#wild will eventually see the error of his ways

[skyloftian-nutcase]

An Eventful Night (LU in Healthcare)

More Plot :D

Legend is an unwilling hero, Hyrule nearly has a breakdown when dispatch doesn't get the info right, and Twilight make s a new friend and begins Project Make Wild Like Puppers.

Just a fair warning, Hyrule's section is a little intense but not graphic and it has a good ending.

(AO3 link)

Legend winced as his lower back ached. If he stepped the wrong way, if he reached the wrong way, it would throb annoyingly. He hadn’t thought he’d done anything particularly strenuous at work last night, but he supposed it was all just catching up to him.

Grabbing a heating pad, he headed for the den where he could lay on the floor where the fuzzy carpet was. Enough cushioning to not make it worse, enough firmness to help his back alongside the heat.

Walking into the den, he froze and frowned. “You’re in my spot.”

“But this is the best spot on the floor!”

“Rav, that’s my spot.”

“You wouldn’t kick me out, would you, Mr. Hero? This area is so comfortable—”

Legend groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine, just scoot over a little.”

Ravio chirped happily, scooching as minimally as possible and barely leaving any room on the rug for Legend. Sighing heavily, the travel nurse slowly lowered himself down and situated the heating pad under his lower back. The pair laid down beside each other in comfortable silence before Ravio broke it.

"Have you ever thought about how insignificant we are in comparison to the rest of the world?”

“Rav, for heaven’s sake, just let me—”

Legend felt his phone vibrate and he bit back another grumble. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and saw that it was from Warriors. That was enough to make him plop it down on his stomach without reading it. He was already sore and growing steadily more annoyed, he didn’t need whatever sassy remark that irritating soldier could come up with adding to it.

“Well, what I was going to say is, we—you know, we’re so, so tiny in comparison to everything else happening in the world,” Ravio continued thoughtfully, gesturing towards the ceiling with a hand.

“We don’t matter, I get it,” Legend snapped.

Ravio glanced at him, looking concerned. “I wasn’t going to say that. What I was going to say was that despite how small we are, we still make a difference. You do every day, you know.”

Legend side eyed his roommate. “What in the world has gotten into you? Have you been off for a few days?”

Ravio nodded, smiling.

Legend rolled his eyes. “Of course you have. You get way too philosophical when you have time off.”

“Nothing wrong with contemplating things!”

“I’m not a hero, Rav.”

“Of course you are!! You, all the nurses and techs and doctors and physical therapists and respiratory therapists and everyone, you’re all heroes!”

“Is that why you sell my stuff?”

“One does have to make a living—”

“You have a job, Ravio.”

“B-but what if it isn’t enough, you know I need comforts and the world can be so unpredictable and scary—”

Legend’s phone buzzed again. Sighing even more heavily than last time, Legend snatched the blasted object to put it on do not disturb when his eyes caught some of the words in the texts.

—help and I don’t know what—

Furrowing his brow, the travel nurse unlocked his phone to read the messages fully.

hey need a a favor wellaact ually actually maybe more of yeah I need a favor look I might be a liytle tipsyandd cant drive ok hang on swearica n type ha stnadby Ok. Typing slow. Need a drive. Ride Whatever I can’t drive myself an I need help and I don’t know what else to do Don’t want Wind to see me like this pls

Legend stared at the mess of texts. He… what? Why was Warriors drunk texting him of all people? He typed, Can’t you call Time? Or Sky?

Time would fuss Sky would worry Pls Ledge?

Legend frowned. You think I won’t fuss?

You alwayssfuss

His ire flared. I do not!!

LEDGE RIDE PLS

This night couldn’t get any worse. UGH FINE YOU MORON JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE

As Warriors started typing, Legend sat up, hissing as his back protested. Ravio looked at him confusedly. “Where are you going?”

“I have to pick up an idiot,” he answered, heading for the front door where the jackets and shoes were. He could just go in his pajamas, it wasn’t like he was getting out of the car, anyway. When Warriors finally replied, he looked up the address…

…And grew steadily more confused. The bar was in the Seer District, where Warriors lived. Why couldn’t he just call a taxi, or maybe even walk?

Shaking his head, Legend hopped in the car and drove to the location. He texted Warriors and saw the door to the bar open.

His friend stumbled a little as he stepped out, but he steadied himself. Smiling at the car, he nearly fell into the door, making Legend jump, before he opened it and laughed. “Hey, Ledge!”

Legend tossed a few items into the back so the passenger seat was clear. “Get in, idiot.”

Warriors climbed in with as much grace as a newly born foal, hitting his head while doing so. It was honestly so sad it almost made Legend feel bad for him.

Almost.

“Thanks, man,” Wars slurred, slouching in the seat.

Legend waited a moment and then said, “Close the door.”

Warriors managed to latch his fingers around the handle by the third try and slammed it shut.

“Buckle up.”

The nurse spent another minute fumbling with the seat belt before Legend finally snatched it out of his hands and locked it in place.

“Now, where are we going? What’s your address?”

Warriors stared off into space, body language weary all of a sudden. “Anywhere.”

Legend grew even more bewildered. “What?”

“Anywhere,” Warriors repeated. “I don’t give a shit. Nowhere. The woods. A shelter. Anywhere.”

“Wars, your address—”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

Legend was about to argue, growing agitated, when Warriors rolled his head to the side to look at him. His drunken cheer from earlier was gone, and his exhaustion was more evident than ever. His eyes, usually sharp and analytical, were dark and dull.

“Ledge, I don’ wanna go home,” he said.

“What about Wind?” Legend asked hesitantly.

“I told’im I was working.”

Legend’s chest tightened. Warriors wouldn’t lie to Wind just to go out drinking. Something was genuinely wrong.

Sighing, he made a decision and put the car in drive, wordlessly getting back on the road as his mind went through different scenarios over what was happening. Warriors slouched more in the seat, staring ahead. When they finally slipped into a parking space, his friend looked around, disoriented. “Where…?”

“We’re at my place,” Legend answered. “Come on.”

Legend exited the car without any more explanation, taking a deep, steadying breath and heading for the door that led to the stairwell. He paused, reconsidered, and headed for the elevator instead just as Warriors stumbled out of the car. The travel nurse grabbed his hand and guided him into the elevator. Both were silent until Warriors gasped just as they reached Legend’s floor.

“You’re a real one,” Warriors giggled, leaning heavily on Legend and ruffling his hair. “Thanks.”

Legend snarled, shoving him off and then yelping and grabbing Warriors as he almost fell in the opposite direction. “Just shut up and walk, good grief.”

The pair reached Legend’s apartment, and he promptly dragged Warriors to the den. He gave Ravio a quick gruff, “Move,” and stomped across the room as his roommate squeaked and scurried out of the way. Warriors stumbled to the sofa and promptly collapsed onto it.

Sighing heavily, Legend went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a trash can. When he returned to the sofa Warriors was staring at the ceiling, his brow crinkled together.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as the travel nurse approached him.

Legend paused a moment, exasperation temporarily forgotten, and then slowly put the items down on the table beside the couch. “Just go to sleep, Wars. And… and if you want to talk about what caused this… you know, when you’re sober…”

Warriors squeezed his eyes closed and turned away.

“…Or not,” Legend muttered, unsure what else to say. This had never been his strong suit. “Well, either way. Get some sleep.”

Grabbing a blanket, Legend tossed it over Warriors, making sure his friend was warm, and then went to his bedroom, shrugging when Ravio threw him a curious glance.

XXX

Hyrule bit his lip to hold back his laughter as he watched an entertaining video on his phone. His legs swung out carelessly in front of him, blowing off what little nervous energy he had reserved in him, a byproduct of being on call waiting for dispatch to send them to an emergency. On either side of him, seated in chairs and working on the computers provided for reports, were Dawn and Aurora, while Mo relaxed in a chair by the doorway. Scooting a little farther onto the table he was sitting on, he finally let out a laugh as he got a text from Mo with an edited picture of Aurora making an exasperated face.

Before he could have a chance to explain his outburst to the girls, the tones dropped and dispatch blared overhead: “Rescue 18, Medic 1896 respond to 89 Kawa Circle for difficulty breathing.”

Hyrule playfully shoved Mo as they headed towards the ambulance. “You can’t just send me stuff like that when Aurora’s right there, you jerk.”

Mo laughed as he hopped into the driver’s seat. “It was worth it for the look on your face.”

Rolling his eyes, the paramedic grabbed the mic and keyed up. “ECC, Medic 1896 responding.”

“Medic 1896, you’re responding at 2329 for a 21-year-old male patient with a trach who is ventilator dependent – family stated they were swapping out trachs and were unable to place the new one and are now bagging the patient.”

Hyrule’s cheer immediately drained out of him as Mo muttered a curse under his breath. Well… that escalated quickly. He started going through different scenarios and wondering how in the world he was even supposed to handle this. A patient with a trach was a patient with a surgical airway, which already put them far out of his scope of practice. He knew how to suction such an airway, he knew how to make those airways, but that was about all he could do. Placing a new trach into the airway? That was not in his training.

But it was in the family’s training. If he could just guide them to put a new trach in then that should resolve the issue. The reason this patient was having difficulty breathing was because he lost his connection to the ventilator.

As Hyrule went through all of this in his mind, Mo managed to pull up to the house, catching the medic off guard. He supposed it hadn’t been too far from the station. The fire department had already arrived and were inside; neither Hyrule nor Mo had heard a peep from them after their initial radio traffic indicating they’d gotten there.

“Well, fire isn’t saying anything drastic so it can’t be that bad,” Mo remarked as the pair hopped out of the ambulance, not bothering to take in equipment since the fire department would have already done so.

Hyrule hummed in acknowledgement, pushing the front door open and immediately his eyes fell on a group of firefighters huddled around each other on the ground. Hyrule squinted, looking to see what they were doing, wondering why they were in a circle on the floor when there was clearly no young man lying in their midst.

And then he saw it.

They were huddled around a baby.

Hyrule’s heart and mind stopped together, the world freezing around him, and his veins filled with ice.

Dispatch had gotten the age wrong. This wasn’t a twenty-one-year-old.

It was a twenty-one-month-old baby.

Hyrule found himself floundering, struggling to reorient his mind, having expected something completely different and not prepared for this scenario. He leaned over the firefighters and tried to ask what was going on, but it was apparent they were mentally scrambling as much as he was, and they told him nothing. He heard them speaking to each other about the baby’s heart rate lowering, which was an extremely ominous sign that the baby was about to going into cardiac arrest.

Oh, fuck. We’re about to code a baby.

Hyrule turned and immediately headed for the ambulance to grab more supplies, his mind whirling as he tried to run the protocol of pediatric cardiac arrest, as he tried to accept the fact that this child was about to die because he couldn’t breathe.

By the time the medic got back to the house, however, one of the firefighters met him outside. “The parents got the trach back in and they’re putting him back on the ventilator.”

Immediate relief slammed into Hyrule. That was the treatment the baby needed, the one thing he couldn’t provide. He threw up a quick thank you to the sky and saw Mo coming outside carrying the baby while another firefighter carried the portable ventilator just beside him. Hyrule did a quick assessment, much happier with how the baby looked – the little one was perking up quickly, recovering from his hypoxia. The parents followed next, and Hyrule talked to them briefly to get a sense of what had happened while the others settled the infant into a pediatric harness on the stretcher.

Once the baby was secure, Hyrule and Mo got vital signs and were both satisfied with what they saw. Hyrule gave a thumbs up to his partner and everyone else except for the baby, Hyrule, and the father stepped out as they headed to the hospital.

The trip was blessedly uneventful, with Hyrule trying to reassure the panic stricken father and keeping a close eye on the baby. Once they reached the hospital and transferred care, however, Hyrule and Mo both entered the EMS room and waited for the door to close before immediately yelling at the same time.

“What the fuck!” Hyrule threw his hands on the air. “Dispatch said twenty-one-year-old—”

“That was not what I was expecting to walk into—”

“And fire was saying fucking nothing—”

“Oh my gosh that was a disaster—”

“Why were they even doing a trach swap at freaking midnight—”

“Why the hell couldn’t dispatch get the age right—”

The pair panted for air, staring at each other, and then sighed heavily, leaning against the wall.

“Drinks after the shift?” Mo asked.

“Drinks after the shift,” Hyrule agreed.

XXX

Twilight squirmed once more, twisting around in the bed to no avail. He had a day shift tomorrow but he’d only just gotten off night shifts with one day break in between to reset his sleep cycle and it wasn’t working. It was almost midnight; he’d have to wake up in five hours as it was, he had to get some sleep.

Good grief he missed EMS. At least with the squad he could self-schedule and just stick to a consistent routine.

The thought process cut itself off hastily as his mind wandered to other aspects of his former career and he twisted sharply in the bed once more. Wild was fast asleep in the bed across from him, snoring softly.

At least someone was going to be well rested before work.

A noise caught Twilight’s attention, making him stiffen. It sounded like someone was sifting through trash outside the room. Their motel wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town, and Twilight immediately stiffened, slowly reaching for the pocketknife on the nightstand. As the noise continued, he crept out of bed, peering between the blinds, unsure what he was going to see.

There was no silhouette of a person, and Twilight squinted, glancing downward, and then he gasped.

Hastening to the door, he opened it gently so as not to startle the source of the noise. As he poked his head out ever-so-slightly, the black puppy froze in place, ears peeling back as it grew anxious.

“Hi baby,” he said softly, crouching down so he was at eye level with the little ball of fluff. “Where’s your home?”

The puppy watched him uneasily, its tail swishing slightly in a hesitant greeting. It stumbled towards him with uncoordinated steps, sniffing with its wet little nose. Once it got close enough it started sniffing Twilight’s face and neck, making him giggle. His response excited the puppy, who only sniffed him more and started to lick his face as he outright laughed and fell onto the ground, overwhelmed with puppy kisses.

“Twi, what in the world…?” Wild blearily asked from his bed before growing silent.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you some food,” Twilight said as he scooped up the little puppy, who grew still in his hold. Closing the door and locking it once more, he turned to see Wild staring at him in bewilderment.

“You brought it inside?” Wild asked.

“Of course I brought him inside, he’s starving,” Twilight insisted. “Aren’t you, buddy?”

Wild sighed, laying back down and closing his eyes. “Just don’t put him on my bed, I don’t want him making a mess on me.”

Twilight nuzzled the puppy with his cheek. “That means I get all the puppy kisses to myself.”

“And the fleas, probably.”

Twilight paused in mid chuckle, his stomach squirming a little. Ah. Yes. There was that. Then he shook his head. “It’s okay. We’ll get him all cleaned up.” “We?”

Twilight rolled his eyes. “All right, all right, I’ll get him all cleaned up. Can’t sleep anyway. What are we gonna call you, little guy?”

Wild groaned. “We’re not actually keeping him, are we?”

“Of course we are! Where else would he go?”

“A shelter?”

“He’s a baby!”

“He’s a feral puppy. Might as well be a wolf, you don’t just adopt those—”

Twilight gasped in delight. “Wolfie! That’s great, thanks Wild.”

Wild’s mouth became a thin line and then he turned the other way with a defeated sigh. “You’re welcome. Good night.”

[kwanisms]

Run Rabbit, Run — k.seungmin

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ vampire!Seungmin × f!Reader wc: 20.5k (sorry. it happened again lmao) summary: Seungmin is a vampire and has lived a very long life and seen many ages pass him by. He’s grown weary of immortality until he meets someone one random night who really puts things into perspective for him. genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural and vampiric themes, gothic undertones, predator/prey dynamics, s2l; non idol au, vampire au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Seungmin is a vampire so drinking blood and feeding from humans is a given, alcohol consumption (Y/N has a couple drinks), Seungmin is still a predatory creature so he has some… thoughts about that, minor character death, attempted SA (but nothing happens), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @lvelicky , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip , @wh0r3mir4 Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this one was so much fun. Seungmin is such a wild card when it comes to writing. He fits innocent types but he also fits these savage/predatory roles really well! Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please reblog or comment your favorite part! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (he’s a vampire. This ain’t twilight. But you aren’t a vampire, so use protection), blood play, orgasm control, predator/prey play, dacryphilia, use of pet names (little rabbit, sweetheart, doe, pet, etc), Seungmin is kinda mean but he also leans a little heavy into the predator role but jokes on him cause Y/N is into it so who’s the real winner here? If I missed anything just let me know.

dialogue prompt: ❛ Why are you shaking? You’re not scared of me are you? ❜

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Eternity. Humans use the word so freely. 

I promise to love you for eternity. I want to live for eternity. Death is eternal.

Seungmin knew that the last one was correct. Death is eternal and it will last forever. But love? Eternal love didn’t exist. Not in the literal definition of eternal. Mortals die and then that is eternal. The love they experienced before their demise is fleeting and perishes with them.

The only thing that was eternal other than death was the waking hell Seungmin had endured for centuries; life eternal. It was supposed to be a gift. He was told it was a gift and initially, he believed it. Getting to stay young and live a long life. All he wanted was to live for a long time.

But as the ones around him withered and died, Seungmin came to see this “gift” as a curse. Life eternal was part of a bigger scam. Creating an army of vampires to take over the world. Or at least that’s what he thought. He’d been changed upon his request and then left alone. No guidance, no mentor, nothing to help him navigate this new life he’d been unceremoniously dropped into.

Seungmin had to learn as he went, adapting and changing at a much quicker rate. He made mistakes along the way but eventually he found a path and stuck to it. It wasn’t until those around him started dying of old age, people he’d grown up with, that he started to see the error he’d made.

Each generation that passed, Seungmin grew more and more dissatisfied with life as an immortal. He stopped forming relationships and bonds with people because he’d lived this story so many times, he knew how it ended. It was better to not feel. Better to not get attached.

He moved from continent to continent, city to city. Perhaps that was the only good thing about living for so long. Being able to see more in his infinite lifetime than a mortal could see in their limited years. Decades turned into centuries and Seungmin had been to more cities and countries than he could count. He’d seen more and done more than anyone could ever hope to see or do.

So why was he still so [word]? He’d been given the gift of immortality, he’d been to so many places and seen so much and yet… none of it filled the void in his soul. None of it left him feeling fulfilled or satisfied with life. He still held so much disdain for his existence.

Even as he stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the vast forest below. It was a great fall, one that would surely kill a man before he even hit the ground but Seungmin was no mere man. Would a fall from this distance even leave a mark on him? Would his body break and finally free him from this cursed life? He had no way of knowing. It wasn’t exactly like he’d been given a manual on this.

How to Commit Suicide as a Vampire for Dummies wasn’t a title that would ever grace the shelves of Barnes & Noble. He’d have to just try. It was trial and error at this point. He’d tried so many different things. Poison didn’t even register. Knives and swords did nothing, not even a wooden stake through the heart had come close to killing him. Bullets did nothing either and they were annoying to remove.

He’d tried drowning himself in the ocean only to discover he didn’t need to breathe. He’d tried starvation only for his instincts to kick in at the last minute and force him to feed on whatever was nearby. He’d tried jumping from other heights but none this high.

If this didn’t work, he felt the only thing that might kill him was extreme pressures.

Seungmin was so absorbed in his own thoughts of death that he didn’t realize he was no longer alone.

You stared at the man, noticing how close he was to the edge of the clearing. A fall from this height would surely kill him. You glanced up at his face and could help but stare. You’d never seen such… sadness before.

He looked as if he was deep in thought. You glanced out over the forest below and then back at the man. ‘Surely he isn’t thinking about jumping,’ you sincerely hoped silently.

A simple hike in the mountains was what you had expected when you came to this national park. What you hadn’t expected was to find a man standing on the edge, possibly about to end his life. You glanced around the clearing to find it was just the two of you.

Looking back at the man, you were reminded of your own struggles with depression, thoughts of suicide, almost attempts but in the end, it got better and so did you. You wondered if it would make a difference in his life whether you stopped him now. Even if just to lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, keeping your eyes fixated on the man. You stopped a few paces behind him but kept a good few feet between you. Turning your gaze from his profile, you looked over the trees below.

“What a view,” you said softly. Your voice must have startled him because his head snapped to look at you, alarm etched on his face. You kept your gaze over the trees, looking around and taking in the splendor of it all. The man kept his gaze focused on you. “It’s so beautiful,” you continued, still not looking at him.

Out of your periphery, you could see him turn his head back to look out over the forest. “It’s the same as all the others,” he said softly. “All the others?” you asked, finally turning your head to look at him. You allowed yourself to actually look at him this time, focusing on the details you couldn’t see before.

His smooth, flawless complexion, the reddish brown color of his hair blowing in the gentle breeze. He wore a simple white button down under a black blazer and black slacks. He looked like he just came from an office job. Not dressed for a hike in the mountains.

He had no supplies, no wilderness gear, no backpack or sleeping bag.

It hit you then and made your heart rate speed up as you hoped you were wrong.

‘He’s come here to die.’

You looked around, trying to think of anything you could to distract him.

“Have you been to a lot of forests then?” you blurted out. He turned his head to look at you, brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice a little louder this time. He looked and sounded genuinely confused by your question.

“You said it’s the same as all the others. So you must have been to a lot of forests to make that statement,” you replied. ‘Yes, this is good, Y/N. Keep him talking. Keep him distracted.’

“Do you travel a lot?”

The man stared at you, a look of perplexion on his face. Almost as if he was wondering why you were even talking to him in the first place. “I’ve heard the forests in the Carpathian Mountains are gorgeous this time of year,” you continued, looking away from him. “The changing of leaves, the cool autumn air, the influx of wildlife preparing for winter hibernation,” you said with a smile.

“I’ll bet it’s beautiful--”

“It is,” he said, cutting you off. You turned to look at him. His eyes were still on you. “A little colder than you’re probably imagining though,” he added. “Transylvania is also beautiful this time of year,” he continued. You took a cautious half step forward. “Have you been to Romania?” you asked.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter, amusement on his face for a brief moment. “I’ve been all over,” he replied. “Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia,” he listed off. “I’ve even spent time in the Antarctic.” Your eyes widened with wonder. “For work or…?” you trailed off as he shook his head. “Not exactly,” he answered.

“I’ve lived a very unique… life,” he added, forcing the last word out after some consideration. You tilted your head curiously. “Would you tell me about it?” you asked. He turned his head again, meeting your gaze and a shiver went up your spine. It was almost as if looking into his eyes flipped your flight or fight response and every nerve in your body was telling you to run but you couldn’t.

Not because you were frozen in fear but because this man, a man who was on the verge of possibly throwing himself off the edge of a cliff, thousands of feet off the ground below had lived a unique life and if getting him to talk about it meant he’d step away from the cliff and live his life a little bit longer, then you couldn’t run.

Not if it meant he lived.

He scoffed and turned back to the cliff. “What are you? Some kind of shrink?” he asked, a bitter sound to his voice. You shook your head. “No,” you replied. “You just look like you have a lot of stories to tell,” you continued. “And if you’d like. I’ll listen to you.”

Seungmin didn’t know why, but when he looked at you, he felt as if he could talk to you and that you might actually listen to him. Something deep in him was telling him to talk to you. To keep living a little while longer, even if just to share his stories with you because you were right.

He had a lot of stories.

He found himself spilling almost everything to you. His weariness with life, his solitude, and his exhaustion. He was exhausted with everything. He had grown almost sick of living, sick of being alone, and sick of being alone for so long.

The best thing about you, Seungmin noted, was that you didn’t interrupt or judge him. You listened with rapt attention but it didn’t feel forced or fake. Your genuine curiosity was refreshing and although he knew he shouldn’t get attached, Seungmin found himself craving your company.

Perhaps it was because he’d been alone for so long and you were the first person to show him any interest beyond flirtation or sexual desire. He was unaccustomed to such attention after centuries of not experiencing it and this was the first conversation he’d had with a mortal in ages.

Seungmin took a deep breath, having finished the story of his most recent trip to Europe. A trip that spanned months and took him to places most people never think to visit. The sun had long set since he started his stories and the sky was beginning to lighten, indicating he’d spent the whole night talking.

But more importantly, you’d spent an entire night listening to him. Mortals had such a short time on the planet and yet you’d chosen to spend an entire night listening to him tell you stories of his life and his travels.

And you had actually listened to him.

“Sorry for taking up your whole night,” Seungmin said, glancing back at the sky as it started to lighten into shades of blue and purple. You shook your head, lifting your head from its resting place against your hand. “Not at all,” you replied. “It was fascinating. Thank you for sharing with me,” you replied.

“I’m sure you need to get going,” Seungmin said as you stood up from the log you’d taken a seat on next to him. “What about you?” you asked, looking down at him. Seungmin stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I think I’ll walk with you,” he answered. “Are you heading back to your car?”

You nodded. “I was only supposed to hike up and spend the night,” you replied, starting to walk and he kept pace with you. “And I guess in a way I did that,” you added with a chuckle, one that Seungmin shared. The walk back was punctuated by more stories, not nearly as grand as the ones he’d shared before. Smaller stories about random events and chance encounters on his travels.

The sun was climbing above the trees as the two of you reached the bottom of the mountain, the small gravel parking lot coming into sight where your cat sat, waiting for your triumphant return. “This has probably been the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had,” you started as Seungmin stopped a few paces from your car and you turned to look at him.

“Thank you again,” Seungmin said. “For listening to me.” You offered him a dazzling smile, one that might have taken his breath away had he not already been dead. “Thank you for allowing me to listen,” you replied. You turned and opened the hatch on the back of your car, removing and placing your pack in the back before shutting the door and heading around to the driver’s side.

Seungmin realized at that moment that he’d never gotten your name nor had he shared his.

“Wait,” he called, stepping forward. You hesitated as you pulled open the door and looked up at him.

“What’s your name?” he asked. A smile spread over your face. “Y/N,” you answered.

Seungmin smiled the first genuine smile in years. “Y/N,” he repeated. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Seungmin.” Your smile widened slightly as you finished pulling open your door. “It’s good to meet you, too,” you replied. “See you around, yeah?” you asked before ducking your head and getting into the car.

Seungmin watched as you backed out of your spot and waved at him one last time before pulling out of the parking area and disappearing through the trees on the dirt road, leaving him alone in the clearing.

“Yeah,” he said softly to himself. “See you around.”

The funny thing about time when one has lived as long as Seungmin is that days, weeks, even months, go by in the blink of an eye. At least until Seungmin had met you. Suddenly, life seemed to drag on yet still, days went by, turning into weeks and yet all that occupied his mind was his meeting with you. The random hiker who had somehow managed to save his life.

He’d tried to find you but to no avail. He only had a single name to go off of. Several times, he’d gone back to the national forest, trying the same hiking trail he’d met you on and even trying others but he had no luck it would seem. Finding you was starting to seem impossible. 

Despite being a mostly lonely creature, Seungmin did have one contact he’d kept over the years.

Wonpil.

Seungmin had met the man during a brief stint in the military, meeting the combat medic who turned out to be the same as him, an immortal. A friendship was formed and over the years, even if they hadn’t seen one another for decades, their bond remained intact.

In the modern age, Seungmin could rely on Wonpil for three things.

Loyalty

Perspective

And blood in the form of blood bags.

He never asked how Wonpil was able to acquire them without rousing suspicion but the how wasn’t exactly important. In a day where everyone carried a phone with cameras and facial recognition almost everywhere, Seungmin had to be careful not to feed from living people.

Most immortals who lived in the modern age had switched to feeding from animals, going hunting in the forests instead of feeding from humans. It was safer but even so, one wrong move and an immortal could be caught on camera feeding from a deer or some other woodland critter.

Seungmin had tried the animal diet when he lived in areas closer to the wild but in the city, one was limited on options. So Wonpil, with his job in the hospital, was able to sneak around and steal blood bags without anyone finding out.

It had worked out so well for this life as they were in the same area for once, settled into false identities but Seungmin’s was about to expire. He needed to move on, start anew to avoid drawing attention. He could only pretend to be thirty for so long until suspicions arose.

During one of their meetups so Wonpil could deliver Seungmin’s monthly supply of blood, Seungmin had told his friend of his chance encounter in the woods and Wonpil found it both endearing and amusing. He’d told Seungmin to stop focusing and obsessing over one woman. “You need to go out there and get laid,” he chuckled. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need to get laid,” he retorted, taking the messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Not in this day and age,” he added. Wonpil snorted, crossing his arms as he looked over his shoulder. “This day and age is perfect for that,” he replied.

“No one wants a relationship. They just want something casual,” he added. Seungmin shook his head. They’d had this conversation before but he was still reluctant. What if he ended up liking the person too much? He’d get attached and then just end up hurting them when he inevitably had to leave.

He was far too reluctant to get himself into that situation. Wonpil sighed and placed a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder. “Suit yourself,” he said before patting him and walking away. Seungmin returned home after that and went about his usual routine of cleaning up and putting away his supply.

It was a few days later that things completely changed.

He’d gone by a coffee shop to meet Wonpil for something, he couldn’t even remember what. It’s not like he needed the coffee or any other item the shop offered. It just made them look normal. Made them blend in more.

Wonpil had left after his business and Seungmin had gotten up to leave when he bumped into someone as he reached the door. The sudden action caused him to spin away from the door as did the person who he bumped into, spinning to face him and Seungmin couldn’t believe his eyes.

There you were, looking back at him, shock on your face.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment, seconds stretching into minutes as the two of you stared at one another unmoving, unblinking. Seungmin found it hard to hear anything happening around him. Like everything had been muffled the way the world sounded when one submerged themselves in water.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

As if that was the magic word to break the spell, just as quickly as the world stopped, it picked up again. The sounds of chatter, the sounds of the coffee and espresso machines, the ding of the cash register and the ringing of the bell at the door as new patrons flooded in.

“Seungmin,” you said softly, your lips spreading into another one of your dazzling smiles. “Hey,” Seungmin said, mirroring your smile. “How have you been?” you asked and he stepped aside as someone tried to squeeze past him.

“I’ve been okay,” Seungmin admitted. “A lot better than that day, actually,” he added. Your smile widened, a brief spell of relief washing over your face. “Good,” you said with a nod. “I’m glad to hear that.” Seungmin noted how a silence fell between you but he had no idea what to say.

He’d never experienced this. He’d never not been able to keep a conversation going before. He’d never felt like a school boy talking to his childhood crush before. It was foreign to him. Finally, a feeling he’d never experienced. Something new.

“I wondered if you were just passing through,” you admitted as you stepped aside, pulling the strap of your bag back up on your shoulder as patrons filed past the two of you. “If you weren’t living in the city but instead just on your way through.”

Seungmin shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I live here. Not in this neighborhood,” he added. “But a few blocks north.” Silence again. Why was he so bad at this? Had your first meeting been this awkward and he’d blocked it out because he’d been so focused on wanting to end things?

“Are you staying?” he asked suddenly. You tilted your head in confusion. “Here,” Seungmin added. ‘No. Stupid. You need to elaborate further.’ “What I meant,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Are you getting your order for here?” Your confusion melted away, a small smirk presenting itself.

“I’m on my way to work actually,” you answered. Seungmin felt his heart sink just a little before he had an idea. “Would it be alright if I walked you?” The words left his lips before he could even register them. Your smirk morphed into a bright smile and you nodded. “I just need to place my order,” you said, pointing at the counter.

Seungmin nodded and pointed towards the door. “I’ll just wait out here for you,” he answered. He could have waited inside with you but the cafe was starting to get crowded. Too many warm bodies and where there were warm bodies, there was blood. He needed to clear his head.

Thankfully you didn’t find this odd, only nodding before joining the queue.

Outside the cool autumn air helped Seungmin quell his thirst. Pushing back the beast that threatened to rear its ugly head and make him do something that he would regret. ‘You only have a couple weeks left before you have to leave,’ he reminded himself.

But for some reason, reminding himself of that made him sad.

Before he could dwell on that feeling for too long, the door opened and you joined him on the sidewalk. “Ready?” he asked and you nodded, carrying a hot cup of coffee and a small paper sack. Seungmin followed your lead, keeping pace with you as you walked.

He learned that you had lived in the city for a few months. Your move came with a transfer with your job.

“What do you do?” he asked as you took a sip of your coffee, sighing softly. You sniffled, the cold air no doubt nipping at your skin and making your nose run. Seungmin hadn’t experienced that in centuries. He didn’t remember what it was like to feel cold or warmth.

“I’m a pediatric nurse,” you replied. “I work at Seoul General,” you added as you continued walking. ‘Seoul General?’ Seungmin thought. “Oh,” he said, nodding. “I have a friend that works there, actually.” You looked up at him, eyes wide. Whether it was excitement or curiosity, Seungmin couldn’t tell.

“Oh really?” you asked. “I wonder if I’ve met them yet,” you added. Seungmin shrugged as the hospital started to come into view. “Perhaps you have,” he replied. “Who’s your friend?” you asked, looking at him. “Wonpil. Kim Wonpil,” Seungmin answered.

Your eyes lit up. “I know Dr. Kim!” you replied. ‘Excitement,’ Seungmin noted. ‘Definitely excitement.’ He smiled as you started to slow your pace. “I didn’t know you were friends with Dr. Kim!” Seungmin chuckled at your response as you neared the doors.

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” he replied. “We go way back.”

You glanced at the doors briefly before looking back at Seungmin. “I need to get clocked in but could I get your number? Maybe we can meet up for drinks or coffee sometime?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Seungmin’s heart sank. ‘Number? Oh no…’

Seungmin had managed to adapt to the times. Following trends, especially fashion. He understood email, he understood online ordering, he got all of it. The one thing Seungmin hadn’t seemed to keep up with were mobile phones.

He’d never had one, nor had he ever used one. Wonpil had one. Of course he did, but Seungmin hadn’t quite caught up to that part yet. Even if it was 2023. And now he had the misfortune of telling you that he didn’t have a mobile phone.

“Uh…” he hesitated, uncertain of how to even explain this. You stared at him expectantly. He wondered what was going through your head, rushing to explain before he lost the opportunity. “I don’t have one,” he finally managed to blurt out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times as you processed his words. ‘Great. Now she probably thinks you’re some kind of weirdo.’ After a moment of silence, you wordlessly opened your purse, fishing out a small pad of paper and a pen and quickly scratched something down. “Here,” you said, holding out the paper. “It’s my number,” you said, smiling at him.

He didn’t detect any sarcasm as you spoke. “If you end up getting one sometime, give me a call. Or a text,” you said as you dropped the pen and paper back into your bag. “And then we can get that coffee,” you added, giving him a wink. “I’ll see you around,” you called as you backed towards the hospital entrance.

Seungmin looked up as you waved. He waved back. “I’ll call you!” he called back and you sent him a thumbs up before entering the hospital and leaving him standing on the sidewalk in awe of what just happened. He looked back down at the small piece of paper in his hand. Your number looked back at him, the numbers silently judging him for not owning a phone.

Yet you didn’t. You didn’t even question it. Surely you thought it strange he didn’t have a mobile phone in such a technologically advanced age and city. Seoul was a hub of technology and of technological advancements but yet you said nothing on the subject, merely offering a solution.

Seungmin tucked the paper in his wallet carefully and started back down the sidewalk, a new confidence in his step. He knew exactly what he had to do. He needed to update, get with the times. His walk took him through the front door of a high rise building, catching the elevator up to the seventeenth floor.

He reached the apartment he’d been looking for, raising his fist and knocking heavily on the door three times. Then three more when no one answered. He knocked three more times before he heard the lock slide and the door opened, Wonpil appearing before him with a look of annoyance and confusion.

“What is your problem?” he asked, looking around. “I was sleeping,” he added. Seungmin stared back at him. “What?” Wonpil asked. “You look like you just murdered someone,” he joked. “Do you need help with the body?” he added under his breath. Seungmin shook his head. “That’s not what I need help with,” he replied.

“Then why are you pounding on my door? You know I sleep during the day because I work overnight shifts for the next two weeks,” Wonpil asked. “I do need your help,” Seungmin clarified. Wonpil nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “With what?” he asked as he let Seungmin into the apartment.

“It must be urgent if you’re coming in here, guns blazing,” he joked as he walked over to the kitchen island and looked back at Seungmin who nodded. “I got her number.”

Wonpil stared blankly at him. “Got whose number?” he asked. “Y/N’s,” Seungmin replied. Wonpil’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, really? When? How?” Seungmin explained how just after he left the cafe, Seungmin ran into Y/N and then walked her to work. “And she works at your hospital,” he continued.

Wonpil smirked as he hopped up onto the kitchen island to sit. “I can totally hook you two up,” he said as Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I don’t need you to hook me up,” he replied.

Wonpil held his hands up. “Then what do you need my help with?” he asked, looking confused. Seungmin cleared his throat before looking up at his friend. “I need a mobile phone. Now.”

Since acquiring the phone, Seungmin hadn’t been able to bring himself to make the call. Each time he picked up the device and tried to type out a message, it just didn’t feel right. Wonpil had sat down and shown him exactly how to use the device and even gave him some tips and pointers but it just felt… wrong.

After the tenth attempt at texting, Seungmin erased the message and set the phone down on the table in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn’t he just send a text? It wasn’t that hard, right?

He stared at the screen, hearing the ticking of the clock on the wall as he stared. He stared for a couple more minutes before grabbing it again and instead of typing he pressed the call button. This had to be easier, right? Talking was easier than trying to type.

Wonpil had been very precise that Seungmin did not write his texts like emails. It would make him look really weird and the last thing Seungmin wanted was for you to think he was weird.

He was certain if his heart had a beat that it would be pounding in his chest as he listened to the ringing through the receiver. If he could sweat, his palms would be clammy. Even if he was nervous, there was no way for him to express it except in his voice when you finally did answer.

“Hello?” Your voice sounded just as lovely as the last time he’d heard it. “Hello?” you said again. ‘Fuck. Answer her!’

“H-hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. Seungmin quickly recovered, crossing his arm over his chest and tucking his hand under his arm. “Uh, hi,” you replied, sounding unsure. “Who is this?” Seungmin started to pace from the kitchen to the living room.

“It-it’s Seungmin,” he clarified, clearing his throat, trying to push his nerves away and keep the conversation going. “Oh hey!” you said, instantly sounded much more excited to hear from him. ‘That’s a good sign,’ he told himself. “So you got a phone?” you asked.

Seungmin nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. Wonpil had warned him that almost no one said ‘yes’ over the phone except “boomers” and that Seungmin did not want to be lumped in with them.

“Welcome to the 21st century,” you said jokingly, making Seungmin chuckle nervously. “Am I your first call?” you asked and Seungmin hesitated. Should he say yes? Should he lie and say no? He decided against lying. “Yes,” he replied.

“I’m flattered,” you said and though Seungmin knew you were joking, he could tell it was just in good humor. He smiled to himself. “So,” you started and Seungmin heard the sound of rustling on the other side of the phone. Almost like the sound of sheets. Were you home in bed? He tried not to think about you in bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being your first mobile phone call?”

Seungmin straightened up, moving his free hand to slip into his pocket. “I’m not entirely sure,” he answered truthfully. “To be honest, I didn’t have a plan when I called you.” He heard you chuckle lightly on the other end. “So you’re just winging it?” you asked. Seungmin laughed, continuing to pace slowly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied. His nerves had calmed down and he found it easy to talk to you like this. “Well, how about I invite you out to dinner?” you asked, catching him off guard. ‘Dinner?’

“Like… a date?” Seungmin asked, waiting anxiously for your answer. “Or like two friends getting to know each other, if that makes you more comfortable. No expectations.” Seungmin paused, looking around his apartment slowly. The boxes in the corner that were half packed to the bare walls. He only had a few more weeks here in the city. ‘What the hell,’ he thought. ‘Why not?’

“Sure,” he replied. “Perfect. How about Saturday?” you asked. “I start a new rotation tomorrow so I’ll be free in the evenings.” You sounded excited about this and Seungmin tried not to get his hopes up. After all, he couldn’t get attached. He was moving soon. “Saturday works,” he replied.

“Great, I’ll text you the location of the restaurant,” you continued and Seungmin chuckled. “I don’t get a say in this?” he asked and you giggled. “I’m inviting you out, so no,” you replied. “I’ll see you Saturday, seven o’clock?” Seungmin’s smile widened.

“Seven o’clock,” he repeated. “It’s a date.”

Saturday came much too quickly for his liking and internally, Seungmin was panicking. He didn’t know how to do any of this. He was from a completely different time period. He had no idea how dating in the 21st century worked. He’d seen movies and television shows but none of it prepared him for what he was getting himself into.

You had sent a text with the location of the restaurant and Seungmin arrived at six-fifty, giving himself plenty of time to prepare to spend a few hours with you in a restaurant full of people. He’d chosen to walk, enjoying the scenery of the city as the sun slowly descended behind the buildings and the way the sky erupted into oranges and pinks as the celestial body sank further below the horizon.

The restaurant was a small upscale place nestled into the base of one of the many high rises near the heart of the city. Seungmin glanced through one of the large square windows on the front of the building, allowing him a glimpse inside the establishment.

Couple sat at small round white draped tables, eating their meals by candlelight and sipping their drinks. He noticed a familiar face sitting at the bar in a fitted black satin dress. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, thanking the attendant who opened the door and let him in.

Once inside, he was greeted by a host who promptly asked him for the name for his reservation but Seungmin didn’t look at him. His eyes were trained on you as you turned, catching his eye and smiling as you waved. Seungmin pointed in your direction. 

“My date is at the bar,” he said to the host who turned to look back at you. “Ah yes,” he said, turning back to the book. “Your table is not quite ready but I will inform you when it is.” Seungmin nodded and squeezed past the host, making his way over to where you sat.

Inside, he had a better look at what you’d chosen to wear and he was glad he decided to dress up as everyone in the restaurant had the same idea. You smiled as he reached you, sliding into the seat beside you. “You’re early,” you noted, looking up from your drink.

He hadn’t noticed it before but you’d ordered a cocktail and it was half finished. He wondered how long you’d been waiting. “As are you,” Seungmin noted as he settled into the seat. You flashed him a sheepish smile and turned your attention to your drink.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked and you shook your head, taking a sip of your drink. “Only a few minutes,” you replied as the bartender approached. “Can I get you anything, sir?” he asked, directing his question at Seungmin. “Whiskey, neat please,” Seungmin said as he pulled his wallet out. The bartender nodded and turned to start pouring Seungmin’s order.

“Whiskey without any chaser? You sound like a simple man,” you said, toying with the stem of your glass. A moment later, Seungmin’s drink was set in front of him and he thanked the man, passing him a couple notes. “I try to be,” Seungmin said, lifting the glass to take a sip.

“So, how does it feel to have finally joined us in the twenty-first century,” you asked, leaning on your arm against the counter. Seungmin felt his lips twitch into a smirk. “You make me sound like I’m ancient and out of touch with reality,” he mused, taking another sip.

“Are you?” you asked, drawing his attention. “Out of touch with reality?” Seungmin asked, watching as you shrugged your shoulders. “Or ancient?” Seungmin could have sworn his dead heart tried to skip a beat but it lay still in his chest.

He scoffed, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass. “What makes you think that?” he asked before looking back up to meet your gaze. You studied his features carefully, eyes lingering on his for a moment longer than he liked.

Before you could respond, the two of you were interrupted.

“Excuse me,” the host from before said. Both you and Seungmin turned at the same time. “Your table is ready.”

Once you migrated from the bar with your drinks, Seungmin ordered another whiskey while you both looked over the menu, looking for something that he could ingest without arousing suspicion. “Do you eat a lot of Italian food?” Seungmin asked, looking up from his menu.

You shook your head. “No,” you admitted. “Unless you count pizza,” you joked. Seungmin smiled, returning to the black words before him. He settled on a steak with a simple side dish while you ordered some kind of seafood pasta.

“I’ve heard the pizza in Italy is nothing like the rest of the world,” you said as you picked up your water glass. Seungmin nodded, setting his now empty whiskey glass down. “It is,” he replied. You looked up from your glass. “You’ve been to Italy, too? Why am I not surprised,” you mused with a smirk.

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders, smiling back. “I’ve been all over Europe,” he reminded you. You set your water glass down and leaned forward slightly. “And the States,” you added to his statement. He nodded. “And Asia,” he continued. “Hmm,” you hummed, looking down at his fingers drumming against the white tablecloth.

“What’s the best place you’ve visited? Your favorite,” you asked, clarifying what you meant at the end. Seungmin hesitated. That was a good question. One he doesn’t think he’s ever answered. Then again, he didn’t make a habit of conversing with people other than Wonpil. What was his favorite place to visit?

As he pondered, the server stopped by the table. “Would you like another drink, sir?” he asked, to which Seungmin shook his head. “No thank you,” he replied. “Two is my limit,” he added, looking up as the server nodded, taking the empty whiskey glass.

You fought the urge to smile, thanking the server as he took your empty cocktail glass as well. “Would you like another?” he asked softly. Seungmin saw your eyes flicker to him and then back and you nodded. “Just one more. Three is my limit,” you replied, turning to look at Seungmin with a smirk.

He returned the smile before looking away. “So, my favorite place?” he asked. You nodded again. “A place you couldn’t forget, even if you tried,” you replied. Seungmin’s eyes widened comically as he chortled. “Wow. Okay, no pressure then,” he said as he shifted in his seat.

“I think I’d have to pick Milan. Especially during autumn. It’s spectacular,” he replied. You rested your chin in your hand, watching as he explained. “In summer, it’s just so hot and humid. Especially in July and August. But in autumn? Perfect. Temperatures aren’t hot, it’s mild. Absolutely gorgeous,” he added.

You sat back as the server returned with not only your drink but also the food. Seungmin was surprised by the portions, especially of your pasta. He knew he’d only be able to eat part of his meal. He’d have to take the rest to go.

As the two of you ate, he asked you more questions. He learned you moved to Seoul for work. He asked about your hometown and your family. He was surprised to learn that your parents still lived in your hometown and that you went home almost every year during the holidays.

He also learned that you loved animals, cats were among your favorite and that you actually had a cat at home in your apartment. He learned that you had a studio apartment in a high rise a few blocks west of the coffee shop that had a view of the river. 

You told him how you loved books. You loved to read and most of your free time was spent curled up on your couch with a blanket, a hot cup of tea, and a book in your hands. Sometimes your cat curled up in your lap and sometimes she would curl up next to you as you read.

Seungmin focused more on your words than his food and when the server came by he asked for the rest of it to go. Once the food was packed up and your drink finished, Seungmin fished his wallet out and you held up your hand. “I invited you out,” you started but Seungmin was much quicker, handing his wallet to the server. 

You stared at him, looking up to find the confused look on the server’s face. Seungmin glanced up, realizing his mistake in an instant. “Sorry,” he muttered, snatching his wallet, opening it and handing the card over. The server walked away, still processing what just happened as you looked down at the table, biting your bottom lip to hold in the laugh Seungmin knew was trying to escape.

“I meant to do that, you know,” he addressed you. Nodding, he could tell you didn’t quite believe him. He looked down at the table, silence falling over you as he, too, processed what he’d just done. As it set in, he snorted, holding back a laugh. Never before had he done something so absentminded as hand his entire wallet to a server to pay for a meal before.

How weird did he look? Would the server take it as stupidity or pretentiousness? As the server returned with the slip, Seungmin thanked him, holding back his laughter. He signed the slip and left a generous tip. He quickly returned his card to its home in his wallet and looked up at you.

“We should probably go,” he said softly. Your shoulders were shaking from holding back your laughter. You cleared your throat and nodded, getting up and Seungmin followed, grabbing the bag of to-go food. You both hurried towards the entrance, thanking the staff as you exited the building.

Once outside, you took one look at Seungmin, meeting his eye and both of you burst into laughter, ignoring the looks of other pedestrians as they passed by you. “What the hell was that?” you asked, your laughter subsiding only for a moment.

“I have no idea,” Seungmin replied, laughing just as hard. “I’ve never done that before!”

As the two of you started down the sidewalk, you continued to laugh about the wallet situation.

“It was just the look on his face,” you said, giggling hysterically. “He was so confused!”

“I know! I wish I could have read his mind. I wonder if he thought I was some pretentious asshole,” Seungmin countered. “Or just dumb,” you snorted. “Not that you are,” you clarified quickly. Seungmin burst into another round of laughter.

“I mean, I did just try to pay for our meals by handing over my entire wallet like we were getting mugged in an alley,” he reminded you, another round of laughter emitting from both of you.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your building and Seungmin stopped as you did, looking up at your building. “This is me,” you noted, turning back to look at him. Seungmin nodded. 

“It’s getting cold out here,” he replied, his eyes threatening to dip down to look over your body again. He’d avoided it back in the restaurant by looking at other things in the establishment but out here, alone, in front of your apartment building he found it much harder to resist.

“It is,” you nodded. Silence fell between you but it wasn’t awkward this time. There was a certain tension. Something Seungmin hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sexual tension. He cleared his throat softly, noticing how you drew your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you want to come up?” you asked softly and Seungmin froze. He had no expectations going into this, knowing he was going to be leaving the city and his current life behind in a couple weeks so your question caught him off guard. Could he? He could, he was capable of going up to your apartment and giving you what you were probably expecting. He had the ability to do so.

But could he do that, knowing that something more might come out of it when he knew he was leaving? Could he do that to you or to himself? Was he strong enough to give in for just a couple weeks and then leave, never to return? He knew the answer to that question before he even asked himself.

“No,” he said softly, shaking his head and giving you a kind smile. “I’m afraid I’m a bit more old fashioned,” he added. The brief hurt on your face was replaced by understanding. The classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ tactic. You returned his smile. “I understand,” you replied.

“That’s actually kind of refreshing,” you added. “Most guys can’t wait for the date to get to this part, hoping I’ll invite them up but to be honest,” you explained. “I almost never invite them in.”

Seungmin felt a small surge of pride. It felt good to know that you felt comfortable enough to invite him in although you should feel anything but comfortable in his presence. “Maybe another time,” you added. Seungmin nodded wordlessly, not wanting to give you any false hope.

The man in him was screaming at him, cursing at him for letting you walk away. You stepped forward, closing the distance and kissing him on the cheek. It happened so quickly, Seungmin couldn’t stop it without hurting you physically or emotionally. When you drew back, you uttered a soft goodnight and turned to head up the steps to your building’s door.

Seungmin stood rooted to the spot, watching you walk away. He finally allowed him the chance to look over your body, the man in him still screaming at the lost opportunity to have you beneath him. Once you were safely inside, Seungmin turned and started in the direction of his apartment, going over the events of the night in his mind.

It had been awkward for him at first but he was surprised by how easily you both seemed to get along. The conversation, the joking, the wallet situation that still made him chuckle. The chemistry was there, he couldn’t deny it. And so when you called him a couple days later, asking him on another date, he couldn’t find it in him to say no.

Nor when you asked him on another. He enjoyed every minute he spent with you. He enjoyed your company far more than he enjoyed Wonpil’s, though he’d never tell his friend that. He normally shied away from humans physically but with you, everything felt natural.

The way you grabbed his hand when you were walking, the way you leaned into him, even when you kissed his cheek goodnight after he turned your offer to come up again and again. Everything with you felt right. Each time spent with you only drew him closer and closer to when he’d have to say goodbye.

He had a week left and so he decided to invite you out for once, calling you up.

“Oh, sorry,” you said over the receiver. He could hear the sound of you moving around your apartment. “I actually have plans tonight.” Seungmin felt his stomach sink. ‘Plans?’ he wondered and briefly, he thought maybe he’d turned you down one too many times until you spoke again.

“Yeah, my friend Ami is in town and it’s her birthday so we’re going to the club tonight,” you explained. Seungmin felt the weight in his stomach dissipate and he felt better instantly. “Oh? Where at?” he asked. “At this new club down by the main strip in Gangnam,” you replied. He heard the clicking of heels. You must be getting ready to leave.

“Well, have fun and be safe,” Seungmin said as he heard your keys jingle through the phone. “Thanks,” you said, a smile in your voice. “I’ll be careful,” you added. “And tell your friend I said happy birthday.” Your chuckle rang out and it made Seungmin miss hearing it in person. “I will,” you replied.

“I gotta go,” you said as Seungmin heard you open your door. “I’ll let you know when I get there and when I get home,” you added. “If it’ll make you feel better.” Seungmin smiled to himself. “It would, actually,” he answered. “Thank you.”

After you hung up, Seungmin plugged his phone in, hurrying through the apartment and changed at inhuman speed before returning to his phone, snatching it up and dialing Wonpil’s number. After the second ring, Wonpil answered the phone.

“What’s up?” he asked and Seungmin looked at himself in the mirror above the dining room table. “Do you have plans right now?” he asked. Wonpil fell silent for a moment before answering. “No?” he said hesitantly. “Want to go do something?” Seungmin asked.

“Dude, are you finally enjoying life again?” Wonpil asked, sounding both shocked and excited. “Well,” Seungmin said, playing with his hair, trying to get some of it to lay a certain way. “I’ve been on like 4 dates with Y/N,” he answered.

He heard Wonpil whoop through the phone. “Finally! You got laid!” Seungmin’s smile fell. “Actually about that,” he started and he could hear Wonpil groan through the phone. “Dude!” Seungmin held up his finger, even if Wonpil couldn’t see him. “To be fair, I’m leaving the city in like a week,” he explained.

“You know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s go out,” Wonpil said. “Where are we going?”

A smile spread across his face. “Have you been to the new club in Gangnam?”

Getting to the club was easy, and meeting Ami and Hae-eun was even easier. You hated turning Seungmin down but you’d had these plans for a couple weeks now. You could always see him another day. “Y/N!” Ami said excitedly as you joined her and Hae-eun in line.

“Hey,” you said, giving her a hug before you turned to hug Hae-eun. “Look at you,” Hae-eun said, looking at your dress. “I’ve been wanting to wear this for a while,” you admitted. “But I don’t have a chance to go to clubs anymore.”

“Is that hospital overworking?” Ami asked as the line moved closer to the door. “No,” you replied, waving your hand as you took a step forward with your friends. “I’ve actually started dating,” you admitted. Ami gasped dramatically. “No way,” she said and Hae-eun lightly slapped her arm.

“Stop teasing her,” Hae-eun chastised. “I think it’s great,” she added as the three of you took another step closer to the doors. “I like that you’re settled in enough to start dating again.” You smiled at her, thanking her silently.

It only took a few minutes more to get to the door, show your IDs to the bouncer and get inside after paying your cover charge.

Once inside, you maneuvered through the crowd towards the bar to order drinks. Hae-eun opened the first tab on her card and once you each had a drink or two in Ami’s case, the three of you tried to find an open table and were lucky enough to find three open places on one of the sofas.

Playing catch up over drinks and the loud music was difficult but you managed and after downing a drink, Hae-eun dragged both you and Ami onto the floor, even if you lost your spot. It had been a while since you’d been dancing with your friends but it was nice to let loose.

Seungmin had been a blessing, spending time with him helped you unwind but you couldn’t lie that you were left feeling a little frustrated each time he declined to come back up to your apartment at the end of each date. You understood his position completely. He wasn’t a casual sex kind of guy and you couldn’t fault him for that but you couldn’t deny that you were really hot for him.

Like really really hot.

You’d had more than one dream that left you even more frustrated than before.

“I need water!” you called over the heavy bass to your friends who nodded and continued to dance as you squeezed through the crowd of sweaty patrons and headed for the bar to get some water.

You were glad you chose a comfortable dress that was still form fitting and showed off your curves. As you approached the bar, you smiled at the bartender who stopped in front of you. “Water please,” you said, leaning in and grabbing a napkin or two, starting to dab at your forehead and neck.

As you waited, you managed to dab and wipe away some of the sweat, tossing the napkins away as the person beside you stepped away from the bar, leaving an open space that was quickly occupied by another body. “Here you go,” the bartender said, passing you an unopened bottle of water.

You thanked him, twisting the top off and taking a drink.

You were aware of the eyes on you and you glanced to the side, noticing how the man who had walked up was looking at you. His eyes looked up and down your body before looking up to meet your gaze. He gave you a smile which you did not return.

“Hey,” the man said and you turned back to look at him. You said nothing, forcing a polite smile before turning back away, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t.

“I saw you from across the room,” he started, leaning in to speak into your ear. You leaned away from him, the scent of his cologne overpowering your senses. “Your eyes work,” you noted. “Good for you.” He laughed heavily, the sound instantly putting you off.

You grabbed your bottle of water and excused yourself, turning and walking away from the bar. You spotted your friends in the crowd but before you could step off to weave through the crowd and join them, you felt a rough hand grab your arm. “I wasn’t done talking to you,” the man growled.

You quickly untwist the cap on your bottle of water and squeezed it, sending water into his face. “Yes you were,” you snapped and pulled from his grip. “No means no.”

Not giving him a chance to respond or react, you dumped the rest of your water on his shoes and tossed the bottle in the waste bin nearby, turning and heading into the crowd to find Ami and Hae-eun. They turned as you arrived and both their smiles fell upon seeing your annoyed expression.

You gave them a short explanation and commended you for how you handled the situation. They pulled you in to dance some more before the three of you headed back to the bar for more drinks. You were here celebrating with your friends and nothing, not even some creep, was going to ruin your fun.

As you sat back down at the sofa, Hae-eun rounded on you. “So,” she started, tapping your knee. “Tell us about this guy.” Ami’s eyes widened in excitement. “Ooh, yes!” she exclaimed. You shrugged your shoulders, stirring your drink with the small black straw.

“What do you want to know?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible. 

“How did you meet?”

“Is he hot?”

“Where did you meet?”

“Is he rich?”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Does he have a big-”

Hae-eun slapped Ami’s arm. “Stop with the superficial questions!” she hissed, making you snort and shake your head at their antics. ‘The same as ever,’ you noted.

“We met in the national park,” you started, looking at Hae-eun. “Yes, he’s hot,” you continued, looking at Ami. “I don’t know what he does for a living but he’s got enough money to pay for all our dates,” you added. The two stared at you, waiting for more. “And???” Ami asked. 

“And what?” you asked, looking between them.

“I think what the birthday girl is asking,” Hae-eun said, throwing a glare at Ami. “Is ‘have you slept together?’” Ami nodded excitedly, looking at you expectantly. You averted your eyes from their questioning gazes, suddenly more interested in your drink.

“We haven’t,” you finally answered quietly. Ami groaned and Hae-eun shushed her. “This is why none of your dates go anywhere, Y/N,” Ami said pointedly, ignoring the glare Hae-eun gave her. You looked up at them, confusion written on your face.

“But I’ve invited him up!” you protested. “Numerous times actually.” Ami exchanged glances with Hae-eun. “And he says no?” Hae-eun asked, to which you nodded. “Every time; he declines, we say goodnight, I kiss him on the cheek, and then he waits for me to go inside before he leaves,” you explained.

“He’s gay,” Ami said suddenly, making Hae-eun choke on her drink.

“He’s not gay,” you retorted. “He even said he’s just old fashioned. He’s not into casual sex.” Ami rolled her eyes, settling back against the sofa. “Gaaaaaaay,” she shouted. Hae-eun covered her mouth with her hand, apologizing to the group sitting next to you.

You looked back down at your drink. “Maybe he’s a virgin!” Ami suddenly said and you shrugged. “And if he is?” you asked, looking up. “Is that so bad?” Ami hesitated but Hae-eun jumped in. “No,” she replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she replied.

“It’s boring!” Ami said loudly, earning another slap to the arm from Hae-eun.

“Well, I think it’s refreshing to have a guy not want to get into my pants and actually take an interest in building something first,” you retorted. “Not everything has to be about sex. Meaningful relationships are important, too,” you added. Hae-eun raised her glass. “Hear, hear,” she said.

You gently tapped your glass against hers before taking a sip while Ami shrugged.

“I still think he’s a boring, gay virgin.”

Seungmin had met Wonpil at the door, managing to get to the club at the same time Wonpil was ready to go in. They’d paid their cover charges, slipped inside and headed for the bar. Seungmin ordered a simple whiskey neat and spent most of the first few hours nursing the drink.

Wonpil was looking around, noticing a few ladies not far smiling his way but tonight wasn’t about that as Seungmin had explained as soon as they entered the establishment. “I can’t believe the first time ever of you inviting me out is about spying on your girlfriend,” he murmured, downing the rest of his second drink.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Seungmin retorted, keeping his eyes on you as you danced with your friends. You had finished one drink already that he saw and took to the floor immediately after, following your two friends. He had half a mind to slip onto the dance floor and join you.

He was vaguely listening to Wonpil talk about work when he noticed you were no longer on the dance floor. He saw your friends but there was no sign of you. Sitting up quickly, his eyes darted around until he finally found you, relief flooding him but it was short lived.

You had managed to ask the bartender for something when a man in a gray suit sidled up to the bar beside you. The way he was staring at your body made Seungmin’s stomach churn. He watched as the man spoke to you but due to all the other interference of the loud music and chatter around him, Seungmin couldn’t tell what was being said but based on your body language, you weren’t into it.

Seungmin watched as you walked away from the bar, feeling a bit better but when the man followed, grabbing you by the arm, he clenched his hand so hard, the glass in Seungmin’s hand shattered, sending whiskey all over the table.

“Whoa, dude, chill,” Wonpil hissed, starting to pick up the pieces, catching the attention of one of the servers who came over with a towel. “I’m so sorry,” Wonpil said as he helped her gather the glass in the towel. “My friend doesn’t know his own strength sometimes,” he added as he brushed Seungmin’s hand off and accepted a clean towel to clean up the alcohol.

“Thank you so much,” Wonpil said, offering another apology.

Seungmin’s eyes were still on you and the man. You’d managed to untwist the cap of your water bottle and squeeze the liquid in his face, prompting to let go before you dumped the remainder on his shoes and then left to join your friends.

Seungmin felt a surge of pride at watching the exchange but he didn’t miss the murderous look the man threw your way before he stormed off towards the bathrooms. Seungmin kept his eye on you but also kept an eye out for the man.

It was maybe about twenty or thirty minutes later that you got up from the couch after settling there with new drinks that you made your way towards the bathrooms. Seungmin had yet to see the man but when you passed the bar, a figure turned and Seungmin saw it was the man.

He felt his stomach churn again as the man got up and started after you, keeping his distance. “I’ll be back,” Seungmin announced to Wonpil and got up from his seat, turning and weaving through the crowd in the direction of the bathrooms.

You managed to make it through the crowd and into the bathroom. As you were shutting the door, a foot blocked it and you looked up to see the same man from before. He pushed the door open, forcing you back. “This is the women’s bathroom,” you remarked but he said nothing, instead, shutting the door and to your horror you heard the lock click.

“You need to get out,” you said as he advanced. Again he said nothing.

You backed away as he continued forward towards you.

“Get the fuck out. What is your problem?” you snapped, which finally got a response. “You think that was funny?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Splashing water in my face in front of everyone?” You narrowed your eyes. “If you hadn’t been such a creep and left me alone when I literally walked away from you, maybe I wouldn’t have had to splash water in your face,” you replied.

“If you didn’t want attention, you shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” he retorted. You rolled your eyes. “Seriously dude? Grow up. Get out before I call security,” you warned. He scoffed, almost laughing at you. “How’re you gonna do that when you can’t even scream?” he asked.

Your eyes widened and before you could move, he closed the distance, pushing you back against the sink, one hand going round your throat and pushing your head back against the mirror. You heard the glass crack and splinter as your head made contact, the impact dazing you for a moment. 

You tried to claw at his hand. “L-let go!” you choked out. His free hand moved to the hem of your dress. “I’ll teach you a lesson, slut,” he growled. Before he could do anything else, the door was thrown open with such force you thought a bomb had gone off.

“Get your hands off her,” a familiar voice snapped. You heard the impact of a punch and the sound of a body falling into the wall before you felt a presence standing in front of you. “Y/N, holy shit, look at me,” the voice said. Gentle hands took hold of your face and through your swimming vision you saw Seungmin’s face.

“S-Seungmin?” you stammered. “Back off buddy,” the other guy said, advancing but Seungmin turned to look at him, a deep growl emitting from his chest. It rumbled so intensely that you felt it on your skin. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking fingers off, one by one,” he threatened.

Without another word, Seungmin easily lifted you off the sink, carrying you from the bathroom and through the crowd easily. He stopped at the door to inform the bouncers of the situation but you couldn’t pay attention. Soon the cool autumn air hit your skin and you opened your eyes. 

You were outside.

“Where’s your phone?” Seungmin asked, carrying you to the end of the block and kneeling down, holding you up with one hand as he pulled his own phone from his pocket. “It’s here,” you murmured, gesturing at your chest where you had stuffed your phone earlier as your dress had no pockets.

“Can you get it out for me?” Seungmin asked softly as he dialed something on his phone and held his phone up to his ear. “Yeah, I got her,” Seungmin said softly into the receiver. “I’m gonna call an ambulance. Get her friends and I’ll text you the location of the hospital they take her,” he continued.

You shook your head. “No mmbulance,” you mumbled. Seungmin pulled his phone away from his ear and started typing again before holding it back up to his ear. “Y/N, you’ve hit your head,” Seungmin explained. “You’re bleeding so you might need stitches,” he continued. “And you might have a concussion.”

You looked up as he waited for whoever he was calling to answer. In the glow of the neon lights of the city he was exceptionally beautiful. You blinked slowly as you watched him. His hair was pushed back, like he’d intentionally styled it or had run his fingers through it so much it was holding.

His irises were red and you don’t know how you never noticed it before.

“You have pretty eyes,” you said, your speech slurring slightly. Seungmin looked down at you, his lips parting before he looked back up. “Hi, yes, I need an ambulance to the corner of Gangnam Boulevard and the 69th street. Address? Uh…” Seungmin looked up and around for an address to give what you assumed was a 1-1-9 dispatcher.

You tuned out the words, instead just watching him speak as the throbbing of your head started to set in.

“Thank you,” he replied, drawing you back to reality. “Ow,” you murmured as he put his phone away. “An ambulance is on the way,” he said, shifting so he was leaning against the wall of the building and keeping you on his lap. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?” he asked softly.

“Ssseven,” you slurred. “Y/N oh my god! What happened!” a voice rang out. Seungmin looked up as did you. A smile spread across your face as Ami and Hae-eun hurried over with some guy you’d never seen. He looked a bit like Seungmin. You glanced at Seungmin again and then to the man and back at Seungmin.

“Are you two brothers?” you asked, pointing between them. Seungmin looked up at the man who stared back. “Uh, Y/N,” Seungmin replied. “That’s Wonpil.” You looked again and the realization dawned on you. “Dr. Kim!” you said suddenly, trying to sit up but Seungmin kept a firm grip on you.

“Whoa,” Wonpil said as he moved and knelt down. “No sudden movements, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle. “You know that. Let me see your head,” he said, gently taking your head and turning it so he could inspect the back. “It’s bleeding,” he noted.

“But it doesn’t seem too bad,” he added. “Might not even need stitches,” he continued with a smile and a wink. “But you could have a concussion,” he said, glancing at Seungmin. “Okay,” Hae-eun said, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Not to be rude, but who the fuck are you two?”

Wonpil chuckled at Hae-eun’s aggressiveness. “I’m Wonpil. I work with Y/N,” he introduced himself. “I’m a doctor at Seoul General. This is my friend Seungmin who also happens to be dating your friend Y/N,” he added, gesturing at Seungmin.

“Ami! Ami! Seungmin is the one you think is a gay virgin,” you blurted out, looking at Ami who looked positively horrified at your candor. You felt Seungmin freeze under you. “Y/N,” Hae-eun hissed. “You can’t say things like that.” You looked at her. “Oh, sorry, Hae-eun.”

Wonpil looked as if he might burst a seam, holding in his laughter.

“I am so sorry,” Ami said, looking at Seungmin. You looked up at him trying to decipher his expression but it was unreadable. “He’s just a gentleman,” you replied, still looking up at him. Seungmin looked down, meeting your gaze and you noticed the small smile he gave you.

“He’s just old fashioned and there’s nothing wrong with that,” you continued. You looked around as everyone was bathed in red and blue lights. “Is the wee woo wagon here?” you asked, making Wonpil snort as Seungmin carefully shifted as two paramedics got out of the ambulance.

“Yes,” he said, glancing down at you. “The wee woo wagon is here.” You closed your eyes, letting out a laugh. “Wee woo, wee woo,” you said, mimicking the siren as a new set of hands started to look you over and carefully placed you on a soft material.

“Wow,” you said as one person started to check your blood pressure. “The concrete sure is soft.”

Wonpil let out another laugh before covering his mouth. “Sorry,” he said softly. After starting an IV and checking your vitals and the wound on your head, you were loaded into the ambulance. “We only have space for one of you,” one of the paramedics said. “I’ll go,” Wonpil offered. “I’m a doctor and her colleague,” he added. “I’ll text you the location,” he said as he climbed in.

Seungmin nodded, keeping his eyes on you as the doors were shut and the ambulance took off, sirens blaring. “This is not how tonight was supposed to go,” Ami said tearfully, Hae-eun leaning into her looking every bit as worried as Seungmin felt.

“Where will they take her?” Ami asked, looking at Seungmin who shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Wonpil will let me know as soon as they get close,” he added.

Seungmin glanced behind him, back towards the club. His mind was full of thoughts to go back. To finish what he had in his mind but the buzzing of his phone pulled him from those dark thoughts. Seungmin glanced down at his phone, the screen lighting up with a notification from Wonpil.

Wonpil: they’re taking her to our hospital. Visiting hours will be ending soon. Get there fast

“I got a location,” Seungmin announced, Ami and Hae-eun turning to look at him. “Where” Ami asked as Seungmin hailed a cab, pocketing his phone. The driver pulled up to the curb and Seungmin turned to the two. “Seoul General,” he replied. “But we have to hurry.”

He got into the front while Ami and Hae-eun got into the back and he told the driver where to go.

He’d deal with the creep later.

The drive to the hospital didn’t take long and soon, the cab was pulling up to the emergency entrance. “Thank you so much,” Seungmin said, paying the driver as Ami and Hae-eun got out. He joined them on the sidewalk and headed into the hospital.

“Can I help you?” one of the triage nurses asked, smiling up at him. “Hi,” Seungmin said softly, leaning against the counter. “Our friend was brought in. A Dr. Kim was with her. She had a head injury and was picked up just off Gangnam Boulevard,” he explained.

“What’s your friend’s name?” she asked, typing on her computer. “Y/N,” Seungmin replied quickly.

“Last name?” she asked, looking up at him. Seungmin hesitated. He didn’t know your last name. “Y/L/N,” Hae-eun interjected, stepping forward. She rattled off the rest of your information as Seungmin fell silent. He hadn’t even known your last name.

How didn’t he know something as simple as that? It started to dawn on him just how little he truly knew about you. “She’s still being looked at,” the nurse said as she looked at her screen. “Dr. Kim ordered an MRI and CT scan. If you want to wait, you’re welcome to wait here and I’ll make sure someone comes and informs you of her condition as soon as there’s an update.”

Hae-eun thanked the nurse and returned to Ami, the two leading the way over to an empty corner, taking a seat on the small sofa while Seungmin sat in one of the armchairs. He didn’t look at either of your friends, instead trying to focus on keeping himself from going back to the club.

He wasn’t sure how much time went by but Hae-eun looked up and tapped Ami’s arm prompting Seungmin to also look up, seeing Wonpil walking over. Seungmin got up quickly as did Hae-eun. “How is she?” Ami asked, looking up from her seat.

“She’s okay,” Wonpil answered. “She didn’t need stitches,” he confirmed, looking at Seungmin who was relieved. “It was a lot of blood but the cut was very shallow and shouldn’t scar.” Seungmin let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “As for the trauma to her head,” he continued.

“Nothing on her scans indicate any serious trauma to her brain. Maybe a little bit of rattling, but there’s no bleeding in her brain which is a good sign,” he explained, addressing Ami and Hae-eun. “We will keep her overnight for observation. Nurses will wake her up every hour to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion,” he continued.

“Can we go see her?” Ami asked and Wonpil nodded, smiling. “Yes, of course,” he answered. “I’ll take you back there now,” he added. Seungmin brought up the rear as Wonpil walked your friends back into the ER. “Visiting hours end soon,” Wonpil said softly as he stopped by a door,

“But I’ll extend them just a bit for you,” he added, gesturing to the open door. Ami and Hae-eun entered, pushing the curtain aside as they entered. Wonpil stopped Seungmin before he could follow. “Tell me you didn’t do anything to him,” Wonpil said under his breath.

Seungmin looked up at this friend. “No,” he replied. “Well, I may have punched him.” Wonpil raised a brow. “Did his head stay on?” Seungmin snorted. “Unfortunately,” he replied. Wonpil held back a laugh. “I know he did something wrong but don’t go causing trouble,” Wonpil warned.

“Let the consequences of his actions catch up with him.”

Seungmin said nothing, nodding silently as Wonpil lowered his hand. “She’s a little more lucid,” he added. Seungmin thanked his friend and entered the room. Seeing you lying in the bed made his non-beating heart sink into his stomach. 

He hated seeing you in such a state and it further fueled the fire in his being to go back to the club and deal with the man who had the audacity to put his hands on you. To say the things he did. To hurt you. Seungmin heard it all.

After the man had gotten up and followed you, Seungmin had gotten up, following both of you at a distance. He heard the entire exchange. The way you stood your ground, the way the man degraded you, calling you names before he acted.

It took every ounce of his strength to not tear the man apart, limb from limb when he entered that bathroom. Seeing his hands on you, how he had you pinned to the sink. The shatter mirror, the cracks spreading from the source of impact. Your head.

He should have killed the creep then and there but he was driven by a desire to make sure you were okay first. To get you to safety and assess your condition. He could always go back. And he would go back.

“Y/N, oh my god!” Ami said, rushing to your side as Hae-eun followed. Seungmin hung back as Wonpil entered the room, hands in his pockets. “She’s a very pretty woman,” Wonpil said under his breath. Seungmin nodded. “She’s more remarkable than she looks,” he replied.

Wonpil nodded, silence falling over the two.

“You can’t keep seeing her if you plan to leave,” Wonpil said finally and Seungmin nodded again. “I know,” he said softly. “I’ve thought about it over and over,” he added. “It’ll just hurt her and I can't do that to her.”

Wonpill nodded, turning his head towards Seungmin. “So don’t keep doing this. Don’t follow her to clubs,” he continued. Seungmin looked at him. “This was a one time thing,” he whispered. “I’ve never followed her before,” he clarified.

Wonpil nodded. “Good,” he said softly. Seungmin watched as Wonpil stepped forward. “I’m sorry ladies,” he said, addressing Ami and Hae-eun. “But Y/N needs rest. She’ll be released tomorrow so long as she’s cleared,” he added. Ami and Hae-eun nodded and looked back at you.

“Sorry I ruined your birthday,” you said to Ami who laughed, gently squeezing your hand. “It’s okay,” she replied. “You didn’t ruin it,” she added. “We’ll come see you tomorrow,” Hae-eun said, looking at Wonpil who nodded with a smile. “Of course,” he said, gesturing towards the door.

“Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Ami said as she and Hae-eun said goodbye and started to move towards the door, passing in front of Seungmin. When they were past him, Seungmin caught your eye and offered a smile before turning to head for the door.

“Actually, could I have a moment alone with Seungmin?” you asked Wonpil who glanced at his friend before looking back at you. “Of course,” he said. “Just a couple minutes,” he added before leaving the room. Seungmin turned back to face you.

“Could you come here please?” you asked, trying to push yourself up. Seungmin hurried to your side, grabbing the bed controls. “Use this,” he said, placing it in your hand. “Thanks,” you said, pressing the button to raise the head of the bed.

Seungmin sat carefully on the edge of your bed, keeping his eyes on your face. “I--” your voice cracked as you tried to say something. You tried again. Seungmin could see you fighting the urge to cry. “I wanted to thank you for saving me,” you said softly. Seungmin glanced down at your hand, wondering whether he should take hold of it or not.

He lost the fight with his inner self and took your hand gently and carefully. His ears picked up how the heart monitor beeped a little faster. It wasn’t much but it was enough for you to avoid his glaze for a moment. “Damn machine,” you said softly.

“Giving me away.”

Seungmin fought the urge to smile. He’d already known how he affected you. He could hear your heart without the monitor. He could hear the way the tempo danced whenever he got closer or whenever you held his hand or leaned into him.

He was sure his would be doing the same if it weren’t dead.

“Damn machine,” he repeated, making you chuckle.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I thanked you for saving me,” you started. “But how did you know where I was?” you asked. Seungmin smiled, looking down at your hand in his. “When you said you were going out with some friends, I decided to do the same and asked Wonpil to come out with me. I didn’t expect us to end up at the same club,” he admitted.

You looked up at him as he spoke. “But I saw you while I was talking to Wonpil and I saw that guy,” he continued, his expression shifting to anger as he recalled the way the man had grabbed your arm. “And I saw the way you defended yourself. But then you went to the bathroom alone and then I saw him follow and I just felt like something was wrong,” he added.

“So I followed you to the bathrooms. I got close enough, and then I heard you pleading,” Seungmin said, keeping his voice as even as possible. “So you broke down the door?” you asked, watching his face. He nodded. “How?” you asked, and Seungmin looked down at you. “How what?”

“How did you break down the door?” you asked, looking genuinely curious. “I kicked it in,” he admitted. You stared at him for a few minutes before speaking. “But it’s a metal door,” you replied. Seungmin shrugged. “I probably had adrenaline pumping,” he replied. “You can do incredible things on adrenaline,” he added.

You stared at him, eyes searching his face. For the first time since meeting you, Seungmin couldn’t tell if you were scared of him or not. “That’s one hell of an adrenaline rush,” you finally said and Seungmin laughed, nodding. “Yeah,” he said softly. He placed your hand on your stomach.

“I should probably go so you can rest,” he said, standing up. The way you looked up at him had him feeling like he couldn’t just leave without a proper goodbye. Against his better judgment, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, he met your gaze and before he could stop you, you grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him down and Seungmin felt on fire as your lips met for the first time. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone. It had been ages but yet he didn’t seem to be any worse for it.

Your lips parted and Seungmin could hear via both the heart monitor and the pounding of your heart as his tongue slipped into your mouth. It was embarrassing how easily a kiss riled him up but he could smell how it affected you as well. He pulled back even though the man inside him wanted more. He rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry our first kiss was while you were lying in a hospital bed,” he said, a hint of amusement to his voice. You giggled, looking up at him as he pulled back. “Thank you again,” you said softly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. Seungmin’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over and pulling your bottom lip free before he leaned in, kissing you again.

“Get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll come see you tomorrow,” he added as he stood up. “You promise?” you called as he walked towards the door, he turned back and smiled, nodding. “But after you get out of the hospital,” he added as the door opened and Wonpil appeared.

“Goodnight Y/N,” Seungmin said before following Wonpil out of the room as he heard you call out.

“See you around!”

Seungmin chuckled to himself as Wonpil shut the door and rounded on him. “I told you to leave her alone,” he hissed as the pair headed for the exit. “The entire nurses station could hear her heart monitor!” Seungmin laughed a little louder as they reached the door.

“I’m serious,” Wonpil added, trying not to laugh as Seungmin came to a halt by the doors leading out to the lobby. “If you plan on leaving, don’t get involved with her.” Seungmin nodded, forcing his laughter down. “And go home,” he added.

It was clear what Wonpil was insinuating but there was no way Seungmin was going to let the creep get away with what he’d just done. Especially not to you. “The world won’t miss him,” he replied under his breath. “I’m simply taking out the trash.”

Wonpil glanced up at him before looking around. “Fine,” he said definitively. “Just make it look like an accident and be careful.” Seungmin didn’t need telling twice. He nodded once and said goodbye to his friend before exiting to the lobby. If he was going to do this, he needed to get back to the club.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the club and by the time he got there, the club had closed with the patrons spilling out into the street, calling for taxis and other transportation home. Seungmin hid amongst the crowd, keeping his eye out until he finally spotted him.

‘Found you.’

It had not been a good night for Darren. From having water splashed in his face and poured on his shoes, being assaulted in the bathroom and not managing to find anyone else to come home with him, he left the club dejectedly and started the walk home. He was fortunate that his apartment building was a few blocks away.

As he started to walk away from the crowd, he glanced around to get an idea of his surroundings and who might be walking the same direction as him. He continued on, one foot in front of the other as he walked further from the busy boulevard and down side streets and alleys.

He stopped in his tracks as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and turned, looking behind him, scanning the area. He saw nothing, indicating he was alone, but he didn’t feel alone. He shook the feeling off and turned back around to continue on. 

He’d only gone a few more steps when he felt it again. The feeling of being watched. He turned back around, hands balling into fists as he stood his ground against his shadowy follower. He squinted, looking into the dark crevices. Inspecting the best he could from a distance.

Nothing moved. There were no sounds. No crickets, no rats or other critters squeaking or chittering. There was no sound of fans or air conditioning units. Nothing. It was as if someone hit mute on everything. There was no sound of vehicles passing on the larger streets nearby.

He shook the creeping feeling across his skin and continued on his way again. He wasn’t going to let some paranoid feeling get the best of him. Picking up the pace, he continued walking, hoping to get out of this neighborhood soon and into the one where he lived. Where he felt safe.

He heard the sound of footsteps and the scraping of metal against concrete, like a can had been kicked. He spun around but was met once again with an empty alleyway. The various steps and stoops up to the front doors were empty. Not even a cat waiting to be let in for the night.

There was nothing. Just him and the alley.

Darren quickened his pace yet again, practically jogging now as he tried to navigate his way out of this alley and back onto a major street. He could hear footsteps against pavement and broke into a run, noticing the end of the alley drawing closer and soon he was back on the main street with other people. He stopped, glancing back into the alley where he swore he saw a pair of glowing red eyes.

This spooked him enough to light a fire under him and he hurried back to his building, ignoring the looks from strangers around him as he pushed past them without so much as an ‘excuse me’ or apology. He reached his building, a high rise with a doorman who greeted him, opening the door for him.

Once in the elevator, Darren felt much better. Safer even. The ride up to the nineteenth floor didn’t take long and soon he was putting in the code for his apartment, letting himself in and shutting the door quickly behind him, locking it and taking a few deep breaths.

He’d managed to make it home and he felt infinitely better in his familiar surroundings. He started to settle, removing his shoes before stepping up onto the floor and going about his usual routine. He moved into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water and drinking it slowly as he thought about the events of the night.

Namely the man who came into the bathroom to rescue the woman who had splashed water in his face.

He’d never seen anything like it. The way the door was kicked in, almost like it had been blown in by a battering ram and then the way he stormed in. He moved so fast, Darren had no chance to react before he felt the man’s fist collide with his jaw. “Bastard,” he said softly as he reached up to massage the sore spot on his face. He knew it was going to bruise.

Darren finished his water before setting the empty glass in the sink and heading to the back of his apartment, towards his bedroom and bathroom. Inside the bathroom, he turned on the water, making it as hot as he could stand. Something to relax his tense muscles before bed.

He stripped, dropping his clothes in the hamper and stepped under the stream, closing the glass door behind him. The hot water beat down on him, steaming up the glass surfaces and obscuring his vision of the rest of the bathroom.

A sudden gust of cold wind hit him and he froze, looking away from the shower and quickly wiped the glass, squinting out into the bathroom and trying to see beyond the open bathroom door to his bedroom. He saw nothing and quickly opened the door, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

He stepped out of the shower, and started into the bedroom, the cool breeze still hitting him. Once inside his room he noticed that one of his windows was open. ‘What the hell?’

He hurried over and pulled it shut, latching the lock and looking outside to the city below. ‘How in the hell could that have opened?’ he wondered. He took a good look around the room but found nothing amiss. Nothing had been moved, nor did he see any sign of intruders.

Deciding he needed to just sleep it off, he headed back into the bathroom to finish his shower so he could go to bed. He hung the towel back up, stepping back into the glass case and shutting the door. He heard a scraping behind him against the glass and spun around.

There was nothing there. He turned to the door but again saw nothing. He turned the water off and shook his head. ‘You’re seeing things,’ he told himself and chuckled. “Man, you really need sleep.”

He turned to open the door and froze. Out of his periphery on the left side he could see a dark shadow. A figure. He turned to look at it, terror filling his veins as the figure didn’t disappear when he looked at it. Standing firmly beyond the glass was a dark shape, it was vaguely human.

“W-who are you?” he stammered, frozen in place. Darren could hear a faint buzzing and the light overhead started to flicker. He looked up at it quickly and then back but the shadow was gone. He turned back to the door and then everything happened in slow motion. 

He was confronted with a nightmarish creature. Black and red eyes, a grotesque pale face with a bat-like nose. The teeth. Each one was sharp and pointed and the creature's mouth was full of them.

It snarled and roared at him, causing him to jump and take a step back. Darren slipped, falling back in slow motion. His head collided with the tiled wall behind him, a sharp and intense pain spreading from the point of impact as he slid down the wall and onto the floor of the shower.

The creature, which had been hanging upside down, dropped to the floor, features shifting as it moved closer and knelt down, clicking its tongue as it did so.

“Tsk, tsk,” it said in the voice of a man. Darren looked up, his vision swimming in and out of focus. “You know, you really should have an anti slip mat in these things,” the creature turned man said and as his face came into focus, Darren’s eyes widened. “Y-you!” he stammered.

The man from before looked down at him coldly. His irises red as he glared. “I had told you I’d rip your fingers off one by one,” he said as he looked down at him. “But watching you hit your head and slowly succumb to the trauma is so much more satisfying,” he said, his voice full of malice.

“You can’t do this-” Darren choked out, fear taking over him as the man reached a hand down slowly. “Yes,” he replied. “I can and I will.” Darren felt the man’s fingers curl into his hair, picking his head up off the tiled floor before he gave him a cruel smile.

“I’ll teach you a lesson,” he hissed before slamming Darren’s head against the floor. As the man stood up, everything started to go black. “Wash this up,” the man said, turning on the shower, the water raining down on Darren’s body as his life ebbed away from him.

“Be glad I’ve given you this death. You deserve much worse.”

As his vision went black, the last thing Darren saw was the back of the man exiting his bathroom.

“In other news, authorities have said in a strange twist of events, a suspect in a serial rapist they’ve been trying to track down has died in an accident in his apartment. The suspect slipped and fell in the shower, hitting his head and dying from the trauma. Now let’s look at the weather.”

Seungmin looked up as Wonpil turned the television off. “I told you not to get involved,” Wonpil hissed as Seungmin sat perfectly still, staring back at him. “He slipped and fell,” Seungmin stated. “I didn’t touch him.” Wonpil narrowed his eyes.

“I guess his karma caught up to him,” Seungmin added, looking away from Wonpil.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It looks like an accident,” Seungmin added. Wonpil shook his head. “You don’t get to play judge, jury, and executioner,” he stated. “We’re not supposed to get involved in these things. Let them sort it out.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes at Wonpil. “Let them sort it out? So you’re saying I should have let him force himself on Y/N?” Seungmin asked incredulously. “No!” Wonpil, sounding exasperated. “I didn’t say that! I just meant that this is what happens when you get involved.”

Seungmin scoffed, getting up from the sofa. “So, it’s my fault?”

Wonpil gestured to the tv. “A man is dead!” he replied. “A man who had assaulted many. A serial rapist,” Seungmin argued. “Or did you just ignore that part?” Wonpil glared at him, huffing angrily as his pager started to beep. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen.

“I gotta go. Hospital needs me,” he said, getting up and grabbing his wallet. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” Wonpil said as he headed for the door. “Oh, and one more thing,” he continued, turning back to look at Seungmin. “Stay away from Y/N.”

Seungmin glared at the door as Wonpil disappeared. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished the device out, seeing he had a text from you. 

Y/N: you said you’d come and see me after i got released but you haven’t come ):

Seungmin chuckled, quickly typing out a response. He’d finally gotten the hang of having a phone and had no problems sending texts anymore though he still occasionally signed them off before erasing them, remembering they weren’t emails.

Seungmin: sorry. It’s been kind of hectic on this end. I do want to see you (:

Your response was swift.

Y/N: how about dinner tonight? My place? I’ll cook for you (:

Seungmin stared at the screen. Dinner? At your place? Alone? He hesitated. Could he resist the urge? The urge to want to be with you? To want you in every possible way he could have you? He knew if he gave in to that urge, there was no way he could leave you. He’d be tied to you in some way.

Against his better judgment, Seungmin responded.

Seungmin: sounds good. Seven o’clock?

Y/N: seven o’clock sounds perfect. I’ll see you soon (;

Seungmin chuckled at the winking face you’d sent as he locked and placed his phone in his pocket, checking the time on his watch. He had about an hour to get ready and head to your place. He wrote a note for Wonpil, letting him know that he wasn’t going to listen and that he was going to give in for once before grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

The walk back to his place took half an hour as he had to weave between busy pedestrians without drawing attention. He raced to his apartment as soon as the elevator doors opened and once he was inside, he changed at top speed, rushing through the apartment.

Once he was ready, he headed back down and had about twenty minutes to get to your place before seven. He stopped on the way, grabbing a bottle of wine and a small bouquet of flowers. Nothing overly fancy. More of an “I’m thinking of you and hope you’re well,” kind of thing.

He arrived at your building with five minutes to spare, taking the buttonless elevator up to your floor. He watched as the counter stopped on the twentieth floor and he got off, heading to the unit number you’d instructed. Standing outside 2091, he felt like an idiot but he knocked regardless.

It took only a few moments for you to answer the door, opening it with a smile on your face as you greeted him. “Hey, come on in,” you said softly and stood aside to let him in. Seungmin stepped over the threshold. The notion that a vampire could not enter unless invited was garbage but he liked that you still invited him in.

“These are for you,” he said, handing the flowers over. You smiled, taking them with a thank you. “They’re lovely,” you added as you headed into the kitchen. Seungmin slipped off his shoes and followed you, glancing around your studio apartment. 

It was every bit uniquely you as you had described it to him. You had taken a singular space and turned it into three. The bedroom area was closed off by a hanging curtain and cubby shelves. The plants and string lights made it feel cozy and magical. Almost like a forest.

You’d turned the space near the door leading to the balcony into your living room, sectioning the space off but it didn’t feel cut off. Everything flowed nicely. The last space was against the wall on the other side of the living space. A small dining table and three chairs stood, all bar height.

Seungmin turned to you as you placed the flowers in an empty vase, setting the vase aside and turning to him. “Wine as well?” you asked, nodding at the bottle in his hand. He handed it over and you turned to your fridge, placing the bottle inside.

“I didn’t want to show up empty handed,” he answered. You turned back to him before moving to the kitchen counter. “So,” Seungmin said, moving to stand beside you. “What are you making?” he asked. “A stirfry,” you answered simply, cutting the vegetables.

“For me anyway,” you replied. Seungmin looked up at you, meeting your gaze.

“You don’t eat,” you said plainly. Seungmin was certain if his heart was alive, it would be pounding. Were you onto him? He broke into a smile, laughing. “What are you talking about?” he asked, chuckling. You moved to open the cabinet.

You pulled out a wine glass. “Do you want one?” you asked, looking at him. “For the sake of appearances?” Seungmin’s smile fell. “What are you talking about?” he asked as you moved to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of your own wine and pouring yourself a glass.

“Are you a vampire?”

Your question caught him completely off guard, knocking the wind out of him as he processed what you’d just asked. Had he imagined the whole thing? He didn’t even notice you pour another glass of wine and push it towards him.

You had asked him so nonchalantly. Like you were asking about his job or the weather.

‘Are you a vampire?’ Your voice echoed in his head. How was he supposed to answer? Did he lie and laugh it off? Did you already know for certain? Would denying it just make you mad and push you further away? That was the last thing he wanted.

“Well,” you said suddenly, pulling Seungmin from his thoughts. “Are you?”

He looked from your questioning gaze to the glass of wine sitting in front of him. He grabbed it, swirling the red liquid as he carefully thought about his answer. He wondered when you pieced it all together. Was it when he’d saved you from the creep in the club bathroom? Or perhaps it was before then. Had you known since the moment you met him when he was contemplating throwing himself from the cliff?

But if so, how could you have known? In all his years, he’s never met another person who deduced his true nature who wasn’t already a supernatural being themselves. Maybe he had you all wrong? Was there more to you than met even his eyes?

“Am I what?” he finally spoke, looking up from the crimson wine, through his lashes to meet your gaze.

“A vampire?”

Seungmin held his breath, staring you down. Normally when he made eye contact like this, everyone would shy away from his intense gaze, everyone except you it would seem. You held his gaze, staring back almost challengingly. “What makes you think that?” Seungmin asked softly, still staring back at you.

“Just a hunch, I guess,” you replied, looking away from his eyes momentarily to take a sip of your wine before glancing back up again. “I thought about it when I first saw you,” you explained. “You looked so… tormented and lonely.” Seungmin continued to hold his breath as you spoke.

“Not to mention those stories you told me when we first met on the cliff that day. So much history. So many tales,” you continued, a small smile appearing on your lips. “And then when you seemingly knew where I was at the club when that… man--”

“Monster,” Seungmin interrupted, catching you off guard as you looked back up in shock.

“That wasn’t a man,” Seungmin continued. “That was a monster.”

You tilted your head curiously. “If he’s a monster, what does that make you?” you asked softly, setting  your glass on the granite counter. Seungmin let out a dark chuckle. “Never said I wasn’t one, too, sweetheart,” he countered, taking another sip of his wine, watching the line settle as he set the glass on the counter as well, looking up to meet your gaze.

He tried to discern the emotion behind the look you were giving him now. He thought perhaps by now your flight or fight response would have kicked in but alas, you were looking at him more out of concern than fear. Were you concerned about what he could do to you? Or were you concerned for him?

“You know,” Seungmin said, chuckling as the notion crossed his mind. “I’m not a mind-reader,” he added. “I’d like to know what’s going on in your head.” He waited while you gathered your thoughts, waiting for you to say something. To say anything.

“Did you kill him?” you asked suddenly, catching him completely off guard. “What?” he whispered.

You tilted your head to the side, still maintaining eye contact with him, like you weren’t staring a predator in the face. “Did you kill him? The man from the club, the one you said is a monster.”

Seungmin hesitated. It seemed you’d already made up your mind about the nature of his being yet neither of you commented on it. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to,” he answered finally, lifting his glass but hesitating when you spoke, the glass barely touching his lips.

“Spare me the evasive act. I’m not an idiot,  Seungmin. I know danger when I see it. Everything in my body is telling me you’re dangerous just like that man. The only difference is that the danger I felt with him is learned. The danger I feel from you is primal. It’s ingrained in my brain. Hardwired because you aren’t human. You’re something more.”

Seungmin looked past the glass at your slightly distorted figure before lowering the glass to peer at you over the rim. “Then why did you invite me here?” he asked before downing the rest of his wine, setting the glass aside and getting to his feet.

You watched as he slowly stalked around the kitchen island towards you. His eyes locked on you as he moved, you felt suddenly like prey caught in the gaze of a predator and for the first time since you met him, you felt like you were truly in danger. 

You were certain Seungmin was a vampire. You knew he was more than a simple man. The way he carried himself and sometimes spoke was like he was pulled straight from one of Jane Austen’s novels. He was from a different time period and although his face didn’t show his age, his eyes certainly did.

He may look like a man in his mid twenties but his eyes were that of a being that had seen hundreds of years. You watched as he approached, closing in on you, backing you up against the wall behind you. Your back met the hard surface as he rested his hands against the wall on either side of your head, eyes inspecting your face as he leaned closer.

Your breathing had sped up, heart racing as he approached, eyes fixated on you as if he was about to pounce and deliver a killing blow. Your eyes flickered between his, noticing up close how red they were. Not the sclera. His irises were a deep blood red. From a distance, you’d assumed they were brown but now you saw the true color and your mind was made up for you.

Seungmin was a vampire, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind.

Seungmin’s eyes scanned your face, from your eyes, down to your lips before they dipped down to your neck and then back up to meet your gaze.

“I can hear your heart racing,” he said softly, his voice barely audible of the ticking of the clock hanging above your head. He tilted his head to the side, a smirk forming on his lips. “I’m fine,” you whispered. Seungmin chuckled. “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he replied.

One of his hands moved, fingers brushing against the skin of your neck, just over your pulse point. An involuntary shiver ran up your spine. “Why are you shaking?” he asked, leaning closer, his lips mere inches from yours as his eyes searched yours. “You’re not scared of me are you, little rabbit?”

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered, knowing your soft voice was giving you away. Seungmin’s hand slipped behind your head, fingers pulling at the hair at the base of your neck. “Don’t lie to me, pet,” he retorted, eyes scanning your face, dipping down to your throat and back up. Had you not been watching, you would have missed the way he licked his lips and swallowed.

“Does it bother you?” you asked softly, drawing his attention. “Hmm?” he hummed in response. “Being so close to a source,” you continued. Seungmin narrowed his eyes, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “A source? Of what?” he asked, knowing what you were about to say.

“Blood.”

Seungmin froze, staring at you. Before he had a chance to answer, to defend his secret, you spoke again.

“I told you I’m not an idiot, Seungmin,” you said. 

He pulled back slowly to look in your eyes. You could see the color had shifted to red. Just like that night outside the club. That was when you truly knew what you were up against. What kind of danger you were in every time you saw him. Every time you leaned in to kiss him goodnight.

At any point, he could have snapped and killed you, drained you of your blood but you wanted to know why he didn’t. Why didn’t he eat people? ‘What a weird question to contemplate,’ you told yourself.

“But I do have a question,” you whispered. Seungmin hesitated, waiting for your query.

You licked your lips before speaking. “Why don’t you feed from humans?” you asked before realizing you had made an assumption. Perhaps he did feed from humans. “Sorry.” you said quickly. “I’m making assumptions.” Seungmin smiled and shook his head. “It’s quite alright,” he replied.

“Your assumption is right. I don’t feed from humans. I don’t even feed from animals. Not directly anyway,” he replied. “What do you feed from?” you asked softly. “Blood bags,” Seungmin admitted. “It’s a more lowkey way to feed,” he explained.

“Where do you get them?” you asked softly, watching as he tilted his head to the side, studying you. He was hoping you’d do the math and figure it out and as you wracked your brain it hit you.

His friend. “Wonpil,” you whispered. You met his gaze. “Is he a vampire, too?” you asked. Seungmin hesitated but eventually nodded his head. “Yes,” he replied. “He gets the blood bags for me. It really pays off, having a doctor friend,” he added. You shook your head in disbelief.

“How does he do what he does?” you asked. “With all the blood,” you continued. Seungmin smiled and nodded. “Sounds very Twilight of him,” he noted. “Doesn’t it?” Chuckling again when you nodded, Seungmin continued to explain.

“He used to be a doctor. In fact, he was a highly sought after royal doctor back in the day,” he continued. “And then in the army, he was a combat medic. That’s how we met,” he added. “On the battlefield. My squad took heavy fire and he was sent in to assess and do what he could but when he saw I was completely unharmed, he knew immediately what I was and I knew what he was.”

You stared back at him as he explained more of his background. “We’ve been friends ever since. He’s the only person I’ve ever leaned on or trusted,” he continued, before glancing down at you. “Until now at least,” he added, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“You trust me?” you asked softly. Seungmin nodded. “I do,” he replied, eyes dipping to your lips and back up. “Do you trust me?” he asked. You hesitated only for a moment before nodding. “Yes,” you answered, bringing your hand up to place over his. “I trust you.”

Seungmin closed the distance, kissing you passionately as he pinned you against the wall. You moaned into his mouth as he grinded against you, eagerly swallowing the sounds you made under his touch. “Tell me you want this,” he said softly, resting his forehead against yours as you panted heavily.

“Tell me you want me,” he continued. You moved one of your hands up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. “I want this,” you replied. “I want you.” Seungmin let out a small growl, grabbing your hips and pulling you away from the wall, guiding you over to the kitchen island.

You let out a squeak of surprise as Seungmin easily lifted you, turning and depositing you on the counter. “If I was more patient, I’d make you run,” he murmured, leaning in, his lips inches from yours, nose gently bumping yours. “If I was more patient, I’d take my time with you,” he continued, his hands moving down to the hem of your sweater, fingers gently toying with the material.

“Then why don’t you?” you asked, eyes searching his. He smiled in response, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his fangs. “Because I’m not a patient man,” he answered before pulling back and lifting your sweater, tossing it aside. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue slipping past your parted lips.

You let out a whine as you felt one of his fangs graze against your bottom lip. “Are you going to feed from me?” you whispered when he broke the kiss. Seungmin chuckled, hands moving down to your jeans, undoing the button and zipper. “No,” he replied. “Not unless you want me to,” he added, tugging your pants down past your hips. You lifted your butt to make it easier for him.

Your jeans joined your sweater on the floor, leaving you in your underwear. The granite countertop was cold against your skin as Seungmin peppered kisses along your collar. “Will that kill me?” you whispered, heart racing as he kissed down your sternum, pushing you onto your back as he continued kissing down your stomach. “No,” he said with another amused tone.

“I’m not going to puncture your jugular,” he added. “I don’t feed from that high,” he added. “Not unless I’m trying to kill you.” You swallowed thickly as he continued to kiss down, his lips meeting the hem of your panties. “May I?” he asked softly, raising his head to make eye contact. You nodded wordlessly, watching as he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, discarding them along with the rest of your clothes.

“Seungmin,” you breathed out as his lips trailed down the inside of your thigh. “Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his head slightly. “I want you to feed from me,” you murmured, cheeks burning as his gaze bore into yours. “Are you sure, doe?” he asked, tilting his head. You nodded silently, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth.

You watched as he lowered his head, nipping at the skin of your inner thigh. You let out a gasp at the sensation. “Wait,” you said suddenly, propping yourself up on your elbows. “This isn’t gonna turn me into a vampire, right?” you asked. Seungmin chuckled again.

“No,” he answered. “You would have to feed from me to become like me,” he added. Your eyes widened at the thought. “Feed from you?” you asked, to which he nodded. Your head fell back as you felt his tongue against the skin of your thigh. “Just don’t kill me, please,” you mumbled.

Seungmin chuckled to himself before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh.

You let out a cry of pain, followed by a gasp as you felt his thumb brush over your clit. “Oh shit,” you groaned. You could feel blood leaving your body through the wound to your thigh. It was almost like having someone sucking a hickey but more intense.

“I knew you would taste so sweet,” you heard him groan. “Seungmin,” you started, lifting your head but letting out a moan, head falling back as you felt his tongue against your clit, his fingers toying with your slit. “Oh fucking hell,” you gasped as he teased the nub with the tip of his tongue.

“M’gonna cum,” you moaned, thighs shaking as your high approached only for Seungmin to pull away. “Not yet,” he purred, his breath hot against your sex. “You’ll cum when I let you,” he added. As your orgasm slipped away, you felt his fingers ease into your entrance slowly, two at a time.

He set a steady pace, watching the way his fingers disappeared into your tight heat. “I can’t wait to fill you up,” he said softly, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Please,” you moaned as he sped up slowly. Your orgasm was just out of your reach.

It was beginning to get frustrating. After weeks of nothing from him. Weeks of wanting this man, you finally had him and you were even more frustrated that your orgasm was evading you. Each time he toyed with your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but not enough for you to topple over it.

“Seungmin,” you begged. “Please fuck me.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he said as he pulled away, licking his fingers clean. You pushed yourself up as Seungmin shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. You pulled him into a kiss, his hands fumbling with his buckled and zipper, undoing his pants and pushing them down.

You moaned as he pushed into you easily, your walls stretching to accommodate the intrusion. “Shh,” he hushed you, smoothing your hair and cupping your cheek. “Look at me,” he said softly. You looked up at him, meeting his blood red gaze.

“That’s it,” he cooed, pulling back and giving you a shallow thrust. “F-fffuuuck,” you groaned as he set a steady pace, cock dragging against your walls with each push and pull. “Seungmin,” you whined as he held you up. “Feel’s so good,” you groaned, moving your hips to meet his.

“Shit,” you heard him hiss. “That,” he instructed. “Keep doing that, sweetheart,” he groaned, thrusting harder, the sound of skin hitting skin being the only thing to fill the space. “I need to cum,” you whined, unshed tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“And you will,” Seungmin replied. “But only when I say so.”

“How’s the bite?” you asked suddenly. Seungmin glanced down at your thigh. The bleed had stopped already. “It’s fine,” he huffed. “Don’t worry about it,” he added. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head towards your neck.

“Y/N,” he warned. “Please,” you breathed. “Please Seungmin.”

Something Seungmin prided himself on was his unfaltering and unwavering quality. His ability to put his foot down and say no but he was finding it harder and harder to say no to you. He sighed, groaning as your walls gripped him tightly.

“Fine,” he said softly, lips brushing against your skin. “But just a small one,” he replied before sinking his teeth into the base of your neck. You let out a moan, walls clenching around him, fingers tightening in his hair. “Oh shit,” you cursed. “Fuck me,” you groaned.

Seungmin pulled back, lips tainted red from your blood. “I already am,” he joked before rolling his tongue over the bite wound to your neck. The taste of you on his tongue he pulled back, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

You could taste iron on his tongue. Blood. Your blood.

You moaned into the kiss, nails scratching against his skin.

Seungmin pulled away, returning to your neck, licking at the wound. “I’m not gonna bleed out, right?” you asked weakly, your orgasm slipping away for the nth time as Seungmin slowed his movements. “You’ll be fine,” Seungmin murmured, still occasionally licking at the bite on your neck. “It’s almost done bleeding. It’s coagulating,” he added.

“F-fuck,” you hissed. Seungmin chuckled, giving you a sharp thrust. “And you p-promise I’m not gonna -hng- bleed out?” you asked, a moan slipping out between your words. Seungmin nodded, his free hand cupping the back of your neck. “I promise,” he replied. “You’ve already stopped bleeding,” he added.

You opened your mouth to respond, only moaning as his hips set a steady, even pace. M’so close,” you whined, head falling forward, your forehead resting against his. “Already?” he teased. “Before I’ve even properly fucked you?” You whined in response, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“My bad,” he joked. “I might have gone a little overboard earlier,” he added, placing his hand against the counter, his hips hitting yours with each thrust. Your vision blurred, tears filling as the tension in your body built up again. One hand tangled in his hair, the other reaching around to hold onto his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck. “M’ gonna-” your words failed as your orgasm crashed over you unexpectedly.

“That really was quick,” Seungmin chuckled as he helped you ride it out. As you fell limp in his hold, he pulled out of you, carefully guiding you down off the counter before turning you to face it, pushing you over as he guided himself back inside your tight heat.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said, taking both hips in his hands and setting a punishing pace, making you cry out, the tears in your eyes finally falling. “Are you crying?” he asked breathlessly. “Does it feel that good?” he mused.

You were unable to speak and respond to his question, instead answering only in jumbled words, moans, and chants of his name. Seungmin’s hand moved up to your shoulder, pulling your back up as he leaned over, lips next to your ear. “Crying only makes me want to ruin you more,” he said, his tone dark. “It’s not gonna make me go easy on you.”

You cried out as his thrusts increased, hips hitting your ass repeatedly with the same slapping sound.

The sounds of your cries only spurred him on, your sniffles and sobs fueling his desire to wreck you. “Almost,” he groaned, his own orgasm approaching. “Fuck, m’close,” he announced. “Where you want it?” he asked. You lifted your head weakly. “I-inside me,” you moaned.

Seungmin groaned, hips stuttering. “You sure?” he asked and you nodded. “Give it to me,” you whimpered. “Cum inside me, Seungmin, please.” 

That was all he needed to hear, groaning into your ear as he released inside you, painting your insides with cum. “Oh shit,” he cursed, hips slowing as he fucked his release further into you. “Oh god,” you  groaned, feeling his cum fill your cunt as he pulled your back against his chest.

“That’s it, little rabbit,” he grunted. “Take all of it.”

His hips stilled and you whined, falling limp in his hold. Seungmin leaned over, one arm around your chest, the other holding the both of you up over the countertop. “Shit,” you heard him hiss. “You’re going to need a shower,” he said softly.

You whimpered as he pulled out of you. “Or we both might need one,” he corrected. You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Are you staying?” you asked, looking at him with those expectant eyes. How could he ever think to leave.

He’d spent most of his immortal life jumping from identity to identity. He’d grown bored and weary of that life and now he had the chance to do something new and exciting. He smiled at you and nodded. Sure, you assumed he meant he was staying the night but deep down, he was agreeing to stay for the foreseeable future.

And who knows. Maybe, just maybe he’ll stay for eternity if that means he gets an eternity with you.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Coach Beard has a secret Traitors Club. It consists of himself, Nate and Jamie, ie people who have (at least in the opinion of one Willis Beard) betrayed Ted Lasso – but who have also learned the error of their ways through the goodness of Ted’s gentle heart.

(Yes, yes, you might argue that Jamie’s insulting remarks about Ted in 1x10 is a reasonable reaction to what, from Jamie’s POV, looks like Ted unreasonably dumping him, but a, I’m not sure that Beard knows that, and b, I’m not sure that Beard cares about that. You might also argue that Nate and Jamie have both learned a lot of stuff from people other than Ted, but: see the a and b of the previous sentence. And anyway, this is Beard’s club and you don’t get a say in his absurd selection criteria.)

Beard doesn’t inform anyone of the club’s existence. That includes the other members, Nate and Jamie, who just suddenly finds themselves regularly invited out for drinks with the most mysterious man either of them have ever met.

There are a lot of weird but oddly good talks about feelings. There are silences neither Jamie nor Nate know what to do with. And then there’s the football strategy chatter, which unites them all in a wild and eager frenzy, and an unexpected but pleasant sense of shared understanding.

Nate think it’s nice that Beard wants to hang and he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth anyway, so he doesn’t question the set-up. Jamie generally assumes that given the choice anyone would always choose to hang with him always, so. He’ll indulge his coach. They have a shared love of trivia.

Eventually Beard learns of Rebecca’s early transgressions, and (secretely) inducts her into the secret club. Club meetings get a whole lot more interesting from there on out.

[derangedanomaly]

I’ve just seen that you did my request and I love it, ty!! (I was the one that requested the weird sleep scenario)

I’d like to request something again, bad sanses + star sanses with a gender neutral skeleton reader that sorta has powers like a genie. They can float, turn invisible, (still has most of the powers a usual sans has) and are very mischievous. The way they can grant wishes is giving someone a marble looking thing and when that person makes a wish, the marble will break and they’ll have to repay reader with something (can be either something shiny or some bones to chew on) they also don’t have a bottle, that’s the only genie thing they don’t have lol

Can i be 💤 anon?

Ah! Hello again anon💤! :D

Yes, that request was quite fun to write! Ok, since there are so many characters, they're probably not gonna be very long, still, I hope you'll enjoy this!

(Sorry for taking so long!)

Au Sanses x Genie reader

(Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror, Error, Dream, Ink, Swap)

Nightmare:

Nightmare actually found your powers quiet mesmerizing at first.

He interrogated you about the powers, and pronounced that your powers aren't very much helpful to him..I mean, yeah, you can grant wishes, but what exactly can- OH MY GOD IS THAT THE LIMITED BOOK HE WANTED BUT COULDN'T MANAGE TO GET?!

Keeps you around simply just for granting wishes 💀 (Asshole)

Doesn't really like the way your powers operate, but can't really do anything about it 🤷‍♀️

Please, don't try to scare him by turning invisible, he might just kill you.

Your relationship has a very rocky start...but you both slowly started to get along.

I swear...he has a constant headache just by your friendship with Killer.

He would do anything in order for you two to stop pulling these stupid pranks on him.

Sometimes likes to stare at you while you're floating around. He just finds that really cool. (Bitch is not gonna admit that 💀)

He hates how much he loves you 🥰

Killer:

THE BEST OF FRIENDS

Killer always felt like the odd one among the bad sanses...they all had their own perspective best friend, but he didn't have one.

Until you came along.

Killer's so clingy towards you after you became best friends...

You guys do a lot of stuff together! Many of them include pranking the others though..

Killer keeps on flirting with you in hopes of scoring a date with you. And if you don't get his flirting, then he'll just cover it up by saying that it's just a friendly banter. (It breaks his nonexistent heart though :(

The first time you scared him by turning invisible, he got very angry, until noticing it was you. Then his whole mood shifted as he just laughed it off. (Bro is a simp)

He was, and will be, so confused that you don't have a bottle. Like what do you mean that it doesn't work like in Aladdin?!

He likes to bother you with very useless wishes, "I wish for that remote on the table to appear in my hands." It was in front of him.

Bro is BROKE ASFF!!! His wallet cries after every wish he makes.. he could repay you with something else than money..but he didn't like to give his stuff away.

Dust:

Dust is a closeted nerd...so of course the first thing he does is whip out his book and write down everything about you.

It's his first time seeing a genie. Of course he's gonna ask a lot of questions!

He loves to study you, to the point where you felt like a wild animal in the Zoo.

He's silently sitting on a nearby chair as you grant Horror his wish, staring at you.. studying how your powers work.

It's gotten to the point where you're getting kinda creeped out..

You, at first, thought that he wanted to make a wish or something, but when he denied it just as you asked him.. you got confused even more.

Bro is staring so much that he eventually stops studying your powers, and is instead studying you.

He now notices even the smallest things about you.

Is getting a little obsessed, not gonna lie, but it's cute. So you'll allow it ;)

Horror:

His reaction to you being a genie is actually very wholesome.. (surprisingly). He wishes for his Au to not be in deep starvation..and for them to finally get out of the underground. Basically, kinda resetting everything that's happened after Frisk left.

You sadly can't grant this wish of his, which leaves him sad and angry. But you do give him a giant meat. (Which made his mood a little better.)

You started to feel sad for him after this moment, so you started to talk to him regularly. Which he enjoyed.

Horror's not much of a talker, so he'll just listen to you most of the time.

It's also partially because he likes to listen to your voice.. ❤️

Horror likes the sound that your powers make whenever you grant a wish, so he's always nearby whenever you're granting wishes. (It's just a little bell that sounds off)

Becomes attached to you, very quickly.

Defends you from Nightmare to the best of his abilities.

Horror's the tallest of the Sanses, (my HC) so he'll be so mesmerized when you float up higher above him. He won't lie, he likes this change. Having to look up for once instead of down.

He likes how your powers operate. It seems fair to him. 🤷‍♀️

Error:

He immediately took advantage of the fact you can grant wishes.

He wished for so many things! Such as; getting Classic's autograph, make Ink disappear, have a popcorn maker, wishing for chocolate,...

He actually doesn't like how you can float. He can't wrap his strings around you and pull you along now! >:(

You're getting on his nerves by being friends with Killer though.

After Nightmare, Error's your next target. Every.time.

Seriously sick of it. If he could, he would seperate you and Killer.IN HEARTBEAT.

He really, really.. really wants to hold your hand, but his Haphephobia doesn't allow him to 💀

Please, don't try to scare him by turning invisible. He WILL crash.

Dream:

He thinks that you must carry a big burden on your shoulders, if you're a Genie. So he gets really concerned if anything really.

He tries to pull you away from granting any wishes, every.time.

He's so cute.. dragging you away to hang out with him to forget about your work.

But he does want to see how your powers operate.

Finds it amazing that you can float, turn invisible... everything really!

After your long persuadation, he gives in and makes a wish.

His wish is really sad...he wishes to have his brother and Au back. He wants to reverse time! Which, as we know, you can't do. It's against the rules to change what was already done. So you politely decline, explaining him exactly why.

Dream's a really understanding person, so of course he doesn't mind it or isn't angry.

What was past...is past. What matters now, is that you're here in the present. Nothing else should matter. ^^ (his words)

Ink:

Immediately, Without hesitation, nor any filter, he asks; "Can you make me feel emotions?"

You don't grant his wish -> he sulks.

He's a forgetful shit, so he'll forget that you're a genie at times.

It's like he's on repeat at the start of your relationship. He finds out you're a genie -> wishes to feel emotions -> you decline -> he sulks -> forgets 💀

Be prepared for this at times.

But after knowing you for awhile, he finally remembers and stops asking you that damn question.

He doesn't have much opinions about you tbh. He's seen some shit, so he's not all that fazed from you being a genie.

The part that shocks him the most is that you don't have a lamp. (His reaction is similar to Killer. Bro confused you for Aladdin 💀)

Y'all have a rocky relationship 🤷‍♀️

Don't worry though, after you get to know each other a bit more, he'll cling to you like a Koala.

Swap:

Similar reaction to Dream. He feels concerned for your mentality.

Everyone's always going to you to grant their wish, but Swap's soul is too kind for his own good. Instead of wishing something for himself, he asks you; "What do you wish for?"

You cried that time. (He was scared that he did something wrong 💀)

You started treating him as if he was some precious gold. Which got him flustered.

He treats you as if you were his queen. Brings you food, helps you out a lot... You name it.

He just feels so much love for you, it's unbelievable.

Doesn't mind your little pranks with Killer. He just sees that as your little escape from work. Which he feels happy for. :)

He just smiles softly whenever you prank him with Killer in tow.

He's so patient and kind towards you😭

Doesn't mind you floating around or the fact that you can turn invisible, you're you, and that's something he never wants to replace.

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 5

Astarion x gn!reader (NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: You and Astarion come across the camp, and its discovery adds a complication to the mix. The two of you share an intimate night together.

Warnings: 18+ - Blood drinking, mentions of past abuse. Explicit sexual content. Penetrative sex, fingering, first time sex.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: As you can see, this chapter is an eventful one. I hope you'll all enjoy! This story is going to get wild, and we're going to start seeing some new (and perhaps familiar) faces 👀 Also, thank you so much to @aerynwrites for making the amazing header image and for looking over this chapter! I appreciate you so much ♥

The thick, awkward silence in the air follows you all the way to the stream - tailing along with you like it’s your shadow.

You’ve never been more grateful to see a body of water in your entire life, and it’s not due to the thirst slowly building in your mouth, or the grime on your skin itching to be cleaned off. It’s because you’re dying to do something that isn’t walking, dying to curb the silence, and dying to think of anything that isn’t Cazador.

How long have the two of you been traveling, now? How long since you’d come across Gandrel? The trees have been too dense to tell the time with any accuracy, but there’s a break of them over the water, and the sun is mid-sky when you glance at its position. 

Hours, maybe. 

Hours of thinking up a thousand different conversation topics. Trying to find something to fill the deadening quiet. None of them seemed appropriate, though; not in the aftermath of finding out that an evil vampire had enslaved Astarion for two centuries and is now relentlessly hunting him. What could you possibly say after that? 

Nothing, you’d eventually decided. You’d say nothing. But that hadn’t made any of it any better. 

The camp shouldn’t be far, now. But that can wait.

You sink to your knees on the bank, taking a handful of the mercifully cool water and splashing it over your face. It’s sweet when you bring it to your lips, blissful on your burning-hot skin, and you can’t help letting out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t wait to get out of these woods,” you say softly, more for yourself.

“They were your idea, my sweet,” Astarion replies, somewhere behind you. 

“Freedom was my idea,” you combat defensively. “The woods just happened to be a temporary part of that.”

“If you’re planning to run from my mother, then it certainly won’t be temporary,” Astarion says. “I’d become very, very friendly with the woods if I were you.”

You drop your hands, shaking away the remaining water as you try - and fail - to bite away your frustration. “Why can’t she leave me alone? All I want is to go back to my home.”

“And I want to wake every morning with a virgin at my side,” he snipes, every word laced with melodramatic condescension, “but life doesn’t give us what we want.” 

This time, your anger cuts through your chest like a knife as you shift to face him. “Well!” you exclaim. “Congratulations then, Astarion, because you do!”

He freezes, a glint in his eye, and you know you’ve made a grave error. “Do I, now?” he purrs. “Interesting.”

You ignore him, turning back to the stream, but your cheeks go hot. “Well?” you finally say. “Are you going to get cleaned up or not?”

To your surprise, he doesn’t respond.

You glance at him and find him staring at the water like it’s a poisonous bog. “Oh, come now, Your Highness. Don’t tell me the stream isn’t good enough for you?”

He scowls at you, but his gaze is quick to flit back to the stream as he speaks. “Running water used to burn like acid, dearest. I’ve never tested if it still does.”

Your mouth snaps shut. No more teasing him, you resolve. It’s only making you look like a complete ass. “Oh,” you finally say.

Astarion sinks down into a squat, hesitantly dipping his fingers into the water and giving a hum. “Well. I suppose that answers that question,” he says, shifting onto his knees.

He’s just as dirty as you feel. Gandrel’s blood is splattered all over him, and the grime of the woods has etched streaks of dirt onto his skin. Somehow, despite all of that, he’s still as beautiful as always. Maybe even more so, like this.

You feel a strange sense of disappointment when he starts rinsing the mess away.

It’s blazing hot out. It was easier to ignore earlier when you were under the shade, but the light is in full effect over the stream, and it’s unavoidable, now. You’re covered in sweat and dirt and the gods know what else. The itch to get clean is maddening.

At first, you try splashing water onto your skin and your filthy shirt, but all it ends up doing is drenching yourself - not cleaning anything at all. You’re left dirty, wet, and frustrated, and, well. Who knows when the next bathing spot will be. You’re already soaked…

You peel off your shoes and socks, get to your feet and take two steps back, then jump in.

The water is freezing cold, but it’s wonderful - euphoric under the pounding sun. It washes away the dirt and blood and sweat with ease, carrying them away as you kick around. The mild current feels like silk over your limbs. For a moment, you even float around on your back, enjoying the peaceful murmur of the water.

Then you remember that you aren’t alone, and you go upright. Astarion is watching you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, distracted from his task. As soon as he sees you looking, he instantly goes back to trying to clean the stains out of his shirt - which is going about as well for him as it had been for you.

You watch his struggle for a moment before a string of words leave your lips. Words that wouldn’t have come out if you’d taken the time to think about it. 

“You should join me!”

He glances at the water. It’s completely clear and a beautiful blue, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. “Darling,” he says, letting out a haughty laugh, “you want me to jump in there? Only the gods know what’s in that water.”

“You’re using it to clean your shirt,” you point out, “which isn’t going very well, Your Highness. It’ll be the closest thing to a bath for miles.”

He simply scowls in response, and you shake your head.

“Alright,” you relent. “Stay up there in the heat, then, covered in blood and dirt. Just don’t start complaining to me when you start to feel dirty.”

His scowl deepens, but he gives up on the shirt and shifts until he’s sitting on the edge of the bank. “Fine,” he says sharply. He looks down and hesitates, tilting his head. Is he wondering how deep it is? If water used to burn, then he probably hasn’t gone swimming in…

Two centuries. 

You let yourself stand, your toes sinking into the mud. The water isn’t much higher than your rib cage, and the crease between Astarion’s brows fades away. Following in your lead, he takes off his boots and socks, then lets himself slide into the water. He grimaces for a moment at the temperature, sinks under the surface, and comes up sopping, wiping water out of his eyes.

You almost feel bad, looking at that silvery mop of curls, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply pushes the mass of wet hair out of his face, then resumes his process of cleaning the blood out of his shirt. Or, trying to. It seems thoroughly fixed into the cream fabric.

For some reason, your attention on him feels like an invasion of a private moment, so you take to making sure you’re cleaned off, averting your gaze - especially when he takes off his shirt to scrub away the stains. The brief flash of porcelain skin you catch has your cheeks blooming with heat; it’s the most you’ve ever seen of him.

To distract yourself, you speak. “I’m surprised you actually got in.”

“Well,” he says. “Unfortunately, my warm baths have been conveniently misplaced. This will have to suffice.”

“Of course,” you mutter, paddling absentmindedly through the water. “For a moment there, I thought you might like something that’s remotely fun. My mistake.”

You’re still turned away, which is why the splash of water that hits you catches you by surprise. “Oh, you bastard,” you gasp, instantly sending another splash back at him.

He pauses, flashing you a wicked grin, and then you’re hit with another one, and another, and another. You’re splashing him back as much as you can and trying to swim away from the splash zone, and he’s splashing you, and you’re both breathless and calling taunts into the air. The sun is in your eyes, and water is in your lungs, and for a brief, blissful moment, it’s like all your worries have slipped away.

When the two of you are finally worn out, muscles aching, you push your way to the shore and lay on the grass, trying to catch your breath as your eyes flutter shut. The sun is golden and warm overhead, and with your now-drenched clothes, it feels wonderful. 

A moment after you’ve gotten out, Astarion joins you. You hear the light thump of his wet shirt landing on the grass next to you, and then he’s sighing. “Gods - it’s hopeless,” he mutters. “Hopefully one of those Zhentarim knew something about fashion.”

 His footsteps head back to his pack, but the feeling of warm sun on your skin is relaxing enough to keep you where you are as he digs around. When he stalls, you finally sit up, coughing some of the leftover water out of your lungs. Another joke is poised on your lips, but when you catch sight of his back, the words turn to ash on your tongue.

The soft pink lines seem like an intricate tattoo at first, but as your eyes continue to take it in, you realize that the skin is raised - far too much to ever be a tattoo. Scars. They’re scars.

You only see them for that brief moment before Astarion has found a new shirt and pulled it over himself, blocking out the sight of them, but even after they’re gone, the markings burn under your eyelids.

He turns to face you, and when he sees your face, the lightheartedness in his eyes immediately fades to something sharper. He knows you’ve seen.

“Your back,” you say softly. “It must have been painful.”

He looks away. “A gift from Cazador,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft. “A poem. He spent the night carving it into me.” He pauses, and pain flashes over his eyes. “He made a lot of adjustments as he went.”

You briefly think to yourself that - evil, powerful vampire or not - if you ever come face-to-face with Cazador Szarr, you’ll tear him to shreds with your bare hands.

Gods. You want to say that you’re sorry, but you already know Astarion won’t take it well. He clearly despises pity, and you’re not going to give it to him. 

Instead, you get to your feet, ignoring the way your drenched clothes now stick to you, and head to your pack. “Why didn’t your mother kill him?”

He scoffs. “Believe me, she tried. Unfortunately, killing a vampire isn’t exactly easy. Rescuing me was the main priority, and, honestly? It was a miracle she even managed that.”

You nod, picking at a loose string on your sleeve. “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“Baldur’s Gate, no doubt,” he replies stiffly. “In his ridiculous palace. He’s a Lord, you know.”

Ridiculous palace. It’s an ironic thing for him to say, but then you recall that Astarion probably doesn’t enjoy Erelin’s palace, either. Then, very much delayed, the reality of his words sinks in. “Hold on. You mean to say that there’s an evil vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate, and no one knows?”

“Oh, some do; they just don’t care,” he says, tilting his head. “You see - it’s all about power. He has a fair amount, and people will do anything to get even a taste of it. You should see his servants. They come to the door, begging for his eternal gift, and they’re stupid enough to think he’ll give it to them if they work hard enough.”

The concept of that is sickening. You fear nothing more than being thrown back into your personal prison, and here people are, volunteering to be in one - and one that’s far, far worse than yours, at that. All for what? Immortality? It doesn’t even remotely appeal to you. 

From the look on his face, Astarion feels the same way. 

Gods. You can’t even imagine what he’s experienced; not even half of it. Everything you’ve been through pales in drastic comparison to his two centuries of torture. Shame sweeps deep through your gut, dark and oozing, and it’s all you can do to not despise yourself. 

Still - he complains about the petty things more than you do. And he hadn’t faulted you for wanting to run. He’d just told you not to bother, because you’d be caught.

“I don’t understand them,” you remark quietly, gathering up your things. “I can’t… imagine wanting something so much I’d give up my freedom for it.”

He shakes his head, and something reproachful paints itself into his expression. “Power is addictive, dearest. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder once more, and Astarion follows in your lead. “Well,” you say, “I suppose we’d better see what that camp is all about.”

You smell the camp before you see it.

The smoke you’d seen yesterday has faded in the air, but the smell of it is present: a distant, hazy odor that lingers in the forest. You and Astarion squat down to be safe, observing from behind the treeline, and it becomes immediately clear what it is.

Banners of silver and blue - those are Calthirian colors. This is your kingdom. What’s left of it, at least. 

You’d been right. This rebellion is a prominent force, from the looks of it. No wonder Erelin had married you off instead of fighting. Still, it makes you wary to go waltzing straight into the place, expecting everything to turn out right. A level of paranoia lays over your skin like sweat, making it hard to think clearly. What if someone recognizes you? Do they know what you look like?

“Well,” Astarion remarks, “I suppose we’ve received our answer. And now that we have, we should be on our merry way.”

“Unfortunately,” you murmur in agreement. “You don’t think they’d give us directions to the nearest village?” It’s a long shot, and mostly a joke, but having traveled all this way to leave no better off is a sinking disappointment. 

“They’d sooner recruit us,” Astarion answers. “Or kill us.”

You stare for a moment longer, then shake your head. “All right - new plan, then. We get the hells away from here. I’ll scale another tree and see if I can see anything.”

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t seem to have any better ideas. He follows silently as you creep through the woods, watching out for any nearby scouts. 

You don’t like this place. It feels ominous, in a way. 

Your breathing doesn’t return to normal until you’re a decent amount away, and you can’t help feeling like you’ve narrowly avoided something awful. Astarion stays on the ground while you climb another tree, and this time, the forest provides something very useful to you. 

A city. Your city.

Baldur’s Gate, in all her glory, lies in the distance. It’ll take days, maybe even a week, to get there - but gods, is the sight of her a relief. Warm beds. Familiar faces. These days, there’s not many people you trust, but the ones you do are all in Baldur’s Gate. If you’re ever going to find any true escape, it’s there.

And, you think, your stomach sinking, there’ll be Ancunín outposts for Astarion to get back to his mother. 

Astarion is pacing along the base of the tree when you hop down again, and his eyes brighten when he looks at you. “Gods. You saw something, didn’t you?”

“Baldur’s Gate,” you tell him, unable to mask the smile that spreads over your lips. “It’s a few days away, but it’s there.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Astarion sighs. “I couldn’t take much more of this.”

But you know what he’s really saying. He’ll finally get back to safety.

The two of you will have to have a talk sooner or later. You aren’t sure if he’s expecting you to return with him, and you’re not keen on arguing with him. You don’t want to leave him, but if it comes down to it - you can’t go back to Erelin. 

Can’t, not won’t. It’s not even a choice. Every part of you rejects the suggestion like an unsuccessful transplant; every inch of you viscerally objects to returning to that palace. You’d bring him with you if you could, but you know that he’d never feel safe. Not while Cazador is out there, hunting for him.

The realization sombers the air as the two of you continue, skirting your way around the camp and in the direction of the city. You do a bit more hunting, and so does Astarion. Your food cooks in silence as the sun starts to set, and he seems to be lost in thought - just like you are.

When the crunch of a nearby branch sounds, the two of you leap two your feet without a second thought, reaching for your weapons. When you see who it is, your knife tumbles out of your hand.

“Cal?”

He looks more worn down than you’ve ever seen him, but it’s undeniably him. Chestnut hair. Grey eyes. A full, trim beard. He’s dressed in Calthirian colors, and his eyes widen in recognition as he stares at you, looking like he can’t believe you’re real. 

“By the gods, is that really you?” he asks. “How? When? Last I heard, you’d returned to the queen’s palace - we’ve been trying to find a way to get you out, but - well, it doesn’t matter. You’re here! You’re really here!”

He glances behind you, and when he sees Astarion, he pauses. His eyes trail over the wedding rings you both wear, and the blood drains out of his face. “Oh no,” he says softly, taking a step back. His expression hardens, and his hand flits toward the sword at his belt. “No, no, no. Tell me that is not who I think it is.”

“Oh, him?” you say quickly. “This is Lirien. He helped me escape.”

“Of course it is,” Cal replies flatly. “Instead of Astarion Ancunín.” He shakes his head. “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? I raised you! Gods - why? Why in the hells would you bring him? Do you have any idea what people will do when they find out?”

Astarion scowls. “I can hear you, you know,” he says.

Cal ignores him. “What am I going to tell them?” he mutters to himself, pacing, looking like he might topple over. “What am I going to do?”

“Nothing,” you say adamantly. “Cal? They’re not going to hear about it. Not about me, and not about him. Alright? We’re leaving.”

But Cal, instead of softening for you like he usually does, simply clenches his jaw. “You can’t be serious. This camp has been searching for a way to get you out for the last month,” he says. “We’ve lost… hundreds of men. They’re planning to mount a rescue mission for you, two days from now! Of course I’m going to tell them you’re here!”

“Well, I got myself out before they did,” you tell him, even though that isn’t really true. “And now, I’m going.”

Cal stares at you, incredulous. “What the hells did they do to you?” he asks. “Brainwashing? Torture?” He shakes his head in disbelief, then steps closer. “I won’t hide you. You were born to rule, understand? I raised you better than this.”

He mutters something under his breath before you can respond, and your and Astarion’s weapons fly toward him, falling neatly at his feet. You start forward, but Cal has snatched them up before you can make a grab for them. You have another knife in your bag, but - gods, do you really have it in you to kill him? Even now?

Before you can decide, he’s reciting another incantation. Warmth blooms on your skin, and something electric fills the air, hazing the air and tickling the inside of your lungs.

“What was that?” you ask, flinching at the sensation. “What did you do?”

“A tracking spell - over the both of you. It’ll tell us where you are even if you run. Don’t go trying anything. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

This side of him is something you don’t know, not even a little, and it breaks you. Betrayal cuts through you like a knife, etching permanently into a sharp, painful spot between your ribs. Something sours on your tongue. 

You’re a pawn. You always have been, even to him. Erelin had been bad enough, but this? Cal cares more about your position than he does you. It hurts so much that you think something in you might actually rip apart and spill out of your gut, seeping into the grass below. 

You have to swallow down the nausea to speak, but the slime of this situation coats your throat and your words when you talk. “Wait until tomorrow,” you request. “Give me one more night away from them. Please.”

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a choice in that. Aris won’t be back until morning anyhow. Come on, you two - I’ll get you situated.”

He starts off toward the camp, but neither you nor Astarion follow after him. Your mind is flying over thoughts at a thousand miles per minute, trying to think of what to do. Gods, what in the hells are you going to do? 

“If I have to get the guards to drag you, I will,” Cal calls. “You’ll spend the night in chains. Come willingly, and you’ll get a tent. It’s your choice.”

You start walking. Your hands are shaking like a leaf. You look to Astarion, whose expression has tightened, who looks even more pale than usual. He’s scared, and you are, too. You have no idea what the hells these people want from you. Cal may have taken your weapons, but there’s still the other knife in your bag. Astarion has his teeth, and there’s two of you… 

Astarion meets your eyes curiously, and his gaze flits over to Cal, raising his brows. His intention is clear, and it's the same thing you’ve been thinking to yourself. After a moment of torturous internal debate, you nod. 

What had you once thought to yourself? That you were willing to do anything for freedom? Gods. Apparently, you are.

You’re just bracing yourself for a fight when the flicker of torches passes through the trees, and you hear the chatter of voices. More men, and from the look of it, they’re all armed. “Cal, is that you?” one calls, lifting his torch higher in the approaching dark so he can see. “New recruits?”

All hope left in you dies at the sight of them. Astarion tenses at your side, his hands clenching into fists. Shit, you think. Shit, shit, shit. They’re going to take you both, and you’re completely fucking helpless to stop it. 

“Yes. Another round,” Cal says casually. It occurs to you that he probably doesn’t want to announce your identity right off the bat, and you can’t decide whether or not you’re grateful for it. 

“Aris will be happy to hear that,” the guard replies. “With the siege, we need everyone we can get. You’re sure they can be trusted?”

Cal glances back at you, smiling grimly. “Positive.”

“Good.”

The two of you are escorted all the way to the camp, and the guards trail away when you reach the outskirts. “This way,” Cal says, leading the two of you to one of the empty tents. “There’s room for both of you, since you seem so fond of each other.”

You stare at the tent, wanting nothing more than to tear through it like a rabid animal.

“Don’t be like that,” Cal implores. “Whatever they did to you, we’ll reverse it. We’ll get you back as you were, hm?” He waits for you to respond, but you don’t. If you do, you think you might actually lose your mind. 

“Alright,” he finally sighs. “Feel free to explore camp, get something to eat, but don’t go past the outer torches. If I wake tomorrow and don’t find you here, the whole of this camp will come after you. Understand?”

You swallow hard, your nails piercing into your palms. “Fuck you, Cal.”

He shakes his head and turns away - but as he moves past you, you catch a flash of movement by his pack. You say nothing, and he’s gone before he’s noticed. You and Astarion are left in front of the tent, alone. 

Well. Here you are.

The tent is larger than you’d expected when you retreat into it, Astarion following after you and sheathing the dagger he’d stolen. There are two bedrolls, some blankets and pillows, and a large amount of space to the side. No amount of blankets and pillows can make any of this better.

Silence falls, sour and agonizing. You want to throw up. You want to drink yourself to death. You want to cry. And you really, really want to punch something.

“So…” Astarion says slowly. “I suppose we’ve met each other’s parents, now.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s bitter. “And what lovely introductions we’ve had.”

His brows pinch in feigned offense. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

You try to smile, but it falls flat. You’re so angry it feels like fire is bursting from your chest. Pressing your face into your hands, you try to breathe, wanting this not to be real - please, gods, don’t be real - but it is. You can smell the torches burning in the distance and feel the soft breeze that’s pressing through the partially-open flap of the tent.

Astarion sighs, then pushes the flap to the side and crawls through.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“To find something to make this situation bearable,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You don’t think he’s foolish enough to fight against the tracking spell with nothing but a dagger, but it doesn’t stop anxiety from fluttering in your gut. 

You can’t stand sitting still, so you leave, too - not following after him, just restless. Drifting.

For a long while, you wander aimlessly around the camp, trailing from place to place with no destination. A person or two gives you an odd look, but you really don’t give a damn. Your problems are much larger than some strangers and their opinions. All of it will turn irrelevant come morning.

Is it fury you feel, seeping so darkly through you? Has your anger turned ice-cold? It’s as if your life has all been an illusion, some kind of cruel trick. Was any of it real? Did Cal ever really care about you, or were you simply a means to an end?

You often try not to think about your parents, but you allow yourself to do so now. Would they approve of this? Would they have wanted this for you, if they were here? Or would you be nothing more than a pawn to them, too?

You don’t know. You’re starting to wonder if there’s anyone who’s ever really cared for you.

The approach of velvet-blue sky brings you wandering back to your assigned tent. It’s different than it had been before - but you can’t recognize quite how. Not until you get inside, at least. 

Astarion has set up a meal: candles and wine and much fancier food than was in your packs or at the ration stations. You stall at the opening, and he nods for you to come in. You take a seat across from him, admiring his work. With the tent closed, it almost feels private. You can almost forget the camp out there, even for just a moment.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

He hands you a goblet, and you take it without another thought. “Well, darling,” he says softly, “I thought we should enjoy our last night of freedom. Who knows where we’ll be come morning.”

You press the glass to your lips and drink, finding a dark, heady wine on your tongue. “We didn’t have wine,” you recall to yourself. “Where the hells did you get this?”

“Oh, you know,” Astarion sighs, waving a dismissive hand. “Around.”

This time, it’s a real smile that overtakes you. “Just like that dagger?”

“Of course,” he says, tilting his head. A mirroring smile plays on his lips, and he takes a sip of his wine. “If he didn’t want it taken, he shouldn’t have had it out in the open. Besides,” he adds, rolling a shoulder, “I was only returning it to its rightful owner.”

You shake your head. “I still can’t believe he did that. I never thought he was capable of… anything even similar to that. I thought he - cared. About me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Astarion replies, but there’s a quiet sympathy on his face. “Especially if they intend for you to rule, which they almost certainly do.”

“Of course.” Your throat tightens, and you take another sip of wine. You feel drawn so incredibly tight. It’s like a part of you is waiting to burst.

“So,” Astarion muses, swirling the glass around, “our last night of freedom. Any idea what you want to do with it, my sweet?”

You let out a huff, staring down at your wine. “Aside from blowing this entire gods damned camp up?” You let out a shaky exhale. “No idea.”

“No?” he asks. “No lifelong list? Something you’ve always wanted to try?”

There must be a thousand things you want to do while you still can, but none of them are coming to mind. You’re wound as tight as a rope, fuming, and would give absolutely anything to stop thinking. 

When you shake your head, Astarion leans forward, setting down his glass. “Nothing comes to mind?”

“I - I don’t know. All I can think about is how… angry I am. I don’t know what I want.”

“Then allow me to make a suggestion, darling,” he says, taking the wine out of your hand, neatly setting it on the chest he’s using as a makeshift table. He leans forward, trailing his thumb along your cheek, and something in your stomach jumps. “We’re here, aren’t we? We might as well take the opportunity to distract ourselves.”

“Astarion-”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice low and honeyed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve felt those little… trembles of excitement when my teeth are in your neck.” He pauses, tilting his head, and another smile plays on the corners of his lips. “No need to be coy,” he purrs. “Your body has already given you away.”

And you do want it. You want it so badly that you can hardly stand it. “And what about you?”

“What?” he asks, frowning. “What about me?”

“What do you want?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Gods. Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, “I want you.”

You’re caught between the ever-growing want now steadily coursing through you and - something else. Something you don’t recognize. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he insists, frustration bleeding into his voice as he pulls back to look at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a half-hearted smile. “Well, for one, I’ve never done this before. Remember?”

The frustration bleeds out of his face, and the line that’s been creased between his brows disappears. “Please,” he says incredulously. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Haven’t you heard of vampires preferring virgins?” 

Something flutters in your gut at his words, at the heated way he’s taking you in. “Alright, then, vampire,” you say, before your fears can suck you in. “Do what you will with me.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, I most certainly will,” he murmurs. 

He leans in, and his lips meet yours, fragrant with honeyed wine, ardent and sweet. Gentle at first, but that quickly becomes a haze of need - his hand tightening on your cheek, your hand tightening on his shirt. 

Gods, you think. Kissing Astarion is like hearing a new melody and knowing that it will never leave your mind. The kiss you’d shared at the wedding has already haunted your mind plenty, but this? This is incomparable. Electric. He coaxes your mouth open with ease, and arousal shoots down your back like a bolt of lightning. When his tongue brushes against yours, every muscle in your body goes slack. 

In the midst of everything, you’re still inexperienced. Your hands don’t know what to do or where to go. One settles on his shoulder, the other keeps itself clutched in his shirt. You can’t tell if it’s right, but if it’s wrong, Astarion doesn’t say.

He places his free hand at your side, using it to stabilize himself as he crawls over you, still kissing you, straddling your legs with his hips. Then that hand is at your waist, and his lips are at your neck, and you’re letting out a soft, wanting noise.

He huffs, kissing up your jaw, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your earlobe. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he hums. 

And what the hells are you supposed to say to that? Of course you’re eager. You’ve been wanting him for ages. The building need between your legs says that more than enough. You’re viciously turned on, and the smugness of his voice isn’t helping, but there’s still an awkwardness to the situation. 

You have no idea what you’re doing. You can’t tell if anything you want is remotely right. In between the pleasure and passion, there’s a building anxiety that’s becoming more and more prominent. It’s distracting you from what he’s doing, which is leaving you nothing but frustrated.

“You’re thinking too much. Relax, darling,” Astarion murmurs, pulling away. “Close your eyes for me.”

And you do. You take one last look at him, so impossibly beautiful in the warm candlelight. His curls have dried tousled from the river, his eyes are half-lidded and dark, and there’s a certain amount of expectancy laced in his gaze that makes you shiver. Then, satisfied that you’ve enclosed the image to memory, you shut your eyes. The darkness helps, you think. A little.

“Good,” Astarion praises, and his lips return to your neck. He takes your hands and places them at his waist, and you’re more than happy to keep them there as he kisses down your jaw. In the darkness of your closed eyes, every touch becomes intensified. Every thought begins to slip away in favor of the feeling of him.

Sharp teeth, grazing along sensitive skin. The icy touch of his skin, sating the scorch of the arousal that shudders through your veins. The soft, almost ticklish brush of his curls against your neck as he kisses along your clavicle. The moment his hands stall at your top, your breath hitches, and your body flinches - an automatic defense you’ve ingrained over the years.

But you want him to touch you. You want this. So you take in a steadying breath and compel your muscles to relax, and he continues - not teasingly slow, but not rushed, either. Taking his time with you.

You’d thought he was beautiful when you first met, but you have to admit: you’re glad that your first time with him, as horrible as the outside circumstances are, is happening here, and not on your wedding night, when you were so hesitant of him. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it, then, even if he’d been the exact same with you. But now? 

Gods, you’re enjoying it. And, judging by the growing hardness between his legs, he’s enjoying it too. 

You’d like to think you’re a patient person, but you really aren’t. The more your want grows, the more your impatience does as well. Your breathing has turned heavy, and as his hands, slowly taking on your warmth, grasp lightly over your ribs, the rhythm of your lungs turns shaky - your entire body singing in want for something you’ve never even experienced.

Just as you’re truly getting desperate, he pulls away again, his hands trailing along your abdomen as he nips at your ear. “You poor thing,” he says, his voice light and teasing. “How did you stand it all this time, alone with me?”

You open your eyes and find him staring down at you, observing the sight of you. You shake your head, failing to bite away the smile that’s threatening to show itself. “Sex wasn’t exactly my priority in the middle of the woods, Astarion. The circumstances were awful.”

“True,” he remarks, tilting his head. His fingers graze over your thigh, still clothed with fabric, but you almost can pretend you don’t know better. “Still,” he says softly, his hands stalling at your lower navel, “here’s hoping we’ll get more time to enjoy this.”

Before he continues undressing you, he pauses, and that crease between his brows forms again. “Just to be clear,” he says, “you do want this?”

Your response is immediate, albeit breathy with want. “I do.”

He flashes you a grin, suddenly wicked. “Good.” 

To your dismay, he crawls off of you, but it’s immediately remedied when he places his hands on your shoulder and eases you to the soft floor of the tent, coaxing your legs apart with his knee.

Any clothes you’re still wearing are quickly disposed of, and needless to say, being so naked while he’s still fully clothed leaves you feeling entirely too vulnerable. “Planning to take me with your clothes on?” you ask, and he pauses, blinking - shaking his head, as if shaking away a stray thought. “Of course not,” he says, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “Simply admiring the view, darling.”

His shirt comes off, first, tugged over his head. All silky-smooth skin that you want to trail your hands over, admire inch by inch. Gods, he’s beautiful, shadows reflecting over lithe muscle, supple skin and unearthly beauty you shouldn’t be able to touch. But you are. You gently lift a hand to him, running your fingers over his forearm, and he smiles, undoing his trousers. 

Your entire body tenses in anticipation of him, but your gaze can’t stay in place. It meets his for a moment, taking in the dark ruby color of his eyes. It flickers over his nimble fingers, studies the tendons in his hands, dances over his chest and abdomen. Something stirs in you, something that aches well beyond the temporary arousal, something that cuts deeper. It’s something that, selfishly, wants him to stay. Wants him to curl next to you in the nights, wants him to leave his mother behind and continue on with you.

An impossible want, but it’s still there. After this, where will it leave the two of you? 

You aren’t sure - but if this is the only chance you’re going to get at it, you’re damn well going to take it. Astarion leans over you, kissing you softly, and then his talented fingers are going to work between your thighs. They work a smooth, blissful friction that you’ve never been able to achieve by yourself - and, though the anxious rooting inside of you wants to shut your eyes, you don’t. You hold his gaze. 

For just a moment, he looks almost distant, but his eyes clear - and something darkens in his gaze as he looks at you. He props over you, watching you as you squirm in pleasure, his lips slightly parted.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and you nearly come apart right there. You don’t, though. He pulls his hand away and you’re left shuddering, panting and aching. Then, he moves closer, places a hand on your thigh to coax your legs apart, and works a finger into you. 

His hands are warm by now, but - gods. The feeling of him, compared to your feeble attempts, is nearly shameful. He takes his time with this - goes slow, watching your face intently. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you realize.

Your impatience is less now, as he increases it to two, then three; the stretch, despite his best efforts, is bordering on painful. The almost-pain fades the further he goes on, bleeding into something else that’s so intensely pleasurable you want to beg him to just take you. 

When he finally stops, he tilts his head. “Oh, you’re ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice silky and low. 

“Please,” comes your response.

“Darling, no need to beg,” he says. “I won’t keep you waiting.”

And he doesn’t. He props himself over you, lowering himself to kiss you, and your leg hitches around his waist. His skin is warm from touching yours, but it’s cold where your arms move to wrap around his neck. You’re mindful of his scars, because you doubt he likes them touched, and he brushes his nose against your cheek as he pushes into you. Slowly, again, but you’re not going to complain. There’s that wash of pain again, and then - oh, gods. Pleasure. Delicious, blissful friction. Your chest heaves and your mouth lets out a loud, needy sound. 

Only then do you remember you’re in the middle of camp, but honestly? You’re so removed at this point that you don’t even care. If all of Calthir hears you getting fucked to the heavens by their enemy prince, so be it. Cal’s probably fucked off to somewhere else anyway, no doubt burdened by guilt. He has to feel some sort of guilt, doesn’t he?

“Gods,” Astarion pants, drawing you back to the present as he slowly deepens his thrusts. You swallow hard, watching the crease of pleasure form between his brows, studying the flash of fangs between his lips. You’re drunk on pleasure, the feel of him, the tiny solitude in this tent that separates you from the rest of the world. He kisses you again, and this time it’s heated, desperate, messy. 

His tongue molds against yours, his fangs graze your lip. Gods, his pace is picking up. Your muscles are starting to tense - the flushed warmth that’s building under your skin is growing. He lets out a soft moan and grips your shoulder, and you instinctively tilt your head for him, giving him access to your neck.

He studies your expression for a moment, as if he’s confirming what you’re offering, and then - gods. He sinks his fangs into your neck. 

If you’d thought the practice was intimate before, it’s so much more now. You barely even feel the pain of the piercing skin - all you feel is him tasting you, groaning into your skin, his hips still rolling evenly. 

He only takes a little, but when he pulls away, there’s that rosy flush to his cheeks. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, metallic iron. His movements are less graceful, now. His gaze is dark and intense, and his grip on you is stronger when he takes your shoulder again, thrusting harder - enough to have you tensing, the both of you panting. 

When the pleasure finally takes you, it’s so intense it’s almost painful. It starts somewhere deep within, working its way through you, singing through your veins until the world blurs at the edges. Blinding, white-hot waves of it ebb and flow through you, taking you away from every sensation but that of Astarion, skin balmy against yours - floating somewhere in the depths of your mind until you finally come down. 

Astarion shudders through his climax just after you, letting out a sudden, wanting noise - as if it’s been punched out of him. As if it had surprised him, just the way it had surprised you. You want to memorize it. You want to take that sound and remember it forever.

When it’s all passed, you’re left covered in sweat, sated, and very, very vulnerable. The arousal that had drifted away your insecurities is waning, and you’re left wanting to hide - to crawl away. But Astarion gently kisses you, carefully pulling out of you, and exhaustion takes over instead. 

The Gur. Finding out about Cazador. Cal’s betrayal. All of that in one day, and it’s taking its toll. Your eyes feel heavy. Your muscles feel achy and worn out. Your thoughts are clouded over, too intertwined and complicated to drag apart when you’re like this.

You sit up and grab a stray rag, intending to clean yourself, but Astarion tugs it out of your fingers. “No, darling, let me,” he says. 

And you do.

He confuses you - that he can be so vicious and so tender. He’d killed Gandrel without hesitation, without remorse - though, admittedly, you’d let him. Let him. As if you had some control over him. As if you could have stopped him. It should scare you, perhaps - that callous, venomous side of him - but it doesn’t. The rough edges of him you keep finding only make you want him more. The details don’t sate you. You always want more. 

And now, you suppose you’ll find out what comes next. 

The tent is silent. You fumble through your pack and find your sleeping clothes, and Astarion does the same. You’re hesitant, not wanting to push too far. You know very well sex doesn’t mean anything more - however much you might want more - and you know for certain that Astarion had not offered you anything aside from that. Still, the thought of curling up alone tonight has your chest aching.

When you finish dressing, you find that Astarion has pulled the two bedrolls together, fluffed up by the pillows and blankets. He raises a brow and pats the spot next to him, and it’s really very childish, the way your chest fills with a delirious sort of joy. You make your way next to him, and he folds you into his arms. 

His skin is cool again. The little sounds of him are relaxing - the movements of his ribs when he breathes, the bob of his throat when he swallows, the light sigh he lets out when his head meets the pillow. It almost makes up for the silence in his chest. The void of sound where a beating heart should be.

For just a moment, before sleep pulls you away, you wonder if he remembers how it felt - to have something alive, thrumming in his chest.

tags: @amica-aenigmata-naboo @sadslasher13 @peachy-possum @the-lonely-abyss @maddiedrmr @starved-kitten @catching-fire-in-the-wind @aoirohi @g0retash

[diagonal-queen]

That Place

♡ pairing: Dazai Osamu x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Dazai decides to introduce you to his old friend, except he's not what you thought he'd be.

♡ wc: 1.5k

♡ cw: Death (I hate to remind everyone that Oda is very deceased), Dazai talks about the mafia and suicide, mentions of alcohol.

note: You guys wanted this 😐 (dw I'm not mad or anything lol, I was just worried when I saw that the angst option won because I suck at writing angst sksjksksskjh) Apologies for errors.

Dazai hadn't said a single word for a few minutes and you were extremely worried about that.

He was taking you to meet an 'old friend' of his, or at least that's what he claimed. You weren't going to any usual places where one might visit a friend, like a cafe or a mall, but instead you were traipsing a small hill near the port. You were fully aware that Dazai was an unorthodox individual, and that his friends possibly were too, but you still had a twinge of apprehension in your stomach.

"Osamu...?" You finally asked, wanting to satiate your curiosity. "Why're we meeting him all the way out here?" Dazai gripped your hand a little tighter, and when you reached the top of the hill he finally spoke.

"He's here, already."

You took one of his arms and held it, almost nervously.

"He's here?" You repeated, confused. There was a tree, a gravestone, some flowers, but not much else. You noticed that the grass was rather soft, for what that was worth. Dazai stared at the headstone.

"Odasaku..." he began, then gestured towards you. "This is Y/N."

"Oh, you were talking about..." The grave. That was what he was talking about. You turned to him in surprise, but he didn't meet your gaze. The usual jovial and carefree gleam in his eyes was entirely absent. It was truly unnerving to see.

"I don't usually talk to him, but I figured an introduction was appropriate," Dazai shrugged, his face expressionless. The grave read S. ODA, who had apparently died at the age of twenty three. You'd never heard of such a man before, but you could only assume that by Dazai's reaction he must have been quite important.

"You said...Odasaku?" You asked, and Dazai drew a slow breath.

"Ah, that's just a nickname I gave him," he explained, quietly. "His name was Oda Sakunosuke."

"Right. How did you know him?"

"...we were both with the Port Mafia at the time," he bit his lip, and for a moment you reconsidered asking a single other question. Dazai hadn't revealed much to you at all about his time as a mafia executive, and eventually you gave up asking any questions. He really only ever griped about his ex-partner.

Dazai had always been, and was still, very much a wild card of a man. He was rather unpredictable, but you'd gotten much better at reading him over time, and you could tell that this Oda Sakunosuke was a rather valuable figure in Dazai's life. It was written plain as day on his face. You wondered then, if that was the case, why you'd never known of his existence before today.

"I see..." you replied so softly it was essentially a whisper.

"He was a little weird, though. He never killed anyone, despite being in the mafia, and he always had his curry really spicy. It was like putting solid fire in your mouth. I tried it once and I think I almost died."

"Some people just have a taste for spicy food, I suppose." You felt a little awkward. Often it was so easy to make conversation with Dazai, which was one of his many traits that drew you in so quickly. However, now you had no idea what to say or how to comfort him, though that was all you wanted to do. Admittedly, though, this revelation about Oda was rather sudden.

"You remember that bar I took you to last weekend? I told you that it was important to me?" You nodded, recalling the location. You remembered how time seemed to slow down while you were sitting in the mostly deserted bar with Dazai, noting the faint scent of smoke and how Dazai was so much more quiet that day. "Odasaku and I used to spend our time there outside of work. Us and Ango, too."

"Ango?" You questioned. You didn't know the agent too well, but you wouldn't have guessed that he and Dazai shared much of a history.

"Yeah. The three of us were friends, before Odasaku died."

"...don't take this the wrong way, but I can't really see you and Ango being friends." You turned to face him. "He's very...stern, and you're not."

"Things have changed since then." That brief statement told you all you needed to know. You sighed, and gave his arm a squeeze. The breeze picked up slightly, the leaves of a nearby tree disturbing your shared silence with their rustling. Dazai's beige coat fluttered in the wind.

"Odasaku is actually the reason I turned to the Agency," Dazai suddenly shrugged, the usual playful inflection somewhat returning to his words. "When he died, I made a promise to him, and that's how I've kept it."

You knew he was being intentionally vague, but whether it was because he'd rather not elaborate or because he thought you wouldn't understand, you weren't sure.

"You were with him when he died?"

"He was killed by the leader of an opposing organisation." Dazai bitterly answered. "And I found him right before he died. He asked me to...he told me to make a promise and I don't want to break it."

"...I know this is kind of a dumb truism, but I think he's proud of you, Osamu," you said, leaning your head onto his shoulder. "I think that he'd be glad to see that you've kept the promise- whatever it is, I mean."

"Mm," Dazai nodded once, slowly. You weren't certain that he'd absorbed the words as you'd intended.

"I'd have liked to meet him. Do you think we'd have gotten along?"

"...yeah, I think...I think he'd have liked you." For the first time since arriving at Oda's grave, Dazai smiled. It was a small, sombre smile, but it was vastly better than his empty expression from moments ago. "In some ways, you remind me of him."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, for one, he was never so enthusiastic about my interest in suicide." Dazai said this like it was a tedious inconvenience, but in his eyes it honestly probably was.

"He sounds like a sensible person," you told Dazai.

"He was pretty sensible, actually. He adopted some kids who were orphaned as a result of the Dragon Head Conflict."

"...the what?"

"You might not have been in Yokohama at the time- I'll explain it all later. Anyway, it was pretty gruesome, and a lot of people were slaughtered. Odasaku saved some of the children who were victims and helped raise them."

"That's so sweet. How are they now?" You asked.

A moment of silence passed.

"They were all killed, not long before Odasaku was."

You wondered if Dazai's past could possibly get any more tragic, before dismissing the thought. Absolutely, it could. Meeting Oda Sakunosuke was likely barely scratching the surface, but you felt that you were ready to learn everything about Dazai's story: even the more unpleasant aspects.

"That's awful...children being wrapped up in all this? That's sickening." You heaved, voice almost cracking. "I can't believe that you- and he...I'm sorry, Osamu. I wish I could have been there for you."

"...when he died, I think I was kind of mad at him, because at the time I felt like he was leaving me behind. I'm still here because of him, though, and for a long time it felt...almost pointless. Nobody was ever as important to me as he was until..." Dazai stopped himself, before drawing a silent breath. "Until I met you."

Something shifted within you, and you felt tears burn the lines of your eyes.

"Without Odasaku, I might not have met you. And I'd hate to think about how my life would be if that were the case." Dazai wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close, kissing the crown of your head. "I don't want to lose you, too."

You cast your misty eyes to the headstone, feeling almost as if it were staring right back at you. You gripped Dazai's coat as you hugged his torso.

"I don't wanna lose you either," you said, finally letting your tears spill down your face. The breeze whistled in your ear. "I don't know how I'd...I couldn't do it. Please, don't leave..."

"Of course I won't," he responded softly. "I'll always be there for you, my love."

Dazai eyed the name carved into the headstone once more as you quietly sobbed into his chest. His jaw tensed as his other arm enveloped your waist, pressing your smaller body to his. It almost felt to him as if he weren't just promising his love to you, but to Oda as well. He would do for you now what he couldn't do for him then, and this time he'd do anything to guarantee it.

i deadass can't remember if Oda's grave is atop a hill near the sea 💀 sorry if that's inaccurate. uhh just pretend for my sake pls. also i don't mean to make it seem like it was Dazai's fault Oda died? i just think in Dazai's mind that's probably how he feels to an extent. idk love you bye x

[meropegaaunt]

WEST COAST

Billy Dunne x reader

Implied eventual Graham Dunne x reader

Summary: The love between two best friends toes the line between platonic and romantic.

Warnings: Kid on kid violence, fighting, angst, alcohol, and attempted kissing

Word Count: 2,359 words

© Meropegaaunt 2023

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): Growing up, Y/N and Billy were, like, best friends. I mean, God, they were close, so close you never saw one without the other.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You, Y/N L/N, grew up in a small suburb outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Said suburb was small, quaint, filled with red-brick houses and white picket fences. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The rich thrived, having two or three properties in their name and far too many zeros in their checking accounts, but the majority struggled to make ends meet, to even keep a roof over their heads. You were part of the majority, but your father, F/N L/N, did everything in his power to ensure that you lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of the struggles that weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. He had two jobs, one as a music teacher and one as a bar manager. Endless hours had been spent slaving away at those jobs in an attempt to ensure you were given every opportunity to succeed, and luckily, you were.

Truth be told, you had not the faintest idea of your dire living circumstances, because your father showered you in love and affection, making everything, even the most mundane tasks, seem like an adventure. He had a way with people, a way that he passed on to you, which was why at school, you got on well with your classmates. You got on best with Billy and Graham Dunne, though, two brothers that shared your true love: music.

(Your friendship did not have an easy beginning, though. Not by a long shot, because even at a young age, Billy had trouble letting people close. Your first encounter with him was in passing. Names had been exchanged, but there was no inkling of what would bloom between the two of you. That inkling did not come until a boy two years older than you and Billy and four years older than Graham came around looking to give Billy a hard time. He found Graham instead, who became his victim of circumstance. You happened upon the scene just in time to see the boy deliver a harsh kick to Graham’s ribs, and that sight alone was enough for you to see red and abandon all common sense. It mattered not that he was your superior in both age and size. All that mattered was that Graham, who had only ever shown you kindness and civility, was frightened and bleeding and needed help, which was why you threw caution to the wind, ran forward, and thundered, “Hey, that’s my friend you’re kicking!” In an instant, you two were on the ground, grappling violently atop the dirt path. The boy pawed at your face, pulling at your locks while you pressed on his throat. His efforts broke your skin and knocked your nose askew, yet your hold stayed firm, just as F/N had shown you. You hunched forward, pale with rage as he writhed about, trying futilely to get free. Each action made his throat tighter, though, so his attempts hastily slowed down. He gasped, his eyes growing hazy from the wild thrumming of the blood in his head. It was only after oxygen escaped him for a beat that you lessened your grip and retreated with Graham, though, your feet flying over the earth until you found Billy. That day, covered in blood and dirt, he deemed you all right.)

Seeing your love for music, your father found and salvaged an old guitar for you, a Gibson Les Paul that had seen far better days. It had suffered much hurt and misuse, but he searched out alternatives for each decaying piece, eventually returning it to its former glory. You basked in its glory, showing it off to the Dunne brothers with stars in your eyes and a smile that rivaled the sun in intensity. They had an old Silvertone guitar, so the three of you began learning how to play, going through much trial and error before discovering what worked and what did not.

Your musical range evolved as you entered your teenage years, especially when Billy and Graham’s mother, Marlene, bought them an old Strat. Armed with three guitars, you delved into songwriting, thus laying the foundation for what eventually became one of the world’s most beloved rock bands.

You were there at the nanscene of the Dunne Brothers band, long before its first additions — drummer Warren Rhodes, bassist Chuck Williams, and rhythm guitarist Eddie Roundtree — were brought on. You did not have a designated title, though. Instead, you played whatever part was needed, whether that be a singer, guitarist, or keyboardist. The band worked whatever gig it could, whether that be at house parties, seedy bars, or dance clubs.

Around that time, you had noticed that you had physically changed, had grown into your own. Your friends had, too, but you did not realize until one of the nights when the band had played at a seedy bar. There had been various acts of violence committed at said bar, but this particular night, a man who was out of his mind on drugs had started swinging. Hands had been thrown, landing hits upon bar attendants, but then, he had come for you . . . You had not seen it coming, too engrossed in your music, which was why there was no time for you to react, to defend yourself. Your eyes snapped up, catching sight of the fist flying your way, but it never made contact with your face. Before it could, Billy collided with the man, hitting him with enough force that he was sent crashing to the ground.

You blinked once, twice, thrice, pure, unfettered shock keeping you rooted in place. It was only when a warm, familiar hand landed upon your shoulder that you snapped out of it, the shock wearing off. “Thanks, Billy,” you breathed, your eyes rising to meet his emerald ones. “I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, a mischievous look flitting across his face. “Couldn’t let him take you out before I do.”

“Ah, that’s not happening,” you remarked, unable to conceal your amusement. He had tried to sweet talk you before, had even gone as far to use his go-to pick-up line: If you let me take you out I’ll write a song about you. The pick-up line had not worked, though, for you had shot back: No, thanks, Dunne. If I want there to be a song about me, I’ll write it myself. “The day we start dating bandmates is the day the Dunne Brothers is over.”

Perhaps if he was being serious, you would consider going on a date with him, but you truly believed that he was not, that he was simply being his typical coquettish self. Despite this, in the future, you will think that this perhaps was the moment when you first realized that you loved him, that you were in love with him . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): We got hired for this wedding. It was a big deal. A wedding meant we were gonna be heard by, you know, a hundred people. I think I was nineteen.

We had auditioned for this couple with our best song. It was this slower, folkier song Y/N and I had written called “Nevermore.” Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Truly. I was writing about the Catonsville Nine and things like that. I thought I was Dylan. But we got this gig.

And about halfway through our show at this wedding, this fifty-something guy catches Y/N on a water break and pulls them onto the dance floor. I see and think, Does this guy know what a creep he looks like? And then I realize it’s my dad.

GRAHAM: Our father was there, all over Y/N, completely unaware he was making them uncomfortable. I realized it before Billy, I think. Recognized him from the pictures our mom kept in the shoe box under her bed.

Y/N L/N (singer, The Six): I didn’t originally know it was Mr. Dunne that had pulled me onto the dance floor that night. I mean, plenty of older men go after younger people. It’s not great, it’s just how it is. Not wanting to start a scene, I danced with him until Billy came down off the stage and pulled me away. Afterward, he told me who he was, and it just . . . made me sick. Mr. Dunne looked right at Billy, his son, and didn’t recognize him. How is that possible? How is that fair?

BILLY: I couldn’t believe it. He’d been gone ten years by that point. And he was supposed to be in Georgia. The asshole was just standing in the middle of the dance floor, no idea his sons were up onstage or that he was dancing with their best friend. I put an end to that. I got off stage and pulled them apart. Y/N was confused as hell, but I explained who he was.

GRAHAM: Billy asked a few people at the wedding about him. Turns out our father had been living a few towns over. Friends with the bride or something. Y/N was furious, saying, “You know what, fuck him. You guys are the best. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.” They were right. He was a drunk asshole anyway. So good riddance to him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Seeing the response — or lack thereof — from Mr. Dunne infuriated you. He had laid eyes upon his sons for the first time in a decade, and there had been no recognition, no remorse. He had helped bring them into the world, had raised them for five and seven years respectively, but then, when given the opportunity to reconnect, he treated them like strangers, like they meant nothing.

Your father had loved you dearly, had done everything in his power to protect you, which was why such a poor excuse of a man was hard to wrap your head around. You tried, though, even going as far as to snag a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to lessen your inhibitions, to think outside of the box. Unfortunately, the whiskey did not offer any answers about Mr. Dunne, but it did cause your budding feelings for Billy to spill out, to make themselves known.

He too had taken in alcohol, had consumed beer after beer, but Billy, for a reason you did not know, held his alcohol better. That was why when you took a seat next to him with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand, he looked relatively put together. You, on the other hand, looked simultaneously attractive and disheveled. It was paradoxical, but the sight of you, with your warm cheeks and wild hair, lit a fire within him, a fire whose flames threatened to consume him, to devour him whole.

“Billy,” you breathed his name, leaning through the dark so that your faces were mere millimeters apart, causing your breaths to mingle. “Your dad is a real prick, but I’m — I’m glad you’re not like him. You’re a real great guy. The best.”

“I’m not,” he refuted, knowing that your tongue had been loosened by the alcohol. When sober, you were generous with your words, but not like this. Not to this degree. “I’ve made some dumbass decisions. You know that better than anyone—“

“And yet, I still love you,” you cut him off, leaning impossibly closer. You had contemplated kissing him a handful of times since that night in the bar, but had yet to work up enough nerve to do so. Now, when you were feeling brazen, it would be so quick, so easy. All you had to do was bridge the gap between your faces . . . You made to do so, to press your lips to his, but he pulled away, moving out of your range. A mixture of hurt and confusion crossed your features then, followed by uncertainty. “Do you not want to—“

“Not like this,” he shook his head, because even though the flirtatious comments sent your way held truth, he would not allow you to make such a drastic move when drunk. Not with him. “If you remember this tomorrow, we can figure things out, Y/N.”

In a perfect world, you would remember this conversation the next day. You and Billy would communicate and sort out your feelings together, but this world was not perfect. In this world, you did not remember your advances on Billy, which was why when he met the foxy, dark-haired Camila Martinez, he pursued her . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

WARREN RHODES (drummer, The Six): In the summer and fall of ‘69, we were all really starting to get laid, man. And Billy was taking himself off the market. We’d all be with chicks and he’d be sitting there, smoking a joint, having a beer to keep himself busy. I came out of a girl’s room one time, zipping my pants up, and Billy was sitting on the sofa, watching Dick Cavett. I knew Y/N loved Billy. Hell, by that point, I think everyone except Billy knew. So I said, “Man, you gotta ditch that girlfriend.” Don’t get me wrong; we all liked Camila, she was foxy and she’d tell you your business right to your face, which I liked. But c’mon. Y/N isn’t the sort of person you want to miss out on an opportunity with.

Y/N: I wanted to hate Camila. It would have been easier that way, if she was terrible to Billy, if she made him unhappy, but she didn’t. She grounded him, made him a better version of himself, so there really was no choice but for me to take a step back, to put some distance between Billy and I.

GRAHAM: It killed Y/N to give Billy and Camila space, but they did. Because they loved him, and that . . . that took a lot of selflessness. I think, maybe, that might have been when I started falling in love with them.

[haztory]

sorry for being absent literally always, but i had to get this out of my drafts.

goddess!reader x mortal!bakugou; warnings: blood, mentions of sex, murder, unhappy relationships, unhinged reader and bakugou (tiny bit), not beta’d

(w.c. 2.1k)

Rapacious, your father would call you were he to see you now. Salacious, acting in behavior once thought deterred; The kind that he meant to have stamped out of you in an effort to cultivate you into the pious cog in of his senseless grandeur. His promise of destiny. 

Your father’s lips would be turned in that virtuous frown, eyes narrowed as he sat from his throne in the great pantheon of Gods. Validated by their fealty. The model figure that is woefully negligent as he speaks of the sanctity of commandments that have seen his betrayal one too many times before. Sanctimonious in his rectitude, righteous in his hypocrisy, your father is.

He meant to cage you, raging at your freedom and its significance—angry that you were wild, changing the tides of human wars with the gentlest of smiles and lulling whispers; Rampaging that fellow Gods, his own brothers, were victim to the whims of your games with the mortals; Furious that the power you wielded began to rival that of his own; Murderous that you were too much like him: untamed, greedy, victorious and still, adored. 

You have never known his anger to be long-lasting, especially not in a manner of great meaning when you could falsely promise your way out of it. Batting eyelashes in truce—but, this is beyond punishment for the defiance of a rule. He means to break you. 

A husband. 

One bound to you without your consultation, much less knowledge. Promised in hand and divinity to be half of a whole to this pitiful excuse of God. 

There was hardly an expectation of satisfaction within the marriage on a good day, much less pleasure in the ways that physically mattered; Could such a thing ever truly be expected from a man who only knew how to hammer metal? Up, down, up, down until the glowing steel was forged.

Your husband is a man of great fortitude, who knows and will only know that of the fire he works with. The flames reflected in the dullness of his irises being the only exciting thing about him. He is monotonous within his construction. Routined and boring. 

How could there ever be the expectation of fidelity from you, the Goddess of Love? 

How could you be shackled to the bedside of a man who has never known the strength of the sea from which you are born? How can you love a man who does not know the impact of the tide and draws no desire from its power? How can you be with a man who does not know and adore you as you are? For a millenia, nonetheless! 

You've come to know of this arrangement as a curse; A woeful attempt to tame you from the wild and lustful by forcing you to make acquaintance with the bland and boring. Binding you to the shore, never to make acquaintance with the push and pull of the forceful nature. 

Credit must be paid your way. You had tried. In the depths of shame and sorrow, you tried to do as your brothers and sisters and settle. Gave in and let yourself  believe that love and happiness could be found within routine, eventually. It is your novelty, after all. And yet, it still finds you. This yearning for more, the urge to love and be loved. Your nature still rises from the swaying tide and dares to edge the coast. 

Your father would not approve were he to see you now, watching from your high plane in the heavens to the happenings of the mortal world. Surely, your husband would violently disapprove too, convinced that he has you loyal. 

You shouldn’t fixate; Had promised in low lights and empty words in your husband’s grimy embrace that you have seen the errors of your ways; That you have and will change. For his sake. But he does not know what happens when he is away in his cave of brimstone. 

Your attention is caught. And the object of your fascination is a marvel.

Sculpted from clay himself, you have half a mind to believe that one of your siblings has had a part in his creation. Broad and muscular, sharp and angular in all the places that deem him a man. This mortal has caught your eye since his ascension from boy to man. He is a village soldier. Fiercely protective and eager for a fight, and yet always looking to the heavens. As though there was something there waiting for him, beckoning him closer. You suppose he isn’t wrong, as you peer down to him just as he looks up. 

There have been whispers of his fate amongst the crowds since he was a boy, certainty issued in his great destiny.  No one is more sure of it than he. 

Which may be what finds him in your temple. 

Sanctuaries have never known themselves to be exclusive, but you must admit that it is certainly strange to have a man of his designation pray to the Goddess of Love. Surely he must have found some alignment more towards that of your stoic sister, emboldened by the desire for courage and brawn. And yet he is here, treading the halls in the stillness of night and giving small offerings to each of your priestesses and holding one large offering basket for your statue.

He stands beneath the colonnade, staring pensively at the intricate designs of your image on marble. He speaks only when the room has been cleared, the priestesses giving him the space to pray in solace.

“I hear you.” His timbre is gruff yet smooth. Commanding as it echoes. “You are calling to me.”

You remain still, almost taken aback at his forwardness. The waves of temptation creep at your feet. 

“I intend to find you, whether you show yourself or not.” He speaks again. He looks up, and although you know it improbable, you swear eyes of vermillion have pinpointed your location in the sky. And so, it comes crashing.

It has been so long since you have last appeared before a mortal, and appearing before him transcends all relatability. To see the fixation, your desire, and to have him see you. If he is surprised by your arrival, he doesn’t show it. Eyes strong in their stoic gaze, lips almost curled in a sneer. One would think you were his enemy, but you know such a charge to be false. It’s a charge of electricity, the cooling nighttime air suddenly warming at the meeting of your gaze. 

He is no enemy to you, and you are certainly no stranger to him.

“No one has ever commanded me so directly. How did you know?” You ask. of genuine curiosity.

“I dream of you.” He says the answer so plainly, as though it were a common occurrence. You can’t help but raise a brow. 

“Oh?” 

“I have for years. It was only a matter of time before you showed yourself.”

The chains forged by your husband suddenly feel the lightest that they have ever felt. Metal rattling against each other, pushing and pulling as something brews within you. You wonder what this mortal thinks of you. If he finds you as beautiful as you find him; If the power within him is as strong as you think it is. 

If he is strong enough to cut through steel.

“And what did you dream of?” You ask, taking a step forward. Feeling elation fill you like the swirling breeze as his eyes quickly watch you step forward.

“Tch. Like you don’t know.” His jaw flexes and with it comes the bloom of a subtle blush on his cheeks. “Didn’t you plant the damn things?” 

No, you didn’t. You could certainly look to see what it is he dreamed of, but this is more fun. Finally, finally, you feel the remnants of yourself pulse alive. 

“Have you come to give me a greater purpose?” He asks quickly, in diversion. You let him, too satisfied with the newfound freedom to care much about his attempt at modesty. 

You step closer to him, watching as his eyes cascade down the sheer chiton adorning your body. “Is that what I did in your dreams? Fill you with purpose?”

You find yourself almost chest to chest with him, his eyes never leaving yours, “Or did you fill me?”

You laugh when his eyes widen, turning to take a chocolate from the offering basket held still in his hands and plopping it into your mouth. Marveling at its taste, deciding that it must be homemade.  “Is that what you are in search for? A greater purpose? How about a culinary artist? Your skills are impeccable.”

He doesn’t laugh. “I am destined for more.” 

He knows he is. You know he is. Have not eyed him for so long to have not known. He stands firm before you, a soldier waiting for instruction. In any other instance you would rebuke such a stand, revolt at the rigid and serious, and yet with him—

Well, in devotion to you, who can fault you for testing its limits? Especially when there is something that has sat within you, waiting for the opportune moment. 

You meet his gaze, deciding to no longer tease. “How much more?”

“Anything you will give me.” He quickly responds. 

“And this destiny you seek, do you do it for pride or service?”

“I am your loyal follower and patron, Goddess Divine. What I do is for you.”

“A man like you, patron to me. How lucky am I?” You smile, but it is quickly assumed by the sneaking tendrils of your dark desire. Your voice stills, “The task I have for you is very arduous. Unyielding, difficult, and not aimed for the weak. Destiny setting, to be sure.”

The man seems to preen at those words, a smile finally finding its way to his face. It curls, dangerously, hungrily. “Name it.”

“Once it is spoken, it cannot be undone.” You warn.

“The task is mine alone.” He insists.

You find yourself before him again, and he leans in to listen closely. You can sense the fight in him, smell his musk. The promised freedom teeters on the edge of your words. 

“...kill Hephaestus. Free me from the shackles of my constricting punishment.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t balk, doesn’t shy away from the treasonous words. He does as you have seen him do and stands firm, almost vibrates with his desire to act. 

You can almost feel the brush of the sea on your skin again. 

“And my reward?” He asks, confidently.

“Is my eternal patronage and favor not enough?” You laugh, eased in his presence rather than tight at the admittance of your evil. Circling around him, you drag your finger across the broadness of his bare and unmarred shoulders. You wonder if the purity of his skin is a reflection of his valiance. Wonder if your desires are steered correctly, that he is the one to have the strength to carry him to victory. 

He glances to you over his shoulder, “Surely, the Goddess has more in plan for the man set to kill her husband than bragging rights?”

Curiosity clouded with the tendrils of lust at the man who holds your fate in his hands, you place your chin on his shoulder, meeting his vermillion gaze as your nose scarcely brushes the smooth expanse of his sculptured chin. Intimacy with a man who isn’t your husband, intimacy that is natural and wanted rather than forced.

“Cheeky.” You murmur, and his grin widens. A veil of clouded air blurs his vision before you reappear in front of him, your weight placed onto him as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Bring me the head of my oppressor,” You begin, said so airily it could be mistaken as a light conversation rather than a plot for murder, “And I will make you a God in his place. Meant to enact your own destiny, made to rule beside me.”

You lean your forehead closer, meeting him as your noses brush in meeting. Tracing one another, you whisper, “Can you do it?”

Without hesitation, he breathes into you. “I am yours, Goddess Divine.”

“And your name, O Great Warrior?”

“Bakugou.” A storm brews mightily in his irises and you can taste the salt of the spray, feel the ocean beckoning you home. 

Your release from the cage is so close to the touch, the hilt of the sword dealing the victory blow to your freedom held by him. 

You smile, wide, and true, and lustful for blood. “A fitting name for a God.” 

It comes as no great surprise when the mortal appears at your temple a few weeks later. He is limping through marbled halls and dripping with blood, the key to your cage held in his hands. Your husband's severed head held by his bloodied and mangled fingers, a wicked smile on his face as he beckons you down from the heavens. You find yourself once again, marveling.

And finally, in love.

[lickmycoffeecup]

I’m normally never up this early, but couldn’t get back to sleep, so lets goooo

TMAGP 26 spoilers

I can’t believe we got a sexual implication/innuendo warning for that joke 😂

And I guess kinda what happens at the end but /hand wave

ALICE IS SO SMART, and I am so worried for her. Sam has shared very little of his ‘Magnusing’ with her beyond their little trip to the burned down building. AND SHE PIECED IT TOGETHER WITH NOTHING BUT HEARING “Archivist.” Seriously, Celia and Sam should involve her, they would have solved this shit already.

Also, is it weird the OIAR’s system DOESN’T include an ‘Archivist’ category? Cause that seems weird 👀

The statement was interesting, but mainly [ERROR] MY BELOVED ❤️

I love it when they show up. I’m a Vast girlie, but The Eye has a special place in my heart.

Its curious that [ERROR] is literally scaring people to death. That seems really counter intuitive, cause you can’t really control how long it will be until someone dies, and you have to move on to someone else. Death was always just a result in TMA, not usually the goal. Not that I think [ERROR] is trying to kill people.

But it really feels like that part of Jon that just had a need to feed, stumbling upon random people with trauma, and asking for their story to get a fresh meal.

Also brings up what comes with having an addiction.

Something about the statement it was taking though. It didn’t sound supernatural. Neither did the drowning lady Alice came into contact with.

If I had to guess, maybe these people experienced someone dying themselves? Why else would you run like you’re being chased like that? If you weren’t afraid of the same thing you witnessed happening to you?

Thats just speculation, but guess we’ll see.

Oh, some thoughts cause I saw @/hemi-demi(❤️) talking about it. “An” is definitely a curious descriptor. Cause not only does it imply ‘more than one,’ which might explain how we keep seeing [ERROR] in the places we do. That they are not a singular being. It feels like a call back to Jon being “The Archivist” and eventually “The Archives.” It divorces that sense of self and humanity, that just makes me love [ERROR] even more. (Oh you say you’re not human? TOO BAD, I LOVE YOU ANYWAY.)

Now onto the best part.

HELEN.

Does anyone else think it’s wild that she’s also a real estate agent in this universe? CAUSE SHE SEEMED SUS AS HELL. The laugh, the willingness to help, giving them a list to possibly dangerous places.

Of any of the fears I would expect to be hard to kill, The Spiral is it. I would not be surprised if this is our Helen. Cause its WAY too convenient for her to be a real estate agent, have connections to The Magnus Institute, and be just SO HAPPY to help.

HELEN IM WATCHING YOU.

But also it was so nice to hear her again.

Imogen loves Helen more than anyone, and I just know she was so excited to voice her again.

Also I LOVE how unnerved Celia was by Helen. Never beating those originally from the TMA universe allegations. I need Celia thrown off balance more. SLIP UP! SLIP UP!

I’m with Chester, thats a huge nah from me, listening to people get it on 😂

Also Chester not beating the asexual allegations, same bro.

This was a fun episode! A lot going on! The sense of dread at the approaching finale is not getting any better. But I get excited every time Tuesday rolls around now!

[sequenceshift-blog]

SequenceShift Starlo

It's been a while since I've put out anything for SequenceShift. So, I decided to start rambling about my depictions of Undertale Yellow characters in my AU. I decided to go with Starlo, mainly due to @profounddefendorcrusade-blog and their posts about him.

So, what's the deal with Starlo in SequenceShift?

Sorry for a lack of pictures btw.

Well, like UTY Starlo, he was childhood friends with Ceroba and the Sheriff of the Wild East. For a time, he was pretty much almost entirely identical to how he is in vanilla UTY.

Until the massacre of the Wild East.

Basically, a Renegade human (NOT one of the six souls) made their way underground, falling into the Barrens, and started laying waste to the Wild East. Almost half of its inhabitants were killed and Starlo was just barely able to take down the invader.

This basically mentally broke him. He had believed in Western culture without any of its actual drawbacks, only to have to come to terms with the harsh realities of lawbringing. Now many of his friends were gone and the community he worked so hard to build was shattered. However, he eventually started to take this as a learning experience into becoming an actually responsible and competent lawbringer. He swore himself into Ceroba's service, trained to become a deadly combatant, and was eventually made Chief of the newly formed Royal Rangers. Rather than just pretending to be badass, he genuinely became badass with the goal of making sure nothing like the Wild East Massacre happens ever again.

Unfortunately, this came with its own flaws.

He and the Feisty Four started to grow distant from one another, despite them being core members of the Rangers. This was a mix of trauma and their new jobs. Eventually they started seeing each other less as friends and more as coworkers, with only Moray and Mooch truly sticking together. This didn't really help Starlo, who devoted himself even more to Ceroba.

At his core, he's still the same kind-hearted, dorky farmboy who's looking out for his friends and community, which ties into his main motivation. He wants to make Ceroba, his best friend, happy again. However, he is willing to go to drastic measures to accomplish that, even if he knows it's wrong.

On a Pacifist/Light Neutral run, he still shows off that cowboy persona of his. He still wears his poncho and sheriff's badge over his Ranger uniform and holds a lot of the same demeanor, even if it's not as prominent. It's used as a coping mechanism (with him still yearning for that escapist Western fantasy he was living out) and to help cheer up those around him. He keeps up this persona, hoping to be able to willingly bring Clover to Ceroba. He only drops it at the end of the Barrens, where he (reluctantly) attacks Clover after they show that they aren't going to just go with him.

However, cracks start to show in his persona the more monsters Clover kills. He starts simply being passive aggressive, but the more ruthless a neutral run is, the more hostile he becomes, showing more of that darker anti-hero side. Should go without saying, but it becomes especially apparent if Clover kills any of the Feisty Four. This reaches its lowest point in the Vengeance/No Mercy route, where straight up ditches the poncho and badge, instead wearing his Ranger uniform on full display, showing that he's fully embraced his role as a ruthless lawbringer.

However, on a Pacifist run, he can be convinced to see the error of his ways. His version of Undyne's Friendship interactions has Clover and Dina bringing the Feisty Five back together, which definitely improves Starlo's morale and mental state. This eventually leads him to take a stand against Ceroba, not because he's disillusioned with her. Rather it's because he still cares for her as a friend (no matter how much wrong she's done) and knows that by continuing to collect human souls for Project Integrity, she's only digging herself into a bigger hole.

Tl;dr: Starlo in SequenceShift has the same cowboy persona, but hides a more ruthless antihero side beneath that. However, even that's a mask for the same kind-hearted, dorky farmer who just wants to make his best friend happy.

Thanks for indulging in my ramblings. It's good to be talking about my AU again. If you wanna hear more about any of the other characters (or if I missed something about Starlo), feel free to hit me up!

[scribblestatic]

Hey yo, time for a dose of Sheepzun :3

----

Shen Yuan snuck his way further onto Qiong Ding Peak in search of his student. He rammed a few demons along the way, leaving them laying about in his search. Which, yes, he was leaving a mess, but he didn't have opposable thumbs to clean up after himself and he's kinda busy right now!

After some searching, he heard some wild commotion. It looked to be coming from the central platform of Qiong Ding, right in front of the main hall. Who would attack the main hall first except for some show-off, ah? If you want to infiltrate, start from the corners and bleed inwards so the main brass doesn't notice until it's too late! That's the kind of method that works best in this dog-eat-dog world!

Regardless, he kept himself concealed as he approached, noting that most of the disciples, as expected, wore Qiong Ding Peak colors. A smattered few wore Qing Jing Peak ones, with only a dotted minority wearing those of other peaks. When his ears flicked backwards, he heard a few more Qing Jing Peak disciples on their way.

Ah, interrupting the demons in their effort to break the bridge was a good idea! Perhaps Qing Jing could protect these lambs while waiting for more powerful backup. However, Qing Jing Peak didn't have many disciples, right? If it was one of the other peaks, there'd be more backup...but, of course, they'd mostly be lambs.

Where were the instructors, ah?? Their cultivation should be better than these little ones!

Frustrations aside, Shen Yuan snuck around the back of the crowd, easing his way toward the front. He had to be careful several times to avoid rushing disciples, keeping them from knocking into him or his horns.

Eventually, he made it near the front, only to see...dancing?

No, it was a battle. But it looked more like dancing to him than expected. Their fighting was elegant in a way, but it wasn't the sort of bloody event he'd been expecting between an immortal and a demon. Though, perhaps that had to do with the immortal's lack of spiritual sword. She must be of Luo Binghe's generation, some of whom haven't received their swords yet.

As such, her sword didn't ring with powerful energy, and as Shen Yuan watched, he saw her make a few mistakes. She overextended her arm at times, spun a little too loosely, just minute errors. But they built up, resulting in her loss once the demoness she battled struck her arm and chest.

After she picked herself up from the ground, she walked over to a lofty immortal who was leisurely fanning himself and--

Ah! Wasn't that one of the immortal lords he'd rescued in the cave? He was well! How wonderful!

Indeed, his colors were clearly Qing Jing, and he'd managed to clean himself up quite well. Perhaps he'd been cultivating in a different cave before finding the other...err...the pretty one. Yeah. Shen Yuan looked around briefly, realizing he couldn't see him anywhere. Maybe he was still recovering? He couldn't imagine it took that long, but he's a ram. Maybe it worked differently for humans.

Anyway, this guy, in his silver hair crown, fanning himself leisurely, was clearly some sort of immortal master. And he'd saved this guy's life? Perhaps he had some golden thighs to cling to after all!

...Eh? What a strange thought he just had. What 'golden thighs'?

"This disciple has lost and disgraced the mission, I request that Martial Uncle Shen punish me."

Punishment? No, she didn't deserve any sort of punishment. She'd done her best all things considered. Instead, she needed to learn the places she could've done better and continue her educa--

The immortal huffed, dismissing her with the wave of his fan, his expression curled in derision. The veiled girl managed a respectful bow despite her injured arm, then joined the gaggle of other girls in purple garb much like her own.

?

???

???

What an asshole???

Excuse me, Mr. Immortal, this ram had to save you in the caves! Where do you get off on acting like that little lamb was bothering you with her earnest attempt? Aren't you something of a teacher? Shouldn't you use this as an opportunity for her to learn?!

This Shen guy--

...Shen.

As in, Shen Qingqiu?

The demoness who won against the veiled girl smiled coquettishly, her body loosely covered in red bolts of fabric. So much skin, there was little left to the imagination. Ah, but Shen Yuan didn't think too much of that. As it was, his tail and wool were all that maintained his decency, in the humanoid sense, anyway. He would not be a pot berating a kettle.

Rouged lips parted to show bright teeth, canines a tad too sharp to be strictly human.

"This third trial will determine the victory! Who will you send up for the next trial, Elder Shen? This time, you had better choose carefully."

Agh, it really was Shen Qingqiu, wasn't it?

This lofty immortal with no teaching ability, this man was his Bing-lamb's human shizun? What a waste of a handsome face!

Ah, no, he should wait. It wouldn't be right to judge someone so quickly. After all, that immortal had been trying to help his pretty comrade in the caves, only for his messed up meridians to hinder him. If anything, the fact he's cultivated up to a core formation shows his dedication to the craft. Indeed, perhaps this man was simply somewhat cagey.

When the man spoke, a handsome, if not snide, voice rang out.

"No need for the Young Miss to trouble herself. This Shen has a person in mind."

Oof, he's definitely cagey. And quite apt at insults.

The young miss in question called out for a warrior on her side to come forth for what was apparently the third trial. So, there had been a battle beforehand? Who had fought?

But Shen Yuan's thoughts quickly became distracted when the ground below him shook. He moved out of the way as disciples around him shook and clustered in closer, clearly feeling some fear.

Not that Shen Yuan would blame them, considering the one that stepped out!

The huge demon elder was definitely some sort of giant! At least ten zhang tall, with a thick, hefty build, wearing thorny armor all over his body, he dragged an equally-large sledgehammer behind him. A toothy grin peered out from behind his shaggy hair and helmet.

The demoness in red spread her arms in display.

"I'll give everyone on this immortal mountain a warning first. The spikes on Elder Tian Chui's armor are covered with my family's strongest poison. This kind of poison has no effect on demons, but if a human is pierced, there is no cure."

...Excuse me, Young Miss?

Why would you bring an incurable poison to an immortal's mountain unless you meant to murder? Why bother playing around and fighting three rounds when the last one clearly shows your intent? What kind of infiltration is this?!

Also, Tian Chui?! Was this elder born carrying his sledgehammer the entire time?!! Did his mother look down at his body and say, "Dear demon child, look at you, born with a hammer! Your hammer will one day pierce the heavens and fight the power of the immortals!"

Terrible naming! Absolutely the worst!! Spit on your mother's grave, Tian Chui!!

Shen Yuan was so close to stomping his hooves in irritation, he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from doing so. But goodness, he'd never felt so enraged in his life! Something about being away from Qing Jing and Luo Binghe just made this world and its intricacies ten times worse.

Where was his little lamb? He should get the boy and go back to Qing Jing immediately. At least to get away from this mess!

The disciples around him clearly agreed, airing out their frustrations.

"Stinking demon girl!! Competing is competing! Using a strong poison--what fairness is there!"

Damn right, boy in Qiong Ding robes!

But the demoness just laughed.

"I didn't hide this point. If you feel anything's unfair, or if you're afraid of getting poisoned and losing your life, the custom is to cede the trial. There would be no more need to compete then. We demons won't laugh at you since we cherish life." Her grin sharpened then, clearly mocking. "It's only human."

Ah. She's a bitch.

Shen Yuan's not sure what a 'bitch' is, but whatever it is, she's that. He'd have to find out later.

The disciples continued their complaints, angrily condemning the demons. And, of course, none of them stepped forward. Who would? It's not just human nature to value your own life--it's the nature of all living organisms! Who in their right mind would throw it away once you told them an action would end it?

Shen Qingqiu was clearly thinking the same thing. After all, he was being quite quiet as the bantering slowed. As an immortal master of some sort, surely he wouldn't threaten the lives of his little lambs. He was an adult! It's important to give lambs the opportunity to grow, but it needed to be under controlled circumstances.

Before, with the demoness, there wasn't a threat of death. Now there was. Surely, the master would argue--

“Luo Binghe, you come out.”

...

Eh?

After a beat of silence, the Qing Jing disciples immediately started yelling. Disciples from other peaks barely did so, but they could be excused. They didn't know that Luo Binghe, instead of being a head disciple with 30+ years of cultivation under his belt, was just a wee lamb with less than two decades under his belt, more than half of which were spent in the mortal realm.

Of course, knowing this, Ming Fan--Ming Fan of all people--paled, suggesting he wasn't suitable for the task. A young girl also in Qing Jing robes cried out, attracting Shen Yuan's attention.

Sure enough, he finally found Binghe.

His lamb was stiff, eyes wide. The girl who had cried out was clinging to one of his arms--ah, yes, Ning Yingying--saying in a sort of babyish cry that she didn't want Luo Binghe to fight, stamping her feet much like Shen Yuan wanted to.

Of course! Good girl! She got his Binghe into trouble a few times, but she had a good heart overall!

But the immortal simply raised a brow.

“I said to let him go up so he should go up. Are you unsatisfied with this master’s judgment? Ying-er, let him go.”

As Luo Binghe comforted the girl, his tanned face pale, Shen Yuan shook, his hearing turning to white noise.

What was this? Was this really happening right now?

The boy's just barely 16, and he has had next to no battle experience at all. Although Binghe told him about the trip down the mountain and how Ning Yingying had gotten kidnapped, that experience barely counted for anything. A skinner demon was substantially less threatening than this bear of an elder.

What sort of...

He blinked, ears still ringing, and Luo Binghe stood before the hefty demon, like a sproutling before a fierce storm of demonic energy.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

An anger like no other struck through his body. This...he had to stop this. If Luo Binghe met his end here, he wouldn't be able to live with himself--

But another thought came to him.

He was a teacher, was he not? At least, Luo Binghe trusted him to be a teacher.

And this situation... Luo Binghe was not prepared for it. And so, he should step in...

But something told him to wait. Something nagged at the back of his mind to stay his hooves and watch. It was the same sort of feeling that drew him to the cave, only this time, it was...light.

Positive.

...Although this sort of thing could be like a lamb to the slaughter, an old story he'd heard from another culture also came to mind. Of a young man wielding only a slingshot against a giant. He couldn't remember the names of the subjects in the sacred texts...Dà Wèi [大卫 - David] and Jùrén [巨人 - Goliath], maybe?

Anyway, from what little he could remember in his strange, hazy recollections was that Da Wei, despite being heavily outclassed, won against Juren just using that slingshot he had.

Shen Yuan's little lamb...perhaps he was just as powerful.

Despite his strong desire to interfere, he shakily placed his hoof back down, teeth gritting.

...He would trust in Binghe's power. What he needed more than protection was belief. He needed someone to truly believe in him. And so, as his shizun, he would take that position and put all of his power into believing in Luo Binghe's success.

And so, with the heavy slam of Elder Tian Chui's sledgehammer, the battle began.

Shen Yuan watched carefully, his eyes solely on Luo Binghe. If he would not interfere, then he would catalogue all his movements. Every single place he could've been better, every single move he could improve. He would do his job as his teacher.

He choked down a bleat the first time the hammer made contact with Luo Binghe's body.

But he also watched as the boy rolled, redirecting as much of the pressure as possible to reduce damage. He was, undoubtedly, still hurt, but he showed no weakness.

Indeed, a prey animal could not show any weakness. Doing so could spell death.

Even a mouse, when cornered, opens its mouth and squeaks a war cry against the cat hunting it, threatening with its little teeth.

With enough of an opening, that little mouse would jump forward and bite.

Luo Binghe had taken such lessons to heart, searching for the best place to strike. But it was very difficult. Trying to strike would mean getting closer to the poisoned armor which could kill him.

He was as spry on his feet as possible, still getting hit and nicked at times, but far from the sort of failure one would expect of a poorly trained disciple.

Even so, Cang Qiong's disciples were losing faith.

“Isn’t this a sure loss? What is there to compete?”

Shut up, Qiong Ding disciple.

Eventually, even the demon side recovered from their stupor, jeering at Luo Binghe as he took and avoided hit after hit, no closer to landing a single blow on Elder Tian Chui than before.

The elder bellowed out a laugh that echoed across the area as he caught Luo Binghe with his hammer again.

"This little doll had better admit defeat soon and get off the stage! This old man can still leave you a life!"

A life. Not alive.

Being alive and living a life were two different things, with the context changing depending on who said it and what they meant.

Many of the mortals below were living a life. Those with crippled legs and blinded eyes were living a life of struggle more so than others. The wealthy and affluent could be said to truly be alive. The immortals, with the resources to pursue their immortality, could be said to be living a life worth being alive for.

For some reason, Shen Yuan thought of a human in a strange white room.

He heard beeping from several tall devices near some sort of futuristic bed.

The figure in the bed had short, wavy hair, some of it splayed on the pillow, and a clear mask-like device over his face.

He was pale, dark circles under his eyes, and when he opened them, they stared out at the window, the light too bright for Shen Yuan's imagination to see what was outside. But he could see it.

Longing. Desire.

A painful, reaching drive to leave the pale, beeping room and be alive.

Binghe will be alive.

He is alive, and he will remain that way. He need not accept the scraps of life some elder demon would throw at him. No, Luo Binghe could take it for himself.

With that in mind, Shen Yuan put power into his thoughts, and, mentally reaching out to the boy, he spoke to him.

--

'Luo Binghe, you will win.'

[rosiesdisneydrama]

Funny thought I had at work:

What if Donald's family (mostly his sister/cousins) did notice him grieving after Uno was shut down?

Donald is upset about something but very tight-lipped about what and why. Up until one of them manages to get him to talk a little bit about it. (maybe Feathery? He seems like the sort who'd try to comfort someone without judging them or by promising to listen no matter what) And then they all extrapolate/misinterpret the reason from the crumbs they worm out of him.

Donald, obviously, doesn't want to tell them that Ducklair shut down his AI friend, and kicked him out of the tower without giving him the chance to say goodbye. And he doesn't know if he'll ever see them again (if Ducklair ever reactivates Uno). It's something that he really doesn't know how to fix it or make it better.

What his family gets out of him are:

There was a secret floor to Ducklair Tower that Donald had a friend living in.

The friend couldn't leave the tower, or even that specific floor. They could only see the world outside through windows and cameras.

Donald's friend had a lot of respect/a previously very good relationship with Ducklair himself.

His friend is now "gone" and Donald doesn't think he'll ever see them again.

Ducklair's comments/behavior were really out of character compared to the previous times Donald had seen or spoken to them. Shockingly harsh/cold.

And, considering the wildness of their family, these facts get twisted in a really interesting way.

Eventually, after the rest of the family (I'm mostly picturing Della, Gladstone, and Fethry. Maybe Abner, for funsies) do some serious debating to piece it all together without upsetting Donald even more, they make a loose frame of what they think the core issue is.

The end result?

They think Uno is a secret son that Ducklair was hiding because he had serious health issues that meant he couldn't leave the tower. Potentially because whatever health equipment he needed was there and couldn't be moved. The specific tower he'd lived in had potentially been sold by accident and when Donald was registered as the caretaker of the tower the security system let him onto the floor that Uno had lived in.

Potentially, Uno was also the reason Donald kept bailing on them while he worked there. Because the super-sick heir lived in a super high-tech building made by a mad genius, so there was a non-zero chance that their cousin was beating back crooks and wannabe villains who thought they could steal stuff to attack the city there. They wish he had brought them in on it to help more if that was the case.

And, finally, that friend had likely passed away and Ducklair's mood change was potentially due to poorly handled grief. There is a small chance that Ducklair had pulled a plug due to not being able to find a cure but it's hard to imagine because the man never seemed the sort.

(Also, since they have no idea if Ducklair has ever been married, there is the possibility that his son was actually a clone because the man was a Mad Scientist and anything was possible with those types. Which could also explain why no one knew the son existed in the first place.)

But this is the Duck family, so this also played like it's a soap opera/telenovela. It gets wild, especially when Gladstone's luck brings Layla in and she fights to keep her laughter internal as she watches the trainwreck of errors from the cousins trying to piece together Donald's secret life.

Oh, and they also think Uno was Donald's boyfriend and one of the reasons he never told them was to hide him from Scrooge.

[visionthefox]

sams- is Eclipse mad Solar is Dead? is Eclipse healing? This is a ramble, may have errors and not make much sense but wanted to let it out maybe is me but.. I think Eclipse is also pissed off Solar died.. something on how he says it over and over, is not even to Just mock Moon, try to make him angry like is hold self would.. at first? sure - "isnt he the reason Solar died?" was asked in a more mockery tone.. but as the video keeps up, something on his voice just seems off.. and I know damn well davis KNOWS how to act with his voice, most times his tones arent a mistake.. no no he's been doing this for a long time now.. he knows.. but I feel he maybe does miss Solar? apparently they used to talk? in Eclipse has Returned…ALREADY!!! in VRChat- in the last moment Eclipse mentions Solar can and is better! he can do so much. Maybe is proyecting himself, maybe is hoping to get an ally? maybe .. just maybe he is deeply jelous on how Solar got more lucky and got Moon to see him as an equal.. something any OG fan know was the first thing Eclipse wanted from Moon.. old Moon.. YET also, had him hoping he could learn from Solar? he is mad the person who is supposed to be his better self is now dead, and he doesnt even get to revenge him and himself for now being left without purpose.. AGAIN ok hear me out, as much co co he's been so far. at moments Eclipse seems to actually understand he is the bad guy and seems to regret it, at times he admists he never HATED Lunar- we can assume he was mad for be backstab and thats it- at times he acts like he NEVER cared but soon that mask slip off.. is it wild to assume Eclipse is mad Solar is gone because he maybe finally found someone "like him" but not like him ? an Eclipse- a mistake- a broken AI but who got lucky? and this dude does listen to him and is kinda the reason Moon didnt do worst things ? idk why- I get the odd feeling the more Eclipse mentioned Solar death. it was more in angry tones - when Ruin mentions his data could be usefull, Eclipse does stop to listen- yet soon does attempt to kill him and is here when he does mentions in more angry tones Ruin is the reason Solar is dead.. is odd how is THAT the reason he is mad is not even

"this IDIOT bring be back to do THIS STUPID PLAN!" not a "he play me like a chess piece , just for this idiotic plan!" is odd for me- Eclipse was mad he was back alive- used like a puppet but when faced to the man itself- this motive is slighty pushed away ....... maybe is also how Moon is acting that also set him off? as much eye roll he does to Moon, maybe is him having to hear a bit of reality check that finally makes him NOT kill Ruin - he does finally LISTEN to Moon and does as told of course he will be pissy sassy bastard everytime they talk- he not only is the personality copy, he hold memories too.. at least few enough to hold some anger to Moon, specially after that therapy, Eclipse maybe still dealing with his old wounds .. but as much shit talk he does , he seems to be more open to listen to Moon. and eventually do as told without much fight.. there IS a Change- SLOW- and I want it this way.. so slow may be hard to see but is there..

[voidpacifist]

you can be afraid

word count: less than 1,000 || pairing: steddie || content warnings: nightmares/panic attacks (very brief)

note: I haven't done a oneshot in a long time and I can never seem to do a normal list of headcanons without it being almost novella length or something (wish I was exaggerating lmao). hope you guys enjoy this one!

•

The room is balmy, drenched in moonlight through the window on an August night. Eddie’s fingering through a book on story structure, at a particularly boring chapter, when it happens. At first, it’s just small noises, little grunts that don’t mean much of anything. But then one of them is punctuated with a sharp inhale, with a whimper, and that’s how Eddie knows Steve is having a nightmare again.

Their relationship is anything but conventional — they met on a blind date eleven months ago, decided they weren’t ready for anything serious, then met again just days later at a costume party. It should have been the end of things, if either of them were more cowardly people. Luckily for the two of them, neither of them are cowardly. Not in the face of anything, be it medical bills, or how they look in public, or who their circles of friends are, or the number of times they’ve argued in a month.

Needless to say, almost a year of close proximity to a person is a recipe for being well acquainted with their quirks, including the kind of quirks that are more hindrances than anything. Steve, his rough-exterior, never-needs-help, scary-seeming boyfriend who wears metal in his face and casually has a baseball bat covered in steel nails hiding in their coat closet, has never been an easy sleeper. It took him a long time to warm up to the idea of staying the night together, afraid he’d fling Eddie off the bed in the middle of a terror, mortified at the idea of him not being able to get back in on his own while Steve’s busy fighting off things conjured by his own brain. It took him a long time, but soon a week of trial with little error turned into a permanent nightly residence in a shared bed. His wheelchair is close by if he needs to escape a mess of wild limbs.

Eddie knows what kind of nightmare this is. Steve usually has two kinds — the ones where he can see, and the ones where he’s in the thick of the fight that rendered him sightless. This is the first kind, the kind where faces come to him in flashes, like phantom memories. It’s been three years, almost four if Eddie remembers correctly, since Steve has seen anything clearly at all.

He gasps awake, then is immediately dry heaving over the side of the bed. It’s disorienting for him, having memories distorted by reality in such a visceral, jarring way. Eddie sets his book aside carefully as he moves closer behind Steve on the bed.

“I’m gonna rub your back now, honey,” he says, keeping his voice soft in a way he reserves specifically for his boyfriend. “You have to try breathing now.”

Steve careens back up into a sitting position, his eyes darting wildly about the room, seeking a light source but not landing on anything. It’s heartbreaking, the way they never still, the way they’re always searching, searching, searching. As though even if Steve has accepted for a long time now that he’ll be blind for the rest of his life, his body hasn’t followed suit. It still remembers too much of the way it used to be. Searching, searching, searching.

“That’s it, sweet thing. You’ve almost got it.”

Steve’s breathing is like a whistle inwards, taking huge gulps of air and expelling them with a tremble. His hands grip the blanket with such force that his knuckles are white, that his arms are shaking. Eddie doesn’t remove his hand from Steve’s back, still rubbing in light circles, clockwise and counterclockwise and in other vaguely round shapes. Eventually, his breathing slows, quiets down to the point where Eddie thinks he’s managed to calm himself down.

He turns his face to Eddie’s direction, and Eddie knows Steve is seeing a vague, dark splotch where his silhouette is against the nightstand lamp. His other hand takes the hand Steve has offered, a plea to be grounded. “I’ve never seen you,” Steve cries weakly, and Eddie can feel something in him splinter.

“It’s overrated,” he says before he can even think about it, in a shoddy attempt to add something lighter to the darkness their bedroom has suddenly taken on. The laugh it pulls out of Steve is dry, humorless.

“I just…” he sighs. “I’m forgetting people’s faces and it scares me.”

God, it would scare Eddie, too. He can’t imagine not being able to picture Robin’s face. Nancy and Jonathan’s faces. Wayne’s face. He squeezes Steve’s hand once, a sign between them that means he’s been heard.

“You can be afraid, Stevie.” He swallows, ruminates over his next choice of words for a moment before deciding fuck it and blundering through it. They’ve never really talked about this before — not in this context, not with this much post-nightmare tension still clinging to the air, or maybe that’s just the heat spike of late summer. Whatever. “But you don’t have to be afraid alone. Feel it, feel all of it. Fuck, honey, just never…if you forget anything at all, just don’t forget we’re with you, okay? I’m with you.”

Steve reaches for his face with a muscle memory so impressive, Eddie’s tempted to praise him for it. He doesn’t have time before their lips are mashed together in an ugly, wet kiss. When they pull away, Steve’s wiping streams of tears from his cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, voice less fragile than it was before. He sighs, deep and hewn with exhaustion. “I’ll try to hang onto that. The…not alone part.”

Just like that, Eddie doesn’t think he can splinter at all. “Love you, honey.” He plants a kiss on Steve’s forehead, quick like a punctuation mark, enough to seal it like a promise.

“Love you too, Eds.”

He thinks, watching Steve fully drift off, that perhaps he’s bored enough with his book, eyes drooping just enough that perhaps he’ll fall asleep easily this time. It works better than expected — he stops knowing anything except his and Steve’s breathing as he wraps an arm around him from behind, as his head hits the pillow and the warm light of the room fades into an inkstain behind his eyelids.

The room is balmy, and no nightmares come back to take them.

[yanderes-galore]

We need a Sans from Dusttale yandere alphabet, please!

Sure! Here's more angst content, lol :) This was written on PC, I am sorry for any formatting errors. Due to plot, character, and how Alphabets work... I suggest reading the concept I did for him for a more in depth idea, lol (Sorry, Alphabets are getting repetitive to me so I'm just trying to get some old ones done.)

Original Concept Here

Yandere Alphabet - Murder Sans

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Forced affection, Stalking, Manipulation, Murder/Mercy killing, Death cycle, Angst, Mind break (Sans), Kidnapping mentioned, Trauma, Dark themes, Dubious/Forced companionship/relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Compared to usual Sans, this Sans grows to be more twisted with affection. For this Alphabet I'll do my favorite way to write Murder! Sans. He used to be just as affectionate as regular Sans, but due to the new Genocide loop... his affection is more deranged. He comes off more forceful and delusional with you in this AU. As a result, he's more intense. He hunts you down like a wild animal, treating you like you're his close buddy/lover... Only to kill you, apologizing for the action and promising he'll make things all better in the end.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Messy. This is a Genocide timeline, after all. Sans has learned to adapt and is often volatile. This includes when he's around his obsession.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Unfortunately, kidnapping doesn't come across Sans' mind in this AU. He's so focused on gaining levels and is so tormented at seeing his obsession die to The Human that he'd end up killing them instead. He's tried kidnapping in at least one timeline, though. He's tried to protect you, even if you hated him, but it always ends the same.

He wouldn't mock you, in fact when he thought the idea could work he wanted to protect and care for you... but now it just seems like a pointless idea.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

At first he doesn't want to, but eventually he learns he may have to if he wants his happy ending with you and those he loves.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Sans used to express his love for you openly, he used to be very loving like Classic Sans. However, when he was forced to watch you suffer... he couldn't bring himself to be so open and happy with you anymore. Nowadays he comes off as cold and crazy.

Always chasing an ending he may never reach.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He expects it, part of him feels upset... part of him feels joy... but in the end he wants things over with quickly.

He promises he'll make your death quick, he'll do this as many times as he needs to, he'll get you both a happy ending eventually.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and he hates it... but he can't blame you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

You never remember it, but it's no doubt the betrayal of Sans killing you... perhaps it's a blessing that you don't remember it... but it's a curse to Sans...

He's the one who has to kill you over and over and remember it, every RESET.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Eventually he wants to have a happy ending in a "Pacifist-like" timeline. He wants to spend that timeline with you... no longer dealing with the human... just you and him once again.

He hopes you'll forgive him for his sins... it hurts him to think of your countless deaths.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

This issue with this Sans is he doesn't have time to feel jealous. Perhaps at one point he'd playfully get jealous with you, seeming moody but eventually making up. Now? If he ever got jealous he could probably just kill them anyways.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Obsessive, Observing, Sadistic, Delusional, Manipulative, Volatile, and a little Caring... but such a trait has changed throughout the routes.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Originally, Sans would've probably had a healthy relationship with you in the past. Be that as friends in some routes, or lovers in others, you two originally got along fine.

However, when the Genocide Routes started, he kept getting worse. These routes sparked paranoia, delusion, and an overwhelming need to protect you. However, such feelings only got worse throughout the routes.

His obsession hits its peak when he realizes the only way to save his obsession is to kill them to be strong enough to defeat the human.

But... who knows if he'll even be successful in that?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Eventually, no.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Originally he stuck with isolation, restraints, caging you in bones... but soon punishment is the least of his worries.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Originally, none. But now you could argue that he'd take nearly all.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

I'd say he is patient to an extent. He originally was very understanding and patient... yet now he's a much different monster than he was before.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He's seen it hundreds of times at this point, at some point he feels a bit numb... but deep down it still hurts and he wants to move on so bad.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

When he still attempted it, yes, he felt guilty but knew he couldn't let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

The trauma of the Genocide Loop.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Part of him still feels horrible about it, but he tells himself it's "just one more time" and continues his actions. He loves you... but it must be done.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Unless you also want to attempt a Genocide Route or kill The Human... there isn't one I can think of.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Unfortunately, yes. Even if he hates it.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere. But... he clearly really wants to give you both a happy ending, even at the cost of your own demise.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He doesn't really pine.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Honestly, he's more broken than you but he'd break his darling in both ways.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Whilst I'm at it, if the cast decided to write fanfiction, would they write, what tropes would they be fond of and who would be writing the filthiest and freakiest of smut you can think of.

Ok so assuming everyone had to write one and they couldn't say no this is what I came up with

Takemichi- superhero fic, very cliche, follows pretty much every trope. It's dedicated to Hina too (she loved reading it). It's probably got something to do with a 4 leaf clover in the name.

Mikey- Writes fic about Taiyaki kun being the hero, probably a long adventure type story, taiyaki kun rides a motorbike at one point, it's a wild read.

Draken- He'd likely be very big on the found family trope, you just know his fic would be about some rag tag group coming together and bonding to the point of becoming family (the villian is probably based on Hanma).

Hina- oh definitely romance, the hero saves the girl, the girl saves the hero. She just writes the perfect couple and then overcoming any obstacles together in their way.

Emma- Romance #2, she writes the cutest fluff you can think of.

Naoto- Probably a horror mystery with plenty of occult themes and references. He looks key really enjoys writing it so it's probably a long multiple chapter fic, with a bunch of people following it.

Kisaki- Story about the hero however with a major plot twist towards the end showing the hero was actually the bad guy. It's actually very well done and clever despite how cliche it may sound.

Hanma- ok I see two possible ones here, either he takes it seriously and writes one of the most interesting fics ever (hey he knows whats exciting and what makes a good story) or he absolutely does not take this seriously and writes the smuttiest smut to have ever smutted and attempts to annoy the others with it.

Kazutora- i think he might do something a bit different and write it in letter format, as in character's sending letter's to each other. Letter's probably mean a lot to him and he's likely the most comfortable writing in that format so he uses it in his fics.

Baji- Cat story!!!!! There's definitely some kind of big cat fight scene (baji can't resist) but ultimately it's a happy story. He probably also makes a few spelling errors but it's ok since Chifuyu helps him correct anything. 

Chifuyu- Was tempted by Baji's cat story but settles on a person romance instead. It is full of manga references and the girl eventually kisses the guy after he gave her a polkadot based surprise. Probably a soul mate au.

Mitsuya- very detailed fic, like expect everything to have every last detail described (especially people's clothes).

Hakkai- space story! Probably a self insert about him going to space and being a hero (when he comes back mitsuya is incredibly proud of him).

Pah & Peh- They do everything together including fic writing. Definitely a story about two friends (them two), is a happy story about these two friends vs the world.

Smiley- fights, fights and more fights, everyone just wants to beef each other here.

Angry- I think he would write am interactive type fic, like the type where people comment and choose what they want to happen next, I just think he'd enjoy the interactions with people.

Mucho- coffee shop/ bakery au! Actually probably writes about his friends working there, izana is the manager, kakucho the assistant manager, sanzu is a loyal customer, mucho himself prepares the cakes, the Haitani brother's face the customers, mochi handles the drive thru and shion is the dishwasher who keeps breaking things. 

Sanzu- definitely a royalty au about a king and his loyal soldier. 

Inui- probably heavily use the miscommunication causes the main issue trope, he's seen it irl and knows it really can cause a bunch of problems.

Koko- probably a fix it fic, writes about a fire but this time no one dies, the girl gets saved and ends up happily living with her rescuer. This is probably actually something he uses to work through his regrets.

Yuzuha- a cute fic about a sister protecting her brother, she probably beats all the bad guys easily (and the brother's phone lockscreen is of the sister)

Izana & Kakucho- they work together to make another royalty au but this one focusing on the king and his kingdom, the story of this king creating his new world.

Ran- oh definitely a very obvious self insert story. The main character? Flawless hair, everyone loves him, has a little brother who adores him, dresses famously, treated like a celebrity. The guys name is probably like nar or something. Just basically his perfect life, tries to make it very poetic too.

Rindou- probably actually a song fic, the type with lyrics to match the mood. He just expresses himself a lot through music so brings it into his writing too.

Shion- another one with a self insert fic, this one really does go over the top though. Writes himself to practically conquer the world, winning every fight he gets into. 

Senju- Probably a fun adventure fic, I think she would also be pretty big on it being a family adventure/ a found family adventure. 

Wakasa- ok idk exactly why but he gives me those text fic vibes, where two characters are texting each other. I feel like he'd actually kinda unexpectedly enjoying making it too. 

Benkei- Another fic very high on the action, a lot of fights, the characters are likely based on the 1st gen Black dragons.

Shinichiro- Say's he's going to write smut but then gets too embarrassed and ends up with fluff instead. 

South- ok I think he'd also write a kinda lyric fic but instead of lyrics he'd just straight up put musical notes down. He's just so passionate about it and doesn't really care if others don't understand what those mean (he'd passionately explain it to anyone who asked though)