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#have grown attached to other characters more now but
feenixmork · 1 year
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Been far too long since I last drew my initial magireco fave
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princekirijo · 2 years
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I dunno do other oc creators feel this but it's kinda wild looking back on your OCs and seeing how much they've changed
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thedarkrose17 · 1 year
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I forget if there's any emotes where it's just arms down but I think these look ok :)
It's got pretty neat natural lighting in this location
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simpjaes · 2 months
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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2 (P.SH)
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Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part one | MINORS DNI
PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  
WORDCOUNT ― 21.8k
CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth
SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 
!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 
NOTE ― you must read part one to understand the story. anyway i did not mean to go in so deep with jungwon, i just really fucking adore him please forgive me. anyway, this is briefly edited. if you see a typo, shhhhhh, i don't wanna know.
tags under cut
smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 
other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“My love, let me.” 
You sit up only to be eased back onto the soft mattress. Pillows plush against your head as Sunghoon dabs away at each puncture he’s left on you. 
“You know you can’t sit up so quickly, just rest and let me.” 
You’re littered with his bites by now and you only grow more and more enamored with the feeling of it. Or, perhaps you just enjoy the fact that he’s fixated on drinking from you. Multiple times a day, until your fingers and toes are numb, until you can barely stand without dropping to the floor. 
Enamored through all of it, really. With the way he bites so gently only to suck harder and harder until his fingers grip and pierce through your skin much like his teeth do. He’ll hold you so hard through it, forcing arousal to run through you every single time he goes for that artery in your thigh. You think that’s his favorite spot to bite, if the dozens of wounds there are anything to go by. Truly, you’re enamored with him, always wanting to give him more just so he stays with you longer. 
You seem to have lost yourself in the lust of it all. The fantasy, the desire. On the brink of insanity, you know you’ve grown obsessed with what Sunghoon does to you, and it’s to the point that you don’t question yourself like you normally would. Your desire for this is too strong, far too intimidating to doubt. 
But since that night, he always leaves you with blood against his lips. Aroused, frustrated, confused. Never once letting a hand stray too far, never letting his lips trace anywhere but to your wounds or new expanse of skin that needs to be bitten. 
For days now you’ve been here. You lay here one full day since you were supposed to be back at work too, just waiting for the moment Sunghoon will do more than just drink from you. Mostly for a confirmation. It feels like you’re forcing yourself to go missing for this alone and every night you lie awake in this room waiting, wanting more from him now than you think you ever have.
The room you're in now is lonely, though adorned nearly as beautiful as the one you were in the night Sunghoon stole you away. You know the place you want to be is just down the hall, but your legs won’t carry you there no matter how much you try. He’s rendered you bed ridden and you miss it there, with his silk sheets and candle lit walls. 
Then again, maybe it’s not the room at all that you miss. Maybe it’s just Sunghoon.
You can’t help but note that when he’s on you or next to you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. But when you’re alone, you feel your skin crawl with such immense anxiety that you nearly want to scream out for him to come back. Several times already you have called out for him mere moments after he’s left the room. It gives you hope in knowing that each time, he does return to you even if just for a moment. 
All of it is very arousing when he comes to you, but it’s killing you inside to know that he does nothing more than feed off of you. You get nothing out of it but his presence, and perhaps he expects that to be enough. It’s driving you insane to give everything you have to him so willingly, knowing he hasn’t offered anything back to you. 
The fact that you want this, you want him, and you want to be the only blood he craves? It’s a feeling you’ve had to accept, because trying to deny it at this point would only lead you down a more destructive path. As if the one you’re on now isn’t already killing you, if not physically, emotionally. You want to be the person lying in his bed again so badly. You want to show him that you’re no longer terrified. You want to give him equal arousal and interest. 
But he doesn’t offer it. No, he simply bites. 
“I can do it.” You say to him in a frustrated sigh. “I’m not helpless, you know.” 
He’s taken aback by the way you rip the gauze from his hands, sitting up and scooting away from him when you dip it into the bowl of alcohol. Your head spins at the act, but you push through the weakness anyway, knowing he doesn’t like the distance you’re creating between him and you. 
You don’t like the distance either, but it’s helpful to know he doesn’t ignore it. 
“I’m aware.” Sunghoon narrows his eyes at the way your heart is beating for him right now, taking the gauze back from you and gripping your arm to pull you back and against him. “Why are you being difficult?” 
He cleans a wound just under your jaw as he looks at you, waiting for you to answer him. You stare back as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, not wincing at all like you previously had when he lets the alcohol burn the swollen punctures.
“Hah, so you can’t read minds?” You confirm for yourself, though you had the suspicion that he couldn’t. “You just keep doing this–” You continue, trying not to sound as if you’re nagging. “And nothing else.”
He tilts his head as he moves the gauze to another part of your neck, knowing full well what it is you want. 
“Nothing else?” He repeats in a sly question. “Is there more you want?”
You nod slightly, feeling the cold alcohol send a shiver across your skin, your head finally clearing of the dizziness just from sitting up.
“Name it.” 
Somehow, you lose the ability to ask for what you want. It feels silly to be mad that he hasn’t given you any sexual pleasure despite feeding off of you for days now. Is it insane that sex is all you want in return? Should you ask for financial compensation or something? 
“Ah.” He answers for you with an all-knowing smirk, his nostrils flaring as he inhales your scent. “You want pleasure, yes?”
“Do you not?” You ask simply, and he pulls back with the gauze to look at you dumbfounded. 
For a solid twenty seconds the two of you stare at each other before he’s dropping the gauze into the bowl and pulling you against him in full, turning your body so that your back is to his chest. His strong arms are still cold, but you feel warm enough against him like this.
“It pleases me to know you want it.” He smiles against the top of your head. “Unfortunately, I have other things to tend to.” He continues, pausing to hold you a bit closer. “I still have to feed, love, and I still need to maintain order here. I cannot just spread your legs every waking minute.” 
You’re not asking for him to fuck you every waking minute. It makes you feel as if he’s annoyed to even use such words regarding this. Still, your cheeks warm at his sweet voice. 
“As much as I’d like to.” 
Oh. Your cheeks aren’t just warm, they’re on fire at those words. You’d grasp at anything right now, despite feeling like an afterthought. You don’t like that you’re not a priority to him, even though he fucking feeds on you consistently. To the point you can’t even stand for a full minute without fucking fainting from blood loss. Still, you accept his words and try to think of the positives over the negatives. 
Unfortunately, you’ll never be satisfied with just his words and a mere ten seconds later you’re right back to questioning, doubting, and feeling upset. 
So he can feed this often, but not even slip a finger into you through it? 
Priorities. He has to feed, he said? Does he not already?! 
“Wait, Sunghoon, you do feed.” You argue. “On me.” 
He shakes his head at your ignorance of believing he’ll ever truly have enough of you. Even past death, he’ll never have enough. Which is precisely why you’re still breathing. 
“There are needs I have that you’ve yet to understand. You satiate the hunger, yes, but that is nothing more than a feeling, not a truth.” 
You try to comprehend his words but fall short. Only because that would mean–
“You’re becoming afraid again,” He comments on your heart rate. “Calm yourself, darling, the need within me is no fault of my own and I’ll continue to keep you from seeing the act take place.”
There’s silence from you as you try to calm yourself down. Of course he has to feed, but…is that not what he’s already been doing to you? Your heart isn’t racing from fear, it’s racing from–jealousy.
“So, mine isn’t enough?” You feel your heart shatter a bit when you voice it, knowing full well that for him to be full, he likely has to kill.
Why are you jealous? Well, if you’re so irresistible like he says you are, why does he hold back? Why are you still alive? Does your blood not taste as good as whoever else he’s been having at? Why does he keep you around, but no one else? Maybe they’re the ones who are irresistible, and you’re just a placeholder for if he can’t find his meal for the night. Maybe he’s just using you. 
“Hmm.” Sunghoon thinks hard at your question. “You’re feeling envious?” 
You don’t respond to him or the way he clocks your jealousy, and instead shake his grip off of you before grabbing the gauze yourself again.
He watches you take the material and dip it into the liquid, moving it down your legs and to the assault of wounds against your thigh. 
“You’re truly strange.” He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs, listening closely to the artery you have there, always so hungry for more but knowing he need not drink for the time being. After all, he’s just eaten. “Almost as unnatural as I am.” 
You have to force back a smile at the truth of his words though, softening at the way he compares you to him like the two of you fit together perfectly. The jealousy rages within you, but so does this strange adoration you have for him. 
“To think I don’t crave you? Have I not shown you already?” 
“Hmm, you might need to remind me.” You’re being playful now, trying to get what you want. Entirely thankful for the way he solves every problem you have with him in your head even if just for a moment.
You think you’ll always miss him on a deeper level than just sitting and speaking though.
“When can I leave the room?” You ask now, suddenly. “When can I come back to your room?” 
Sunghoon doesn’t fight his own smile, loving the way you stay of your own free will, even while upset with him for not giving you more than that single night of love making. 
“Not yet, love.” He mutters now, knowing that it’s not likely for you to be able to make it down the hallway without calling for his help, also knowing that he can’t give you what you want again so soon. 
“Oh.” You look at him, face falling. “Let me guess, because you have better shit to do.” 
“Still so envious.” He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’ll learn soon enough how I need you.” 
Just, not yet. 
After all, he drinks you until he has no choice but to stop. Multiple times a day, draining you until it’s near dangerous. The fact that you enjoy it drives him to do it more and more. 
You think it’s easy for him to utilize self-control around you? You think he doesn’t want to experience you in every way you can offer? With those pretty sounds you make? God, he misses the way your body hugged his cock so much. You’re out of your mind to think he’s holding out on you because he doesn’t want it. Because you're not good enough? Stupid, stupid girl. 
He needs it. He wants it. He’s fucking obsessed with what you do to him.
You’re truly not the only one trying to adjust to this situation. He has to be very careful with you, and having sex with you could very well break the resolve he’s forced into himself. A simple touch from you that feels too good could have him acting on a split second decision, drinking until you’re dead and cold, just like him. 
Essentially, he has to train himself to your scent and taste. Sure, he’s been fucking nearly every victim since his cock started working again, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’d rather it be you. In fact, the only reason he’s fucking them is to satiate the need to destroy everything that you are for his own desire of having you. 
The issue is that his drive to kill is insanely high, smelling you just down the hall makes every new victim taste better. It makes his cock fuck harder, it makes their bodies feel almost good enough for him to release. But they’re not you, and it’s rendering him unable to control himself. 
His recent victims? Oh, it ends so gruesomely. He feels overheated in the moment, drenched, fucking feral when he makes his kill. Wishing it was you, ignoring the scent of the person beneath him just to smell you from a different room. 
If he gets his hands on you when he’s in that state of mind again, you’ll be gone forever. That’s something Sunghoon wouldn’t be able to live with. Already he’s controlled himself through it once and that may very well have been the hardest thing he’s done in his life. He can’t promise that he can hold back again.
Until he can feed and fuck without feeling his instinct grab him by the throat, he cannot do more than small feedings with you. That alone is training all on its own, because every single time he feeds, he struggles not to take all of it. 
Bit by bit. Sunghoon has to take you piece by fucking piece. And your willingness to do it, entirely awake and aware, makes it all the more difficult. 
He can’t tell you this. Not yet, at least. You’d know the danger you’re in. Nor can he pretend like he will let you leave out of fear. He needs to keep this peace with you until he can truly enjoy you in a way that will ensure you’ll be alive and well after the fact.
And so, he changes the subject, grabbing you even tighter and hugging you in the way any modern boyfriend would. This. This is something he can handle.
“Are you bored of me carrying you across the room?” He asks. “Do you miss walking on your own two feet that much, if just to make it to my room?” He smiles now, making jokes with you that feel a bit dry when it hits your ears. 
“Are you implying that I’m a slut?” You laugh at his attempt to make you smile, slapping against his cold arm playfully. “That the only reason I want to leave this room is to come into yours and fuck you?” 
He shrugs from behind you, hugging tighter, wanting to be under your skin with that beating heart.
“Am I not right to assume? You little harlot.” 
Well, he got you there. 
And you laugh with him about it, living in your little fantasy world like this never has to end. Reality looms taller than Sunghoon does, unfortunately. 
He can feel your heart rate pick up when your laugh slows down. 
“But, Sunghoon, I can’t stay here for much longer like this.” You drop it on him like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and oh how he wishes you could just disappear with him. “I haven’t been home, my phone is there and I’m sure people have been calling.”
His eyes darken at your words as he pushes you from his grasp. Already you wish to leave? After complaining to him about what he doesn’t give you? Is that why you’re saying this right now? No sex means you’ll leave? 
Serves him right for not using the pull on you. He should have kept hold of your mind rather than relish in your willingness. 
“I’ve missed work already.” Your voice gets smaller as you watch him move from the bed and stand in front of you, the scent of cinnamon assaulting your nose along with his darkened and intimidating facial expression. “I– I’ll–come back. I promise.” You cower immediately.
Sunghoon shakes his head at you. 
“Did I not make myself clear?” He deepens his voice, unsure of how to handle his own internal panic. “Never have I let a commoner leave this cathedral alive and knowing the truth.” 
“Are you–threatening me?” You ask, scooting away from him and accidentally knocking over the bowl of alcohol with your foot. 
“Did you not just say you envy the others? Envy dying by my hand?” He questions you back, looming over you in an intimidating stance. Suddenly much, much taller than reality.  “Every time you’ve said you’d come back, you’ve done no such thing. Have I upset you this much?”
You frantically shake your head. 
“No, no!” You lift your hands in defense, reaching out to his towering figure. “I want to be here with you! You just said yourself that you have things to tend to, so do I! If I don’t show up at work, or at least have my phone, people will have the fucking cops out and looking for me!” 
Sunghoon softens, cinnamon air fading out within a second. He feels only slightly ashamed of his immediate outburst when all you can offer back to him is truth. Perhaps you’re the only one living in the real world, even if he’s been living in it for far, far, longer. 
You’ve pulled him into a fantasy, just like he has for you. He truly let himself forget that you’re no victim that’s meant to die. You can’t just disappear without question, and already it has been days. 
Still, you can’t just leave him. 
“I see.” He says, reaching down to grab at the hands you have clinging to his clothes in an attempt to calm himself more than you. “Shall I retrieve your device for you then?” 
You slowly nod, looking away from him and ignoring the fact that as much as you do want to be here with him, the fact that he just implied that you can never leave is a bit– um, intense. So, you don’t argue when you nod to him. If anything, to keep the peace.
“I’ll see to it that you have it in your hands by tonight. And in time, I’ll invite you back to my quarters.” Ending his sentence with a bribe to keep you here felt fitting, and he’s thankful for the way you accept it. 
You nod quicker now, entirely satisfied with his words when he steps back and away from you. 
“Now, please finish cleaning your wounds. I don’t want to taste infection in you.” 
Despite feeling better about it, wanting him still, those words hurt you. You feel insulted by the time he leaves you alone in the room. Like if you got an infection he’d simply lose interest in you, or perhaps end this love of your blood he has. 
He may even just go ahead and kill you if that were to happen.
It drives you to clean yourself twice over. Three times over. Unwilling to lose the feeling of someone biting you so gently, unwilling to die because your use to him has run out. And it feels like you clean yourself all day. To the point you’re probably making yourself more susceptible to infection rather than protecting yourself from it. 
And in this room, time doesn’t exist. There’s a window indicating where the sun is in the sky, but hours and minutes are meaningless. Only when the sun is up do you start counting, knowing that Sunghoon will only visit you during nightfall. 
You clean yourself for what you assume to be hours upon hours, all the way up until the sun falls and you hear the door creak open. You expect to see Sunghoon coming in for his routine of drinking from you, but instead, you find a pale-eyed nun rush to you with your phone and immediately leave after. 
A quick presence is gone within a moment, but you pay no mind as you look down at your phone. You’re thankful for the fact that it’s probably been on the charger all four days you’ve been gone. Considering, well, there’s no electricity this high up in the cathedral, you’ll have to save your battery as best as you can. 
So many missed calls. 
Even more missed texts. 
Dozens of emails. 
Jungwon.
In the morning after you left your apartment, he checked in with you. All throughout the day too. It wasn’t until that same night where his texts became frantic. A little, “i’m coming over, fuck you if you get mad at me for it.” followed by “are you mad at me? why won’t you respond?” 
You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
Really though, it hurts your heart to have forgotten about him entirely during your time here. Reading through his texts, you see him fight with himself over your absence. Up until yesterday, where he texts you from the museum. 
A glaring “stopped by again today only to realize your apartment was unlocked this whole time. i’m with your boss now, we are calling the cops if you don’t respond within the next ten seconds.” 
A full day late, you respond quickly. 
You: wonnie!!! i’m sorry! I got sad and went home to see my mom. totally ignored my phone…and forgot to lock the door i guess
You: you know, hormones lol 
Immediate spam. Your phone vibrates aggressively back to back with his frantic texts. 
Wonnie: you have to be fucking JOKING
Wonnie: NOT A SINGLE WORD FROM YOU. YOU COULD HAVE CALLED WORK OR
SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE ELSE’S PHONE. I WAS AT YOUR PLACE EVERY DAY.
Wonnie: i CANNOT believe you!!!!!!!!!!!
Wonnie: your whole ass apartment was unlocked and you weren’t there! anyone could’ve walked right in!!!!! are you stupid or something? 
Wonnie: are you home now?
Wonnie: i’m so mad at you FUCK
Wonnie: i got so scared
Wonnie: im coming over
You panic. 
You: wait, i’m not home yet. I didn’t mean to stay so long, I promise ill be home soon and fill you in on everything. 
Wonnie: call your boss. 
Wonnie: ill deal with the cops, then im gonna be waiting outside of your apartment
Wonnie: don’t ever fucking do that shit again, been crying all morning
Wonnie: i hate you so much right now, im never talking to you again
Wonnie: get your stupid ass back home 
You smile fondly at his worry, but the smile is short lived as you know you probably can’t leave here. Not only from the fact that Sunghoon appears to be unwilling to let you leave but you…don’t want to.
Still, you do need to call your boss, and you make quick work of it. Sitting dissociated through the mindless scolding of your terrible lie of an excuse, and then the following call from the local police department. 
Arguably, speaking to the police was easier than knowing you’ll have to lie to Jungwon again. At least the police are aware that you’re a grown woman who can disappear if she wishes. Jungwon, on the other hand, requires a little more care and consideration. 
You’re tired by the time you lay your phone down, unable to keep your eyes open as you drift off. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Some time later, you wake to the same familiar scent of Sunghoon wafting from under your door. It doesn’t process yet in your brain that you’ve not smelled it since the night you wandered from your apartment. But now? Oh, it’s strong. 
It’s very, very strong. 
Your drowsy eyes look to the door as your legs carry you there, and out you go. Down the hallway, straight to those big doors, straight through those big doors.
The scent burns in your throat the moment you step inside, blurry eyes witnessing two figures right there on the floor. The only clear thing you can make out are his darkened narrowed eyes, only because your brain refuses to process the act taking place in front of you at first.
He looks…rabid. Hair is a mess, sticky and dripping with thick metallic liquid. 
Oh, it sounds so loud. The squelching and the smacking of skin. Your stomach drops, the pit inside of it flourishing with nothing short of rotted desire. 
Right there on the floor of his room lies a woman seemingly experiencing god. Sunghoon is moaning with his eye trained on your shocked figure. He ignores the woman’s aroused grasps against his arms to keep his eyes trained on you. And he just…smirks through it, licking his lips, rolling his eyes back only for them to fall right back to you.
The squelching rings in your ears as he moves faster, feverishly chasing a hunt he’s already got lying beneath him. Almost as if catching him in the act aroused him more than he already had been. Like he’s showing you how much more he’d prefer someone else over you. 
He moans your name inwardly again and again, as if to call you forward to him but your feet can no longer move as you process the act with each call of your name. 
He’s fucking her. He’s devouring her. 
Not you. Her. 
You can feel your heart shrivel at the act when you stumble back, a twisting pain in your chest that you feel silly over. You barely know Sunghoon, but somehow it feels like he’s given you more of himself than he has anyone else. He speaks that way to you, anyway. Always with the words of “I’ve never done this, until you.” 
That was a lie. You’re seeing it now with your own two eyes and you’re paying for believing that you, somehow, could be special. And the pain in your chest travels all throughout your body at the fact that you let this man bite you. You let him take and take until you could barely stand, until you could barely think, until you were right on the cusp of death. 
And you still want to do that for him. But now? He’s grown bored of you. Perhaps he intends to let this woman live too. Perhaps she’s silly enough to fall for a sweet vampire’s words too.
You stumble back more, forcing your legs to work with you rather than against you. It’s like your body has a mind of its own when he smells so welcoming. Cinnamon, spicy, sweet, painful cinnamon. Such a suffocating smell, easy to give in to and grow weak for. At least for you, that’s how it feels. 
When you force yourself to turn around, only to continue stumbling down the hallway, your eyes work against you now too. You knew it would happen though and it’s not something you can stop. The burn and blur of tears prickling at the corners, your throat scratchy and sore. 
You try to hold it in, feeling as if life is being suffocated out of you all the way down. Down, down, down. Past the nuns, past the beautiful and intricate interior, and straight out of the big front doors of the cathedral. 
No goodbyes. 
The breezy night air smacks you hard, forcing a sobbed breath out of you. You dry heave for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut so tight just to try and regain control of yourself and your emotions. The images behind your eyes flash back and forth. You’ve not just witnessed death, but the pleasure of death. Well, if he kills the woman, anyway. 
And you still can’t fathom it. The way you feel, the way you’re reacting, the intense desire for death if it means Sunghoon wants you that badly. Never would you have guessed that a feeling so deeply terrifying exists. But it does, you’re witnessing it overtake the deepest parts of you right now. 
Fuck, you didn’t want to leave but you did. And now here you are, freed from a grasp that you still want so badly. 
Your lungs burn and your chest hurts more than the swollen puncture wounds all over your body. Everything is burning. It’s too, too, hot inside of your skin right now and there’s nothing more you’d rather do than to crawl out of it and freeze. 
Still, you do your best to control the emotions within you. You take a short look around only to feel the head rush hit you now like it should have when you stood from your bed. Right, the blood in your body likely isn’t enough to keep you upright for long and you know you’ll likely not make it to your apartment in this state. 
But you try. Your eyes are out of focus and your legs are clumsy as you try to walk. Down the sidewalk you go, until–
“Woah, little lady.” 
You hear Balor’s voice echo in your ears. The sound of safety feeling so, so far away. 
You can’t even thank him for it because your vision blurs more at the feeling of big, leather clad arms holding you upright, and then– you’re out.
You’re not sure how much time has passed by the time you’re able to hold your eyes open again, but when you do, Jungwon is here and so is that hot bartender you forgot existed. And as you try to comprehend where you are, you learn very quickly that you’re in the back room of the club with concerned eyes focused on..not your face, your body.
“Let’s get you home.” Jungwon’s concerned voice settles in your ears, and only now do you feel his warm hands soothing you against your shoulders. 
“Or maybe a hospital?” Jay offers, also inspecting your skin and the weak state of your body as you try to sit up. 
“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You say, immediately starting to cry out. “Please, just take me home.” 
And so, home is where you go. Jay drives both you and Jungwon there with a kind voice and worried eyes. You see him make the attempt to hug you before leaving, but Jungwon is quick to stop him with a small shake of his head. 
“Let me know when you’re feeling better.” Is all Jay says when he leaves, which, you’re sure he didn’t intend to leave but of course, Jungwon. You can see that he wants to be the one here with you and he insisted to Jay that he’s got you. 
It heals your heart a little bit, but doesn’t change the fact that you’re embarrassed for not only Jungwon to be pulled into your mess, but Jay too? 
You’re humiliated. 
And by the time Jungwon has undressed and redressed you, ignoring the intense smell of alcohol against your skin for now, he’s immediately lying next to you, clinging to you really. 
 You’re aware of what he saw when he removed your clothes. You heard the breath he took in, you saw his confusion at how the clothes you had on were very much not from your closet. He’s going to ask, and you knew he would.
“You’re really cold.” He says in a cracked voice, gentle and sweet as he tries to warm you up. “You weren’t with your mom, were you?” 
You weakly shake your head. 
“You were with that guy you told me about before.” He says now, grabbing you tighter pretending he doesn’t know just how many wounds you have under your clothes. He can’t help but hold you tighter, even if it hurts you.
“What did he do to you?” 
Your throat starts to burn as you cry again. You can barely process what’s happened yourself and explaining it to someone else only feels that much harder. 
The pulsing in your head is too much, you can’t even think straight right now. 
“It was–” You try to calm down, breathing in deep but avoiding eye contact. “It was consensual, don’t worry.” 
Jungwon’s eyes narrow, staring at the deep bite marks on your neck. He’s quick to lift himself up, ripping your shirt up and off of you without so much as trying to be gentle. His panic is blatant and he’s entirely unable to hide how pissed off he is right now.
“No, it wasn't.” He dead-pans as he presents your own body to you, his voice coming out harsher than usual. “You’d be out of your fucking mind to think i believe that this was consensual.” 
He glares at the swollen marks, unsure as to what to do with himself. 
“Fuck,” He scoffs your name along with the curse, throwing his hands up. “Fucking look at them.”
You turn away from him now, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively in an attempt to not peer at what you wish you could have more of. You know what this looks like though, and you’re really trying to see things from his perspective. 
But…It’s hard after everything you’ve witnessed yourself. 
‘It was.” You say again. “I practically begged him to keep doing it.” 
Jungwon falls silent as he counts. 1, 2, 3, 13, 25, 56, 72, still more.
“I wasn’t going to come home, you know.” You sigh out at the silence of his counting. 
More silence. 
“Was gonna stay and never leave.” 
“What? Why?” He panics more at the admittance, dropping down over you and forcing your arms from yourself, trying to pretend he didn’t re-open some of your wounds by tearing your shirt off of you. 
You can hear your best friend crying at the way you hide from him, all bloodied and bruised, but you keep your eyes closed even tighter. All he can do is lend you the entire weight of his body, enveloping you in all of his warmth and care, using his entire body to shield you from even the air in your room. 
“What did he do?” Jungwon pleads for an answer with a cracked whisper. He needs context. Anything to explain the state of you right now.
“You wouldn’t understand.” 
“What did he do?” He presses again, voice only cracking more as he cries along with you. 
“It’s more so what he didn’t do.” 
Silence again. 
“What did he fucking do?” 
You take in a deep breath, sighing out against your best friend’s fluffy hair, humming at his warmth and how much you’ve missed it. 
There’s nothing you can say to make him understand, all you can do is try because hearing him like this is, arguably, just making it more painful.
“I just really liked him, and I guess he didn’t like me so much in the end.” 
Jungwon chooses to take that at face value, opting to not let you out of his sight from this moment forward if he can help it. At one point with you, he was worried about being too clingy. Truly, he was afraid he would annoy you by attaching himself. Never has he grown so close to a person so fast and never has he gained such comfort within someone else’s bubble like he does with you. The comfort is still there, but no longer does he give a single fuck about clinging too much. You clearly cling too.
If you cling enough to let a man abuse your body like that, you’ll be able to handle him clinging just as much, enough to care for you, and enough to not fucking leave your side. He’s not going anywhere, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
After all, he’s not stupid, but he’s willing to act as dumb as you need him to if it means you’ll let him keep you within arms reach. In his head, there’s no way you fell into something with someone who could do this to you without reason, and it appears it’s not a question he’ll get a clear answer from you any time soon. 
It doesn’t matter if his installation will come to an end at some point. He can’t just leave you here when there’s some strange man running around biting the fuck out of people like a rabid dog. Abusing his best friend? No. He won’t have it and he doesn’t care if he has to force you to accept his protection.
He can’t do much for you, but he’s willing to at least be here with you. 
“Hey, it’s okay.” Jungwon soothes you, clinging tighter just to feel some of those reopened wounds bleed onto him. His voice is a stark reminder that there’s more to feel in your body than just pain. “I won’t let him near you again, okay?”
You nod, still crying as you cling back, trying to ignore the images in your head of Sunghoon. 
“Okay.” You lie, missing him too much already, the faint scent of cinnamon still in your nose. 
And you fall asleep like that. Warm. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You hate calling it an “escape.” You carried yourself out of that beautiful cathedral against your body begging you to stay. Still, even now with Jungwon clinging so warmly at night, you wish you had never left. 
Even the pain of seeing what Sunghoon does behind your back, the jealousy that came with it, you would have stayed if only to prove your worth to him. Being so close to death is exhilarating, and you find yourself feeling entirely empty and void of any emotion that brings joy because of it. 
This isn’t depression, nor is it simple envy. This sadness within you sinks lower than you thought possible, so deeply rooted within you that you feel death itself couldn’t even allow a safe escape. After all, if vampires are real, who's to say you won't end up as a tormented ghost forever searching for a man who can never die?
Damned if you live, damned if you die, so to say. You can’t have Sunghoon either way, you can only have him while suffering. 
And oh, how you miss the cold. You miss his cold. You miss the fear too. You miss the way he’d laugh with no breath against you and drink from your thighs like he needed more. You miss the way your wounds would pulse in pain and lend little reminders of the teeth that pierced them. Even now, they’re healing so well.
And it still hurts.
It hurts to know he said, while holding you, that he craves you. That he very much wants you but has things to tend to. The fact that he needed to tend to fucking other women while drenched in their blood? Things to tend to. 
Because to Sunghoon, real life women, breathing women, are minimized to things to tend to.
Fucking vampires. 
It’s been a week now since you left and it hasn’t gotten easier. During the week, Jungwon hasn’t so much as let you shower without the bathroom door open. You guess that’s fair. 
Still, it has only been a week. A week of everything moving fast, a week of Jungwon, a week of slow and dreadful acceptance, and a week of smelling nothing but faint, ever so slight, cinnamon. 
By now you know it’s him. Like he’s truly dug his claws into you and doesn’t intend to let you forget all that he took from you. Always that fucking smell, from the first night you met him until now. Yet he is nowhere to be seen, even when you stare at the cathedral after the sun goes down. 
No one has left. No one has gone inside. 
Part of you even found yourself worrying if he’s eaten. Hah. Funny.
Still, you’re forced to live in reality now. Nothing but healing wounds, meaningful days, and reminders that you let yourself fall as quickly and painfully as possible. 
You’re entirely dissociated, as if you’re gliding rather than walking, as if each day passes in a second rather than a twenty four hour time span, as if you’re truly empty now and not filled with the blood you thought meant so much. 
Somehow, you find comfort in the emptiness though. Jungwon fills the space as best he can too. He always accepts your rejections of going to update Jay at the club just to sit between your legs on the living room floor and try to make you laugh through silly faces riddled with concern.
You assume he’s in contact with Jay anyway, letting him know that you’re not quite dead yet. 
The days blur together now, up until two weeks pass, three weeks, four, five weeks.
Thankfully, by the fifth week, it’s gotten easier. Each day you just have to remind yourself that you can never forget Jungwon again like you did before. He’s the one who helped you through this, and to think you’d ever make him go through this again is insane. In fact, he’s the reason you finally feel good inside again. 
He’s like medicine, which is cringe and lame as fuck to say but it’s true. Internally, he’s made you feel better. Yet, right beside all those happy warm feelings lies everything else. Distress, sadness, anxiety. 
They still seep out of you too. Every night, really, after the daytime wears off and Jungwon runs out of things to distract you with.
“Why do you have to look at me like that?” Jungwon says sweetly, sprawled out on your bed in his pajamas as he watches you pace around your room. “I swear, it’s like everything I say to you goes through one ear and out the other.” 
You pause in your step, sad eyes reaching his face. 
“I already told you I’m not going home.” He repeats himself for what feels like the thousandth time to you. “I’m still getting paid, I have enough to last me if you let me stay here before finding work.”
After all, it’s not like Jungwon has anything to go back home to. Save for an annoying sister who probably wanted him to move the fuck out of her space anyway. He’s the last person on this earth to be afraid to up and move out with a near stranger.
You’re not so much a stranger to him though, and the need to be by your side far outweighs anything else right now. 
“Yeah, but, eventually.”
Never have you been one to worry about fleeting time. Never until you met that dead motherfucker. You worry about not what is happening, but what will happen. The inevitable. You no longer welcome it. 
It’s not death that brings the anxiety though, it’s just…the clock. 
With the ticking, the tocking, and the changing of seasons. Everything lasts both too long and not long enough. At this moment, the fear is Jungwon leaving at some point in your life. For any reason at all, really. 
He’s been by your side since you found your way back to him. A nuisance at times, yes, but you’re attached. To an unhealthy degree, you are fucking attached to him at the hip. He’s your only grounding force on this earth and you think he’s picking up on it. 
To the point he’s offered to drop his entire life an hour away just to stay for you. 
Yes, Jungwon recognizes how toxic and unhealthy the friendship has become, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just leave, nor does he want to. Even if he’s the one who leaves to get your mail, he’s the one who cooks, and he’s the one who holds you close at night, reminding you that time doesn’t have to mean a damn thing if you try hard enough to forget about the man who doesn’t experience it at all.
There’s no way you can get through a single day without him right now, and the thought of having to do it in the future scares you. 
You know it’s pathetic. You know you have no right to keep him in a box next to you as a comfort, you know he’s still got a life to live and romance to find. But…you hate it. 
“Eventually what?” He quirks a brow at you, having been concerned for you and the shift in your entire personality yet again tonight. You’ve changed for the worse, and it terrifies him to see you act so gone. 
“You’re gonna leave me here alone.” Your voice is small, cracking when you say it only because you hear the words ring in your ears. 
A pathetic whine, as if you’re speaking to someone else and not Jungwon. You’re not you anymore. No, you’ve become obsessed with the looping memories and feelings that took a mere four days to fall in love with. 
Addicted to emptiness but begging for Jungwon to forever be the crutch you stand on. 
You’re selfish and you have no fucking right to do this to him.
“Hey…” He rolls out of bed and steps up to you, easily putting a soothing hand against your shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?”
You nod. Knowing this same situation happens nearly every night. You panic, he soothes. You beg, he reminds you that he’s the one who offered in the first place. You ask him to stay, he confirms by asking you to let him.
And to him, he knows this is anything but a romantic partnership. You very much need someone here who is willing to play dumb but remain hyper aware. He wants to be this person for you because of his own selfish reasons too. 
It’s not all for you.
For one, he wants the girl back that he met last month. Secondly, he wants to see you learn and grow, because he knows you have a long and beautiful life ahead of you (and he better be fucking part of it.) And lastly, he’s never felt needed like this and there’s something in him that craves to be important too. 
It’s not too difficult for Jungwon to find people that’s important to him. Really, it never takes much. Perhaps someone held the door open for him, he’d probably jump in front of a bus for that person not two seconds later. But to feel just as important to someone else? 
He needs to be here with you. As toxic as it may seem to outsiders, Jungwon sees nothing wrong with being the person you need simply because you’re the person he needs too. 
“Then stop saying stupid shit.” He mopes now as he pulls you back to your bed and holds you much like he always does, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re always okay at work, but I swear the second we come home you’re falling apart.”
You freeze, falling apart instantly. 
“I wish you’d tell me what happened.” He says now, jumping into the typical routine of calming and soothing you. “I don’t know what to do when you get like this.”
You wish you would tell him too. 
But if he knew, that hope of ever seeing Sunghoon again would crumble. Already, Jungwon swears to you that he will never let this happen to you again. But you want it to, so, so badly. 
Even if you’re taking advantage of his care by letting him treat you like a child who can’t escape a tantrum, he really flipped his whole life because you chose to live in a crisis. 
You chose to do this to yourself and to Jungwon. 
Finally, you look up at him with your fingers gripping him.
“I ask so much from you.” You sniffle when you say it, immediately calming yourself and feeling like a fucking idiot for doing this. “I feel like I’m going insane.” 
He nods.
“You kind of are.” He confirms for you. “And you have to talk about it eventually, it’s just going to keep hurting if you don’t.”
He’s right. He’s always right. 
And like always, every single time you imagine how you’ll tell him, nothing in your brain can form a sentence. But you do try and by now, accustomed to your pain, you feel like something needs to be said before he grows tired of you too. 
“I don’t know why, but I wanted him to kill me so badly.” 
Saying it out loud doesn’t feel as good as you wanted it to, not with the way Jungwon’s face immediately contorts into panic.
“Wha-”
“But he wouldn’t do it.” You shake your head, refusing eye contact. “He’d do it to everyone else, but not to me.” 
“Wait, what?”
Maybe choosing to say that of all things was a mistake. After all, you did appear stumbling down the street near death already. Jungwon isn’t going to take what you’re saying lightly and you were stupid to believe otherwise.
“Have you ever smelled cinnamon?” You continue, trying to skew the conversation from his panic.
Jungwon is flipping his shit trying to make sense of your words. You wanted this guy to kill you? Well, he damn near fucking did and even now, while he’s not around, you’re practically dead already in terms of everything but breathing. And what the fuck do you mean he’d do it to everyone else?! 
Are you referring to an emotional death? Trying to make this shit sound poetic? Or did you really want to die? 
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jungwon’s voice is stern but shaky. “Kill you how?” 
You shake your head.
“I don’t know.” You offer, knowing you’re just making it worse. “I wanted him to want me that badly.”
Jungwon drops his arms from you to pull back, dead-pan staring at you because he doesn’t know what to do or say to that. He forces himself to think of the reality of the situation. You’re just being poetic. You’re just being dramatic. 
He’s the same way when someone hurts him too, but still. Using such heavy words scares him, and he can’t just sit here and tell you it’ll be okay anymore. 
“But he doesn't.” Jungwon musters up the courage to say it, knowing you’re going to cry. “This weirdo literally tried to eat you alive, and he still doesn’t want you.” 
And you do cry again. 
“And now, you’re letting him kill you anyway?” Jungwon scoffs. “You’re begging me to stay here with you, just so I can watch you not even make an attempt to fucking get over it?” 
You know he’s telling you what you need to hear, doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want to hear it. The only thing you want to hear is Sunghoon and his lying words, telling you that Jungwon is full of shit. 
The worst part about it is that, it’s not even that you’re suicidal. You’re not. You like being alive. You’re just…you don’t know. You don’t fucking know why you wanted and still want Sunghoon to kill you.
Perhaps it’s because it would mean he needs you that much.
But he doesn’t need you, you’re not irresistible. 
And that hurts you. That man fucking slithered into your heart and made a nest there. You can’t get him out no matter how much you try. 
“He broke up with you. You were together for like, what? A few days?” Jungwon minimizes the situation unintentionally, panicking at the way a person he’s grown so close to has managed to be utterly fucking ripped apart by a singular man. “He broke up with you. That’s it. It’s time to stand up and move on, there’s better people out there that–”
“No.” You shake your head. “I broke up with him, I guess, if you can call it that.” 
Jungwon softens, tilting his head. Now he’s getting somewhere. 
“Why, then? Why did you break up with him when you didn’t want to?” Still, Jungwon is glad you chose to. Clearly you’re not as absent minded as you pretend to be. Seeing how littered your body was with pain, you knew you needed to leave, right? You weren’t really just going to let this guy wither you away, right?
“He was with someone else.” 
Jungwon shakes his head in pity. 
“What a scumbag. A total freak.” 
“But like, he needed to do it, I guess.” You try to explain without truly explaining. “I got mad and left because he was doing something he needed to do with someone that wasn’t me.” 
“He needed to cheat on you? Are you hearing yourself?” Jungwon questions, throwing his arms up. “He’s a nympho, babe, he probably manipulated the fuck out of you to make you think this way.”
And at that, you give up on talking about it. You feel too tired to continue. 
“I guess so.” You whisper out with a shrug, sniffling up the tears.
“He doesn’t deserve you. You can’t just…die for people.” Jungwon says, realizing that even he doesn’t follow his own advice. He’d probably die for you himself, but not because he craves it.
He’ll never understand why you wanted this man to “kill” you. In whatever way you meant, no one is worth owning that much of you. 
Jungwon hums though, knowing you’re tired now. He isn’t exactly being as soothing as he’d like to be right now but never has he seen a person act like this over a break up. Cheating hurts, of course, but you barely knew this guy. There’s no way there isn’t something else going on for you to say such insane fucking things. 
“You must’ve lost your damn mind to let someone do that to you.” Jungwon says against your hair, his soft voice not matching his words in the slightest. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Me either.” You admit, feeling the insanity bubbling in your stomach and hating it. 
Still, the scent of cinnamon. 
“Do you smell it though?” You ask now, voice even weaker. 
Jungwon inhales deeply, releasing his breath with all of the frustration in his gut.
You feel it fan across your cheek warmly, minty, and you smile. 
“Cinnamon?” He asks, remembering your question from before. “Yeah, sometimes I can smell it.” 
You smile bigger now. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Another two weeks pass, only this time you are coming back to yourself. Which is strange, really. You were beginning to think you’d never feel like a person again after the first month passed. Then, within another few weeks you’re almost entirely back to yourself. 
You’re still a bit dissociated, which is likely due to the trauma of what you experienced and put yourself through but thankfully, the ticking-time spans you grew to hate forces itself now to be your new form of comfort. With each passing second, hour, day, and week, you’re slowly able to not forget, but accept and move on. 
Still, you know it’s going to fuck you up for years to come. You’ll always have the feeling of emptiness deep inside no matter how much the space shrinks. You have no choice now but to try and fill your life and time with things and people who matter to you. At least this way, you know that you matter too. 
And with this time spent away and healing, the scent has faded too. You can even go to work now without holding your breath or your eyes being forced to look at the source of the smell. In fact, you avoid taking even a glimpse of the looming cathedral. You don’t keep cinnamon in your apartment now either. You don’t take it with any of your beverages or food items, and you certainly shouldn’t be smelling it in the air anymore. 
Sometimes it’s still there though, turning your stomach in a way that’s both needy and sick. You still miss him and the feeling of ice, but you know better now. Why give up the ability to breathe without your throat burning? Why give up being a person that Jungwon actually wants to be around now? 
After all, you’ve started feeling so much better to the point that even he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time. Showers are back to being private, you can check your own mail, and a few times you were even able to go to work without him trying to force his way inside like his installation was still sitting on display. 
Which, it isn’t, by the way. Your boss had his name and face blacklisted, but still on most days he waltzed in like he owned the place. Every single time buckling the knees of your boss, every single time being allowed to stay. 
Thankfully, push came to shove and he landed himself a job there with you, his employment became official just today, actually. And as professional as the place was for you when you approached with your resume, it’s definitely not professional at all. They did pay Jungwon under the table several times just for doing shit you were supposed to be doing. 
The point is, even if Jungwon wasn’t able to make the effort to keep good on his word regarding moving into your apartment to stay beside you, he still likely would have pushed to at least work with you. 
Thankfully, he gets to do both those things. 
And despite the fact that he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time, there’s still an immense amount of anxiety about being away from you for too long. He knows that in time, it’ll pass and the two of you can live both near each other and apart, but for now? Might as well call him your husband because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna be doing his own thing without you. 
That leads to now. The same day Jungwon secured his employment, the same day you made it through without a single breakdown, the same night Jungwon needs to actually go back home to move his shit into this apartment with you.
“Come with me.” Jungwon comments, but you know it’s more of a demand. “You can meet my sister, just ignore if she makes jokes about us dating or something.”
You laugh. Genuinely, you laugh.
“Jokes? We both know you’re in love with me Jungwon. I’m just waiting for the ring at this point.” 
He laughs with a shrug, knowing he probably would marry you at this point, if just to protect you from all the people who wouldn’t care for you as much as he does. 
“Really though, come with me?” He asks again. “I’m still a little worried about leaving you here.”
“You’ll be back in the morning,” You start, trying to calm him down. You genuinely do feel okay right now. “I’ll just be sleeping the whole time, I'm tired anyway.”
Jungwon nods fondly, aware that it’s only practical that he make the move during the night hours. After all, his sister won’t be home otherwise and he does miss her. It’s true that you’ll probably just go to bed and he’ll be back before you even wake up tomorrow.
Still.
“You could just sleep in my old ro–”
“Wonnie.” You walk up to him and grab his face with both hands. “I’m fine.” 
He smiles at you, always loving the way you do your best to reassure him even through your worst breakdowns. You’re not breaking down right now though, and he can’t help but believe every word you say when you’re looking at him like this. 
“I swear to god if I come home and you so much as have a single bite mark on you, I’m burning this fucking city to the ground.” 
You roll your eyes, the memory stinging only a little bit. By now though, you’ve almost entirely forgotten how it felt in the first place. 
In fact, you’re shocked by the way you acted after leaving. So outside of yourself. Truly, you think you were going insane and Jungwon was right to confirm that for you. You’re lucky you had him here with you, because you likely would have ran right back into that fucking cathedral and–
Yeah. You would have done something dramatic. 
You didn’t though. And sure, you now know vampires exist or whatever but Sunghoon has not bothered you even once since you left. You hope he’s simply moved on so that your resolve doesn’t break. Jungwon worked so hard to make you feel better, and you worked just as hard. You can’t just feel bad that you don’t remember what Sunghoon’s fangs felt like against your skin.
If anything, you hope Sunghoon is freaked out by you leaving and knowing his secret. Maybe he thinks that if he tries to approach you again, you’ll tell everyone about what he is and what he did. Not that it would end with him in jail or anything. You’d probably end up in an asylum, actually, but still. 
And to Jungwon’s threats of arson, you simply pinch his cheek, being sure to sit your thumb right in his dimple. 
“Strictly no vampire kinks.” You smile at him, crossing both of your arms in front of yourself to create an X. 
“Good.” Jungwon nods back as he puts on his shoes and heads for the door. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll keep my volume turned up. You’ve got Jay’s number too, he can be here quickly if it’s an emergency.”
He feels content knowing that you’re about to be stuck with him for as long as he can manage. It’s just one short trip back home. A mere six or seven hours spent away while he packs the shit his sister probably “forgot” to box up for him, loading up the rented van, and then unloading it here. 
It’s just a short trip. You’ll be sleeping through it anyway. 
And when he’s gone, you feel tired. Keeping good on your promise of going to bed almost immediately. The feeling of being alone for the night is a bit uncomfortable, so sleep comes easy as a means to escape the inevitable over-thinking you’d probably do otherwise. 
No overthinking. 
It’s just a short trip. 
Jungwon will be back before you wake up. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Ah, to think it’s over. 
To think he’d leave you be? To think he wouldn’t be looming around every corner watching, waiting? If it weren’t for Jungwon, these weeks wouldn’t have passed so easily for you, that much is certain.
As if they were easy for you to get through at all. Jungwon, the very person who got you through it, was the reason he stayed away, the reason you were able to heal. 
Jungwon was the ward.
Was. 
Deep in your sleep it’s like your body knows. The same scent fills your nose just seconds after your sleep brain feels the goosebumps spread across your skin. Instantly, you wake up and back to insanity you go
You truly wake up. 
Your legs aren’t being carried by any force other than you own, and your mind is crisp and clear in your thoughts as you jump out of bed. 
Not walking, running to your apartment door. You swing open the door and don’t even look at him before slamming your entire weight against his chest and clinging like a lost child. You can feel the familiar cold fear filling your body, knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could kill you right now. 
All of the progress you made burns away within seconds. You’ve never felt so elated to ruin your own life. 
Even when he pushes you away, nothing at this moment could make you let him go. He’s here, he’s standing right there. Your fingers grip as he pushes you back in silence, stretching his garment out far beyond the bounds of which it was sewn to withstand. It rips, and still he shoves you further back from him all while stalking forward. 
Walking you back into your apartment, just to let the door slam behind him as he stands with a narrowed gaze fixated on you. 
You glance up at him only for a moment, loving the crazed look in his eye. Adoring that he must have missed you to appear so full of life like this. You can only compare his eyes now to the same eyes you saw when you ran away from him. 
As if they were burning on you. Or perhaps, for you? 
He’s dangerous, your body feels it instantly and all you can do is lean into it.
“That’s all it took for you to leave me?” Sunghoon bellows out in a spiteful voice, the sound sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “Had your blood boiling over some minx? I told you I didn’t want you witnessing it.” 
You soak in his voice like it’s your last supper, missing it so badly, adoring it even more. He speaks as if weeks haven’t passed, as if it’s a mere hour after you ran from him. You move forward to cling again, unable to think of words to say and opting to show how much you regret leaving through your actions.
Still, he pushes you away from him. A bit harder this time, to the point you almost topple over onto your back. You keep your balance only because it feels like you’re fucking floating just looking at him right now.
“I tried to pull you back to me, why did you fight it so hard?” He continues to fuss, as if he’s been thinking over and over again about all the words he wants to spit at you. Like he’s punishing you, and yet still struggling himself not to cling back. “Never has your aroma been so empty, so faint.”
You’re in shock but your body yearns for him, thankful to go back to square one. Like you’re special. Like you meant something enough to him that he’s here looking like he may give you what you’ve wanted all along. 
“Countless women. Countless men. Never you, and now you manage to hide from me?” His hand shoots to your neck, pushing you back further into your apartment. “How?” He grips dangerously tight as he continues to spew his breathless words. “You masked yourself with that– that floral boy, didn’t you?” 
You listen to his spiteful words like your favorite song, falling into each vibration of his vowels and consonants. Never has he spoken so much, and never have you heard his voice waver the way it is now. You can’t help but follow his movements with a smile on your face, swallowing through this tight grip on your throat. 
“You cannot fathom how hard it was to stop. Do you understand how much I want to fuck every last drop out of you? You should be thanking me.”
Oh, you’re so proud. So, so, fucking proud. The glee runs through you at his needy words, even if you know better. He’ll always feed on people who aren’t you, and he’ll always probably fuck them too. 
But does he show up at their house? Does he grow frustrated with them like this too? 
“Did you kill her when you were done?” You ask out through his choking hand, so confident that it makes him freeze on the spot.
He’s genuinely shocked that you’re not scared. You’re not intimidated. You don’t feel bad. No, you feel proud of being hunted. Like you take enjoyment out of his suffering, much like he does for you. 
On his part, it’s not intentional. You have to suffer to be next to him. 
Never has a person made him suffer too though. Fucking never would he have allowed it. God, he’s infatuated with you, utterly obsessed.
“Of course I killed her.” Sunghoon admits with his brow rising up, feeding into your ecstatic reaction of his death grip on you, only gripping tighter now. “Does that please you?” 
You’ve never been happier. 
And he moans out at the way you shyly nod, seemingly experiencing euphoria at his admittance of murder. Oh, if only you knew how good you smelled that night. Blood pumping for him, blood boiling in emotion for him. The woman didn’t last more than a minute after you left him. He couldn’t resist at that point. 
Seeing you, smelling you, fucking someone who he wished could have been you. 
He’s not prepared at all for this, for you. So willing, wanting what he’s trying to avoid doing to you.
That’s why he’s here though. Unprepared, but unable to resist any longer. He has pulled and pulled, every single day trying to lure you back to him against your will. He thought he was going to have to take you tonight against your wishes. 
But your eyes are sparkling for him. 
“No one’s heart has ever beat quite like yours when looking at me.” Sunghoon whispers now, falling and spiraling into this moment with you, losing his composure entirely. “So loud, each pump fucking gushes.”
“And I'll chase it every time.” He continues to ramble in a way that sounds like he’s in physical pain, like the amount of time you’ve stayed away from him genuinely hurts him. 
You still can’t respond though, your words are caught up in your throat right where his hand squeezes and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He knows it too, and he didn’t intend to let you answer anyway because genuinely, he’s fucking losing himself. 
His hungry lips chase forward near instant after saying those words to you, not biting, just kissing. Tasting you rather than the blood that drives him. 
Because for some reason, that’s what he craves right now. 
“I beg.” He cries out against your tongue, relishing in the feeling of your life clutched in his hands, not even sure himself of what he’s begging for.
“Sunghoon,” You choke out his name with a gentle voice, pulling back from his bruising lips and throwing your arms up around his shoulders. “I bet you could smell my heart shatter too.” 
He moans at the strained words first and the out of body experience you lend to him second. His soul is always trapped within this dead skin, but you ascend him. 
Here, standing with his hands on your throat, you hold him? You say sly, mocking words? Oh, he can give you the world. He can give you anything you want. He can be whatever you want. Never has a person had this hold on him, and never could another person be able to do what you do. 
He can’t just let you go. He tried already. He’s supposed to be the one with the ability to hunt, lure, and pull. How is it that you do it to him? Your blood alone does it. The fact that all you need to do is exist within the same city and he’s ripping his bedroom walls apart wanting to get at you? He needs you. 
No. You’re not going anywhere this time. He’ll give up the taste of your sweet blood if he has to. The taste of your wet tongue is enough to satiate him by this point. The feeling of your neck beneath his hands, your pretty eyes urging him to strangle the life out of you.
He’d do it too. All you’d have to do is ask. He would do anything for you at this moment, no matter the cost. He will take anything you offer.
“Oh–” He groans first, licking his lips. “I could almost taste it.” His eyes darken more, somehow, as he leads you through the apartment. All the way until that same gaze causes your legs to buckle. He can’t help it by this point, after all, he knew coming here would end up this way.
There’s no self control when his hands release your neck, your buckled legs forcing you to fall against the floor, and he gladly topples with you. His hands immediately shoot to either side of your head, holding himself up just so he can dip down and inhale you. 
Fuck, he missed the way your skin smells more than he remembers. And trust, missing you was a daunting experience for him before he got here.
He inhales all over you, again and again. He trails his nose against both sides of your neck, up your cheek, into your hair, down to your neck again.
“So delicious.” He moans mindlessly. “Never have I missed someone so terribly.” 
“You were with someone else.” You continue your confident scolding with a scoff, only because of the way he’s losing himself on you. This is all you could ever want and reminding him of why you left feels elating. 
“My love,” He starts, speaking right up against your ear as one of his hands trails from your cheek to your waist. “My loyalty to your life is what I offered.”
Goddamn the confidence running through you smells stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. As if you didn’t already drive him to do things he never once considered. Oh, now? With you like this? He would die ten times more for you and you alone, if he could, anyway. 
“Do you not recognize that I would have drained you to death, if I didn’t want you here with me?” 
He lifts his head now, looking at you with so much adoration. 
“You’re not a simple meal, when will you understand that?”
And when you snicker at his desperate praise, he cannot fucking control the feelings within him.
“Your little floral friend is going to be devastated,” He admits with a rumbled voice, alluding to the inevitability of him coming here tonight. “You’ve begged me for this, and now I’m begging you.” 
You pause, feeling the butterflies in your stomach release in a deep breath. 
“Die for me.” Sunghoon whispers, dragging that same wandering hand straight between your legs and dipping into the wet heat he’s been missing so badly. No blood, just thick, hot, wet slick. “I beg.” 
You can barely comprehend his words through that ice cold feeling of his fingers pressing into you. He hums in the silence, looking straight into your eyes with the question. He’s very aware of the weight behind it too. 
“My love, please.” He continues, losing composure by the seconds as he feels how warm your wet walls are hugging his fingers. “Not in a thousand years have I wanted someone more than you.”
He continues pressing his fingers in, moaning himself at how good it feels, only to feel your moan fan against his cheeks in turn. It’s something that drives him only further from the self-control he fought so hard to keep. That warm breath represents the life within you that he intends to snuff out. If at all, to keep  you forever. 
“And not for a thousand years more–” He’s starting to babble, his once clear thoughts racing at being surrounded by everything that is you. “Please.” 
And his fingers only quicken with his thoughts, rendering you unable to answer even if you tried. The idea and confirmation in his head of not truly killing you drives him wild. It would be death, nonetheless, but not true death. For weeks he has suffered over the thoughts, always telling himself that he would never fate someone to a death such as his own. 
But you, oh you. The sublime blood within you pulled him harder than he believes he pulled you. Never in his thousands of years has he experienced such a thing, nor did he know such blood existed within a person. It drives him to feel for you. To adore you. To be entirely enamored with the fact that you have shattered him from within at both the thought of losing your blood, but wanting to take all of it. 
Still, he craves the taste of you to such an extent that you truly will die tonight, whether it’s against your will or not. It’s too late for him to reason with himself, feeling your walls wrapped around his fingers, seeing you act so mischievous towards his antics from before. At this point, just a blink of time compared to how long he’s lived, the decision is clearer than anything he thinks he’s ever had to choose. 
If he can’t have all of your blood, you’ll waste it on a death not nearly as beautiful as he can offer. 
If he can have all of your blood, perhaps he doesn’t have to lose you along with it. After all, it’s not just the blood at this point that makes him feel like a blood-drunk beast. No, no, no. It’s everything that is you. Your skin, the secretions of your body, the way your hands grip and the way your eyes blink. Blood-drunk, yes, but more so just drunk on you.
He can settle without the breath and without the blood if you’re willing to share meals with him for the remainder of time this earth has in the universe. 
Sunghoon’s mind is racing at the thought. Working too fast for him to focus on everything at once, but he tries. Tucking his fingers deep, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling as deeply as he can. 
You’re feeling like you’re on top of the world in the way he falls apart on you, unable to comprehend that this is actually happening. Every word he’s said to you rings in your ears as if it were spoken in a language you can’t understand. With his fingers working you open, with his lips on your skin rather than his fangs…
You feel…different. Like he feels differently. 
And you can’t stop yourself from basking in the thought that he killed that woman. What was once jealousy that he didn’t want you enough to kill you has twisted and morphed into the thought that he kept you alive because he couldn’t stand not having you.
Every whispered word confirms it, and still you can’t comprehend fully what it is he’s trying to say. 
So, you focus and try to comprehend the feeling in your body that he’s offering instead. You have yearned for this cold within you. Missed it so badly you went insane. 
To think you’d ever truly get over him is arguably more insane than wanting him to kill you at all.
“Did you hear me?” He whispers against your ear, shoulders shifting with each plunge of his fingers, other hand clinging to your waist so tightly, almost pulling you to him. “You could be beside me,” He moves his lips across your neck, resting his lips against the moan you let out. “Forever.”
Oh, it clicks. 
And just as it clicks, he can hear your heart rate gushing the same blood he intends to take from you in full. Gushing, rushing through each vein and valve within you. Oh, he could truly devour you whole with how you’ve deprived him of this. He could leave not a trace of you left for the world to remember, but no. That would be worse than the beheadings that haunt his nightly visions. 
The sound of it rushing through you, god, it makes him feel like a mad man. He can’t help but prevent your timid answers in the midst of red hot desire. He pulls his hand out of you, spreading his palm against your healed thighs instead and spreads your legs out wide from under him. 
He’s quick to move down. No kissing, no biting, nothing like what he wants to do. He needs to satiate his desire somehow, and he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your blood until the time comes. 
And when he pulls your sleep-shorts and panties off of you, he’s immediately licking a languid stripe up your glistening cunt. He remembers how it looked in red, the thought sending his body into overdrive at the taste of you now compared to that night. 
Still so sweet. Almost as good as the blood. Ah, it serves as a reminder that perhaps he can give up the blood after taking it from you. This alone is enough. So creamy, so slippery. 
Yes, yes. A confirmation. It’s you, not just your blood. It’s you he won’t live without. Your mind, your voice, the wet you spill, the cum you’ll let him fuck out of you. 
It’s always you. 
And he hums into it, licking into you as far as his tongue can manage. He braces both hands on your thighs just to spread them further, skewing his head to reach deeper, deeper, fucking deeper. Tasting you, smelling you, utterly obsessed with you. 
All you can do is shoot your hands down, forever waiting to feel his teeth sink into you but only feeling pleasure. So much pleasure. All of his freezing body parts just send consistent shivers up and down your spine. It’s like you can feel him under your skin when he does this, even with his hair tangled in your fingers as if you’re appreciating him for all of it. 
It’s so good. With the way he doesn’t need to breathe. He keeps his tongue in you, and even still you feel as if you don’t need your clit stimulated at all with the way he’s working his mouth so aggressively. And it’s good with the way his fingernails dig into your skin not yet enough to cause blood, unlike before. Good with the way he hums into you through it all, the same way he did when he’d feed on you.
Ah, it’s just, it’s good. It’s dreamy. All of it feels like a fantasy up until he does pull back. 
You look down in time with him looking up, those pretty eyes no longer looming and dark. Still crazed to an extent but you know they’re for you. 
“Sunghoon,” You whisper out, watching him closely with the way his eyes roll back at even hearing his name on your tongue so prettily. “Why aren’t you feeding?” 
You feel his fingernails leave more half moon shapes in your skin at the question. His eyes open in a half-lidded stare at you now, lips falling slack.
He looks so pretty, with the wet coating of his plush and pretty lips, your hands still tangled in his hair. 
He still just looks at you. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, and doesn’t answer. 
“You’re so quiet now.” You comment, feeling shy with the way he stares at you rather than your open pussy right in front of his mouth. “Say something.”
And within a single blink, his face is right up against yours, one hand still keeping your leg spread open, the other pinching your chin as he continues to stare.
“Let me have you.” 
You hear his words clearly this time, breath caught in your throat up until he kisses it out of you. He breathes you in deeply, trying to drown himself in all that is your life before what he will inevitably do. 
“Let me.” He pleads again, his eyebrows falling as if he’s in genuine pain to say it. 
Your arms reach around his neck, staring at him with so much confirmation in your eyes. You’d let him have anything he wants. Anything. 
And he groans at you, releasing your chin just to reach down to get his length out, appearing as though looking at you like this alone is enough to make him crumble to dust. He’s been aching this whole time too, since before he even left the cathedral. Borderline edging himself from both the pleasure of your body wrapped around him and the pleasure within you that would satiate his hunger just for a moment. 
He misses the feeling of you so badly. The warmth, the slide, the way you cling to him like nothing he could do would scare you. 
Just….one last time, he wants to feel warm. 
And he chases for the heat inside of you, sliding in without breaking eye contact, without waiting, without savoring it. 
It knocks the breath out of you again, forgetting just how cold it is when he settles in deep. So fucking deep. 
You wince in pain before moaning out to him, whispering his name in a drawn out sigh.
“Ah, my love,” He groans at your reaction, his hips immediately moving. “My pretty, pretty, love.”  Your walls hug him so perfectly, taking every inch with just a tiny wince.  “Will you still sound so lovely?”
You don’t understand the question, but you nod to him, wanting nothing more in this moment than to prove your worth to him. To please him. 
Such an insane woman, he thinks. Letting him take you and have you in whatever way he wishes. Whether living or dead, he truly believes every mindless nod you give to him. It’s clear, you’re just as deeply infatuated with him as he is with you.
Both of you would give and take happily, no matter what it is. 
And fuck he can feel your living pulse against him with each fast and torturous thrust, snapping his hips so quickly into you. He can’t help but fuck hard and with purpose. Slamming in and out with echoed slaps and mindless groans. 
Everything that you are could end him in an instant and all you can do is moan out for more. 
Oh, he gives it. Of course he does. He will give you anything. Everything. 
And it only becomes harder to resist when he kisses against your lips again, swallowing each moan of his name, exhaling it back out to you with the sound of your name. A mantra of two people, facing only death together and loving every heart-wrenching second of it. 
The cold within you flourishes with each sound in his throat, you squeeze around him, your legs hug against him, your arms wrap tightly against his neck as he kisses you. Your body can’t withstand the speed of his cock slamming into you for much longer without coming undone.
And he doesn’t stop, seemingly never growing tired. Up until he feels your body clench entirely around him, he clings back at you at the feeling, whispering handsome words and proud promises. 
“Already?” He grunted out first, hearing your blood rush and your muscles tense. “Ah, can hear it rushing through you, let it go, love.” 
And you do, you let it go despite wanting it to last longer. So, so much longer. 
He lends you a choked and inward groan at the way you react to his relentless thrusts, flexing his abs and pointing his cock as deeply into you as he can reach. And for the second time, Sunghoon feels the warmth of you spill over him. Prettier than the blood, your voice so, so, sexy choking out a string of curses just for his ears to adore.
“There you go.” He coos through it with his own groans, savoring every squeeze and squelch, adoring the sounds you make for him. 
And as he watches, he can’t help the feeling inside of him. Your heart is beating so fast through the pleasure only he can offer you, and he keeps doing it. Fucking you through the orgasm only to not stop after the fact either. 
It’ll be the last time he’ll ever feel heat like this on him. He can fuck any and every victim, but none will feel as good as you. Partially because you aren’t being manipulated, he has no hold on your mind right now. You’re not gripping and moaning because you’re in a daze, you’re doing it because you fucking want it.
God, having sex for the sake of sex is something he hasn’t done in a long time before you. Enjoying in the pleasure, fucking suffering through all of it. Truly, for him, if this is the last time your body will be warm, he’s going to take his goddamn time making sure you’re well aware of just how good you could have it if you let him keep you forever. Cold and dead, he’ll still love the feeling of your body.
So much that still, even with your orgasm dripping all over him, he pushes and he pushes. Thinking only of how he plans to drain you in more ways than once tonight. He can hold off for as long as he can with his own pleasure, because this alone is fucking bliss.
And he doesn’t care if he’s knocking the breath out of you, only because he knows that soon enough, you’ll never have to worry about breathing again.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’re unsure as to how long Sunghoon has been lying with you like this, but you were able to get a bit of rest against him. Even with your fingers feeling like ice wrapped up in his, you feel safe and at home here. 
Not because you are at home, but because he’s here with you. 
The night outside your window tells you that you’ve not been sleeping for long, but you can barely recall coming to your bedroom at all with him. He must have carried you here and cuddled himself up against you. 
You stir in his grasp, peeking an eye up at him. 
“You’ve rested enough?” Sunghoon smiles at you with saddened eyes, his pupils still blown and hair an absolute mess.  
You shift against him, turning to face him entirely. 
As he looks at you, all he can do is remind himself that he’s never considered fating someone with this curse until finding you. With your pretty jealous words and your intense need to have him take you out of this world all together. Never has he given the chance for another person to know him so deeply and have them react with only fondness and desire. 
This is his chance, isn’t it? To find forever? 
As monstrous as he is, he does still have desire. The feeling of loneliness isn’t meant to be grown accustomed to. For him at least. All of his fellow vampires have companions, and he swore he’d never do that to another person. 
Perhaps it’s because many of the vampires he has mingled with took their companions by force. He could see the disdain in their eyes, and that’s not something he thinks he could live with. But you don’t look at him like that. You slept soundly next to a man wanting to kill you. Actively struggling not to do it with each and every breath you take. 
And oh, since the start of his curse, the need to taste that last famed drop lured him to every meal he’s feasted on up until now. Such a delicious flavor, truly the best sensation running down his throat. To have you offer that last little sip to him? Ah, fuck.
 The feeling in his stomach flutters at the thought of turning someone for the first time. Knowing that someone will be you. Knowing that you wouldn’t be a companion filled with resentment and agony at your new life. 
It’s electrifying. Like his heart could beat again at any second because you truly make him feel like he’s never experienced death at all. Despite being surrounded by it, despite experiencing it himself, despite taking lives daily for thousands of years. 
It’s amazing to him, to love someone so much he’s willing to fate them with eternal thirst, congealed blood, glitter and gold, beautiful and ugly, accidental lures before intentional ones. 
Death.
Vile, cold, damp skin. Safe light of the moon, dust in the sun. The only threat is that of life itself.
Light. Sharp pointed dogwood stakes. Beheadings. 
But…a companion.
The life he could live with you, oh the joy that runs through him is far too beautiful. The forever life. Eternity. Living through it all, far surpassing the roaches and bacteria of this earth. With you. 
So many things you’ve forced him to understand. Loneliness, despair, want, need, envy. It’s been so long since he’s entertained petty mortal feelings, but you forced them into him and out of him. The only need he’s grown accustomed to was hunger and thirst. Never love, or warmth, or want. 
Oh, forever. The two of you could starve after draining every living soul. All it takes is for him to take that last gush of blood from you. 
Without the lure. Without the manipulation. 
Never would he perform the rite without your pleasant voice telling him to. Never would he want to spend eternity with a woman so luring who would want nothing more than to be the blade slicing through the bone in his neck. 
That legendary, utterly delicious, last drop of blood that he’s tasted so many times before. It’s different this time only because the blood isn’t for him and him alone now. He has to share it, and it pains him to know that none would taste quite like yours. 
The hardest part would be controlling his instinct of swallowing it instantly, rendering you dead and unmoving for the eternity he wishes to have you. 
A new feeling. 
Anxiety. 
Your death would be slow, a cold and dreary one, but it wouldn’t be lonely. He’d make sure you feel so good through it. He wouldn’t spill a drop. You’d be clean, avoiding a gruesome death otherwise. 
And time would be against him, because upon taking that last drop, he’d barely be able to savor it before continuing the rite. A final sip that he can’t even swallow. A final sip that must be fed to you. Blood leaving your veins only to slide down into your emptied stomach through dead lips.
There, a final exhale, and then forever inhales. 
You’d look so beautiful dying next to him. He’d hold you through it. 
Is fate so dreary in a moment like that? Where is he feeling something akin to love for the first time in lifetime after lifetime? Is he selfish to need you so badly? 
“You could have it all.” He inhales the words at your drowsy face nearing sleep again. The silence you lended after his last comment kept him in his head, and now he wants out of it. 
He hugs against you so tightly, trying to keep you awake despite knowing he likely fucked you too long and too hard.  Still, he wants to encourage a life with him for you. 
“I can give it all to you.”
You’re silent at his words as you listen to him. You soak them into your sleepy head and smile.
“Sunghoo-”
“I beg of you.” He answers for you, grabbing your face tightly and landing an immediate kiss against your lips. A deep kiss, one that…oh. He’s crying. 
You feel the cold wet hit your cheeks as he kisses. He does it before you can even move your own lips against him, but you do start to kiss him back. Your brows furrow in concern at this new emotion he’s showing to you, but your handles are gentle when you caress his cheeks through it. 
“Die for me.” He whispers through the kiss, trying not to let you pull back at the words. He knows now that you heard them loud and clear.
Oh.
Why is there nothing in this world that you want more?
“It’ll only hurt for a little while.” He tries to make it sound pretty with his soothing whispers, not yet realizing that he hasn’t cried in several centuries. “You’ll come back.”
“Are you asking me to–?” You breathe out for him, once, twice, and then never finish what you were trying to ask simply because he makes himself very clear.
“You can be like me, my love.” 
Your body pulses in fear, but the adrenaline hits you in all the right spots as you break eye contact to cling instead, this time shoving your nose up and against his neck. Wanting nothing more than this dead skin, needing nothing more than a man who wants to kill you. 
But Sunghoon doesn’t want to end you, no. He wants to keep you forever. 
And forever is different with Sunghoon. It’s never ending. 
Are you even prepared to never see an end? With the man whispering so sweetly to you? Absolutely. 
Would a split second decision like this ruin your life forever? What's forever anyway? When you have many lives to ruin and many more to deem a success if you choose to go with him. 
Die. Only to live forever? 
You nod once, then you shake your head. His arms wrap around you tightly at your indecisiveness. He’s content enough just knowing you’re considering it and truly, he’s trying to be patient. Waiting and well aware that the question is likely the hardest decision you’ll ever need to make. 
“I’ll beg again and again.” He whispers, feeling your panicked lips try to calm your breathing against his neck. Still, you’re clinging to him tightly and it makes him feel…happy. “I cannot fathom a death for you that’s not this. Forever gone from me.” 
You shake your head again, but then…you nod. 
“Will it hurt?” You ask, feeling your heart rate threaten to kill you before Sunghoon even gets the chance himself. 
“Tremendously.” He chuckles at the ignorance, though even he barely remembers the pain himself these days.
 “Only for a little while, darling. I told you.” He licks his lips, anticipating the blood running through you to run through him soon. The hunger is almost overcoming him now and if you don’t agree, he very well may end up killing you regardless.
And the thought pains him. 
If there was ever a time to hold himself back, it’s now.
“Don’t die without me here with you. Now or ever.” He continues in a sweet voice, trying to control the wavering breaks his throat is trying to force out of him. 
“Can I…” You stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can I have a minute to think?” 
“Oh course,” He smiles to hide his frustration, pulling you back by your shoulders and sitting himself up against your bed. “But, the sun rises in three hours, and that’s three hours of fighting my urge to do it without your confirmation.”
You pause, finding comfort in the fact that he’s willing to suffer through your inevitable acceptance. There’s no way you’ll end up saying no to him, only because of how badly it hurt when you walked away from him. It rotted within you for weeks, and even when you thought you were better…all he had to do was stand outside your door to have you running to be in his arms.
What’s a bad decision when you could have lifetimes to make up for it? Even if said decision is what gives you those lifetimes. He’s asking for you to stay with him. To be with him. Isn’t that what you want?
But to die…
And you only cling to him through the fear, hoping he can save you from what he’s offering. He’s the comfort and the ultimate end. 
Or, perhaps, the ultimate beginning.
You’re not sure. You only found out vampires are real like two months ago. It’s not exactly something you can comprehend so quickly, but it is something you know you want more than anything if it means you can be next to Sunghoon. 
“Will it ease your fear if I talk about what it’s like to be me?” Sunghoon offers both a reason to give you insight, as well as distract his own mind during this moment of distress.
You nod immediately, hugging yourself so tightly to his side and trying to keep your nose up and against him simply because that brings you the most comfort. Smelling the faint cinnamon, feeling him against you. 
“I’m the first of my family to reside here, but I’ve been here for thirty years. Commoners aren’t aware as I try to remain hidden save for when I need to hunt.” He starts, continuing after hearing the way your heart calms. “But, city officials know very well who I am, and where I come from.” 
You listen, trying to take in his words as truth rather than fantasy. 
“I was born in seventeen thirty eight, overseas. Every few hundred years I’ll relocate simply because it becomes boring watching the same country grow and be destroyed. I ran from many wars, have lived many lives.” 
Oh. Okay.
“I know every language. I’ve lived every life you can imagine, worked every job you can think of to rid myself of boredom.” 
“So you weren’t always pretending to be a priest?” You try to make light of the fear within you, almost, somehow, wanting to snort at his choice of current lifestyle. 
“Ah, no.” He chuckles for you, rolling his eyes at how you mock him in the face of your own death. “I was a banker before this, I despised it. Only lasted about seven years before relocating here.”
A pause, you hear him chuckle. 
“I really despise numbers.”
In the calmness of his voice, within his gentle grasp, you feel comfortable. 
“Did you come for the cathedral?” 
He nods, holding you against him even tighter.
“History is protected, whether it be land, buildings, or people. It felt fitting to be a priest if I was to stumble inside parading as a drunken man needing a place to stay.” 
“How did you become, uh, what did she call you? Master?”
“Ah,” Another scoffed chuckle at your ignorance. “Did you believe them to be alive?” 
You freeze, body stiffening at the shock. They were fucking dead?! This whole time?!
“I slept in a cathedral full of fucking vampires?!” 
“You did.” He smiles. “But they are very well aware of what’s mine.”
He loves the way your face looks when you process words. He is more aware than you think of how insane all of this must sound to you. Yet, still, he has never truly lied to you. 
“They needed an order, so I brought that order. Thus, Master.” He smiles as he motions towards himself with you still in his grasp, as if he’s playfully boasting his own intelligence over the vampire-nuns. 
You pull back to look at him, feeling a bit calmer now in the way he describes countless lives and knowledge. You can’t experience any of that with the life you have right now. In fifty to sixty years you’ll be in an urn on your mother’s fireplace. 
Why would you want that when you could be in a bed with silk sheets? Or perhaps by then you’ll be able to travel elsewhere with Sunghoon, finding new beds with even softer sheets.
And only now do you realize that Sunghoon didn’t put you in danger at all. In fact, he knew he was dangerous and forced you to live. Even when you asked him to kill you. He…
Oh. Wow.
“Now, what is it, you think, that made you so special in regards to that woman you found me with? What is it, love? What do you believe kept me from ending your life to sustain my own?” And goddamn does it feel good to finally say it. Sunghoon loves the feeling of the words coming out of his mouth, finally spilling it all to you and seeing you only react with cheeky curiosity. 
“Why is that? Can you tell me?”
You’re silent as you think of his questions, unable to answer at all.  
“No…” You breathe out, knowing he can feel the hot breath against him only because his hand squeezes your waist. 
“I suppose after how long I’ve wandered this earth, even I am left with curiosities and questions too.” He smiles when he says it, thankful to know he hasn’t yet experienced everything there is. “I’d like to know why you have this hold on me too, darling.”
“Maybe it’s because I want it?” 
“Perhaps, yes. If you didn’t I likely would have savored every ounce of you already and for that, I should be thankful.” 
He shifts now, pressing you down against your bed and hovering over you with dark and sparkling eyes. His lips immediately go to your neck with the hunger he feels. Talking isn’t enough anymore. Holding you isn’t enough. He hasn’t eaten in days, and the fact that he could hold off even until now is strange to him. 
“Unlike many, you do not seek death–” He drags his lips against your skin, relishing in it. “You exist alongside it happily, you welcome it.” He continues to talk, his teeth now retracting against your skin and leaving little swollen scratches with each drag. “Perhaps had I not chosen to be a priest during this lifetime, you’d have already said yes.” 
“A singer? A dancer? Anything you wish for, I’ll become.” He smiles when he feels the goosebumps plump up under his teeth, and it’s so, so, hard not to bite. “So, won’t you stay? “
He listens so closely to your heart and breathing, nearly moaning at the need for it. 
“Watching you wither to death by anything other than my own teeth would surely have me seekinga dogwood.” 
Ah, so the fantasy movies and novels aren’t all wrong? So strange, truly, that he lives in a cathedral of crosses made from the very wood that could kill him. 
“We could be anything, go anywhere, dine on meals you merely taste but never need.”
He nods his head against your skin, hoping you’ll nod along with him, knowing that you will. 
“You could be mine, forever.” 
You’ve accepted him already, you just haven’t said so yet. He doesn’t mind sweet talking you though, reminding you of everything he can and will provide.
And to you, every single word he mutters is pretty, and everything you could ever need or want is right here. 
“I could be yours, forever.”
“I think–” You breathe out, hands now reaching up to scratch through his hair. “there is nothing I could want more than this.”
And the moment he gets that final word of confirmation out to you, he bites. The words you mutter drive him to it. He couldn’t even kiss you in appreciation simply because his instinct takes over. He lets go. 
Finally, he can let go. 
The need to control himself is no longer here, and it feels astounding. 
The sting is deep and it rings within you so loudly that you could hear the puncture vibrate your brain. Your ears burn at the direct puncture, and already you can feel his hands bracing you through it. As if he knows he’s never bitten you so deep in your pulse point like this. 
But the intention behind it somehow feels better than anything you’ve ever experienced. This is what you were jealous of and now you can only agree with your past self. There was good reason to be jealous of feeling this from him. Except, unlike that woman, he’s holding you through it. He’s grunting against your neck and swallowing large portions of your blood as the seconds pass. Losing himself with you. Almost as if he’s dying with you.
And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, to the point your toes are feeling the sleep overtake them, then your legs, all the way up and down your body until your fingers are too weak to keep gripping against the locks of hair on the back of his neck.
You feel his fingers soothe you through the weakness when he pulls back, keeping his promise of not wasting a single drop. There is no blood smeared on him, only a trace of it on his inner lips as he watches your weakened expressions. 
He isn’t intentionally draining you so quickly, but…fuck. The blood. That glorious scent and taste was already too much to bear, but now? Knowing he gets all of it save for the best and final sip? He genuinely can’t help it. Controlling himself now after how long he’s held back? 
Darling, you asked for this. 
And his body reacts in aroused euphoria. Already he feels an orgasm bubble up just witnessing you die for him. Even then, he barely feels the heightened pleasure because the mind, dead or not, simply cannot comprehend the pure potent pleasure he’s experiencing.
He spills out all over himself, while you spill out for him. Your life, your very being. 
How can he not be terribly, horrifyingly, utterly stupendously in love with you? 
“My love, the light in your eyes will come back soon.” He smiles as he watches what happens to you through this, and then throws his head back in manic pleasure with a deep and animalistic moan. Arguably, even his eyes hold more life than yours right now. 
So, so beautiful. 
You’re too weak to speak, but you shake your head. Nothing is a pain to lose, nothing except him. 
And you find comfort in the way he sinks his teeth right back into those puncture marks. Sucking more and more out of you with a content smile on his face. He doesn’t think he could ever feel happier, knowing you’re giving him everything, and he wants nothing more than to return the favor to you.
Oh, how he wishes it were you sucking the life out of his veins. You’d be so gentle, you’d look so pretty losing your mind like he is right now. 
You continue to feel your body grow numb, up to the point that your heart rate slows at the loss of blood. To the point you can tell he’s sucking harder and harder just to get more. You feel a weight shift inside of your body, it writhes and chokes every inch of your innards. 
Shrivelling, spiraling, cramping. 
If you could curl in on yourself right now, you would, but you’re too weak even for that. You can’t even twitch a finger against Sunghoon at this moment as you feel everything within you dehydrate and search for life. 
It hurts. 
Badly. So badly that at this moment, you can’t remember a single thing that has ever felt good. In fact, everything is painful. Life is painful and horrifyingly full of things that will hurt you. But–Sunghoon is here. That much, you still recognize. Even through the pain, and even through the twisting inside of you, he remains constant. He’s soothing you through it well past the comprehension of your dying brain. 
You can’t shiver at the loss of warmth, but you do try to take a breath. Working your weak body to near exhaustion just at the act of trying to expand your lungs. And oh, you can’t even open your eyes at the way the last breath doesn’t come. You must have lost it already. 
And then, darkness. 
Nothing. 
And it feels like this for an eternity. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to fear or love. 
Absolutely fucking nothing. And to think humanity has built governments off promised afterlifes? To think anything ever mattered in the first place? The emptiness soothes and relieves your still working soul, wisping in the darkness for eternities more it seems. 
To the point names and faces leave you, and all you can think, feel, or hear is that of unfilled space and pure, deafening, silence. You cannot feel content, or peace, or happiness here. You just feel nothing. And it truly feels good to be nothing. 
Until there's warmth. You feel it somewhere hugging you, or perhaps inside of you? Do you even have a body to hold warmth now within this vast void of darkness? Why do you hear…?
Feelings come back to you tenfold. Seemingly experiencing everything you’ve ever felt and lived through all at once. That deafening silence becomes louder, louder, louder, until– it flourishes in the pit of your belly.
So much chaos within you. Swirling and bubbling in such a way that it fucking blooms in this darkness. You feel like you’re burning, freezing, dying, living, fucking drowning all at once. 
That flourish forces the nothingness out of you. As comfortable as this place is, there is nothing and you want something. You need something. You crave…something.
A little dribble running down your throat leaving a trail of warm, blooming heat. As if you just swallowed a sun-ray itself. Only now can you feel your body again enough to know where the heat is coming from. It blossoms within you, increasing each sense within your body tenfold. 
It doesn’t hurt. 
Only now do you recognize that it’s silent again, as if you were slammed into a wall by the force of the god you now know does not exist. You feel yourself restrict under skin, you feel cold, you feel…heavy. 
And the silence is still too loud to be so restricted. You miss the sounds of what you must have unintentionally listened to every waking moment of your life. The only true soundtrack of a living, loving, and heat-radiating being. 
No heart-beat. No whirring of blood. No rumbling in your stomach. Nothing.
And yet still, it doesn’t hurt. 
Just a bouquet in the pits in your belly. Your precious life, all summed up in that single diluted sip of blood. 
And somehow, someway, you regain your strength faster than it took for you to lose it. You open your eyes on instinct and the world is glowing. Sunghoon is glowing. As lifeless as you are, and as empty as your brain is at this moment, you reach out to him immediately.
But he has yet to let go of you since all of this started. He stayed. He held you, just like he said he would. 
“Did it hurt badly?” Sunghoon calls out to you, helping your mind awaken again. 
He barely remembers the pain he went through when it happened to him. Truly, pain is so temporary, so meaningless to indulge but, the curiosity still sits with him. 
After watching you for upwards of two hours to both die and come back to life, he can’t help but wonder if it was anything like what he experienced. 
Even with that curiosity though, seeing you open your eyes for the first time in your new life fills Sunghoon with overwhelming glee. To the point he feels like a child, wanting to ask so many questions, thoughts shifting from this, to that, up until all his thoughts run together and all he can do is squeeze you in his grasp. 
He’d have pulled down the stars if he could just so it could be your first view of the afterlife with him. But alas, he couldn’t step away even for a moment. He needed to be with you, not just for your sake, but his own. 
You’re cold now, but oh, the blood within him could satiate him for hundreds of years. It’s gone from you now, and he fears not missing it. Not when you’re here. Not when you chose to be here with him. 
You weakly nod to him, amazed at being able to do it again. Already the pain you’d previously felt feels like a long lost memory as you stare back at him. 
“I’m sorry.” He smiles through the apology, unable to pretend he means the words at all. “I didn’t intend to drain you so quickly. My poor love, you must have felt miserable.” 
You nod again, feeling him so tightly against you.
Only just realizing that he’s holding you. Your body, it’s coming back to you. You can feel sensations again. 
“I feel–” Your voice cracks with a dry throat and you inhale.
On instinct, you try to exhale but your throat just gets drier and drier. 
“I–”
Sunghoon coos, shushing you with a gentle kiss. Lending you his own saliva because if there’s one thing he can remember, it’s the act of learning how to…not breathe. 
“Slowly, love, slowly.” He smiles when he pulls back, watching you swallow around his gift and instantly droop your eyes again. 
“You’ve only just died and you have all the time in this world to speak, no need to do it now.” 
And he’s right. You’re spinning, yet balanced. Fuzzy yet smooth. You are everything and nothing at this moment with your glowing after-death aroma. Sunghoon smiles, cradling the back of your head. 
Finally, he’s gotten to drink you in full. No true death, and he feels more elated than he ever expected. Almost lulled to sleep at the scent of you disappearing. Never will he taste your blood again, but you. He has you now. Knowing you had a taste at all is enough. Knowing that he has broken for you enough to beg you.
To beg you to die for him just to be with him on a level deeper than thirst. 
Never once has he wanted someone like this.
And never once had he expected you to agree with him. 
The moment is sweet with him, and still you’ve yet to comprehend the truth reality of your life now. You know at least, that it could take longer than you’d have had previously to figure it out. You did this to be with someone, and that someone is right here next to you. Smiling, clinging, seemingly ecstatic to know he’s no longer alone. 
A forever companion, truly this time. 
And as sweet as the moment is, time still moves even after becoming ageless. 
“The sun will rise soon,” Sunghoon hums at your reluctant gaze at the window. “Shall we go home?”
You would nod. Truly, you would, if it weren’t for that suffocating scent entering your nose. 
Roses? No, tulips?
Lavender? 
Your belly pangs, a dry and itchy feeling overtaking your entire being. To the point that Sunghoon clinging to you can’t even calm the itch. The world stops at the scent, so strong and sweet. 
Sunghoon smells it too though, and he knows. He’s experienced it time and time again, though he’s long since learned how to control it, clearly. He purses his lips in frustration. You’ve only just come back, and he’d very much like to get you home with him so that you can learn and grow accustomed to this life. You need to realize that you haven’t even experienced the hardest part yet. 
Disappearing. 
After all, his intention was to hunt for you, teach you, comfort you. There’s so much to do now that the deed is done, and he hadn’t prepared for interruptions such as this.
Unfortunately, he knows very well the thirst. You won’t be able to control it, especially considering he knows this scent too. He has to force himself to try and lend you alluring words, but they seem to go through one ear and out the other. 
Your brain is empty at the scent. 
“Ah, what a turn of events.” He tics his tongue with a smile. “I smell him too.”
Your eyes do not reach Sunghoon at all, but he understands. Even with the jealousy in his gut. 
A key clicking into a lock, a turn of the knob. The sound is amplified in your ears along with the scent. 
“Wake up and help me unload all this shit!” 
Oh, what a shame. 
You really loved Jungwon. 
“Can you smell it flowing through him?” Sunghoon smiles at the light in your eye now, endeared by the way scent ignites you entirely. As envious of Jungwon as he is to hold certain parts of you when he couldn’t do it himself, seeing the way you react arouses him beyond belief. 
Your first feeling of thirst. 
“Shall I greet him?” 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jungwon peers at the stoic figure that appeared from your bedroom. His first thought is that he’s going to kick your fucking ass because number one, this better not be who he thinks it is. And number two–
There is no number two. A mere three seconds after stepping into his new home with you, his mind goes fuzzy. Thinking only of you, of needing to see you, of needing to make sure you’re okay. 
He wants to know if you slept well, and if you were able to have any sweet dreams without him here. 
“Jungwon, I take it?” Sunghoon lends him a lively smile, impressed by the pull you unintentionally lay on the guy. 
“Ah, yeah.” Jungwon weakly scratches the back of his neck before feeling his body move on its own. “Where is she? I need to see her.” 
It’s a pity, really, but Sunghoon has seen it time and time again with his own victims. A weak mind, one that is easily broken and even easier to lure. It’s kind of cute really, seeing how breathing humans cling to what balances them. 
He almost feels bad for taking you from Jungwon, but he doesn't only because he hates that he has to see you drink from someone you were attached to. He knows it’ll hurt you when you realize, and he no longer wants to see you hurt after witnessing your death.
As beautiful as it was. 
Jungwon truly chases you, stepping through the apartment and dropping everything in his hands without care. He heads straight to your room, swallowed in a somber smile and a welcome scent. One that he doesn’t know is death.
“Wonnie.” You rasp sweetly. “Come here.” 
There’s no reluctance within him, even upon hearing Sunghoon close the door behind him and lock it. Even when the man looms at the door, watching, narrowing his eyes at you in jealousy. 
You ignore it as you grow enamored with Jungwon at this moment. Is this what his life smells like? So pretty, it truly fits him. 
And it drowns out all of your thoughts. The flowers, like a fresh spring day with no worry. You think it’s your favorite smell in the world as you inhale him with each step he takes toward you. 
For Jungwon, even upon feeling you grip his shirt, pulling him closer than he’s ever been to you without the excuse of comfort, he pays no mind. He missed this bubble he shared with you, the single night with his sister almost felt like agony to be away from you.
After all, the love he holds for you is truly deeper than romance. There is no need for any physicality between the two of you, yet…he welcomes it at this moment. In fact, he’s entirely aroused, stiffening in his pants at the sheer blissful anxiety your uncanny smile and shining eyes lend to him. 
Did you truly miss him so much? 
“You look so pretty…” He trails off, closing his eyes as he feels you caress his warm cheeks. “Your hands are so cold, let me—ah” 
You’ve never felt an instinct quite like this. You could truly hear it, the pulse of his heart. You can still smell his sweet scent, and you truly weren’t in control of your own body when you gripped him, lifted, and sank your teeth right against his pulse point. 
Jungwon moans at the bite, drifting off entirely at first contact. 
All while Sunghoon continues to loom. Watching with weight in his pants. The way you bite so messily, spilling blood and wasting it as it trickles down Jungwon’s throat. The small sounds your mouth makes as you suck has him throbbing non-stop, to the point he almost needs to hold onto something just to keep from jumping on you, just to keep from tasting Jungwon himself.
And, oh, his pretty love, you have so much to adapt to. 
It appears he does as well. 
As he watches the furrow of your brows at the first taste falling to that of relief and pleasure as you drink, and you drink, and you drink, until–
Sunghoon smirks now, quirking his brow at how you stop yourself before he needs to step in and separate the two of you. In all honesty, he was unsure if he’d be able to give in and stop you either. After all, killing Jungwon now would prove easier than letting him live.
The fact that you stopped yourself though. Perhaps your mind grew more stubborn and strong-willed through death. He nearly cannot believe that you aren’t draining the man dry right now. 
And you aren’t even sure yourself why you do. The feeling in your gut is full and satiated, but the grip Jungwon has on you only grows more and more limp. You love the way he clings as much as the taste, and even through his slumber, he clinged so tight. 
Not so much now though, and that scared you. So, you let go. 
If only because truly, you do love Jungwon. Enough to no longer pull him into your messes despite forcing him to become one at this moment. What’s even more scary is though, even with all of the endearment you held towards him in life, the feeling is only amplified now. These new bitter and floral scents pulsing through him makes you want to protect him from any leech wanting to drink it out of him.
Even if you’re the leech. 
Ah, he tasted like honey suckle, and it dropped down your throat like honey too. Warm, gentle, pretty. Just like him. 
And you have to continue to keep yourself from sinking your teeth into him. Your stomach is greedy, wanting more, but too in love with the life he has and willingly wanted to share with you as a best friend and forever comfort. 
Forever for Jungwon is nothing but a moment to you now, but it’s one you hope he enjoys, at least. 
And when you hold him against you, so weak and sound asleep, you look at Sunghoon. The tears fall so, so, cold against your cheeks. The heightened senses within you become overwhelming with the horrifying silence and intense smell of floral blood wafting through your nose. 
“Much like you, he won’t remember. You lured him deeply, love, did you know that? He was asleep from the moment he saw you.” 
You pause, nodding as the tears continue to fall. 
“Brilliant.” He compliments now, moving to hold you as you cling to Jungwon. 
“Sunghoon, did my blood taste like that?” 
Sunghoon kisses you once, sucking Jungwon’s blood from your tongue. 
“Ah,” He chokes. “Absolutely not.”
You pause at his scrunched nose. 
“You were much sweeter.” He whispers sweetly, fondly, tilting his head to kiss against you again, licking the mess of Jungwon’s blood from your lips, chin, and neck. Still, he chokes it down. “I’ll miss it.”
“What did it taste like?” Your weak and dry voice falters repeatedly, but you need to speak right now.
“You tell me.” 
You only slightly remember the flavor as you were brought back. Warm, blooming, spicy, sickeningly sweet. 
“I have never tasted anything compared to it…” 
“Exactly.” Sunghoon smiles, inhaling deeply and lending no breath against your skin when he scrapes his teeth there. “Like the sun.” He hums, nosing down to your neck and inhaling again, arms only slightly trying to push Jungwon out of your grasp. “Like the one thing that could get me killed.” 
You cling tightly to your best friend though, not wanting any more harm to come to him. Still, you stare at Sunghoon’s sweet words, finding yourself smiling at all that is to be gained rather than lost. 
Your life. The light outside, the light in your eyes, the warmth. 
Not Jungwon though. 
“You don’t intend to leave him be, no?” Sunghoon furrows a brow at how your face rises for him, but falls instantly at inhaling Jungwon’s blood. 
You frantically shake your head. 
“We’ll figure something out, love.” He says now, looking away from you and doing his best to ignore the envy that fills him time and time again when this floral-boy is near. 
He told you he’d do anything for you, give anything to you. 
If that includes Jungwon….
Ah, always so fucking stubborn. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The sun rises and falls. 
Repeatedly, for months. 
Jungwon wakes himself with the warm sun hitting his face, the bed just as warm from his own body heat. He loves this space, and adores the way that even if it’s only him, he never feels lonely with that pretty smell in the air. 
Every morning when he wakes up, and every night before he goes to bed.
The shock of learning the inevitable still hurts him from time to time, but still, he smiles with that dimple you threatened you’d steal right off his face if he chose not to show it to you. 
His hand reaches to his neck, the single wound you gave him and apologized profusely for after. It’s healed well.
And when his phone vibrates in the middle of the day, he wonders why you’re awake. 
You: wonnie
Wonnie: wat
You: come over
Wonnie: was wondering why you were trying so hard. nearly suffocated this morning. 
You: and you were fighting it? asshole
Wonnie: be over in a few, stinky
And as strange as it is, Sunghoon doesn’t mind that you wouldn’t let Jungwon go. After several conversations needing reassurance that you’re not trying to spend your forever elsewhere, anyway.
Really, to think you’d die for him but want someone else? Sunghoon truly is insane, but so are you. 
And it works. 
Because Jungwon loves insanity, even if he hates Sunghoon with a passion. Even if he can only see you with Sunghoon in the room too. Even if you’re dead. 
You’re still his best friend, and he doesn’t mind helping you disappear as long as it’s not from him. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
not me accidentally making this a sunghoon ft.jungwon fic. 
let me make this incredibly clear. jungwon are reader are not romantically in love, though they do love each other deeply. in a way where finding out one of them is a goddamn vampire doesn’t change a single thing or feeling. 
remember that this is fiction, it isn’t meant to be realistic.
pls do not rant at me about how much jungwon is in this fic either. i wrote it that way on purpose. if you don’t love best friend jungwon then im very sorry for you and hope you get well soon!!! 
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vampiresfromxenon · 7 months
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Kiss It Better
Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav
Around 2.2K words 
Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n
CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)
Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…
~
With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse. 
You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment. 
You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.
You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag. 
In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought. 
You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching. 
“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out. 
You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away. 
“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment. 
You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact. 
“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual. 
Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.
“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion. 
“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally. 
“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm. 
“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand. 
“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off. 
“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered. 
“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out. 
“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.
You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you. 
If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason. 
“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time. 
“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.
“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.
He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more. 
Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you. 
He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood. 
“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.
Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin. 
“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.
You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent. 
“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.
The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while. 
No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.  
-
Author's Note:
Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)
I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same
Hope you enjoy!
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sunkissed-zegras · 2 months
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⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐬) | nh¹³
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౨ৎ ─ summary | you and nico have only been dating for 6 months but both of you are convinced you've found the one, and a certain theory proves you right.
─ word count | 2k
─ warnings | mention of doubt in relationships (not you and nico's ofc) and slight angst when it comes to ex's, BUT OTHER THAN THAT, tooth-rotting fluff u might just get diabetes 🥹
─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke
─ ev's notes | i know this is SOOOO short but i still hope y'all enjoy! i love nico sm :( hes adorable :(((
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You and Nico had been dating for almost 6 months and it has been nothing less of perfection, you'd never thought you'd meet someone who fit every single one of your boxes. He was handsome, tall but also very sweet, empathetic and mature. Before Nico, you had only dated self-involved assholes who only cared about their wants and needs.
Now, with Nico, everything felt different. He listened to you attentively, remembered all the little details you shared, and always made an effort to understand your perspective. His presence was calming, always making sure you were okay and somehow always knowing if you weren't, even if you insisted you were. Everything with Nico was effortless, you didn't have to try - you just knew.
Despite the love that enveloped your relationship, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt that occasionally crept into your mind. It wasn't about Nico himself - he was everything you had ever wanted and more - but rather a lingering fear that somehow, someday, it might all come crashing down. Maybe it was the scars left behind by past boyfriends, the ghost of heartbreaks past whispering cautionary tales in your ear. Or maybe it was simply the vulnerability that comes with opening your heart to another person so completely, knowing that the possibility of pain exists alongside the promise of love.
Yet, with each passing day, Nico continued to prove himself worthy of your trust, erasing any doubts with his unwavering love. He showed you, time and time again, that he was different; that he was here to stay.
"And then I looked inside of the car, and it was what looked like a sixteen year old." Nico shook his head as he bit into his sandwich. "A sixteen year old with a damn Porsche, can you believe it?"
You chuckled at Nico's story, shaking your head in disbelief. "A sixteen-year-old with a Porsche? That's insane. How did can they even afford it?"
Nico laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I have no idea. Must be nice to have such generous parents. My first car was my dad's old car, it was a really old Toyota Camry." Nico took a bite of sandwich before continuing, "I crashed it 3 times before getting my new car."
"Three times?" you exclaimed, unable to hide your surprise. "And you're still alive to tell the tale?"
Nico chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I wasn't the best driver back then. It's a miracle that Camry held up. I learned my lesson, though. Now I drive like a grandparent."
"Oh, I know." You teased as you finally got your sandwich from the waitress, smiling up at her. "Thank you."
"Can you imagine crashing a Porsche? Imagine how much you'd have to spend fixing it." Nico shook his head as he looked at you.
"Crashing a Porsche? I can't even imagine affording one in the first place, let alone fixing it after a crash. That's a whole different level of stress." You shook your head as you took a bite of your sandwich.
Nico chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Exactly. I'd rather stick to my reliable car. Besides, I've grown attached to it over the years. It's got character."
"Oh no, they put tomatoes in my sandwich." You gagged as you put down your sandwich, sighing.
"Wait, you don't like tomatoes?" Nico looked back at you in disbelief. "How do you not like tomatoes?"
You made a face, scrunching up your nose at the offending tomato slice. "I've just never been a fan. The texture, the taste – it's just not my thing." You began taking the tomatoes out from the sandwich.
Nico laughed, reaching across the table to grab the tomato slice from your plate. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to love tomatoes. Problem solved." He winked, placing the tomato on his own plate.
You laughed along with Nico. "God, they're disgusting."
Nico smirked, his dimple showing as he held up the tomato slice like a trophy. "More for me, then. Tomatoes are so good, especially in a sandwich."
You shook your head, feigning disgust. As you watched him enjoy the tomato slice with happiness, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. He was so cute. "Well, you can take all the tomatoes you want from me."
Nico grinned, "oh, I will. Don't you worry."
"Oh wait." You watched him eat the tomato. "This is the Olive Theory!"
"What the hell is the Olive Theory?" Nico looked confused as you smiled, excited. "Aren't we talking about tomatoes?" He smiled at your excitement.
You laughed, nodding eagerly. "Yes, yes, but bear with me. So, you know how in 'How I Met Your Mother,' Marshall and Lily have the Olive Theory?"
Nico furrowed his brow, trying to recall. "Vaguely. Something about olives?"
"Exactly!" you exclaimed, delighted that he was playing along. "So, the theory goes that Marshall hates olives, but Lily loves them. Whenever they order food, Marshall always gives his olives to Lily, and it's this little gesture of love and compatibility. The idea is that if one person hates olives and the other loves them, it's a sign of compatibility because it means you complement each other."
Nico's eyes lit up with understanding. "Ohh, I see where you're going with this. So, you hate tomatoes, but I love them. And I happily take them from you. It's like our own little Olive Theory."
"Exactly!" you exclaimed, your heart swelling with affection for him.
Nico couldn't help but smile at you. You were so cute, he couldn't help but laugh at how excited you got. Nico's laughter filled the air, his smile reflecting the warmth in his heart. "You're adorable, you know that?"
You felt a rush of warmth at his words, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Well, I learned from the best," you teased, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
Nico reached across the table, his hand finding yours as he squeezed it gently. "I mean it though, you're amazing. You're adorable when you get all excited about these little things, even if I don't understand half of the references you make."
You chuckled, appreciating his honesty. "Well, that just means we have more opportunities for you to learn and for me to share all my references with you."
Nico's eyes sparkled with affection as he held your gaze. "Yeah and then I can teach you about hockey, it's perfect."
You smiled at Nico's suggestion. "I'd love that! Hockey lessons from the expert himself. Now people won't call me a puck bunny."
Nico grinned, his enthusiasm contagious. "You'll be a pro in no time. Maybe you could even join the team, who knows?"
"Maybe I'll even be captain."
Nico shook his head, "Nah that's kind of my job."
You laughed as you gazed at your boyfriend, a warm smile playing on your face. "Alright, Captain, I'll let you keep the title. But maybe I can be the team's official cheerleader?"
"Well you're already my cheerleader so that wouldn't work very well, would it?" Nico shrugged as you laughed and shook your head.
You couldn't help but laugh at Nico's response. "I guess you're right. Can't double up on roles, can we?"
Nico smirked, "No can do, princess. You're my lucky charm not the team's."
You nodded your head in faux understanding as you played along with Nico's words. "Right, right. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Good cus I need my good luck charm." Nico smiled, his eyes warm with affection as he squeezed your hand once again.
"And you'll always be mine." You replied, his words filled you with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and you squeezed his hand gently in return. As you gazed into each other's eyes, you knew that no matter what happens, one thing remained: your love and support.
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-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-
thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
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sepherinaspoppies · 2 months
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Only If For A Night (i/?)
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pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader
summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.
warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !
wc: 4,027
series masterlist
my masterlist
pt2
notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).
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She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)
She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)
Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)
She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)
Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.  
She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)
George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.  
Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible. 
‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’
“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico. 
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It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.
“Umm… I- I’m sorry?” 
The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful. 
“The bus–” 
She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude. 
She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.    
“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her. 
“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her. 
A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.
“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear. 
The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting. 
“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin. 
“Yes, almost like I've lived through it” 
She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid. 
The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.” 
Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news) 
“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?” 
She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!
But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away. 
“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.
“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist. 
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Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance. 
She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision. 
Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.
From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection. 
She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)
“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together. 
“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile. 
The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.
In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies. 
In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run. 
She ignored it, again. 
“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)
She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit. 
She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.  
Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze. 
“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen. 
She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore. 
She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family. 
A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood. 
She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have. 
Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys) 
Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair. 
Silver. 
Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?” 
Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.
Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth. 
Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight. 
“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.” 
Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.” 
She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.
Not now. Not ever. 
She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so. 
“I don’t—” 
“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye. 
She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.
“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.
She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist. 
“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.” 
Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…
There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down. 
She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.” 
Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her. 
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Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)
Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.
The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)
Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)
It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…
But not to Alyssandra.
Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp. 
However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic. 
“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.
All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully. 
Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic. 
“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out. 
She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.  
But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative. 
“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red. 
“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe. 
She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic. 
Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand. 
Blood. Her blood. 
Run! 
“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face. 
“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor. 
“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…” 
She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there. 
Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)
“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)
Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.” 
She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.” 
There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned. 
Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.” 
Fuck. 
“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?” 
Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one. 
She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass) 
“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.” 
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ki-yomii · 1 month
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baby, don't go | myg
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➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)
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Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.
Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.
Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.
Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.
Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."
Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.
Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.
In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.
"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."
Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.
"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"
You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"
"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."
The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.
Not yet.
It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.
"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."
LIAR.
In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.
Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.
At least not until morning.
Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?
Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.
The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.
You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.
Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."
Panic grabs you by the throat.
This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.
Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.
How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...
You thought you were going to marry him.
The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.
"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."
The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.
"It's just been one of those days."
Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.
What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.
Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.
Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.
“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”
Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.
Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.
Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest
“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”
You hate that you stutter over his name.
And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.
She’s always hated him.
Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.
God, why does she have to be right?
You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.
You only just found out.
Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.
She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”
Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.
“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”
The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.
And it helps for a time, truly.
But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.
Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.
“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”
You hum, worlds away.
“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”
Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.
Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”
“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”
Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.
Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.
The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.
And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.
Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.
Shit.
You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.
“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”
Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.
“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”
You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”
“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”
She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”
You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.
How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?
He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.
You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.
“Knock it off, I’m serious.”
“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”
You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.
“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”
You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”
“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”
Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.
Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.
Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.
“So-o, what are you waiting for?”
“Sorry?”
She nods towards Yoongi subtly.
He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”
“Oh my god!”
Kae-In shrugs. “What.”
“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”
A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.
“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”
A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.
As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.
All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.
To feel like someone’s first and only choice.
You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.
They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.
Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.
It’s a terrible idea.
But maybe…
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.
Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.
Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.
It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.
Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.
Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.
Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.
His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.
It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.
Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess. 
Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.
You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.
It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.
Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.
And that?
So not good.
Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.
There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.
“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”
You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.
Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.
Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.
You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.
When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.
He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.
Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.
It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.
No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.
It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.
Of course, it has to be him.
Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”
Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.
“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”
As you pass by, he catches your arm.
Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.
His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.
All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.
"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.
A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.
Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.
Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”
His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.
Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.
“I haven’t said hello yet.”
Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.
Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.
His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.
Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.
“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”
He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.
The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.
“Oh?”
You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.
You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.
Always has.
“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”
You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.
Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.
His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.
You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.
Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.
He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.
His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.
“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.
How is this my life, you think, dazed.
His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”
After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.
With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.
For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.
He holds you down.
His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.
You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.
A sweet ache settles low and deep.
“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”
His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.
The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.
Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.
Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.
“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”
“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”
“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”
A smile, all teeth.
“Isn’t that right, baby?”
You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.
Two can play that game.
“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.
His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”
You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.
”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.
Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.
Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.
Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.
Shit, that’s so unfair.
Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?
Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.
Big mistake.
Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.
Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.
Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.
Sex with him was always stupidly good.
All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.
Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.
He’s ruined you.
His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.
Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”
Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.
“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”
Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.
In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.
All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.
Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.
His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.
“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”
You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.
You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”
Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.
Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.
His knuckles brush your skin.
Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.
Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.
His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.
You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.
“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.
You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.
He hisses, thrusts off beat.
Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.
“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”
Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.
Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.
“Please, don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.
Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.
Fuck, he’s handsome like this.
It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.
The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.
He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.
“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”
It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.
A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.
In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.
He’s a goner.
Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.
Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.
He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”
“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”
In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.
Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”
Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.
“Can you do that for me?”
Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.
“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”
By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.
The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.
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aureum-cordis · 3 months
Text
Lost & Found, Part 3
A/N: Hey again! I’m so happy my other two parts have gotten so much attention, truly! Thank you all so much! Would anyone be interested in potential stories with the other characters too? I’m more than happy to take requests if anyone has any they’d like! Anyway, I hope you like this part! Check out the first two parts here: Part 1 , Part 2
_________________________________________________
However, now he had a new challenge to face and it was how exactly he was going to transport you back. He didn’t want you to step on glass or fall through any of the floorboards that had been rotting away for ages. DogDay looked at you and you cocked your head like a confused pup as he thought.
The action would’ve been adorable, had you not been so fragile looking. Then an idea came to him, he could just carry you to ensure that you weren’t in risk of any of the debris being potentially harmful to you.
Slowly, he rose from the ground and easily towered over you. Being that he was a product of the Bigger Bodies Initiative, it meant that he was much larger than even grown adults, so it was no surprise that you were minuscule in comparison.
You didn’t flinch or back away from him as he stood before you, instead you seemed to be fascinated with his size. Much like CatNap, the leader of the Smiling Critters was also quadrupedal. He raised one of his forelegs and extended his open palm to you, to which you immediately placed your small hand in his and looked up at him, a proud little smile on your face. An amused exhale left him, taking several moments to simply admire the tenacity that you possessed at such a young age.
But he gently shook his head before he spoke, his voice low and as soft as his dirtied fur. “Would you allow me to carry you?” You seemed to think his words over before nodding and stepping closer to him, raising your arms as you looked up at him expectantly.
It was such a simple action, a display of the innocence you still had despite the traumatic things you had been forced to endure. DogDay felt the hope in his chest bloom as he looked down at you, a reason to keep fighting against The Prototype’s control was standing right in front of him.
Gently, he reached forward and placed his hands under your raised arms, lifting you off of the ground. You were far too small to need to be carried with two of his hands. So once you were secure in one of his arms, he allowed his other foreleg to return to the ground.
You were mainly resting in his palm, even going as far as shifting your position so you could see where DogDay was taking you. He lifted you slightly higher so now you were closer to his chest, as if he were attempting to hide you to some extent. You didn’t seem opposed to the closeness at all, your little eyes were drawn to the sun pendant that was attached to the zipper that ran down his neck and torso.
He didn’t seem to notice what your attention was focused on, as he started to slowly and carefully leave the room they were in. Walking on three legs wasn’t much of a challenge, but it certainly made his return sluggish. His eyes and ears were on high alert, making sure to stay completely silent as he listened and looked for any possible sign of CatNap.
He was cautious when it was just himself at risk, now he was even more on edge and tense as he made the short trek back. You seemed more than content to rest in his gentle hold and paw at the sun that you were so focused on, the soft clinks and protest of the pendant as it made contact with the metal of the zipper.
The sound, as well as knowing that you were momentarily safe, was the only thing that kept his spirits high. He knew that you would be fawned over by the other remaining two of the Smiling Critters, something that could finally give the others, and you as well, some sort of joy.
It felt like it had been hours by the time DogDay had finally reached the room where what remained of the Smiling Critters sought refuge, knowing well that it was only due to stress that it had felt so dreadfully long. Gently, he lowered you to the ground and waited until you stood up on your own. Once you had, you turned to look at him expectantly.
The orange furred dog raised the same hand he had been using to carry you, to knock on the door three times in quick succession. He was met with nothing but silence but that was to be expected, a warm welcome could happen behind closed doors and once they were out of the hall. He proceeded to open the door slowly, gesturing for you to enter the room first.
It was a force of habit really, DogDay had always been the last one to enter any room when he had company. It was to make sure that if any harm were to befall anyone, that it would be him rather than those he had been following after.
You looked at him, hesitant at first but upon peering into the room, your hesitance dissipated. CraftyCorn had risen from her place amongst the ground, paper and various mediums used to draw scattered along the ground, and noticed that their leader was not alone. Her hooves covered her mouth as you entered the room and looked at her. You didn’t seem afraid, more curious than anything.
Your little eyes fell to the floor, noticing the crayons and markers next to a drawing of what appeared to be a red flower. It wasn’t one you could recognize, but you seemed amazed by it nonetheless. The unicorn also turned to look at the art supplies among the ground before her gaze met DogDay’s, who was currently shutting the door behind him.
Their confusion mimicked much of his own when he had first found you, but he would answer her questions later. For now, he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the new set of friendly faces you were interacting with. Bobby BearHug had also turned to face the door when she heard it close, her eyes immediately landing on you as well. The red bear didn’t move closer, fearing that her mind was playing tricks on her for several moments.
However, when you didn’t disappear or fade away, she realized that what she was seeing was real. The leader of the Smiling Critters noticed her uncertainty and gestured for her to come over as well.
Meanwhile, you had turned your attention to CraftyCorn and pointed down at the paper scattered on the ground. Without words, the artist of the bunch knew what you were asking. “Would you like to join me?” Their voice was soft and hushed, but when you nodded and sat down near the crafts in a cross-legged position, a small laugh couldn’t help but leave her lips.
Bobby BearHug had also approached, giving a small wave in greeting to which you were more than willing to return. You then looked back at DogDay, who was still standing by the door and hadn’t quite moved upon entering.
He watched as the other remaining two of the Smiling Critters sat down around you, content as he noticed the way their moods had brightened substantially. You weren’t afraid of the size of them, despite the fact that you were dwarfed as they sat beside you.
CraftyCorn was more than willing to share her supplies and handed you one of the less dirtied sheets of paper they had. “What’s your name?” Bobby BearHug asked, looking over to see what you were drawing at the moment. Her voice was warm despite the way it wavered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself in an embrace of her own as she waited.
You paused, blue crayon in hand, before beginning to write something on the sheet of paper that was set in front of you. Your strokes were slow and, despite the awkward way you held the colored wax, legible to some extent. “That’s a beautiful name!” The red bear complimented to which CraftyCorn nodded their agreement, a proud beaming smile took its place upon your face as the two agreed that your name was wonderful.
You then turned around, bright and excited to show DogDay what you had written on the paper. The way you still managed to be such a bundle of joy in the circumstances was admirable and it warmed his heart. He walked closer and knelt down, gently grabbing the bottom of the paper with his index finger and thumb.
You waited patiently for his reaction, eagerly looking up at him. “Bobby wasn’t lying, you have a wonderful name.” DogDay replied, his voice full of warmth and affection as you smiled at him. He was about to return to his place by the door when you patted the ground behind you, seemingly waiting for something.
The orange dog was surprised by the silent request to join you, but he complied. The leader joined the remaining Smiling Critters and you, who waited until the dog sat down, before you turned the paper over and began to draw.
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kinopio-writes · 2 months
Note
Hello dearie!!
How are you? I hope you're doing well!
I saw that your asks were open,and your content is really cool and silly,So I decided to leave you a nice ask to enjoy!
Could I have a headcanon platonic! Alastor,Vox and Husk finding a random child next to their dead mother, except that they don't really understand that she's dead and think she's sleeping,so they pity the child and take them in?
The child is really polite and nice,pretty calm,too. Sure,they do child stuff,like running around,being excited,etc,but they still are more calm than others.
They always talk about their mother,how she's the only one left,and how they love her.
Would the characters say the truth? Would they lie?
I just love hurt/comfort and platonic relationships so :3
Anyways,I hope that's not too much,and that you enjoy writing this!
Have a really nice day,don't forget to drink and take breaks!
Stay proud!
-Nina <33
A/N: Thank you for the reminders, heh. Btw, I’m going to have to change the reasons as to why they took you in because I just don’t see characters like Alastor and Vox taking you in because of pity. Sorry about that. The rest is untouched. You’ll still get a bit of that hurt/comfort (mostly from Husk, lol. Both Alastor and Vox are non-existent, but Alastor is somehow better than Vox).
Warnings: Mentions of death
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Alastor, Husk, and Vox adopting a deceased mom’s child
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Alastor
• Alastor paid no mind to the dead corpse
• it didn’t really look that appetizing anyway
• “How unfortunate.” You heard a weird voice from behind you as a hand was placed on your shoulder. “A child mourning in the demise of its mother. Tragic, really. You have my condolences.”
• “What are you talking about, mister?” You stared up at the mysterious man, watching his eyes flick from your left to right eye while his grin only grew as the seconds went by
• “I think you’ve just found yourself the perfect dwelling,” he abruptly said, letting go of your shoulder to fix his bowtie as he sprung back to life. “Why don’t you come with me?”
• “But what about my mother?”
• “She is in good hands, I can assure you.” He offered his hand to you. “Come along, now. Children shouldn’t dwell long in places like these.”
• and so he took you in to be a patron at his hotel
• I mean, what’s more easier to redeem than a child? (assuming you’re a sinner. I don’t know if it’s canon anymore that only hellborns can reproduce. Look at Cannibal Town’s people)
• he intended to leave you in the rest of the residents’ care while they could only guess what his actual motivation was for taking you in
• but it seemed you ended up favoring him more than the rest
• you’d follow him around like a duckling—a lost puppy—you’re attached to him like a leech
• and you’re so well-behaved, too
• up until he leaves your sight
• he actually leaves the hotel a lot more often now because of that
• he finds you wrecking chaos in the hotel entertaining as hell
• and the fact that the others beg him to come back to calm you down
• I don’t think you would ever know what happened to your mother
• even when you talk about her a lot
• those rambles never really prompt him to say anything
• well, it’s not as if he knew what happened to her
• but, hey, at least he listens!
• maybe it’s because he feels a little nostalgic hearing the way you talk about her…
———
Husk
• Husk was fucking spooked when he found you lying beside your dead mother
• not because of the corpse, but because of the way you were staring at him
• with eyes dull and wide open, just like your mother
• while Husk wouldn’t have given two shits if it was a grown-ass adult, you were a child
• so he took you in
• “But what about my mother?”
• “Shi—I, uh—your momma will tag along soon. Now c’mon. She wouldn’t want you out here alone.”
• since Husk is constantly around the hotel, there were never really instances where you wreaked havoc
• you just silently watch him tend the bar and sometimes talk about your mother
• your talks about how much you love her make him feel pretty guilty for some reason
• but he’d probably tell you when you’re older enough
• only if you were asking him about her though
• he wouldn’t want to have to sit you down and tell you something that sensitive of a topic when you didn’t even ask
• “Why don’t I have a mother?” you would suddenly ask when you turned 18
• today was your birthday. Charlie insisted on having a little party for you just like every year. But you didn’t want one; you wanted to be with Husk for the day
• the man in question sighed
• he knew you were building up the courage to ask all day
• “I’m gonna give it to you straight, kid, I don’t know what exactly happened to her. All I know is that she’s in a better place.”
• “Oh…”
• “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He continued, voice a little unsure, “Not as a bartender…but as a dad.”
• you smiled, grateful. “I think I’ve already said plenty when I was younger. But thanks, Dad.”
• he smiled back
• you two would then sit in silence together, basking in each other’s presence
———
Vox
• so, uh, I’m going to have to completely skip the taking you in part with Vox because I genuinely cannot see him adopting a random child (unless he could gain something, but, like, you’re just a kid)
• so you’ll just get the aftermath of it (hope that’s okay)
• based on the way he handled Val’s tantrum, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s somewhat good with children
• but he’s a pretty busy guy
• he doesn’t have the time to take care of a random child, so he’d make sure to keep an eye on you on his cameras
• but despite that, your existence in the tower warrants his
• as you’re too chaotic whenever he isn’t around
• but only around the other expendable employees
• you’re relatively well-behaved when Velvette and Valentino are with you
• but he doesn’t exactly trust them to take care of you
• they aren’t exactly good with children
• so he tried doing video calls
• you will definitely grow up as an iPad kid
• he’d hear you talk about your mom during those calls
• he’d let you go on and on, but it’s not guaranteed that he’ll listen
• I don’t think he would ever tell you what happened to her (he doesn’t know, anyway)
• he won’t lie, he’d just work around your question
• skillfully
• like, extremely so
• even if you ask him directly, he still manages to dodge the question somehow
• I don’t know what else to say, he’s gonna be a pretty distant father—
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sophswritingthings · 6 months
Note
what if a mizu x fem reader who’s her childhood crush? fem reader is like master eiji’s granddaughter or a child who was raised by him/visits him often. mizu sees her around often as a child and falls for her. years later, reader saves mizu and is like “miss me?” and Mizu’s first instinct is to tackle them into a tight hug
pairing: mixu x fem!childhoodcrush!reader
warning(s): the usual, y'know, swearing
a/n: I know I have others who put in a request before this, but I HAVE TO INDULGE RQ THEN I'LL GET BACK TO IT. this is so cute anon
summary: mizu hadn't grown up around people; she wasn't ever allowed outside. that was until she found the sword father, and stayed with him. she meets you, a pretty young girl her age, who happens to be his granddaughter. she falls for you--and years later--when she sees you again.. all of those feelings begin to resurface.
word count: 950 words / 5,010 characters
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mizu stopped in her tracks, holding a large pair of long iron tongs in her small hands. she saw you, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. a pretty young lady, about her age.
what would a girl such as yourself want to do with sword father?
she cleared her throat.
"hello," you murmur to her. you'd never seen her before; and those eyes... blue as the water. "who is this.. grandfather?"
you turn to your grandfather. he holds up a hand, gesturing for you to silence. he than gestures for mizu to hand him the tongs, in which, she does.
your grandfather doesn't answer you, so you take to a different approach. just ask her directly.
"who are you?" you murmur, "and what is your name?"
she clears her throat again, coughing a little before she spoke. so awkward, and for what?
"mizu," she replied rather quietly. “I-I’m.. staying here. with your um, grandfather.”
you chuckle at her awkward tone. you smile at her, offering your hand for her to shake. you were a little taller than her.
she grabbed your hand, shaking it softly.
from then on; you had visited every so often, when your mother would allow it. you two got along like two peas in a pod; you were best friends.
and every time mizu saw you, she swore you got more beautiful.
that was until she had gone. one day when you had come to visit; the girl had disappeared into the wind. your grandfather had told you that she had disappeared on a quest.
and you never saw her again.
that was until now.
you were settled outside your home, knitting and watching the people go by along the cobbled streets.
someone of… interest, caught your eye.
the minute you saw them; you knew exactly who it was.
mizu.
your first instinct was to call out to her; but it seemed that wasn’t exactly possible right now. she was being chased, a sword attached to her hip.
you couldn’t just sit here, right? no, you couldn’t. you leapt to your feet, throwing yourself between the now seemingly samurai mizu, and the one chasing her.
“leave them go,” you hiss.
“move, girl,” he grumbles back, looking up at mizu than down at you. “he’s killed half my men!”
“and I’m sure he had a good reason to,” you glance at mizu over your shoulder, smiling softly. “head off and leave us be now. whatever business you have to settle with him, you can settle in a honorable matter like men.”
the man groaned, glaring at mizu as he stomped off.
you turned to mizu with a bright, bright smile.
“miss me?”
you giggle, gazing up at her. god she'd gotten tall; you used to be taller than her, now she was probably a foot taller than you!
she says nothing.
a gentle smile spreads across her lips, and she tackles you into a tight hug.
you laugh, rolling onto the snowy cobblestone ground with the woman. your blushing a little, seeing as she’s now sitting on top of you, gazing up at her.
“I suppose you did, than!” you laugh.
she sits you up, nuzzling into your neck.
“I did. I really did.”
you were beautiful as ever. maybe even more beautiful than the last she had seen of you. a proper woman, one of she was not, but that didn’t matter. she was happy to see you after all this time. and you had saved her, no less.
“so.. what are you up to, now?” you gesture her up and down, “a samurai, are you? I thought you would be married by now..”
that made her flinch, seeing as she was once married, and the son of a bitch turned her in. and she may or may not have killed him.
she wasn’t going to tell you that, though, because you'd certainly call her stupid if she did.
her sights had changed, certainly.
“I am a samurai, yes,” she replied, glancing away.
“and what brings you back around here, hm?” you annunciate the hm, smiling as she helps you to your feet, holding her hat under her arm.
“a quest. my vow.”
her vow. yes, you thought she'd told you about that.
“I didn’t think you would still live here.” she replies. a woman as beautiful as you had to be married off, right?
“I am waiting for my father to find me a match,” you roll your eyes. “not that I want him to.”
she cocked her head. so you weren’t married. and for some reason, now she was blushing, thoughts swarming her mind.
maybe she could be that match—
no. mizu, no.
you wouldn’t think of it. you looked at her as a friend, a childhood friend you hadn’t seen in years.
“under.. understood,” she whispers.
if you were being honest with yourself, you'd always had a little crush on mizu. and looking at her now, the strength she simply admitted from her, those good looks. those eyes.
your father would never allow it. but who cared what he wanted?
“are you going to visit? eiji, I mean.” you murmur. “I-I could accompany you, if you are.”
“ah, right—“ she stops herself as she hears you offer to come with her, “you could if you want to.”
“yes. yes, I’d like that.” you nod, beginning to walk side by side with her. you gently brushed her hand, giving her a small smile.
it made her heart pound in her damn chest. it told her something, maybe you wanted to explore this. you had obviously noticed it on her face.
she clasped your hand as you walked.
she wanted to explore it, too.
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a/n: mizu and a childhood crush is always my favorite <333
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hells-wasabii · 3 months
Text
Character: Alastor
Type: Headcanons(X g/n reader; general)
A/N: Hi, wasabi here happy to bring my take on how a relationship with Alastor would play out.
Alastor had never been too keen on the idea of a relationship. Honestly, he never quite saw the appeal. The radio demon was even weary of his friends, not that they knew that of course. But that all changed when he met you.
At first, it was the same as all of the other demons he had met since his untimely demise. A possible means to progress in whatever plans he may hold. But you were different, weren't you? He couldn't quite place it, but you were something special. Maybe you would be of more use to him alive and free from a contract until he could figure out just what exactly it was that made you special. And that definitely made you interesting.
Speaking of interesting: When the Hazbin Hotel came to be, it was only naturally that you went along, whether you believed in the whole redemption shtick or not.
Of course, the hotelier is nothing but a gentleman, whether it be a compliment out of nowhere here, opening the door for you there, if there was an opportunity he'd take it
Though you can't hang around the radio demon without him being kinda creepy and cryptic on occasion. If you are weirded out by it, he'd try to keep it on the down low, around you at least.
Another thing to note is he would for sure be the jealous type. He wouldn't particularly like it when someone else has stolen your attention away, he does enjoy it quite a bit after all. Now, if you were to be jealous with him? Oh, he would BASK in it, outright loves it. Sometimes he might even try to make you jealous on purpose, though he doesn't usually do so maliciously, more in a comical, obvious way.
Don't expect to be surrounded by new tech either, this man has a love for the classics that's only rivaled by his care for you. He'll make a face if you try to chat him up about newer tech. Not that he doesn't care for your interests, it's more that he himself has a distaste for it, as well as the demons that are majorly behind it.
Honestly, with our lovely radio demon, he probably doesn't even realize he's grown so attached to you until someone points it out to him. Husk and Nifty definitely had a bet or something going on that Angel Dust probably got in on too.
He might even try to distance himself from you, not wanting to open himself up to weakness but by this point it is already too late. The thought of not having you around anymore left him pretty distressed, to the point that he just resigned to keep you by his side for as long as you would have him.
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johnpriceslamb · 3 months
Note
heyy is it okay if u maybe due a little story of arthur morgan?? i jus love him sm
arthur comes back to camp after a job in a bad angry mood since it didnt go to plan then the reader (being his sweetheart gf) cheers him up :(🩷 -🎀
𝓐𝓛𝓦𝓐𝓨𝓢 𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔𝓥𝓔𝓡 , ˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗
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˗ˏˋ꒰ The obvious annoyance which swelled in his stomach almost dies instantly when he makes eye-contact with you. ꒱ ˎˊ˗
BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┆female ! reader . hyper-fem ! reader . Arthur Morgan is a die-for 4 his sweetheart gf . OOC ! Arthur Morgan . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than character mentioned below . not proof-read . 1.0k wrdz
꒰ arthur morgan x fem ! reader . ꒱
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Muddy, wet, icky.
Sweat easily adheres to his already warm skin, rolling down the creases on his forehead and clinging to the ends of his hair. His clothes are attached to his sweat-stained skin, rusty spurrs jingling loudly with the leading sounds of water-filled boots. The sun glares down at him, taunting him even, to make his day even more miserable as it scorches the back of his neck because of the hat; lack thereof- lost from travelling back.
He’ll go find for it soon enough. Just not now.
It’s unlikely for a usual stagecoach robbery to go wrong, he’s done this many times before. Maybe he was starting to feel the effects of ageing. But somehow, things went south a bit too quickly and the man ended up in.. water. With many dead bodies floating around, and cash that wasn’t even worth it at the end.
Just thinking about that whole situation almost makes a vein pop in his head.
A grunt and a low huff escapes his chapped lips when entering the vicinity of the camp. The same water-filled boots squeak each step he took as he storms back to his bed-roll. Everyone knew he was in a bad mood, despite being far away.
Unfortunately for him, someone could not take the hint.
Miss Grimshaw.
“Mister Morgan.” She greets.
“..Miss Grimshaw.” He grunts, wiping the mud off his face just to seem less.. bearable to look at.
The older woman stares down at him for a while, sizing him up with narrowed eyes. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been putting money in the camps communal funds for a very long time.” She prods at him.
She does not leave any room for him to reply back with just one simple glare. Arthur is smart enough to let out a low sigh and nod at her words mindlessly, not really paying attention. Said-woman sneers at him as she usually does with the others. The sight of the mud coated on his garments caused the wrinkles on her cheek to crease further, furrowing her brows in disdain.
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She flails her arms around, “A grown man covered in crap like this—” Her hand is raised, but with a light tap on her shoulder from behind comes the reluctancy of lowering her hand down to peer whom distracted her.
A meek, soft voice from behind immediately catches his attention, “Miss? Ive finished folding your clothes.”
Her attitude does a huge spin. She’s softer now, bickering to herself before mumbling a ‘thank you, dear.’ You tell her that you’ve set it by her bed-roll, to which she nods and walks away, leaving you with the man whom seemed like he was about to burst from irritation. He swore you were some kind of angel in disguise, how you manage to make her soften up just a bit is beyond his comprehension.
His eyes land on yours. It was almost like a non-verbal way of saying ‘thank you’ from practically losing the beast.
You look up at him with those familiar beady eyes, a small smile etched on your face as you eagerly come closer to him. Almost immediately do you feel the aura he radiated- tired, exhausted, angry.. and most importantly, wants to be comforted.
“Oh, dear..” You pity him akin to a pup getting kicked. The way his muck-covered clothes wiped a bit of grime on yours is something you don’t question, “Are you—
You don’t have time to say your full sentence. He’s grabbed you by the waist and easily pulls you to his tent. A soft squeal escapes your lips at the sudden movements, eyes widening at how quick he was.
And you’re squished to his chest, practically glued to him as he wraps his arms around you. The muck is easily visible on your clean dress, but did you mind? No.
You loosen up in his tight hold, placing your chin on the curve of his neck. Your finger-nails drag up and down on his back, drawing little patterns and shapes. Despite being absolutely humid, Arthur doesn’t let that become an obstacle when being with you.
Your serenade-like voice pulls him back to reality, sleepy eyes staring down at yours.
“Was it that bad?” You unconsciously touch his growing stubble, noting to yourself to cut it later. He leans into the palm of your hand, nodding wordlessly.
“Bad don’t even manage to describe the hell I went through today.” He squishes you tighter like a stuffie. He buries his face in your shoulder, the faint scent of pinewood and cinnamon invading his nose- and gosh was it such an addicting smell. He notices the simple bow you adorned in your hair, and the little bow sewed to your top. He noticed every single thing, despite feeling like he’s about to burst.
Slowly but surely, did the irritation fade away from his stomach as he holds you closely.
“‘M sorry to hear,” You apologised, frowning at the sight of your beloved so worked up. Sometimes, he wondered how the hell you even manage to be apart of this gang, “D’ya wanna talk about it?”
He shakes his head with a low grunt, “Nah. Just wan’ be near you.”
The layers-upon-layers of light pink coloured frills covered his lap as you were plopped on him. He mindlessly fiddles with the pretty design, sighing loudly.
“‘M always here to talk to, y’know?” You press a kiss on his cheek.
“I know.” He sighs, cuddling you closely. You really were an angel.
“I don’t deserve you.” He mumbles quietly. You squint your eyes at his own comments, clearly not like it.
“You do.”
A moment of quiet and peace between the two of you, his hand affectionately squeezes yours as a way to comfort himself more than you.
Suddenly, the realisation hits you.
“..Arthur, think you ‘n’ I needa get a bath after this.”
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yesimwriting · 4 months
Text
Match Burns
A/n saltburn rewired a part of my brain
also my original idea was way too long for a one-shot so now i'm splitting it into 2 (maybe 3?) parts, if you'd be interested in that pls lmk lol
Summary: Despite your charm and kind disposition, Oliver has never been able to let himself be fond of you. Not with the way that Felix gravitates to you and your obliviousness to the attention. When you're invited to join him and Felix at Saltburn, his wariness of you morphs into an oddly suffocating dislike, until he realizes how to turn you into a way to get 'in' with Felix.
Pairing(s): eventual felix x reader x oliver, current oliver x felix (unreciprocated) and felix x reader (unreciprocated)
Warnings: potential typos (i'm tired yall), first time writing characters so potentially ooc?, canon-level toxic thoughts/plotting, some canon deviation (felix is alive and well to me and it's staying that way), oliver lowkey hating reader,, but kind of in the grown up version of a kid pulling another kid's pigtails when they have a crush lmao
----
The qualities that make the others adore you, that leave them with no choice but to treat you as some kind of dorm hall trapped princess, are the parts of you that make it difficult for Oliver to tolerate you.
You may not be the heir of some great fortune, the kind of commodity that can only be created through generations of pristine breeding and a lifetime of wealth that comes attached to that kind of pedigree. But you do have something.
His peers may see your self sacrificing nature in the ear you're always willing to lend or the time you're willing to give away without a second thought as instinctual kindness. But Oliver knows how to look beyond careful facades, the stained glass people use to warp the way they're perceived. He knows that your too sweet smiles and soft eyes are just your forms of social currency.
And the most off putting part of it all? The only person that can get away with pretending to not notice the way people react to you, is you.
Sometimes, when his thoughts drift to you without his permission, Oliver convinces himself that it's impossible for anyone to not see your softheartedness as the compensation that it is. And then someone--Felix, says something that is so transparently devoted, Oliver knows that it's worked. Give people what they want, and eventually you'll ensnare them.
Oliver let himself believe that he was finally reaching the peak of Felix's favor after being invited to spend the summer at his family's estate. Then, two days into his stay, Felix informed him that you'd be joining them at the end of the week.
The thought of you and your sense of humor that always seems to toe the line between witty and sarcastic; and the warm feel of your hand on his, or anyone's, arm, because when you listen you do so with your entire body; and your bright eyes that seem to see through everything but yourself, at Saltburn seemed to take something from this away from him. You didn't even need a sob story or to flash an indicator of something in desperate need of repair to get invited.
You were just you, and that was enough.
The way Felix told him only strengthened his chargin. She's friends with you, isn't she? I've seen you two together at the library.
The two of you. Not something that Oliver chose. You appeared one day at his side, on a too warm day for late November in Oxford. A too crowded library had the universe dropping you onto his lap. He accepted your presence because of the way the world seemed to light up for those around you.
But now there are no crowds of admirers to divide the attention. There is only Felix and his family, and with just two guests being invited to spend the summer, it'd be easy for the ultra wealthy to turn this into a competition for favorite pet.
It's also more than that. Alone here, it was easy to pretend Felix's attachment to you didn't exist. But now--now he could easily be the second favorite out of a set of two.
----
There was only one part of your arrival that Oliver was looking forward to, and you stole it from him.
He wanted to witness a crack, a wavering in your assuredness. The size of the estate would get to you, would make you--for once--seem small. You'd hesitate, maybe even see Felix in a different way that'd have you rethinking your friendship.
Your eyes had widened, a combination of shock and awe meshing together behind your gaze. Oliver could feel it, the moment that you'd reveal yourself as susceptible to shrinking in on yourself...and then your eyes met his, and the look vanished before it could fully take root.
You grinned at him and then at Felix, abandoning your luggage next to the car that picked you up before approaching them with unashamed enthusiasm. You pulled each of them into a quick hug, your warmth an ache against him. You didn't attempt to suppress your joy until Duncan appeared, standoffish as ever as Felix introduced you. That was just enough satisfaction to make Oliver want it more.
He's still thinking about it now, imagining just what it'd take to leave you vulnerable. You don't sense the resentful nature of his thoughts. You never do. Not even when Felix tells you that you'll be staying in the room connected to his through a shared bathroom.
Felix suggests giving you some time to rest before dinner. You accept the offer, tired from the back forth traveling from the UK to the US. Your visit to your mother had been so brief, you accepted Felix's offer so quickly. Maybe there's more tension in your family than you've admitted.
"She likes you a lot." Felix's low tone snaps Oliver out of his thoughts. It's a strangely nervous statement that doesn't make sense. You're friends with both of them, and if Felix means the statement in the romantic sense, he's wrong. Oliver's in the habit of taking note of the way people see him, and he can't remember instance in which you've ever looked at him like that.
He could see you feeling that way about Felix easily. You're around Felix often and while there is an underlying hint of stiffness when you're around him, it isn't a sign of dislike. You're determined to like him less, you're dedicated to not loving him. An amicable, but ultimately pointless goal. Who doesn't end up loving Felix?
Oliver doesn't know where this conversation is going, so he decides to keep his response simple. "She likes you, too."
"N--" Felix starts to deny the point, but realizes a full dismissal wouldn't be true. You do like him, it's just--it's different. "She trusts you." Felix shakes his head once, still uncertain. "I know we're friends, but sometimes, especially when we're alone, it-it feels like she sees me as a match that's starting burn too close to her fingers."
There it is. Oliver can't blame you for your precautions. Felix has turned the heads so many women--and some men--and he allows them to hang around him openly. His desirability, his options have never been secret. And your only overlap into his world is going to the same college. Oliver's even heard of you deciding to spend the night alone instead of with Felix because you don't always feel safe at those kinds of parties.
You're playing it safe, like a very good girl from suburbia, USA. It's your way of surviving, but Oliver can't quite respect the choice. You're smart enough to realize that loving Felix is like playing with matches, but you're not strong enough to realize that the proximity would be worth a few burns.
"I know we're a little different, but I don't want her to think I'd ever make her do anything." The obliviousness in Felix thinking that this is just about social circles is endearing in an odd way. "How'd you two get so close, anyway?"
Oliver isn't sure so close is the right way to phrase things. Sure, you're attentive and a little touchy, but that's just how people like you move through the world. Besides, if anything, Oliver thinks you choose his company so often because he's never given you the kind of desperate attention everyone else gives you.
Oliver forces a smile, pushing against the thought of being the one to bridge the gap between the two of you. It twists at his stomach. "What? Are you asking me for girl advice?"
Felix cracks a grin, playfully nudging Oliver with his shoulder. "You know how I meant it."
The words are light, but still another attempt at getting a concrete answer. There's an edge there that Oliver's familiar with, an implication of a feeling he's gotten used to. That chest tightening, what's so special about them? And now the Felix Catton is viewing him in that light.
Personal emotions aside, this--you--could be more useful than Oliver thought.
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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year
Text
Let’s Talk About the Ferris Wheel
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This scene in the Ferris Wheel is incredibly intimate. We have Kazuki and Rei actually communicating with each other and discussing seriously about the current situation they are in. But, before that, let’s take a moment to talk about this sequence of events with Rei and Miri.
Miri asks Rei:
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“Are Ferris wheels scary?” And Rei tells her no, that they aren’t.
Once they’re on the Ferris wheel, Rei asks Miri:
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“It’s not scary?” And Miri replies that it’s not.
This is interesting dialogue, because for Kazuki and Rei, this Ferris wheel ride probably is quite scary, right. An adult fear: losing a child they’ve come to care for and have become attached to. 
But, the narrative is telling us that: The Ferris wheel is NOT scary.
Hopefully, this means that we don’t have to be scared about the future plotlines, maybe shocked and surprised, but not scared.
Of course, we can also look at the projection of the Ferris wheel and the conversations and dialogue as being related to the plot structure of the series so far, and the mindset of the characters at those junctures.
Right, before they got on this ride of caring for Miri, the thought was rather scary, because they were both out of their depths. Then, we get a shot of the carriage they are in, and it rising up the Ferris wheel:
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It’s after this that we have Miri responding to Rei that it isn’t scary. This is around the time the two decided to be her papas and started getting comfortable within their roles as being Miri’s papas. Around Episodes 3 - 6. Seeing them become more and more like a family with each passing episode was beautiful (still is).
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As they’re getting closer to the very top of the Ferris Wheel, Kazuki brings up the cat. A difficult conversation, one that deals with attachment. In Episodes 7 - 8, that’s when we really see Kazuki and Rei’s decision to devote themselves to Miri and their family come into full force. 
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Their attachment with Miri really kicks in around Episodes 7 - 9, this is when they start thinking about placing Miri first, like Kazuki mentions here:
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He talks about wanting her to eat Hamburg steak and smile forever. He’s placing her happiness first. That’s an extremely parental view. Kazuki is expressing the practical side of parenthood, while Rei’s expression here, the sound of upset he makes:
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Highlights the emotional and painful side of making such a decision. Rei’s never felt emotional attachment like this before, never had to lose it either. Kazuki has, though it was unintentional and not the same as this situation. 
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The Ferris wheel is now shown to be at the top. The climax, episodes 9 and 10. Episode 9 was the climax of them becoming a family unit - Kazuki and Rei had worked through their individual demons and both picked returning home to their family. And in Episode 9, we see Miri acknowledging Kazuki and Rei as her family. That was the climax to the “family” side of the series. 
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Kazuki tells Miri, when they reach the “tippity-top” that: “That’s the best part!” And, it was! Episode 9 was so, so heartwarming. 
But, this week’s episode, Episode 10, is in the falling action. The part where shit gets tough again. Just like it got tough for Kazuki and Rei in the rising action of Episodes 7 & 8, it’ll get tough for them again in Episodes 10 & 11, possibly 12, too. The difference being that this time they are facing it together, instead of separately.
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Kazuki acknowledges that he’s gotten more than he thought he ever would thanks to Miri:
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And Rei’s grown a lot emotionally because of Miri, experienced things he never thought he would. He’s become a much more functioning person since she’s come into his life:
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For them, this seems and feels like the end of the ride. But, it’s not. The Ferris wheel is still in the falling action stage:
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They haven’t gotten off the ride yet. And we don’t see them get off the ride (we just see them after it’s done). Kazuki says, “Time to wake up from the dream,” as they are going down. But waking up from a dream is different from a dream ending. 
In the previous acts of the series, Kazuki and Rei were aware of the dangers their job and situation with Miri could place Miri in, but they weren’t facing the realities of their situation either.
Now the story is in the falling action, the characters are facing some harsh realities: 
About their job.
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About society.
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About Miri’s birth mother.
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Buddy Daddies is a series that wants to explore the themes of “a bloodless family” and “two people of the same sex raising a child,” and they are doing it in modern day Japan. Not in a fantasy world, not through metaphors, and with a foundation based in some level of reality.
This series is exploring tough themes that aren’t always easily accepted or easy to navigate in real life. These ideas can be challenging, and right now, our main characters are experiencing that. 
Pushback.
Kyutaro with his hard truths about the messiness of Miri’s parental situation, of them killing her birth father, and the fact that these issues are going to eventually catch up to them.
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Misaki reiterating that danger, and having the lawful advantage of being Miri’s blood, while Kazuki really takes in the reality that society, especially Japanese society, still centers motherhood when it comes to childcare.
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But, like I stated, this is still just the falling action. It’s not the conclusion. There are three more episodes left.
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There is still time for them and things to change. But, like Kyutaro stated back in Episode 5, it still remains to be seen if these changes that will come will be for the better or worst.
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youthofpandas · 2 months
Text
Call Her Ishmael (or: a trans reading of one of my favorite Limbus characters)
Hi, I have been thinking about writing something like this since Canto V first released and today I finally felt inspired to actually make this... A compilation of the parts of Ishmael's story that lead me to reading her as trans <3 and why I think that understanding her character though that lens works so well
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We begin with a woman stuck in the mundane. No plans for the future, no dreams of a life beyond the one she is currently living in, and that life is one she has long grown tired of. And she decides she would rather quit living that life, even if it would kill her. Everyone told her not to do this, but she wanted (needed) to do something new with her life.
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She finds Ahab here, when she is at this low where she is unsure of where to go from here now that she has cast her old life away. She looks at Ahab and sees a woman with goals, determination, serious plans for the future she is willing to commit to. And she wants to be just like that woman. She wants to be a woman who will choose what her destiny is, choose what life she has.
"I hoped to be like her one day. To be someone who will face the destiny of her own choosing. To have something I could give it my all with conviction and without a moment of hesitation."
And when she gets on that boat and starts this new chapter in her life, well. There she meets Queequeg, and is asked for her name...
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Queequeg asking her name, something that surprises Ishmael, and complimenting her hair is a defining moment in Ishmael's life and in their relationship. And not only is it the first conversation they have, it is the also last thing Queequeg asks of her. To hear Ishmael's name one more time is something that will bring not only herself comfort, but she knows will stabilize Ishmael as well in this moment. That it will bring her back to when they had first met, to the fond memories of a good friend who had asked for her name. Ishmael's name, her identity, the one she forged on that boat even through great difficulty is what shaped her into being herself... That is how their relationship begins and ends...
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There is also a recurring theme of being reborn, of happiness being found in another life that is kinder to them both. Ishmael dreams of a life where they can break out of their cocoons. She wants to bury her past and had no dreams of the future before joining the Pequod, before meeting Queequeg and finding someone she wants a future with. Through Queequeg, through the woman who thinks her hair is the brilliant color of sunset and asked for her name, Ishmael is capable of imagining a destiny of her own choosing just like she had wanted when she met Ahab. (She isn't able to chase after it, not yet, because of Ahab's influence over the Pequod, but she for the first time can at least dream of a future where she is happy)
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When tragedy strikes, she is left as, in her mind, the sole survivor of the crew, she has lost Queequeg, lost Ahab, lost her chance at finding happiness and purpose. It's then that she takes Queequeg's rope (the thing that kept her alive! Queequeg throughout their time knowing each other is always there to save her and help her keep on living) and makes it into a headband, attaches cute bows to it, a bit of femininity that is intrinsically attached to the woman who helped save her. She grows out her hair, her beautiful sunset colored hair, and it is so heart warming. For a long time I assumed that her not cutting her hair was done out of mourning, out of an unwillingness to move on from the life she had on that ship, but instead it was because Queequeg had loved her and she had loved her friend in kind.
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In conclusion I love Ishmael very much and I like to rotate her around. Everything from her metaphors of being stuck in a cocoon and wanting to break free, her envy of Ahab's ability to find purpose so easily, her relationship with Queequeg that helped inspire her to dream for more to dream of a future where she is happy,, it is all very good and to me reading her as trans strengthens the themes of her story. I've watched the final part of the Canto V dungeon several times over when my friends arrive at that part of the story, and the Call Me Ishmael line always makes me start tearing up.
Ishmael starts as an unhappy office worker with no future and it is a life she cannot continue living, she meets an older woman who has the drive and passion to chase after her goals and wants to be like her when she is older, she has a life defining moment where another woman asks for her name and wants to be good friends with her, that woman will save her in so many ways and she will love that woman so deeply for how she helped influence her life, she sees herself trapped in a cocoon and wants to break free, she dreams of her and that woman will persevere, how they will live out the rest of their days, countless mirror worlds of happiness spent at each other's side. She starts the game proper with her hair grown long, ribbons attached to a rope that helped save her that represents the woman who had saved her before. She ends her chapter finding a new adventure to go on, one will she get to explore the world she lives in, she has found a compass in Dante who will help her chart her path forward.
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Also I know we all make jokes about how inconsistent the art is when it comes to her chest but like... Come on look at the difference here.... I'm correct about this. But I mostly wanted to make this post to point out that her narrative arc is also trans and it goes so much deeper than just art inconsistencies.
Okay that's all I can think of now, thank you for reading, I hope you all also love her <3
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