#this is more a modern au thing but a hint of burnt coffee also comes to mind

[aeipathic]

@pcachlovc​ says: for wen qing: medicinal herbs/ointment, petrichor, old parchment and ink, burnt metal

     meme || accepting

oh, i love this. i definitely think she tends to be associated with sharp smells — bitter or medicinal scents that linger on her hands.

[hongism]

sway with me - part two

↣ pairing: vampire!seonghwa x fem reader x ??? ↣ side pairings: mingi x jongho, wooyoung x hongjoong, hongjoong x yunho, wooyoung x san ↣ synopsis: you aren’t even sure why you agreed to go to a vampire nightclub with your best friend. it was a lapse of judgment on your part for certain, and because of it, you can’t get your mind off the man you met there. ↣ rating: M/18+ ↣ genre: angst, fluff, smut, s2l, modern fantasy + vampire au ↣ warnings: language ↣ word count: 4.4k

previous | masterlist

↢  ♡  ↣ 

Waking up shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. 

Despite being completely sober the night before, you still cannot recall much of what happened prior to Seonghwa bringing you home. What happened after, however, is at the forefront of your mind, but not because you got the most mind-blowing sex of your life. You were robbed of a good fuck thanks to your roommate sitting on the couch when you stumbled into the apartment connected by the lips with Seonghwa. You feel bad looking back because you and Hongjoong had an agreement not to bring anyone home while the other was in the apartment. You overlooked that because — well frankly, you glossed over that rule because Seonghwa is just that hot, and passing up on that opportunity would have been positively tragic. While you took the chance to bring him home, you still got left feeling sorely disappointed when Seonghwa pulled you off to bed without even a quick round of sex out of “respect” for your roommate. (Hongjoong doesn’t need more respect than he gets — his ego is big enough as it is, in your opinion, but Seonghwa wouldn’t know that).

Speaking of Seonghwa, as you come more into the land of the living, you realize that the bed is only dipped under your body, and upon patting around on the mattress some, you find that Seonghwa is no longer with you. You roll onto your side to stare at the empty space next to you, and a huff of air passes through your lips without you realizing it. Seonghwa most likely left during the night, now that you think about it, since he can’t very well walk out in broad daylight without getting burnt to a crisp by sunlight. That also leaves you wondering why he got in bed with you in the first place knowing that he wouldn’t stay or sleep a wink throughout the night.

You push the thought to the back of your mind in favor of slipping out of bed, letting your nightshirt fall back to rest around the midpoint of your thighs. Standing up is a struggle in and of itself; the moment you lift your head, a searing pain shoots through your neck, and you release a small whimper as the feeling spreads to your shoulder.

Must’ve slept on my neck wrong, you think before forcing your body up and towards the bathroom. The next thing to hit you is disbelief, because walking past the mirror makes you do a double-take and choke on your saliva. A dark purple bruise encompasses the base of your neck, two identical puncture wounds flushed a deep red centered in the bruise, and you lift a hesitant hand to brush your fingers over the mark. The bite is at least closed and not oozing any blood, but it’s still ugly and unpleasant to look at. Knowing Hongjoong, he will roast you to high heaven the moment he sees the dramatic hickey, and you aren’t about to risk three weeks worth of jokes that your best friend will inevitably join in on as well.

Seonghwa could have warned you that the bite mark would be so… visible, but you honestly doubt that you would have retained that information anyway since you were preoccupied with thoughts of desire and arousal.

“Fuck,” you curse, reaching for whatever stray piece of clothing you can find to help cover the mark. You have to drag an old pair of shorts out as well and tuck your shirt up under the sweatshirt you slip over your head. Once you have amply hidden all evidence of the mark and freed (read — hopefully) yourself of Hongjoong’s ridicule, you dare to step out of your room.

The first thing to hit you is the overwhelming stench of burnt toast, but you can hardly focus on that once your eyes hone in on the man sitting at your counter. He looks so sorely out of place in your home that you have to blink a few times before you truly believe that he’s sitting there, but for once, your eyes don’t deceive you.

It is, in fact, Seonghwa sitting at your counter with your dark-haired roommate perched across from him. Hongjoong doesn’t spare you a glance as you push further into the kitchen; he maintains his unreadable stare while clenching the edge of the counter so tight that his knuckles bleed white.

“I made breakfast,” Hongjoong states once you reach his peripheral. Seonghwa shifts to glance at you, and a small smile stretches his lips. A half-full mug of what seems to be coffee before him on the marble, pale fingers tracing the rim in slow circles, and a glint to his dark eyes that has you swallowing around nothing. Even if the tension hanging between your roommate and the vampire wasn’t present, you would still feel on edge just from the awkwardness in Seonghwa’s calm actions.

“He made co—”

“I made coffee too,” Hongjoong interjects before Seonghwa can finish his thought. The vampire doesn’t seem bothered by the interruption in the slightest, and he offers a broader grin in Hongjoong’s direction. “It’s in the pot.”

“Got it…” You mumble, slipping around Hongjoong to grab for a mug. Your roommate maintains his steady stare on the man across the counter, and you only realize what he’s attempting to do once you fill your mug halfway. “I don’t think he’s intimidated by you.”

“He seems pretty intimidated to me, thank you very much,” Hongjoong scoffs. He shifts to glare daggers into the back of your head, but you merely offer a small hum of denial.

“Joong, you are as intimidating as a field mouse. I don’t think he’s scared at all.”

“Excuse you — did you forget that time a mouse crawl up Wooyoung’s pants? That was rather terrifying.” You’ve taken his full attention now, causing the man to turn to you with an expression of disbelief over his features, and you return it with a gentle smile.

“Because he shrieked like a banshee. That’s the only reason it was scary, not because the mouse itself was scary,” you reason as you try to hold back a laugh. Hongjoong’s antics have brought a welcome break in the strange and lingering tension hanging about the kitchen, and you don’t miss a beat as you return his lighthearted tone.

“I’m just saying that I am very scary, and he’s not saying anything, so that means he’s scared.”

“If he wishes to believe that he’s intimidating, then I can agree to those menial terms,” Seonghwa interrupts. His tone reminds you why you were so drawn to him the night before with its cool overtones that remain laced with a hint of sultriness in every saccharine word he speaks. You’re certain that you look a little starstruck as you stare at him now, jaw hanging agape as your eyes drag over his sharp features before lingering a bit on those cherry red lips. Maybe it’s partially due to him being a vampire but you can hardly believe that any being – immortal or not – could look so good in the morning. You shake your head free of those thoughts, trying to focus on anything but the all too good-looking vampire not too far away, and instead resume your half-hearted ridicule of your roommate.

“Oh my god. Hongjoong, oh my god, did you hear that?” You’re practically asking for him to hit you although it would be worth it just to see the man riled up a little, and Seonghwa has opened a delightful door for you to step through.

“Shut up.”

“Hongjoong, he literally said he’s gonna fake being scared of you.”

“I can’t hear you,” Hongjoong huffs, puffing his cheeks full of air. He turns back to the stove where several slices of burnt toast reside, and you know it’s an attempt to hide himself from further embarrassment.

“He pities you, Hongjoong. Oh, you poor thing, that’s so embarrassing.”

“I actually don’t have ears so I can’t hear a word you’re saying right now!”

“God, I’m so glad I’m not you. That’s — wow, I wish Wooyoung could be here to witness this.” You place a hand over your chest as you try to bite back a laugh, glancing down at the counter to keep from laughing at Hongjoong’s disgruntled expression.

“I hate it here so fucking much,” Hongjoong grumbles. “I’m thrilled that Wooyoung isn’t here. He doesn’t need any more leverage over me at this point.” You purse your lips, barely containing the roll of your eyes as you look at the back of your roommate’s head, and it’s only then that you decide to turn to Seonghwa again.

“Um, do you… need anything? I – I’m not exactly sure what you guys e-eat outside of the obvious.”

“You mean blood?” Seonghwa asks the question so casually that it catches you off-guard, and it must have the same effect on Hongjoong as well because he chokes on his coffee and sputters into his mug. “Apologies, I forget how odd that can sound to humans.”

Seonghwa releases a small laugh. He brings a hand up to his hair and combs a few fingers through the dark locks there, and you find your gaze lingering on the motion a bit too long. If the vampire notices, he opts not to say anything in favor of continuing the topic at hand.

“Some vampires opt to eat the food you all need to survive but not out of necessity.”

“Because they’re gluttons?” You inquire as you toy with the handle of your mug.

“Hm, I suppose you could say that. Sometimes it’s a curiosity to see what it tastes like, just as I’ve had humans ask to taste my blood to see the same.” You must make a face of disgust because Seonghwa huffs out a laugh again and shakes his head. Beside him on the counter, the screen of a phone flashes. A loud ding echoes through the apartment’s small kitchen, and you blink down at the phone at the same time that Seonghwa does. “Ah, as much as I would love to stay and discuss all the inner workings of vampire culture and socialization, I believe that is my cue to go.”

“Have somewhere to be?” You ask, trying not to sound too disappointed in his early departure. Seonghwa’s long fingers dance over the granite counter before latching onto his phone, and he pulls it back without looking at the screen once. Seonghwa pulls his lips into a tight smile upon meeting your curious gaze.

“You could say that. Moreso that if the sun rises any higher then I’ll be burnt worse than that toast your roommate made earlier.”

“Hey!” Hongjoong protests, turning around to face the vampire with an expression of disbelief on his features. A knock at the front door interrupts whatever words were left on his tongue, and you exchange a confused glance with him at the sound. Unless Wooyoung is dropping by for a surprise visit at a bizarrely early hour for his lazy ass, you have no idea who could possibly be outside right now. Hongjoong places his mug down on the counter before stepping around the granite to make for the door.

“That would most likely be my friend here to pick me up.” The stool under Seonghwa protests loudly as he pushes it back, letting the scraping sound of metal on wood hit your ears in the most unpleasant manner. He pauses before moving in the direction Hongjoong went in and blinks at you over the counter. “I found our time together thoroughly enlightening, Miss Y/N.”

“So formal,” you mutter back, unable to do more than nod.

“Ah, well, to be lewd, I find it quite shameful that I couldn’t provide that real fun I promised to deliver.” You can’t contain the laugh that breaches your lips.

“If that’s your definition of lewd, then you need to spend five minutes with Hongjoong and our friend Wooyoung to learn the real definition of lewd talk.”

“Is that an invitation to see you again as well, Y/N?” Seonghwa’s question sounds innocent on your ears, but the underlying sultriness lies in his gaze. You don’t miss the way his eyes flit down to the neck of your hoodie and linger there. It’s almost as though he can see straight through it and right to the blossoming mark on your skin. You squirm a bit under his stare, which seems to please him quite a bit just based on the way his brows lift and one corner of his lips tugs upwards.

“That depends,” you utter after a small struggle to formulate the words.

“On what?”

“Maybe if we happen to stumble into each other at another club I’ll see it as a sign.” You hum the words, trying to seem as noncommital as possible, and Seonghwa’s only response is a dry laugh that rings in your ears long after it ends.

“Hyung.”

You don’t recognize the voice, and that’s what causes you to whip towards the source of it. All you see is a broad set of shoulders at first with your roommate practically hidden behind the height of the man. If you thought Seonghwa was tall last night, this man nearly puts him to shame. And coupled with that obscene height is a head of blond hair that bears brown underneath, although it must be freshly bleached because you can’t spot a hint of brown at the roots near the crown of his head. While you and Hongjoong exchange shocked glances, Seonghwa doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest as he grins at the newcomer and readjusts the collar of his coat.

“Yes, yes, Yunho, I’m coming. Well, Miss Y/N, I’ll wait with bated breath for you to receive that sign. Thank you for letting me stay the night here, and thank you, Hongjoong, for the coffee. The toast was…”

“Yeah, I get it! The toast was shit, you don’t need to say it again! I was a bit distracted by the fact that a damn vampire just appeared at the counter without warning.”

“Then next time I’ll be sure to say good morning before sitting down.”

“Oh no, I better not be present next time.”

Seonghwa opts not to provide a response this time; instead, he motions towards the door and allows his companion to lead the way out of your small apartment. You watch him go, eyes trailing over the vampire’s back with a strange churning rolling through your gut, and as much as you try to push it down, it persists with each step Seonghwa takes until he’s out of the apartment. The second the door snaps shut, the coil in your stomach snaps like a spell has been broken, and you have to shake your head to clear your mind of the odd haziness.

“I just know he has the biggest dick,” Hongjoong sighs, still staring at the door that’s just closed almost wistfully.

“What?” Your tone borders on the incredulous side, and you twist your expression into one of disgust as Hongjoong just shrugs. “Seonghwa?”

“What? Oh god no, not him. The one who came to pick him up. Why would I be interested in a guy who wants to fuck the likes of you?”

“Yeah well, you look like a fried piece of bread with the amount of bleach you’ve put through your hair.” Hongjoong doesn’t respond to your jab, nor does he even look at you as he taps his chin, evidently too deep in thought to spare you the smallest glance.

“I wonder how much it would take to get him to bottom for me.”

“Why did I agree to live with you?”

That’s all it takes for Seonghwa to walk out of your life just as quickly as he came into it, and you never even thought to revisit that club where you met him. Wooyoung never brought it up or invited you again, so you took it as a sign from the universe: you didn’t need him in your life. If destiny or whatever out there controls the universe didn’t put much effort into keeping him in your life, then you don’t think you need him that desperately. Life goes on just as before, and for a long while, it’s almost as though Seonghwa never existed as part of your life. Only the fading memories you share with Hongjoong remain, and the bite mark on your neck dissipates within two weeks so you could safely return to wearing something other than a hoodie around your roommate all the time. You think nothing more of it because it doesn’t strike you as something you need to cling to. That is until a little over a month passes.

↢  ♡  ↣

Park Seonghwa has suffered a lot in his lifetime. At the ripe old age of 1697, Seonghwa can very safely say that he has suffered quite a bit across all those years. And he has also made several mistakes along the way, including but not limited to biting and claiming a stranger although he hasn’t made such a mistake in at least nine hundred years. The pain never lasted long then because he had someone to bail him out of it at the time; in other words, someone went to fetch the person he claimed and brought him to Seonghwa before he could feel the full effects of withdrawal since he had no life partner at the time. He knows that he’s made a mistake now, however, because there is no one to bail him out of this, and he would like to think he has changed within three hundred years to a point where he realizes that kidnapping someone for their blood is not the answer. And out of all the members of his coven (yes, his coven, the one he raised and created himself), he knows he should be the most responsible as their mentor and elder.

So yes, Seonghwa has suffered. But never as much as he is now.

Yeosang will tear into him as soon as he figures out what’s going on, but Seonghwa at least has a bit of time to have the house to himself and suffer through withdrawal alone. It isn’t ideal in the slightest, of course; however, it is what needs to be done for the time being until Seonghwa can come up with some sort of explanation for Yeosang. He already scraped by the disapproving look Yunho sent his way at least thirty-two times in the past week alone even though it’s been around a month since Seonghwa’s little escapade with you, but thankfully the younger vampire did not utter a word past that, merely saying that he would save the lectures for Yeosang.

Seonghwa isn’t too proud to admit that he should have known better. He cannot blame it on any mortal inhibitions such as alcohol or lust — truly it was a lapse in judgment and nothing more than that.

“Master?”

Seonghwa jerks his head to find the presence who has interrupted his peace and quiet. He finds it to be Jongho, the young servant boy within his and Yeosang’s care, hand pressed to the door frame and shrouded by the yellow light filtering in from the hallway.

“Ah, Jongho. Is it evening already?” Seonghwa hums, glancing towards the drapes over the left windows.

“Have you slept at all, sir?” Jongho inquires as he steps further into the room. Seonghwa can only heave a deep sigh but says nothing else, which is an answer enough for Jongho’s question. The dark-haired man tugs the drapes back to expose the dark scenery outside the house. A bit of pale moonlight filters through and touches the floorboards.

“We've been together how long and you still can't lose the habit of calling me that?” Seonghwa jokes through his teeth.

“Give it a few hundred more years, sir. I'm sure I'll grow out of it by then.”

“Ah well, we have eternity. I suppose I can wait a bit longer. And no, I haven’t slept a wink.” Seonghwa pushes back on his heels to stand up, but he underestimates the weakness in his muscles at this stage of the withdrawal. It’s a quick fall since he’s barely up, and Jongho is quick to rush over to grab him by the arm, using those blindingly fast reflexes to catch Seonghwa just before his head hits the floor.

“This sickness can’t wait that long though,” Jongho remarks. Seonghwa struggles to ignore the warning in his tone, knowing very well that he is already bordering the precipice of a worse stage of the withdrawal in the next few days.

“I’ll be fine,” Seonghwa grits out, passing a weak glare in Jongho’s direction as the younger man tries to help him up.

“You have been telling me for three hundred years that withdrawal as a result of not having your marked one’s blood is the most dangerous thing for any vampire. No matter their age or experience.”

“Yes, but I always – ah, h-hold on, I – I need a moment,” Seonghwa pants as a sharp pain blossoms in his chest. The burn spreads to his shoulders in the blink of an eye, then all of a sudden, it’s down to his fingertips and toes. The sensation is so overwhelming that he nearly falls over once more, only kept up by the firm hand Jongho has placed on the nape of his back. The searing retreats after a few moments and pulls back into his chest. “If… Drinking the blood of your life partner — that takes away the side effects, so once Yeosang gets back from his trip—”

“Hyung…” Jongho’s tone holds too much sadness, and despite always being cold, Seonghwa finds himself hating the chill in his bones.

“I just need a bit of his blood. It’s alright.”

“You aren’t life partners anymore, hyung. We both know that natural physiology doesn’t make exceptions for these sorts of things. Besides… wouldn’t this be affecting your Marked as well?” Jongho at least remembers to ask the important questions in Seonghwa’s hazy state of delirium. The waves of pain return just as quickly as they left, and Seonghwa nearly doubles over from the strength of it.

“Yes, she’ll – she’ll be struggling by now. I have no way of contacting her so it’s out of my hands.”

“Don’t speak too soon.”

Seonghwa doesn’t need to look up to see who just stepped into the room, and neither does Jongho, but the younger of the two whips around to face the doorway nonetheless.

“Master, you’re home early.”

“Yes, all on account of a certain someone making more tragic mistakes and messes that I’m left to clean up.” Yeosang clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Seonghwa has lived several hundred more years than the shorter vampire, he’s seen more bloodshed and tragedy than Yeosang could dream of, he is the elder of the coven and Yeosang’s maker — all useless and meaningless facts in the long run because Yeosang has a nasty and peculiar habit of making Seonghwa feel small. Age truly is but a number when it comes to Yeosang because everything about him makes Seonghwa feel young and inexperienced.

“Yunho gave me all the important details. Also mentioned that he picked you up at an apartment in the city a little over a month ago. It’s safe to assume that’s where your Marked is?” Yeosang poses it as a question, but he gives Seonghwa no time to reply before he’s speaking again, that clear and sharp tone grating across Seonghwa’s ears in the worst way. “He and San departed not long ago to fetch… whoever your Marked is. They’ll be back shortly, and once again I will have fixed your mess. As usual.”

“Just give me your blood and call it a day,” Seonghwa spits out with a tad too much venom to his tone.

“You hardly have the strength to make it through another bonding process, and as I recall, we agreed to never do that again after we severed it last time.” The older of the two can’t resist the urge to huff out a laugh, and he’s certain that it’s because of the fog riddling his mind.

“Such a prude, Yeosang. You grow more cynical every year.”

Yeosang exhales through his nose. Out the corner of his eye, Seonghwa can see him bring his arms up to fold over his chest. There’s the faintest hint of affection lingering behind the disappointment in his gaze though, so Seonghwa knows that the bitter facade is merely that – a facade.

“Jongho, help him up and bring him to the dining hall. Yunho and San will meet you there when they’re back, and Mingi will join you once he’s finished unloading the new shipments of wine. I’ll be in the study if you need me. Try to make sure he doesn’t make any more rash decisions in such a short amount of time.”

“I’ll do my best, hyung.”

Yeosang offers a single nod in response before turning to leave the room, and Seonghwa blinks at the back of his dark head of hair until he’s completely disappeared.

“You two never change,” Jongho mutters as he helps Seonghwa to his feet. “I’d almost risk saying that you’re made for each other, life partners or not.” Seonghwa wishes he had the energy and strength to hit Jongho for the comment, but the younger gets away with it for now, only receiving a half-hearted glare for his words. And when Jongho grins softly at him, Seonghwa feels the slightest ounce of relief on his shoulders. Despite Yunho’s glares, Jongho’s lectures, and Yeosang’s whining, Seonghwa can rest in the fact that they care for him endlessly. That and the fact that Yunho and San will hopefully be bringing you as quickly as possible to rid him of the unending pain in his chest.

↢  ♡  ↣

a/n: okay this is somewhat a ~filler~ chapter before we really start picking up on plot points and such bUT this series will have shifting povs! and there will be 4-6 perspectives i’ll be writing from (reader, seonghwa, yeosang, hongjoong, maybe yunho as well, maybe wooyoung it depends) and this wont be a super duper long series? i’m thinking 15-20 parts or less? i am not sure yet!! we shall see! anywho i hope this is good and you guys enjoy it!

taglist; @sarangeulhaettda @xxbluestrifexx​ @naajix​ @daisyhwa

[write-a-bad-romance]

Only If You Hurry (Comte/Leo)

Pairing: Leonardo x Comte, with hints of Vlad x Comte

Rating: T

Word Count: 1738

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort, Leo and family matters, modern AU

Ao3 Link: Here

Note: I'll be referring to Comte as "Saint-Germain" throughout this fic because I don't want to spoil his first name. Also, his views about same-sex relationships do not reflect the author's actual opinion.

Vanilla-scented smoke trailed behind Leonardo as he located the door to Saint-Germain's apartment and knocked furiously. The sound of a violin was abruptly cut and replaced by footsteps approaching the door. 

Leonardo didn't need to announce who he was. The man inside already knew.

Or maybe not. Saint-Germain still needed to look through the peephole to make sure. Leo heard the sound of unlatching as he stared at the tip of his scuffed leather shoes, a stark contrast against the grimy maroon carpet.

All the money in the world and still he refused to move someplace newer, fancier. But then, the entire building is HIS anyway. 

The door opened with a heavy creak as Saint-Germain's worried face came into view.

"I wasn't expecting a guest. At least not tonight." The blond man sighed, "But at this point, this is your house as much as it's mine, isn't it?"

Saint-Germain backed away to allow Leonardo some space. The moment he stepped into the room, he noticed an ornate decanter of wine and matching glasses on the coffee table.

"I thought you weren't expecting company," Leonardo smacked his lips. The living room was bathed in a warm golden glow, just like everything Saint-Germain.

"I had a feeling knew you'd come."

The larger man decided to let further comments die on his tongue. He marched towards the burgundy velvet armchair and sunk against the cushioning. Other men of his size would complain about how cramped it was, but Leonardo welcomed the snug comfort it offered.

He loved sitting at this very chair and let himself soak in the familiarity of his surroundings. Even more so when the master of the house was around and he would—

Leonardo batted his thoughts away as Saint-Germain probed him. "Is this about that date you mentioned a few days ago?"

"Jeez, how did you know?"

"Just a guess. To be honest, I can't tell you if you just came back from your lab or a fancy restaurant on a hotel rooftop." Saint-Germain gestured towards Leo's desultory choice of clothes. "You're not even trying anymore."

"Yeah, well. She’s a friend of my cousin, my only good cousin. How was I supposed to refuse?" 

"Family matters. I understand." Saint-Germain poured from his decanter and passed it onto the slouching man. "But you can't keep doing this if it means coming to me moaning about it."

"Grazie," Leonardo accepted his friend's offering, but not without almost dropping the glass and letting its content spill onto Saint-Germain's antique Persian rug. "And thank you for being such a good friend and taking in the burnt of my woes."

He wasn't far off from the truth. Despite his harsh words, Saint-Germain would always nod and listen with that almost-holy, serene visage. And without fail, the man would offer him little quips of advice, some soothing words here and there. Sometimes, outright spats were inevitable. But even then, it was Saint-Germain who stood his ground and made Leonardo spend the rest of the night reflecting and repenting.

The weary lecturer closed his eyes and sighed. The good, young doctor wasting all his attention on me? This can't be right.

"Was she really that...undesirable?" The occupant of Leo's thoughts picked his violin once again and pressed it against his collarbone. "How long did you, erm, last?"

"Dio. You make it sound so obscene," Leonardo scoffed. "She wasn't. It's just, well...."

Saint-Germain let out a wry chuckle and gave him a hearty smile. "I see. So it's your tastes that's currently leaning towards....men. Did I put that correctly?"

"Well, I guess you're not entirely wrong." Leonardo hoped he could blame the wine for the rosy tinge that swept across his cheeks.

"Understandable," Saint-Germain cradled the instrument on his arm, a faraway gaze to his eyes. "Once you're accustomed to the comforts of a man, it'll take you a while before you stop searching his image in other men."

Leonardo threw a pointed look at the oblivious man. That's not how it works. 

Besides, aren't you just talking about yourself?

"Really," Saint-Germain ignored his indignant gaze and sat on the loveseat across Leonardo, his own filled glass in hand. "Even if you've dropped hints here and there, wouldn't it be better if you confront your family and tell them the truth?"

"Those were major hints I've been dropping," Leonardo raised his voice. "I had another cousin calling me just to ask about some guy in my Facebook photo from five years ago."

"And?" Saint-Germain licked his wine-tinted lips. Grazioso, Leonardo wanted to say. "What did you tell him?"

"I asked him what his point was. He hung up immediately after," Leo snickered. "Guy must have been scared shitless of me sounding so angry. I never showed that side to him before."

"See?" The blond man sighed, pouring himself a second glass. "Deflecting questions is not a confirmation. Neither is silence."

Leonardo watched intently as the other man rose from his seat to get his violin. His best friend looked enticing in a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he had to admit. The ensemble would've been made perfect if Saint-Germain had on a black waistcoat—

Damn the alcohol for letting my mind run loose.

"Anyway, since you're here to drink your sorrows away," Saint-Germain lifted his violin. "Why don't I play something for you?"

Leo bit back a scoff. That's not the kind of comforting I need, but that's about the only thing I can get from this. More than this, and it’d be—

"Sure," He flashed a cheeky grin, "Are you taking requests? Wait, no classics. I don't want you to lull me to sleep."

Saint-Germain set his bow on top of his violin's strings, the instrument waiting in position. "Anything for you."

The pair laughed their worries off into the night, accompanied by Leonardo's off-key singing. It was tiring, the Italian thought. 

But relaxing, in its own superficial way.

“Anyway,” Leonardo spoke much later as he began gathering his belongings. “How’s it going with your cara mia?”

Saint-Germain seemed taken aback by the sudden question. “Oh, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

“No,” Leonardo paused, wondering if Saint-Germain noticed the awkwardness of his phrasing. Not that it mattered, going by the inanimate turn of his voice.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Ah there it was, Saint-Germain’s signature stern look that appeared whenever Leonardo managed to land a crack on his defenses. “Now, look at you, fussing over someone else’s love life over your own.”

“I get it, I get it.” Leonardo waved a hand in defeat as he made a beeline towards the exit. “Besides, it won’t do if your girlfriend notices I’m going to your apartment all the time. She might get suspicious.”

“She already has,” The smaller man gently pushed Leo’s back as he ushered him out of his abode. “Now go home and get to bed. Don’t wander off into some bar for another drink. Or guy.”

“Santo Dio! No need to keep scolding me! Save your lectures for later!” Leonardo laughed, his face completely flushed. “Thanks anyway. See you when I see you?” 

“Anytime for a dear friend.” Saint-Germain patted the padding of Leonardo’s jacket.

“Right. Ciao.”

Leonardo cursed in Italian as he slammed his fist on a nearby wall.

“Shit.” He ran a sweaty hand over his weary face. “What was I thinking? Wasting my time and whining to the very person I want."

Leonardo could never say he loved the man. He longed for him. He lost sleep over him. Crying for him might be a little too much, but still, it was the blonde hair and amber eyes that followed him to sleep and starred in his dreams. 

And every time, Leonardo would wake up panicked, alone and panting.

And desiring.

He remembered carefully warning his 'wards' Salai and Melzi, "Never go for unavailable men. Don't give in to the delusion that you're somehow going to make it work, whatever it takes."

"Withdraw while there's still time. It's not worth it." He admonished severely.

Leonardo laughed at his hypocrisy, disgust welling in the pits of his stomach. Even if his frivolity hadn't corrupted Saint-Germain, the other man had enough poison in himself to get the job done. Time and time again, he would gaze into the man's golden orbs and find nothing there. 

He would give so much of himself to others but never oblige anybody else to fulfill him. Would never allow anyone close to his heart.

Leonardo knew he couldn't handle him, Saint-Germain and his darkness. And neither could the man endure him. So why did he—

How did he fall in this deep? 

Leonardo shook his head and carried on with a forceful stride. They were fools, both of them. But Leonardo was an absolute abject for letting his heart and brain to be wholly governed by the image of a man who clearly wouldn’t look his way.

Nor anywhere else.

Saint-Germain stared dumbly at the blinding screen of his phone. There was no delivery notification under his latest message.

She was still blocking him. He could only pray the email reached her inbox and didn't end up in the spam or whatever abyss she subjected him. He couldn't afford another postponement. If he was lucky, this weekend, they'd have one last dinner, and Saint-Germain would offer to end their meetings.

Leonardo and his colleagues would praise him for being the one in control, always the dominant one. They believed Comte could pull away gracefully and call off his relationships at the drop of a hat.

Oh, if only such was the case. Saint-Germain battled day and night to gain control over his erratic feelings, hidden under lock and key beneath his impassive facade.

The constant battles made him vulnerable. Weak people had no business supporting another, not when they could barely stand on their own two feet.

And he was so close to baring it all to the very person he'd laid his eyes on. 

Leo can't keep seeing me like this. So prone and useless.

You're a strong man who deserves an even stronger man. It will never be me.

He recalled Leonardo murmuring to him over another round of wine on the balcony of some hotel a long time ago.

It should be easy, being with the one you love. 

Love isn't supposed to hurt or tire you out. If it's running your heart rugged to the ground, then what's the point?

Right?

Saint-Germain twisted the silicone casing of his phone furiously. He didn't know. How could he answer?

What was love supposed to feel like?

Joyeux anniversaire, Comte! Sorry I’m offering nothing but angst on this jolly day! :’)))

This was actually a request from anon, but I decided to make a longer piece from the prompt. The original draft had Renaissance influences thrown in, but things got hectic and I couldn’t continue my research. So I decided to go with mu usual jam: Modern AU.

Also, I think I overdid the hurt and added too much angst. I hope it’s okay.

Thank you to @ashavazesa for helping me brainstorm ideas. I’m sorry things didn’t come out like we intended to, but your suggestion (namely, Comte playing the violin for Leonardo) stuck with me and it fit nicely. Thank you!

[fortitude-sakura]

Noir [2/?]

Oh hey. They finally meet.

Rating: M

Tags: Corporate AU

AO3

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She had hoped to see the dark haired stranger again. However among all her coffee runs, she never saw him again.

A few weeks later and 2 months into her first intern rotation, her Team Leader approaches her desk.

“Hey Sakura, there’s a meeting with all the other team leads for the Hyperia 2 project. I’m supposed to take you with me.” he says, rather bluntly, as if it were a huge inconvenience to him. “As part of the intern program.”

“Sure. Is there anything I need to prepare for it?” she asks, grabbing her notebook and pen.

“Nah, you’re just there to observe or something.”

With that, he shuffles back into his office (probably to play Solitaire on his computer or look up motorcycles as Sakura had caught him doing on multiple occasions).

He didn’t even tell me when the meeting is. Sakura realised. Rolling her eyes, she finds the calendar item on the team calendar.

This afternoon? Way to give me a heads up.

She still hadn’t finished the scope work for one of the tickets she was working on and she also had a dozen tickets in her triage queue. Technically sorting through the triage was the duty of the Team Leader but she noticed that he had a propensity to ‘delegate’ those duties to her. In fact, if there was anything he could delegate, he would.

At first she was happy to accept more responsibility, but in doing so she had opened a floodgate of other delegated duties on top of those coffee runs every few hours. However she wouldn’t back down from the challenge. It would make for a compelling case for Uchiha Enterprises to keep her on as a full time employee.

She’s called to do one last coffee run before the meeting and walks with her Team Leader towards the meeting room. By the time they arrive at the meeting room, she could see all the other interns there already and she knows they were the last ones there. The Head of Talent Acquisition, Hatake Kakashi is also there, standing in the corner reading something.

She received some side eye glances from her fellow interns (however only Toshiro maintained a smug, self assured smirk on his face) and joins them quietly at the back of the room while her Team Lead took a seat at the table.

“Now that we’re all here. Let’s start.” a baritone voice says from the head of the table.

Sakura looks up from her notebook and her eyes widen with recognition.

The guy from Milk Grind!

“Before we begin - interns, this is Uchiha Sasuke, Director of Uchiha Enterprises and his executive assistant, Toshiba Keiko.” said Kakashi. Keiko gives them a quick wave without looking up from her laptop.

Sakura felt her face grow hot with the realisation that she had been checking out her boss’ boss. She thanked her lucky stars that he hadn’t spared her a glance that day, with all that ogling she was doing. That would have made for something awkward if he had called her out.

Uchiha Sasuke was so much more than the handsome stranger from Milk Grind. He was calm and collected, listening intently to all the Team Leads and making his own comments and observations. There was no pussyfooting around - his comments were sharp and could almost be considered rude with the tone of voice he was using but they were all valid points to make.

He never seemed to smile, even if the ideas presented were good, he would simply acknowledge it with a nod and a curt “Okay.”.  

After all the ideas were pitched, Director Uchiha leans back in his seat, arms folded across his broad chest, a frown maring his handsome face.

“All of these ideas are good, but they don’t solve the problem of our clients leaving us while the development of Hyperia 2 is underway.”

Tension hung thick in the air. The Team Leads were at a loss. The meeting was to propose solutions in order to prevent clients from not renewing their licence to Hyperia. They had been working on Hyperia 2, it’s successor but troubles in development meant that deadlines had to be pushed back. Hyperia was outdated by current standards and a few clients had opted not to renew their licence as there were other software solutions that were more modern. At least, that’s what Sakura had gathered from the reports she had read.

“Anyone?”

She looks over at her fellow interns, who were all staring at each other blankly.

Sakura did have an idea but it was more like the application of theory they fed you in university than an actual workable solution. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t hurt right? It made sense in theory.

“Um,” she says, her voice catching in her dry throat. “User involvement.”

No one moves.

Director Uchiha raises an eyebrow.

Oh god oh god oh god. That’s it. I’m totally done. I’m going to get the ‘know your place’ lecture. I’m toast  Burnt toast.

“Go on.” he says quietly, inviting her to explain further.

“Well in the interim we could dedicate a team to provide ongoing support for our users as well as develop some new features for Hyperia.”

“You mean Hyperia 2?” asks one Team Lead.

“No. For the original Hyperia. We conduct user tests to gauge what our users like and dislike about Hyperia and what features they’d think would be valuable. We can conduct user acceptance testing and those new features can then be incorporated into Hyperia 2 which might make the transition easier.” she says slowly. “We buy ourselves time and also appeal to our users directly. They get perceived value because we’re listening to what they want which gives them an incentive to stay with us. We could also offer them opportunities to beta test Hyperia 2 because they would have the best idea of how a user wants to utilise the software.”

“You sound like you’re reciting a textbook.” Director Uchiha says.

The interns and Team Leads at the table snicker. She felt her face go red and her eyes burn.

“But.”

Silence fell over the room in an instant. Even Keiko stopped typing (or from what Sakura could tell from the reflection of the window she’s sitting in front of, browsing for shoes).

“It was a good idea.”

She looks up to see him smirk. Her heart feels like it wants to leap out of her chest with pride.

“What’s your name?”

“Haruno Sakura.”

“Who’s your Team Lead?”

“That’d be me.” her Team Lead says gruffly.

The Director narrows his eyes and if she isn’t mistaken, there’s a hint of contempt. “Keiko, did you write that down?”

“Huh? That part with user acceptance testing and Hyperia? Yeah.” she says. Keiko had gotten so bored during the meeting that she was slouching in her chair.

Director Uchiha shoots her a look before giving a subtle eye roll. “Alright, that should be it for now.”

They all file out of the room, separating as they head back to their own offices. Her Team Lead is really taking his own sweet time getting his papers in order. She decides to wait around for him outside the meeting room - it was the polite thing to do, right?

When he finally comes out of the meeting room, his hand finds her elbow.

“Come here.” her Team Lead growls at her as his grip tightens rather painfully. Sakura is marched over around the corner into the lobby. .

“I know what you’re trying to do you, you conniving little bitch.” he snaps.

“What?” Sakura asks, feeling both perplexed and angry by the sudden insult.

“You should have shared that  little idea of yours with me before the meeting. What did you expect to achieve by humiliating me?”

“Nothing! It was just something I thought of in the moment. I didn’t even know what the meeting was about until it started.” Sakura says, trying to keep her voice as even as she possibly can. It’s hard considering her Team Lead’s grip on her elbow is painfully hard now. She tries pulling away but it only makes him hold on tighter.

“Don’t forget, I’m the one who writes your intern review.” he snarls, finally letting go. “Now go get me some coffee.”

“Keiko, go write up the minutes of that meeting and find out which organizations that use Hyperia would be best for user testing.” Sasuke says as the Team Leads and interns head out of the meeting room. Keiko nods and leaves.

“Hmm, and to think we almost didn’t hire her.” Kakashi muses quietly.

“That intern?” Sasuke asks, immediately interested. “With the pink hair?”

She had been quite an interesting intern indeed. Not once in a meeting did an intern ever speak up - they were all either too scared to contribute or their heads were filled with cotton candy and not much else. He also doesn’t remember any other intern with such shockingly pink hair either. The dress code was business professional and having hair that colour was certainly not part of the dress code.

“Yes, and before you ask, yes apparently her hair is naturally pink. She even sent us baby pictures to prove it.” Kakashi says chuckling as they turned the corner towards the elevator lobby. “They’re quite adorable.”

Suddenly, Sasuke’s arm flies out and hits him in the chest.

Sasuke hears hushed, harsh whispers from the elevator lobby. It’s undeniably the intern and her useless Team Lead.

“You should have shared that  little idea of yours with me before the meeting. What did you expect to achieve my humiliating me?”

“Nothing! It was just something I thought of in the moment. I didn’t even know what the meeting was about until it started.”

“Don’t forget, I’m the one who writes your intern review. Now go get me some coffee.”

They listen for the tell tale elevator ‘Ding!’, the shuffle of feet and the closing of the elevator door.

“Get me a file on her.”

“Sure, I can get Takaya to email you her personnel file.”

“No, I want you to compile a dossier.”

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. Never once in his time at Uchiha Enterprises has Sasuke ever asked him to compile a dossier. Sure, he had once worked as a private investigator (searching for cheating spouses and the like) and it’s what compelled Uchiha Itachi to hire him (aside from his friendship with Namikaze Minato who was familiar with the Uchihas), however Sasuke had never once asked him to utilize this set of skills.

A few days later, Kakashi puts a manila folder on his desk.

“There’s not a lot to her.” Kakashi says, pulling out a book - Icha Icha Paradise.

“Seriously?” Sasuke gives him a withering look. Kakashi was fairly shameless about his love affair with the Icha Icha erotic novel series and would openly read everywhere - in restaurants, in meetings, right in front of his employer. According to Kakashi, Jiraiya is a genius writer.

“I want to finish the good part before I have to check up on Ponyu.” Kakashi shrugs.

Sasuke wants to point out that he had read that particular Icha Icha novel already (Kakashi also likes to re-read). Annoyingly enough as well, Kakashi also made a special agreement with Itachi that he could take off early to care for his rescue dogs and work from home instead. Kakashi has been taking more time off than usual because his newest rescue, a goofy dalmatian called Ponzu, was a bit of a handful.

His intercom buzzes and he hears Keiko clear her throat.

“Uzumaki Naruto wants to know if you’re still on for lunch.”

“Why on earth did you hire Keiko?” Sasuke snaps at Kakashi.

“A lesson in patience, my dear Sasuke.” Kakashi’s eyes twinkle in amusement and Sasuke knows that he’s smiling underneath that facemask he likes to wear so much.

Sasuke glances at his watch -  “Yeah, tell the dobe I’ll be at the usual place at 12:30pm.”

Foolishly, he brings the file out to lunch with him with the intention of looking through it after.

He sees his best friend outside the ramen bar, his loosed orange tie standing out.

“Oi, teme!” Naruto calls out as he spots him on the street. “Whatcha got there?”

Sasuke decides to sidestep the topic - not that he’s trying to hide anything from Naruto but he’d rather not have to endure Naruto’s idiotic looks.

It’s not a very kind thing to say about your best friend but it’s because Naruto is his best friend that he feels at liberty to think these things. (Although you’d never hear Sasuke admit that without Naruto, his life would be rather dull and sometimes the dobe’s idiot tendencies can be endearing).

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

Their usual haunt is a ramen bar - Ichiraku’s. It’s a hidden gem of a place in one of the side alleys of the city. There’s barely any room to swing a cat but it serves the best ramen and Naruto is one of Ichiraku’s best customers. They even named a menu item after him - tonkotsu ramen with all the toppings and an extra serving of meat, otherwise known as the Naruto special.

“So, are you going home for Itachi’s birthday?” Naruto asks between large slurps.

“Yeah, I’d never hear the end of it from Izumi or Shisui if I didn’t.” he replies, taking another big mouthful of ramen. While he didn’t share the same kind of intense affection for ramen that Naruto does, he could certainly appreciate how good Ichiraku makes it.

“Oooooh. Who’s this? She’s kinda cute.” Naruto said. Sasuke had been so busy savouring his lunch that he hadn’t noticed Naruto reach for the manila folder he brought out.

“What the fuck? Hey!” Sasuke snatches the folder out of Naruto’s hands. “Need I remind you that you’re engaged?”

Naruto laughs. “Oh yeah I forgot to ask you but you’ll be my best man at the wedding right? I just assumed but Hina-chan told me to make sure.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes at Naruto. “I’d be offended if I wasn’t, usuratonkachi.”  

“Alright good.”

He heads to Milk Grind before returning to the office. He comes down when he can because of Keiko’s inability to remember is damn coffee order (which is weird considering Keiko wasn’t stupid by any means. He suspects she does it on purpose just to piss him off).

He finds an armchair in the corner and finally goes through the dossier Kakashi had compiled for him.

There are some baby pictures - indeed proving that Haruno Sakura was born with this abnormal strawberry milk coloured hair. He learns that she had graduated from Konoha University and attended with a scholarship. Clever girl. The only other employment she had before the internship was at Lucky Sevens - a small diner near the university. Independent girl. She lived in an apartment in a rather shady area of Konoha with a roommate - Tenten Wu. Most likely due to the lack of finances and how cheap the rent is. Aside from the academic transcripts, there really wasn’t a whole lot more to Haruno Sakura.

There were also some notes from when Sakura was being interviewed for the internship. She had answered the questions reasonably well and she was a well qualified candidate. Scribbled at the bottom on the notes there was the word ‘Hair?!’.

“Hey Sakura! What is this, your third run today?”

His ears perk up at the sound of her name being mentioned. Sure enough, at the counter was the pink-haired intern.

“Yeah, I have to go drop off his dry cleaning too.” she complains, “I still haven’t finished all the work he gave me yet either.”

“Man, he’s running you like a slave.”

“Tell me about it. I just hope whoever I have to work under next is better. Anyway, see you later!”

He frowns. Why the hell are interns running around like personal assistants?

He pulls out his phone and sends a text to Kakashi.

I want you find Keiko another position.

Where?

Anywhere. Wherever she wants. Put Haruno Sakura on as my EA when the interns change teams.

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