so you fell silent. You felt like he wasn't joking and he actually wanted to use his strength, but for some reason, part of you, wanted him to do so… how strange that was… — Fine… — you gave up and finally moved. Hades opened the door for you. The inside of the carriage was definitely much nicer than the inside of the chest. You sat down in the soft, red seat on the driver’s side. Hades gave his servant some instructions and joined you soon after. You two saw in silence and just stared at each other. Once the carriage moved, you couldn’t take it anymore and shouted: — Why are you helping me? You must know my mother! Despite your outburst, Hades remained calm. He reached for the glass of wine on the small windowsill and drank some before answering.

— I do know Demeter. You rolled your eyes. — Then why? — you kept demanding. — Because I like the sound of your confidence. You opened your mouth, then closed it again. The confusion must have shown on your face because Hades chuckled over his glass. There was something about him that was just… very cute. You felt annoying warmth rising to your cheeks. How embarrassing… You looked away, pretending to suddenly be interested in the mountainous landscape outside the window. — You’re strange man — you muttered. — How so? — If you really know my mother, you know what she is capable of. Hades didn’t seem worried. In fact, he made himself more comfortable in his seat and crossed his legs. — Your dark-robed mother was a friend of my grandmother, who declared war to us not so long ago. I do know her more than you think. Besides, her own daughter chose death in Helheim over her company. That alone speaks for itself. — Hard to argue — you admitted — You know… — a gentleman would offer me a glass… — you pointed to the open wine. Hades smiled at you and granted your wish without a word. — Have you been drinking before? — he asked, observing how you smelt wine and took a small sip. You frowned at the strange taste and shook your head, which made Hades laugh. He raised his glass to make a toast — For the many first times then. You smiled back and drank it all in one go.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror hades #snv hades #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader #udj

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aloneinthehellfire · 4 months ago

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Chapter Eight: Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of death, father issues (like, severe), horror elements, blood, angst central.

[A/N: Good news!! I have returned with a new chapter!! Bad news... you're not gonna like it...]

Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls

“Which one is it?!”

“Do we know if she likes Kate Bush?!”

“Guys, she’s getting worse!”

A cacophony of panic flooded the Winnebago, rushed footsteps and heavy breathing echoing through Robin’s mind as she stands with her hands on your shoulders, tears streaming down her face. She convinced herself holding onto you would stop you floating to the ceiling. She didn’t want to be stood here long enough to find out.

“I’m telling you, her favourite songs won’t be here!” Eddie practically screams at them. They all stop their chaotic rampage of the stolen vehicle, snapping their heads to him.

“Check her bag.” Robin’s hoarse voice cut through the silence, eyes unwavering from where yours were screwed shut, shifting left to right beneath your eyelids.

Steve is the one to swipe your bag tucked into the corner of the table seat, rooting through it with such haste, items clattered to the floor without care. His eyes light up in surprise when he pulls out a familiar object. You had your own Walkman.

“Fuck me, that’s lucky.” Dustin breathes out, and Steve frowns at it. Luck. Yeah, right.

He checks the tape deck, scribbled lettering of ‘stand by me’ on the white space and he runs back over to Robin, carefully slipping the headphones over your ears and pressing play.

A faint melody is muffled against your ears as they all stand there, waiting. Steve’s hand finds its way onto Robin’s shoulder, observing that concerning look on her face. He had expected her usual look of horror, an unfortunate expression Steve has seen too many times. This one was different, however.

This one was guilt.

July 3rd, 1985: The Hospital Incident

The white flickering lights were alighting every nerve, stuttering beams raising three individual heart rates into panic and anxiety.

It was no mystery why you were acting this way when even your surroundings eluded paranoia.

“I shouldn’t be here.” You keep muttering, biting your lip. “I should find her. I- I haven’t heard from her in days.”

Nancy and Jonathan were leading you through the hospital, dragging you along their latest quest. You supposed it wasn’t their fault; you had told them you were willing to help. But you haven’t seen Heather, or even heard from her. That was all you could think about.

“I went to the pool and they said she hasn’t shown up in a while.” You continue, scrunching the ends of your cardigan into your fists. “That’s bad, right? Maybe I should check her house. I’m sorry, I can’t- I need to-”

“We don’t have time right now.” Nancy insisted, but you weren’t really listening, turning back with only the thought of your girlfriend. Their little journalist project would have to wait.

“I’ll be back to help once I-”

“She’s not there.” Jonathan says and the mood shifted. You turn to look at him, his wide eyes implying a guilty nature. Nancy was frozen to the spot, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, walking back to them. “Did you go to her house? Why… why were you there?”

“I was investigating Holloway.” Nancy says hurriedly, “I- We wanted to see where he was.”

You could tell when Nancy Wheeler was lying. She always forced eye contact, her face unusually stoic as to hide the truth. Maybe would find Nancy’s technique in deceit flawless and somewhat inspiring. You always thought she was a terrible liar.

“Her dad is missing too?” You frown, looking between them with nothing but suspicion. They were keeping something from you. “Well now I’m definitely going back.”

You turn around again and Nancy leaps forward.

“Wait!”

“No, Nance.” You snap, talking over your shoulder. “Something is seriously wrong and I can’t do anything until I know she’s safe. Her dad is missing, her mom probably is too, and I haven’t seen her in days, what if-”

“She’s gone!”

Nancy suddenly says and you stop, meeting Jonathan’s startled eyes.

“...What?”

“I-” Nancy can’t bear to look at you, sharing a guilty look with her boyfriend. “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“What does that mean?” You shake your head, stepping away from them. But you had already been through the scenario in your mind. And, even worse, you expected this ending. You just couldn’t force yourself to believe it. “Why were you at her house? Why? Nancy!”

“Y/n…” Her forlorn expression spoke louder than any of her mistrusted words could.

“I told you, guys.” You say, blinking against foggy vision as tears started spilling down your cheeks. “I told you something was wrong, and you said I was being paranoid. That I was getting emotional.”

“We didn’t-” Nancy shakes her head, biting her lip. Whatever she had to say, it was useless.

“I can’t believe you.” You place your hand over your mouth, muffling your sobs.

“We could be wrong.” Jonathan interjects, moving closer to you. You take a step back, ignoring the hurt on his face. You and Jonathan may have been friends since you were kids, but that gave him no right to lie to you.

“Look, Y/n, we just need to figure out what’s happening.” Nancy nods almost pleadingly, holding out her hands in surrender. “If we do, we can help Heather. I’m sure- we just need to talk to Mrs Driscoll-”

“I don’t care about Mrs Driscoll!” You almost scream at her. Your unusually steady hands wipe away the tears on your cheeks, taking a deep breath. “Go ahead, Nancy. Finish your article. That’s all you seem to care about anyway.”

“That’s not fair.” She says, but Jonathan places a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

“I can’t be here.” You finally whisper. The words felt like a scream, however, as you turn away and start marching back down the hall.

Any sadness you had was shifting into anger. It coursed through you like it powered your every nerve, balling your hands into fists, eyes red and hot withstanding the tears you could no longer pity yourself with.

The last time you saw Heather, she had asked you to meet her after work. Three days ago, you were saying ‘see you later’ as she drove herself away from your house and to the community pool, dressed in a swimsuit and shorts that would always earn her a light-hearted tease about a jazzercise cosplay. Three days ago, you left a voicemail with her manager, cancelling your plans.

You had bumped into Jonathan at the Post, one of the only days your shift schedules aligned in the week. He told you about Nancy’s new journalist endeavour, his scepticism. You admired her determination to be treated fairly in this place, lord knows you’ve been trying for respect for some time too. And then, soon enough, Nancy begged you for help, claiming it was your last chance to be taken seriously as a reporter. Your heart wasn’t even in it, but you said yes. You left a message at the pool, and you followed the couple to Driscoll’s, not even sparing another thought to the girl at the pool.

Now you’re walking back through the hospital knowing that if you had just declined Nancy’s offer, if you had just stuck with your plans and met Heather, would you have saved her?

No, you think to yourself, shaking your head, she can’t be dead. She isn’t dead.

But where would you even start? Maybe Hopper could-

A shadow cuts in front of the doors down the hallway you’ve just entered. You’d seen enough nurses and doctors wandering around, ready to ignore it. But the figure just stood there, blocking the exit.

You squint at the person, slowing your footsteps. You couldn’t tell by the busted lightbulb above their head, dimming their features into the shadow. Your arms were littered with goosebumps, gut twisting. You should turn around.

“Y/N!”

Nancy’s scream echoes through the hospital floor, hitting you with severe impact.

Something was very wrong.

The lights along the hallway start flickering, and the figure is finally cast in unsteady light. Your feet stay frozen to the ground.

“No.” You whisper as he smiles, taking slow steps towards you. He wasn’t meant to be here.

Your dad was meant to be working late at the Post.

Another cry for help had you running back the way you came, hearing the slam of a door not far from you. You skid to a stop in front of the stairs, caught in indecision. Surely they would run for the stairs. Right?

Footsteps running in from behind you set in your flight or fight, pulling open the door and darting down the staircase to the lower floor, heartbeat flooding every one of your senses.

You burst out of the door and just keep moving, not looking back in fear of seeing him following you. He hadn’t looked right, too alien to his natural demeanour, too coincidental to be here at the same time Nancy started crying out. For the second time in your life, you found yourself running away from a man meant to love and protect you unconditionally.

And when you finally found Nancy, her stammering voice talking about a plan to take care of the flayed, you realised you’d have to stop running now, and face the man that loved you with conditions, and never protected you from himself.

“Nancy…” You shake your head at her as you slowly start walking backwards down the hallway.

She barely gave you a moment to think before she was telling you her idea, her stubborn mind fixed to what she believed would work. You weren’t so sure.

“Just stay in position, Y/n.” She hisses at you from behind and you trust her, you really do. But she was foolish to think you were the right person for this.

“I can’t.” You whisper back, tears falling down your face. The lights overhead start to flicker and you grip the metal pole in your hand tighter, praying he doesn’t walk around the corner, that it was all a misunderstanding.

“Just a little longer.” She promises, her soothing voice holding more worth to you than she knows. If only you had seen her face.

Two loud footsteps echo out from around the corner and you hold your breath, waiting for the man to show himself and force every fibre of your body not to run. But it wasn’t him. It was Tom Holloway, Heather’s father, and he was smiling at you.

“Ah, Y/n.” He clicks his neck, smirking, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You shake your head. It wasn’t meant to be him. He was supposed to be dead.

“It’s such a shame no one checked to see if they finished the job.” He laughs, pulling a scalpel you hadn’t even seen protruding from his neck, shrugging when no blood comes rushing out. “Someone should really go check on that poor boy, though. Such a wuss.”

“Nancy.” You try and whisper, but you hear nothing back, only the echo of her retreating footsteps as she rushes to find her boyfriend. You understood, you really did, but you’ve never felt so scared.

“Just the two of us, now.” Tom clears his throat, walking forward with intent and you hold out the pole. “That won’t do anything.”

“Stay back.” You cry out, noticing how dark the black veins were appearing now. Was Heather like this too? “I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll trick me?” He laughs maniacally, stopping just short of you reaching the end of the hall, the corner just behind you. “Or should I say… us?”

Your eyes widen, but it’s too late. A sharp and searing pain digs into your shoulder and you scream, dropping your only weapon out of shock and jolting forward. You stumble, cradling your shoulder as you spin around on the floor, another pair of soulless eyes staring down at you. A sob leaves your lips.

“Dad?”

“Join us.”

You start scrambling away, pushing your legs out beneath you to keep yourself moving back as they stare down at you. Your shoulder was throbbing, blood trickling between your fingertips. You think about calling out for Nancy and Jonathan, but you weren’t even sure if they’d come to save you.

As you start to crumble into the corner, two pairs of soulless eyes prepared to make you one of them, your chest starts to hurt more than any wound could. Whatever friendship you had before was shattered now. With Heather gone, there wasn’t much left for you to care about in Hawkins.

In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something shining under the flickering lights. It was close, close enough to reach out and grab.

“There’s no reason to be afraid.” Tom smiles, an unnatural curve to his lips. “When you join us, it’ll feel like nothing ever happened.”

Your father smiles with him, and you raise your head.

“No thanks.”

You lunge for the metal pole and manage to grab hold, spinning onto your back and striking it upwards just as one of them pounced at you, the sharp end piercing skin and slipping directly up into their chin, splattering blood on your face.

Tom stumbles back, grabbing at his throat as black veins suddenly burst from the wound. But he wasn’t the one you caught.

“Dad?” You whisper, watching his eyes slowly droop towards you, body slumping against the ground. If you had expected some sort of humanity to return to him, you weren’t going to see it. He was gone, not an ounce of his soul left.

They both finally drop to the floor, exhaling a final breath. You pull your legs out from beneath the body, trying to prop yourself up but crashing back down when the muscles in your arm give out.

“Y/N?!”

You can hear Nancy and Jonathan calling for you, echoing footsteps approaching from further down the hall. The pain in your shoulder was excruciating now, and you were never great at dealing with pain.

You slump against the wall, closing your eyes, unknowing if you would ever want to open them again.

Everything felt normal when you opened your eyes. You were used to the pounding headache in the morning, a flicker of whatever nightmare you endured leaving a scar on your brain. It didn’t happen this time.

You tried to remember what happened. You vaguely recall seeing Robin, her smile. And then…

Everything is thrown back into focus, head darting around the room as you panic against the white lights. It looked like a hospital, the plastic sheet trailing around your bed for privacy. It looked scarily like the bed you woke up in after the flayed incident.

You try and sit up, but your arms can’t move. You try and shift your legs, nothing. It felt like you were tied down to the bed. You managed to angle your head to look down, the panic rising spectacularly.

Vines were slithering around your wrists and ankles, keeping you in place.

Struggling against their strength, you start crying out for help, lights around you flickering wildly. Your top lip still feels wet from the nosebleed. Vecna had you again, and you knew this time was different. This time, he didn’t want you to escape.

The plastic sheet surrounding your bed is suddenly pulled back, and it was like you couldn’t even breathe anymore.

“Hi, honey.” Your father says, mouth dripping black blood, veins stretching around a wound underneath his chin.

You try and ignore him, looking anywhere but where he stood and tugging at your restraints. This wasn’t real. He’s dead. He died-

“Because you killed me.” He growls. Your eyes widen. How did he-

Vecna, you tell yourself, it’s Vecna.

“You didn’t even try to save me.” He creeps closer, first curling around something you couldn’t see. “You cared more about that stupid Holloway girl than you ever did your own flesh and blood.”

A tear escapes your eye, scrunching your face in fury. You hate how much this is affecting you.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He wants this, you remind yourself, still relentlessly pulling at the vines. Vecna wants you to feel guilt, he wants you to feel like you’re responsible for his death. And he’s using your dead father to do it.

You frown, stopping your attempts of escape.

Can Vecna really win if you didn’t believe his lies?

“I’d do it all over again if it meant I could save Heather.”

He looks taken aback- Vecna looks taken aback. Like he wasn’t expecting you to be so… heartless.

“My father was an asshole, and a bitter man. He never cared about his own flesh and blood. And I’m glad he’s dead. I never wanted it to be this way, but I will never, never, let myself feel guilty over something that wasn’t my fault.”

“And what about me?”

You turn your head to the other side of the bed, a girl leant against the wall in the shadows. You didn’t need to see her. You’ve been haunted by her voice for months now.

“I couldn’t have done anything.” You say, mostly to convince yourself what everyone has been telling you for ages. It wasn’t your fault.

“You could have chosen me over your friends.” She spits bitterly, not moving from the dark corner. “They used you. You’ve known Jonathan your whole life, and he didn’t care about you. Nancy didn’t even care if she left you for dead. You were nothing but a pawn.”

“I stayed. That was my choice.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I might never forgive myself for what happened to you, but I won’t let it ruin my life.”

“But you’ll let it ruin mine?”

Your eyes fly open, shock taking your breath.

She finally steps out of the shadow, voice warped into someone else. Because she was someone else.

“You don’t even like me, do you?” Robin asks, tears running down her face but her expression was emotionless. “You want me to be Heather. You want her.”

“No.” You whisper, tugging against the vines on your wrists.

“You knew this was happening to you, and you let me fall for you.” She shakes her head, leaning over the bed so she was staring down at you from an uncomfortable distance. “And I know if you survive, you’re never going to look at me again. You just used me to feel better about your bitter life. You don’t think you should be loved. And you’re right. Your father never loved you. Your mother hated you so much she left. Your gran doesn’t even want you here.”

“Shut up!” You scream, breaking free your right hand to push her away.

She stumbles back as you claw at your other wrist.

“It was only a matter of time before you hurt her”

Everything was plunged into a dark red, the bed disappearing from beneath you and you land hard on rocky ground, coughing.

“You should have left when you had the chance, Y/n”

You try to scramble to your feet, but a flick of his hand throws you against a protruding staircase, making you cough from the impact.

You manage to grab hold of a spindle, slowly pulling yourself up. He starts to walk over to you and then abruptly stops, looking across the barren sky. At first, you don’t understand, confused with his sudden change of posture.

And then it slowly drifts in. A melody.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we’ll see

Vecna snarls, turning back to you. You look surprised, you felt surprised.

This was your favourite song blasting through a crimson nightmare. A song you held so close to you, you never told anyone about it.

Well, no one except the school counsellor...

No, I won’t be afraid

Oh, I won’t be afraid

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

The faint melody from Ben E. King starts drifting around the Winnebago, filling the silence with an unsuspecting song. One that was meant to be saving your life right now.

“Does she even like this song?” Nancy asks, her chest heaving unevenly as she stares at your catatonic state. She was panicking, and to see Nancy panic like this was rare.

“It was in her bag, she obviously put it there because she likes it.” Lucas points out, and Steve tries to ignore the pit in stomach that told it that wasn’t the case.

“Then why isn’t it working?” Nancy stresses, snapping at the boy before immediately apologising.

“Woah, Nance.” Steve puts a hand on her shoulder, “It took Max a minute to get out, okay? She’s going to be fine.”

As she opened her mouth to argue, Steve was proven right.

Nancy and Dustin are the ones to catch you, ensuring a comfortable fall in an uncomfortable circumstance. Nancy quickly wipes away her tears, smiling.

“You’re okay.” She says as you reach out for a hand to hold. “We’ve got you.”

Steve smiles at that for some reason, feeling relieved and terrified. He thought Max was his last victim, so why did he need you?

There’s a soft click of the Winnebago door behind him, quiet enough to not disturb the others from their emotional celebration. Steve wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t painfully aware of his best friend’s absence beside him.

He sneaks out and finds her stood in the field, arms wrapped around herself in comfort. When she noticed he had followed, he was surprised she didn’t say anything. Robin was rarely speechless. And so, in consideration, he decided to let a minute of silence pass.

A choked sob eventually cut through the peace.

“Robin?” He frowns, reaching out. His heart sinks when he sees the tear rolling down her cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She whispers and he pulls her into a hug.

“She’s okay. He didn’t win.”

“No, she’s not.” Robin sobs, but he only holds her tighter, letting her cry. “It’s all my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?” Steve dismisses with a soothing tone.

“Because…”

He feels her pull away, the eyes above mascara stained cheeks settling on his. Steve has known she’s been acting weirder than usual for a while now, too quiet, holding back secrets. And right now, she looked like she was going to burst.

“Robin?”

“I knew all of this was going to happen.” She whispers it like a crime. He doesn’t really understand.

“What?”

“I lied to her.” She covers her mouth, muffling the next few words. “I didn’t ask her to come here because we needed her help.”

Steve shakes his head, trying to make sense of her confession. “What- why did you bring her here?”

“I…” She takes a step back, her posture practically fighting the truth as it came out.

“Robin.” He persists.

“I found her file in Ms Kelley’s office!” She blurts, panicking at the volume of her voice. “Shit. I-” Her hands run down her face. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. Max said she was cursed and I- I panicked. I thought maybe we could buy some time, bring in a distraction...”

“You…” Steve blinks, not bothering to quieten his own words. He was too panicked now. “You brought her here because you knew Vecna would go after her.”

Her silence said everything she couldn’t.

“Oh.” He breathes. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She frowns. “I-”

“You knew?”

They both spin around to where you’re stood, a Walkman you’ve never touched before gripped in your hand. Robin’s eyes widen, shell-shocked at your presence.

“Y/n, please.” She runs over to you, grabbing your hand in hers. You don’t remove it, or push her away. You just stand and stare. “It wasn’t meant to get this far. I just- I hoped it would all be over by now. I never meant to hurt you. I was just scared and I… Y/n?”

You slowly slip your hand out of hers, staring down at it like it was the problem. Robin’s mouth parts in surprise.

Nobody spoke. You all just stood surrounded by air poisoned with lies and deceit, your betrayed eyes resting on the girl you trusted with your life. The girl who was quite literally bartering your life this entire time.

You walked away when your heart started beating again, a tight grip around the song box currently keeping you alive.

Chapter Nine: coming soon...

taglist: @kryztalglear @learninglinesintherainn @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer

@endurexxsurvive @em16cor @gray-cheese @chaosofmanyfandoms @kitdjarin1

@some-day--some-how @cultish-corner @marirxse @amnoisysstuff

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #robin buckley #robin buckley x female reader #robin x reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x reader #stranger things fanfic #wlw #sapphic fic

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valkyriexo · 6 months ago

Text

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 4 - Smarter Baby, Smarter

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ;Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNIᑉ³ EPISODE WARNINGS; Nightmares

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 3K

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; Episode 4! So close.. yet so far...

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me. Remember, none of this is real. It is a story. It is fiction. You can choose not to read it if it will make you uncomfortable.

Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards

The days that followed were filled with a heightened sense of vigilance and an ever-present undercurrent of dread. Chan, determined not to leave you alone, had practically moved in, bringing along a few essentials and making himself a constant presence in your home. His presence was meant to provide you with a sense of comfort and security, but instead, it only served to magnify your growing paranoia.

At night, sleep became a luxury. Your dreams were plagued with nightmares, each one more vivid and terrifying than the last. You found yourself running through dark, endless corridors, the echo of your footsteps growing louder as the pursuer drew nearer. Their heavy breathing seemed to echo through your bones, sending chills down your spine. You could feel their gaze, cold and invasive, piercing through the darkness as they closed in on you. Each corner you turned offered no escape, only deeper shadows and the suffocating sense of impending doom.

Each time you jolted awake, drenched in sweat and heart pounding, you found Chan by your side, his concern overwhelming. "Are you okay?" he'd ask, his voice gentle yet filled with worry.

You'd nod, forcing a smile to reassure him, but the fear never truly left your eyes. "Just a bad dream," you'd reply, your voice trembling slightly. The truth was far more sinister, though. Even in the safety of your home, you could never shake the feeling of being watched. Windows felt like portals for prying eyes, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to announce an intruder's presence.

During the day, Chan's presence was a double-edged sword. While his company was comforting, the gnawing suspicion that had taken root in your mind made it difficult to fully relax around anyone, even him. The stalker's intrusion had cast a shadow over everyone in your life, and you couldn't help but question their intentions.

Despite the situation, the boys did not stop coming around.

Most of them, at least.

There was a noticeable shift in their behavior. Instead of the usual group gatherings where everyone showed up at once, it was now one or two of them at a time making appearances, checking in to ensure you were okay. Their visits were staggered, almost as if they were trying not to overwhelm you, but the absence of the usual selves only heightened your sense of isolation.

Han and Felix were the most frequent visitors, their cheerful demeanor brightening the otherwise gloomy situation. They brought food, shared jokes, and tried to lift your spirits, but even their presence couldn't dispel the unease. The dynamic had changed, and you couldn't help but wonder if they sensed something too.

One afternoon, as you sat in your living room pretending to read a book, your mind kept drifting back to everything that had happened. The pages blurred before your eyes as your thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of memories and moments that seemed to lead nowhere. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but the letters swam together in an incomprehensible jumble

From the kitchen, you could hear the sound of a knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board. Seungmin was there, slicing up some fruit for a snack. Chan was helping him, occasionally stealing glances at you, his worry evident despite the lighthearted conversation he was trying to maintain with Seungmin.

You forced yourself to turn a page, but the words remained incomprehensible. Your gaze involuntarily shifted to the kitchen.

Seungmin looked so... normal, so innocent as he carefully arranged the fruit on a plate. Yet, the nagging suspicion in your mind refused to be silenced.

Where was he during the investigation?

"Hey, you okay over there?" Chan's voice broke through your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see Chan leaning against the counter, watching you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just trying to distract myself," you said standing up and joining them in the kitchen.

Chan's eyes narrowed slightly, his intuition picking up on the unease you couldn't quite hide. He exchanged a glance with Seungmin, who was now looking at you with a worried expression as well.

"Want some fruit?" Seungmin offered, holding up the plate with a hopeful smile. "Thought it might help you relax."

You shook your head gently, offering a small, apologetic smile. "Thanks, Seungmin, but I'm still full from breakfast. Han and Felix brought over food this morning. I'm not really hungry right now."

Seungmin's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it with understanding. "No worries. If you change your mind, it's here."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture despite your lack of appetite. The tension in the room was palpable, and you knew you couldn't continue to dance around the issue any longer. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirl, and you needed clarity.

Chan's eyes lingered on you, sensing something wrong. As Seungmin turned to wash his hands at the sink, Chan leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You glanced nervously at Seungmin's back before meeting Chan's eyes. "I don't feel safe right now," you murmured urgently, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have a bad feeling... it's him."

Chan furrowed his brow in concern, his eyes searching yours for clarity. "Him? Seungmin?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief and concern. "Why do you think that?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of your suspicions heavy in your chest. "I don't know... it's just a gut feeling," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But everything... it all seems to point to him."

Chan's expression darkened, his worry deepening as he glanced over at Seungmin, who was still engrossed in his task at the sink.

"No, it can't be him," Chan replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That wouldn't make sense."

But before he could continue, you felt a surge of determination. The weight of your suspicions had become too much to bear, and you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach any longer.

"Seungmin," you called out, your voice louder than you intended, causing him to turn around, his hands still wet from washing.

"Y/n.." Chan said trying to stop you.

Ignoring Chan's attempt to intervene, you locked eyes with Seungmin, the intensity of your gaze cutting through the air.

"Seungmin," you repeated, your voice firm.

Seungmin's expression shifted, a hint of confusion flickering across his features as he took in the gravity of your tone. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "I need to ask you something," you began.

"Have you been following me? Watching me?"

Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise, his hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides. "What? No, of course not," he protested. "Why would you even think that?"

"Why have you been acting so strange lately?" you replied, your voice firm as you confronted Seungmin. "You have evidence pointing against you… I can't ignore it."

His eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "What evidence?" he asked.

"I think you're the one who's been stalking me," you blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush. "Every time something happens, you're somehow involved or conveniently not there."

Chan stepped in, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, let's take a step back here," he said, looking between you and Seungmin. "We need to handle this carefully."

Seungmin's face went from shock to hurt. "You think I'm stalking you?" he asked, his voice trembling. "I would never do something like that.... I'm your friend."

You could see the pain in his eyes, but the fear and paranoia that had been building up inside you couldn't be ignored. "Then explain the letters, Seungmin.

Seungmin nodded, his expression serious. "I want to clear this up. I don't know why you think I'm involved, but I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm not."

"One thing at a time, Y/N," Chan interjected gently, trying to keep the situation from escalating further.

"When I received that first letter, it was Seungmin who handed it to me," you explained, your voice shaking slightly.

Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "The letter with the gift basket? Minho handed it to me," he began. "He found it outside the front door and thought it might be important, so he gave it to me to give to you. I had no idea what it was at the time."

You frowned, trying to process his explanation. "And what about the second letter? You came over to give your condolences for my friend's passing, and that's when I found it."

Seungmin nodded again. "I came over because I wanted to be there for you. I had no idea there was another letter until you found it. I swear, Y/N, I have nothing to do with this."

Chan looked at you, his expression thoughtful. "It does make sense...."

You felt a flicker of doubt. Could it be that your paranoia had gotten the better of you? "And what about when the letters went missing, and the third one arrived? You weren't around then either."

Seungmin nodded, his expression resolute. "I was doing a photoshoot that day. I have pictures and timestamps to prove it. I can show you the evidence right now if it helps."

Chan looked at you, his eyes steady. "Let's see the photos, Seungmin. If you're telling the truth, this will clear things up."

Seungmin quickly pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery, finding the pictures from the photoshoot. He handed the phone to Chan, who examined the images carefully. The timestamps matched the dates and times you had noted.

Chan turned the phone towards you, showing the pictures. "He's telling the truth, Y/N. These photos prove he wasn't here when the letters went missing or when the third one arrived."

You stared at the photos, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. Seungmin's explanation seemed plausible, his earnestness evident in his words and actions. The evidence was clear, but the fear and paranoia still gnawed at you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt your body begin to tremble. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I just want this to stop." The reality of the situation, coupled with the weight of your suspicions, was overwhelming. "I've been so scared....I don't know who to trust anymore."

Seungmin's eyes met yours, filled with sincerity. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Please, believe me."

Your vision blurred as tears spilled down your cheeks. You took a deep breath, trying to absorb the reality. "I… I believe you, Seungmin. I'm sorry for doubting you. It's just… this whole situation has made me so paranoid."

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression softening. "I understand... If I were in your shoes, I'd probably feel the same way. We're all just trying to protect you."

At that moment, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sudden noise made you jump, your heart racing. Your hands shook as you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling. An unknown number flashed on the screen, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

With trembling fingers, you opened the message. The room seemed to close in around you as you read the words, your breath catching in your throat. The message was brief but chilling, a reminder that the nightmare was far from over.

You gasped, dropping the phone as if it had burned you. Chan and Seungmin were immediately at your side, concern etched on their faces as they reached out to support you. "What is it?" Chan asked urgently, picking up the phone and reading the messages.

Seungmin's eyes narrowed as he read the message. "Well, at least they've gone digital. We're saving trees," he remarked, attempting to inject a note of levity into the tense atmosphere.

Chan shot him a withering look, his expression grave. "Seungmin, not the time," he chided, his carrying urgency as he turned his attention back to you. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in.

Seungmin's voice carried a tone of frustration as he gestured to his phone. "I just want to point out that my phone is nowhere near me. So logically, it can't be me sending those messages."

Chan nodded in agreement, his brows furrowed in concentration. "He's right. Whoever this is, they're trying to frame him."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you stared at the cryptic message on your phone screen. "So, what do we do now?"

Chan took a deep breath, his expression determined as he reached for the phone. With a steady hand, he composed a message, his fingers flying across the screen.

"I'll handle this," Chan declared, his voice resolute. "We need to find out who's behind these messages."

He pressed send, and you held your breath, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for a response. You watched anxiously as the seconds ticked by, each moment stretching into eternity as you waited for a reply. Finally, the familiar chime of an incoming message broke the silence, and Chan's eyes darted to the screen.

You exchanged a worried glance with Chan. The cryptic message only added to the sense of unease that hung heavy in the air.

"What game?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but the question lingered unanswered, the sender remaining a mystery.

Seungmin's jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes darting between you and Chan. "We can't just sit around waiting for them to make a move," he asserted. "We need to take action."

Chan nodded, his expression serious. "We need to figure out who this is and why they're targeting you."

Just as he finished speaking, your phone buzzed again. The three of you looked at it in unison, a sense of dread creeping over you.

The same message from the same unknown number appeared on the screen.

Seungmin's frustration deepened. "They’re just trying to rattle us," he said through gritted teeth. "We shouldn't give them the satisfaction."

Chan agreed, but as he started to speak, your phone buzzed again. The same message repeated:

"It's like they’re not going to stop until we do what they want," you said, anxiety making your voice tremble.

Chan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Stay calm baby. We need to think this through."

But the phone buzzed yet again. The same message and link. The sender was relentless, bombarding you with the same demand over and over.

"Play the game."

Seungmin shook his head, his frustration giving way to a more resolute expression. "Maybe we should see what’s behind the link. But we have to be careful. It could be a trap."

Chan nodded. "We’ll open it on a separate device, one that’s not connected to any personal information. We need to see what we're dealing with."

You watched as Chan pulled out an old laptop from the closet, one that hadn’t been used in ages. He connected it to a public Wi-Fi network and opened the link, your heart pounding in your chest as the page began to load.

The screen flickered for a moment before revealing a dark, ominous website with a single line of text that read:

"Welcome to the game. Let’s see if you’re clever enough to survive."

You all exchanged weary glances. You had no choice but to see this through. With a nod from Seungmin and a deep breath from you, Chan pressed the "Play" button.

The screen transitioned to a new page, revealing what looked like a puzzle.

"Is this a joke?" Seungmin said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"It doesn't look like it," Chan replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the screen.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Let's just get through this. We need to see what they're after."

The first puzzle appeared simple, but it required careful thought and teamwork. You, Chan, and Seungmin huddled closer, your minds working in unison to decipher the clues. Each solution unlocked the next puzzle, the difficulty ramping up with each new screen.

Seungmin leaned back, his brow furrowed. "It looks like this is a series of puzzles. Each one is more difficult than the last."

Chan nodded, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "They’re testing us, pushing us to see how far we can go."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "But why? What’s the goal here?"

"I don’t know," Chan said, his voice steady despite the tension. "But were going to have to play the game to find out."

With a shared glance, you all knew there was no turning back. You had to see this through, no matter the risks.

"And play the game we will," you replied.

With that, you all turned your attention back to the laptop.

The sender may have set the rules, but you were determined to control the outcome.

Play the game

ઇଓ EP.5 - Draw me like one of your french girls

ઇଓ Taglist in the comments! If you want to be removed from the taglist send me a dm!

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