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atzfilm · 2 years ago

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— clair de lune. (m) - finale

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

pairing; ot8/f.reader, 21.2k~

warnings; major character death, manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut (dubious), gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, mass murder mention, blood exchanging, lying, mass delusions

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

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

thank you to my best friend @hongism rereading for me .. <3

Chapter 8:

“He brought her to where Yeosang is,” Yunho says softly, watching his friend pace back and forth. Endearing how worried he seems to be, though they all know the likely end of this. You will never be convinced to become one of them, and their time is slowly ticking down. Yunho himself wouldn’t mind turning you now, so that he may deal with the decades of anger sooner rather than later. The others, excluding Wooyoung, not so much. Especially Song Mingi, biting his lip as he ponders his thoughts.

Though Mingi showed a tough facade to you in the beginning, he has always been softer. Blunt, sure, but his worry seems to supersede everyone else’s. There was a time that it burdened him too heavily for any of the others to pull him out, Yunho barely succeeding at doing so. Seeing him close to what he was like before does bother Yunho, but there is surely some way out of this situation.

“You’re letting this worry you too much, Mingi,” Yunho says, flipping through another page of his comic. He snorts at the dialogue. His gaze moved to Mingi’s feet, seeming to burn a path into the hardwood. Despite wanting to finish the book - he’s lingered on the same chapter for a while - he places it to the side, trying to meet the eyes of his best friend. “Hongjoong won’t let her be hurt.”

“Yeosang gets into these sprees when he’s too overwhelmed. I’m worried he won’t see y/n when he’s there. There's a chance–"

“Nonsense,” Yunho waves him off. “He’ll smell her before anything else. Might pull him out of his rage.”

“Might is not definitive.”

“She will pull him out of it, all right? Mingi, don’t let this affect you so much.”

Mingi closes his eyes for a moment, thinking. “It’s as if everyone else can worry but me. Don’t look at me like that. Nothing will happen this time, not like before.”

Though Yunho doesn’t respond, that only seems to fuel Mingi further. He slowly starts his pacing again, fingers digging into the palms of his hands. It’s not enough to break skin, no, but Yunho watches as he begins to lose himself in his thoughts. Interrupting will only worsen the situation so instead, he waits for him to understand his thoughts, to think it through before saying something. Mingi stops, looking back at Yunho.

“Could Yeosang have been right this whole time?”

“Min…”

“I know,” he holds up his hand. “I know that he’s stuck in his head just like I am. But should we just dismiss his thoughts? Should we let ourselves go through all of this again? She’s died once before Yunho, and it feels like it’ll happen sooner rather than later. We’re taking the same path.”

“We’re not. We aren’t even pirates this time. It’s different, Mingi,” Yunho sighs, rubbing his face. “I haven’t shoved blood down her throat. And I doubt any of us will.”

“You’re not listening to me-“

“What do you want me to say?!” His voice rises as he stands from the couch. “Tell you that I’d rather live another one hundred torturous years than force her to turn? Because that’s not what I want, and I know that’s not what you want either. We don’t want her to die. But if we let her live a full life without attempting to turn her, we all will suffer without her being around.”

“But what if that's what she wants?"

Yunho narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Why are we so selfish to force our ideals when it’s not what she desires? Yeosang has been a shell of himself ever since he turned. Why do we assume that she will be the same as she is now? In fact,” his gaze is glued to the floor. “If she is the same, turning her will only exemplify her emotions. Her hate toward us will turn into pure abhorment.”

“Waiting hundreds of years knowing she’s alive is better than letting her life cycle restart.”

He holds in his horror at his words. Mingi knew that Rose's death affected Yunho horribly, especially knowing that he was the one that forced her to murder in the beginning. But speaking of you as if you're not your own person? Mingi decides it is best to no longer try and convince his friend. “You’re right,” he lets the lie slip through his anger. “We cannot endure this again, can we?”

“Have you not seen us?” Yunho snorts, slowly sinking back into the cushions. “Our self-torture can only go on but so far. It will be all fine in the end, Min. Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t.”

You’re not safe.

Hongjoong drags you through the front door, ignoring how you try to fight against his hold. It almost seems amusing to him, the slight smirk upon his lips, quirk of his brow. Enjoyment encasing his features. As if he finally has you and won’t let you go.

Your head is clearer now, absolute. Despite how kind any of them are – including Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi – they will never let you leave. It’s almost humorous to even think that they would have; each time you stepped a foot out of their gaze it was like you committed a felony. How unwise of you not to notice it sooner. It scares you how easily they’ve dug themselves into every part of your life - taking your home away, your friends. You’re sure there was influence on you applying for employment as well. Taking every escape away from you, keeping you to themselves.

“She will learn her place,” Hongjoong says, the grip on your arm so tight it feels as if he’ll pull it right from its socket. No matter how hard you tug he seems to ignore it, walking calmly pass the other men in the living area. The absence of Yeosang and Mingi is blatantly obvious, but you no longer have the will to ponder it. San and Wooyoung silently look on, quickly averting their gaze when you look at them. Yunho doesn’t, expression blank as he stares. Jongho, of course, does not bother facing you at all.

Seonghwa looks at you with pain. It’s sad how you no longer believe it to be real. Or at the very least, not for you. For the person's soul you've taken.

“We spoke about this, Joong,” Seonghwa starts, following close behind. “We said it would be different this time.”

He only scoffs, ignoring your screaming as he turns a corner. “What will we do then? Let her go on her merry way? You know that’s not possible now.”

“It is not now because you made it so,” he hisses, the two of them stopping in front of your door. Seonghwa crouches down, head tilted as he gazes upon you. All you can see is pity, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You flinch as he cups it, turning your head to meet his gaze. “It’s only for a few days. Just so that you get this out of your system, alright? We wouldn’t need to prolong it if there’s cooperation.”

“Fuck you,” you jeer.

"See?" Hongjoong seems to only sigh louder, pushing the door open and almost throwing you inside. You hold your head from hitting the floor, sliding across to the opposite side of the room. You struggle to lift yourself from the floor, body aching from the throw. You glance down at your hands, the blood from the dead in the restaurant dyed on your hands. You wipe them quickly, chest rising and falling.

There were so many dead. So many lives lost. You don’t notice how Seonghwa looks at you, wanting to step in and pull you out of your thoughts. He shuts his eyes for a moment, looking at his leader.

“Hongjoong.“

He holds up his hand. “She’ll learn her lesson soon enough. A few days of isolation will do wonders. Right, my sea?”

You don’t dare meet his gaze, nor try to run out the door. It’ll be foolish in the end, there’s eight of them and one of you. Why didn’t you listen to their advice?

Why didn’t you end it where it began?

It feels as if it’s spring outside; the window cracked just a bit for you to feel the warm breeze rush through. Vastly different from just a few days ago – the windchill almost suffocating, curtains closed as you tucked yourself beneath the blankets. You finally look away from the window when you see one of them appear, slowly making your way back into the cold sheets. Siyoon’s phone disappearing from the drawer only confirms your suspicions. If they are as guiltless as they make themselves out to be, it would still reside inside. Nothing sharp enough to hurt yourself with lying out and about. One of them searched your room when you left with Hongjoong. Now you’ll never know what happened to her. If she even survived her encounter with them.

The night Hongjoong dragged you back into this room is one you cannot forget. The pleas spilling from your lips as you begged for them to let you go, banging on the door. The sympathetic looks they gave you. As if you were the unstable one. As if all of this is your fault. Even Wooyoung, as guilty as he may be, gazed upon you with sympathy, an understanding nod as Hongjoong dragged you back inside, locking the door behind him. It's one of the last times you’ve seen him, and it’s been over a week since.

The first few nights were torture. They sealed your bedroom window, leaving it only open a crack for a bit of fresh air. The windows were coated with some sort of frost, hiding the outside world from your view. It only cemented the fact that no matter what you do or say, you’ll still be stuck in this room at the end of the day.

Now there’s nothing that could change your mind; Rose left for a reason. It wouldn’t surprise you if the two of you ended up in similar situations. Though she was stuck on a ship, and you are stuck in their home.

At least there’s the slightest chance that you can run.

“Your food is getting cold.”

Yunho stands at the door, hands tucked in pockets. He gives you a smile. You don’t have the energy to even pretend to care, shifting your gaze back to the frosted windows.

“No talking now?”

“Let me go.”

“Ah,” Though he speaks to your back, you can hear him run his fingers through his hair. “Eat and then we’ll talk about leaving.”

You roll your eyes, shifting your body to turn to him, “I should have noticed your lies from the beginning. It just comes so easily to you. What are you going to say next? I’m allowed to get some fresh air if I take a bite?”

His grin sticks, “Of course.”

“Go away, Yunho.”

“None of us want you stuck in this room, y/n,” he moves closer to the bed. You tense up immediately at his steps, eyes flicking to his hands. He holds them up in surrender, slowly sitting on the small stool. “We said it’d be temporary and we weren’t lying about that. If you want, you can sit outside and eat. I know you’re tired of looking out that window.” He gestures, dropping his hands. “We never wanted you to feel like a prisoner.”

“What a joke.”

“None of this would have happened if you cooperated,” he shrugs. “So, you want to go out or not?”

“If I say no?”

“Another week, unfortunately,” he frowns.

You slowly sit up, body numb from not moving for several hours. Yunho reaches out to steady you but you shift from his hand, shaking your head. They’ve hidden a lot from you; letting Yunho touch you is not the plan. You’d probably be put under some sort of spell. Of course, your imagination is very much working overtime, but months ago you wouldn’t have guessed that there was an underground vampire band that used to be pirates so consumed by their grief that they latch on to the reincarnation of their former lover.

Saying it in your head makes it even more unbelievable.

“You’re all sick, you know that right?” You murmur, sliding into your slippers. He doesn’t say anything, watching as you make your way to the plate of food. He takes it just as you’re about to grab it. “Yunho.”

“We’re going outside. You’re looking sickly without any sunshine, you should open the curtains a bit more. Light isn’t your enemy.” He steps to the side, gesturing to the open doorway. You’re not sure why the sight makes your anxiety start to rise. But you leave anyway, Yunho close behind you. The hallways are quiet as you step through the home. The back door is already ajar. You can see others just outside. One in particular stands out amongst the rest, sitting idly by the door. You still, causing Yunho to bump slightly into you as you do.

“I want to go back.”

“No.”

“Yunho–”

“I know there’s still a backbone in there somewhere, pretty,” he whispers, “Use it.” He pushes you slightly, forcing you to step further to the outside.

You stumble as you walk through the doors, desperately trying to calm your heart down enough. How have they beaten you down to the point where you cannot function properly around them? One man shouldn’t terrify you so much. You ignore his eyes, feeling them trail after you as you quickly make your way to the bench after slipping into your outdoor shoes, leaving the others to the side. The last time you were here, you enjoyed your time with Jongho. The memory is happy enough to ease your heart slightly, slow breaths escaping you. You sit down, Yunho placing the plate on a small table in front of you, a water bottle adjacent.

“See? Not so bad,” he pats the table, stretching. “I have to run out, but the others will keep you entertained enough. See you later, pretty.”

“Wait-”

He turns and walks before you can say another word. Your fists rest upon your thighs, gaze glued to the plate in front of you. From the quick glances before, you spotted Hongjoong, San, and Wooyoung lingering outside. Your body is too exhausted to think about where the others may be. The sun is bright today, hot against your skin as you slowly take a bite of the food. Your eyes move to the side, San and Wooyoung leaving promptly. You grip your plate, staring at the chest of the man who slowly makes his way over to you. Fear is what drives you now, looking in his eyes too much for you. All you can think of is the way he grinned as blood coated his hands and clothing, the way he laughed as he threw you into the room.

"Nice to see you after a few days, my sea," he sits on the grass in front of you, keeping enough distance for you to calm down slightly. You look back at the plate, unable to respond. "Nothing to say to me?"

"No."

He slowly drops his body against the lawn, hands resting behind his head. You inadvertently look at his face. The same sly smirk rests against his lips, brows lifting quickly when you finally look at his eyes.

You take another bite.

"Have you slept?"

"How could I when I'm in a house with people who want to kill me?" You say, teeth clenched.

"Being a vampire isn't killing you, y/n. It's another life. Extending your human one beyond what you can think of. It's a gift."

"It's a curse," you whisper. "Humans shouldn't live that long."

"Once you turn you're no longer human, so that doesn't really matter, does it?"

You place your chopsticks down, taking a slow breath. There's no use in speaking to him about it. He's lived long enough to twist your words. make it fit into his. And the other you’s probably had this same exact conversation with him dozens of times. “And then what comes after? Eternal suffering?”

“After turning? Anything you desire. You’ll have the world at your feet, just as we do.”

“It must be quite easy for you to assume,” you note, tucking your knees further into your chest. “Assuming that I will decide to live with you for however long I will be ‘alive’–“ you motion quotes with your fingers– “It’s a bit presumptuous to believe that I will never leave your side. And forcing me to will only work for so long. There will be a point when I decide that I’m sick of it and run.”

“You have yet to run though,” Hongjoong shrugs, gesturing to the gate. “It's been open for quite a while now but you lack an attempt to make a run for it.”

Scoffing seems to only lessen the impact of his words. What if you were to make a run for it? You doubt they would let you out of their sight for a moment. You can only think back to when Seonghwa let you go in that supermarket. You’re sure that everything would be in a different shape if you never arrived back home. What if… what if you didn’t show back up? Seonghwa gave you the out. The perfume that hides your smell, pheromones. You had the chance and you didn’t even take it.

Has there ever been a moment where you would have?

“Will you chase after me?”

He only smiles.

“Then what’s the point of me running? I doubt I’d get over the threshold without one of you stopping me.”

“Have you lost your drive to survive?” he raises a brow. “Or have you settled? The sea that I know wouldn’t allow us to keep her here without at least attempting to fight for it. It is only saddening to look at.” Despite his words his grin only seems to widen as he watches you. He’s desired this. He's always yearned for you to be subdued, underneath his fervent whims. Abiding by them only worsens the situation. But you cannot imagine yourself not giving up, fighting through it. You’ve tired yourself out over this year of meeting them. Who knew that the snarky woman at Clair de Lune would allow herself to be broken down into this empty shell? You know now that Rose wouldn’t have settled. She would have probably taken her life long ago.

It’s strange that you have yet to consider that path yourself.

“Who turned her?”

“Excuse me?” He’s mocking you now. "Couldn't quite hear you."

"Who turned Rose, Hongjoong? Which one of you did it?"

"Why do you care? Do you want to reenact it again? I wouldn't mind it, sure. But that's a bit strange even for you."

Oh. Fuck you.

“Wooyoung insists that it wasn’t him,” you start, knowing that this conversation could easily be turned on you. “And I believe him. But what I don’t understand is why her death is being hidden from me. What’s there to hide if she killed herself as you all have said? If it’s true, you could talk about it. If it’s true, you wouldn’t hide it from me.”

“Who are you to tell us what we’re thinking?” Though he still has the teasing grin on his lips, his eyes shifted, more narrowed. “Would it make you sleep better at night, knowing what truly happened to her? Would it change your mind about us, make you see us in a different light? Because as I see right now, you’re completely terrified of being in the same room as us. Pouring gasoline on the fire isn’t going to put it out.”

Though he doesn’t admit it blatantly, you can read between the lines. It’s true; Wooyoung didn’t kill her. He killed Yeosang, yes. But not Rose. And from what you know thus far Hongjoong wouldn’t hesitate to tell you it was him or Yeosang. He’d probably do it on purpose to make you fall deeper into yourself. But why hide it?

What would he gain?

Hongjoong stands, brushing off the strands of grass from his slacks. “I’d love to play with you some more, but we have a show. Mingi is somewhere around to entertain you whenever you decide to leave this spot. See you later, sea.” He waves slightly, leaving you alone outside. You glance at the open gate. There’s no one around that you can see but you know they’re watching. Waiting for you to take a step to it. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath.

Are you truly stuck here?

There seemed to be silent agreement amongst the men. Averted gazes, stepping out of the room when you enter. Even Wooyoung, as boisterous as he is, avoids you as you walk down the hallways. The feeling is eerie; watchful eyes at every corner, behind every door. The freedom to roam only makes you feel more trapped. More secluded. You wonder if this was their captain’s plan all along.

Your grip on the ceramic cup Mingi slides to you is tight. Lips firm. It’s strange how alone you feel in a house filled with people.

“Are you all right?” Mingi keeps his distance, leaning against the far wall. There’s a bit of a frown on his lips. He’s never shown you mock concern, but that was before you were forced into these walls. Now you don’t think your read of their expressions is accurate at all. “y/n?”

“Fine,” you remain tight lipped, placing your cup on the counter. You lift the coffee pot, slowly pouring it. You pretend not to notice the knives sitting on the countertop, only an arm’s reach away. “As fine as I can be while being kidnapped.”

You wait for him to excuse their behavior, say something along the lines of It’s not like that, we love you. A part of you hopes he does so you can tear apart the argument piece by piece. Instead, he nods solemnly, a sigh breaking the silence.

“It’s inexcusable.”

That makes you stop for a moment and turn to him. He sends you a closed-lipped smile, shrugging.

“There’s not much else I can say but that.”

“Shocked you’re not begging on your knees for me to forgive you,” you admit, placing the pot back down. The warmth causes a shutter through you, hands cupping the coffee. “Or telling me to go see Hongjoong.” Hongjoong told you just before he left that if you wanted to know details, you could just ask him. Alone, of course. Exactly the one thing you'd never do.

He laughs dryly then, “Would you even agree to it?”

“Hell no.”

“Then there’s no use in me even asking.”

“What’s up with you, Mingi?” Though the question is reasonable, there’s layers to it. He’s been off ever since that day the two of you were taken and kept in Subin’s home, or whatever it was. The day that he found out you were slowly being poisoned. It’s as if something shifted with him. Sure, he was annoyed with you in the beginning and it drifted to a fondness. But nothing this odd. He looks as if he’s in neverending pain.

Wait.

No. You’re not about to do this. There’s no reason to be worried for him. Feeling sympathy toward a person who is holding you against your will isn’t smart.

He shakes his head slowly, “I just, I worry for you. I know you won’t believe my words because I’ve broken your trust, but I am scared.”

“Of?”

“What we are doing to you,” his voice is low, eyes widening as he says it. His pupils tremble as they stare at you, full of aversion and panic. “I’m afraid of the past continuing to repeat. It’s frightening how similar it is.“

“You say that and yet here I stand across from you, unable to leave while you look at me with pity. I’ve got to say, Mingi, you almost fooled me.” You snort, ignoring the way your heart pounds. He can hear it, you’re sure of it.

“They’re not home,” he starts. “I’m the only one here.”

“So?”

“I’m the only one here,” he repeats.

You still, gaze moving back to him. “You would let me go?”

“You wouldn’t get far.”

“Mingi, you would let me leave right now?”

Though there is pain in his eyes, he nods. “I’d do anything for you. But you have to hurry, y/n. They’re—”

You don’t let him finish, dropping the cup from your hands and turning down the hallway. There’s no time to grab anything but your bag that hangs by the door. Just as you swing the door open, you meet the eyes of Jeong Yunho. His widens briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair.

“Didn’t I tell them that Mingi shouldn’t be home alone with you?” He steps inside, stepping around you. You don’t bother exiting the house, the others slowly making their way up the path. “Running away at the slightest chance. I told them this would happen. They were all worried about Seonghwa when we should have been watching Mingi.”

Mingi swallows slowly, looking at you with sympathy. The others enter the home, talking amongst each other as they step around you. They all wear their outfits from the show, not bothering to clean off the blood of their victims. Most are stained, except Jongho. And again, Yeosang is nowhere to be found. You doubt you’ll ever see him again after what you’ve witnessed. Hongjoong is the last to enter, slowly closing the door behind him. He closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the space above his brows.

“What was the end goal, my sea?” He asks, turning to you. “Where were you going to go?”

“Hongjoong—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping you just as you begin to speak. “Better that I not know so I don’t mess up your little plans, right?” His smile drops when he looks at Mingi, eyes narrowed. “You said you would watch her.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t think she would run—”

“A foolish thought. An even foolisher one that you would let her.” Hongjoong interrupts, eyes flicking to yours. “Yeosang would be hurt that you’d just run away, you know.”

“I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Is that so?” His brow lifts. “Then what about Mingi? Seonghwa? Jongho? You would leave us all without blinking?”

“This is not a life, Hongjoong!” Your voice rises, throwing your hands in the air. “What do you expect me to do? Just sit here and take it? Let you turn me into whatever you want? Generations of my soul didn’t want it, Joong. I myself don’t want it either. I just want to go home.” You can feel your breath quickening, heart beating against your chest. “Why won’t you let me go home?”

“What home, y/n? Your apartment is gone. Or are you speaking of your family? Parents? Oh my beautiful sea,” he tsks, shaking his head. “They don’t want you. They’ve never wanted you.”

“Stop,” you shake your head. “I won’t listen to you.”

He takes another step to you, forcing you to shrink into the corner of the room. The others do nothing to stop him. “You know it yourself. That’s why you ran to Seoul. Because they didn’t want you, remember? You begged for them to listen to your dreams, to accept you as you are. But they disowned you, told you that they were no longer your parents. You pleaded over and over but they only forced you out with one suitcase, and barely one thousand won. Pretending it didn’t happen doesn’t stop it from being true,” he places his hand on your cheek, pressing his lips against your forehead. They feel abnormally hot on your skin. “We’re your family now, y/n. We’ll take care of you.”

No. They didn’t… did they? Your memories begin to jumble. And just as clear as day, you remember the way your father shouted at you, telling you to leave. How you cried, falling to your knees. That’s not true, no. He loved you. He… hated you.

“I’m sorry Rose, it’ll be quick okay? Really quick, I will not let you suffer.” Jongho pushes his hand against your mouth as Rose–you, cry out. Your hands grip his arms, gagging as you accidentally swallow his blood. He pulls away, letting you fall to the wooden boards. You cough, desperate to get it out of your body. Realizing that you cannot, you try to stand, only for him to stand above you, holding a silver knife. His eyes are wide. He is smiling. Smiling as he stands over your body. You've never seen him this terrifying before. You try to speak, gagging at the blood in your mouth.

“It’ll be quick, Rose.” He brings it against your neck as you gasp, your screaming cut off. You feel it sink into your skin, gripping it tightly. Hongjoong moves around him, crouching next to you. His eyes flick over yours, ubiquitous glee radiating from his gaze. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead as the pain consumes you.

"y/n! Are you there? Can you hear me?" Jongho’s grip on you is tight. shaking your body over and over again.

Your hands grab his, pushing them off. He looks confused as he moves closer to you, but you cry out, backing up against the wall. The others look at you with worry, Hongjoong conveniently no longer in the room. You touch your face, wincing as your fingers brush against the cuts. When did they appear on your skin? Your eyes flick to Jongho, remembering. He killed you, her. Jongho was the one who did it.

It was never Wooyoung.

You fall to your knees, feeling him quickly move to touch you. "Get the fuck away from me!" Your head whips around, glaring. "Do not touch me, Jongho."

"y/n, I know a lot is happening right now—"

"You," your legs push you farther into the corner, eyes swelling with tears. "It was you all along. I thought it was Wooyoung, I blamed him but it was you. It was always you." The tremors through your body seem to only rise as you push through the thoughts. Your head throbs, eyes shut. "You killed her."

"Please just let me explain."

You shake your head, slowly standing. "She… you all lied. She never wanted to be like you, just like Yeosang. Both of them wanted to be human and you forced them to be like you. Because you're all fucked!" A half laugh, half gasp leaves your lips, thoughts scattered. "Why am I still here? I need to go, I need—"

"Why does every incarnation of you just never listen? Why do we have to go through this every time?" Yunho sighs, rubbing his face. "It would've been so easy if you just cooperated, y/n. It all would be easy." He slowly shuts the door behind him, the grip on his knife tightening. When did he get that? "We could've done it differently this time, my love."

The tension in the room shifts as he speaks. Wooyoung keeps his gaze low, Mingi staring at his friend. He looks furious, fists curled into themselves. “Yunho—”

“Say another word, Song, and I’ll kill you myself.”

"No one is killing anyone," Seonghwa enters the room, barely giving Yunho a glance. He looks at you, a small smile on his lips. "Want to talk? Alone?"

In all honesty you want to be left alone completely, but that will never be the case. Instead, you give him a weak nod, letting his hand slip into yours. Just as you're about to leave the room, you stop him. Whatever is happening between Mingi and Yunho, their friendship is crumbling in front of you. You just have this strange feeling that if you leave them alone something would happen. It's human nature; despite their lack of care for your own life, you care for theirs. Out of fear you avoid Jongho and Yunho's eyes, looking at Mingi.

"Can you come too?"

None of you say a word as you sit in the room together. Your head is tucked between your knees, breath shaky as you try to think this through. None of them will help you, you’re sure of it. Even with Mingi’s attempt, you’re sure he won’t do it as easily as before. Hongjoong might convince him otherwise. How he pulled those memories out of you, you’d never be able to explain. All of it is just so much, so heavily weighed on you. Everything is just too overwhelming.

“Do you need air?” Seonghwa asks softly, crouching in front of you. He doesn’t touch you or hold your hand and you’re thankful for it, emotions slowly taking over.

“I don’t know if I can take this anymore,” you admit, lifting your head just enough to show him your moist gaze. “My friend is dead, my parents disowned me. Seungwoo tricked me into caring about him and he’s gone now too. Yeosang is…” Your voice catches in your throat. “I have no one, Seonghwa. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone. I’m alone.”

Waiting for his reassurances, telling you that you have them, it never comes. He rests his head against the foot of the bed, barely a centimeter or so away from where you rest. Your body shakes, trembling. You wonder if he realizes that there’s nothing he could say that would convince you that you’re not in danger, that you’re safe around them. The more you think about it, he’s a part of the few who told you that they apologize for what they’ve done - despite continuously doing it. It all feels mute now. The more you try to convince yourself that everything is fine, the more you fold into your own thoughts.

Nothing is fine. You’re sure that it never was.

“Was it the change that made him do it?” You ask, “Did turning into this make him unstable? Make all of you not as you were?”

Mingi scoffs, a light laugh escaping him. “It’s like we’re experiencing the same conversation over again.”

“You should have learned from the first time. Rose warned you and yet you made her take her life because she was terrified of all of you. You did this to her, whether you’d like it or not.” All of the visions are beginning to add up. Realizations one after the other. In the end Hongjoong was right; it didn’t matter who killed Rose, or this Cassia that he mentioned. It didn’t matter because your soul would never be free if they continued this cycle. Each time you died was because you rejected one of them. Hongjoong was the first, sure, but whatever poison that infects their bloodstream made all of them the same. All of your thoughts are forming one conclusion.

You have to let them turn you.

The thought makes you ill, body shivers. It makes sense. Every rejection led to death, every single time. Even now, before this revelation, you promised yourself you’d find a way to end your life before living as a vampire. But why let your soul continue the endless torture when you can just stop it? Perhaps you would enjoy your life after this. Maybe, eventually, you’ll learn to love them, enjoy them. You did before all of this. It wasn’t hard. It was strangely easy.

You reach to the side, opening your drawer to grab a tissue. You tense up, remembering that Siyoon’s phone is no longer in its place.

“Did you listen to anything I’ve said?” Seonghwa asks, pulling you away from the drawer. “Are you alright?”

You stare at the blank space, blinking slowly. “Can we have dinner together?”

His eyes widened, looking back at Mingi before standing. “Oh, I can grab a plate for you. I think Yunho was preparing something—”

“No, I want to eat together. With everyone, if that’s okay.”

The room is loud. Having eight people talking all at once, laughter in the air as they speak of different things makes you forget for a moment that they aren’t evil. That you’re not safe the longer you stay here. Your resolution from before begins to crack. Are you truly okay with being one of them? The metal smell of blood seeps through the air, your stomach turning as you watch them swallow it from glasses, mixed with other strange substances. None of them mention Yeosang’s absence, the chair pushed in as they pass around miscellaneous things. You can’t help but focus on it. He’s hated his life for over a hundred years. Your heart feels like it’s sliding through your body, sinking into the old hardwood floors. It’s scary, the effect he has on you. His absence has gone through you, you’ve tried burying the thoughts but they only seem to come back into your shaky hands, consuming every waking thought.

Is this how they feel? You planned this dinner to be an intervention, to question them as to what happened to Siyoon’s device. But all you’re doing is selfishly thinking of yourself and not her. Perhaps you’re not much different from them. It’s far too late to run away. Each part of them already lives there. You wish that you had more time. Your eyes shift to Jongho. Did you love him, despite it all? The way he pressed his hand against her lips, forced her to turn. He did not do that to you, no. But would he? Would your Jongho make you choke on his blood with a tender look in his eyes as your life faded? He seems to notice your stare, round eyes meeting yours. There’s care in them, worry, hurt. Regret. The feelings are so overwhelming that you force yourself to leave his eyes, watching the others. He doesn’t look away. Is this feeling what most want? To have someone unable to look away even when you have?

“Which one of you took Siyoon’s phone from my drawer?” The table silences in an instant. You look up from your cold dinner, sliding your gaze from face to face. None of them speak up, as if you didn’t ask a question at all. You swallow slowly. “Is she dead?”

“Yes,” Jongho speaks up. The tone is careful as he whispers. “But I want you to listen to my words carefully, y/n—”

You should have known. Nothing can be good with them. Nothing. “One of you killed her.”

Jongho shakes his head, “y/n—”

“Stop! Stop making me think I’m some fucking crazy person!” You stand up from your seat, hands gripping the wooden table. Through your anger you can see how Hongjoong sips his drink silently, not saying a word. “One of you took her phone away from me and probably destroyed it before I could read what’s on it. Pretending that you didn’t hurt her in any way to keep me here. Jongho, your lies aren’t going to work this time. Not. This. Time.”

“Would you like her phone?” Hongjoong’s brow quirks. He digs into his pocket, the familiar cases appearing in his hands. Without another word, he stands, placing it in front of you. The familiar pink casing staring back at you. “Be my guest. Fair warning; you won’t enjoy what’s on there. She wasn’t the kindest person in the world.”

You ignore his warnings, immediately entering her password. The table is quiet as you look through the various apps. Nothing is out of sorts, not even her emails. Your thumb hovers over the messages, before pressing the icon. It’s filled with unread messages, most sending their sympathies and condolences. But your brows furrow at one chat, the name of it unsettling.

You open it. It’s a group chat between her and several others, many of whom you recognize as acquaintances you met through Siyoon. You read through it, each message sinking in. Insults in between jokes about you, many of which are from Siyoon herself. Endlessly complaining about you, telling the rest that she was using you for her own gain. Messages that date back to even before you met the men who sit in front of you now. Your vision begins to blur as you control to scroll, stopping at the first message in the group chat.

It was a week after you met Siyoon.

siyoon: think we can use her for better grades?

You close the phone, mouth dry. "Did you kill her?"

"No," Jongho says again. “That night, the night we met. She was with someone, they said. A Jaehyeong? I can’t remember his last name. But they were together, and he…” Jongho trails off. “It was a car accident, y/n. They both died.”

The air feels colder as you think back to the night. Leaving her with him despite the red flags. She wasn’t drunk, nor was he, but there was just something off about that night. You were too involved with yourself to think it through clearly. In fact, you’re sure that you told her to message you when she got back home. Thinking about it now, you’ve never received that text.

You don’t take their word for it, opening the web browser on her phone and typing in their names. It’s the first article of a few, a car accident that killed the lives of two innocent young adults. No alcohol in their systems. The phone slips through your fingers, face down against the table.

“How long did you know?” You ask softly. “How long?”

“Not too long after Seonghwa saw you in the bookstore,” Yunho admits, taking another sip of the drink. “We didn’t know you well enough back then, so we thought you knew of it already. It was a bit of a shocker that you didn’t up to this point. When we found the phone in your drawer, that’s when we realized where you went when we lost you in the supermarket.”

Your head slowly shakes on its own as the information sinks in. Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the men in the room exchange looks over you.

“She’s gone.” You hold your hand over your mouth, tears falling down your cheeks, dripping against the table. Seeing your friend Siyoon, her words egregious, makes you feel all but nauseous. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone, but it hurts knowing she felt that way about you. That you were just a tool in her life, when you thought you were more than that.

You've felt alone before, but the sinking feeling that you have not one person in this world who cares about you is utterly terrifying.

Hongjoong sits on the balcony, Seonghwa and San across from him. He tends to a cup of wine, sipping slowly as he looks out into the surrounding forest. He hasn’t heard from Mingi or Jongho, guiding you to your room once you’ve found out. A part of him forgot that you still had that brief connection with the woman, immediately giving the phone to Wooyoung once he found out about it. He’s thankful that you were too distraught to notice anything strange about the messages, dates and communications slightly off. But it convinced you enough, the device forgotten as you sink into your grief.

He glances at the other two across from him, lids heavy. “Would either of you care so much for a woman who insulted you and used you in your past?”

San hesitates before speaking. “They were friends, Hongjoong. She cared for her. It would be hard not to feel immense grief at the thought of losing someone that close. She will be devastated for a long time.”

He sighs, taking another sip. “Then we have to delay turning her.”

“Is this… not too far?” Seonghwa asks, already predicting his answer. “She has lost her friends, family. You never told us you would manipulate her thoughts that way. Now she believes that her family hated her.”

He merely shrugs, “They would have anyway once they saw their daughter as one of us. Her parents were quite traditional. She hid every relationship from them in fear of their rejection. Ours wouldn’t have been much different.”

“And Yeosang, then? Will we continue to force them apart?”

“Of course not, hyung.” It’s a farce in itself, knowing that Hongjoong is thousands of years older than he is. “Do you truly consider me that mad?” He rolls his eyes. “I told Yeosang to come home whenever he likes. He is the only one preventing himself from entering these doors. He’s afraid of what she might say to him. Not unwarranted — she did see him at his lowest. It would be a bit hard for her to see him without imagining that blood covering his body.”

“I just don’t understand,” San stands from his spot. “How will all of this make her want to be one of us? She’s just brewing in her hurt now. It’s worse than Rose now. There’s no chance she’d agree, or live that long to accept herself.”

“You never think of the bigger picture, San. She is hurting so badly now, thoughts darker and more vulnerable. Now she really has no one but us. There's no need to convince her because she'll come to the conclusion herself." He grins, leaning further back in his seat. "And I will be waiting with open arms."

Wooyoung wipes the blood against his jeans, some of it sticking to the underside of his nails. They haven't killed anyone; their thoughts wiped as they stumble down the street, told to go back to their homes. He slumps himself onto the bench. After being turned he considered himself a less caring man. He knows it, more than the others tell him. But seeing you so defeated… it made him feel filthy. No amount of blood draining helps him forget the distant look in your eyes. You looked so alone. It reminded him of his former life; abandoned and distraught. He knows that if Seonghwa didn't find him sooner, he wouldn't have survived for much longer.

He lifts his hands, staring at his palms. Is this what they've become? Shells of their former selves? Losing you devastated him. He could remember the murder sprees they went on, full of grief. Not caring who or what they killed. So consumed with turmoil for years. He thought that when he saw you again, his peach, it would be okay again. You would love him as you did before with ease, care for him. But it just feels the opposite. That he's trying to convince you to give him a chance.

He leans his head back, staring at the night sky. It's a bit colder now despite the change in seasons, the summer breeze chilly.

He scoffs, rubbing his face.

Maybe he is completely delusional.

Your knees are tucked close to your chest. You're not sure if you can cry anymore, body exhausted from the hours of sobbing. You stare at the door, knowing that even if they're giving you space, you couldn't do anything without them knowing. Their hearing far supersedes yours. It wouldn't surprise you if your heart beat is being listened to. You close your eyes for a moment.

You have nothing. Just them, just their endless and unconditional affection. No friends, no family. Not even a slip of a memory that Rose could give you. Nothing.

It's scary to think about.

"I want to see him." You whisper.

It pains you to even think of his face, but you need to see him. You need him to tell you that he's there. That he won't abandon you when you make your choice.

"Please."

Mingi stands outside the abandoned cemetery. His hand grips the rusted gate, chest tight. It's funny that he could feel it despite his heart no longer functioning at all. All of them know where he went. It's hard not to when they're all so in tune to each other. But here? The place that Mingi avoided with everything that he had. The place they buried their beautiful Rose. He takes a long breath, taking slow steps inside. Her grave isn't too far away from the entrance, but it makes him want to break down the closer he gets. He spots Yeosang not too far off, sitting in a folded chair, eyes glued to her grave.

He wears the same outfit he left home that night. Clothing still stained with dried blood, ripped every which way. Smell putrid, nauseating if Mingi were a human. But he's used to the smell of the dead. It's a smell that appears when they haven't fed or moved in a while. None of them really let themselves get that far into decaying, but Yeosang does quite often. A form of self torture, Mingi thinks. A method that he once used when he let his thoughts take over.

"That's something you and y/n have in common. Never say a word until I speak up," Yeosang says. His voice sounds hoarse. This is probably the first time he's said a word aloud in weeks; deeper tone much more so. He doesn't move though, back still facing Mingi as he makes his way over. "I'm not going back if that's what you're here for."

"We want to make sure you're okay."

"Right. They wouldn't send you if they did care."

"You know we care, Yeosang. Don't start with that," Mingi knows he's partially correct. Hongjoong planned on coming himself but Mingi insisted it be him. Wooyoung was usually the first to break Yeosang. Mingi never really understood how to speak to him. They're friends, sure. Family. But he and Yeosang aren't as close as the others. There's often silence when they're together. Comforting, but quiet. "I wanted to come."

"Did you." A statement, more than a question.

"It's been weeks, Yeo."

“And it’s usually years before one of you decides to come find me.”

Mingi sighs, “You know it’s different this time.”

“Ah yes. This time you have your Rose, and you want everything to be perfect for her. My apologies for messing things up again. Tell Hongjoong I give him my condolences.”

“She’s not just mine.”

“No, she’s his. She’s always been his. Alas, I have forgotten,” He rolls his eyes, “What do you believe is holding us together after all these years? And if there is any answer other than her, it’s a lie. We’ve all desired in different ways, what we would do if she came back to us. And now that she’s here, everyone is only caring about their own feelings. Have you not considered hers? Do hers matter in the grand scheme of things? Do we truly want her for as she is now, or how she was before?

“You think we don’t care?”

“Not necessarily. I think you care for a woman who’s no longer there. What do you know of her now that isn’t something from before? Wooyoung called her peach with such ease, Hongjoong called her his sea. Nothing that we have done thus far is for the woman in front of us now. We have wrecked her life so that we ourselves can live in a falsehood. The only reason we still tolerate each other after decades of fighting is because we have her as the reward at the end. You may consider me wrong, fine. But I’m not deluded into this fantasy that you’ve all formed.”

Mingi looks at Yeosang sitting on the rock. He looks tired for an immortal, eyes heavy, skin paler from lack of blood supply. It’s strange that despite all his words Mingi can tell that he loves her. He was never this passionate about Rose, never this protective over her well-being. In a bizarre way, the man sitting in front of him may love you more entirely. No one fights for a life this desperately without love.

“You adore her, don’t you, Yeo?” Mingi asks softly. His brows seem to furrow in pain at the question, mouth opening and closing. He takes a long breath, gaze on the city in front of them. “What will you do, then? Let us turn her?”

“... I can’t stop it.”

“You’d give up so easily?” Mingi’s brow lifts.

“Have you? You tell me to do something you know I cannot, and complain about me being resigned in my position? And make it into my problem when you're as concerned as I?" He scoffs, sinking deeper into his seat. "Mingi, you've lived long and have known me well enough to not ask stupid questions."

"I'm accepting it because I don't see another way," he admits. "You wish to no longer be immortal, but I can't imagine not being one. I can't imagine being a human again. And I can't imagine losing her because of it. It's horrid, no need to look at me like that."

Yeosang tries to fix his expression, only twisting further into silent disgust. He looks away from his friend. The sky seems more interesting than the conversation they're having. "I'm glad you know how stupid you sound."

"I know. Might be because we're all slowly falling into our madness without you around."

"Shiny words won't make me come back."

"...She needs you, Yeosang. More than you know. I think you're the only one who can pull her out of this."

"Nothing you say is going to make me want to come back—"

"She asked for you."

Yeosang is silent. It feels like a lifetime has passed when he speaks up again.

"Lying is a sin."

"Then my words must make me all the more blessed."

Yeosang grips the railing, "Did she truly, Mingi? You aren't fibbing this time? Hongjoong didn't put you up to this?"

"No. Yeosang, you're a fuck-up just like the rest of us. But she loves you. She wouldn't give up on you."

Yeosang sucks in a breath, turning back to the grave. He lifts his hand, as if to reach out. Instead, it limply falls back to his knee.

"I love her, Mingi. I love y/n, I probably love her more than I've ever loved Rose. And it fucking terrifies me," he runs his fingers through his hair, only causing it to stick up more. "I can't see her because I will break down. I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't forgive me. I don't even deserve to be forgiven for killing all of those people. I—" He looks at Mingi, eyes glazed over with a pink tint. "I would try to turn her right then and there to make her forget."

“You wouldn’t.”

“And I would have believed that before everything happened. Now I’m not too sure. It might be what Hongjoong is banking on. Me losing control like I always do. I can’t, Mingi. I can’t see her when I’m like this,” he glances down at himself, thumbing his soiled clothes. “Even more so with this on me. It’ll just remind her of what I’ve done.”

“One, you’re not going to hurt her,” Mingi holds up his hand when he sees Yeosang opening his mouth. “And two, take a shower?”

"Mingi…"

"Prolonging it will only make it worse in the end. Don't be a fool, Yeosang. We already have enough of those around us, including me."

Yeosang turns back to the headstone, a solemn look on his face. "Rose would strangle us all if she knew what we're doing. In moments like this, I cannot help but miss her presence. She was often kind but stern with her words. I am sure all of us would have been scolded to the ends of the Earth."

Mingi's lips curve into a small smile. "We'd leave with burning ears and ringing heads."

Yeosang laughs then, shaking his head. His smile slips again, swallowing slowly. "I'll think about it, Mingi. I know you're not lying, and she requested me. But though she is ready, I'm not. Not yet."

"Then I will stay with you until you are."

"You don't have to do that," he glances at him. "I know you dread this place."

Mingi only sinks to his knees next to his friend, resting against the side of the large rock. Yeosang does not discourage him, allowing him to join as they stare at the stone.

At their Rose.

You can't remember how much time has passed. Sadness burdens your soul, your feet dragging against the tiles, barely acknowledging anyone who passed by. Holding back your tears each time you think of your friend. It's enough that you've broken down in front of them, it would be silly for it to happen over and over again. Your pride speaking, but it's all you have left.

You feel the air shift as you're shifting your blankets on the bed. Your grip tightens when you sense someone standing at the doorway. They've announced themselves each time, but this feels much different. You slowly let go of the sheets, turning around. His hair is in disarray, baggy sweats covering him. Eyes bloodshot, skin paler than usual. Frightened as well, hand gripping the doorway, fingers almost digging into the wood. His body trembles, lip between his teeth as he stares.

"Yeosang?" Your voice is rough, eyes moist.

His smile is slight, swallowing slowly.

"Hi, pretty."

He steps inside, sliding his hand against the wall. He stops when he's on the far opposite wall, glancing around your room. It's in as much disarray as he looks. Clothes thrown everywhere, items in the wrong places. His eyes stay on the window briefly, the bars against it making his brows furrow for a moment, before relaxing.

"I heard about your friend."

You slowly nod, sinking into the mattress. "It hurts, Yeo."

"I know." His head tilts. "It must hurt plenty."

"Unbelievably so," you whisper, looking away from him. "I think… I should be used to hurting. It's happened for a while now. But everytime I think about it I just, I can't. I never got to say goodbye."

"You love her."

You force out a laugh, "Yeah, despite all of the shit I read. I can't help but still love her. I have so many questions I can't ask and it feels like… I don't know."

"A hole. One you can't ever fill because she's gone," he rests his hands above where his heart should be, blinking slowly. "And you relive the moment you last saw her over and over again in your head, trying to make sense of it all but you can't because grief is just too hard."

The familiar tightness in your chest twists inside of you as he speaks. He looks at you, understanding. You can't respond, a sob waiting to escape.

"Tell me where it hurts, pretty. You can point to it if you want."

You hover your hand over your chest, lightly resting it against your skin. Yeosang takes a slow step toward you. He's still trembling, one hand tucked into his pocket. He looks at you before he touches you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod, and he places his hand upon yours. It's quite cold in comparison to yours, the beating of your heart filling your ears.

Kang Yeosang slowly crouches in front of you, gaze and head moving to meet your eyes. "I'm here."

It's enough for the sob to leave your mouth, your hand entwining with his as you let go. You've found it so hard to walk through everyday, you dreaded the moments when you were alone. Your grief grew so heavy inside of you it felt as if you were becoming numb. But he says two words to you with such ease, and you fall apart.

It utterly terrifies you.

Hours must have passed, the exhaustion of your sadness guiding you back beneath your sheets. Yeosang does not dare touch you, but he stays just a couple of feet away, Head resting on his forearm as he watches you from your bed. Neither of you have said a word for quite a while now. You wonder if he is waiting for you to speak up, or will he do it on his own. There's several questions you'd like to ask, but now being with him, you no longer have the will to.

He adjusts himself in the cushion seat, pushing strands away from his forehead. "I could remember the first night that I lost Rose. I was inconsolable. All of them were too stricken with their own grief to help me with mine which I cannot blame. I starved myself over and over again to the brink of becoming solidified, but one of them fed me blood, enough to keep me alive. After about a decade or so… I expressed my grief in a way I hate to speak about. One that you witnessed not too long ago," His eyes shift to yours. "There is no right way to process it, but there are wrong ways. I have taken the wrong path more times than I can count. Sorry wouldn't work in a situation like this."

You can't speak up, the blood covered hall flashing in your memory. You've suppressed enough so that you're able to sleep, at least. "Do you often express extreme emotions this way?" You ask.

He covers his face with his hands. "I haven't in decades. This is… an outlier. I shouldn't have done it, but seeing you there in the midst of it all, it made me realize how far I've lost myself. I let my mind sink into the primal urges. I let myself get that bad, y/n. Forgiveness is not what I can ask of you, and neither could I tell their families I was the one who broke them." He swallows slowly. "I can remember their faces, the glimpses of fear. And it hurts to say that I cannot give much remorse because I know of what they've done. I know the lives that were lost because of their greed. Their faces are burned into my mind. Each and every life I took."

A pause.

"I am the monster I've always thought I was."

Comfort is not what you can offer in this situation, nor forgiveness. Trusting the judicial system is not something you believe in either, but neither is mass murder. You can only nod, shifting your eyes away from him. "You made a decision that you thought was right at the time. I cannot fault you for it." What the hell are you saying? He murdered people. You should be running out that door, not chatting it up. But all your mind could think of is helping him. Letting him know you're not giving up on him.

Perhaps he isn't the only monster in the room.

"I wish I could hate you," you confess. "I really wish I could sit here and say that I hate you and I want to never see you again. And I hate it even more that I can't. I can't hate you, Yeosang," you whisper. "You've lived a life you never wanted, you've done things because of it. It's inexcusable, but it's not surprising given the circumstances."

"y/n…" He starts, but you interrupt.

"All I can think about is that you're safe, Yeo. You're back, and you're safe. And I get to see you again. I don't know what to do about what you've done, but I'm just happy that you're here with me. That you didn't leave me."

"We're both a little fucked in the head, aren't we?"

You snort at the harsh words. “A little is an understatement.”

He leans back, staring at you. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, until he notices you look away, rubbing your arms. He closes his eyes, humming. “Mingi came to me. Told me to come back.”

“Where were you?”

His lip lifts, “At Rose’s grave. We don’t often visit it because of the harsh memories, but I like to. Gives me a chance to clear my head, think things through.”

“You can speak to the dead?”

He laughs, “No. I can speak to a stone though. She’s likely scolding us for how we’re acting.”

“Would she?”

He nods immediately. “No hesitation. She hated when we did stupid things, moreso things like this. I wouldn’t believe alive if she were here. She would…” he paused for a moment. “She would hate what we’ve done to you.”

Your smile fades the same time as his, the room shifting into a silence. It’s not as comfortable as before, his words forcing you to confront what’s happening right in front of you.

“She trusts him.”

“It was broken when she saw him hurt those people.”

“Was it really broken? Do you truly believe that she would ask for him to see her if it were true?”

“Then what do you want me to do, San? Stop them from seeing each other? I’ve done that endlessly, since the beginning. And it’s like it no longer matters because she will find a way to see him again. It’s just as it was before. Trying to separate them will only lead to her end. And I’m not sure if I can handle losing her again,” Wooyoung shakes his head slowly. “I’m not sure any of us could handle it again.”

“What do you propose?” San swallows slowly. Wooyoung doesn’t notice how San’s voice weakens a bit, glancing flicking up before looking back at him. “Joong isn’t going to be happy. He wants there to be difficulty in reconciling between them. But they’re inside chatting it up as if nothing happened.”

Wooyoung glances up from his spot on the bench, the curtains to your room closed. It’s been a while since Yeosang came back, the two of you inside the room for several hours now. Despite having the ability to listen he didn’t this time, knowing that it would hurt you even more. Getting on your good side is hard, but he’s willing to do whatever it takes. And if that means being unable to interfere with Yeosang, then so be it.

“I’m not going to do it.”

“Wooyoung…”

“San, I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t. She already hates me for doing it before.”

“Then this won’t change anything.”

Wooyoung slowly shakes his head, “San…”

“Do you expect her to just forgive you? She’s not going to forgive the man who destroyed her love’s life. You turned Yeosang, remember? You were the one who made him this way because of your jealousy. She saw it in her head. She won’t forget it.”

Wooyoung presses his hands over his ears, nails digging into his scalp. “San, please—”

“She won’t ever love you.”

“Stop!” Wooyoung stands, pushing past his friend and entering the house. He disappears within an instant, leaving him alone to stand outside. San’s express drops, fingers dragging through the loose strands that frame his face. His eyes flick up to Hongjoong’s balcony. Said man stands there, tending to a cigarette. His grin is wide as he looks at San, a light laugh escaping him.

San could only give him a pathetic smile back and enters the house a few seconds after Wooyoung.

The conversation with Yeosang ended there with him mumbling an excuse to leave. You confronted him just as he was about to go, your eyes asking if this were the last time you’d see him. He pressed his lips to your knuckles just then, a soft I won’t leave you anymore falling from his lips before he disappeared down the hall. And he kept his promise since then.

You left your room often now, the others roaming around the hallways. Vastly different from before, greetings exchanged, laughs echoed. It was as comfortable as it could be. You even laughed at something Jongho said to Mingi while they were arguing, and his eyes lit up at the sound. Sure, it was brief and you immediately shifted your gaze, but it was something to him. And if that was the beginning of you forgiving him, he was going to accept it.

Surprisingly, to everyone else and yourself, you slowly began speaking to Hongjoong. At first it was very brief, good mornings and goodnights in the beginning. But now, you let him sit beside you while a movie played in the living room. You even let him serve you dinner. Astonishing, the others knowing that his cooking skills were sub-par in comparison to so many of the other men. Hongjoong took it well, each step in your relationship seemed to build it closer to a good one.

You, of course, did not feel the same.

Each building block is a seed planted in his head. To bring you closer to him, so that he trusts you. Trust you enough to where you can get close.

Close enough to kill him.

The plan isn’t foolproof, you’re sure there’s a part of him that suspects it’s a ruse. There’s no forgetting the dozens of times you’ve told him that you would never be anything to him, that you’ll hate him as long as you live. But maybe if you go slow, if you let a few months pass, you’ll convince even him. It’s a long shot, no telling, but you have to try.

It’s been a couple of months now living with them. You thought you’d hate every moment being there, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. Your laughter and humor is real, the smiles you exchange with everyone are genuine. More often than not you remind yourself why you’re still there, what you’re doing. But most days you forget, enjoying your time spent with them. How easily have you fallen underneath their web.

“Another?” Mingi whines, scrolling through his calendar. “I thought we limited shows to Fridays only?”

“Unlike you,” Yunho wiggles his finger. “Some of us like to feed more than once a week.”

“Then I can stay?” his eyes brighten, only to be shut down by Hongjoong entering the room.

“No, you can’t. Jongho needs someone to guard with him and make sure things are okay while we’re feeding. And you stayed home with my sea last week.”

Mingi throws his head back in utter agony, pout deepening. You watch them, eating your apple. Wooyoung gave up on buying peaches and you’re more than thankful for his change of heart. Hongjoong leans against the wall, glancing at you. There’s something there, something you can’t quite decipher.

“But no one has fed in a while. Any of us,” San points out, glancing around the room. “We should all go.”

“You all can go,” Hongjoong says, shrugging. “I’ll stay with y/n. We have some things to discuss.”

The others look at you, questions in their eyes. You’ve immediately learned their different expressions. These are of worry, and confusion. You don’t trust Hongjoong, you never will… But you know he wouldn’t kill you. At least, not right now. You hope.

“Fine with me,” you continue to eat your snack. “I’ll see you all later, then?”

Mingi’s dragged out of the seat by Yunho, the others slowly disappearing to their designated rooms, getting dressed for the concert. Hongjoong lingers in the kitchen with you, humming. He opens the fridge, tsking at the lack of food inside. “I told Seonghwa to go shopping.”

“No big deal,” you murmur. “I’ll be going out soon enough with him. It was supposed to be today, but I guess it’ll happen tomorrow.” The others pass by again, waving goodbye as they leave. Eventually the two of you are alone, Hongjoong exiting the kitchen.

“Didn’t you want to speak to me about something?” you ask just as he’s about to disappear down the hallway. He glances back, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to be alone with you. A bit greedy, that’s all,” he flicks his brows up, waving goodbye. “Have a good night, my sea.” With that, he exits, leaving you alone in the kitchen. It's an open invitation to follow.

One that you take.

You close the door behind you to his room. You haven't entered it at all. It's similar in size to everyone else's, his bed slighter larger in comparison, a balcony just a few steps away from it. He moves quickly, pressing you against the door frame. Your breath hitches, his lips trailing along the back of your neck.

“Do you even like me?”

Hongjoong’s hand slides up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He turns you around. He rests just below your cheek, tilting your head towards him so as to guide your gaze to his. Despite how warm his eyes look, you can see the tightness in his jaw, the resolute tilt of his lips. He blinks slowly, humming as his thumb trails along your face. “Shall I slay every person who has ever looked at you with disdain to prove it?”

You laugh, though knowing the truth behind his words. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would in fact listen if you asked him to do so. But you play it off as if he’s facetious, shaking your head. “I asked if you liked me, not for you to murder in my name.”

“I would give you anything, my sea. Of course I like you.”

You wonder if he believes his own words.

“I’m just waiting for you to say you like me.”

“Unlikely,” you snort, placing your hand on his. You hear his breath hitch, eyes flicking to your touch. You never noticed how easily it was to make him off balance, lose his nonchalance. There has been endless doubt on how much you afflicted Hongjoong, but there is little now. You would just have to persuade him that you do care, even if it is a mere fraction of his. With that in mind you move yourself off the door and walk to the mattress, ignoring the beating of your heart, nerves coating your palms as you wipe them against your thighs. You sit on the edge, his speed quickly. In a moment, he's sitting on the edge with you.

Hongjoong watches you in curious silence. Just as he’s about to leave forward, you lift your leg, straddling him. He looks up at you in mild surprise, lips parting and shutting. Leaving Kim Hongjoong astounded? Perhaps you are good at this manipulation game.

You lean forward, palms resting on either side of his face. Just a breath apart. You stare at his face, taking in each part of him. The scar of his brow, the light moles adorning his skin. The soft curve of his lips. He is beautiful, no doubt.

“I do like you, Kim Hongjoong. Despite how out of your mind you are.”

His hands go to rest on your thighs, lids heavy as he stares at you. His smile rises, gaze now on your lips. “I’ve lived with you for many lives. Each one different from the next. I’ve known your soul longer than you've known yourself. It's fairly easy to know when you’re being deceitful.”

You ignore how your body shivers as his hands travel to your hips, squeezing slightly. It’s a game he’s played for thousands of years, while you’ve only known him for less than a percentage of that. But one thing you do know: you are his weakness.

“How can I prove it?” You ask, leaning closer. Your nose brushes against Hongjoong, a shuddered breath escaping his lips. His grip tightens on your hips, pressing you harshly against him. He presses against your lower stomach, hard against your softer skin.

“You tell me.”

"Have you ever…?" You trail off.

He rolls his eyes. "I've fucked before, love. Just never with you. Something always seemed to get in the way. You dying, mostly. But I have never made love." His lip brushes against your forehead.

"I don't love you," You murmur, and he only laughs.

"Even you aren't a good enough liar to convince me otherwise. But all I ask is one thing from you." He watches your gaze, hand dragging along your body, before touching your face. “I want you to be mine,” his fingers release your chin, slowly wandering along the outline of your jaw.

“All yours?” you breathe.

“Mine,” he agrees with a whisper so low that you feel it all the way down to your pelvis. His hand suddenly slips downward to firmly grasp the back of your neck, pressure light. “Let me be yours.” The feelings that stir in you now as his head tilts to the side and he wets his bottom lip are separate from anything that may be fearful — and that’s the thought that terrifies you. There’s no use in saying that you’re not attracted to him; you always have been. The realization that you're beneath him now, after so long of resisting and fighting the temptation — you can’t deny the frantic pounding of your heart. And you wouldn't be able to fib in the slightest, Hongjoong can feel it as it goes anyway.

“You’ve tortured me for so long,” he leans closer to you, free hand resting on the side of your body, trapping you beneath him. “I have to admit that I’m shocked to see you beneath me this way. Is this unwanted?” he asks softly, eyes flicking between yours. “Despite my desires, I wouldn’t want this to be forced.”

You have an agenda. And a small part of you feels as if he might know what it is. But the way he’s looking at you now, a glimmer of hope shines beneath it.

“No,” you reply. With that, he takes your mouth with his own. His soft lips press ardently against yours, desire spilling each time he slightly pulls away. Your hands slide into his hair, body relaxing into the mattress. You part your lips, his tongue seeking out yours whilst he grabs a hold of your thigh to drag both your legs closer to him He lies himself on top of you, and all the while his darkened eyes never once leave yours, his jaw tensed but breathing heavy.

As Hongjoong delves back in, his tongue rolls inside your mouth and he lets out a low-pitched groan, your body arching up into his palm that begins to fondle your breast through your shirt. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging harshly as his hand grips the top of your shirt. Fabric rips and exposes your bra, he scoops your breast from the cup, a relieved sigh escaping him.

“You're so soft.”

“Joong,” you whimper, front teeth sinking deep into your lip, fingers grabbing at the soft white cotton that covers his shoulders.

Hongjoong's face lightens up at the sound of his name escaping your lips, dipping to his head to encircle the entirety of your nipple with his mouth. He sucks, gently circling his tongue around and smiling when you moan.

His warm hand reaches for the opposite side of your chest and cups you, switching his mouth to the other, biting and tugging. Just as you're about to say his name again he presses himself into you, his hardness pushing harshly into your pelvis. He doesn’t stop sucking until you're twisting on the bed.

“In awe," you hear him say. You meet his eyes, “You haven't the slightest inkling how long I've waited for you, my sea. I wish I could spend all night with you. Unfortunate that you have to be somewhere in the morning.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Where—"

He interrupts, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head, hand only giving a slight tug to your pants, the tear echoing through the air as he tosses them to the side. You could only pout, your pile of fabric, one of your favorite sleepwears.

"I'll give you the world, y/n. No need to worry about a couple of pieces of clothing." Unlike the others you have been with, his touch is softer, slowly rubbing the plushness of your thighs, lips trailing delicate, wet kisses against the skin.

“Please,” you moan softly, peering down. Hongjoong looks up with a devilish curl to his lips, his smile to die for.

“Yes?” he replies, mock innocence coating his gaze.

“Please touch me, Joong.”

After having fought against Hongjoong’s yearning for you for close to a year, it feels more than off to let these words escape your lips. Your body is practically on display beneath him, his lids heavy with lust as they take you in. He seems to enjoy the moment differently than you, for many reasons you'd rather not dwell on for long. Hee slides it down to the middle of your legs, hot breath tickling your skin. You can feel how your underwear clings to you because of your arousal, almost forgotten from how his eyes seem to want to take you apart.

“All for me?” he groans as his fingertips slip into you, pressing kisses to the angle of your jaw. “So wet.” Hongjoong traces the outline of you, brushing teasingly over your clit. “I must admit, it feels good knowing this is all for me.”

You say nothing, only meeting his eyes with want in your gaze. He licks his lips, head tilting slightly as he stares at you.

“I know, my sea. I always knew.”

He knows nothing.

He hooks his finger on the fabric lining your hips, a quick tug ripping it with ease. You throb at the act. His body pressed to yours and his fingers hovering so close to you —

How easy it is to succumb to him.

"I've been waiting centuries, lovely," Hongjoong whispers against your skin. "It's made me a bit needy, you know. But I need to know if you want me as I want you. y/n," his hand raises to your face, tilting it so that you meet his gaze. "Do you want me?"

Making the decision to go through with this, to let him take you now — some part of you knows it isn't the wisest decision. It will only make your choice of killing him more difficult down the line. But if this is what it takes to have Hongjoong believe your every word, you'll do it. An even smaller part of you knows that despite everything, you want this. You want him. It feels as if hours have passed of your silence, Hongjoong neither getting closer to the center of you or moving his hand from your face. He waits patiently, just as he has waited for a time incomprehensible to you.

"I want you, Kim Hongjoong."

You see the shift in his gaze in an instant. His brown irises slowly fade, eyes glistening over to a pure white. The sight doesn't scare you as much as it entices you. If you weren't in the heat of the moment you'd scold yourself at how ridiculous you're being.

His fingers slowly rub circles into your clit, pressure increases each time he makes each round. Your hips grind into the movements, a silent plea for him to pick up the pace. He doesn't of course, the devilish grin of his widening as he studies you. You've noticed that he's rarely ever left your gaze, as if memorizing this moment, solidifying this as your choice. And it is, in the end. He's asked several times if you want him. If it's a manipulation technique you aren't the wiser.

You feel his middle finger slip next to the first, lightly squeezing your clit, picking up speed and you let out a low moan, head tipping back, finally breaking the stare.

"All for me," he whispers. "Don't hide your moans from me, my sea. I know it feels good, yeah. Want more?" One of his fingers slips down, dragging around the outline of your entrance. He dips it in barely a centimeter, a stifled laugh escaping him when he sees you clench. "Do you?"

“Please.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers back up to your clit, pressing down, hard. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to control the sounds he pulls from you.

"Ah ah," He moves it away, pressing his lips to your fingers briefly. "If I could listen to the others take you, they can listen to us. They all hear us, you know. Amplified hearing comes with the territory."

Despite how your heart races, you clench at the thought of the others listening, Hongjoong's gaze flicking between your legs.

"Oh, you enjoy that, huh? Enjoy us listening to you have sex with someone else, thinking about us coming to your moans with someone else's cock inside of you?" He presses his lips against your stomach. "Wooyoung and Mingi like it the most. They're probably touching themselves right now listening to us." You clench again. "How filthy of my pretty sea."

"Joong—"

He slips two fingers inside of you. "Tsk, so impatient."

Hongjoong is halfway down the sofa, face placed between your legs. Palms flat against the inside of your thighs to spread you wide, his nose dug deep into, a cry escaping from your throat when his mouth covers your clit. You feel his tongue circle it slowly, your fists tightening. The pleasure is all-encompassing — he sucks noisily at the sensitive nub, your fists unclenching and finding themselves in his hair, pushing him closer into you.

He licks at you hungrily, your gaze flicking to his free hand slipping inside his own pants. “Fuck…” he whispers against you, diving back in as soon as the word leaves his mouth. He groans, the flat of his tongue pressed to your entrance as his face slowly rocks from side to side.

“Please,” the feeling of him takes over, your hips rising to meet each swipe of his tongue. The impending release is near, enough so that you’re not able to warn him. Your body trembles, your fingers gripping his hair so tightly you’re sure you’ve pulled out a few strands, his tongue continuing to lap at your core. It starts to linger into the range of oversensitivity, your hands pulling away from his hair and instead, hips moving away from his tongue. He chases you, pushing himself deeper into you.

“I can’t—” you say, but the words seem to go into one ear and out the other. He continues to lick, lips wrapped around your clit. He refuses to let go even as you lean up, his hands gripping your thighs, unmoving. “Hongjoong—” your eyes finally meet his.

They’re completely white as they stare at you. You can see the lift of his cheeks, smiling into you as he sucks. His hands move from your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer into his mouth. He lifts it for just a moment, enough to say one word. “No.”

The break is brief. Hongjoong covers your clit with his plush lips once more, sucking hard. He continues like this for over a minute, watching as tears stain your cheeks. The oversensitivity slowly molds into pleasure, your hips humping against his mouth. Your chest rises and falls, your peak coming much quicker this time. He pushes three fingers into you in an instant, a scream escaping you. He chuckles into you, his mouth finally away from your clit.

“Come for me, my sea. I want to see you come again for me,” he whispers. He doesn’t touch your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you with abandon, the sounds echoing around the room. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

You feel the pads of his fingers touch the spot inside of you, your breath hitching. He keeps them there, rubbing quickly against the rough patch. In an instant your thighs clasp his hand within you, humping violently as you lose yourself. He leans against your stomach, resting his head against your plush skin, watching you.

“Never thought you would be prettier, but look at you. Coming all over me, fucking my fingers.”

You can’t respond to his words, eyes closed as you try to come down from your high. He pulls his fingers out, the sound of him sucking them alluring, but not enough to open your eyes. He pulls you closer to him, finger dragging back to your clit. You pull back in an instant, eyes flicking open. He laughs, grin stretching across his cheeks.

“Already done?”

“Too much…” you swallow. He moves away from your clit at your words, placing his hand just above your chest where your heart lies. He moves up from your legs, head falling on the mattress, eyesight steady with yours. Despite how blown out his eyes are, despite how you can clearly see how aroused he is by the hardness pressed against your upper thigh, he hums, expression softening.

“Okay?” he whispers. For some reason the way he’s looking at you, the love in his eyes… it bothers you. Not because it’s ingenuine, you can see how real the look is. It terrifies you that the look calms you down, settles your heart. That you yearn for him to look at you again just as softly, as kind.

The voice deep in the back of your mind telling you that this wasn’t the smartest idea.

But of course, you ignore it. Out of selfishness or greed, you're not too sure. Hongjoong’s fingers stroke your cheek, humming when you lean into his touch. “You’re pretty,” he murmurs, thumb wiping the tear that falls down. “Even when you cry.”

He leans forward, lips covering yours. The touch is softer, you can feel the emotion he draws into it, tongue lightly flicking yours, the taste of you filling your mouth. Suddenly it’s sweeter, almost strawberry like as you continue to kiss. You don’t notice how you suddenly take the lead, sucking his lips, entering his mouth. He giggles at your movements, hands moving to pull your hips closer against his.

“Taste good?” he pulls away, laughing.

Your cheeks warm when you’ve realized what you’ve done, pulling away. A string of saliva parting your lips. He pecks you quickly, head back against the sheets. “Hm?”

Realizing he asked you a question, you furrow your brows. “How’d you do that?”

His eyes roll, “I’m a vampire, I can do anything I’d like.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You frown, and his laugh is even louder.

“And yet here you are,” he moves from his spot to hover over you. He’s pulled off his pants and briefs before you’ve realized it, the length of him resting against your stomach. He grinds it lightly into you, lip between his teeth. “Here you are under me, wanting me.” Holding himself up with one hand, he uses the other to squeeze himself, the sight making your mouth water.

“Thought you were done?” his brows raise, amusement coating his expression. “Unless you want more?” He moves away from you, sliding off the bed. He holds his cock in his hand, languidly stroking it as he stares at you. “Want to taste me?”

Your eyes flick up from his movements to look at his face. His brow raised, he waits for a response. Seemingly unable to respond, he moves closer, body leaning over so he’s directly in your line of sight. “I said, do you want to taste me, my sea?”

You nod, and he moves even closer, hand cupping your chin. You open your mouth now, “I do.”

He nods, letting go. “Go ahead.”

He moves slowly, steps closer and closer to you. Though he seems to be calm, you can see the way eagerness lines his features. He pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the side. You notice a few scars and tattoos on his body, a belly button piercing shining at you in the lower light. His fingers wrap around the base. He’s longer than you thought, but not as thick as you’ve once experienced. Still, your mouth can’t help but water.

“Open, pretty,” he murmurs. You open your mouth slightly, jaw lax. He rests his head against your lips, bending his cock toward you. He lets it sit there for a moment, his breaths heavy, precum coating your lips. His eyes stare at your mouth as he finally enters your mouth inch by inch, moaning when he finally enters. He continues, stopping when you gag. He twitches against your tongue, your eyes watering as you look up at him. His eyes seem to be glossed over, holding your head as he moves out. He moves slowly, in and out, hips rocking back and forth between your lips. You suck and lick, guarding your teeth to make sure you don’t hurt him, the weight of him against your tongue and angling your throat so that he can enter even more.

He groans, speed increasing. “You take me so well, look so good with my cock in your mouth.” Hongjoong pushes your head against him, your nose pressed to his pubic bone. He moves back a bit as you choke, whispering okays and telling you you’re taking him so well. Your hands wrap around his thighs as he fucks your mouth, your throat burning. You feel yourself clenching around nothing. He moves quicker, grinding into your mouth. Your hand reaches down to touch yourself.

He pulls out immediately, grabbing your wrist gently. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Only I get to touch you my sea.” He lets go, lightly nudging you back against the sheets. “Ready for me.”

“Fuck, yes,” you utter, and he only laughs.

“Scream loud for me, so the others know you’re being cared for well,” he grins. Hongjoong’s hips move forward into you without hesitation. Just as a moan tries to escape, he wraps his hand around your throat. His eyes stay on yours, looking to see if you’re uncomfortable. But all he sees is your eyes rolling back, his excitement increasing. He presses his lips against your cheek, moving to the side of your face, just next to your ear.

“Feel good, pretty? You like me inside of you, like me making love to you,” he bites your earlobe, pulling away. “You feel so good, so relaxed for me. Perfect.” Hongjoong eases himself out to slowly to sink back in, moving at a slower pace, the witch of his cock as it glides between your walls. “I’ve waited so long for this, Ca… y/n.”

His hips stutter as he gradually builds speed, grunting each time your hips collide. You reach for anything, deciding on wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He doesn’t resist, his chest pressed against yours, lips meeting one another’s. You’re too consumed with pleasure to notice the slip of tongue. He drives his cock into you, angling his hips directly at your g-spot. He releases your throat, one of his hands reaches for the headboard, driving into you harder, ”You take it so well.”

“Please,” your fingers dig into the back of his neck, piercing his skin. His eyes shift, darkening. The frame of the bed begins to bang loudly against the wall as his speed and force increases. He lets go of the board, gripping your hips and pulling them into each thrust of his. He fucks you harder, hip bones digging into your thighs. He swipes your hand away when you try to rub your clit. Shaking his head.

“You can come without touching yourself.”

“I can’t,” you cry out, trying to reach again. He tsks, pushing it away.

“Come from my cock only, y/n. I know you can do it.”

Your head tips back, the burning of your clit, begging to be touched. You focused on how he feels, how his cock drags against your walls. Just as you think you’re unable to do it, Hongjoong leans forward, teeth grazing your neck.

“Maybe I can help you out, want me to help you out, pretty? Want me to taste you?” His tongue drags against your pulsing vein. You nod without knowing what exactly he means, until his teeth sink into your flesh. You gasp from pain and pleasure,

The head of his cock pushes harshly into you as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips over and over as your orgasm takes over you, you clawing at his biceps in an attempt to hold yourself together. Hongjoong licks your wound, pulling away from you, breaths ragged.

Before you can come down from your high, in a matter of seconds the head of Hongjoong’s cock is inside you once more and you’re being fucked into the mattress, the movement of his hips frantic enough that you know you’ll be sore for several days.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong groans, snapping against you and making you bounce. “Want my come, pretty? Want me to come inside of you?” Hongjoong moans at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“Please, Hongjoong, please,” you gasp.

You hear him groan in response to your words as he presses his chest into yours, and all the while he continues to push inside of you you can feel his cock beginning to throb. His movements begin to falter, his breath heavy against your neck and you screw your eyes shut even tighter as you rock your hips upwards from underneath him to push him to new depths, urging him on. “Joong, please come. ”

“My sea,” he pants as his thrusts become shallow and hurried, his fingertips digging into the mattress to anchor himself, “Fuck.”

Finally, Hongjoong comes,, his hips pressing into you and then staying right there, buried deep within you. His fingers relax slightly from around your throat to allow you to drag in a deep, ragged breath, but Hongjoong keeps his hold. Chest still heaving against yours, you feel his lips come into contact with your cheek to press a soft kiss there, nuzzling your cheekbone for just a second before uttering into your ear.

“Look at me, my sweet sea.”

Your eyes open. His smirk is wide now, eyes crazed. You remember this exact look, one from the visions that you've seen. The one where Rose died beneath Jongho’s hands. Anxiety begins to rattles your body, the cloud of lust seeping away as it only seems to grow more sinister. He leans close to your ear, his soft lips brushing against the skin. It is only six words, but it brings the fear up too high for you to ignore.

"I know."

The stifling hot room suddenly grows colder.

"I know you lied."

His hand slowly wraps around your neck, fingers pressing into the flesh. It’s not enough to cause you to stop breathing, but enough so that you start to panic as he stares down at you. He does a test squeeze once, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

“Hongjoong—”

“Why would you try to trick me, my sea?” His brows furrow, hurt etched into his features. “Lead me on to think that somewhere deep inside of you, you cared for me? Why plant a fallacy in my mind? Why make me suffer?” He shakes his head. You feel his thumb press into the base of your neck, nail slowly digging. He hasn’t pierced your skin yet, but it’s close. “Speak.”

“To convince you—”

“To convince me that you care?” He finishes, and you nod. “I know you don’t care for me, y/n. I’ve known with each thrust, each moan of my name. I know what you look like when you make love, y/n. And I know what you’ve just done was anything but that,” he leans closer, his tongue dragging along your collarbone. “I know because I saw the others with you. They aren’t the only ones who enjoy the show,�� he grins.

“You weren’t there—”

He agrees, humming, “I wasn’t. The good thing about turning, though. Their thoughts are no longer their own, their eyes are mine. I saw everytime someone entered you,” he lets his free hand cup your center, “I felt what they felt.” He slips a finger inside of you, “I saw your eyes roll back for them—” he moves it slowly, squeezing your throat tighter “—I saw you each time you lost yourself in them. Yunho,” he slips in another finger. “Mingi, oh that one was interesting—” his pace increases. “Wooyoung… poor him, he couldn’t even watch.”

He adds two more fingers within an instant, “And how could I forget the last one? Your Yeosang, your pretty, pitiful Yeosang. He’s always wanted you so badly, always wants to save you…” Hongjoong thumb rubs your clit, pace quickening. “He can’t even save himself…”

The door to the room opens, Hongjoong not bothering to turn around to see who it is.

“I didn’t ask you to come in,” Hongjoong hums, pulling his fingers out of you. He grabs the blanket on the side, covering your body with it, hand letting go of your neck. Your chest rises and falls, moving your gaze around him to see who's entered.

San and Yeosang stand there. It's too dark to see what they're wearing, but you're pretty sure it's the outfits from the concert tonight. Has time passed that quickly? You can still feel his fingers around your neck, anger between his words. If they didn't come in… if you weren't so involved… you're not too sure you would have lived.

Yeosang moves closer first, "You're going too far, hyung."

He leans up from the bed, not bothering to cover himself up. San lingers just behind Yeosang, eyes glued to your neck.

"Sad you couldn't join? I never interrupted the two of you, you should give me the same consideration."

"You were killing her, you were going to kill her." Yeosang looks at you, brows furrowed. "I wouldn't let you do that."

He stands, rolling his eyes. He grabs his briefs from the side, slowly pulling it up and over himself. "I was having fun, not killing her. The two of you need to relax a bit. Why would I dare hurt my sea?"

"The blood in her mouth? We can see it on her lips, Hongjoong. We aren't that ignorant."

You wipe your lips, staring at the blood coating your fingers when you pull away. You don't even remember when exactly he did it, or how. Was he going to kill you? Were you so filled with arousal you didn't even think about what was happening? Was that the sweet taste in your mouth? His blood? Your stomach turns at the thought. Hongjoong looks back at you. His white pupils are gone. replaced with the familiar brown. He raises his brow, tongue dragging across his lips. It's there where you see the cut in it.

"Tastes just like strawberries, doesn't it?"

The thought of his blood in your mouth makes you gag, rises from the sheets. You hold the blanket against you, reaching for the water bottle on the side table. Hongjoong grabs it before you do, taking a long drink, emptying it.

"Fuck you!" You yell, anger rising.

"y/n…" San moves closer to you. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

You grab your shirt and slip it over your body, hands trembling against the fabric. San helps you, picking up your sweats from the floor and passing it to you. Yeosang moves closer to Hongjoong, fists tightened.

"You were going to kill her, just like that."

"Don't start to give me a fucking martyr speech, Yeosang. You don't even care about her."

"You—"

Hongjoong reaches out, gripping Yeosang's neck. He slams him against the wall behind him, a scream leaving your mouth. San stands in front of you, hiding your body with his. He looks at Hongjoong with concern, "Hey, isn't this too much—"

"The two of you are a pair, aren't you?" Hongjoong frowns, "So hopelessly involved with y/n. At least she likes Yeosang. She barely even knows San. And here he is, fucking protecting her as if she loves him. As if she cares if he died."

The others soon appear at the door, crowding into the room. The wall behind Yeosang cracks as Hongjoong presses him deeper into it.

"Please stop," you beg, trying to get closer. San holds you back, preventing you from interfering. "He's just trying to protect me."

"If you didn't have Rose's soul he would not give a shit about you, my sea," Hongjoong looks at you, head tilted. "Your soul already saw him die once, it shouldn't matter if you see it happen again."

Yeosang looks down at him, fingers digging into Hongjoong’s hand. Eyes red, denying his words with the curl of his lips. "You'll never understand love, Joong. That's your problem."

"Enlighten me then, my friend."

Yeosang's eyes move to you, softening with such ease it breaks your heart. "Everyone knows I loved Rose, loved her more than she loved me, surely," his eyes flick back to his captain's. "And I loved her Hongjoong. I loved her with everything that I had, and I could barely function when she was gone." His voice breaks, eyes flicking between his. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be able to love again. She was my first love, but y/n…" His eyes move to yours, softening. The look only makes your heart crumble even more. "She is my greatest."

Your hold on San's arm loosens at his words. You love him. You've loved him, with every part of you. You love him to the brink of fear, afraid of the unknown.

"How sweet…"

He lets Yeosang go, wiping his hands on his underwear. He glances at the others around the room, frowning. "I wasn't going to kill either of them."

"Let's go, y/n," San whispers, slipping his hand into yours. Yeosang catches his breath on the floor. He lifts his head to meet yours. As if telling you everything is alright. That he's okay. San tugs again, and you follow him out the room, parting the small crowd that formed in the doorway.

"Do you know if she truly loved you?" It's an appalling question, one that would throw them for a loop. It seems to leave Seonghwa speechless, mouth parting to speak, closing again. "Did she love you?"

It's been over a day since the incident, Hongjoong moving around as if nothing happened. Yeosang does as well, not mentioning it at all. It was enough of a headache for you to ask Seonghwa for a break. The house feels more stuffy than usual. You sit in the park not too far from their business, swinging your legs back and forth. It was silent while you walked here, but you couldn't help but ask. They love her so dearly, so much. You doubt she felt half of what they did.

"She said she did, she told us she did. Why are you asking?"

"Because if this is the way you express that you love someone, I'm not so sure that she did. If she taught you how to love, this isn't love, Seonghwa."

"I feel like if it was anyone but you telling me this, I'd be furious," he admits, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. "If I may be forward, why do you think so?"

"I don't know," you purse your lips. "I don't know how it was for you back then, how the world was. Maybe my thoughts are more modern in comparison, but I don't think love wants to force you into this mold. If we're humans and you told me you wanted to become this, I think I would be upset for a bit, but I wouldn't tell you to stay a human because I want you to. Though back then, monsters were more of a real thought rather than folklore. I don't think it means that I wouldn't care, it just means that despite it all, I believe you'll still be the person I care for."

You glance at him, leaving out the obvious afterthought. This form changed them. You're sure that Rose died because of their choices. Because they changed. And not in a good way. Their "love" twisted into something unrecognizable, cruel, obsessive, greedy. Dangerous. Subin’s descriptions were mild in comparison to how they actually are. How could Wooyoung just kill Yeosang with ease? Hongjoong almost injuring Yeosang, attempting to turn you?

"I'm very careful when I tell someone I love them. Because for me it is an admittance that my care for you has no bounds, that with everything we will go through I will fight my hardest to make it work. I will stick by you. And I don't feel that way for most of you."

It's a lie, it's a filthy, dirty lie, but you let yourself say it anyway.

He nods slowly. His fingers slowly fold, legs crossed. "It is all a pity, then. I tried my hardest for you, doe. But it seems to be a moot end. I promised them that you would admit your love for us. Stubbornness has always been your strong suit, no matter how many years have passed by. I wanted to save you."

You look around the park. It's quieter in comparison to before. Swings empty, older couples gone. Not one soul, not even a bird chirping. It's eerie in itself. You turn to him, and he looks at you with sorrow.

"One word was all I needed."

You stand up, chest rising and falling quickly. "Hwa—"

"It's calming. Different in comparison to how we turned Rose. I hope you understand that this was a unanimous decision, doe. All of us thought this was the best way to keep you from running away."

He stands and you hold up your hands, shaking your head. "This isn't the way to get what you want, Seonghwa. Repeating the past isn't the way, you know that."

He tilts his head, a light pout decorating his lips. "This is me saving you. Can't you see it?"

You ignore his words, turning around. The closest place is the club just across the street. The one they own. Hiding is the last thing you want to do, but there’s nothing else. Maybe there’s something left over from the fight they had there weeks ago. If you could find your way through the hallways and into the back — maybe there’s a chance you can save yourself. Maybe there’s a way out.

"I'll give you a headstart, doe. At least give you some hope. Go ahead," he nods.

You don't hesitate. Your legs move quick as you run across the empty street. The door to the club is open and you enter, locking it behind you. A part of you wonders why you don't question it, but fear drives you now. You run into a side room, grabbing a knife that Subin left hidden, just before they came to save you last time.

"This will kill them," Subin says to you, dragging his finger along the blade. "It is made from the metal that killed their first love. Hongjoong would be much harder to trick, but I'm sure you can do it."

You stare at it, shaking your head. "Subin, I don't think—"

"Start thinking then, y/n. You won't be free. Not unless you accept their obsession with you, or kill them yourself. Your soul will continue to be stuck in the same perpetual nightmare. You have to stop it. You have to, y/n." His brows soften. "For every iteration of you that has died. Do it for them. Do it for you."

It's the first note that makes you stop what you're doing. You hold the knife in your hands, your grip loosening as you stare out into the hallway.

The familiar tune of the piano. Despite the name of the club you've rarely heard it — the group is a rock band, of course. So hearing the soft melody of Clair de lune echo in the dark is more than what you expect. It's a beautiful song despite this circumstance. You used to love it until this very moment — were they here the entire time? Have they watched your every move once you left Seonghwa in the park?

Were you ever truly alone?

The echo of your shoes add to the music, hushed breaths. There's no use in trying to control them, they know you're here just as you know they are.

"Must we play this game with you?"

You stop moving, gaze glued to the darkness. Your fear overrides your sense of the moment. Who was it that spoke?

"Why run? Is it not beautiful for there to be people who already love you as you are? Why would you try to escape love that is unconditional?"

Still, your mind seems unable to figure out who exactly it is. Is it some sort of talent they have, disguising their voices? Luring you deeper into the darkness? You stop moving.

"Pretty, we already know you're there. No need to try and hide."

Pretty? There's doubt that Yeosang would scare you this way, but it isn't impossible. Not after what you've witnessed at that restaurant.

"What can we do to convince you to stay?"

"Let me go," you whisper. "Finally let me go." Clair de lune rises in volume, your heartbeat throbbing in your ears. "Find someone else to love you. I will never be her."

"You are her, my sweet doe. And you always will be."

Doe? Is it Seonghwa instead? Footsteps catch your attention. They're at the far end of the hallways, slowly ascending, closer and closer to you. Risking waiting for whoever leaves the darkness isn't wise. You know that it'll only lead someone to you back in their home. Back in their arms. You slide the knife back into its place, quickly turning on your heels. You haven't had the chance to explore the club, too engrossed in them to figure out every nook and cranny. You push open a door, locking it behind you quickly. Just as you turn around, your stomach falls.

“What are you?” You say softly.

“It’s easy to guess,” Yunho shrugs.

“Shows at night. Hwa drinking blood, our cold skin. Points to only one thing.”

“We're vampires.”

It's the same room you met them. The velvety couches, the bucket of cell phones on the back table. You were full of life back then, though afraid you stood your ground. And now here you are, back in the same place as before. Will it ever end? Is this a sign that no matter what, you will always follow the same path? Your fingers brush against the knife.

Should you end it here?

"I won't let that happen again, doe," Seonghwa enters the room, hands tucked in his pockets. He moves closer and closer to your frozen figure, hand slipping down your side, pulling the knife away. He stares at it for a moment, worried expression hardening. "Who gave this to you?"

"Subin."

His eyes narrow, grip tightening. The silver bends with ease in his hands, crushed in his palm. He sighs, eyes closing for a moment. "It was the knife that killed Rose, y/n."

“Hwa, what did you do—”

“Do you think I’d allow you to hurt yourself? I said we were going to save you, and you try to do something like this?” He sighs. “We’re trying to protect you the best we can—”

“This is not protecting, Seonghwa. Both you and I know you. I expected things to be different with you. I thought you changed.” Was everything a lie? Every step of the way to get you here, in front of him, about to die?

Are you just that stupid?

“What do you want us to do? Let you die, again? We’ve already done that, y/n. I can’t wait another one hundred years for us to go through the same routine.”

“You’re selfish—”

He laughs, combing his fingers through his hair. “And what if I am, hm? It doesn’t matter; once I turn you, once you become one of us… I can make you forget.”

The same blank look in Yeosang’s eyes.

You back up away from him, gaze resting on yours. It’s not sorrowful in the slightest. It’s settling within you; you expected this eventually. The contemptment, the resignation. He will kill you. You’re not leaving this room without spilling blood. “You never believed I loved you, Seonghwa,” you whisper, back against the wall as he moves to you. “After all this time, you’ve never believed it. But I have.”

“Don’t lie,” he mumbles.

“I did love you, so much. Why do you think I’ve often come to you? I trusted you, Seonghwa. I knew you cared about me, not just my soul. It’s pathetic, really, how much I relied on someone that would go against me in the end. It’s even more pathetic that I’m not angry with you. I’m just sad.”

He shakes his eyes, fists tightening. “You’re allowed to be angry.”

“But I can’t be. I don’t think either Rose or myself was ever really angry with you.”

"You will never lose me."

You can barely make out his words, his fingers digging into yours, light sobs falling from his lips. You hold in yours, letting your forehead rest against his. It feels as if you're mourning him when he is right in front of you. The fleeting wish of knowing him sooner so that you may have spent time with him as he is now crosses your mind. And with horror, the small thought of you living as them so you can know them longer lingers.

"I love you ever so much, Seonghwa," you say. "And I will not make you listen to what I want. If this will make you happy, then I will accept your decision."

Seonghwa presses his palms against his temples, his last sincere moment with you crumbling.

“I would not have asked anyone else to be here with me when I die, Seonghwa. Please let me go.” Rose’s blood spilling onto his clothing, between his fingers. His cries echoing around the ship's chambers.

“y/n, please,” he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Your finger slips into the hole in the wall, the cold metal of a knife resting there feels against your fingertips. Seonghwa’s back is turned to you, and you quickly pull it out, gripping the handle. Despite the fear that overwhelms you, consumes you, you do it anyway. You press it into your chest.

Exactly where the birthmark of the scar is.

The smell of blood hits him before he sees it. The pain is overbearing, your hand dropping from the handle, body limping forward, almost touching the floor. The sound of the door slamming open, wood splitting at the force. The warm touch of hands catching you just before you fall. His grip is tight, blood sputtering from your lips as you look at him.

"No, no…" His grip on your shirt is tight. You're used to the mirrored emotions, the fakeness dripping from his expression. It's nothing like now. The way he holds you, his face pressed against the fabric of your soaked shirt, sobs escaping his lips. Despite the loss of blood, despite it all, you feel your own heart breaking.

"You have to let me go, Joong," you can’t say it of course, the pain too overwhelming to speak through. "You have to."

“I can’t…” he utters. A cold touch of hands pulls you into his lap, Hongjoong letting you go. You can’t quite tell what’s happening around you, but you hear shouting, furniture breaking. Your vision begins to blur, fingers holding you close to their body. His hand covering your mouth, whispering soft words to you. You don’t feel tears against your skin, but you can feel how he holds you, hands trembling. You just wish that you knew who it was.

The knife is slowly sliding out of your chest, the pain enough to make you lose consciousness within an instant.

“It worked.”

“I told you it would.”

“Fuck off, San.”

“Why are you arguing in front of her? Hey pretty peach, it’ll be alright.”

“Still calling her a peach, after everything?”

“You know what-”

You gasp, leaning forward. Hands stop you from moving too quietly, soft words comforting you for the moment. Your eyes flick around, brows furrowed. Mingi, San, Yunho… Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho… You continue to circle through the men, one missing. Just as you begin to ask, your head turns to the side. Wooyoung holds you up steady, a sweet smile on his lips. He brushes loose hairs away from your cheek, humming softly.

“You okay, pretty peach?”

You nod slowly, looking down at your hands. They’re free of blood. Wait, should they be covered in blood? “What happened?” you ask.

“One of the attendees at the concert took some bad shit, and you drank from them. It hit you pretty hard and you passed out, but everything is alright now. You’re okay,” Mingi says, nudging Yunho. “I told him to keep an eye on you since you’ve just started this, but he let it slip his mind.”

Yunho rolls his eyes, “I went to the bathroom.”

“Enough arguing, please?” Seonghwa murmurs, smiling at you. “Ready to go to bed, doe?”

You steady yourself off the floor with the help of Wooyoung, thanking him. “Okay.”

Everyone begins leaving the room one by one, Yeosang staying with you. He guides you to the bathroom, asking for permission to help you into the bath. There’s no need to say no, no use for it. He’s been with you since the beginning of your transition since that fateful night at Hiraeth, where you met them all. You sink into the warmth of the water, leaning your head against the side. Yeosang sits there, watching you silently.

“Are you alright?” he asks, thumb brushing against your temple. “You worried us.”

You nod, a smile on your lips. “I’m always alright when I’m with you.”

The expression he gives you back is peculiar. Smile quick, strange. His eyes linger on the scar on your chest. “Okay. I’ll give you some time alone,” his lips brush against your forehead. “See you soon, pretty.”

Just as he closes the door, you lean from your spot. You didn’t mention it even though you should have. Crescents scarred his throat, the imprint of a hand stared at you as he helped you bathe. Your mind told you to stop questioning it, to let it go. But you just couldn’t. The sight looked so familiar, filled you with such fear. Like you were missing something right in front of you, but you just couldn’t grasp it. The eerie feeling began to consume you, clawing at the dryness of your throat, forcing itself into your heart through each beat.

A drum solo makes you stop. Your eyes move to the stage, focused on the man whose drumsticks fly through the air, foot tapping on the bass drum pedal, eyes closed completely as he plays. The crowd screams. But you can only stare. Watch as he expertly plays, lips curved into a smile. Blue hair pulled back with a headband. His eyelids open, immediately looking at you.The burgundy color keeps you in place. He tilts his head, observing you. He hits against the crash cymbal and pulls you away from his mesmerizing gaze.

“...Hongjoong,” you breathe.

He takes out a necklace, holding it between his fingers. “But with the long lives we have lived, it will be unfortunate if someone decided to bring the force of the law against us. I’d rather not spend my days rotting behind a prison cell. Not that we would, of course. But it is helpful, nonetheless.” The necklace drops to the table, a wince from Yeosang catching your attention. “But we didn’t bring you back here to tell you about how San practices law. This piece of jewelry, can you touch it?” Hongjoong slides it against the glass to you. Oddly, it doesn’t scratch at all.

The room grows silent; only the muted music filling the air. You stare at the jewels, the emerald color quite vibrant in the low light. Your curiosity almost outweighs the red exclamation points of danger. So despite it, you only stare at it then flick your gaze to Hongjoong. He tilts his head, waiting for you to respond.

Your hand lingers on the emerald necklace resting between your collarbones, warm despite how cold your skin is.

You remember.

How your soul mourned.

Yeosang pressed his cut hands to your lips just before you died. The others dragging Hongjoong off Seonghwa, barely saving him. Bringing Hongjoong to the brink of death.

When in reality, he was just gone. He disappeared after the night you turned. None of them could figure out where he went. They all simply accepted that he’d never come back. Little do they know what you know.

You held him as you felt his skin grow colder than it ever was. As his fearful eyes lost themselves in yours, and became colder, emptier. You stayed with him, cradling his soulless body tight against your chest. His blood seeping into your shirt, dripping down your leg. The knife thrown to the side; fingers wrapped around the cut on his throat to stop it from bleeding despite how much he tortured you.

The others would tell you how you shed tears for the first time over the man. How your screams were so gut-wrenching, even Yeosang struggled to pull you away. How months later, you woke from your slumber crying out his name. And strangely, how you never recalled any of it at all. They made you believe he’s dead. Yeosang turned you, coerced your mind into perceiving Hongjoong’s blood coating your fingers. You still recollect how clearly the scenery changed around you when you sobbed over his body. Dark background blending into the warmth of the summer dawn.

What a surprise it’ll be when they find out otherwise.

tags: @revehosh@mrcarrots@belletiny@sansblkgirlfriend@hwadump@honeyedtalisman@atzcoke@glitterhongjoong@whatudowhennooneseesyou@marievllr-abg@arkive78@dysftopia@kpopnightingale@wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines@atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira@wommypeaches@avantalem@youre-a-wallflower-charlie@toxicccred@xciiiomwliah@madelinelina@kirooz@a-tiny-teez@tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z@yoongiigolden @jonghoharibo @fl0r4f4wn @gh0stbish @kodsukein @vitrealislux@sarcasticsagittarius1998@spiderrenjunfics@aeoliannie @tannie13@leeknowsalot@xshansimsx@seojonneh @shingene @justconniez@mingi-banana@anushka-k@nightmarej1n@watamotee33@dear-dreamie@the-ghostest-with-the-mostest@jaxavance@malyxsoulpersonal@az-con@charreddonuts@beautysirens@sunukissed@lixpixstix

#fic: clair de lune #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #jongho x reader #ot8 x reader #thank you for this journey... love you all <3

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the-frostiest-of-flakes · 1 year ago

Text

Test Run

Fandom: rotbtd | Characters: Merida, Rapunzel, Hiccup, Jack Frost

Prompt(s): Merida, Favorite AU

Word count: 1851 | Warnings: None | Read on AO3

Summary: While giving her new gear a test run, Merida nearly dies and winds up meeting several budding heroes. Some more impressive than others.

Author's Note: I wrote this for the third week's prompts of the 2023 Big Four Fest, which were Merida and Favorite AUs. My favorite au is a very specific one by lucidorange on tumblr, and it's based around the larger superhero au. Unfortunately, the creator of the au deleted their tumblr account a while back, so everything I know about the au is thanks to the wayback machine and reblogs of the comic. (You can find part 1 here)

I tried to give the triplets more unique personalities while still staying in line with the au versions. I hope you enjoy!

---

Merida DunBroch, daughter of the wildly successful owner and CEO of DunBroch Technologies, Fergus DunBroch, was doing her homework.

Or, that’s what she was supposed to be doing.

In reality, she was perched on a flat roof thirty stories up, the lights of the city shining like stars below her. It was beautiful, and the wind gently caressing her face only added to the serenity. Unfortunately, it was currently being ruined by multiple voices jabbering in her ear. Tuning back in, she found that they were still going on about features and safety and blah, blah, blah. Pretty much everything she didn’t care about.

“—and if you notice sparks, tell us immediately and drop the—”

“If you’re done yapping,” she interrupted, grip tightening on her bow, “I’m gonna take this gear for a spin now.”

“Be careful,” buzzed one of the three nearly identical voices in her ear. Her amazing sister-senses told her it was Hubert. “This is just a test run — we don’t know if there are any glitches with the suit or bow.”

A second voice — Hamish — piped up, “Not that there will be any, considering we made it.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Harris broke in.

Merida rose, a wolfish grin spreading across her face as she looked to the ground below. So, so far below. “When have I ever needed encouragement?”

Three matching groans reached her ears, but she barely heard them over the rush of wind as she stepped over the edge—

And started free-falling.

All she could hear was the roaring of air in her ears as it whipped strands of hair out of her ponytail and stole the breath from her lungs. Her gut was long gone, left behind on the rooftop. The city lights pulsed brighter, getting ever closer. To most this would be a nightmare. But to her…to her it was exhilarating.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Grasping an arrow from her quiver, she drew her bow, changing the setting to “Zipline” with a flick of her thumb. Ah, the beauty of having genius inventor brothers. Aiming for a nearby building, Merida fired.

And was promptly disappointed.

Yes, the arrow flew true, arching through the air with the precision only a master could give, but it did so without the intended zipline attached. Leaving Merida still falling to her doom.

Okay, so maybe she should have checked that feature before jumping off a building.

A lump of panic rose in her throat. “Uh, guys?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already broken it,” came Harris’s response.

Oh, she was never going to live this down, was she? “I, uh. Might be about to die.”

There was silence on the other end. All at once, her brothers’ voices came pouring over each other in crackling mayhem.

“It hasn’t even been five minutes—”

“—You are so irresponsible—”

“—More inheritance for me!”

Gritting her teeth, she was about to cut through their chatter when something soft and golden wrapped itself around her waist and promptly yanked her to the side. She was no longer falling, but being swung like a pendulum. Grabbing at the fabric that led away from her waist into the dark of the night, she realized it wasn’t fabric at all. It was thousands of strands of golden hair.

What in the bloody hell…?

A moment later she was dropped — surprisingly gently — onto another roof, much lower than the one she had originally been on. The hair loosened and fell away, disappearing in a flash.

“I don’t know what happened,” said a voice from the shadows, “or what you’re going through, but killing yourself isn’t the answer.”

Merida sprung to her feet, narrowed eyes scanning her surroundings. It seemed to be the roof of an apartment building, with a box-like entrance to a stairwell in one corner. And yet, no sign of whoever had— wait, there! There, in the shadows of the entrance, was a girl, parts of her golden hair somehow still managing to gleam in the dark, giving away her position.

Her hair…

Calling it long would have been an understatement. “Long” gave the impression that the hair went down to her waist, maybe a little ways past. But the mass of yellow didn’t stop there. It went to her feet, and then continued off, spilling over the edge of the building like a waterfall of spun gold.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked again, her voice just as soft as her hair had been.

“‘m fine. And I wasn’t trying to kill myself.“

The girl stepped out of the shadows, confusion making furrows in her brow. They looked out of place, and Merida had the sudden urge to smooth them out. “Then what were you doing?”

“Testing out my gear.” She motioned to herself and the bow that was still in her hand.

The girl’s green eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh! You’re like me then!”

“Like you?”

“Yeah, you know. Superhero, vigilante, whatever you want to call it.” She flashed a grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is so cool! I’ve been working alone for so long — well, not really alone, I mean I’m technically working alongside the police but that’s nothing like having an actual partner — not that you’re going to be my partner, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Whoa, slow your horses!” Everything was suddenly falling into place, from the freaky hair to the large purple crown perched on the girl’s head. “You’re Swift, aren’t you? The vigilante people are claiming is running around?”

The girl — Swift — nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

“I thought you were an urban legend!”

“Nope, I’m real.” The smile on her face grew ever wider. “And so are you! Ohhh, this is so cool!”

Despite herself, Merida could feel one of her eyebrows raising. This was…not how she had expected her first meeting with a vigilante to go. Granted, she had never really thought about it before, but Swift had a strangely innocent demeanor about her. She wasn’t remotely hardened or threatening.

Three loud beeps sounded from Swift’s pocket. She withdrew what looked to be a burner phone and grimaced at whatever was displayed on the screen. “Sorry, I gotta go. There’s a fire downtown and a…dragon?” She squinted at the screen. “I think that’s a typo.”

Merida perked up. A fire and possibly also a dragon? That would be a perfect test run for the gear! Never mind the fact that her original test run had almost ended in her own demise. “Mind if I come with you?”

The look on Swift’s face could only be described as ecstatic. “Of course! But, uh…since you’re having some issues with your equipment, would you like me to carry you? It’ll be faster that way.”

Well, she certainly didn’t want to die or get left behind. “Sure.”

Golden hair came whipping up and around her waist, and a second later she was swinging through the air again. It took all her willpower to suppress a scream. From the way the city was whizzing past below, she had been right to agree to Swift’s offer. She would have been left in the dust long ago otherwise.

Soon the sound of sirens and the sight of orange light licking the night sky reached her senses. As well as…Snow?

A moment later the two of them were safe on the ground outside a burning apartment building, above which was a dark cloud. From the cloud fell a flurry of flakes, killing the fire slowly but surely.

Swift frowned. “That’s…weird. It’s the middle of September.”

Merida’s comm piece crackled to life. “So…are you still there?” Came Hamish’s voice. “I need to know if I won the bet or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m here.” At Swift’s quizzical look, she gestured to her ear. “‘m talking to my brothers, sorry.”

“Dang it. Wait, are you with someone?”

“Just another hero I met. Turns out that vigilante, Swift, is real.” Merida followed said hero as she ran towards the entrance. “And now we’re gonna stop a—” she broke off at the sound of shattering glass.

The two girls skidded to a halt as a large black bundle landed in front of them. It was metallic, and as it slowly uncurled itself they realized what it was.

It was a metal dragon.

The craftsmanship was astounding. From the textured metal and leather to the glowing green lights that constituted eyes. There was an air of intelligence in them, making Merida second-guess whether it was really insentient or not.

The reason for its previous ball-like state became evident as well. Clutched between its paws — talons? — was a child. Covered in ash and smoke, Merida could barely make out where the kid’s dark skin ended and the gray smudges began.

“That’s the last of them!” Called a voice from above. A moment later a brown-haired teenage boy dressed in black and green landed a little ways away, not noticing the two heroines.

All at once, the fire went out. Instead of flickering flames, the building was now covered in layers of frost and ice.

Merida gawked at the now blue-tinted structure. Just how many super-powered people are running around in this city?!

Swift was helping the dragon move the poor girl to a safe spot for when the paramedics would arrive, acting as if this kind of thing happened every day. And hey, maybe it did. Before Merida could decide what to do to help, another boy landed next to the first, this one seeming to float down with effortless ease. His blue eyes were locked on her as he pulled down his hood, revealing a shock of white hair.

He grinned. “Hey, look at that! We’ve got an audience.”

The Brunet turned, finally noticing her. He flinched, shooting a glare at his companion. “Jack! You said we wouldn’t be noticed!”

“Actually, I said we wouldn’t get in the papers. Big difference.” He was in front of her in a flash, lifting off of the ground like a leaf on a breeze. “That’s some outfit you got there. Who are you?”

Merida pursed her lips. She certainly wasn’t giving this weirdo her name. If she was going to be a vigilante like Swift, she’d need an alias. “Atlas,” she finally answered. “And what are you two supposed to be? Dragon Boy and Frosty the Snowman?”

The brunet made a noise akin to a broken squeaky toy. Jack only smiled wider. “Close. The name’s Frost. And you can call my sidekick whatever you like.”

“I am not your sidekick!”

Merida sighed internally. These two yahoos were obviously just playing around — although the metal dragon was pretty impressive.

“Well, aren’t you Miss Popular,” Harris’s voice rang in her ear. “Just how many people have you met tonight?”

She had forgotten her comm was on during that whole exchange. Great. She turned away from Frost and his sidekick/partner/friend and whispered through clenched teeth, “Shush. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. I promise.”

“You better. We’re already making popcorn.”

#frosted words #rotbtd #bigfourfest2023 #superhero au #modern au #merida dunbroch #rapunzel #hiccup haddock #jack frost #fanfiction #ao3 link

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redfish-blu · 2 years ago

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An Open Letter to the Danger Days Tumblr Community:

Now that you’ve read that overdramatic title and are wondering who fucked up, I have something to say about the Danger Days Tumblr community: I Love You.

Danger Days was the first fandom I ever posted for on any site. All the way back in middle school (ho-ly shit). And let me tell you what I found out even way back when: this is not an easy fandom to be in.

For one, most people don’t even know it exists. For two, even less know it in the way it’s been cultivated on Tumblr. Almost every single person has such a niche interpretation of every little detail, that it’s impossible to draw a line through any two versions of the story. Which is a fact I personally love, but I also think it scares a lot of people away. You have to work to be in this fandom. Both as a passive and active fan. It requires patience and tolerance for disappointment.

But that’s exactly why I want to encourage everyone who creates and everyone who listens to Keep Doing That. Like I cannot stress this enough, that is what keeps this fandom and IP alive. Danger Days as a universe would be absolutely nothing without fan work (re: the California Comics), especially a decade later. Without fans who care about this story way more than it has warranted us to care, it would be six feet under. And sometimes I really think that’s what it deserves (and maybe the writers think that as well), but for the life of me I just can’t let that happen. I’ve tried to let this fucking thing go, believe me.

And funny enough, that exact feeling is evidenced by the community on this site too. Which has changed faces almost completely from what it was three years ago for better and less better in some cases. And it’s something I still struggle with adjusting to, but I look at the tag daily. I look everyone’s posts and blogs and art and effort. If you have posted even once in the dd tag my eyes have 100% seen it. So even if I still feel a little out of place, like a ghost of fandom’s past, at least I know everybody. And I know people feel the same way: No rest for the wicked.

When I reanimated from my fandom coma I was fully expecting to find that the community had gone extinct. Partially because all the blogs I used to frequent had straight up died in the three years I was gone. But I pulled up to the gates of the Danger Days tag like Rick Grimes outside of Alexandria, fully expecting to be devastated, only to find New People tilling the fucking field. And it didn’t matter that I now had no idea who any of you people were, it was The Most welcoming thing ever.

I’ll be the first to tell you this fandom bares almost no resemblance to the one I left, and I’m not going to lie and say it’s better now, but the foundation didn’t get blown away in the storm. That’s what I find uniquely profound. That everyone here still wants to try. And that makes me really want to try. And I’m sure everyone would agree that there is often little reward for the effort; but that’s precisely my point in saying all this shit. That even despite the not fun aspects, we all still clock in; and there’s a new post, headcanon, drawing, or fic every freaking day. It’s commendable, really.

If you’re lurking, or post sometimes but feel afraid to actually take a leap here because (the fandom is comparatively tiny to the greater MCR fandom) you’ll be way more out there, and the already established figureheads of the fandom will definitely see your stuff: post post post. This is my formal endorsement to Just Post That Shit. And Interact With That Shit. I spent a year gathering the courage to publish the tiniest thing while behind the scenes I literally wrote about 60+ works. You have to respect your own creativity and trust that other people will give it the time of day.

So do not feel crazy or discouraged about your ideas here! Like we literally need them to function, I would not be here if it wasn’t for all the people three years ago who just posted all their thoughts about Danger Days. About everything. Obscure or not. It’s truly a gift that this fandom has attracted people who are willing to work their brains because the original creators let it fall flat. I cannot tell you how much being in this fandom has actually helped me out in my writing and analysis skills.

So yeah. I fucking love this fandom, I love being in it and I love seeing that people are still stoking the flames. I wanted to say all this crap because I knew I’d be able to articulate it for the people who can relate but don’t want to be the first to say it. Which is okay, understandable. As I said earlier this fandom is like yelling your thoughts out into a very echoey room that only has a few people in it. So I’ll shout first and maybe it’ll make other people more comfortable to shout back.

#i tried to make this as easy to read as possible #this is also an open discussion btw. welcome to the fuckin conference room #we’re all on the council #danger days #mcr #ttlotfk #ttlofk #kobra kid #killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #party poison #jet star #fun ghoul #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #cas types #long post

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radioactive-earthshine · 2 years ago

Note

This is probably gonna sound like a dumb question (and I’m sorry in advance) but I literally know the bare minimum about the Flashfam and their lore, so here we go. You’ve talked before about Kon being Bart’s “Lightning Rod” and from my understanding, it’s more or less a soulmate. Can you tell me more about that?

Hello and apologies for taking so long to get on this one.

A "lightning rod" when it comes to Flash Lore is basically someone who prevents a Speedster from becoming one with the speedforce, or acts as an anchor to find their way back when otherwise lost in speed related... debacles. Like a bolt of lightning to a metal pole they are attracted to them. They are people of whom a speedster has an emotional bond with, romantically, platonically or even antagonistically.

The comics naturally focus more on those that share a romantic bond with a speedster, but there is evidence to support that any strong bond can make a lightning rod regardless of the type of bond they have.

Jay's lightning rod is his sweet Joan of whom being his lightning rod had her own aging 'slowed' to match his (it's a little more complicated than that but for simplicity that is what is going on).

For Barry, Iris is his lightning rod which he was able to use on several occasions to pull himself out of the time stream and back to his own time.

Wally's legendary bond with Linda as a lightning rod is blatant as she helped pull him from the speedforce after he had already merged with it.

There are other instances of Iris and Linda both being lightning rods where not only do they help their speedsters manage their own powers, but by being lightning rods it helps the speedster keep them safe and prevent their own deaths or grievous harm, or in Jay's case extend Joan's life.

The tell-tale sign of a lightning rod for a speedster is of course a romantic bond, or a persistent attraction bringing the two together.

The comics will also blatantly tell you who a lightning rod is eventually using those words, where by then they get... bonus features (like Joan having her aging impacted, Linda getting powers etc).

For Bart we don't have the comics using those specific words for anyone, but in looking at the behaviors of other lightning rods and their speedsters we can sort of extrapolate that Kon, Cassie and Tim are his lightning rods with possibly Cissie (realistically she would be one but she dropped off from continuity so we didn't get to see her much after 2003).

Kon being one with an intense 'pull' for Bart is something that has the most evidence in Young Justice 2019 when Bart worked exhaustively to find Kon and to bring Young Justice back together.

When the newly formed Young Justice sans Kon were all zapped to Gemworld they were all scattered but it was Bart who appeared literally right next to Kon. Everyone else had been deposited in more random places, but not Bart. This suggests that while he does have a bond with Tim and Cassie, it is to Kon that he may have a special bond with.

There are other instances of Kon's existence being a focal point for Bart throughout their comic relationship such as during the World Without Young Justice arc where a de-powered mundane Kon was able to give Bart the courage and strength to overcome his deep paralyzing fear to reabsorb his dying scouts.

Also Kon and Bart have an intense friendship where there are multiple instances where they pick each other up and seek each other out which is at least the grounding basics for a lightning rod. For further reading on that you can look at the Konbart Manifesto.

To quantify if a lightning rod is a soulmate is a little mushy. If you are a romantic sort and the idea of soulmates pleases you tremendously then yes a lightning rod can be used to describe one, but there are more 'extras' that come with a lightning rod than just an intense burning love and a 'meant to be' attraction.

There is something more physical, metaphysical, spiritual and atomic about their bond than it being a divine uncontrollable force. There is an element of spookiness involved for sure, but there also is an element of choice about who become one based on built up love.

A lightning rod is something as profound as a gravitational pull for a speedster; their relationship is like Earth and our moon where Earth is a speedster and the moon is a lightning rod. Without the moon as a ballest Earth's stability in orbit would likely change catastrophically and for a speedster this is also the case.

I hope this makes some semblance of sense.

TLDR: A lightning rod is like a soulmate that a speedster has semi-control over but is no less spooky and endearing.

#bartkon #konbart #lightning rods #flashfam #bart allen #kon el #conner kent #to note though barry and wally have more lightning rods #hal for barry #and dick for wally #piper is likely one too for wally #jay's friendship with alan could be extrapolated to include him as well but i am not sure on that one #the other speedsters are a whole other monolith too

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xxsabitoxx · 2 years ago

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Team Bucciarati & Accidentally walking in on you while you are changing

Warning: all characters are 18+ in this situation, kinda suggestive content ahead if you squint? Well beside Mista’s but… really nothing crazy lol

Reader is female!

A/N: I have like 37 fucking JJBA smuts I could finish yet here I am writing this stupid shit LMAO — also my phone is acting so infuriating lately so please bear with me if there are any typos Proof read? Never

Giorno Giovanna

He knocks, every single time, so how this even happened is beyond him. Maybe it was because your door was slightly ajar, maybe it was because it was only the two of you home in the apartment the entire gang shared, whatever the reason was… Giorno still failed to knock. “Y/n do you ha—oh.” He froze midway through the door, eyes widening ever so slightly as he looked at you. You were mid-change, a shirt on but no pants, panties sticking to your frame as you turned to face him. “Giorno!?” You yelped, grabbing the closest item to shield your lower half — in this case it was your pillow. “I’m sorry I…” he was turning around so you only saw his back. “I just wanted to ask you something but it can certainly wait till you are decent…” he was making his way back out of your room, face burning just as brightly as yours.

Bruno Bucciarati

He wasn’t thinking, knuckles hitting your door a few times and pushing it open without waiting for a response. “Y/n I need you to help me with this paperwork…” he locked eyes with you, his tired brain taking a second to process that you looked shocked. “B-Bruno!” Your hands were over your bare chest, hugging your breasts tightly. He blinked once, twice, three times before his cheeks were turning neon red. You’d never seen him exit your room so quickly, hand over his mouth as he clicked the door shut. “My deepest apologies…” he was muffled from behind your door but you could still hear the embarrassment in his voice. “I am… so so sorry… forgive me I…” you began to laugh, reaching for a shirt to throw over yourself. A second later, you were opening your bedroom door. “No need to apologize, Bruno. It’s alright.” Your cheeks were still warm, but it felt less awkward seeing how shy he had gotten. You found it rather cute.

Pannacotta Fugo

It’s a rare occasion for Fugo to even come close to your room. He probably couldn’t even accurately describe it if he wanted too. So how he ended up where he was now? So red in the face he was nearly purple? Was still a mystery to him. “Oh? Hi Fugo.” You smiled, reaching for your perfume, it seemed you were oblivious to the fact that you were only in a pair of panties and a bra. His mouth was hanging open, eyes comically wide as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Fugo? Are you alright? You usually don’t come in my room?” For you, it wasn’t really a big deal. I mean you’ve all been to the beach together before, you weren’t really showing that much more skin at the moment. “Earth to Fugo? Did you need to tell me something?” Your hand waving in his face was the only thing that snapped him out of it, mostly because of your new proximity. “I-i’m so sorry! I don’t even know why I came in here! I’ll just let myself out I…” he was still muttering as he left, hands coming up to hold his face once he was out of your sight.

Narancia Ghirga

You’re used to it by now, he quite literally never knocks and always lets himself in. “Hey Y/N! I need to ask you…” you jumped, moving to cover yourself before realizing it was just Narancia. You mostly zoned out when he started asking you questions, some how you’re half assed answers seemed satisfactory for him. Most of the time, Narancia sat in your room talking your ear off as you got ready for the day. He was, in every sense, not phased seeing you half naked. Of course he’d never seen you in anything less than a bra and underwear, but in your eyes it was the same as being seen in a bikini. Narancia was just…Narancia. “Where do you even come up with these questions?” You slipped a shirt over your head, laughing as he tilted his head. “I dunno.” Was all he could give you, eyes training on your CD collection as you rummaged through your closet for a pair of bottoms. Really, it didn’t even phase you anymore.

Mista Guido

The last thing he expected was to get a face full of your ass when he walked into your room. “Merda, y/n! You could kill a man with a sight like that!” Always a smart ass… and a flirt. You rolled your eyes, straighten from where you had been bent over rummaging for pajamas. “You scared the fuck out of me, Mista.” He made his way into your room, throwing himself on your bed. “Ah well, you scared me too with an ass like that. The very thought of you sitting—“ you picked up your pillow and began hitting him with it, laughing as he attempted to block. “You are such a horny bastard.” You shook your head, finally flopping yourself beside him when he stopped putting up a fight. “I can’t help it! Having a roommate as good looking as you… who loves to walk round half nude…” the pillow was hitting him once again, this time both of you couldn’t contain your laughter.

Leone Abbacchio

He was only walking into your room because Bucciarati sent him to get you… what he failed to do though was knock. “We’re going to dinner, hurry your ass up so we can…go…” he froze, eyes matching the size of yours as you instinctively covered yourself with your towel. “Why wouldn’t you knock?!” You felt your face getting warm, knowing full and well that Abbacchio had quite literally just seen all of you. “I—“ he swallowed, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, even that quick glance of your body was engraved into his mind. “I’m sorry…I…” he was stumbling backwards out of your room, praying his cheeks weren’t turning as red as they felt. “J-just hurry up so we can go get dinner…” his voice was strained, quite unusual for him, which was making the situation all the more awkward. “Okay…” you croaked, mentally reminding yourself to lock your door from now on.

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ririreader · 3 years ago

Text

There’s No Sun Without You

Blurb: Remus and a fellow teacher at Hogwarts have a close friendship. After a misunderstanding, he must decide exactly how close he is willing to be. Angst. Fluff. Smut. The usual. I love reading comments from all of you— hint hint :)

She pushed the door open with her foot, balancing two frosty mugs of butter beer and a large stack of books in her arms.

“Evening, love!”

Remus glanced up from his desk. He set his pen aside, immediately breaking into a large grin. He stood quickly, rushing over to her to help.

“Evening, darling. What’s all this?”

She blew a piece of hair out of her face, kicking off her boots and shutting the door with a bump from her hip.

“Thought we could use a nightcap! I had to grab some books from Hogsmeade so I figured I’d make the trip worth while.”

She fluttered around his office, a little jumping bean of energy. He watched her with a small smile. She removed her coat and scarf, draping them over an armchair. Finally, she turned to him with a huff and a smile.

“Shall we?”

They made their way to the small couch in his office. With a casual flick of his hand the fire roared to life. He handed her a drink, settling in next to her and grasping his own with two hands. She held her glass out to him, and he met it with a clink from his own.

“Cheers.” They said in unison.

He settled back with a smile, resting his head on a long finger. She sipped her drink, then a thought seemed to cross her mind.

“Oh! I almost forgot.”

She reached into her cleavage, startling him a bit. She produced a vial filled with clear liquid. She gave him a devilish grin.

“Didn’t have any hands left.”

“Do I want to know what it is?”

She studied the vial with a furrowed brow.

“I asked the bartender for two shots of his strongest liquor. Didn’t think it wise to inquire any further.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“What if it kills us?”

“Then it was our time to go, Remus.”

She waggled her eyebrows, eliciting another laugh from him. He made no move to take the vial.

“Oh, come now, Remus! It’s been warmed by my bosom and everything.”

“Well when you put it that way,” he grumbled comically.

She pulled the stopper out with her teeth. She took a large swig then handed him the vial. He sighed heavily, reluctantly taking it from her and eyeing it.

“Bottoms up, I suppose.”

He finished the liquid, grimacing with a large exhale.

“That. Is vile.”

“The vile vial: our devious undoing.”

They laughed, settling back into the couch. She brought her knees to her chest, sipping her drink. She loved sitting with Remus. Something about him was so calming. He took a long drink and looked at her, head resting on the back of the couch. She laughed.

“What?”

“You’ve got a foam mustache on top of your regular mustache. It’s very sporting.”

He licked at his top lip, barely cleaning it. With another laugh she reached forward, collecting the foam with her thumb. His body tensed a bit as she touched him. She pulled her finger back, sucking the foam off. When she looked at him, his jaw was clenched. A beat of silence passed. He cleared his throat.

“How was your day?”

She recovered from the slight trance she had been in from his intense gaze.

“Fine. I hate Draco Malfoy and you can tell his father I said so.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes and taking a drink.

“He’s a little shit.”

“Isn’t he?! Christ, I want to flick him in the nose every time he speaks.”

“Lucius would be on you in seconds.”

“Hopefully it’s mommy dearest who would be on me in seconds.”

She gave him a wink. With a chuckle he shook his head.

“You’re horrible.”

She watched him swallow, the vein in the side of his neck jumping. Why was that so alluring to her? She kept her gaze on his neck.

“What about you? Fun day? Any fourth years try to seduce you?”

He snorted. “Bloody fourth years.”

“If one more tries something, I think you achieve some sort of sexy Professor bingo.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Sexy?”

She felt her cheeks heat. Her hands froze with her drink hovering at her mouth. She sputtered for a moment.

“You’re obviously attractive, Remus.” She grumbled into her mug.

He considered this, humming deep in his throat.

“I think they just see me as a maimed animal they want to comfort. You know how teenage girls like to rescue things. Perhaps I’ll have Dumbledore cast a Protection Charm around me.”

“They’d claw their way through.”

He sighed. “Probably.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Anyway,” he began, “the closer they get to me the less they’ll want me. So perhaps I don’t need a Protection Charm.”

“Why do you say that?”

He looked at her with a confused smile.

“My face.”

“What about it?”

He opened his mouth, a few strangled sounds leaving it as he found his words.

“Well… it’s… it’s quite ugly.”

She spit her drink back into her mug. Her face was a mixture of bewilderment and horror.

“What in the world would give you that idea?”

He looked embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably and crossing his legs. He cocked his head at her, slightly irritated.

“It’s all cut up.”

“So?”

“Well it’s not as if it’s pretty.”

His frustration bled through his words.

“Is the constant swarm of teenage girls trying to seduce you not enough proof of how horribly incorrect that is?”

“Enough, y/n.” His voice was a quiet warning.

His cheeks were flushed. He looked away from her, shaking his head. His fists were clenched in his lap. She couldn’t believe how convinced he was of his ugliness. How could he not see what literally every other person in the world saw when they looked at him?

“Remus.” She said, voice soft.

He didn’t look at her. She leaned forward, speaking to the side of his face. He leaned his weight onto his elbows. A piece of his hair fell into his face. She sighed.

“For what it’s worth: I find your face quite lovely.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“I like the scars. I even have favorites.”

She reached out and touched the scar above his eyebrow. He jerked away, standing abruptly.

“Do not touch me.”

She snapped her hand back, startled.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Remus.”

He walked to his desk, back facing her.

“I think you should leave now.”

“What?!”

“Leave!”

His voice was a deep boom, making her jump. More than anything, it frightened her; she had never seen him so much as annoyed, let alone angry. She stood and rushed out the door, leaving her boots and mug behind.

When the door clicked shut, he hung his head. He didn’t wipe the few hot tears that ran down his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week passed. She avoided him. She felt humiliated for some unknown reason, and couldn’t stand the thought of facing him. She had settled into her living quarters the following weekend, candles lit and a hot mug of tea resting in her lap. She was curled up in bed, attempting to focus on her novel and not how furious Remus Lupin had sounded the weekend prior.

She heard her office door open in the chamber outside of her bedroom. She cocked her head, confusion crossing her face. It was after 10PM. There would be no reason for someone to be in her office. Whoever it was came to stand outside of her bedroom door. There was a soft set of knocks.

“Come in!”

The door opened slowly, a head peering around hesitantly.

Remus. Looking extremely uncomfortable.

“I have your boots.”

She tongued her cheek, staring at him.

“All right.”

He hesitated, seemingly at war with himself over entering her room. Finally, he seemed to lose some internal battle. He entered, shutting the door softly. He held up her boots sheepishly. She cocked her head to the chair near the door. He set them down, placing his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor.

“Can we talk?”

He looked ashamed. And slightly frightened. She considered him a moment, sighing.

“All right, then.”

She rose from bed, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked to her sitting area. She sat on the couch, looking up at him expectantly.

“May I sit?”

“Of course.”

He walked over, face still at the floor. He flicked his hand, lighting the fire. He sat as far away as the small couch would let him. She glanced at his lap. His hands hung between his legs. They were shaking.

“I owe you both an apology and an explanation.”

She remained silent, willing him to go on. He sighed loudly, tousling his hair. Strands fell messily in his face. He had shadows under his eyes.

“I apologize for how I spoke to you. You’re my best mate, but you’re also a woman. An extremely kind woman. And I am appalled I ever raised my voice at you.”

He rested his head in his hands.

“I’ve never raised my voice at a woman before. It was a disgusting thing to do.”

He dug his fingers into his scalp, tugging at his thick hair. He looked like he would rip himself to shreds if he could. A stab of pity stung her chest.

“I know how I look, and I know you know, too. And it felt like you were making fun of it— telling me how attractive I am when you know it’s not true.”

She made a noise of protest. He held up a hand, silencing her.

“Please just let me say this.”

She closed her mouth, jaw clenched. He seemed to choke on the next words.

“Part of me had hoped that if I just pretended not to look the way I do… if I just acted as if the scars and the marks weren’t real, they wouldn’t be. That maybe, somehow, you wouldn’t notice. Because you’re so pretty, and it’s so obvious. And it’s so obvious that I’m not like that. But I thought maybe if I just didn’t draw attention to that fact you would—I don’t know— forget. But then you touched them. And then there was no denying that they were real, and that you saw them. And I just thought: well, there goes my chance. Now she really knows for sure what you are. No recovering from this. And I knew you must be so disgusted by me, by how I felt beneath your fingers. I just… I just panicked.”

She was staring at him, mouth hanging open. A tear ran down her cheek. He had hunched over, burying his head in his lap.

“What…”

She trailed off, attempting to collect herself. He was rubbing his forehead against the back of his hand, the movement anxious and manic.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He paused, cocking his head to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot, irritated with unshed tears. His face was lined with confusion.

“You, Remus Lupin, are a fucking idiot.”

He made a choked noise in the back of his throat.

“What?!”

She climbed into his lap. His sucked in a sharp breath, seemingly terrified of her. She glared at him, silent. He swallowed, throat bobbing nervously. She grabbed his face, running her thumbs over his scars. He attempted to jerk his face away from her, but she snapped him back to face her. Her eyes bore into his as she leaned forward and kissed the scar above his eyebrow. He let out a near silent whimper, transfixed by her. She held eye contact as she kissed the scars at his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Both of them were trembling against one another. His chin wobbled as he watched her.

She pulled back and stood, assessing him.

“Take your shirt off.”

“No.”

Jaw set, she climbed back into his lap. She grabbed the front of his shirt, attempting to pry the buttons of his dress shirt apart. He grabbed her wrists. She fought against him. The two struggled with one another. Both had tears running down their cheeks. Finally, she thwarted his movements and ripped his shirt open, the top few buttons snapping off and falling to the floor.

His hands fell limp at his sides, defeated. He buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, finally allowing himself to cry. His body shook against her as she finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t look at me, love.” His voice was miserable.

“I never stop looking at you, Remus.”

She tugged him by the hair, forcing his eyes to meet hers. She pulled her nightgown over her head, tossing it to the floor and leaving herself naked before him. His mouth dropped open. He let out a long, shaky breath.

“Look at you…” he said, voice filled with awe.

She felt his cock harden. He just stared, blush deepening by the second.

“I can’t… I shouldn’t touch something so beautiful. I’ll ruin it.”

She shook her head sadly, resting her forehead against his. She guided his hands to her waist. They shook violently as they grasped her, gently, hesitantly. She leaned in and kissed him, lingering at his lips. He sighed against her. After a moment, he kissed her back. She ran her hands over his chest, making it a point to trace the raised scars.

“You feel amazing, Remus.”

He whimpered against her lips, tightening his grip on her waist. He was shy with his kisses, his tongue barely brushing against her own as she opened her mouth. She tangled her fingers in his thick hair, relishing the feel of it between her fingers. She had imagined running her fingers through his hair what felt like a thousand times. The real thing far surpassed her expectations. He kissed her neck lightly. She moaned, throwing her head back and grinding into his lap.

His grip tightened further. He seemed to be battling with himself. There was still a leash on his actions; he held back as if waiting for her to change her mind.

“Take me to bed already, Remus.”

His body stiffened, movements halting. He looked up at her with worry.

“I’m not worthy of that. I’d be nothing but a regret.”

She kissed him, silencing his protests.

“Listen to me, Remus Lupin.”

He shut his eyes, brow furrowed. She kissed his forehead.

“I love you.”

He hung his head, shaking it vigorously.

“No you don’t. How could you?”

She kissed his cheek.

“I love you.”

She kissed his neck.

“I love you.”

She kissed his lips, mumbling a final “I love you” against them. His entire body was shaking.

“Do you love me?” She whispered.

After a moment he nodded, keeping his eyes fixed to his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Then do something for me.”

“All right,” he said, voice strangled.

“Take me to bed and show me how much you love me.”

He groaned, grabbing her and standing with her wrapped around his waist. Their noses were touching when he spoke.

“Do you mean it?”

She kissed him. “Yes.”

“You swear it?”

“I swear it.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, panting. Finally, he let go. He kissed her hard, hands grasping her ass as he carried her to the bed. He set her down gently, stepping back and studying her for a moment. His hands went to his shirt. He paused, shutting his eyes hard. With clumsy, shaking hands, he removed his shirt. He stood, seemingly awaiting to be taunted. She took him in, mouth practically watering.

The fact that he didn’t understand his beauty would be comical if it wasn’t so devastating. His chest was muscled, lightly defined and covered with raised pink scars. Hair dusted his chest and the skin below his navel. Narrow hips were defined by a light v in his olive skin. His trousers hung low.

She just stared at him. He squirmed under her gaze, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Remus…” she croaked. She cleared her throat.

“Take off your pants and get in this bed.”

His gaze darkened. He unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down his hips, kicking them off. He crawled over her, resting his weight on top of her. For a moment they just looked at one another. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed the tip of her nose.

“My girl?” He whispered.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

He grinned, kissing her softly.

“Forever, then.”

He shifted his attention to her neck, kissing and nipping at it lightly. She groaned, arching her back and pressing her breasts against his chest. He moaned in response.

“I’m going to go mad if you’re not inside of me soon.”

He hummed against her neck. “Patience, little one.”

He began kissing his way down her body. He grabbed a breast with one large palm, lazily dragging his tongue over it.

“You have beautiful nipples.”

He sucked one into his mouth, groaning.

“These… I could take my time with these.”

He repeated his ministrations on the other nipple. He kissed between her breasts. She whined in anticipation. He kissed her stomach, rubbing his face against it.

“You know. One night, we were sitting on the couch and I was cracking my knuckles.”

“I recall the evening.” She said, breathless.

“It was close to the full moon, so I could smell everything. Your soap was already driving me mad. And then you got so wet.”

He made his way further down her body, stopping between her legs.

“It was all I could smell. And I loved it. My head was spinning over it. So I just kept cracking my knuckles.”

He grinned evilly from between her legs. She let out a shaky laugh.

“You’re a bastard, Remus Lupin.”

He kissed the inside of her thigh.

“Why did you react that way?”

“I like your fingers, you cheeky jerk.”

He ran his finger along her pubic hair lightly. She shivered.

“Why is that?”

She groaned in frustration, thrusting her hips toward his face.

“Because I think about them doing things like that.”

“Like what?” He played dumb.

He ran his thumb over her clit.

“Like that?”

He slid one long finger inside of her, making her screech.

“Like that?”

“Fuck, Rem.”

He twisted his finger, pushing deeper. He swore lightly when he felt her clench around him.

“What about this?”

He slid a second finger inside of her. She sucked air in through her teeth at the stretch.

“Something like this, maybe?”

He flattened his tongue on her, taking a long, slow lick up her center. He growled at the taste of her and she moaned, tugging him closer to her by his hair. He sucked at her clit, looking up at her with hooded eyes. His fingers pumped at a torturously slow pace. Her thighs shook around him. He kept his eyes on her.

“I’ve wanted my head between your legs for so long, y/n. You’ve no idea.”

She was a whimpering mess. She reached a hand down to run a thumb along the scar above his eyebrow. She shut her eyes and rubbed the scar, riding his face languidly. His eyes hooded. He was surprisingly turned on by what she was doing. He gave a particularly hard suck, encouraged by her actions, and she stiffened. She came shaking against his mouth. His brow furrowed in surprise as he worked her through it with his tongue, breathing heavily through his nose. She was whimpering his name, borderline incoherent. When she finally relaxed, he chuckled from between her legs.

“I’ve hardly been down here for five minutes.”

“Consider it a testament to your talents.”

He kissed up her body, hovering at her mouth. He was still panting. She twirled a piece of his hair around her finger, smiling lightly.

“I’ve the most gorgeous man in the world in my bed right now. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

He shook his head with a sad smile. He kissed her temple.

“You are a wonderful, delusional, little thing.”

His cock was hot and hard against her stomach. She could feel precum leaking onto her skin. She groaned.

“Let me taste you, Remus.”

Now he was the one to groan. He licked the shell of her ear.

“If that mouth goes anywhere near my cock I’m going to embarrass myself.”

She grabbed at his length, causing him to hiss and jerk his hips.

“Please. Just a taste.”

He sighed, rolling onto his back. She propped onto her elbow at his side, stroking him slowly with her free hand. He scrunched his face, thrusting gently into her hand. She licked at one of his nipples. She kissed down his chest, licking at the various scars. Gripping him, she gave a small lick to his tip.

“Shit.” He breathed.

She sucked him into her mouth, pushing her head down until he hit the back of her throat. He let out a loud shout. She bobbed her head, letting him grind against the back of her throat. His hand tugged at her hair hard enough to sting as he moaned.

“Your cock tastes so good, baby.”

She went to suck him again and he swatted her head, causing a surprised laugh to leave her throat.

“What?!”

“You’re going to ruin the whole evening if you keep it up.”

She laughed, kissing his thigh.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

She made her way back up his body. He ran the tips of his fingers along her cheekbones. He shifted on top of her, settling between her legs.

“Are you absolutely certain, my love?”

She clawed down his back, making him shiver.

“While I appreciate your gallantry, I will literally attack you if you don’t fuck me immediately.”

He laughed against her lips.

“The lady has spoken.”

Taking himself in his hand, he ran the tip of his cock over her core.

“Fuck. Completely soaked for me. Going to drive me mad.”

He began pushing into her. There was resistance at first. He flicked his gaze to her, checking to see if she was okay. She gave him a quick nod. He pushed further in.

“You’re fucking dripping. Jesus Christ.”

He finally bottomed out, a choked whine escaping his lips. She dug her nails into his shoulders.

“You—“ she caught her breath, “you feel perfect inside of me, Remus.”

He moaned softly, rubbing his cheek against hers. He pulled his hips back, sliding out to the tip and slowly pushing himself back in. He shook from the restraint it took to not slam into her perfect little body. She flinched, his size bigger than she had expected. He paused.

“I know you can take it, my darling. Just breath.”

He gave another slow thrust. They both were already covered in a light layer of sweat.

“I know this little cunt is so tight, isn’t it, darling? But feel how well you take me. Feel how wet and ready you are for me. My perfect girl.”

She moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist. He knew it was mind over matter with her; he had to seduce that beautiful brain before he could ever pleasure her body. He licked her lips. His hips moved a bit faster. She began meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it, love. Take me. Such a good girl.”

His praise sent a shiver down her spine.

“Say it again, Remus.”

He grinned at her arrogantly. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, speeding up his pace.

“Good girl, y/n.”

Her nails dug into his back. He licked her throat, one hand gripping her thigh as he thrust into her with abandon. Her hips rose off the bed from the power behind his movements.

“My good girl. Taking this cock so well.”

She was shaking, the knot in her belly already tightening from his words and movements. He leaned back onto his knees, hoisting her hips off of the bed. He wrapped her legs back around him, pounding into her as her back arched.

“Am I fucking you good, little one?” He rasped.

She nodded, feeling close to tears. “Yes.”

“Then let me hear you.”

She groaned, flipping him over forcefully. He looked surprised as his head hit the pillow. She began rocking against him. She felt his cock begin to stutter. His hands gripped her hips. His eyes were trained on her, jaw clenched and sweat running down his temple.

“You’re perfect, Remus.”

He furrowed his brow, a challenge in his stare.

“I’m never going to get enough of this body. I want to fuck you senseless while I run my hands over these scars. Every second of every day.”

Something in him broke, yet mended. She knew what he needed to hear. Her voice was catching as she neared her climax.

“I want my hands all over you. Touching you. I want to taste every inch of you, feel every scar with my tongue.”

He slammed into her now, eyes silver lined.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t get enough. I’ll never have enough. I’ll never stop wanting you. I’ll never stop touching you.”

She emphasized her words by running her hands over his chest, lightly scraping along his scars. A choked moan escaped his lips. She leaned down and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth.

“Make me come, Remus. Make me come while I touch you.”

He shut his eyes, baring his teeth as he fucked her. She clenched around him. She fell forward, running her tongue along a scar on his bicep as she came. He shouted, coming inside her with a long moan and loud grunt. His body twitched against hers. He could feel her dripping down his cock as she continued to ride him, pulling every bit of pleasure from him that she could.

She collapsed against him, breath ragged. His hands shook as he ran them along her back. Their hearts raced against one another.

“My god.” He rasped.

She kissed at his neck, breathing still erratic. She finally met his eyes. The stayed there, staring at one another and panting, each with a look of awe on their face. Finally, he smiled, straight white teeth on display.

“Afraid I’m a bit smitten.”

She laughed, nuzzling into his neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you, pretty girl.”

He toyed with her hand as her breathing evened out. He was gazing at her ring finger, thinking about the ways he could make it even prettier.

#original writing #harry potter #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus x reader #remus x you #fanfic #remus angst #remus x sirius #original character #professor lupin #professor lupin smut

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years ago

Note

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

#i did not proofread this at all so i just kNOW im going to read this back later and find a whole bunch of typos oops #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idiots in love #sad stevie aw

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Text

Mating

Pairing: Remus Lupin X Reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: you’ve done a good enough job of covering up your attraction to your new colleague... that is until the moon cycle heightens his senses...

AN: I’m getting there with these requests! I’ve been going through them at my own pace- sorry if I’ve rejected your request though- id rather not write it if I don’t have the inspiration to do so 💖💖💖

Also I went to TOWN on this one, so feedback is greatly appreciated !!

Gif creds to owner as usual x

Warnings: rough, possessive sex, swearing, breeding kink , werewolf tricks (scents, mating, knotting)

Drawing your robe tighter around yourself, silently cursing Severus for putting people in detention. You had agreed to take over his patrols for the night, when in reality, you wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Sighing, you held your lit wand out in front of you, walking up the corridor, occasionally nodding at a passing ghost, telling Peeves to bugger off, greeting snoozing portraits...

The silence of the dark corridors allowed you to mull over your thoughts, figure out some lesson plans, what you would get people for christmas the next time you visited Hogsmeade, but as usual, your train of thought wandered, soon landing on a particular Professor. Smiling dumbly to yourself, you pictures him in your mind, from his grey-flecked hair to his shabby, patched robes; his kind, tired eyes to his light stubble and moustache; his trim chest to his long, elegant fingers...

Shuddering slightly, you tugged your lip between your teeth. What that man could do with his fingers, you mused, remembering at dinner earlier that evening, watching as he wrapped his hands around his goblet- you came to the conclusion that those fingers would look much better wrapped around your throat...

You were so lost in your thoughts that you bumped headlong into the object of your desires. How did you know it was him? Was it his gentle hands grasping your arms to stop you falling backwards? Was it the gentle words he uttered asking if you were okay? No. It was his scent, of all things, which lingered on his comfy knitted jumper- tea and books and... the forbidden forest... you couldn’t help but inhale a few gulps before mumbling your apology, making to move past him. Those hands grabbed your arm again, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Why not walk with me, YN? Your patrol won’t be as lonely,” he said kindly, smiling down at you. You could see a slight glint of his white teeth in the wandlight as you nodded. Together and in relative silence, you strolled the corridors, occasionally murmuring to one another- yes the weather had been a bit rubbish lately, that book is excellent, no I didn’t know it’s the full moon in three days...

You knew about remus’s condition, as everyone on the staff did. Why was he bringing it up? Did he think you were scared? Did he think you would run away once it clicked? You didn’t care that he was a werewolf, of course you didn’t. If anything, it often made you wonder what he was like in bed before the Full moon. He seemed tired all the time, but you had read about mating- would mild-mannered Remus Lupin evolve into a primal beast? Would he dig his nails into your skin as he got carried away? Would he fuck you from behind like an animal? Did he have a deep-rooted urge to fill you with his seed and watch you swell with his pups...?

“YN? You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Remus’s voice shook you from your depraved thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, letting out a shaky breath. Your knees were wobbly and you could feel heat and wetness pooling in your knickers. You would most certainly be fucking yourself tonight thinking of him.

“I said we’re at my rooms. You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of tea if you like? Might have something stronger in a cupboard somewhere for a nightcap,” he said, smirking slightly. Were your eyes deceiving you or did he just lick his lips?

“I... Er... yes please?” You said, nibbling your lip. Your midnight masturbation would have to wait tonight it seemed. You took a seat on one of Lupin’s armchairs as he pottered about the kitchenette, fixing tea for you both. He soon carried it over and sat opposite you as you sipped at your drinks, once again silent. Remus inhaled deeply through his nose and leg out a soft sigh, before fixing you with a stare, his eyes flashing amber- or was that just the firelight playing tricks?

“God, I wish I was a legilimens,” he hummed. You frowned, cocking up your eye brow and setting your teacup down.

“Why’s that?” You asked, leaning forward, your lips slightly parted.

“Because I’d be able to figure out what’s got you so aroused,” he murmured. You gulped, biting your lip hard as you stared at one another before your lips were smashed together in a messy, desperate kiss. Your teeth clashed and you were both grabbing handfuls of the other’s hair as Remus pulled you into his lap, moaning lowly. “I guess that answers that question,” he grunted as you tipped your head back and sighed.

“H-how did you know?” You gasped as his teeth scraped right over your pulse point.

“Your eyes glaze over when you daydream,” he grinned, nibbling your earlobe. “And do you want to know a lesser-known fact about werewolves?” You nodded eagerly, your nails scraping over his scalp. “Around and on the full moon, our senses peak. Touch, hearing, sight, taste... smell... I could smell your arousal before we were even on the same corridor, YN... now tell me... was that all for me?”

You shuddered as his growl vibrates through your throat. “Yes!” You whimpered, trying to grind on him, but there were too many layers between you both and you whined out dejectedly. “A-all for you, Remus, f-for ages now!” Remus grunted and licked at the blood vessel at the side of your neck, you pulse throbbing against his tongue.

“I know, darling. Moony knows...” you sighed softly, eyes rolling back as you felt gentle hands on your waist, stilling your movements. “If we carry on, YN... Moony will take over. He will claim you as his mate, eternally. If that is what you want, I am more than happy to oblige, but if you are even a shred unsure, please leave my chambers. We can discuss this after the moon when it is safe-”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for ages... please, remus, I’m yours. I’ve felt... drawn to you since we met. It makes sense,”

He smiled weakly. “You understand what you are getting yourself into, this close to the moon? Our first coupling together will not be tender. Passionate, most certainly, but by no means gentle,” you could feel his hands trembling from the effort of keeping control.

“I’m yours, remus,” you whispered, bringing one of his hands down to cup your soaked, clothed heat, biting your lip hard. “I want this. Please, remus, mate with me,”

It was as if something snapped inside him. Without the aid of your hand, he pressed his hand into your heat, feeling how slick you were even through your knickers, attacking your neck with feverish kisses as you rutted against his hand, the heel of his palm mashing into your clit in the most deliciously searing way. Reluctantly, remus pulled his hand away, kissing away your whimpers of protest as he carried you to his bedroom, flinging you down on the bed and hovering over you, his thumb and forefinger tracing the hem of your shirt. “Take it off, remus,” you begged, and he was all too happy to oblige, soon stripping you to your underwear. Gulping, he looked you in the eye as he trailed one finger up your navel, grinning as you shivered and arched your back. “Need to feel you, Remus, please!” You pleaded. Normally, remus would be unwilling to undress fully, ashamed of his scars, but this close to the Moon, he had only one thing on his mind. Almost comically quickly, he tugged his jumper, shirt and trousers off, kicking them aside, practically pouncing on you to kiss you again. You pouted at not being quite able to see his erection straining at his boxers, but were quickly consoled when you felt it pressing hard against your thighs.

“Remus!” You moaned, trailing your hands up his strong back, your fingertips dancing over the silvery ridges of his scars, clutching onto him as though your life depended on it. You could feel the heat radiating off him, hear his pulse quickening just like your own, hear him panting above you. You were so close to him, yet so far, your underwear providing an unbearably wide wall between you both as you longed to feel him against your most sensitive parts. As if reading your mind, remus briefly pulled away and with a flick of his wand, you were both completely bare. Mouth ajar, you eyed up his cock, feeling your cunt clench around nothing at just the thought of accommodating his throbbing length and girth. Sensing your worry, remus nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed your pulse point gently. “I won’t hurt you, darling,” he whispered. “Nor will Moony,” nodding, you spread your legs. Remus groaned as he inhaled, already getting drunk off the scent of your soaked nether region. “Another time, my dear, I am going to drink from your cunt until you can’t come any more,”

You shivered and nodded, biting your lip. “That had best be a promise,” you moaned out, pushing his hair out of his face, breathy gasps and moans escaping you as you felt the bulbous head of his cock tapping against your throbbing clit. “Please, remus,” you begged, your legs moving instinctively to wrap around him.

Your begging was all he needed. He pushed his thick cock into you, stretching you out, grasping your hips to stop your wiggling as he revelled in the soaking heat of your clenching channel, soon moving his hands to grasp your thighs and hold them further apart. “I am going to mate with you, yn,” he growled. “I am going to claim you as mine, and I will be yours. I will fill you with my seed until your swollen with my pups. And when I come, you will feel my cock swell inside you to make sure my seed takes root,”

The filth spewing from his lips had your head reeling, and you bucked your hips up eagerly, begging him to do all of those things as he began fucking you relentlessly, the sounds of skin slapping and the wet noises of your coupling filling the small room as you gripped onto eachother. Remus’s lips found yours and you moaned loudly into his mouth as his tongue collided with yours before he sucked on it gently, sending jolts of pleasure sizzling through your every nerve. You had never felt more alive, more full, more worshiped than you did in that moment, your nails dug into remus’s arms as his thrusting became sloppy as he neared his end. “P-please don’t stop, Remus! Don’t pull out, please! Need to feel you fill me up properly!” You cried, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus grunted and nodded, his hips snapping hard against yours as he neared his peak.

“Bite my neck, YN, love!” He grunted. “Mark me as your mate while I do the same to- Ah! Fuck! Good girl!” You sunk your teeth into his pulse point, sucking harshly. Instinctively, you knew just where to bite, and you gently licked over the wound, moaning lowly as you felt the base of his cock begin to swell as he stilled inside you, the first spurt of cum painting your walls as his groaned out lowly. He basked in his orgasm for a brief moment, before leaning down to suck and bite your neck the same way you had.

You screamed.

The bite to your neck caused a white-hot surge of pleasure to rip through you as you felt your trembling body come undone, your stretched walls clenching tight around Remus’s swollen cock, milking every last drop out of him as you panted, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure and the rush of hormones your mating had caused.

Cooing gently, remus lowered you carefully onto your side, facing him, his cock still swollen inside you for the time being. The slight movement had you whimpering and Reaching up to kiss him messily. “I love you,” you moaned, hiding your face in his neck as your body relaxed.

Remus smiled gently and kissed your head and face over and over, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry it was so intense, darling. It’s not always like that, I promise,” he whispered.

“N-no... I loved that. The connection, both emotional and... physical,” you reached up and stroked the tender bite at your throat, shuddering as it twinged. “I am yours,” you murmured, reaching to kiss him gently.

“And I am yours,” he responded, stroking your hair. “My beautiful, beautiful mate, I love you,”

Soon, his cock softened enough to slip out of you, and you groaned softly, already very achey from your coupling. Remus smiled apologetically and spelled away the remnants of your pleasure, tugging the covers up around you. Instinctively, you massaged your lower belly, although you knew it was unlikely that he had knocked you up so soon, especially as you were on wizarding contraceptives. You frowned slightly, a sad twinge rattling your innermost instincts. Remus laughed gently.

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon you will swell with my pups. Just not quite yet,” he said gently, knowing that your mating would have unlocked something deep rooted in your instincts, something rather maternal. You pouted a little but nodded, curling into his side. He was right. There would be plenty of time for breeding later. Before then, you and your mate had some catching up to do before the full moon...

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @dracosbbygorl

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mememachine132 · 3 years ago

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More LU headcannons, because I’ve stumbled headfirst back into my obsession with this comic and this one actually shows my favoritism whoops.

- Wolfie’s shadow is still twilight shaped. This one is both very cool and aesthetic and also hilarious as hell - because how oblivious do the chain have to be to miss the fact that wolfie doesn’t have the right shadow.

- Four is like, scarily observant. He just sorta Knows things. This leads to increasingly awkward scenarios where he doesn’t realize something was supposed to be secret and just sorta casually drops it into conversation. ( like, him and twi are out hunting for herbs or something and they can’t find any so four just goes, “you should just turn into wolfie and sniff for them.” And twi’s like ???, then four goes “wait, was that supposed to be secret - twilight, you aren’t very discrete if it was, please tell me you weren’t trying to keep that secret, please -“)

- legend has all of the sleep based trauma, and this leads him to both avoiding sleep like he owes it money and not sleeping very restfully when he does need to sleep. As a result of that, he has eyes bags the size of china, and always looks a few seconds away from passing out.

- Four straight up doesn’t have a shadow. It’s just not there, everyone knows this but no one is brave enough to ask why. He looks like a badly rendered video game character ha

- legend is actually quite a bit weaker than your average joe, mainly because of his reliance on power bracelets. In the beginning, it was just more convenient to keep them on, but his muscles started to atrophy a bit and now he kinda needs them. The man can’t lift a pot without the things.

- what with Wilds long hair and his . . . wild nature, sticks and leaves often get caught up in it, he can’t be bothered to brush them out so he just leaves them there - Warriors takes the greatest of offence to this and often bodily takes him to clean his hair.

- Wind is like, scarily sneaky. It doesn’t even make sense half the time, you just blink and suddenly he’s there. At least half the chain are convinced he’s got some sorta passive blessing that makes him harder to notice, like the stone mask.

- hyrule lowkey doesn’t know how to read. That’s what you get when you grow up in a cave I guess. Legends teaching him.

- Twilight blends into the shadows a bit. Like, his edges blur when he’s standing in them and his eyes glow a bit.

- Sky has lightning scars all up his arms from the battle with Demise. I don’t care if you’ve got the divine sword on your side, you don’t just catch lightning with your sword and not come away with some marks.

- When Four first reformed after Four Swords his tunic was not evenly divided into four quarters as it is now. they were jagged and messy, like if, instead of cutting four tunics into quarters and sewing them together, you had ripped them apart with your bare hands then sewed them. Some bits were bigger and some smaller and it wasn’t at all uniform.

- Legend’s natural hair color is pink, but during that stint in which he was a wanted criminal he dyed it blonde because pink was far to recognizable. He’s kept it up ever since. The only reason he left a streak was because Marin said she liked his pink hair and he’s a sentimental bastard and also very sad.

#Four and Legend are my favorites and it shows #oh boy does it show #linked universe wild #linked universe wind #linked universe twilight #linked universe four #linked universe hyrule #linked universe sky #linked universe

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alltheficsiwant · 2 years ago

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Same Old Hawkins, Or Not | Part Six

PART Six | UTAH

Summary: Finally, the reader tells the things she wanted to forget from the very beginning to the two most important people in her life. Now its up to them if they still wanted to stay or do they want to run... from her.

Warning: Graphic violence, dark themes ( Attempted Rape and Abuse). If you are triggered about these topics. Please read with caution or skip the part with !!! and continue on after the second !!!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

Words: 4.9k

Note: We are nearing the end! This chapter is like 90% flashback from reader's experience in Utah. Whatever places and events that I wrote doesn't relate to any real life experience. If it does, this is purely coincidence since the story is fictional. Please reblog and tell me what you think about it through the comics. My ask is currently not available. I don't even know why.

PART Four | PART Five | SERIES Masterlist

After you told them those words, Steve and Eddie’s eyes widened and you knew you rendered them speechless. So instead you jumped in telling them what you’ve been trying to forget.

You knew the moment that the phone rang in the middle of the night, you knew it was a call you wouldn’t like. But you answered it anyway and really, you weren’t shocked about your father’s death. You saw it coming.

The moment you and him set foot to Utah, he was a dead man walking. Emotionally and sooner you knew it would manifest physically. It did as you listened to the sympathetic voice of your father’s supervisor in the Utah Labs.

Though what shocked you was the reason behind. Poisoning? You call bullshit. Your father is a fucking neat freak. Something you picked up on regretfully as the years progressed. He is also a fucking genius chemist. He knows how to fucking mix chemicals even when half asleep. You just knew there was something more. Though, you tried to decide if you would want to dwell on it or not.

You had your suspicions when he insisted on having his “home office” in an apartment building that he never told you where it was. You never asked, you don’t want to deal with it. After all, he doesn’t want to deal with you after what your mother did. You thought that if he kept everything about his work a secret or whatever your father is involved with in his work. He doesn’t want you on it.

Well, what a twisted way to protect you. Not being present to any life events. Barely even there even when you bought your bike at 16 with the money he always gives you without fail during your birthday.

You knew something did not sit well but you accepted it. You accept the protection your father gave you and for that you are grateful. You loved him, he’s your father after all but you knew he wasn’t a good one to you.

A few days later, your Uncle Harold flew out alone to help you with the funeral arrangements and everything else. You were hoping Steve would be there. Someone you can find comfort in, but unfortunately, or rather fortunately. He didn’t come. It was for the better.

You just turned 18 that time, making you eligible in handling your finances now that you are in legal age. Your father left a will and left everything of his possession to you. You didn’t think of it until the night before the final day of the funeral. You saw that you also inherited the apartment building where his home office was. You decided not to mention it to anyone. Big mistake though.

The day of the funeral, you were set to move out of Utah to Hawkins three days from the day you buried your father. You wanted to go as soon as possible but your Uncle Harold would have to fly out after the funeral. You had to stay to see to it that your belongings will be shipped to Hawkins the next day then two days later after finishing loose ends. You’ll leave just in time to continue your senior at Hawkins High.

It was a good plan, giving you time to say goodbye to your friends.

So you let the funeral run by and try no to wince every time people looked at you with pity. Yes, your father might have died but there is no reason to pity you. It's still not the end of the world. You also bid goodbye to your Uncle Harold the same day.

Though as soon as he disappeared from your sight, you felt a shiver down your spine. As if your gut sensed something bad is going to happen. You choked it up by burying your father six feet underground. You should have listened.

The next day, you were supposed to meet with the movers but decided to go to the hangout den your friends go to before you met them. You drank with them and played your final D and D game before saying your final goodbyes. You left when they informed you that they are five minutes out.

You thought you could catch up to them, though as you cruised along the road you noticed a black van following you around. You already saw the earlier on thinking it was just coincidence but seeing it again. The familia shiver you felt the day before you came.

You watched horror movies or even thriller action ones. You know what would be the outcome if you try to mislead them but you were hoping you know the streets of Utah more than them. You’re wrong. God, how stupid you were to make decisions back then.

You led them on an unknown tunnel, hoping once you come out, you’ll rev up and speed to the highway then circle back around. You never had the chance to come out of the other side as the last thing you remembered was bright lights on the other side. Then blackness.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in an unknown room and tied up.

!!!

You panicked a bit as you adjusted looking around the unknown room. You remembered your body is aching. Especially your back as you remembered letting go of your bike and scratching it against the pavement as you fell. You tried to sit up but stumbled back as you realized your hands are tied behind you.

You groaned at that, before you could do anything else the door opened. You watched as two men entered the room. The two of them are dressed casually and they looked to be the same age as your father. You watched them wearily as they stood there. They were conversing in hushed tones.

“Who are you?” You decided to speak. Your voice cracked a bit. Fuck, how long was you out?

“Ahh, the little girl is awake,” The man with a plaid shirt mused while the other dressed in a tight black shirt turned to you with a smirk. Then he greeted you with your name, making you look at him with wide eyes.

“How do you know me? Who the fuck are you?” you spat at him as you looked around the room. It looked abandoned but judging by the mattress you are currently on and the table with one chair. It was quite lived in. Oddly, you felt like you should know that place but you didn’t.

“Well, it looks like your father never tells you about his officemates huh?” The man in the black shirt said as he moved towards you. He grabbed your arm to make you stand up and you started to fight him. Finally gaining some strength but you are just a tiny human. He was like a solid brick wall and threw you over the chair.

The man in the plaid shirt just leaned on the wall against the door as he watched. Amusement swimming in his eyes.

“It's nice to finally meet you,” The man in the black shirt continued talking as if he didn’t just manhandle you. His eyes darkened as he looked over at your body. “Didn’t know that Nate keeps this pretty thing,”

“Come on now K, we are here to gather information.” The man in the plaid shirt said. Though it was sarcastic, you can tell. You use that tone too many times. The man in the black shirt laughed.

“Yes I know but it's no harm in having fun,” Then he turned back to you. “Now, before we go, have fun. You have to answer a few questions,”

“Before you asked, I don’t fucking know a thing about what my father does,” You told them straight. Now wanting to prolong this experience and also, you know it was hopeless that you would get out of here unscathed. “If you are going to ask anything about it. All I can give you is an apartment number and the address,”

The man in the black shirt raised his brows at you. His eyes told you that he was shocked that you are giving that up so easily. Well, you still didn’t know why your father kept it from you and since you are the owner of the place now. You can do anything to it as it pleases you and if it's going to be that or your life. You choose to give that up.

The man in the plaid shirt laughed. “That’s funny, we do not need to know that. We are already here,”

Your brows furrowed as you looked around. Finally talking about the place in. It was hard given that the lights were dimmed a bit but as you looked around. You noticed that there are marks of furniture being there but now it's not. Marks of cabinets can be seen and when you looked over the table, you noticed cables of where a computer was supposed to be there.

This is the apartment? Well, shit.

“What we need to know—” The man in the black shirt said as he reached out behind him to brandish a knife. Your eyes widened at it as he brought it right in front of your cheeks as he grew closer. He put the blunt end over your cheeks as he stopped inches from your face. “--- is where all the shit in this apartment has gone huh?”

“I-I don’t know,” you told him shakily.

“Tsk, let’s try that again, pretty girl,” the man in the black shirt said as he ran the blunt end of the blade until it landed on the top button of your blouse. You had worn your red long sleeved shirt over your biker jacket. Thank God you are wearing pants and not a skirt at that time or it would be more unbearable. “Tell us where your father kept it?! Tell us!”

“I don’t even know what he kept from you!” you told him and the next thing you knew, searing pain came and you looked down to see he nicked you a few inches below your collarbone.

“You won’t speak. Well, you are going to open that mouth after this!” The man in the black shirt said and then you felt searing pain on your left cheeks. His hand meeting your cheek, the sound echoed harshly inside the room.

You felt tears start to fall from your eyes as you cried out. He continues to slap you again this time on the other side before grabbing your chin.

“Talk,”

“I’m talking! I don't know where or what it is! I just learned I already owned the apartment but I never came here!” You pleaded but it's as if he didn’t hear you as he brought the knife again this time easily nicked the first button of your blouse and then another not even carefully as he nicked you again. You hissed at that.

“Tell us now or we won’t stop and do worse bitch!” He delivered another slap and that started your thrashing. You trashed to the point that you tilted the chair and landed on the floor.

“Please let me go! Let me— ah!” You shouted as the man in the plaid shirt joined the fray. When you were able to sit up, he slammed you back down on the floor. You cried out at the pain. The bruises you obtain from the crash are still fresh.

“If you are not going to be useful. We might as well find something to do with you.” The man in the plaid shirt said. Then they turned you over as they watched you struggle. The man in the black shirt, K, you remembered he was called. Cut the rope on your wrist and you took the opportunity to trash more. Though the man in the plaid shirt anticipated it and this time slammed you back down on the floor. You cried as black spots started to appear in your eyes. Fuck you can’t lose consciousness now.

“You fucking stay down,” the man in the plaid shirt said as you tried to wiggle your wrist from his grip but to no avail he has you pinned down. K, straddle your waist and lean down with his knife back on the buttons of your blouse.

“You think you can just tell us you know nothing? Your father treated you like a fucking treasure that no one should touch just like he did with his work back at the office,” He said as he looked over at you. Your skin crawled as he traced you with his eyes. “Good thing we killed him. We can have his work now and you,”

“No! Please! Stop!” You cried out and the two of them just laughed.

“You are a pretty girl, why don’t you give us a show?” K said as he ignored you please. Your mind is racing as you watch helplessly. You got to get the fuck out of here, you fucking must. He was already halfway through your blouse. The knife he was using was sharp as you felt it knick you a couple of times but you remained to struggle. Despite the sharpness of it and the fear of being slashed. Your will to escape is greater.

“Please stop! Let me go! I don’t know anything at all!”

The man laughed as he continued to cut through your blouse. He is on the last three buttons that lay across your stomach.

“Look at you! So pretty!” He exclaimed as he stopped and examined you. He ran his knife on your stomach, the blunt side before he leaned down. You looked at the side as tears fell from your eyes. Your hands are pinned down by the other man as he laughed at the scene.

“We will surely enjoy this! If you won’t talk maybe we can use your mouth for something else,”

Then you felt him move a bit down and felt his crotch touch your knee. You felt his knife going through the last three buttons.

“You are ours to—”

!!!!

You didn’t think anymore as you just gathered the strength you have left and slammed your knee against it. K cried out and he accidentally slashed your stomach. You cried too but then the other man unconsciously loosened his grip and as you trashed because of the pain. You snatched your wrist away from him.

As you sat up, you felt him drag you back on the floor. You're back already filled with bruises slammed on it making you cry out. Your hands frantically moved over the floor until you felt the hilt of the knife.

“You fucking—- argh!” The man shouted as you used the knife to slice his hand. You stood up as you held your stomach to stop its bleeding. You kicked the head of the man that held you down as hard as you could with your boots. You didn’t bother to look around as you opened the door.

Before you could even step outside, you felt a hand grab the back of your blouse. It was already opened revealing the plethora of bruises and cuts and it was soaked through by your blood. You got dragged back a bit and you hit a solid chest.

“Where the fuck do you think— fucking hell!” You slammed the knife on his thigh to make you let go. You didn’t bother to get the knife, you just ran out of there. You are met with a living room and went straight towards the main door. As soon as you opened it you just didn’t think and took a left and ran. Your eyes fixed on the fire exit. You heard a shout behind you but you didn’t stop.

You were able to slip through the door but then a loud gun shot was heard and you hissed as you looked down to see that you were grazed by your waist.

“Get back here!” You didn’t bother to turn around. You bolted and willed yourself to run faster. Adrenaline probably is what keeps you up and about. The next thing you know, your feet took you to the basement parking lot. You cursed. You just fucking wished they took your bike or else it was another thing—

There! Thank fuck! You saw your scratched bike. They took it and parked it beside an unmarked van. You hurriedly moved towards it hearing the thundering of feet from the stairs. You wasted no time running over it. Your helmet is gone but you can fucking manage. You are already bleeding and you need to get out of there.

You searched for the taped spare key you placed in the bike. You have the tendency to lose it so you always have a spare key taped on the bike itself in which only your tiny hands could get to. You reached under the seat and looked towards the staircase until you felt it. Wasting no time, you took it between your fingers. You were just about to rev up your bike when K and several men burst out of the staircase.

You wasted no time and took off. Ducking and wincing as you heard gunshots popped and aimed at you. All of them missed as you swerved expertly while you looked around for exit. When you found it, you didn’t hesitate even when you heard tires screeching behind. You just knew you gotta get out of it.

There was a chase you could remember but no gunshots. You could feel your body getting heavier by the minute as you glanced down and saw that apparently, they grazed you again as you bleed just below your breast. You were bleeding all over your bike.

“Shit shit shit,” You can’t help but curse as you zoomed past a stoplight. You heard severe tires screeching at the distance but you didn’t dare to turn around. You just drove and the next thing you knew. You crashed, again but this time right in front of Utah General. You remembered stumbling on the ground as a group of doctors and nurses probably on break tended to you immediately.

The last thing you remember was you being placed in a stretcher and doctor’s frantically asking you questions. You tried really but all you can feel was the adrenaline running out of you and your body weakening by the loss of blood. Then you blacked out.

You finished your recollection of that night, your eyes closed tight as you will yourself to stop shaking. You didn’t dare to see their expression but they were quiet. Too quiet so you continue to talk.

“There was no major surgery but I had bruised bones and lost a lot of blood. My back was a bit fucked up but it was my front that took a lot of cuts and the grazes from the gun shots. The doctors told me I was lucky and that I was smart to bring myself to the hospital as soon as possible.” You told them. “Though, I was knocked out for three consecutive days. In and out because I was fatigued.”

“When I woke up, the police were there and informed me that the Utah Labs that my father worked at was seized the next day of my alleged crash. An anonymous person gave them my father’s files and everything he worked on to the Utah PD about the company making date rape drugs and they were working with an underground laboratory that do human experiments.” You continued as you felt the two boys not even reacting or saying anything. “They were able to arrest everyone. They told me if what happened to me three days ago is connected to the case. They would need my statement.”

“So I told them everything in the condition that they won’t say my name or my father for the whole duration of the case. That is why it took me a week to finally go back to Hawkins. I had to make the bruises fade a bit enough for the concealer,” You finished. This time you welcomed the silence and hugged yourself closer if that was even possible.

You didn’t know how long the silence had gone and you refused to look at them. Afraid of their expressions.

Then someone called your name so gently, that if it's not quite you wouldn’t hear it but you did. You weren’t sure who it was but you didn’t comply instead you shook your head.

“Please look at me,” The voice said and as it neared you knew who it was. Steve. Still you refused to do so. You heard a sigh and then slowly you felt a hand hover over your arms. You flinched, not because the touch is unwelcome. You just knew that if one of them touched you. You would crumble. You are barely holding it together.

“You’re safe here. It's okay, just please look at me,” Steve pleaded and finally had enough of it. You forced your eyes open and as you dared to look at Steve. You see his disheveled look. His hair looked to be run through by his fingers too many times and his eyes were brimming with tears. The first time you saw him shed some tears, not even when Nancy dumped him for Jonathan. Though, you expected pity on them just like the first day but no. It wasn’t pity you knew that for sure.

It wasn't pity. It was– guilt. Why would he be guilty when you are just thankful that he isn’t—

“I knew something was off the moment I saw you,” he spoke softly as he looked over at you as he let his tears fall. “I thought Uncle Nate did things to you and I was angry. So angry but hearing what happened that night. I just wished I insisted on coming. I could have helped. I-I could have prevented—”

“No,” you quickly interjected as you shook your head. “No, Steve. If you were there, they could have done worse on you too. I-I don’t want that.” You cried as you looked back at him. “I already lost my father. I can’t lose you too,”

Steve shook his head. “But still– I could have protected you against Billy. D-dustin told me what happened the night Billy came into the Byers house. The panic attack. I could have protected you—”

“It was just an unfortunate thing to happen Steve. You shouldn’t burden yourself on that.” You told him that. “I was just relieved that you and Uncle Harold were unharm.”

Steve released a breath before he wiped the tears that fell from his cheeks. “Still, forgive me Squirt?”

“There is nothing to forgive, Jerk,” You told him and this time when he reached out for you. You willingly went in his arms. There you let yourself crumble as you cried out against his chest and Steve held you close. You didn’t know how long you stayed there but soon Steve laid a kiss on the top of your head.

“I-I just need to take a walk though. Need to just let this flow through my system but whatever you need. You can come to me. You know that right,” Steve looked at you as he wiped your tears. You nodded and you let him go. He then looked over at Eddie, you still haven’t looked at him but you saw Steve gave a knowing look then looked over at you.

With that he offered a small smile as he sniffled and proceeded to walk out of the living room and out of the house. Silence yet again enveloped the house as you remained in your position. Afraid on talking or even—

“Nothing changed,” Eddie suddenly spoke and that made you look at him. Eddie though, you expected that in some way, he would look at you with pity. That’s what everybody did when they learned what happened to you but it was the same expression he gave you when you decided to tell them everything. It didn’t change. Pure Adoration. “It just made me more taken with you,”

“Eddie,” You started. “I-I might not be the best person to have a relationship now. I-I would have issues with somethings–”

“We have time,” Eddie cut you off as he finally closed the distance between the two of you. He dragged himself to sit in front of you. You didn’t move, afraid to touch him too but Eddie didn’t touch you too. Instead he offered his hands, palms up. “I’m a patient man despite popular belief,” He offered a small smile as you looked down at his hands.

“We’ll go at your pace and I would just follow along sweetheart,” He added.

“Are you sure? You told me that your life is fucked up—”

“Nope, nope! No comparing how my life or others life is fucked up.” Eddie yet again cut you off. “We all have our own battles. I just decided that I want to help you fight yours. Now what say m’lady?”

He offered this time one of his hands and bowed. You stared at it but instead of taking his hand to hold. You held it and pulled his arms open as you crashed in it. Hugging him like there is not tomorrow. Eddie hugged you back, his arms just like that night, came around you like steel bands. Safe. You feel fucking safe again.

“Oh my baby, you are so strong and so brave.” Eddie started to mumble against your ear and you didn’t know you needed to hear that. But fuck, Eddie Munson just knows what to say to you. As soon as you heard those words, you crumbled again. This time you quite literally put yourself on his lap. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulder while you buried your face on his neck.

Eddie didn’t mind as he pulled you against him tighter if that was possible. He proceeds to tell you sweet things as he lets you cry. Again, you didn’t know how long you were in his arms though slowly you felt the heaviness on your bones.

Tired for the day and Eddie must have felt it as he carefully shifted you until he could carry you like a bride. You easily molded yourself in his arms but didn’t remove your head on his neck. Sleep started to creep on you. You felt Eddie stand and was about to move when you heard the front door open.

“Oh, she’s asleep?” Steve asked. You felt Eddie shifted you a bit before he answered.

“Getting there, i’ll go tuck her in for the night. If that’s alright?” Eddie asked.

“I-I can take her—” You clutched onto Eddie a bit tighter. No offense to Steve but you were quite comfortable in Eddie’s arms and you didn’t want the feeling of being safe to leave you. Steve must have noticed before he cut himself off before you heard him sigh. “— do you want me to lead you to her room?”

“Please,”

The next thing you know, you were being laid on your bed. You briefly opened your eyes to look at them sleepily.

“I-I should go—”

“That’s right—”

Before Eddie could move, your hands reached out to hold the sleeve of his leather jacket. Eddie abruptly stopped and looked at you while Steve did the same.

“Can you please stay?” You just asked quietly as you looked over at Steve. “I want Eddie to stay,”

You watched as the two men looked at each other. Steve narrowed his eyes while Eddie just looked back at him. They weren’t moving or speaking but despite your sleep-addled brain you can see the both of them talking. Then Steve sighed.

“Okay, but no funny business,” Steve pointed at the two of you. “And no locking of doors,”

This time you can’t help but snort but Steve just sternly looked at you. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes mom. Can you just leave?” You told him as you tugged Eddie and scooted over your bed. Steve sighed and gave one final look at Eddie.

“I mean it, Munson. No funny business while I’m in the house,” Steve said as he started to walk out. “The walls are thin,” He grumbled to himself.

You cuddle up to Eddie who removed his leather jacket and just laid it on the floor beside the bed. You didn’t see the mischievous look that took place on Eddie’s face after what Steve said.

“So, if you are not in the house, funny business is on?” Eddie asked and you can’t help but snort at that. The events are still heavy on you but you can’t help but find it funny and comforting to have Steve and Eddie banter.

“Jesus Christ! You are putting images in my head that shouldn’t be there,” Steve said and with that he ran out of there. He slammed the door though but shouted “Do not fucking lock this!” before you heard him stomp back to his room.

Eddie wrapped an arm around you as the both of you settled. You finally started to let sleep take over you but then your eyes abruptly opened as you lifted your head to look at Eddie.

“What is it Sweetheart?”

You stared at him for a while before talking. “You have to take me to a date first,”

Eddie smiled at that and pulled you back in his arms. You snuggled against his chest at that, though you didn’t close your eyes yet.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart. I intend to take you on the best first date of your life,”

“I’m holding you that Munson,”

To be continued.

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