#well i just spent the last few hours writing that and trying to remember which worldbuilding for both worlds i wanna break or keep
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Azem Headcanons
[Author’s note: I always go back and forth on the Azem lore in relation to Zero and Mikhail because I do not make their story standard approach to MSQ but had eventually come to the decision that Mikhail is NOT Azem due to his dragon origins and dragons in ffxiv originate from another world separate from the one that was sundered and are basically like aliens. He does however gain the seat of Azem, inheriting the star stone Emet-selch had made in secret and could be said to have taken up their will, narrative wise. *Zero is one of the incarnations of the last person who inherited the seat of Azem but had decided not to join her mentor for she did not see this as the “Answer”.]
Concept
Zero not joining or being involved at all in the crisis happening in the Convocation of Fourteenth is because I’m personally interested in the first appearance of the Watchers making their first move on other worlds and assimilating it into their network of information.
The first move they make is releasing a flower that will consume anything and take the data it has accumulated and either BECOME or send a proxy out that can shapeshift into the thing that it killed.
Zero as Azem is sent off to investigate this rumor of livestock and people going missing. A few interviewees even claimed to see some sort of amorphous monsters bringing offerings to a spherical white object made of unknown matter. (A/N:*chimera ant arc meets To your eternity)
This thing ends up getting the better of Zero and on the brink of the final days being amplified by the despairing telethy birds she is killed and consumed by the Flower and later takes on said form of Zero and finds it to be the strongest they’ve ever consumed.
Upon trying to shapeshift into the Zero’s form and data collected from her, Zero suddenly gains consciousness of her situation and in one last act of self sacrifice asserts her will over the Flower and attempts to kill herself and the flower with it. For this life form called the Flower copies everything that is consumed including its soul.
Even if the Flower is incapable of processing such characteristics of humanity like feelings and emotions it will still absorb the information and try to culminate the data to the best within its given parameters set by its Creators. In an act of survival it attempts to regenerate and revive itself but splits its power amongst five copies of the lifeform it absorbed called “Zero”.
The attempt at using creation magicks at its disposal ends horribly outside of its control as the telethy enacting the Final Days mutate the copies of Zero’s split soul and the Flower being that of a creation is susceptible to dynamis. All five copies of Zero, in a fit of fear and survival, flee from her attempt at rounding them up.
With nowhere to turn for help in a situation outside of her expertise, seeing first hand what the Final Days is ravaging across the land with a plague of creation magicks and a Flower that is designed for its ceaseless hunger for apocalypticism. Amidst the chaos reaching a boiling point when the Convocation announces their proposal of the construction of Zodiark. None of her colleagues believe her story of a Flower Concept devouring anything in its reach without revealing that she too has been compromised by said blight.
Zero finds an unlikely ally in a powerful dragon far traveled from its star named Micheal.
To be Continued etc
Accord is of course monitoring and cataloging all of this. As this singularity and branch needs to be further studied for the ramifications it could hold for the future.
#mikh writes lore#ffxiv headcanons#azem headcanons#drakenier ffxiv fusion#well i just spent the last few hours writing that and trying to remember which worldbuilding for both worlds i wanna break or keep#i still very much wanna like make the ascians into organization xiii but with ff antagonists cause i think that would be cool#i'll elaborate more later#sorry if my writing is a little all over the place i'm just trying to get the general idea down otherwise if i could just beam all of this#onto a google doc and make it a fic i absolutely would#writing is actually one of my not stronger skill sets i say this as like a stem student#utterly envious of those college students who could just write 10k fic or something like damn give me that kinda madness
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can i request something for carlos sainz x leclerc!reader on vacation?there’s such a soft spot in me for summer vacation carlos like in a beach setting or on a yacht. it can be soft or smutty it doesn’t matter i just love summery carlos. thank you!!!
𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐈 .ೃ࿐
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: while the leclercs maybe spending their summer vacation at home, you opted for a secret vacation in santorini with your secret boyfriend, carlos sainz. or in which you are secretly dating your brother's teammate.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), reader dob in 1999, dating in secret trope!, sainz & leclerc = google translated spanish & french ._., ig the reader has a shaved downstairs?, p in v, teasing, oral sex, lovey dovey smut?, poor humour, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, scandal and swift references, love confessions.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x younger leclerc!fem!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+
𝐀/𝐍: firm agree on the summery carlos! is it really my writing if i don't get santorini involved? anyways, hope this was up to your standards! sorry for the long wait! ♡︎
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆
Dating your brother's teammate was never on your bucket list. Hell, you tried to stay away from Formula 1. Well, as much as Leclerc could anyways.
People older than you weren't really your type. You opted for people near your age. That way there wasn't an awkward generation gap and there was no one that reminded you of your older brothers. Carlos was only five years older than you but the generational gap was most certainly there.
Men your age were... well, boys.
Men Carlos' age were men but also men.
You had seen Carlos at races before. And he was an attractive man, obviously. But that was that. You passed each other down the paddock, barely giving each other a glance. And not to mention the obvious, you were far too young for him at the time.
But then Ferrari's first car launch after signing Carlos had happened.
You had seen Carlos more in the few hours the event lasted than the past few years. You didn't know what it was. Whether you were unintentionally stalking him or vice versa. What you did know, however, he was definitely eyeing you.
By the time Charles had introduced you, Arthur, Lorenzo, and your mother, Carlos was trying to keep his interest at bay, pretending to be as family-friendly as possible.
Carlos ended up catching you as you came out of the bathroom, smoothly asking for your number. And as much as you wanted to give it to him, you weren't going to be easy. You were a Leclerc for crying out loud.
If Carlos wanted you, he would have to earn you.
And boy did he try.
You had heard from several people and the Internet that Carlos was a hardcore romantic. You never thought about it up until he started pulling out all the stops.
He was attentive as hell, remembering your favourite drinks, slipping you a new book to read as he talked to Charles, purposely linking his pinky with yours as discreetly as he could just so he could see you flush in front of him, sending you clothes for you to wear to his races to your apartment...
Carlos was menace.
But somewhere along the line, he became your menace.
You and Carlos were the epitome of the saying 'Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours'.
Keeping it secret... sure it was frustrating at times. The both of you had person after person trying to get with you because, well, you were a Leclerc and he was Carlos Sainz. Carlos had managed to draw a line by telling people he had a girlfriend but he didn't want to reveal her.
Yeah... it didn't settle well with the grid, in particular the three gossipers of the grid: Pierre, Lando, and your brother.
But after all the little bumps in the road, it was smooth sailing.
Most of the time you spent time together was alone, just the two of you. That way, there was no risk of being caught and you could revel in each other.
Of course, it wasn't that easy. Nothing was easy with you and Carlos, especially given that you couldn't keep your hands off of one another. Carlos a slight more than you because you had the decency and fear of embarrassment of getting caught by anyone. Carlos, on the other hand, was as indecent as they come. Hands always looking for an excuse to touch you, eyes travelling to find you first in any room, sending dirty texts when you sat across him... like you said, he was a menace.
To make things easier for yourself, for this summer break, you and Carlos had picked trusty Santorini as a romantic getaway, taking his dog Piñon as a welcomed third wheeler. Filled with so many tourists that you and Carlos would look like any regular couple there.
"Now this is a summer break," You breathed out, walking on to the yacht you had rented out for your stay in Greece. The air was clean and crisp, the sun was already beating down on you despite it being nine in the morning, and the translucent blue waters brought you a sense of familiarity that Monaco held.
"Don't you agree, Piñon?" You cooed to the soft ball of white curled up into your arms. A small bark of agreement came from the dog, tail wagging in happiness.
Carlos chuckled behind you, putting down your bags on the deck, under the shade. His thick arms enveloped your waist, bringing you closer to him. Nestling his chin into your shoulder, he said, "That's good, hermosa (beautiful). Now try saying it in Spanish."
You made a face at his teasing tone. Pulling yourself out of his grasp, you turned towards him. "Ahora son unas vacaciones de verano. ¿No estás de acuerdo, mi querido Carlos?" You recreated the same coaxing tone you had given Piñon to your lover, pinching his cheek with the energy of an overly endearing mother. Now this is a summer break. Don't you agree, my dear Carlos?
Carlos gave you a pointed look. You were teasing him. You knew he liked when you spoke Spanish because it was cute to see you fumble over the words but it also meant a lot to him that you were trying.
You rolled your eyes at his reaction and settled Piñon on the deck after making sure it wasn't too hot for those small paws of his. You watched him trot around the yacht, carefully examining his surrounding to test his boundaries.
Satisfied that Piñon was safe, you turned back to Carlos. "Brunch?"
"Brunch..." Carlos trailed off, hand reaching out to your face. The soft pad of his thumb graze your lips, gently pulling on your bottom lip to watch it bounce back. "...or brunch?" He asked, voice heavy with a clear need.
Your body thrived with an eagerness to respond to his touch. Goosebumps were the paint to the canvas of your skin, littering each part of you even though you were impossibly warm in the sun. You really wanted brunch. But your stomach wanted brunch. Instead, you simply nodded to him, agreeing with the answer he had never said. "You're right. Food is very important."
Carlos groaned at your response. "Hermosa," He sighed out, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you close yet again. "I want you," He murmured against your skin, nose brushing against your cheek and hot breath wandering down your neck.
Carlos could feel you smile at his words. "And you have me... for two whole weeks," You reminded him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.
Carlos curled his lip in annoyance at your reminder while he revelled in your touch. "I could have you for four," He also reminded you.
You sighed. You hadn't seen him in three weeks because life had it's mysterious ways of making the both of you busy. You wanted nothing more than a month with Carlos. But it was far too suspicious.
You had barely convinced your mother and your brothers that you were going to Santorini for a 'self-exploration' trip. Charles had immediately offered to turn it into a family trip but you managed to settle him down by saying you would spend the last two weeks with them. Alexandra had been a sweetheart in the matter as well. She was the only one, as well as Kika and Lily, that had known about you and Carlos, claiming they sensed it from 'a mile away'.
What they truly meant was that Carlos wouldn't stop eye-fucking you from a far.
"It's okay," You mumbled woefully, patting his chest softly, "I'll be with you in spirit while you reign Madrid."
Carlos held in his eye roll at your theatrics, you had a flair for them. "I wish you would reign Madrid with me instead. I want you to meet the family, let me finally teach you golf, go to the holiday house with me, hmm?" He implored, chocolate brown flickering to search yours.
The pain behind your eyes made him feel frustrated. He knew how much you wanted to do that because you wanted the same thing with your family. "How 'bout I call Charles, hmm? I'm sure he'll understand."
The thought of Charles finding out from anyone but you made you shudder. Would he understand? What was so understandable about hiding the fact you were dating his teammate for over a year, especially over a call?
Arthur, amongst Charles and Lorenzo, would probably be the most hurt. You and him told each other everything. You guys were the closest in age, similar to how Lorenzo and Charles were. Hell, you even helped him confess and get with Carla. And he was waiting to do the same for you, with some he trusted and knew.
And Lorenzo? It was really for the best if he didn't know from Carlos. He had initially told you not to get too close to any of the drivers because he was worried for you and well, the reputation of F1 drivers and dating wasn't too great. But you were quite sure that anything you and Carlos did had crossed the line of 'too close'. '
"Carlos, mi amor, I love you, but I think the idea of brunch, not brunch, is more understanding."
━━━━━━━━━━━
After your brunch, you had spent some time reading to Carlos inside the yacht, not wanting to get into the water just after you had eaten nor wanting to go out when the sunshine was at it's peak.
It was serene.
The windows were open, letting a cool breeze come and help reduce the heat and you were both sprawled on the soft mattresses that served as sofas on the floor of the yacht. The calmness and peace you had desired amongst the chaos life and F1 brought.
You were half sure that Carlos was close to falling asleep in your lap, but not by your retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, after Carlos refused to see Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen for the sixth time this year, but by the way your combed your hand through his hair as you read. (Although you were still going to be persistent because the concept of seeing those two on screen in Santorini out of all places was a need, not a want).
"Carlos, mon beau (my handsome), you're going to fall asleep. Let's go swimming," You told him, placing your bookmark in between the pages and closing the book.
Carlos groaned, looking up at you. He held your hand close to his chest. "No, it's way too hot. Don't you see the water? It looks like lava."
You narrowed your eyes. "That precisely why we should go swimming. We can't just sit here and mope around. We're in Santorini... we need to stand up and move around."
Carlos lifted his head from your lap, sitting straight so he faced you. You let out a quick yelp when he pulled you forward, placing you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "I can think about fifty ways to stand up and move around... in fifty different positions."
You could feel your thighs involuntarily clench around him. You know he felt it to. You gasped at his words and shook your head. "You are a heathen, Carlos Sainz. A barbarian... a hooligan, a sexually-driven simpleton must I continue?"
"Well, I recall you loving this heathen, infidel, barbarian, and hooligan," Carlos shrugged, warm hands inching up the white sundress you had worn this morning. The action sent a shudder down your spine.
"Carlos," You mumbled, already falling into a state where you were losing the words to speak your thoughts as Carlos kneaded the flesh of your thighs with his rough hands.
"Yes?" Those puppy brown eyes flickered to your eyes while he brought his mouth to your thighs, opting to graze your heated skin with the teeth. "Tell me what you want, hermosa. And I'll give it to you."
You faltered at his words. His gaze was heavy with a dark blaze that sent your stomach churning. You allowed yourself to fully straddle Carlos' lap, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you felt Carlos' clothed bulge press into your core.
Carlos struggled to prevent a strained hiss escape his gritted teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening, your flesh escaping the confines of his hands. Fuck, were your thighs so enticing to Carlos. He wanted to bite them and bruise them so even weeks later, they were covered in the reminiscents of him.
"What do you want, baby? Please tell me," Carlos begged, eyes desperately searching your own for any sign or indication of what you wanted.
You felt your core clench at the plea falling from Carlos' plump lips. You hadn't even really done anything but he was ready to serve you. Everything was foggy. You couldn't think straight. "I want... I want you, Carlos. Fuck, anything, everything... I–make love to me. Show me how much you love me."
His roaming hands came to a halt. "Mierda (shit)," Carlos cursed, bringing his tongue to swipe his bottom lip.
He could do that. He would love you so much that the entirety of Santorini would know and no one would even question your relationship with him.
Carlos brought his hands to your back, feeling the numerous strings of your dress against the pads of his fingers. One hand worked to undo the very knots he had done this morning while the other creeped up the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his.
He brought his lips to yours, pressing them with an indescribable urgency. Your hands shot out to his chest, fisting the soft material of the polo you had chosen for him into a small bundle.
You gasped into the kiss, feeling a sudden breeze of cold air as the strings of your dress fell flat against your skin. Carlos' hands wandered down the surface of your back, coming to a stop at your waist.
The urge to get even closer to you coursed through Carlos' veins, pulling you flush against him. A moan fell from his swollen lips as you parted to fill the craving of some oxygen. Your pussy was pressed tight against his cock and your breasts were soft, pushed against his chest.
Carlos ventured to move his lips down the side of your jaw, edging towards your barren neck, aching to decorate you with aging and unique shades of purple and blue.
You let out a series of sinful whimpers upon the feeling of your skin being sucked at, feeding directly into his constrained cock. "Carlos..." You moaned out, eyes shut in pure pleasure, "They'll know. The–They'll ask q-questions."
"I know." You shivered as you feel him grin against your skin.
You watched him through your half-lidded eyes, moving up from your neck to look at you with his blistering gaze. With one simple movement, he took off his shirt, revealing his taut golden skin. Christ.
You sat still breathlessly on his lap as Carlos peeled off your dress, pulling your arms through the white material. The cool breeze trickled over your bare breasts, nipples hardening almost instantly.
Carlos let a warm hand rest over your rib, lifting you gently to remove your dress fully. He sighed, laying you down on the mattress. The tips of his fingers travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, the hairs of your body standing straight at his touch.
"You know what it is a tragedy, hermosa?" Carlos queried, watching you quiver underneath him, chest heavily rising up and down.
He smiled at your asking through your eyes because the words just couldn't come out of your throat. "You will never see yourself the way I see you. Eres una sirena... obra de Dios. If He didn't put you on this Earth that would've been his biggest sin." You are a siren… God's work.
If your throat wasn't tied up before, it surely was now. You looked at him with a soft gaze, watching him come near you to press his lips on your own. You whimpered, feeling his hands travel towards your breasts, fondling your mounds with a cautious roughness that sent your stomach tingling.
You frowned at the loss of his lips but the complaint subsided upon the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple. He paid attention to every flick and every crevice, keeping his deep eyes trained on you. He smiled at your hiss as he purposely grazed his teeth against your nipple.
Carlos removed his lips from your nipple, moving his head back to hover over your pussy. Still keeping his eyes on you, you watched in silence as the hot saliva fell from his lips, bubbly strings landing directly onto your glistening folds. Fucking hell.
"Eyes on me, baby," He told you, looking at your clenched eyes.
Your eyes shot open as Carlos took one long stripe of your folds, your hips bucking at the sudden sensation. Lingering a second too long on your clit, his tongue continued to work up towards your stomach and the valley of your breasts, returning his attention to your other nipple.
Your mouth fell open, feeling his fingers rub your wet folds, spreading his saliva around your pussy. While his tongue worked your nipple, he thrusted a thick finger into your walls. With your eyes rolling back, you attempted to fist the thick material of the mattress but to no avail.
"Fuckk, Carlos," You whimpered, writhing at his touch.
"Finally found your words, hmm?" Carlos teased, adding another finger into his torturous slow pace. His eyes were glued to watching your hips out of his periphery, snapping up to try and ride his fingers. As laboured breaths fell from your lips, he pushed his digits even further, aiming to reach a specific spot.
Smoothly, Carlos grabbed a nearby pillow, putting it under your lower back to bring you some comfort and a whole new level of pleasure. He stared at your face intently: your mouth had fallen wide open with a ghost whisper of his name flowing into the air, sweat glistened over your flushed face, pooling near the edges of your hair and neck, and your lips were swollen with the prettiest shade of red he had ever seen.
"Carlos," You managed to get out with your brain practically turning into jelly. "Carlos, please, I don't want to cum like this. I need your cock, please."
Carlos' cock throbbed at your pleas. "Your wish is my command, princesa."
Hearing your whines upon the loss of his fingers, Carlos took off his blue shorts faster than he had ever done in his life.
Even though you had been with Carlos sexually for a while, your cheeks still flamed when you saw his cock. Not out of embarrassment or unadulterated innocence. No. It was outright heat that was getting to you.
Every time you saw his cock, it was a violent shade of red, throbbing and aching, leaving Carlos begging to be touched by you.
You watched as Carlos leaned forward, hovering over you. It was beyond you how exactly pretty Carlos was. You hadn't realised until he started courting you. You had no idea how you were supposed to live without seeing his thicket of brown locks, his freckles that could only be depicted if you were close to him otherwise they blended with his prickly stubble, the smug smile he constantly wore to hide himself, and especially his big brown eyes that made you bend to his command.
"Carlos?" You softly called out.
Carlos' ears perked up at your gentle tone. He smiled down at you with raised brows. His hands continued to travel your body, retracing every curve and fold as he had committed to his memory. "Sí, mi hermosa?"
You ran a hand through his hair before caressing his cheek. God, he was your beautiful boy. "Je t'aime plus que tu ne peux l'imaginer." I love you more than you can imagine.
You knew he didn't speak French despite spending this many years with Charles but it often comes from you naturally when you were too caught up in your feelings.
"Je ne pense pas que ce soit le cas. You don't know how my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. Every race, I hope you're there waiting for me because you're pretending to wait for Charles. Hermosa, I exist for you. No one else." I don't think you do.
Your eyes widened, fresh tears lining your waterline. "You understood–you learned French?" You whispered, voice barely audible.
Carlos grinned. "I'm quite sure I said a lot of after that but yes, I did learn French for you... surprise!"
You suppressed the urge to push him off of you and gave him a long kiss. Pulling back, you laughed gently. "You're an idiot... making me cry during sex. And not even in the good way!" You feigned your complaint.
"Well, we still have tonight and thirteen more days. Today I'm just showing how much I love you," He whispered above your lips, hips lining up with yours.
You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Carlos' cock brush past your folds. You both moaned in unison as he pushed his cock into your pussy. Your walls wrapped around his cock tightly, gripping him like a vice.
Carlos cursed several profanities under his breath, head lolling back while pleasure coursed through his body. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. His cock ached at the high-pitched mewl that fell from your swollen lips.
His hands fell to your hips, holding you tightly, slowly shifting you up and down his length, burying his cock in you.
You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest on Carlos'. You can feel him staring at you, taking all of you in: every hue of your flushed state, your eyelashes riddled with tears and sweat, the heavenly and sinful sounds from your lips, and your greased hair.
"You are breathtaking," Carlos whispered against you.
You smiled, opening your eyes to meet his and rolling your hips slowly in response. "You make me feel so good," You praised.
A rough moan was elicited from Carlos, throat tight and choked up from your words and actions. He could barely function seeing your bare pussy take his cock so well, let alone how the tip of his cock throbbed when he lifted you up. His own eyes were beginning to shut as he revelled in the ecstasy you brought hip.
Fuck, you were so wet. You looked down at your thighs, seeing the obscene sheen of your arousal coat spread to Carlos' thighs. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hips snapping to create a rhythm.
"Carlos, I, fuck," You blabbered in complete disarray. You were beginning to seem the edges of a familiar white light.
Although Carlos appreciated the sign, he could tell by the way you were clenched so tightly around his cock, getting his cock to pulsate every few seconds, that you were going to come.
He moved his hands between your legs, watching you sink over his cock one more time before he obstructed the view by using his thumb to rub your clit in circles.
"Mierda," Carlos cussed, feeling you grip his cock even further if it was possible. "Cum for me, mi amor."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You repeated the expletive as if it were a mantra, hips bucking as white clouded your vision. You let out a loud moan, body shaking as waves of your climax hit you one after the other.
Not a second later, Carlos was cumming too. His hips rutted against yours in almost an unrecognisable desperation, the peak of his ecstasy right within his grasp. His cock pulsed while his hips came to a falter, stuttering as ropes of his white cum spilled into you, warming your walls.
"F-Fuck," Carlos groaned, feeling your pussy clamp around him, trying to take every last drop of his cum.
You feel Carlos slump forward into you, exhausted. Gently, you lifted yourself off of his cock, wincing at your sensitivity. You fell straight onto the mattress, panting heavily.
"Shit!" You yelped as Carlos pushed some of his leaking come back into and circle your clit. You shook at the mini aftermath of your orgasm before calming back down.
"Satisfied?" You nudged Carlos playfully, knowing damn well Carlos liked to go the extra mile when it came to you.
"Very," Carlos commented, reaching his arms out to bring you closer to him.
You sighed, resting your head on his chest. The exhaustion was very quickly seeping into the both of you. Carlos' heartbeat was beginning to work as a lullaby and Carlos had found your warmth far more comforting than any mattress or duvet.
"Hermosa," He called, making you hum for you had no energy to speak. "We need to tell them."
You found yourself trying to open your eyes. When had they closed? You turned to face him, chin resting on his heated torso. You pressed a brief kiss and said, "I know. Let's tell them in a few days. So they have at least a week to yell at me."
Carlos frowned at your words. "I'll be right there with you. You know that right? I'm not letting you do this alone."
You smiled after letting out a small yawn. "I know, I know. I'm grateful. Thank you, mi amor."
Carlos returned the gesture, kissing your forehead gently. He rubbed your shoulders, feeling the dark abyss of slumber slowly call to him. "Anything for you, hermosa."
© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑
#mickyschumacher#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 smut#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz
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delayed proposal
MASTERLIST
Summary: in which Harry’s got a few secrets up his sleeve and Y/N just wants to know if he’s going to propose
Author’s Note: this is the blurb i was talking about with bandmates!harry x y/n. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3
Word Count: 1.1k
•••
“Are you going to propose soon?” Was the last question Harry expected to be uttered out of Y/N’s bright pink lips.
It was just another Sunday night, the couple trying to enjoy those last fleeting moments of weekend relaxation before Monday arrived with the usual burden and obligations of being working adults.
In little less than 12 hours, Y/N would be back to her 9-5 job being an assistant to a high-class executive of a finance company. Her boss had too much authority for being so irresponsible and more money than anyone would need in a lifetime. What a luxury it must be to have your dad pass down a company you didn’t know how to run down to you.
Her boss wasn’t a horrible person, he was quite respectful and kind when asking her to do tasks, he was just a very exploitative executive. He had learned from his father to be unbending and demanding.
Y/N’s work paid a good wage, enough for her to pay her bills and still have a bit left. She wasn’t one to buy luxuries, though, preferring to save money up so she could one day quit her 9-5. And then dedicate herself to the things she did every day after work: picked up her red electric guitar, adorned a black skirt that bordered on too short, and perform for (currently small) crowds of people who cheered her band on as they played.
There wasn’t anything Y/N loved quite as much as the rush of being on stage, the bass making the stage shake with each loud thrum, sticks clashing with plates of a drum and the velvet voice of an angel, Harry singing through the microphone and his eyes on her and her fingers moving over the fret of the guitar.
They played small clubs and rundown bars, getting payed a poor wage for the extrenous effort used to get four adults with full time jobs to align their schedules in order to rehearse. Sometimes all they got were free drinks, but they took what they could get and did it for the love of it.
That was how they got here, on Harry’s couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her head on his chest. They were watching Bluey, the way they did most nights they spent together. He would always roll his eyes when Y/N suggested it, pretending to hate it, but she knew it was his favorite show, and he always cried at the emotional episodes.
Their instruments lay forgotten on the table, his blue guitar next to her red one, as they’d spent most of the afternoon drinking beer and writing a new song.
It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind, and she wasn’t quite sure why she chose that moment to blurt it out, but she did. “Are you going to propose soon?”
Harry’s gaze turned to her, eyebrows raised in light surprise, a small breath exhaled between his lips in a faint chuckle. “What?”
It was too late to take it back, so Y/N sat up and told him, “You’ve always talked about wanting to settle down and get married.” His features remained in small confusion. “We’ve been together for a while. Are you going to marry me?”
“Well, of course I’m going to marry you,” Harry said, like it were some scientific fact that everyone knew and was unchangeable. “You’re my forever, baby. I’ve written about a hundred songs about it.” His lips turned up in a smile. That smile he wore every time he told her he loved her, with a cocky and smug edge as if he were teasing her, laced with affection.
“I don’t mean we have to get married this instant, but I just, I guess we’ve never talked about if we were getting engaged or when and I-“
“Baby,” Harry cut off her nervous rambling, chuckling. He kissed her, soft lips with cracked edges from the cold and dry weather. “I already know what ring I’m going to buy. I’m just saving up for it.”
Y/N’s mind blanked for a moment. “You’re already thinking about rings?” Her lips parted in surprise.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, silly girl. You’re not the only one thinking about marriage.” He smiled at her, reassuring her that he was just teasing. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”
“Oh,” Y/N said, still in shock. Here she was, getting all nervous and insecure about marriage and he had already been planning to propose. Her question now seemed a bit foolish. She looked up at him and said, “You know I don’t need some needlessly expensive ring, right? You could buy it on Aliexpress and I couldn’t care less.”
Harry looked at her with slight amusement. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small nod. “It’s stupid to spend money on a ring when it doesn’t make much of a difference.”
Harry sighed. “Baby, it’s not about the ring being expensive. It’s about the ring being a symbol for my devotion to you. And I want my devotion to be apparent in the beauty of it.” He tapped the finger on her left hand where the ring would lay. “No, I don’t have to spend money on an expensive ring. That’s why I’m not just getting a huge diamond. I’m getting something you’ll love.”
“But it’s expensive and it’s a waste of money on a simple ring-“
“Is it just a ring? Or is it a symbol of matrimony, of us being together forever?” Harry said gently, correcting her statement. “Not to mention you’re going to be wearing that ring every day ‘till you die.”
Y/N made a sound of contradiction. “Unless we get a divorce.”
Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments. He deadpanned, “Not funny.”
“Kinda funny,” Y/N said with a small smile.
She waited for Harry’s stern gaze to soften with adoration the way it always did. It only took a few moments for his composure to crumble and he leaned in close to her. His nose grazed against hers as he muttered quietly, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
The way he said it sounded like a declaration of love. Everything he said to her did. Because his love could never be called in to doubt. It shone through every word he uttered, every song he wrote, every thing he did.
His lips locked onto hers once again, the tension in his muscles melting away as if all he needed to feel complete was to be pressed against her. To have every inch of skin surrounding her, the taste of beer still on her tongue, and the scent of spring enveloping his senses.
“I’m going to marry you,” Harry uttered, an oath murmured against her lips before placing a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close once again.
#harrystyles#fanfic#fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles writing#rockstar!harry x y/n#rockstar!y/n#rockstar!harry#bandmates!harryxyn#bandmates!harry x yn#bandmates#female oc#harry styles x female reader#oc#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#blurb#harry edward styles#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry fic#harry#harry styles x femoc#harry styles x yn#harry styles x fem!reader
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Hi, could i request Alastor x reader where one of them does something nice/gives something to the other not realizing that in their culture it's equivalent of courting/proposing? And since the other is in love with them, they don't mention the connotations and it takes someone else to point it out for them to realize? :)
Going to be honest, I wasn't sure how to write this one, since I'm white and to my knowledge Alastor's a Creole man from 1930s, so I wasn't sure what from either of those cultures could be mistaken for a proposal. After doing some research I'm going to tweak this ask a bit, simply because I am not entirely comfortable representing other cultures that I am not a part of and only have a few hours worth of google research knowledge of. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted. If you or anyone has more specific traditions to use as examples, I'd be happy to try and expand on the idea.
(Or reinterpret this as like, flower language, gift giving symbolism by pagan standards, or crow language. Which not gonna liez my ADHD ass really wants to write a crow sinner giving them weird random stuff they find that they think the others would like.)
Anyway, I'm going to do things you'd do for each other that make you both wanna get married. Hope that's ok!
Alastor
It's not so much a single thing you do, but more like there is a single moment where he realizes he wants to marry you. And to be clear, his idea of marriage is going to be based off of what he grew up with and his own personal level of comfort with romance and intimacy (remember folks, aromantics have a spectrum as well and can get married and have perfectly happy, functional, healthy relationships and marriages).
It's probably not even a big grand gesture or anything. It's more likely something domestic and really sweet. Like it's post the finale fight with Adam, and he already knows he's getting attached because he let you help him get patched up. He lets you in his room, his space, and being touched by you is as easy and comfortable as it is with Rosie and Niffty, who have pretty much a free pass whenever.
Yet you're still always so respectful of his boundaries, of giving him subtle ways to avoid or redirect your touch if he's not feeling up to it. You never push, chosing to take what levels of affection he's willing to express but always letting him know you love him, and this last small thing is the thing that makes it click in his brain.
You bring him his coat, newly patched, cleaned of any trace of blood. The stitching is a little sloppy, crooked, and the fabric isn't lined up as well as it used to be, but you tried. He can see the effort and knows you spent hours holed up in your room after patching him up.
"I know it's not perfect, but it'll hold until you feel well enough to visit your tailor again." You say timidly, as if you expected rejection or critique. And while criticism wouldn't be unwarranted, he's just too emotional to say anything. His smile is gentle, a little wobbly, and he reaches out and brushes the coat aside to grab hold of you and pull you into a hug.
You're just so sweet and considerate, you understand him. He's not going to change, he doesn't want redemption, he thrives off the bloodshed and chaos of hell, but at the same time he's still just a man. And he wants you to be by his side for eternity, if he you want that too. He's never thought of marriage before but now...now he can't stop. He wants to have that with you. Domestic life, something to come home to.
He won't say anything right away, he wants his proposal to be perfect. He's going to have Rosie help him plan this every step of the way, but regardless, one day, you will be his partner.
As for what your moment with Alastor is, I think it entirely depends on what you value most in a partner. However, a general consensus I've seen in most of the fanfics and tumblr posts is the idea of Alastor showing us a softer side.
Not just showing us that he's more than a serial killer and cannibal with his own sense of morality. More than just feeling comfortable enough to let us initiate touch, hut genuinely letting us see past the Radio Demon persona.
Maybe it's by cooking for us and talking about how he learned the recipe from his Mama, which leads into him slowly opening up about her, how much he adored her. What she meant to him.
Maybe it's him and you at the bar in the hotel or in his room, sipping drinks, his jacket off, sleeves rolles up. Letting himself be casual and in a compromised state around you. Maybe he'll even take your hand and spin you across the dance floor like he used to with Mimzy. He doesn't even care if you're not that good, he can teach you, practice makes perfect, he just has fun with you.
Maybe it's a moment where he let's you touch him. Or seeks you out for help because he knows you won't say anything. Or if he humors you and flirts back when you tease him. Or let's say he has a tail and he doesn't snap your head off for accidentally touching it as you go by. Or he agrees to watch a movie with you or listen to a podcast despite how he feels about technology.
Maybe it's just a quiet night, sitting next to each other, each reading a book, his radio playing softly for background noise, and you look up to him to ask a question or say something and he's already watching you, a small, adoring smile on his face.
Take your pick of which one is the moment where your heart stops, your breath catches, and you realize that you wanna marry this man.
And then your delulu ass wakes up, lol.
Decide for yourself if you'd go through with a proposal or if you just accept how things are.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader#sorry this isn't what you asked for#it's the best I could do
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THE SONG OF OUR LOVE | (h. lewis)
summary: a normal day in the Wroetoshaw household
wordcount: 2.1k words
pairing: harrylewis x singer!reader
warnings: none
notes: first imagine! please be nice and comment your thoughts! The song Y/N is writing is : all 4 nothing by lauv :)
On this surprisingly warm Tuesday morning, you woke up at around 9:00 am. Despite having an early studio session, which didn’t start before 11:00 am, you decided to get up early.
Your boyfriend of eight years is still sound asleep on your shared bed.
The cutest little snores came out of his slightly opened mouth.
You looked into the mirror you had put up on the wall, seeing your T-shirt, well, Harry’s T-shirt, an old Sidemen merch you pulled out of the other side of the closet a few days ago. And an old pair of shorts you bought from your favorite shop when you first moved to London.
On your tiptoes, you sneak out of your bedroom trying not to wake up your favorite person.
You had this song idea stuck in your head and you needed to write it down or record it somehow. Thinking of the recording app you had installed on your phone, you went to your home studio, which the boys of your crew had set up for you.
You opened the door and to the left, all of your guitars were hanging on the wall. Yet your favorite guitar was standing next to the fluffy white couch you picked out for this room. Wanting to have a comfy and nice looking space for when you were creative.
The couch was mostly used by your boyfriend Harry when he was lounging on it while listening to your recording or mostly writing melodies and lyrics.
Across from the couch you had your little setup. A table where you placed your monitor, attached to the table is a microphone which you could move around to any position you‘d like, some noise-canceling headphones were placed on top of the microphone, ready to be picked up. And last but not least, the matching white fluffy chair, where you spend hours and hours trying to write the perfect song.
When you woke up, at around 1:00 am, when Harry went to bed after a little work dinner with Callux, Calfreezy, Chip, and Will (which turned into a ’who can down the most Sambuca shots in 10 seconds‘ challenge), you had this song stuck in your head. You just needed to write it down somehow, too scared that you wouldn’t remember it when you went to the actual studio.
You sat down on your couch and picked up the guitar next to you. Getting your phone out, you opened the recording app and pressed play.
You started to play the guitar quietly trying to play the melody you had stuck in your head.
After finding the right tune you started to hum quietly.
”I‘m so in love, I‘m so in love
I don’t ever wanna stop this ride that we’re on
I don’t ever wanna say goodbye
Then all of these nights they would be just for nothing“
Thinking of Harry, you wrote another love song. This boy is stuck in your head and you can’t seem to get him out of there, not that you wanted to.
The thought of saying goodbye to him made your heart clench. After being in a relationship for a bit longer than eight years and knowing each other since primary school, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.
He was your soulmate, and you were his.
You’ve spent so many nights talking, laughing and just enjoying each other’s presence while both of you had a busy day ahead, often oversleeping in the morning and being late to important meetings, these nights couldn’t be for nothing.
”Third of October
We were never sober
First few times that we hung out
But we fell in love somehow“
Third of October, the day that Harry asked you to be his. It was back in Guernsey. You guys went for a walk and that’s where he asked you.
The first time you hung out with him as in ‘I like him more than a friend‘ was at parties. With him being 19 and you 18, you were allowed to legally drink alcohol and both of you did that. A lot. You don’t remember much, but some of your friends took pictures of you that first night you went out together. It was in July 2015 and you came to London for a visit, Harry insisting to go for a ‘few pints‘. The few pints turned into a few shots and before you realized both of you were peppered.
The picture shows you on a bench near a park as Harry clung to you while you were trying to hold your puke in.
Not one of your greatest moments but definitely a key one for your relationship.
After that you started to visit Harry more often in London, always going out to clubs but you guys also had your quiet moments.
Cuddling with a raging hangover after a wild night out. Or playing Mario Kart when you both couldn’t sleep, getting too angry at the other for throwing blue or red shells.
In October he came to Guernsey and that’s where it happened.
”First time that I met you
I didn't have a damn clue
That I love everything about you
Now I can't think of life without you“
The first time you met him was the first day of primary school. You instantly clicked and hit it off perfectly. With playdates, sleepovers, and exploring the island together.
It was clear from the beginning to both of your parents that you would end up together.
You never thought of Harry that way until you turned 16. Suddenly your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, you felt nervous to talk to him and whenever you guys touched, you thought a lightning struck through your body.
Thinking back to that time, brought a smile to your lips, not able to imagine a life without him anymore.
”Eh, did you know that you're my whole heart?
Eh, did you know that I never stop? No
Giving you everything I got 'cause I'm so
I'm so in love, I'm so in love“
You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have Harry by your side. At this point, if he would leave, you would follow him, because he‘s yours and you’re his.
”and then just repeating the beginning and maybe another verse not sure about that yet“
You told basically yourself so you wouldn’t forget what you wanted to do with the rest of the song.
Just as you were about to press the stop recording button, the door to your studio opened and a very sleepy Harry came through it.
”what are you doing? I woke up and you weren’t by my side anymore“
You let out a laugh, ”I had this song idea stuck in my head since you came home. I needed to record it somehow.“
You put the guitar back onto its stand making sure the app was still recording, as you loved putting little extras of talking at the beginnings or endings of songs.
”Oh really? Can I listen to it?“ Harry came closer to you. You stood up and gave him a hug.
”I wanna record a demo in the studio later and then I can show you,“ Harry not being happy with this answer looked at you with a pout on his lips.
You giggled and kissed his lips, which just looked absolutely delicious this morning, with his beard being a bit longer than usual.
Harry being Harry, tried to deepen the kiss.
”No Harry come on, I have to go to the studio soon and you have meetings and a video shoot later, we don’t have time.“
”I only need five minutes, Y/N please.“
You shake your head and looked at him with your stern look.
Harry let out a sigh.
”Get a girlfriend, they said, it’s going to be fun, they said,“ he looked at you playful.
You slapped his chest, and now it was your turn to pout.
”Harry I‘d love to, but we really have no time. Later, alright? I wanted to ask you something anyway,“ you loosened your arms from the embrace you still shared. ”I wanted to go to Talia later, to talk about recording a song together, do you wanna come? Talia said Simon is going to be there too.“
”Yeah sure,“ he nodded while a grin started to form on his face, ”but if you want to see Mushu, you can just say so, you know. Don’t have to pretend that you want to record with Talia.“
You looked at him offended. You loved Mushu, ever since T and Simon got him, you‘ve been nagging Harry to get a dog. He‘s still refusing, constantly reminding you what happened to Herb. Your argument, that you both were practically kids and weren’t even able to take care of yourself when you got little Herb, does not convince Harry in any way.
”I love my Talia and we‘ve talking about recording music together for ages now. Even thought about making a whole album and just call it ’the sidewomen‘ to get more money, you know using your name and stuff,“ you grinned at him. ”But yeah, Mushu is also a reason I wanna go there,“ now changing into your baby voice, ”I mean have you seen that sweet fluffy face? He’s a furball, how can you not love him?“ A smile appears on your face just at the thought of Mushu and his incredibly soft fur.
”You know, sometimes I‘m scared you will leave me for a dog,“ Harry voiced his concern.
”Maybe you should start barking before I actually do.“
”I love you, Y/N, I really do.“
Your heart forms into a puddle and the pout appears on your lips again.
”I love you too, you’re the sweetest.“
You shared a kiss, as Harry’s hand connected with your right ass cheek, creating a loud slap sound.
”HARRY,“ you let out a shriek.
”I would love you even more if you would finally join me in the bedroom again.“
A grin appears on your face.
”Alright, but we really have no time. Let me just save the recording and then I‘ll come.“
With Harry leaving the room, you turned around and walked to your phone which still lays on the couch, where you left it.
You pressed the button, to stop recording. With a smile you saved it, making sure you could hear Harry and you talking, as you knew what to put at the end of the song you just recorded.
Taking your phone with you, you walked to the bedroom where Harry was waiting for you.
/////////////////////
When you and Harry both returned from the duties you had for the day, it was around 4:00 pm. You’ve been in the studio all day, recording the song you thought of this morning.
And Harry had a recording session with the boys for more Sidemen and Side+.
You’ve been excited all the time you’ve spent in the studio to finally show Harry the new song.
With Harry lounging on the couch, typing away on his phone, as you walked through the door of your living room, you couldn’t wait to be in his arms again.
You threw yourself on top of him. Harry immediately put his arms around you and squeezing you close. With your head propped up on his chest and the perfect view of his face, you couldn’t believe he was yours.
”Hiya“, you smiled at him, looking into his eyes.
”Hey there“, he smiled back at you, as he started to rub his hands up and down your back.
”I have the first demo version of the new song I started on today, you wanna listen to it?“
Before he answered, he moved your legs on both sides of his and sitting up straight, so you sat on his lap.
”What a question, of course Y/N. Show me right now.“
You giggled at his serious expression and pulled out your phone where the producer of the studio saved one of the versions.
”But have in mind, this is only a demo version, it’s not perfect and still a lot is missing.“
”As if I care, just show me.“
You selected the file of the final demo version and clicked play. Turning up the volume a bit more and your voice filled the room.
”I'm so in love…“
After the last chorus was played Harry wanted to start talking, but you only placed your index finger on his lips to shush him.
Harry looked at you confused with a tilted head, curious what’s gonna come after the song was finished and then he heard his own voice.
”You know, sometimes I‘m scared you will leave me for a dog.“
”Maybe you should start barking before I actually do.“
”I love you, Y/N, I really do.“
”I love you too, you’re the sweetest.“
#harry lewis#w2s#w2s x reader#w2s imagine#wroetoshaw#wroetoshaw imagine#harry wroetoshaw#singer!reader#sidemen#sidemen imagine#british youtubers#youtube
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𝖯𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖠𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗎 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)
𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒
a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old (and incomplete...) stories! the original
chapter contains: blackmail, kita x reader (side) series contains: college au, sexual themes, violence, kidnapping, tea
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
You hated Atsumu Miya since your freshman year of high school. You don’t think you can name one good thing about him. From his annoying voice to his stuck-up personality, you hated it all.
It wasn’t like he was your biggest fan either- you still remember his dramatic reaction when he found out you’d be going to the same college as him.
To quote him,
“Jesus Christ- you obsessed with me or something? Gotta follow me all the way to college too”
You can barely believe that you used to be his friend before high school, sharing some of your best childhood memories with the former nice boy.
Now, he’s just a scumbag who likes to go out of his way to make you miserable.
But yesterday, was the last straw…
Everyone knew you had a crush on Kita…well- everyone but Kita.
And Valentine's Day was the day you were gonna man up and finally make a move. You spent all night making chocolates for him…which turned out well- it was edible at least!
You knew that there was a big possibility that you’d mess up on your words if you verbally tried to confess to him, that’s why you settled for a love letter. You spent hours trying to write that one-page letter. There are at least twenty crumbled-up failed attempts of you trying to write a love letter. However, you settle for the best one, keeping it safely in your pocket.
Unfortunately, on the day of Valentine's Day- you had a class with Atsumu Miya. At least you also shared that class with a good friend of yours- Usagi.
You loved that girl but she was one of the girls who fanned over Atsumu. She probably gave one of the hundred Valentine’s chocolates that lay on Atsumu’s desk.
You walked over to your desk, trying to ignore Atsumu’s bragging about all the love letters he’s received. You settle the chocolates that you made for Kita on your desk, praying that they won’t melt before you give them to him.
“Holy shit what’s that?” Atsumu asked, voice annoying as always, propping his hands on your desk, and leaning over.
“None of your business” you responded, trying to move the chocolates away from him.
“She’s going confess to Kita!” Usagi spoke up, the chance to talk to Atsumu being too exciting for her to remain quiet.
“Usagi!” you yelled, turning your head to look at the embarrassed girl. “S-sorry it just came out” she mumbled.
Your attention fell back to Atsumu as you heard him laugh.
“Oh man- I feel so bad for Kita, he’s going to have the ugliest girl on campus confess to him? Talk about social embarrassment am I right?” Atsumu teased, wiping away a tear from laughter.
“Fuck off for once, Atsumu” you scoffed. Atsumu paused his laughter, eyes narrowing as he looked at your pockets. “What you got in there?” he questioned.
“Nothing that concerns you” you replied, shoving your hands into your pockets, probably crumbling the love letter.
“Well good luck on your little confession, Y/n. You’re gonna need it” Atsumu commented, a sinister smile on his lips as he walked away.
God- what was he planning?
---
During lunch, you were walking to your usual table, holding your tray of food in your hand. Just in a few hours, you’ll be confessing to Kita and god you’re nervous. You keep repeating the same phrase in your head,
The worst thing that can happen is that he says no.
The worst thing that can happen is that he says no.
The worst thing that can happen is that he sa-
Suddenly, you felt a strong force bump into you, almost everything that was peacefully lying on your tray spilling onto your shirt, hissing in the uncomfortable feeling of your drink drenching your shirt. You looked up to see that Atsumu was the one responsible for the mess.
“Asshole, watch where you’re going” you huffed, trying to wipe away the food on your shirt.
“Wow, I am just so sorry, Y/n” Atsumu commented, giving you a passive-aggressive smile as he tried to help you clean off your shirt.
“God- I hate you” you replied, slapping his hand away as you stormed away.
Thank god, your dorm wasn’t too far away- however, you did miss your next class because of your sudden need to change your shirt and shower.
----
The clock struck three- it was finally volleyball practice..AKA the time that you’d be confessing your feelings. You stood in front of the gymnasium, chocolates in one hand, the other reaching into your pocket for the letter
Wh-where is it?
You panicked feeling your empty pocket. Then you heard Atsumu’s voice in the gymnasium, causing you to slowly open the door, and take a peak.
“Kita, I’m not sure where to start with this letter. There are just so many things I feel for you. Every time I learn more about you- you just manage to make me fall deeper for you. I just get so nervous when I’m around you but excited at the same time. Is this what love is? And I really hope somewhere in your heart you-
Jesus Christ! this is the comedic goal” Atsumu burst into laughter, holding a letter in his hand that he seemed to be reciting. You felt your heart stop, your blood going cold as you listened to all the laughter in the gym.
Everyone was laughing at you stupid- stupid letter, well...everyone but Kita.
“Who wrote the letter?” you heard Suna asked Atsumu.
Atsumu looked around the gym, finally making eye contact with you through the gap between the door,
“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that, it’s ain't anyone important” Atsumu responded, a smile across his face as he crumbled the paper before throwing it into a trash can.
----
You ran- you ran all the way back to your dorm room, the tears in your eyes making it hard to see as you crashed on your bed, cursing out Atsumu through the pillow shoved in your face.
The chocolates you made for Kita were crushed and thrown out in your trash can.
It wasn’t long til your sadness morphed into fiery unstoppable rage.
You needed revenge- so you came up with the perfect plan.
Unlike most students on campus, Atsumu and Osamu lived in a house nearby- god they were lucky to have rich parents.
You showed up in front of their house night- it was so late at night that the whole neighborhood was silent. In your hands was a crowbar-
You thought to yourself, holy fuck this is crazy. But you were so fucking exhausted from all the harassment Atsumu has given to you for years. You had to do this. So you sneaked into their garage, prying it open with a crowbar.
You knew there was only one thing that Atsumu loved almost as much as he loved himself.
That damn stupid orange car he got for his birthday.
You remember the countless times when he would drive that expensive car around your house his deafening trashy music blasting from his car. The painful memories of the gas from his car would blow into your face and give you a nasty cough.
You shoved your hands into your pockets, taking out your silver key to your dorm room.
You hovered your key in front of the door of his car, hands shaking.
“Fuck it” you mumbled, dragging your key across the orange vehicle, leaving a white line on the paint.
It made your anger and sadness disappear…for a second.
You were painting his car with the scratches done by your trustworthy key for at least ten minutes, getting lost in high of your revenge.
The sound of footsteps descending downstairs interrupted your high, causing you to dash out of the garage, slamming the door behind you, hiding behind a tree as you heard
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY BABY"
Atsumu’s response causes you to laugh back home. Who cares about forgiveness? Revenge is truly the best feeling in the world.
---
You were discussing yesterday’s event with Usagi- you told her almost everything besides… your very illegal form of revenge.
“My beloved, Atsumu did what?” she cried in disbelief. “You mean that monster, Atsumu?” you corrected her.
“I’m sorry that happened, are you okay?” she asked. “Oh, I am “ you replied, smiling while thinking of the event from last night.
“Y/n.”
You turned your head, expecting Atsumu who came to annoy you…instead, it was Kita. “I’m sorry if you’re busy but may I talk to you for a moment?” Kita politely asked. You glanced back at an eager Usagi who was waving you off to shut up and go with him.
“Y-yeah, sure” you replied to Kita.
Kita held your hand as he led you to a more secluded part of campus, unaware that you were screaming in your head at the gesture.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” you asked, praying to god he didn’t find out it was you to write that embarrassing letter.
“Well, I didn’t see you yesterday. So I didn’t have the opportunity to give you this” Kita responded, opening his bookbag, gently taking out a piece of chocolate wrapped in a pink transparent bag.
I-is this what you think it is? Is this a confessio-
“Y/n, I wanted to tell you that-”Kita said, snapping you out of your flustered thoughts.
“Oh, Y/n, I found you!” Atsumu sang, waving his hand as he ran up to you. You cringed at the feeling of Atsumu wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Kita, I need to steal sweet Y/n for a moment. It’s important” Atsumu confessed.
“If it’s important then I suppose it’d be selfish for me to say no” Kita responded. “Great, she will be back in a flash” Atsumu beamed, tugging you away to a different section of campus.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Couldn’t you see I was busy” you huffed.
“There is nothing more important than spending time with me” Atsumu replied. “You’re such a narcissist” you insulted.
“And you, sweetheart, are a car wrecker,” Atsumu remarked, stepping closer to you with every word, arms crossed to emphasize his biceps.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about” You laughed in disbelief, trying to act dumb.
“Ain’t I the luckiest man in the world to have security cameras?” Atsumu confessed, a smile on his lips as he waved his phone, a video of you committing the crime on the screen.
Fuck-fuck- Fuck you’re so screwed. You’re going to get charged with trespassing and Destruction of property. You’re so going to get kicked out of school.
“W-why haven’t you shown this to the police already” you stuttered, voice cracking, hands shaking at your side.
“I wanted to give ya a better option” Atsumu hummed. “What are you trying to say” you replied.
“You’re going to be my sweet girlfriend for a month”
“What? You’re not serious. You hate me like I hate you” you scoffed in disbelief. “Are you going to question me or be a smart girl and take what I’m offering?” Atsumu uttered, leaning over to your ear, his breath heating your neck.
“Only for a month?” you repeated, hands forming a fist to your side, sucking up your pride.
“Only for a month” Atsumu confirmed, pulling away to show you his smile. “Fine” you huffed.
---
You walked back to Kita, still shaken up from what had just occurred. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worried” Kita questioned, reaching over to hold your hand in his.
“Yeah, I’m fine. You wanted to tell me something?” you laughed away his concerns. Kita adverted his eyes, a faint red appearing on his cheeks as his lips turned into a subtle smile,
“I just wanted to know if you had feelings for me…because I admire you. I want to be with you. If you’ll allow me to” Kita confesses, finally having the courage to look back at you.
You couldn’t believe it, your heart was about to bounce out of your chest until you saw the demon- Atsumu Miya behind Kita,
“Reject him. “ he mouthed.
Why couldn’t Kita confess next month?
#yandere x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#yandere haikyuu x reader#yandere haikyuu#yandere atsumu#atsumu miya x reader#yandere atsumu miya x reader
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hi! hope ur okay. did you see that harry performed wet dream with wet leg? can you pleaseee write a harry x reader (she's singing with him) they're not a couple but there's some tension between them
Perfect Harmony
read my other work here
pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader
word count: 2.1k
warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.
summary: you're in the final days of the tour, and Harry makes a suggestion that ends up changing everything.
a/n: i did see that! he's really going out with a bang, isn't he? i hope you like what i did with your ask! 🖤
tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat
You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, when there was a knock on your dressing room door. You called for them to enter, keeping your eyes on the mirror in front of you. You see Harry come into view behind you, and your gaze locks on him in the reflection.
“Don’t worry, you look stunning.” He assured you. You chuckled, running a brush over your cheeks to try to hide the blush that grew from the compliment.
You thought he was just being kind, but you had no idea how deeply he really meant those words. Ever since he found your performances on YouTube, he had been completely captivated. He immediately got in touch with his team and did everything he could to get you onboard as his opening act.
When you met face to face, the feelings only intensified for him. He was immediately smitten. He didn’t make a move, however, technically he was your boss and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He decided it would be best to just be your friend, and you became close very quickly. You spent your days off exploring the cities you were visiting, you would hang out backstage singing and laughing, you had even written a couple of songs together.
But the tour was coming to an end, and you would be going your separate ways. Harry was dreading the last show for a lot of reasons. Having to say goodbye to you was just about at the top of that list.
“So listen,” he continued. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”
You put the makeup brush down and turned to face him. “Whatcha thinking?”
He took a deep breath, he was undeniably confident about this decision when he thought of it an hour ago, but now that he was standing in front of you pitching it, the doubts were starting to take over. “Well, I mean we only have two shows left,” he gave you a sad smile, which you returned. “And I want to get as much stage time as possible, and give the fans something special to remember me by. So I was thinking that maybe I could join you onstage during your set, maybe debut one of the songs we’ve written together?”
“Debut?” You question, you thought those songs were just the two of you having fun, you never expected them to see the light of day. “I didn’t know you were planning on releasing them.”
“Oh,” he was a little surprised by your reaction. “I mean, I haven’t actually planned to, but they’re really good Y/N, the world should hear them.”
You consider his words, it would be fun to share the stage with him. His fans had been so welcoming and accepting, you had even noticed some people starting to sing along to your songs. “Yeah, okay. That would actually be really fun.”
He responds with that wide, dimpled grin that makes your heart flutter, but you quickly suppress those feelings. You’re Harry’s buddy, he doesn’t see you that way. He never would.
You spend a few minutes deciding on a song, and once you’re in agreement he runs you out to the stage for a quick rehearsal before the fans start flooding in. Once you’re finished with that, you say your goodbyes and go to your respective dressing rooms to get ready for the show.
You feel as though you're performing the best set of your career, you can’t tell if it’s the fans or the anticipation of sharing the stage with Harry. Maybe both. You’ve grown a lot as a performer, but also as a person. You’d always loved singing, but the live performance piece always gave you a sense of dread and anxiety. You were never particularly comfortable in your skin, so the idea of standing up in front of all those people, bearing your soul was pretty terrifying. But Harry and his fans had made you feel so welcomed, comfortable, and loved that you got to a place where you couldn’t wait to hit the stage.
“Alright, I’ve got one more song for you guys tonight!” You announce into the microphone. “It’s a new song, I’ve never performed it before, so I hope you like it.” You pull away from the microphone, as if the song’s about to begin, but before the music can kick in, you hold up a finger to the crowd and step back up to the microphone. “Actually, I’m going to need some help with this one, so I”m going to have the co-writer come out and help me. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Styles!”
The arena erupts into cheers and screams as Harry makes his way onstage with his guitar, smiling and waving to the crowd. He steps up to you, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek before whispering in your ear. “Let’s do this.” A chill runs up your spine at the feeling of his breath against your skin.
You shake it off and step up to the microphone as Harry strums the opening notes. You open your mouth and the notes fly out of you with ease. The song is going even better than it had in rehearsals, you and Harry’s voices complimenting each other perfectly. There were tens of thousands of people in front of you, but it felt like you and Harry were the only two people on earth. There was a sparkle in Harry’s eyes when he looked at you, you hadn’t noticed it before, but you just chalked it up to the excitement of premiering a song in front of a live audience.
You and Harry hit your harmonies on the final note, and the audience goes absolutely insane. You look over at Harry and chuckle as he shoots you a wink. You walk up to him, lifting his hand in victory and you bow together. “Thank you Lisbon, this guy will be right back, but I’ve been Y/N!”
The two of you run off stage together hand in hand, adrenaline running high. You stop and face Harry once you’re backstage.
“Holy shit,” you exclaim. “That was amazing, I can’t believe how–”
Your rambles are cut off as Harry crashes his lips against yours. You stiffen in shock briefly, but soon melt into the kiss. He lifts his hand to your cheek as his tongue runs across the seam of your lips, you let out a soft sigh, allowing him access to your mouth.
He pulled away far too abruptly for your liking, your eyes fluttered open to see a look of shock and embarrassment on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” his eyes were wide.
“It’s fi–”
“No,” he interrupted you. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh, okay.” Your eyes dropped to the floor. You thought that maybe he was feeling the same way about you, but by his reaction you could tell that he was clearly just caught up in the moment. He didn’t mean it. “I’m gonna, uh… have a good show.” You said to him, retreating to your dressing room before he could respond. Before your tears began to fall.
Harry gave his all on stage, it was his second to last show and the fans that came to see him tonight deserved just as much as the fans that came to the first show in 2021. You would have never known that his mind was swirling the whole time, all he could think about was that kiss. You had kissed him back, you were sure of it, and you almost seemed disappointed when he pulled away and apologized. He should have been enjoying this moment, reveling in some of his final moments on stage, but he couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could find you.
The second he was off the stage, he rushed to your dressing room only to find it empty.
“Shit.” He slammed a fist down on the table. He had made a real mess of things this time.
You laid in your hotel bed absentmindedly clicking through the television channels. You had left pretty much right after the kiss. The tour was almost over, you just had to lay low for a few days, and then you and Harry would have plenty of distance.
Just as you were starting to doze off, you were startled by a knock at your door. You contemplated just ignoring it, assuming they would take the hint and go away, but the next knock was louder, more insistent. You sighed and got out of bed, moving to the door.
Upon opening it, you were greeted by Harry, a sad smile on his face. You never thought there would be a day where you didn’t want to see Harry, but here you were.
It wasn’t anything against him, you just didn’t want the ‘I like you as a friend’ talk. You’d heard it so many times in your life, you weren’t sure you could handle it from him. Sure, you knew that was where his head was at, but if he never said it, you could still grasp onto that little sliver of hope that he might see you as something more.
“You didn’t stay for the show.”
“Yeah,” you shrug. “It’s been a long tour, I just kind of wanted an early night.”
“Oh,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping to look at his shoes. “I thought maybe it was because of what happened when we got off stage.”
You huffed a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it Harry, we had just gotten off stage, there was all this adrenaline and we were on a high. It was a mistake in the heat of the moment.”
Harry looked up at you, his brow furrowed. “Did you think it was a mistake?”
You were taken aback by his question. “I mean, you apologized and said you shouldn’t have. I just assumed you thou–”
“I didn’t apologize because of what I did. I apologized because of how I did it.” He looked at your face, trying to gauge your reaction.
When he walked into your empty dressing room, he got hit with the sudden reality that in a couple of days, you’d be going your separate ways and he didn’t know when he was going to see you again. He decided that he needed to put it out there, tell you how he was feeling.
There was a storm of confusion swimming in your eyes. “What… um, what do you mean?”
“May I?” He gestured behind you. You nodded and stepped back, allowing him entry to your room. You both took a seat at the end of the bed. “Kissing you wasn’t a mistake, I’ve wanted to kiss you practically this whole tour. But it shouldn’t have been like that, I should have talked to you first, told you how I feel. Made sure the feelings were reciprocated.”
“Feelings?” You questioned, your heart starting to race.
“I think you’re amazing, Y/N, I’m crazy about you.” He looked at you with a vulnerability in his eyes that took your breath away. “I’ve been too afraid to tell you, I thought it might make things weird if you didn’t feel the same.”
You look up at him in shock. You never expected those words to come out of his mouth. You were still trying to process his words when you noticed a slight panic cross his face, you realized it had been longer than it should have been, and you were just staring at him. “I do.” Was all you were able to say.
“Yeah?” His lips curved up into a smirk.
“Of course, how could I not?” You ask. “You’re so sweet, and thoughtful, you make me laugh harder and more often than anyone I’ve ever met. Not to mention you’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Well, when you put it like that I see your point.” He joked.
“And so humble about all of it,” you roll your eyes sarcastically.
He chuckled softly before reaching over and taking your hand. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”
You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth with a smile as you nod your head. “I would really like that.”
You sat there in silence for a moment smiling at each other. Both of you marveling in the situation you found yourselves in.
Harry was the first to break the silence. “Do you think maybe I could kiss you again? You know, show you how it was supposed to be?”
“Yes, please.” You smile.
Without skipping a beat, Harry leaned forward, capturing your lips. There was no surprise this time, no tension, just butterflies and happiness. When you signed on to open for Harry, you never would have expected that Love on Tour was going to be taken so literally.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles headcanon#harry styles fluff#harry's house#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry edward styles#harry styles imagine#harry styes one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fic
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“Backfired Birthday”
bada lee x reader
summary: trying to surprise bada for her birthday with a cake and decorations, but it goes horribly wrong
word count: 2.2k
warnings: uhm they shower together but it's cute and wholesome, slight angst?? reader lowkey has a breakdown, not proofread
notes: I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE A SHORT FIC LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO- also, the other Bada birthday fic will be posted later, seeing as it's technically ready to post now, but I wanna add a little more spice to it lol
The week leading up to Bada’s birthday had gone really well- you would even say it was perfect! You had everything set in stone and were determined to give her the best birthday ever, especially since it was the first one you were celebrating as a couple. You two had been friends for the last few years, having met through dance. You were both choreographers and instructors for Just Jerk Academy and got to know each other through another dancer from the studio. When Howl had said he wanted to introduce you two to each other, neither really knew what to expect, you assuming that Bada and him were a thing, and her assuming the same of you and him. So it came as a shock when he set you two up on a date and claimed he was trying to help his girls stop being single. And here you are years later, happier than ever, preparing for your now girlfriend's birthday.
When you woke up that morning, you made sure to get up a little earlier than usual to prepare an extra special breakfast for your lovely girlfriend. it was storming severely outside and it eventually got so bad that the power went out- cutting the line for your toaster, your fridge, your microwave, and your electric stove. You were so disappointed in your failed breakfast that you ended up just going to lay back in bed with Bada, who gladly accepted your warmth as you snuggled your way back into her arms.
The two of you woke up again, together this time, about an hour later. The power had seemed to come back on at some point, although it was still raining pretty hard outside. You ended up making a simple breakfast and ate together quickly before Bada had to head off to the studio for some lessons today. You made sure not to take on any classes in order to prepare all the festivities and gifts for your girlfriend, in order for her to have the most relaxing and satisfying birthday when she got off work.
The first thing you did was head to the store to pick up some ingredients for a cake, as well as look for a nice champagne or wine that would make the evening even more romantic. After getting the basic ingredients, you spent the next 45 minutes stressing over whether you should get champagne or wine, reeling you knew nothing about your girlfriend’s more refined drinking preferences. Eventually, you decided just to skip the alcohol (even though you definitely felt like you needed some right about now) and move on to the checkout.
After the unnecessarily long shopping trip, you made your way to the floral shop to pick up the arrangement you had ordered a week ago. When you arrived, an older lady who seemed to have been working there a long time was working the front register. You went up to her and let her know you were there to pick up an order. She scanned through her system and looked confused briefly before asking if it could be under a different name. After you shook your head, she asked for your phone number and email address to track your receipt, but nothing came up again.
You were beginning to panic until a younger-looking girl walked about from the back and the older lady flagged her down.
“Marcia, do you remember if you took this young lady’s order any time recently?” the older woman asked turning stiffly toward the younger worker, who tensed up and flitted her eyes back and forth between you and her manager.
“Uhm… I think so…” The older woman sighed shortly and asked
“Well did you give her any sort of receipt?” to which the younger girl shook her head and looked like she was about to cry, but to be honest you were too. Things were quickly starting to fall apart and you could feel it. After about 30 minutes of searching, they ended up not being able to find any sort of receipt to show your order was taken, but the younger employee admitted to having taken your order earlier that week and not giving you a receipt, so the older lady, who you assumed to be the shop owner, offered to whip something up for you at a discounted price of what you would've originally paid, to which you accepted, then had to immediately decline after hse told you it would be ready after Bada would've already gotten home.
Leaving the flower shop and heading back home, you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, which were decorating and baking Bada’s birthday cake. As you pulled into the driveway, the rain picked up again, soaking you as you got out of your car and grabbed all the groceries from the back of your trunk. While you were trying to walk as fast as possible, a stray cat ran out from one of the bushes in front of your house, startling you so badly, that you dropped the bag with all the decorations in it, spilling them onto the concrete, causing them to get soaked in the rain and some covered in mud, leaving them unusable. You tried to pick them up and quickly make your way inside to assess the damage and hopefully still be able to use some of the decorations, but you had no luck seeing as they were so damp and stained with dirt that there was barely anything left from what could've been saved anyways.
You let out the biggest sigh ever and threw your head back with a groan. You told yourself it was okay, seeing as you still had about three and a half hours until Bada would be home, and in that time all you had to do was bake a cake, seeing as you had no champagne or decorations to prepare. But that also made you realize you hadn’t gotten her a present or even a card.
In a state of absolute panic, you slipped your shoes on and ran back out to your, starting the engine and swiftly backing out of your driveway. You ran to the nearest store, which happened to be the one you had already visited today for the cake ingredients, and picked up a birthday card. Soon after that, you ran to the mall and spent the next 45 minutes trying to decide between getting Bada a new jersey or a new pair of sneakers. You didn’t feel as if either was enough to showcase how much you loved her, so you just bought both, not even worrying about your bank account at the moment.
Once you made it back home for the second time, you immediately set the oven to pre-heat while you began preparing the batter. You have an hour and a half now before Bada gets home, so it’s crunch time. You still wanted to shower and change into a cute outfit so you’d be all ready for when she got home, but thought that was a bad idea since you were in the middle of baking. The cake batter was coming together nicely until the power suddenly went out again in the middle of you mixing the batter. You let out a mix of a scream and a groan in frustration.
The power suddenly turned back on a few moments later, which you weren’t prepared for- especially since your mixer decided to turn back on as well while didn’t have a grip on it, sending the bowl flying off the counter and batter to splatter everywhere- all over the walls, the counters, and covering you as well. You let out a shocked scream as it happened and immediately reached to unplug the mixer, frozen in shock afterwards.
You felt like such a terrible girlfriend as you stood in the messy kitchen, wondering how you were gonna clean up the chaos and yourself before Bada got home. She had no cake, no decorations, and You couldn’t even get her the proper flowers. Everything just felt like a disaster, and you couldn’t help but tear up as you surveyed the mess around you.
You didn’t even hear the door unlock, only noticing your girlfriend swinging the door open and walking through after she had already closed the door and locked it behind her.
“Hi baby- woah, what’s going on?” the tall girl giggled and smiled lovingly at you from across the kitchen as she took off her hoodie and threw it on the back of one of the chairs. You looked around in a daze and once you made eye contact with her, you felt your lip quiver as you tried to put on a smile.
“Happy birthday my love” is what you tried to say but couldn’t even finish as you burst into tears. You felt pathetic, covered in cake batter, crying in your messy kitchen in front of Bada on her birthday. It made you cry even harder when you became self-aware and felt you were being selfish since your girlfriend probably had a long day and now here you are trying to take the attention away from her on her day.
Bada wasn’t thinking that at all though. She immediately made her way to the other side of the kitchen to wrap you in a hug and kiss your head, ignoring your protests (“You’re gonna get batter all over you-” you cried into her shoulder. “Shhh it’s okay” she shook her head and pulled you closer). You stayed that way for a while until you calmed down for the most part. When you pulled away slightly you looked up at Bada with puffy eyes and a pout, which she smiled enedaringly at and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You began to tear up again, so disappointed in yourself for not being able to pull off something so simple. But Bada put a stop to it once again immediately.
“Princess- it’s okay” she giggled sweetly, wiping away your tears and caressing your cheek. She tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and began slowly leading you towards the bathroom.
“Why don’t we take a nice shower together, yeah?” the tall girl asked softly, still not letting go of you, making sure to have some sort of physical contact at all times while the two of you made your way around. Neither of you even bothered to grab clean clothes, heading straight for the bathroom. Bada started the shower, holding your hand and softly looking over her shoulder every few seconds to smile at you reassuringly. Once she was satisfied with the water temperature, Bada took her shirt off first, leaving her in a sports bra and cargo pants. then she proceeded to help fully undress you before taking off the rest of her clothes and ushering you both into the shower.
You relaxed slightly under the warm water and closed your eyes, letting the droplets soak your hair and skin, already slightly cleaning you off. Bada reached behind you to grab the shampoo off one of the shelves and squirted some out into the palms of her hands before lathering it in your hair. She stood in front of you, gently tilting your head back as she continued to wash your hair, you standing with your arms wrapped around her waist, eyes still closed, finally feeling at peace for the first time that day.
After taking a little longer than expected due to getting distracted by some innocent shower kisses, you both finished helping each other clean up and hopped out from under the water which had gotten a little colder than what it was before. You playfully dry each other off, giggling and pressing sweet kisses to random areas on each other’s face, neck, and shoulder; you head back to your shared bedroom wrapped up in your fluffy towels. You sleepily pick out some clean clothes to wear, both of you only grabbing an oversized shirt and a clean pair of undergarments to sleep in.
After getting dressed and hanging the towels back up, Bada turns off the bedside lamps, and you both snuggle up under your covers.
“I’m really sorry I couldn’t give you an amazing birthday, and that I cried the second you got home” you apologized, staring up at Bada in the dim light with sad puppy eyes. You could barely make out the loving smile on her face as she pressed a kiss to your forehead, then a couple to your cheeks, and then one to your lips.
“Don’t apologize for anything. I had an amazing birthday, simply because I got to spend even a sliver of it with you…” Bada reassured in a hushed voice, pulling you in closer to intertwin her legs with yours under the covers. She kissed you once again softly on the lips before resting her forehead against yours.
“I love you so much, and any moment I get to spend with you is already such a gift, so thank you, my sweet girl.” her sentiment and sweet words made you tear up again, but you were able to swallow it down this time.
“I love you too. Happy birthday, my love.” and you both fell asleep happily cuddled into each other, with the sound of the rain pouring outside.
permanent taglist: @uwulyn
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Can I come with you?
Tags: fem!reader, angst
Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader
Warning: The death of a canon character, the reader longs greatly. There may be errors in the text, as I am not a native English speaker, I often had to use the help of a translator
A/n: I was inspired by the song "Ap$ent - Можно я с тобой? (Can I come with you?)" and wrote this headcanon based on the verses of that wonderful song. As I wrote above, I don't speak English, so I used a lot of translators, trying to write normally 😞. Please let me know if it's really bad.
Горят фонари
Я бы до зари с тобой мог говорить
The street lights are on
I'd chat you up till dawn
Though you were no match for Dostoevsky in intellect, Fyodor thought you were an smart person with whom he could have a good conversation. In those rare moments when the man gave you time, you could talk for hours, mostly on quiet evenings, against the window, which was not covered by curtains, and thanks to this, the room was illuminated only by the bright light of the moon, giving its own special, peaceful atmosphere.
Но тебе снова пора
Как всегда, какие-то дела с утра
But it's high time for you to be gone
You've got work to do, as well known
You and Fyodor spent very little time together. You didn't like it, but there was nothing you could do about it. After all, Dostoevsky was obsessed only with his goal, and it was his first priority. You couldn't deny it. And you, no matter what, wanted to be with him and always waited for him.
Longing was your frequent companion when you felt the lack of a man's attention, but you didn't bother him, realizing the importance of his "purpose" realizing how much own plans meant to him. Every day you woke up and went to sleep alone. Though there were exceptions when Fyodor lay down with you, but, as a rule, in the early morning he was no longer in bed. And those moments were so rare that you could count them on your fingers.
Да, тут так себе вайб
Видимо, пора. Ну что ж, бывай, родны край!
Yes, the vibes here're better be kept at bay
So, my land, bye-bye! Seams, it's time to go away...
That was the day. The day when you saw Fyodor for the last time in your life, but you hoped with all your might that it wasn't true. You couldn't even sleep for a few nights, thinking about him all the time. And you were not comforted by the thought that Fyodor was so damn cunning and clever, and he always had everything under control. Every day was a nightmare for you, because those damned thoughts were tormenting you from the inside.
По кустам ночной тропой
Да, план отстой.
Nocturnal trail is truly long
Yes, the plan is sucks
You heart sank into my heels, and there was a look of pure shock mixed with sadness on my face. You didn't want to believe that Fyodor was dead. How, HOW the hell could this have happened? Your breathing quickened at the news, and you fell helplessly to your knees, clutching your head with your hands. You'd always known his plan was a really sucks, and you'd even said Fyodor about it. But he didn't care what you thought of his goal.
To get your thoughts together, you decided to go for a walk. It was a blue night and a cool breeze was blowing. That's what you needed..
Всё давно позади
Но зато есть вспомнить что и что обсудить
All in the past, the deeds we tried
But there are things to call to mind
It had been about six months, but you still wanted to be with Fyodor, to hold him again, to kiss him, to listen to him. You missed his attention, which he gave you, though rarely, but still gave it to you. Maybe he didn't really love you, and you were just a pawn...or maybe not? But that didn't bother you much. You wanted to be with him and only him. It's hard without him. So hard, such unbelievable pain. Every single day you remembered all the moments with him, that was your only consolation.
Если решишь уйти на покой
Вдруг раньше, чем я — постой
If you decide to leave peace
before I do, hold on...
One day you were sitting on the roof of a high-rise building, looking up at the night sky, rubbing the pendant that Dostoevsky had given you. You never took it off, especially since the man was gone from your life. The longing was eating you from the inside out, but you had to be strong! Hah....You couldn't. Or just didn't want to, who knows. Your gaze was downward, the city seemed so small, and people walked around below like ants. Building was too high and you were sitting on the very edge. but it didn't scare you.
— Можно я с тобой?
nightsadness © 2024
#Spotify#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#bsd fyodor#fyodor bsd#fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoevsky x you#fyodor dostoevsky x reader#fyodor bsd x reader#bsd#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader
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So I know this post is pretty overdue and a bit superfluous by this point maybe, but since I am now back home and finally have time to sit down and write down my thoughts about the last few days, I thought I'd still do a recap post of my experience of the Dublin shows (and a bit about my trip to Dublin in general). Just for anyone who might be interested or even just for me to remember everything by!
Having said that though, I don’t actually know how to even begin putting into words what this trip meant to me 🥺 I’ve said this before, but after seeing them in June and thinking that was it for the foreseeable future, getting to see them again so soon, twice, and it being the very last two shows of the tour as well, felt like an incredible opportunity and huge gift and I could not be more grateful for it ❤️
Recap of Dublin shows 3 & 4 and some more pics below the cut!
I flew in from Amsterdam on Tuesday morning with a Dutch friend, and we met up with another friend of mine who flew in from London at the same time (my London friend went with me to Tuesday's gig, and my Amsterdam friend to Thursday's gig)
London friend and I then headed to the 3Arena to queue up outside and it was fucking freezing lmao. But we played ‘guess the Arctic Monkeys song from the intro’ and had a chance to catch up so all in all it wasn’t too bad, and it’s always so much fun being surrounded by fellow arctic monkeys fans who love them enough to queue up for hours in the cold <3
Once we were inside, we legged it to the stage and then spent another two hours trying to defend our (pretty good, very central) spots and trying not to think about the fact that we had to pee, as you do. We happened to be standing next to a group of Dutch speaking girls, and it turned out one of them had also met Miles in Amsterdam recently, at the same signing I’d been at! Such a small world. But they were really lovely so the two hours flew past, and then it was Miles time!!!!! 🥰
And my god, he literally blew everyone away, he was just insanely good as always. My friend was not really a Miles fan before the gig, and then while he was playing, she kept going “holy shit minnie he’s so good??” and I was like “TOLD YOU”, so now she’s a big fan as well, which is honestly very satisfying 😌 There were so many amazing moments during his set, but the one that stayed with me most I’ve already talked about in this post. It was honestly just…. very intense and really hard to explain in a non-shippy way? Even my non-shipper friend was like… hmm ok yes, that seems very significant 🤔
But anyway, Miles rocked the house, and then it was only a short wait until the main show. And while most of it is a blur because I just lose my mind when I see my boys play, I did make sure to really absorb some special moments and things I really wanted to remember. Being able to clearly see Alex’s intense, goofy and beautiful facial expressions, his HANDS, the cute little interactions he had with the rest of the band (giggles with Matt and smiley asides with Jamie and Nick), the moment where Alex made grabby hands at the plushie and then laughed some more when he couldn’t have it, Jamie being an absolute rockstar as always, Nick looking like a total snack (my friend has a giant crush on Nick, understandably so), Matt being a literal drum god (I love seeing him play SO much). Just... incredible 🙌🏻💘
I really wasn’t expecting Miles to join them during that show, so when Alex gave him a shoutout I knew it was just that, but my friend didn’t, so she started hitting me like “he’s coming back!” and I was like “no he’s not”, and he wasn’t unfortunately lmao. The Dutch and Belgian girls next to me were extremely disappointed (they were Milex shippers as well, of course), but I know at least one of them was there on Thursday as well so I love that for her. Other memorable moments were Alex singing the “remember when you used to be a rascal” line followed by “do you remember? I remember” after which I yelled at my friend “Miles used to be a rascal!!!” and then later I found out Miles was actually on that side of the stage 😭😭 Even though I didn’t find out about that until later, I definitely noticed that Alex kept gesturing towards that side of the stage (the Star Treatment intermezzo was wild, I was like, “WHO is he pointing at for the dolls like you and me thing??” And then it turned out to be Miles 🫠
Another thing I noticed was that the average age of the crowd was way lower than I’m used to it being, which my friend explained may have something to do with tiktok? Lmao idk, hut the the standing crowd did mostly consist of younger, shorter girls for some reason lol, so there wasn’t as much jumping as I’d have liked there to be. My friend and I just went for it regardless, even if we were some of the only people going crazy. But you just have to, you know what I mean? Anyway, it was such an incredible show and after it ended, we were just on cloud nine, singing Fluorescent Adolescent with everyone on the Luas going back to town, which is always just such a blast. And then we ended up in Temple Bar where there was more live music as well as about 500 other Arctic Monkeys fans, so that was great fun too 💫
The next day, the three of us went to a tattoo shop where I’d booked an appointment and I got my tattoo which I am EXTREMELY happy with. The tattoo artist was a girl from Brazil and when she asked me about the meaning of my tattoo (I’ll post a pic later) I told her it was an Arctic Monkeys song and the just yelled across the shop to a few other artists and it turned out they’d been at the concert too, so we all geeked out about them while I got my tattoo done lmao, so much fun 😂
Then my London friend unfortunately had to fly back home later that day, so my Amsterdam friend and I ended up in the pub again because that’s what we do. It was just a very average pub with two very average men playing amazing folk music, and when we walked in, I was like “huh that guy looks like Zackery Michael, that’s funny.” And then later I was stood next to him at the bar and heard he was American, so I was like hmmm, and decided to just ask him if he was in fact Zackery Michael. He was like “that is me!” lol (thank god, would’ve been embarrassing if it hadn’t been) so we had a little chat about the fact that we were both in town for Arctic Monkeys but in slightly different capacities lol, and he was just super nice and was happy to take a photo with me, and then I let him get back to his conversation with the three extremely pretty girls he was with 😅
Anyways, so then on Thursday after breakfast we bought some souvenirs and I bought some great Arctic Monkeys mini posters and some other stuff at this lovely little comic book/record store which was playing Humbug, the owner of which told us he also went to see Arctic Monkeys on Tuesday and loved them, so that was another amazing chance meeting 💜 And then it was after 12pm so it was time for whiskey, and then the meeting with the fellow TLSP/Arctic Monkeys/Miles Kane fan bartender happened which I posted about here, which was so lovely and also secretly made me want to believe it was a sign for the show that night 🙈
But I still couldn’t let myself hope or believe TOO much, so I just kept telling my friend “they’re not going to do it and that’s okay” and she was like “sure, whatever you say” 😂 We had seated tickets for this gig, so we were unfortunately much further away than I had been on Tuesday. And also I just don’t like being seated at concerts, let alone an Arctic Monkeys one, but to be honest, the seats were pretty good. Miles once again gave his absolute all and converted not just my Dutch friend as well, but also a lot of the people around us who we overheard saying things like “did you know he was this good??” and checking Miles’s Wikipedia page, which was great to see. And from up on the balcony we could clearly see that the people in the crowd were really singing along and having an amazing time during Miles’s set (COTT was extremely emotional, all the lights were so lovely ✨️) and I just felt so proud of him and happy for him that it was such a roaring success 🥹💖
The roaring success continued for Arctic Monkeys of course, although it was really weird to see so many people go mental for Snap Out Of It and Arabella etc. 😅 But yeah, the people do love AM it seems, which is why the first part of the setlist was pretty much the same as it had been on Tuesday. Hello You was amazing though!! And then after There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, I knew that it was 505 time, and Alex did say ‘Let’s hear it for Miles Kane’. But because it was the same thing he’d said before, I was still convinced Miles wouldn’t come on. AND THEN HE DID 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I absolutely lost my shit, not even kidding. I just started screaming and threw my phone at my poor friend being like “FILM IT” which she did, bless her heart, and uhhh, yeah then I cried throughout the whole performance 😭 And then at the end, the lights went out and I saw their shadows (our shadow puppets <3) coming together so I was like did they hug??? And then I only found out later that evening when I checked tumblr that they in fact did hug and then my night was just completely made (lol, I say my night but I mean my life, obviously)
Do I Wanna Know was a total blur after that of course, but I was back for Body Paint which was absolutely incredible as always. And then they did Big Ideas as the encore and uuhhh yeah I sobbed 🙃 It was SO beautiful, and so special hearing it live with the strings, and SO fucking sad. And then once RU Mine? finished and the lights stayed off, I was like aaahhh we’re getting one more!! And then OF COURSE it was Perfect Sense because Alex is a dramatic bastard, and of course I cried some more. It was stunning and extremely emotional 💔
So then my friend and I went to drown my sorrows (and elation about the Milex reunion) in the pub and we actually had a great time with some fellow AM fans and live music again. I swear it was like all of Dublin was just there for Arctic Monkeys. Unfortunately, we were not in the pub where the boys apparently went ugh, but still, it was fun. And yesterday morning I woke up with a killer hangover so I swore I would not drink anymore, but it was raining so much, so we did end up in the pub again where we got talking to some really cool Irish guys who (surprise) also loved Arctic Monkeys, and they insisted on buying us drinks so obviously I couldn’t decline. So we just sat and drank with them until we had to catch our flight, and of course by that time I was tipsy and maudlin and the weather wasn’t helping so I cried all the way to the airport (especially since we passed the arena again) and then I cried some more in the airport like the drama queen I am 🥲
It’s just that I’m so sad it’s over, and so scared and worried about the future of the band, with how much this felt like a goodbye 😔 But I’m just going to assume that it’s just goodbye for now, and that they’ll take a well-deserved break, maybe do their own things for a while, and that in a few years’ time they’ll get back to making music together again. I really do think they have so much fun doing what they do together, and they’re basically like family, and Alex wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he couldn’t make music, so surely they’ll be back eventually. But please, just don’t be too long boys 🥺🙏🏻❤️
All in all, though, what has stayed with me most from this trip is a sense of gratefulness that I was lucky enough to experience all this, my 8th and 9th Arctic Monkeys gigs to date, the last dates of the tour, the Milex reunion (!!!!!!!) and to get to share it with two of my best friends in the world, a whole bunch of arctic monkeys loving strangers who I randomly met, and all of you guys I’ve met on here these past few months. The sense of connection and community I’ve found through this band means so much to me, more than I can say, actually, and I’m so grateful to them for that, in addition to the music they’ve given us. And although the tour is over, I am honestly looking forward to sharing the love we have for them with you all for a long time to come and for now, I am so excited about getting back to writing my silly little Milex stories (and insanely happy they finally gave us that little reunion we hope for, so that I’m still excited and hopeful about their relationship rather than heartbroken and resigned, which is what I probably would’ve been if they hadn’t performed together. So thank you for that, boys 💘)
So yes. Very, VERY long story short: Arctic Monkeys is and always will be my favourite band in the world, they ended the tour on an absolute high (and with Miles!) and this was an experience I will never, ever forget ❤️
#oooff this got a but long sorry#i just had a LOT of thoughts and feelings I needed to get out apparently 🙈#mostly good stuff though!!!#i had an absolutely incredible time 😭❤️#arctic monkeys#miles kane#alex tuner#matt helders#nick o'malley#jamie cook#dublin#the car tour#minnie talks
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Even When You Were Invisible
Based on the movie The Princess Diaries (2001)
NCT Dream Jisung x fem reader, fluff
A/N - so I recently rewatched The Princess Diaries and just had to write this into a oneshot. This focuses more onto the budding romance side-plot of the film, so I’ve taken some liberties and adapted the narrative a bit. This is also unedited for now - please excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes!
Disclaimer: I have used a direct quote from the film which is in italics. I am not trying to replicate the film, just use the plot as inspiration. I do not take any credit for this plot. This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only. Jaemin’s character does not reflect him and is purely to fulfil the shallow character he plays. Mild use of language (like 5 swears, maybe??)
“How’s my baby?” You gleam at Jisung, catching him off guard from where he’d been so focused on tinkering around with the car engine in front of him. He bolts upright beside you, quickly grabbing hold of the car bonnet and slamming it down before reaching into his pocket to pull out the rag he uses to wipe off the engine oil from his hands.
“All good.” His voice comes out strained, watching as your smile somehow grows wider. He observes the way your hand smooths over the shiny baby blue metal of the car, gazing into the way it reflects your loving expression.
“Well, she looks amazing.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his, watching the way his Adam’s apple bops. “Thank you, Sungie.”
“Oh, it was really no problem…” he gushes, playing down all the turmoil your precious car has given him over the last few weeks. Not that Jisung ever plans on telling you about all the extra hours he’s spent fixing up your car for you. He doesn’t mind at all. He spends most of his free time at the garage anyway because his band is also allowed to practice there in return for Jisung helping out repair some cars.
It’d be a dead giveaway to all of the feelings he has towards you and he also knows you’d insist on paying him extra for his time if you knew when you’ve already put every penny of your savings into repairing the car you’d worked so hard to get.
Besides, with the way you look at him now, radiating so much adoration, Jisung feels it’s more than enough compensation for his hard work.
“You’re the best!” You reach out to ruffle his hair the second he ducks his head shyly from your compliment. Whispered giggles tumbling from his lips as his cheeks burn. “Can I pick her up tomorrow after school?” You shine those big doe-like eyes at him.
“No problem.” Jisung nods, smiling warmly. And he watches you skip out of the garage with so much excitement, shouting a “see you at school!” over your shoulder. Just as you have left his line of sight, Jisung is called over by his band mates for practice. And while they spend the rest of the evening playing their songs, Jisung continues to replay your interaction over in his mind. Damn, he’s down bad for you.
You reach home quicker than usual, thanks to the spring in your step from Jisung’s amazing work with your baby. You’re so unbelievably excited to finally be able to drive your dream car. You’ve wanted a baby blue mustang since you can remember, so you’d scraped all of your savings from your part time job together to buy the old beaten up car and payed the garage where Jisung works to make your car dreams come true.
“That you honey?” You hear your mom call as you walk further into your house. She sends you a smile over her shoulder when your bag clatters onto the kitchen table. Picking up an apple from the fruit bowl as you watch her refocus on the painting before her.
“Did you get another commission?” You speak through half-chewed apple.
“Uh-huh.” You mom hums, placing down her brush carefully onto the tray beside her easel before turning to you. “Who knew posting my art online would rake in so much work?”
“I did.” You tease, taking another bite of your apple.
Your mom shakes her head at you while rinsing her hands in the sink. All the while, you push yourself away from the counter, grabbing your bag to begin heading to your room.
“(Y/N), wait!” Your mom calls just as you reach the stairs. “Your grandmother called today. The live one.” Your mom adds upon seeing your shock.
“The one I’ve never met?” You tilt your head in confusion, bushy eyebrows furrowing. “What would she suddenly want?”
“She said she wants to have tea with you after school tomorrow.” Your mom explains. “Something about important news she needs to share with you.”
“Oh, I was supposed to pick up my car tomorrow… but I guess I’ll have to rain check.”
That was two weeks ago now and little did you know at the time how much your life was about to change.
The following afternoon, when you’d arrived at your estranged grandmothers house - or should you say mansion - you’d had your world flipped upside down.
“A-a Princess-” your mouth hangs agape, unable to comprehend the situation at hand. Your eyes dart around the room, looking from your grandmother to her staff, then the security, before finally landing back on your grandmothers perfectly calm expression. She’s not joking. “No no no nonononono." You shake your head.
“You’ve got the wrong person. I’m the furthest thing from a princess. Look at me!”
-
As it turns out, they did not have the wrong person. Your father, who you’d never met, had been heir to the throne of the small European country you’d never heard of and after his death, that left you - his only child - next in line.
You’d come to an agreement with your grandmother that, before anyone made any rash decisions, you’d give it some time to try out the role of Princess. And so commenced the ‘Princess training’ every day after school with your grandmother. You’d learn how to walk, talk, sit, stand and live like a true Princess within the agreed trial month between this life altering news and the annual independence ball.
Sworn to secrecy, you’d not told a soul about your new informed identity. So, while your private life has somehow changed in every single way, your school life has not budged an inch. From the hours of 8-3 you’re the same invisible girl, with your two bestest friends since kindergarten, Jisung and Chenle.
“Woah, he’s so dreamy.” You gush, resting your chin in your palm as you watch Jaemin walk past your lunch table. Jisung simply rolls his eyes at the way you simp over the most popular guy in school, like always. He doesn’t get the hype around Jaemin. So what if he’s the captain of the football team, extremely lean and always seems to have perfectly shiny hair? Anyone could have all of those things. Jisung could have all of those things…
Despite the fact that he’s almost flunking gym class because of his terrible hand-eye co-ordination in football.
Jisung feels his only consolation is that Jaemin is dating Nina, the head cheerleader.
“Anyway…” Chenle speaks a little louder, “as I was saying before (Y/N) let her hormones take away from the crisis at hand. How am I going to get another guest for my show on Saturday?”
Ah yeah, you were trying to console Chenle on his last minute drama. His school curricula radio show, Talking with Chenle, had finally been getting more than three listeners a week. And ever since his audience has started to slowly grow, he’s been putting more and more pressure on himself to promote the topics he cares about with guests.
“Dude, chill. You still have four days to find a replacement.” Jisung grumbles from beside you. He looks a little like he’s sulking, although you have no idea what could have possibly made him so annoyed within the last thirty minutes that you’ve been sat at your lunch table.
“So much help you are.” Chenle fires at the grumpy Jisung on your left as he stands from the table, slings his bag over his shoulder and storms off.
You turn your attention to said grump, frowning.
“That wasn’t nice Sungs.” You watch as regret consumes his face, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he mumbles a muted apology.
“So, are you collecting your car from the garage tonight?” Jisung finally builds up enough courage to ask you. He’s been battling in his mind for the last few days on how to bring this up, so he’s a little nervous, but tries his best to suppress the shyness that wants to win over.
“Oh I can’t.” You guiltily grimace. You feel terrible putting him off again, especially when you were meant to pick up your baby weeks ago. But, since you’ve been having your ‘Princess lessons’ everyday, you’ve had no time. “I’m seeing my Grandmother.”
“Again?” Jisung regrets how quickly the word slips out of his mouth. But you don’t seem offended, nodding yes in response.
“How about Saturday?” You quizzically raise a brow, biting down onto the corner of your bottom lip in anticipation.
“Saturday works…” You let out a breath in relief upon Jisung’s agreement. “…and maybe you can stay for a bit, hang out?” Jisung suggests.
“…it’s just my band are practicing that afternoon in front of a few people and it’d be great to have a bit more of an audience…” Jisung trails off, cutting off his word vomit just in time to notice the way your smile reaches your eyes.
“Sounds perfect.” You beam, just as the bell rings for class.
-
You were beyond nervous. Petrified, if you’re completely honest. Yesterday evenings ‘Princess lesions’ with your grandmother had turned out to be a head-to-toe makeover and you’d come out the other end of the evening looking like someone entirely different. Some may even say, like a Princess. Gone were your glasses, bushy eyebrows, your hair had been cut and the frizz tamed. To you, you look almost unrecognisable. To Chenle, you look amazing. But to Jisung, you look like the very thing you’d always swore you’d never want to be - a popular - and it scared him.
While you liked your new look, you felt like a bit of a sellout for complying with the makeover to look more ‘regal’ - as your grandmother had described it. So you’d walked into your first class of the day wearing a grey bucket hat, so as to cover as much of your new look as possible.
Jisung had to do a double take when you entered the classroom and took your usual seat beside him. He’d always thought you were beautiful before, but wow, you’d somehow managed to ascend to another level quite literally overnight. From under the hat, he could see your bright eyes and long lashes. The neat shaping of your eyebrows and the plumpness of your lips, accentuated by the baby pink lip gloss you’d applied. Although, he’s unsure of why you’re wearing a hat on such a warm summers day, especially when you’re inside.
“Okay class, simmer down.” Your teacher, Mr Sums enters from the back of the room, hushing all of the excited chatter in the room as he places down his bag on the front desk and begins to set up for the class. “Yes, Nina?” He acknowledges without so much as glancing in her direction.
Nina sat in the seat behind you, perfectly poised and ready to strike. She’s the head girl in your grade for a reason, with her off-scale intelligence, popularity and cunning attitude. She will take down anyone who gets in her way. Which, right now, is your hat covered head that’s in her line of vision to the front of the class.
“Mr Sums. Isn’t there a rule about no hats allowed?” You can feel her smirk on the back of your neck, letting out a concealed huff as you try to prepare yourself for what you know is going to happen next.
“You’re right Nina.” Mr Sums sighs, “(Y/N), please could you remove your improper dress coded attire?” He glances at you and your mortified expression, watching as you gulp down your nerves while simultaneously reaching up to reluctantly slip your hat off.
Out tumbles your perfectly smooth hair as it cascades down past your shoulders. Jisung’s eyes almost pop out of his head from beside you. Not that you notice, too busy being consumed by the gasps from your classmates.
“Oh wow.” You hear Nina laugh, “Look who’s trying to fit in now?”
Her sickly-sweet tone only makes your cheeks burn deeper and you try to sink into your chair.
“Well, I think (Y/N) looks stunning, actually.” Your head whips towards Jisung, grateful for him sticking up for you. You send him a thankful smile as class begins and everyone’s attention is turned away from you. For now.
-
“So what’s the deal with your sudden change of appearance?” Chenle questions as he shovels his salad into his mouth. His words come out slightly muffled between the half-chewed lettuce and Jisung just rolls his eyes.
“Nothing.” You try to shut down the topic, bowing your head into your own lunch.
“It’s clearly not nothing.” Chenle deadpans, before narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re hiding something.”
“Am not.” You grumble into your sandwich.
“So you’ll be coming to my baseball game after school then, like we agreed weeks ago?”
Shit. You’d completely forgotten about Chenle’s baseball game and you know for certain you can’t get out of seeing your grandmother.
“I can’t.”
“See!” Chenle drops his fork into his salad, folding his arms as he turns to Jisung for support. “What? Are you just bored with us now? Don’t want to be friends anymore?”
“No, that’s not even close!” You cry in distress.
“Then tell us what’s so important that you keep dropping us (Y/N).”
You bite down on your jittering bottom lip, your worried eyes casting from Chenle’s unimpressed expression to Jisung’s concerned one.
“I’m not allowed to tell…”
Upon this half-confession, Chenle drops his attitude and leans across the table to speak quieter.
“Are you in trouble? Being blackmailed again? Do we need to beat someone up?”
“No!” You shut down his conspiracies, hands flying up in surrender.
You know you shouldn’t tell anyone. But you also know that if you don’t spill it all to them now, you’ll risk loosing the only people keeping you sane. Heaving a deep sigh, you know what you have to do.
“Okay. You have to promise me you’ll keep this strictly between us.” You point between your two intrigued friends, encouraging them to lean into the table so you can whisper. “I’m serious. The repercussions if this gets out-”
“Just tell us.” Chenle rolls his eyes.
To other students, it simply looks like your gossiping like any other group of high schoolers. But if they were to look closely enough, they’d notice the way both Chenle and Jisung’s eyes blow wide and how the colour seems to drain from Jisung’s face faster than lightening.
“You’re a what-” you cover Chenle’s mouth before he has a chance to shout anything further, covering it with a “Shhhhh.”
“Promise this stays between us.” You stick your pinky finger out for them to link, watching as both of your friends entangle theirs around yours.
“Damn. Wish I could be a…” Chenle begins to mutter.
“Dude!”
-
Walking into school the next morning feels a little more unnerving than usual. You’re barely through the threshold of the gates when someone spots you and shouts “that’s her!”.
Everything’s a blur from that moment. With a frenzy of people shouting “Princess!”, a crowd of students swarm you in seconds, phones and cameras are flying in front of your face as they all take pictures and videos. You feel nauseous from being elbowed and shoved in the midst of the unfolding chaos. However, just when you think your about to spew your guts from the motion sickness, you feel a pair of hands find your waist and clutch onto you, wrapping you into the taller frame of your saviour and using their body as a shield until you’re safely out of the crowd.
“Follow me.” Your saviour moves you away from their hold, clutching onto your hand and forcing you to run as you’re dragged along behind them to a place of refuge. You’re pulled into the main building and twisted through the narrow corridors until there’s no one on your tail.
It’s not until you’re hidden inside a janitors closet that you’re able to look at the person before you and realise it’s Jisung.
“How do they know!” You rush back into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso and burying your face. Jisung is winded a little from the impact, tumbling a few steps back with you before he regains his balance.
“It’s ok. Everything’s going to be ok.” He whispers into the top of your head, fluttering his eyes shut as he inhales the floral scent of your freshly washed hair.
Of course, Jisung has no idea how your secret had gotten out, or what to do next. All he knows right now is how perfectly you fit in his arms and how much he wants to protect you.
“I want you to know, it wasn’t me.” You pull away from Jisung, peering into his worried eyes. You’d never once doubted it would have come from him and there’s nothing more in the world you want right now than to let him know that. Cupping his cheek, you brush your thumb over his soft skin.
“I’d never even consider that being a possibility.” You soothe.
Jisung drinks in every drop of affection you give him as though he’d been traversing the desert for days on end without water. Knowing you never could have accused him rehydrates him and makes his heart feel like it could burst.
“It wasn’t Chenle either. I was with him all evening after his baseball game.”
“I don’t doubt him either.” You reassure. “This feels bigger than just some school gossip.”
-
After cooling down in the janitors closet for a while, you’d managed to sneak out and into your first few classes of the day without too many people bombarding you. Your principle had made an announcement to not cause another commotion and all staff were on patrol during lesson changeovers and breaks.
“Wait, (Y/N)!” You turn to find Chenle forcing his way to the front of the cohort of students following you, instantly linking his arm with yours as you continue to uncomfortably make your way to class surrounded by your new admirers. “You’re an overnight sensation!” He beams, loving the attention on you both.
“Tell me about it…” you mumble, juxtaposing Chenle in every way. Unlike your friend, you’re not made for the limelight. You don’t like all the attention on you. Not now, not ever.
This was one of your biggest fears about people finding out you’re a Princess.
“So, you’ll be my special celebrity guest on Talking with Chenle this Saturday, won’t you?”
Your mouth gapes, finally making eye contact with him and ready to outright refuse. Until, you see how hopeful he looks.
Damn it. There’s no way you can turn him down.
“Sure…” you sigh, unable to hide the small smile that forces its way onto your face when he jumps in excitement.
“You’re awesome!”
-
“(Y/N)!”
You’re just closing your locker when you hear your name, your heart picking up pace from the unmistakeable voice of your caller.
Spinning around, you find none other than Jaemin, smiling at you with his signature smile and staring at you with those heart melting eyes.
“How are you holding up? Been a bit of a crazy day…” He leans one arm on the locker beside you, standing so close you can smell his earthy cologne.
“Just a bit.” You giggle sweetly.
It’s amazing how Jaemin can have such an affect on you. One word and your mind has gone to putty and you’ve forgotten how to act like a normal person.
“Well, I just wanted to apologise for Nina this morning…”
“Huh?” You furrow your brows, feeling yourself come back down to earth.
“She was the one who shouted when you entered the gates and made everyone swarm you?” Jaemin’s tone comes out unsure, not realising that you weren’t aware when you let out a light “oh.”
“I just wanted to let you know that I do not condone that at all. In fact, I broke up with her because of it.”
“You did?” You gush, surprise written all over your face.
…and you’re off in space again.
“Yeah, it was totally not cool.” Jaemin nods. “Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the end of school beach party with me this Saturday?”
Oh my gosh! Na Jaemin just asked you out!
“Yes!” You blurt. “I-uh I mean, yeah” you swallow, “sounds cool.”
“Cool.” His smile reaches his eyes. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
You watch dreamily as Jaemin walks away to join his group of friends at their lunch table. You’re only pulled back into reality when you spot Jisung perched on the edge of the fountain across the courtyard.
“Guess who just asked me to go with him to the beach party this Saturday!” You park yourself next to Jisung on the ledge of the fountain. “Jaemin!” You squeal your answer when Jisung simply raises an inquisitive brow at you.
“But, what about seeing my band practice?” Jisung tries to not sound depleted.
“Well, I was hoping we could reschedule? I just, I’ve been wanting to go out with Jaemin since forever and you’ll have other band practices, right?”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Jisung forces a smile, feeling himself deflate the second you’ve squeezed him in a tight hug before skipping off to get some lunch.
His attention flickers over to the table where Jaemin sits. How could Jisung ever compare? He’d always felt you were unattainable to him because of how he was too shy to express his feelings. And that was before your new look and title. But now? He has no shot.
You’re a Princess for goodness sake. You belong with the most popular guy in school. Not a shy keyboard player in a band that sings in the local garage like him…
-
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” Your grandmother rushes to you as you arrive for your ‘Princess lesson’ of the day. She takes you by your shoulders and peers at you intently.
“Now,” she exhales a deep breath. “We’ve got the press under control with the looming promise of the annual independence ball, so long as they keep a little distance for now.”
You nod in understanding.
You were honestly a little nervous about seeing your grandmother this evening. You’d been worrying about her reaction to this all getting out, even though she is calm and has dealt with an unimaginable amount of trials and tribulations during her many years of reign. She is also strong willed and has made it clear to you that - even though you have yet to make the choice to accept your title and duty - the expectation of this trial period would be as though this is your future.
“And we’ve found that the leak was from the stylist we’d hired.”
There’s more relief in knowing your Grandmother knows it hadn’t come from you than there is from the culprit being found out.
“And we’ve got him doing a formal apology to the press this evening.”
-
Saturday rolls around quickly and before you know it, you’re on your way to the beach party for your date with Jaemin. Everyone who’s anyone is there; dancing, sunbathing or cooling off in the ocean as the sun begins to set.
You feel a little awkward as you walk down the beach to join the other party-goers. It seems like it’s well underway already and you’re not typically one to mix with the crowd in attendance.
“Welcome to paradise.” You almost jump out of your skin upon hearing Jaemin’s voice from your side. You had been so engrossed in your awe of the scene in front of you, you didn’t notice he’d walked over. “I got you a drink.”
You accept the plastic cup, your fingers brushing accidentally with his. Chuckling a flustered thanks before taking a sip, you try not to be affected by his amused grin. He thinks you’re so adorable. How had you been kept so hidden before?
“C’mon.” You feel Jaemin’s hand slip into yours, gently tugging you along with him to head further into the crowd…
“Hello, welcome to Talking with Chenle.” Chenle professionally introduces when his fellow producer Mark signals they are live. “On todays show, we have a special interview with the newfound Princess and close friend of mine, (Y/N).” Mark hits the applause button.
“But, before our main guest’s appearance, we have a short segment on the upcoming senior class projects, presented by our very own Mark.”
Mark jumps in with his pre-written script, listing out the upcoming events for the semester. Meanwhile, Chenle checks his phone to see if you’ve tried to contact him about your whereabouts. Nothing. You should have been here 30 minutes ago…
Back at the beach party, you’re having the time of your life dancing with Jaemin. Uncontrollable laughter tumbling from your lips as he takes your hand and spins you around.
“Who knew you were such a good dancer?” You teasingly glance up at Jaemin as he leads you out of the crowd of dancers and to the side for some much needed air, your hand still firmly in his.
“Well, who knew you would make such a great dance partner.” He praises back, succeeding in making you flustered.
You cast a shy glance up at him through your lashes, still unable to believe that this is reality. You really are here with Jaemin, hand in hand in front of everyone. You feel like you should pinch yourself, just to double check your not dreaming all of this.
That is, until reality comes crashing down in a burning rage. What you’d simply brushed off as a plane flying above you, turned out to be a helicopter filled with paparazzi. It lowers, the wind from the propeller cutting off the party and almost knocking everyone off their feet as multiple cameras flash at you, trying their best to get a good snapshot.
You panic, a million questions buzzing around your mind. What should you do? How do you get away? But most of all, how did they know you’d be here?
“Quick, follow me!” Jaemin pulls you, both of you running towards the lifeguard shack at the back of the beach.
Once inside, Jaemin bolts the door shut and silence and darkness settle around you.
“I’m so sorry.” You plant your face into your hands as you fall into the chair behind you. Being chased by paparazzi - all shouting Princess at you - was not a part of your imagined date with Jaemin. And it’s mortifying to know that’s the reality.
“Hey.” You hear him whisper, his larger hands coercing yours away from your face. In the time you’ve been wallowing, Jaemin had made his way over to you and knelt down to your level so the first thing you see are his eyes and the way they catch the moonlight that filters in through the crack in the curtain covered window. “It’s not your fault.”
His sincerity mesmerises you and washes away your humiliation. How does he do it? How does he seem to know the exact right thing to say?
Meanwhile, Chenle’s radio show is crashing and burning live on air. The last forty-five minutes have been filled with Marks terrible jokes and ramblings and it’s all because of you.
“Alright, I’m off.” Chenle sounds defeated, taking off his headphones and making a stand from his chair the second the ‘live’ light goes dim.
Mark doesn’t respond, nodding his understanding as he watches his friend walk away. He knows it’s not his fault. Heck, Mark did everything he could to act on the spot and make the best out of the shit situation. Chenle is grateful for Marks loyalty and perseverance.
But damn, he still wishes you’d showed… they both do.
“Ok, I think they’ve given up.” Jaemin asserts, peaking through the curtain to find a dark and empty seeming beach. The relief that fills you has you following Jaemin out of the lifeguard shack without thought.
“Thank you for sticking by me, it means a lot.” You timidly smile at Jaemin, allowing him to take your hand in his as you begin to walk up the beach.
Before you have time to register, a bright flash snaps in front of you, the momentary blindness giving time for multiple lurking paparazzi to spring out from their hiding places and surround you both.
“Princess! Who’s your date?”
“Is this your boyfriend?”
“Princess, give him a kiss!”
The crowd shout as you panic, looking around to try and find an escape route.
You spot a slither in the sea of bodies and pull on Jaemin’s hand, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he complies to the crazy demands of the privacy invading press and scoops your body into his. His lean arms make your desperation to get away worthless and before you know it, he’s cupped your cheek and forced you to look at him.
With one final deer-in-the-headlights look at him, Jaemin crashes his lips to yours.
It takes you a few seconds to register what he’s doing, before you muster up the strength to shove him away and force yourself out of the circle.
You can’t believe he just did that.
-
“It’s really not that bad.” Jisung tries to console you.
You’re flopped over the table, head in your arms as you try to block out every piece of reality. After Saturday’s kiss fiasco, the picture had been posted everywhere. There was no escaping the horrifying image of your first kiss with Jaemin. No less because you’d always dreamt your first kiss with Jaemin would be magical, like something out of a fairytale. And while you may be a Princess, this feels nothing close to those magical Disney princess movies you adored so much growing up.
For starters, where is your fairy godmother? You could really use one of those right about now…
He can’t lie, Jisung’s a little heartbroken seeing the picture of you kissing someone else posted everywhere. He’s upset for you, knowing how much you hate the situation. But, selfishly, he’s more gutted for himself. That should be him in Jaemin’s place. In fact, if he’d been lucky enough to kiss you, the image wouldn’t have existed because he never would have done it in front of the cameras. Knowing that Jaemin used you to get his 15 minutes of fame angers him too. The first time he saw the picture online, his fists had clenched so tightly from the rage that bubbled up in his stomach his nails had left little crescent moons in his palms. And yet, he can’t bring himself to not look at the grainy image.
“Not that bad?” You retort. “Any hope I had of being Princess has gone down the drain.” You begin to sob.
“What’s my grandmother going to say?”
Jisung doesn’t realise how stern his face had been until he finally looks away from the picture to find your eyes peaking out from their hiding spot. His gaze softens in a heartbeat, his hand reaching out to instinctively rub your back.
From your peripheral, you recognise the group passing by and tear your gaze away from Jisung’s to find Jaemin and his friends snickering as they walk past.
“Hey (Y/N), great kiss.” Jaemin puckers his lips mockingly.
You’re not sure what hurts you more, having reality shred the mask to uncover his true, obnoxious personality to you or knowing how many years you spent pining over someone so shallow.
“Ugh.” You bury your face back into the safety of your arms, blocking out all daylight and - you hope - reality.
-
After a lot of pep-talk from Jisung, he finally managed to coax you into going to your next class. But it’s not until final period, when see Chenle enter the classroom, that you realise you hadn’t seen or heard from him since last week. You send him a smile when he makes eye contact, feeling confused when he frowns back before taking a seat on the opposite end of the room.
You find yourself casting glances in his direction throughout the class, hoping to catch him looking over at you at least once. But nothing. Not even a peep is sent your way.
“Chenle,” you chase after him. Barely five seconds after your teacher had dismissed class, Chenle had been out of the door and down the corridor. You’d had to sprint through the throngs of students just to get to him before he got out of the building. “Why’d you not sit with me?”
But your question is met with the biggest eye roll you’ve ever seen as Chenle continues to make his way out of the school grounds.
“Did I do something?” You press.
“Did you do something?” Chenle fires back at you, narrowing his eyes vehemently. “Try what you didn’t do!”
You’re dumbstruck.
“I have no ide-”
“My radio show Saturday?” Chenle sasses. Thank goodness you’re down the street by the time Chenle finally stops walking and begins exploding on you. “I had to listen to Marks lame jokes for an hour.”
“Oh my god! I’m so unbelievably sorry.” Your eyes go wide, mortified at how you’d completely forgotten about being Chenle’s guest. “I’ll make it up to you next time, I swear!”
“There won’t be a next time.” Chenle scoffs, turning away once again. “Oh,” he stops himself to mention one last thing. “and, just so you know, just because you a Princess now, doesn’t mean the only thing that matters is you.”
-
“Hey Sungs.” You mournfully approach where Jisung finishes polishing your car. The garage is oddly quiet, no music or clatter sounding in the usually busy space. No. Instead, it seems like it’s just you and Jisung here. “Thank you for taking such good care of my baby.”
“No problem.” Jisung sends you a half-smile as he hands over the keys. “She’s all yours.”
“You don’t know how much this means to me.” You warmly smile, but feel your mood drop when he doesn’t reciprocate like he usually does. There’s a silence that fills the space between you. You’ve never felt so awkward with Jisung before.
“Well… I better get going…” you try not to sound too deflated, jangling your keys in the air as you go to open your car door.
You watch as Jisung takes a step back from the car, his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets as he wordlessly watches you.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” You timidly look at Jisung, stopping yourself from clutching the car door handle in front of you. “You don’t think I think the only thing that matters is me, right?”
There’s a timidity to your tone that makes Jisung gulp. He knows all about the argument because Chenle had ranted down the phone to him for a hour after school and he can tell Chenle’s words have gotten to you. At the same time, however, he feels a little dumbfounded that you seem to only realise this now, after you’d had someone shout it in your face. It’s even more ironic you only ask Jisung of his thoughts when you are just about to take the finished car home. The very one that you’ve been stringing him along with for weeks. He knows he has to be honest with you.
“There were times when I would say I agree, yes.” Jisung nods. “I mean, you dropped me for Jaemin in a heartbeat and he’d never once given you the time of day before your Princess glow-up.”
“Right. I really should go…” you voice comes out hoarse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jisung feels terrible as you spare no more time getting into your car and starting the engine. It revs to life and roars as you drive away, leaving him alone once again. But the it sinks in how much you’d made him feel used. You’d chosen to walk away from the truth when you’d asked him for it. And Jisung can’t help but feel disappointed.
-
Walking through the halls the next day you feel so insecure. Groups of students stop their conversation to stare at you as you pass, their expressions unreadable, leaving you unable to tell if they are judging you or just fascinated.
Reaching your locker in the courtyard, your eyes light up in hope upon seeing Chenle a few doors down at his locker. You watch him until he notices you, forcing a meek smile his direction when he does. But instead of him smiling back and making his way over to you, he frowns and slams his locker shut before walking the opposite direction.
You self-consciously peer around, hoping no one had witnessed that rejection and your eyes light up when you spot Jisung.
“Jisung!” You call as he walks past. But he doesn’t even acknowledge you. Instead, he picks up his pace and your eyes follow him as he catches up with Chenle. You turn back to focus on getting the right books out of your locker, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill.
How had you managed to mess up so bad that your friends won’t even acknowledge you…
With tears still in your eyes, you enter your next class with your head hanging low. You can’t bear to look up and see your two friends, knowing they won’t speak to you. Instead, you rush to the back of the room and take the seat furthest in the corner.
But when you do eventually look up towards the front of the classroom, you catch Jisung glancing your way. He turns back to face the front a split second after. But there’s as hope that flows through you from catching the longing in his expression.
Maybe there’s still a way to win them back.
-
It’s taken a few days to figure out, but you think you know how to get your friends to forgive you. Starting with Chenle.
First you have to sneak up on him so he doesn’t get away when you try to talk to him, which from his avoidance of you the past week, has proven more challenging than you thought. But you do manage to corner him in class as everyone leaves for lunch.
“Chenle, I want to make it up to you.” You plea. “I just want everything to be right between us again.” While you’ve technically been successful in talking to him, he’s still refusing to look at you. “Tell me what I can do…”
This piques his interest.
“Stop being a Princess.” He flatly states. If only he knew…
That was actually something you’d been working on, deciding days ago that you don’t think you’re cut out for accepting royal duty as a Princess. You’ve already spoken to your grandmother about this and, despite her reluctance and assurance that you would be more than capable for the role, you’d come to a mutual agreement to make no public announce until the evening of the ball.
You wish you could tell Chenle, but you can’t break your promise to your grandmother. You’re done breaking promises you’ve made.
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of attending the independence ball this Saturday?” You send him a hopeful beam.
You take his blank expression and lack of a quick response as a good sign and continue to persuade.
“It’s invitation only…”
Chenle sighs. Damn him and his weakness for exclusivity. Plus, he’s always wanted to go to a ball and he doesn’t know when he’ll get this type of opportunity again.
“Fine!” He caves. “You’re forgiven.”
You squeal, jumping into him to squeeze him in a hug. You feel his chest vibrate with laughter and look up to finally see him smiling.
“I missed you.” You gush as you pull away and begin walking down the hallway together.
“I know.” Chenle laughs heartily when you shove him and roll your eyes.
You finally feel like you’re on the right track. If you can get Chenle to forgive you, then you’re pretty certain Jisung will too. Now you just need to find him.
-
“Wassup bro.” Chenle greets Mark as you join his table for lunch. You’re familiar with Mark because he helps Chenle out with his radio show and you’ve always found him really bubbly and sweet on the few occasions you’ve spoken.
“Sup guys.” Mark greets you both warmly. “I see you’re back on speaking terms.”
“Yep.” Chenle responds through a mouthful of food.
“Yeah, I’m really sorry about all of that.” You grimace towards Mark. “But I heard you’re on your way to becoming a comedic genius.”
“I think I’m good with sticking to the pre-scripted topics.” Mark laughs loudly.
“Oh, hey Jisung!” Chenle’s sudden shout almost makes you jump out of your skin.
You turn your attention to where Chenle looks to find Jisung casting an embarrassed side glance over to your table while trying to continue his conversation with one of his band mates Renjun.
You don’t really know Renjun, other than what you’ve observed. Even though he’s part of Jaemin’s popular group, he seems like a nice guy and there’s always been a part of you that’s been curious to know how he ended up with friends like Jaemin, Jeno and Donghyuck. All so loud and attention loving in comparison.
You watch as he bids Renjun goodbye and approaches, stuffing his hands into his pockets once he’s reached your table. It’s clear he doesn’t want to hang around…
“Aren’t you gonna join us for lunch?” Chenle snickers at his friend, his tone mocking at the way Jisung acts so hesitant.
“Actually, I-uh have,” Jisung gulps. “I have last minute band practice.”
“But you just said goodbye to Renjun?” Mark furrows his brows.
“Gotta go!” Jisung takes off as quickly as he can. He doesn’t look back when he hears you call after him, instead only ducking his head lower and picking up more speed. You have to run to catch him. Damn him and his long legs. You hate running.
“Jisung.” You pant, catching him by the arm and using all of your body weight to slow him down. He lets out a defeated sigh as he stops, knowing there’s no escaping having to talk to you now. “Please talk to me…” you beg, pleading with the best, saddest puppy eyes you can muster.
“What is there to say?” His voice comes of quieter than he wanted it to. He’s so hurt and upset with you and he wants to be able to express that. He usually can when it’s towards other people. But when it’s you on the receiving end, there’s just something that stops him. No matter how much you broke his heart.
“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have run away from what you’d said.”
Theres something in your words that makes him wake up and finally realise that he’s been running away too. Not just now. But for way too long. Jisung’s been running away from telling you how he really feels about you. For so long he’s talked himself into waiting for you to fall in love with him, to wake up and finally see that the person you should be with has been by your side the whole time. His feelings have been repressed and he’s forced himself to be invisible for too long. But he’s done with that now.
“Sungs, are you ok?” He blinks back into reality, not having realised he’d gotten caught up in overthinking for too long.
You watch him, wide eyed as he stands up straighter, determination written across his face.
“Actually, I have something I need to say.”
You nod, waiting intently.
“I’ve been an idiot for too long.” And… you’re confused. “I’ve let you walk all over me for years because I’ve been so in love with you.”
“Heck,” Jisung laughs at himself. “I even let you off when you ditched me for Jaemin because I kept telling myself that I wasn’t good enough for you.”
You feel your heart break knowing Jisung had been putting himself down like that. Any and every emotion courses through you as you try your best to take in the weight of his words.
“I-” you begin, but Jisung cuts you off before you have a chance to say anymore.
“I know you don’t feel the same… it’s ok.” Jisung forces a smile. “I just need some time apart.”
You feel like you’re suffocating, unable to voice anything as you watch Jisung walk away. Chocking on sobs as the weight of the world hits you like a ton of bricks.
You just wished you’d realised sooner. Because if you had, then maybe you wouldn’t have lost your best friend, you wouldn’t have hurt him for so long and maybe you wouldn’t have had your heart smashed to pieces like you just have.
-
“Can’t you just have someone do the speech for me?” Your voice is muted by the duvet that you insist to remain under. Your mom perched on the side of your bed as she encourages you to at least go downstairs to eat something.
It’s the morning of the annual independence ball and you’ve not left your bed since you’d gotten home the day before.
You’d had many home truths and realisations from Jisung yesterday. But cocooning yourself inside your duvet has really helped you process a lot. Like the fact that you love Jisung too… and not in just a platonic way. He’s always been there for you and you’ve taken that for granted.
You’ve been so dumb to your feelings for so long, brushing infatuation off as excitement or just that you really care for Jisung, when reality is that your heart doesn’t flip every time he smiles just because he’s your best friend. It flips every time he smiles because his smile is one of your favourite things in the world. It eases your worries and brightens your day.
Just being around Jisung makes you feel like everything’s going to be ok. He’s always so supportive and soft-natured. He takes care of you not because he’s a good friend but because he loves you.
You know that if he were to be here today, you’d be able to get through your speech this evening, facing crowds of people and answering to them why you are abdicating your royal duties. With Jisung by your side, you can get through anything.
Without him you’re lost.
Similarly, Jisung has been trying to drown out reality since he confessed to you by focusing all of his energy on his band practice and fixing up cars. He went straight from school to the garage and worked through the night to try and get his mind off of you.
Which is why he jolts awake to Chenle shouting in his ear for him to “wake up!”
“Why!” He cries, rubbing his sore neck from the poor posture of his sleep on the couch by his band’s equipment.
“You seriously slept here last night?” Chenle doesn’t hold back any judgment, raising his brow at Jisung as he grumbles out unintelligible remarks under his breath.
“I get you’re heart broken or whatever, but that doesn’t mean you should give up now.”
“Well, what else should I do?” Jisung, still sat in the chair he’d slept in, sulks like a child.
“Uh, I don’t know, go after her?” Chenle retorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“But she doesn’t feel the same, I’d just be making a fool of myself…”
Chenle scoffs. How does he not see it?
“Of course (Y/N) feels the same. It’s so obvious.” Chenle leans down to place his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “Trust me. I’ve had to watch you both almost every day for years.”
He’s not joking. He really has. All the times he’s rolled his eyes at the way you both act so soppy towards the other. You’ve both been too wrapped up in either convincing yourself that you have no shot, or mistaking your feelings to notice.
Jisung springs to his feet. With the way Chenle remains so serious, he knows he must be telling the truth.
“I need to win her back!”
-
You frantically pack, shoving everything you can into your bag before anyone catches on to what your about to do. You feel so hopeless, like a complete failure and you know you can’t face the crowd of influential people and reporters to decline your role of Princess. So you’re running away.
You’d managed to convince your grandmother to not send a limo because your mom wanted to take you to your first ball. And you’d also lied to your mom, telling her that your grandmother had organised a limo to pick you up.
As soon as your mom had left, the race against time had begun and you’d been flying around your room packing.
You pick up the embossed faux-leather diary your grandmother had gifted you when you’d first met and found out you were a Princess, stilling when it slips from your grasp and falls open to reveal a letter that had been tucked in between the pages.
Carefully picking it up and unfolding it, you realise it’s from your father before he passed away.
His heartfelt words bring tears to your eyes as he expresses all the love he has for you and his country as soon to be King. But the final line strikes something within you that makes you rethink everything you had planned to do.
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all. From now on you’ll be travelling the road between who you think you are and who you can be. The key is to allow yourself to make the journey.”
-
Helping Jisung come up with a plan to win you back is easy for Chenle. With the independence ball being that evening, nothing could be more perfect than Jisung turning up, declaring his love and sweeping you off your feet. Just like a true Prince. So he’d offered the plus 1 you’d given him to Jisung.
Waiting in the grand hall for your arrival feels like an eternity. Everyone seems to be here except you.
“Have either of you seen (Y/N)?” Your mom rushes up to Chenle and Jisung in a slight panic. Both of them shrug, shaking their heads no in response. “She told me a limo was picking her up, but apparently she told her grandmother I was bringing her.”
Shit. There’s something in Jisung that springs into action upon the possibility that you could be in danger.
“Stall until I get back.” Jisung directs Chenle.
“Where are you going?!” Chenle shouts back, but it’s too late. Jisung’s already run off.
“Oh no no no…” you whine as your car conks out, the heavens pouring down on you and pooling in your hatch-back. “Is this what I get for messing everything up!” You shout at the sky, flopping back into your seat and sobbing your heart out.
You don’t blame the universe for this payback. You deserve it after all your selfishness. But you have been trying to make amends, to right all of your wrongs. You have every intention to go to the independence ball to share your decision in person. It’s the least your families country deserve. It’s the least your family deserve. But, right now, you’re failing. Failing at getting to the ball on time just like you failed at making amends with Jisung.
Gosh, even when you’re trying to do something else it’s still seems to end up on Jisung…
Just as you’re giving up all hope, a car horn jolts you up in your seat with a gasp. The headlights blind you momentarily as they round the corner, until the car has stopped beside you.
“Need a ride, Princess?” Your mouth hangs agape as the window rolls down to reveal Jisung in the drivers seat.
Although you can only see the top half of him, you’re heart summersaults from his attire. There he is, coming to your rescue, dressed in a black tuxedo and bow tie. He looks just like Prince Charming.
“How did you find me?” You remain in your car, unable to move from the shock… and the cold. You look like a drowned rat as the storm continues to shower down on you.
By this point, Jisung had gotten out of his car, into the pouring rain and rushed over to help lift you out of your vehicle to transfer you into the warmth and shelter of his own.
“Lucky guess.” He smirks from the drivers seat, twisting the keys and bringing the car to life again, before racing through the dark deserted streets.
You watch him from the passenger seat as he remains focused on the road, mesmerised by the steady focus of his eyes and his tight jaw, the way his hair - now wet from your rescue - drips little droplets of water onto his forehead and nose, down his cheeks to his perfectly plump lips.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You’re caught off guard by his question as it breaks the silence that had settled. You hadn’t even realised you’d been staring that long, or the fact he’d noticed.
“I was… just looking.” You blush, turning to look out your window. You’re just thankful it’s dark right now.
A few seconds go by and you begin to recognise the street just as the car pulls into your grandmothers driveway and stops at the entrance.
“Wait!” You clutch onto Jisung’s arm as he goes to open his door. He freezes from the touch before slowly twisting back to look at you. “Thank you.” You whisper.
“It was no problem.” Jisung sends you a tight lipped smile.
“No. I mean, thank you for always being there for me.” You elaborate, moving your grip down his arm until you get to his hand, entangling your fingers with his. “For loving me.”
Jisung’s breath hitches. He’s not sure what to say. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. And the way you continue to stare at him makes him feel so warm and fuzzy and loved.
“(Y/N), I-”
“I know you said you wanted space.” You cut him off. “But I’m so lost without you.”
“Why me?” He whispers.
You slowly reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him in closer and closer until your noses touch. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe in his signature piney scent. The familiarity makes you feel like you’ve arrived back home and gives you the courage to utter your next words ever so breathily.
“Because you saw me when I was invisible.”
The next thing you know, Jisung’s lips are smashed against yours. You’re unsure which of you initiated it, not having had your eyes open in fear of his rejection. His lips are just as soft as you’d imagined they’ve be and you feel yourself unable to suppress the smile that explodes across your face, causing Jisung to smile into the kiss too.
Everything seems to fall into place again. Who knew kissing your best friend could feel so right?
Pulling apart breathlessly, you both continue to smile at each other, idiotically in love.
“We really should get inside and put Chenle out of his misery.” Jisung chuckles, only imagining the chaos he’s cause by trying to stall.
“I guess…” you trail off, sending Jisung a sheepish smirk. He knows exactly what you’re thinking. “…Or we could kiss some more?”
“We can do that later. But first, you have to tell your country you will be their Princess.”
~ bonus ~
“How’s my baby?” Jisung rolls his eyes.
“I told you to stop calling me that.” He deadpans, failing to hide the blush that tinges his cheeks from the way you smirk at him.
You know he loves it really.
“But it’s cute!” You continue to tease, laughing as you speak.
“Whatever you say Princess.”
#nct fluff#nct angst#nct oneshot#nct drabbles#nct fanfiction#nct fanfic#nct x reader#nct jisung#nct dream fanfic#nct dream imagines#nct dream x reader#nct dream#nct dream oneshots#nct dream fluff#nct dream jisung#kpop fluff#kpop angst#kpop x reader#kpop fanfiction
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MORE THAN LOVE | K. MBAPPÉ | 3
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Summary: Sometimes even love is not enough for relationships. But it's fine because you are over it. But getting again in a contact with his younger brother wasn't smart.
TW: French translation from a translator
Notes: This was the first time and also the last time I tried to write dialog in french, and never again! So with this I wanna apologize to french speakers, because i belive it is gonna be shit. Also I'm curenntly stuck at home for another week with a sickness, so I'm opening requests now!
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You didn't want to leave your bed that day, but you also knew that you needed to get up. Ethan was supposed to come in two hours, so you had two hours to make yourself look less miserable than you actually were.
It took you another thirty minutes before you were able to get out of your bed. With a few curse words you made your way to the kitchen first, and then to the bathroom where you got ready.
You actually didn't do anything special, because, at the end of the day, Ethan was your little brother, he knew how you looked in the morning, just in his brother's shirt and his giant sweatpants. But you wanted to look good for yourself, to show Ethan how his brother's absence in your life didn't have any effect on your life.
Which obviously have.
After changing from your PJs into some hoodie with sweatpants you spent the rest of the morning dancing to your favorite songs to light up your mood. Which worked as always.
As you were singing the last words of Sexy Bitch, you heard the doorbell ring. All out of breath, you went to the door to open it. There you found Ethan with a giant grin on his face.
"Did you hear that?" you asked as you moved out of his way to enter your flat.
"Little bit" he laughed "hello by the way." you got closer to him and you hugged him.
"Hey." as the hug ended you look at him from top to bottom. "You grew up again, right?" you didn't remember him as tall as he was now.
"Or you got smaller" he laughed "where can I put my jacket?"
"Funny." you rolled your eyes as you pointed to the hook on the wall.
"Will you get me a home tour like in those youtube videos?" he asked with a giant grin playing on his face.
"Well there is not much to see, but sure if you want to." you talked while he was taking off his shoes.
"There is a bathroom" you pointed to the door on his left side "that door next to them is the toilet and there is my bedroom." now you were pointing to the right side. But my favorite room is there." you started to walk thru the last door, turning back to Ethan as you reached the middle of the room. "This is my kingdom," you said as he turned around your living room connected to the kitchen.
"This room screams your name." he laughed as he started looking out from the windows.
"Why?" you sat down on a couch.
"The plants, the painting, the big windows." he sat next to you. "I really like the view tho."
"The view is actually the reason why I chose this flat." your apartment was situated in the courtyard, which made him really calm.
"Menteuse," he said with a playful tone. You just furrowed your eyebrows.
"What?" you didn't get why he called you a liar.
"You can't tell me that you choose this flat because of the view, you lived in an apartment with a view of the Champs de Mars." Ethan raised his eyebrows and fixed his gaze on you.
"That's true but this apartment has its own vibe, you know? It is cozy, the view makes you calm, and it is my safe place. No stress, no worries, just silence." Kylian's apartment was giant, it was fine when the two of you were there, but when he was away it was too much. You felt so alone there, that was the reason why you always did your best to spend as little time as possible there alone.
"Kylian was your safe place back then." you felt like he was interrogating you. Trying his best to notice every change in your expression when he mentioned his brother's name.
"What is this about Ethan?" your voice stayed calm, but your eyes looked broken almost watery. Ethan noticed. Ethan always noticed, he was a good kid. He knew you for a long time and ever since he know how you reacted, he knew the look when you were happy when you were looking at his brother with so much love in your eyes, but he also knew the look when you were moving out of Kylian's apartment. He knew it all, but he still wanted to have you back as his sister. As a person who will be there when his brother won't. Who will go to his games, take him to his favorite restaurant, and call his brother afterward to tell him how he played.
"I miss you Y/n." his expression changed as he realized how uncomfortable he made you. "I miss KyIian when he was with you, he is different now. It is not like when you two didn't know each other. I miss you in my life, in OUR lives." he started to play with the bottom of his shirt. You didn't have any words to say, as you would probably begin to cry, so you just leaned to him and wrapped his hands around his shoulders.
"I'm so sorry Ethan." you began. "I miss you and your whole family too, even Kylian. But there is nothing I can do about it. There were reasons why we didn't work out. Because we both deserve better. We deserve someone who will be able to give us their 100%, and who will support us 24/7. He needs someone who will be able to attend to the maximum of his matches and I need someone who will understand how important I is my work. That I am not the type of girlfriend that will sit all day alone at home just waiting on him to come from training. At least I am not like that now. I have my own dreams and goals, and as much as I would love to support him in his dreams I need someone to support me too." first tear escaped your eye, but you wiped it down so Ethan didn't notice. "I know we didn't see each other in the past months, but if it is what you want, I would love to be in a contact with you again." you finished.
"He doesn't know that I am with you now. He doesn't even know that you called me on my birthday Y/n, because if I told him he would be begging you right now to come back." he paused for a minute, making you think about his words. "He is a piece of shit since you two broke up, but it is even worse since the world cup. He was talking about you the whole morning."
"What?" as much as you need more time to process everything he was talking about, the fact that Kylian was today talking about you couldn't go unnoticed.
"Yeah, you know he sometimes sleeps at home, since he is complaining about how much is his apartment empty and silent without you and how that apartment is not his home, since the day you left. And he told me that he saw you yesterday, he was telling mum how beautiful and happy you looked, and how he wanted to start running after you when you closed the cab. But he also told us that you deserve to be happy, which you definitely are without him."
"I didn't know that Ethan." you had no idea how much the break up of the two of you affected Kylian. You thought that getting over it was much easier for him than for you. That he had these beautiful models in his DM's who were there to help if he wanted.
"I'm sorry for bringing him up Y/n." Ethan felt sorry for ruining the mood, he knew that there is no reason why to talk about his brother. As much as he wished for you two to get back together, he knew that this is not his business. Kylian should be the one to try and Ethan even though he tried, seeing you know he was sure that he didn't do a thing to get you back.
"It's fine Ethan, but let's watch Captain America now, ok?" you put your hand on his shoulder. "Do you want ice cream? I bought your favorite flavor from Ben and Jerry's." you tried your best to erase that tension from the room.
"Y/n you are the best." a smile appeared on his face.
"I know Ethan." you get up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.
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After two hours and The First Avenger later you were eating some pasta you order for your lunch earlier. You told Ethan about your trip to London where you went in December, about the winter wonderland, which you were sure he would love. Ethan was also talking about his football season and about the World cup, but he didn't mention Kylian. Which you were glad for. He was talking about Qatar, its food, and how hot it actually was there. But he was also talking about his birthday party with his friends and everything that happened in his life since August.
It wasn't tension or awkward as it was at the start. This was chill, and fun as back in the days when the two of you used to hang up. The talking of you two was interrupted by Ethan's phone.
"That's Ky." his face froze the moment he looked at the screen.
"It's fine you can take it." you smiled, knowing that this won't hurt you.
Ethan looked at you like he didn't want to believe you. "I really mean it." you slightly laughed. Ethan looked at his screen for a few seconds, looking like he was considering his options, but in the end, he picked up that call.
"Hey." Ethan wasn't a good liar, even from the tone he put on from the start you could tell that she was really nervous, and it would be even weirder if his own brother wouldn't notice.
"Hé, et si je t'emmenais déjeuner et qu'ensuite nous allions au cinéma voir le nouveau film Avatar ?" [Hey, how about I take you to lunch and then we go to the movies to see the new Avatar movie? ] you could hear Kylian's voice from the phone.
"Je suis dehors avec les garçons en ce moment.." [I'm out with the boys at the moment.] Ethan didn't sound convincing at all.
"Vous semblez être nerveux." [You seem to be nervous.] as you heard Kylian's laugh your heart ached. "Et si on y va le soir ? tu seras toujours avec les garçons ?" [ What if we go in the evening? Will you still be with the boys?]
"Je vais probablement rentrer tard." [I'll probably be home late.] he nervously chucked making more doubts in Kylian.
"Tu es un terrible menteur, mon frère." [You are a terrible liar, brother.] he laughed again. "Tu es avec une fille ?" [Are you with a girl?] Ethan's expression changed to a terrified face.
"Vous pourriez le dire comme ça." [You could say it like that.] Ethan tried to laugh as he looked scared into your eyes. You did your best not to burst out laughing.
"Alors je vais arrêter de te déranger, je t'appelle demain et tu me diras tout sur cette fille que tu aimes." [So I will stop bothering you now, I'll call you tomorrow and you will tell me everything about this girl you like.] After this sentence Ethan said goodbye to Kylian as soon as possible, hanging the phone up before Kylian was able to say goodbye back.
"That call was a nightmare in a real life." Ethan signed as you finally burst out laughing.
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The rest of the day went great, you pushed Kylian into the back of your mind. You enjoyed it too much. You even promised Ethan to go to his next game, if Kylian won't be attending. Ethan even joked about giving you his jersey which you could wear to that game. And you laughed. You lauged more than in the past months.
When Ethan left you ended up staring from your window into the courtyard. Now was the moment when Kylian got back into you mind. You didn't like it at all. Because since you came back from Christmas he was there almost 24/7 leaving you more and more confused.
But today you understood why he was there. He was there because of the things that Ethan had told you.
"Kylian was your safe place back then."
"He is a piece of shit since you two broke up..."
"He was talking about you the whole morning."
"...that apartment is not his home, since the day you left."
"...But he also told us that you deserve to be happy, which you definitely are without him."
Were you acually happy without him?
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Tag list: @nightlockcornucopia, @she-lives-in-her-dreams, @sorceresski @m4k444 @mrs-dasilvasantoss
#kylian x reader#kylian imagines#mbappe psg#mbappe imagine#light angst#pov#ethan mbappe#football imagine#kylian mbappe x reader#more then love#kylian mbappe
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OKAY I don't rlly post much here but I saw this gorgeous au for jegulus from @ashshmee and I wanted to try writing it(my other acc is the one that commented) skshhsjdjshsbe SORRY IF ITS NOT PERFECT 😭
JAMES POV:
I had been waiting a while now for Sirius to finally be ready. Even though I'm the one who asked to go, he's taking longer than me to get ready. I had never gone to the ballet before, but it always intrigued me how those dancers were able to seem so graceful while using up more strength than I could ever imagine. Sirius had said it was his little brother's show, which really had me curious. Sirius doesn't talk about Regulus often, but when he does he's always sounded so... Surreal. Like not even Sirius fully believed he had a brother so unlike him. Sirius, even as my best friend— I can say he's a graceful as a rat. But he makes up for it in other ways; He's an amazing singer, the best I've ever heard in my 22 years on this earth. And Sirius has this presence to him on stage... It's unmatched. But for Sirius, who barely has uttered a non- sarcastic compliment to anyone in YEARS unless he was flirting, to praise someone like that... Regulus has to be spectacular.
But finally, Sirius steps out of the bathroom, his hair and makeup finally finished. It's much more elegant than his usual get up, but it still feels like him. Instead of his usual washed out black jeans and a leather jacket, he's wearing black dress pants and a black button up with only a simple smoky eye for makeup. Even his usually long wind blown hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, small strands framing the front of his face. "I'm ready, prongs! You good to go mate?" He nonchalantly says, as if he hadn't spent the last hour in the bathroom. I roll my eyes at him, "I've been ready Siri, you're the one I was waiting for." He drinks at me like that will stop us from being late. "Well what's done is done, and I'm ready now so let's go!" He shrugs on a nice black trench coat he has and walks towards the door, "We don't wanna be late, now do we prongs?" Chuckling and shaking my head, I follow him, knowing he knows full well that if we're late, it's his fault.
When we reach the theater the show had just begun. But luckily, Sirius said that Regulus doesn't come on for a few more minutes. The skill of the dancers can be seen from miles, they move in time with the music in a way I've never seen before, but would love to see up close. It would be a cool idea for a music video if we got a ballet dancer. Just as I'm about to whisper the idea to Sirius, he comes onto stage. There's no mistaking it— That is Regulus Black. And he is nothing short of an absolute dream. His short black hair, even if it's not half as long as Sirius' flows like the wind as he- "What are those turns called?" I whisper to Sirius. "Pirouettes," He replies, looking at me curious, "Why?" I don't answer him—I can't. How could I answer when Regulus was dancing? I had no idea what the ballet was about, but the aura Regulus exuded was nothing short of prince. Not even that. He was so much more. He glides across that stage with the likeliness of a star gliding through the sky. He owned everything he touched; Every step he took, every turn, every thing he did was magnificent. And the look on his face... It could put even the most beautiful of things to shame. It was delicate, like he was protecting something, but just as fierce and focused. His shining eyes look as if he has been given the world in his hands, and honestly in this moment... He could rule it and no one would protest. But just like that, the shining star, left as if he was never there. My heart doesn't slow, even as he leaves the stage. Not even as the show itself finishes. I don't even remember if he came on stage again after that. I didn't realize the show was over until Sirius was shaking me out of the trance I was in. "Prongs. Prongs!" I stare at him, still feeling dazed and heated "Yeah? What's wrong?" Sirius sighs and eyes me worried. "You were completely spaced out, mate? And you look red as well... You sure you're okay?" I nod. "Yeah, yeah of course... It was just..." I trail off, my mind immediately going to Regulus. Sirius moves his hands, trying to prompt me to say more. But there's only one thought on my mind. "You have to let me meet Regulus. Please Sirius." With a suspicious expression on his face, Sirius opens his mouth to say more but closes it and sighs. "Fine, we'll meet up with him once he finishes getting ready."
SORRY TO CUT IT SHORT GUYS BUT I GTG, SO I'LL MAKE A PT. 2 TMR I PROMISE, HOPE U LIKED JAMES PINING OVER REGGIE ALR
#mauraders#jegulus#starchaser#james fleamont potter#james potter#james x regulus#jegulus fic#jegulus au#regulus black#marauders era#marauders fanfic#marauders fic
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For the fic writer ask meme, #8: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
Here's a bit from An Elephant Is Soft And Mushy, where after Kenpachi goes on a short visit to what will later be Hueco Mundo, he and Byakuya sit down to do some scheduling late at night:
Warnings: This is the result of the Angst Goblin in my brain suddenly remembering Bleach OVA content and realizing that it makes several people's backstories much, MUCH worse, and not so much kicking the door in as blowing it away with a #suffering shotgun.
Discussion of a canon character death, and an additional implied death :)
(tagging @cesium-sheep because you wanted to see what I was going to do with the characters.)
***
“...Ken-chan?.” Yachiru glared from the doorway, rubbing the dark circles forming under her eyes. “Its really late.”
“I know, I know.” Zaraki sighed. “Can’t sleep?”
“Nm.” Yachiru mumbled, shaking her head and leaning on the doorframe.
“Hand me that pillow behind you.” Zaraki pointed, sitting up and shifting positions so his leg was sticking out beside him.
“Ta. C’mere.” he nodded, taking the pillow from Byakuya and setting it in his lap. Yachiru plodded over, waved at Byakuya briefly while yawning, and curled up beside Zaraki’s leg, head on the pillow and shoulders in his lap. He returned his attention to the patrol schedule, changing which hand he was writing with to gently stroke her hair.
“...I didn’t know you were ambidextrous.” Byakuya blinked. Perhaps this was the key to his success as a swordsman with no experience in kendo?
“Nah, I’m Buddhist.” he shrugged. “Right, where were we-?"
"I believe were up to May." nodded Byakuya, tabling his questions of handedness for now.
"May... That’s right before graduation and when everyone who is gonna quit or transfer does, right before summer scheduling so I’ve got a skeleton crew until the end of June-”
“Every division has the same problem, but yours does tend to suffer it more severely.” Byakuya agreed, watching Yachiru roll over and pull Zaraki’s leg closer like a stuffed toy, apparently setting quickly.
"Prob'ly a terrible idea, but what about dropping bait in a few tactical spots so we draw the hollows to places that can be managed with fewer patrols, rather than try to cover more ground.” Zaraki suggested, tapping a few open plains on the map.
“It’s been done in the middle districts with good results.” Byakuya nodded. “The difficulty is in the cities, where there is too much cover to patrol effectively, and in the more remote regions, where bait doesn’t have the range to effectively draw the hollows in. But it may alleviate some of the staffing issues…”
Half an hour later they’d worked out a reduced patrol schedule that would still likely catch the majority of hollows approaching human settlement, when they were interrupted by Yachiru’s soft snores. Zaraki paused mid-sentence to grin apologetically, and turned his attention back to Yachiru, shaking her shoulder until she rolled over and quieted down.
“She sleeps very soundly, but not if you’re absent?” Byakuya asked, watching the girl in the yellow lamplight.
“Yeah, but it’s not really a surprise.” Zaraki shrugged. “If anything, it’s that she’s taken to sleeping in her own bed as much as she has.”
“At her age?” Ages were a relative thing in the soul society, but Yachiru was reading well and getting her adult teeth, as she had demonstrated her loose incisor at the last captain’s meeting- by the time he’d done so, Byakuya had been commanded to sleep in his own room for well over a decade.
“I mean- Sure, she’s five hundred thirty-eight now, but she spent nearly all of that homeless with me. She was just a cabbage when I found her, and you don’t sleep without something between you and the ground, but you really don’t let a baby sleep where they’ll get cold, so for the first couple decades she slept inside my Kosode, then after it was on my chest, and then when she got to heavy for that she slept in my lap and now it’s by my back or under my arm.” He explained fondly, stroking her hair out of her face. “I’ve been her bed for half a millennium now, and I’ll probably be her bed when I’m ten thousand years old and nothing but bones and liver spots.”
Byakuya was silent for a long time.
…Had he ever slept in his father’s arms? If he did, he had no memory of it.
“That’s a miserable mug.” Kenpachi said, nudging his arm.
“I am rather morose this evening, it seems.” He sighed, looking out at the moon.
“Any hope of cheering you up?” he offered, gesturing around the small room that made his home, broadly offering whatever he had on hand.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not think so.” Byakuya shook his head.
“Ah. Monsoon mood kind of thing.” Kenpachi nodded, and frowned, turning something over in his head. “If you’re already going to be miserable, can I ask something awful?”
Byakuya tilted his head a bit to indicate he was listening.
“Yachiru goes to your place a lot- don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for every minute you’re willing to watch her. Was hard enough taking care of her out in the Rukongai, but now with the job- thanks.”
“It is… pleasant. To have her company.” Byakuya nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with her care.”
Kenpachi nodded in acknowledgement, chewing his lip. “...Last time, when I came to pick her up, I saw a lotta toys in the compound. Cute stuff- dolls, the tea set she badgered you and Jushiro into playing tea ceremony with her- But no other kids. You an’ Rukia really are the last generation, aren’t you? At least, until one of you is lucky enough to have kids.”
Byakuya looked up at Kenpachi, eyes hardening a bit in suspicion.
“...You used to be married.” Kenpachi continued.
Byakuya glared outright.
“-My condolences. Honestly. I’m not so lucky in love as you were, and losing her suddenly like that must’ve felt like getting your chest ripped open, ‘cept you don’t get the mercy of dying too.”
“What was it you wanted to ask?” Byakuya demanded, voice hard and dangerously quiet..
“I worked with a lotta women, and saw the problems they have up close. Retsu’s a damn good doctor, but even she can’t stop something if she doesn’t know it’s there to stop. Like an internal hemorrhage or septic infection, where there’s no outside problem and everyone tells women they’ll be sick and in pain during a pregnancy, so she just ignores it for a few hours but by then-”
He was interrupted by the crunch of wood as Byakuya’s fingers dug into the table.
“What was her name?” Asked Kenpachi.
“Hisana.” Byakuya growled. “My wife’s name was Hi-”
“-Not her.” Kenpachii growled back. “Who was the little girl all those toys at the compound were intended for?”
Byakuya froze.
“You had the baby sexed, or you wouldn’t have gotten dolls and tea sets. Surely you picked out a name.” Kenpachi met his gaze, cool and unflinching like iron. “What was your daughter’s name?”
For a minute, there was only the horrible numbess of grief.
“...Noriko.” Byakuya finally whispered, hands shaking as he let go of the table and hid his face. “My daughter’s name was Noriko.”
“Noriko.” Kenpachi nodded. His face didn’t exactly change but the hardness was gone.
Byakuya choked, hands pressed to his mouth. “I never- nobody’s ever said her name aloud-”
“Noriko.” Kenpachi repeated, and Byakuya sobbed. “Noriko, daughter of Hisana and Byakuya.”
Byakuya crumpled, hand clasped to his mouth to try to stifle the sobs, staring at Yachiru, still snoring in her father’s lap, tears streaming down his face and staining his scarf. There was a weight on his shoulder. It belonged to Kenpachi’s hot, scarred hand.
“I’m sorry.” Kenpachi’s voice was barely a whisper, eyes maybe just a bit red too. “But I needed to know, so I can ask what I actually need to ask.”
“What?” Byakuya whimpered, staring back at him.
Instead of answering, Kenpachi let go and shook Yachiru’s shoulder. “Hey, Kiddo.”
“Mgh?” She blinked.
“I need to get up a minute and your uncle needs a hug.” he said, pulling her up into a sitting position.
“ -’kay.” she yawned, getting up and plodding over to Byakuya and leaning into his shoulder, eyes still closed. He held her, trying to not squeeze too hard, face in her own shoulder, gasping-
“Bya-chan?” She mumbled, blinking at him. “You okay?”
“Just- Just missing someone.” he stammered. Kenpachi was rifling through the file cabinet on the other side of the room.
“Oh. Here-” Yahiru said, straightening up and hugging him back properly.
He couldn’t stop the sob this time, squeezing Yachiru to his chest for a long moment. “...Thank you, Kusajishi-san.”
“ ‘s Yachiru.” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him. “Sorry, ‘m really tired…”
“-Curl up on him, I can’t find the damn thing I was looking for.” Kenpachi called from the other side of the room.
“ -‘kay. G’night.” Yachiru mumbled, sliding down Byakuya’s chest and immediately settling in his lap. He had to fight the urge to sob again, trying to hold still and cradle her. He watched her eyelashes flutter and she drifted off, the way she wiggled to make herself more comfortable, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept-
“She out?” Kenpachi asked, peering over the table.
“Y-yes, I believe so.” Byakuya whispered, trying to not wake her.
“Good, I don’t want her hearing and worrying.” Kenpachi grunted, sitting down again and placing a file folder on the table between them. “Sorry to ask you such a bitch of a question but- Well. Needed to know the measure of man you are.”
Byakuya watched as Kenpachi pulled off his haori off his left shoulder, with a small grunt of pain, followed by the same shoulder of his kimono and kosode- Byakuya belatedly realized the thing that had looked off about Kenpachi earlier was that his uniform was closed up properly for once, as he stared at the bandages, gauze, still-healing stitches and brace that was only barely holding the left half of his ribcage together.
Apparently the campaign in the realm of the hollows had been harder on Kenpachi than he had let on.
“Restu said the blade that fucking thing had got within half an inch of my heart, and that almost wouldn’t have mattered with the amount of broken bones and other damage.” he explained, wheezing “I have the devil’s own luck somehow, but I’m not convinced that I’m actually immortal, so I needed to know-” he pushed the file folder closer to Byakuya and opened it, revealing legal documents.
“-If something happens to me, will you be Yachiru’s Godfather?” He asked,head bowed and his only mobile hand up like he was begging. “You’re her favorite person in this city after me, and now I’m sure you’ll take good care of her-”
"You are spectacuarly bad at diplomacy, Zaraki." Byakuya sighed as signature was already drying on the paper.
#Bleach#fanfic ask game#An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy#AEIWAM#ANGST#:)#kenpachi zaraki#byakuya kuchiki#yachiru kusajishi#long post
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HELLO HOW ARE YOU I JUST HAD LIKE A SCENARIO TYPE OF THING THAT RANDOMLY POPPED UP IN MY HEAD WHILE STUDYING
Okok so imagine mordern au with our favorite gingers coming home to us studying our ass off for a test but they dont wanna disturb us so they just plop their head on our lap T-T we take off one of our earbuds and use our free hand to like run our fingers through his hair!!!! The sound of the calculator clicking and the pencil/pen writing on the paper is so calming :( i wanna experience this GSHSGAJJS
Oay i should go back to studying HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT
-🐢anon
Slams fists on table YES!!
I hope your studying goes well!! Make sure to take breaks and look after yourself ok!!
Warnings: fluff, gn!reader, swearing, not proof-read.
Characters: Thoma, Childe.
Thoma~
It had been a long week of nothing but schoolwork, books, and textbooks.
You don’t even remember the last time you left your room at this point which in turn left you with a feeling of guilt at abandoning your sweetheart of a boyfriend for so long.
You knew he didn’t blame you for it or anything like that but you’d both be lying if you said you didn’t miss each other.
So imagine the joy when one afternoon. While hunched over in your chair reading the last of your notes, none other than Thoma himself knocked at your door!
“Sweetheart? Mind if I come in?”
Taking off your headphones you felt a involuntary grin spread across your face as you hurry over to your bedroom door opening it.
Without a second being wasted, Thoma immediately wrapped his arms around you pulling you into a tight embrace while peppering your face with soft kisses.
“I’ve missed you so much! I haven’t seen you in days and I got worried so I made you some (your favourite food)!”
This was a small habit you noticed he had.
If he thinks you’re upset either at him or just in general he’s always put extra effort into bringing you “peace offerings” which you had to admit; Was pretty fucking adorable!
“Oh, thoma. I’m so sorry I haven’t been free. I’ve had a bunch of studying to do and it’s still not finished. I’m sorry you had to come over for nothing”
Guilt washed over you as I can’t help but look down knowing even though you’d give up almost anything to spend time with him, you still had to prioritise your studies.
With a soft chuckle you felt his hand cup your cheek as he moved your head back up to face him with his warm smile.
“You don’t have to stop for me, sweetness. I just want to be around you. But if It’ll really be too distracting then I can come back another tim-“
“No! No, I don’t mind!”
Smiling warmly, you grab his hand pulling him over to your seat. Sitting down you give your lap a soft pat.
“You can chill here while I work!”
“W-what? Your lap?? But-”
“Shush. We’re dating, Thoma. Come on”
With slight hesitation and a face the same colour as his jacket, Thoma sits down on a chair he pulled closer to you and comfortably rests his head on your thighs.
The next few hours is spent with occasional discussions of what you’ve both been doing and the gaze of pure adoration he projects up at you when you’re not looking~
Childe~
Childe is well renowned for being a persistent little shit when he wants to be.
Which is why you’ve been warning him for a good month in advance that you have a test coming up that you need to study for, meaning you won’t be able to spend time with him.
You knew how he would be if you didn’t give him the attention he wanted.
Last time this happened, you were away on a school trip with Zhongli for a Petrology class.
It was barely three days before you ended up with several missed calls from Childe and a couple of messages threatening to come and personally find you just to make sure you were alright.
We don’t see red flags in this house.
So this is mind. Along with the fair warning to him about your upcoming occupied time, you were fairly confident that you’d be able to study in peace.
That being said. You were now situated in your room. Trying to wrap your head around how Childe had managed to worm his way into your house by sweet talking your parents.
Though even through your irritation, you can’t help but feel your heart warm a little with how excitedly he’s talking about his day while looking up at you from your lap with a giant grin.
You can’t resist the urge to run your fingers through his silky, ginger locks while he convinced you to “take a short break” which you both knew would last at least a few hours.
“You know know how annoying you are right, Ajax?”
“Aw, you wound me!”
Giving out a dramatic gasp, Childe clutches his chest deciding to flamboyantly act hurt by your words.
“Tch. You’re lucky I love you. You know that?”
“Heh~ you don’t have to remind me that I’m the luckiest guy alive. All I have to do is look at you to know that.”
You both ended up cuddling together while reading through your notes.
Not without Childe deciding to distract you whenever he wanted your attention by peppering your face and neck with smooches <3
It’s so hot oh my god I am becoming delusional
Also what’s this? A actual multi-fic without headcanons?? I’m so productive sometimes I scare myself passes out
#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin drabbles#genshin fluff#genshin headcanons#genshin impact scenarios#genshin scenarios#genshin boyfriend scenarios#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact headcanons#thoma genshin impact#Thoma#thoma x reader#thoma genshin#Childe#childe genshin impact#Childe genshin#childe x reader#Tartaglia#tartaglia genshin impact#tartaglia genshin#tartaglia x reader#thoma fluff#childe fluff#tartaglia fluff
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Dramaturgy
Ah yes, another commission to fund my gamer lifestyle from the incredibly lovely and patient @novcaine (thank you <;3)
Pairing: Vampire! Claude von Riegan x f!Reader
Synopsis: Trying to cope with the sudden death of your eccentric father, you fall down a rabbit hole of conspiracy, curses, and your very strange (and very tragic) family history, leading you to the small town of Old Derdriu—and its darkest secret.
Warnings: explicit smut, dub/noncon, kidnap, drugged sex
Tags: horror elements, urban fantasy, blood kink, very unhealthy romantic dynamic, overstimulation, "orgasms make your blood sweeter" trope
Word Count: 27.3k
Notes: I read a few horror stories in an attempt to get the tone right for this one which, as I'm sure you'll notice, heavily influenced me while writing. I really got caught up in lore crafting for this one as well, although the real fun was matching up the serious stuff with Claude's personality.
Act 1
“Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge,
Accursed, and in a cursed hour, he hies.”
I.
9th day of Verdant Moon
As long as I can remember, it’s been just us two. Me and dad against the world. Explorers, adventurers, wanderers. Rogues who chase the horizon to keep the sun close, that’s what he says. Said. There’s always been somewhere new to go, we never stayed anywhere long enough to cast too long of a shadow.
That’s, more or less, what I said over his ashes. Not that there was anyone around to hear it. A eulogy for nobody. But it was true. It is true.
Once upon a time (that’s what people say, right?), it must have been when we spent a summer in Arundel living out of a camper trailer because we didn’t have an air conditioner and spent most of the time outside, I asked him why. I don’t know why I remember it so well, but the air smelled like bug spray and pine and campfire smoke. Not ours though, we hardly ever have fires. Dad claims it’s ‘reasonable’ caution. Claimed.
That night, I don’t know what compelled me to ask, but I did. I asked, “Why do we move so much?”
He said to listen carefully, and I did, because he never sounded so serious. He said that we have bad luck. He said that it was like water, that it’d pool up around us like a puddle if we stayed still. And I asked why, of course, because that was a confusing thing for him to say.
And he said, and I’ll never ever forget this, “it’s in your blood.”
I think. Back then, the distinction between ‘your’ and ‘our’ was virtually nonexistent. And maybe, just maybe, my memory is faulty, and he didn’t switch from a collective pronoun to a singular one. I could be seeing ghosts that aren’t there, convincing myself of untruths to explain some of this. It could have been ‘your’, and it could have been ‘our’, but the point is the same no matter how I split it apart.
I’ve got bad luck. It’s in my blood. I try not to think about that because I don’t want it to be my fault somehow, I don’t even know what I would do if it was.
But I have to know.
II.
“Excuse me, are you Cheryll Bates?” you asked hopefully, standing at the side of a table where an older woman in a bright pink cardigan sat. Nose crinkled and mouth slightly open in the way only people of a certain age could mimic, she adjusted her blocky red glasses higher to peer up at you. The lenses magnified her small, dark eyes like a bug, not helping the discomfort you felt beneath her unwavering gaze as she scanned you from head to toe.
“You’re the Macbeth girl?” she finally asked. It took you a moment to realize what she meant. Macbeth, your mother’s last name—a name you only learned of, along with the woman herself, a month previous.
“Uhm, yeah, that’s me,” you said, hoping you didn’t sound as immediately unsettled as you felt. “May I sit?”
“Be a waste of time if you didn’t,” she said with a slight tinge of an accent, gesturing to the opposite seat with a plump hand. It was the wooden kind with a quilted cushion and long skirt, matching the borderline stifling cozy atmosphere of the cafe. The kind ripe with this musty, dusty, patchouli and tea leaf smell you associated with old women and antiques.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” you said as you sat down, anxiety making your movements awkward. Although Cheryll Bates wasn’t your blood relative, knowing you were related at all was surreal. Throughout your entire life, you’d never heard a single mention of family, of a mom or uncle or grandparents or even a stray cousin twice removed. You should have felt excited, and a part of you was, but you couldn’t stop messing with the cardboard sleeve on your tea, your eyes flitting around the small cafe every few seconds.
The answers that had gotten you this far had only served to unravel the very fabric of your existence, but you sought them all the same. You had to. Dad used to say that knowing was often uncomfortable, but ignorance was an agony like no other. He said all sorts of wise things, although you learned recently that the truth was not one of them.
Cheryll’s mouth worked like she was sucking on something, fine lines fanning out around her lips. The sluggishly swaying Tiffany lamp above cast her in an odd, unflattering light, her dark eyes that much more unnerving beneath the shadows.
“I liked your mama, she was a sweet girl. How much did Indy tell you about her?”
Indy, as in, your dad. The man who raised you, who cared for you. It was a nickname he had earned in school, apparently, after the titular adventurer and archeologist from an old movie.
“My dad never told me a single thing,” you said, trying not to sound too affected. If you thought about this all as some sort of research project, it was easier. If it wasn’t your life, you could view it dispassionately. So that’s what you tried to do. “I am… aware of what she did though.”
“It was a terrible thing,” Cheryll said gravely. “Of course she’d already left you in Enbarr with Indy at that point, came home crying that she had a baby girl, that she couldn’t trust herself to even hold you. Nobody had any idea of why she was so upset, we thought she had lost her mind. And then your daddy came to try and bring her back and… well. I can’t imagine how a person could do such a thing.”
Something within you twisted in sympathy of that statement. Even reading an abstract report made your stomach churn. Self immolation as a means of murder suicide wasn’t very common, mostly because it wasn’t practical. The report had no answers for the hows and the whys, only dry facts.
“Do you think it was postpartum depression?”
Again, Cheryll stared at you with that sour purse of her lips, almost like she was sizing you up. “It was that family of hers,” she said. “I’ll tell you straight, the Macbeths weren’t quite right. Not to say it was their fault, what happened to them, but I won’t glorify the dead, neither. I don’t believe in it. I never wanted my Liv to marry that boy, I knew only bad things would come of it.”
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“Didn’t you read about what happened to them?” Cheryll asked, an edge of indignation in her voice. “One after another…” She didn’t finish that statement, closing her eyes to visibly, even theatrically, shudder. Then again, having seen the string of death certificates, you didn’t exactly blame her. “I went to a psychic when Liv told me she was getting married to that Macbeth boy, and do you know what they said? Don’t let it happen. But I did. I let her marry into that family, and I’ve had to live with that every day since.”
“But none of it was on purpose, was it?” you asked cautiously. “The fire was an accident.”
“An accident,” Cheryll scoffed. “An ‘accident’ that happened right after the two of them had a baby girl. Just like the ‘accident’ that killed your mama’s baby sister. Do you think what happened with your mama was an accident?”
“I thought,” you said slowly, trying to remain calm, wiping that thought from your head and your palms on your jean-clad thighs, “that my mother committed suicide.”
“All that girl ever wanted was to be a mama. I’m telling you, there was something wrong with the Macbeths and she realized it too late. They were cursed, all of them and especially the girls.” Cheryll paused, contemplating her tea. “That’s why your parents met in the first place. Indy was doing research into the families involved with that tragedy in Derdriu and they were the only two he could find.” Cheryll took a sip, frowned, then continued in an even softer voice. “I s’pose your daddy must have been just as cursed as your mama, but I didn’t know him very well.”
“What tragedy?” you asked.
“The Rain of Blood, they call it.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” you said, getting out your diary to write it down.
“Reign, not rain,” Cheryll said, peering at your notepad. “Like a king, reign.”
You erased the word, rewriting it. “Is it a story, or something that happened?”
“It happened,” Cheryll said. “He and your mama always had a laugh about that, said it was why they had such rotten luck.”
“Rotten luck,” you repeated under your breath, more to yourself than to her.
“They thought it was real funny,” Cheryll said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Indy scorned all the ghost stories, he said that it was a matter of history waiting to be uncovered. It seems like he changed his tune as soon as he saw what happened to them.”
You thought about your dad who got itchy when you stayed in one place too long, looking over his shoulder like he was being chased by something you couldn’t see. You thought about the puddles of bad luck forming beneath your feet.
“He might have,” you said, not wanting to think too hard about that. “Do you remember what he said happened? In this Reign of Blood, I mean.”
Cheryll impatiently waved her hand. “You’d have to find a book or something, I couldn’t tell you other than that. The town burned down after. That’s why you’ve got Derdriu and Old Derdriu. They were connected before the incident, but Old Derdriu had to be completely rebuilt later.”
“So Old Derdriu is newer than Derdriu,” you said, unsure if you were understanding her correctly.
“Oh, except for the ruins, they kept those,” she said, her head tilting as she remembered. “The castle from way back when Leicester had Kings and Dukes and the like. But I couldn’t tell you any more than that, I’ve never been.”
You wrote that down too, tapping the eraser against your lip as you contemplated all of this new information. Cheryll was drinking her tea, obviously wanting to finish this up.
“Thank you so much for meeting with me, I really appreciate it,” you said. “Is there anything else you can think of about my dad or…?”
“I’m going to tell you what I wish I had told my daughter,” Cheryll said, looking at you head on. “Leave, now. Go spend the summer on a beach in Enbarr with other kids your age. There’s nothing for you here.”
You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, I… Yeah. I’ll think about it, thank you.”
III.
21st day of Verdant Moon
Being alone is worse than I thought it would be. Having to do everything by myself, figure out how to buy tickets and schedule stuff and all of that, it’s exhausting. But if I think about that too much I’ll cry and if I cry I won’t stop so all I can do is try to figure out what the hell any of this means. It has to mean something, doesn’t it? Or it’s all just insane nonsense and I’m the unfortunate product of a long line of nonsensical insanity, left to drift through this world with nothing but a payout from a trucking company and ghost stories from an old widow and some undiagnosed madness that was never treated because I had no idea I had a family history of mental illness because I was lied to, over and over again.
I can’t think like that.
Earlier, after I left that cafe, I remembered something. It’s weird to have all of these little memories popping up now, things that seemed so insignificant at the time. Maybe they are and I’m just trying to backfill information to explain all of the crazy things I’m learning about my dad and my family. I don’t know. I was just thinking about how during my first year of high school, my dad had a brief stint as a mechanic northwest in Elidure before working through the various little towns scattered around the old border between Adrestia and Faerghus as a construction worker—he even let me borrow the Indech branded pickup truck he’d gotten as a property manager on Lake Teutates to drive to my junior prom. The same truck where I got my first kiss playing spin the bottle with some people I was sort of friends with. I can’t even remember his name. It’s funny, almost. I remember that he tasted like the shitty booze we were all drinking and got way too slobbery and wore a purple tie and that I could see the Big Dipper right above his head but I don’t remember his name. Moving around so much, I guess, I never really bothered to remember things like that. After I graduated, dad and I left it all behind to spend a year on the Rhodos Coast. I liked it there. It was charming. But I always knew we wouldn’t be there long, dad got these twitchy sorts of tics when we stayed anywhere too long.
Anyway, the point is, I mentioned wanting to go east, to Gloucester or something because I heard they had mild summers, and he said no in a completely flat voice, nothing like I had ever heard from him. He didn’t even look me in the eye, just said no. We went to Gwenhwyvar pretty soon after that, and I didn’t bring it up again. Again, it could all be innocuous. It could all mean absolutely nothing. But I wonder. What if it did? What if there was a reason he wouldn’t take me here? A real, true reason that didn’t have to do with the horrible things that happened to my family? If he seriously thought I was cursed, why didn’t he tell me? What was he hiding? Well, I’ll never know that.
I looked up the Reign of Blood and barely found anything, it’s all some witchy weird occult stuff and ghost stories. The castle itself is called El Dorado, and it’s this sort of icon of superstition, but especially the Reign of Blood which is used as an explanation for why so many people disappeared in the fire. People debate if it happened more than they discuss what might have actually taken place. A part of me thinks that Cheryll was just messing with me, or lying. I don’t know why she would, but it makes more sense than the alternative. Who am I to believe that somehow I’m involved with this huge conspiracy? People who are hurting make up all sorts of weird things to try and come to terms with their pain, I’m just feeding into that.
I should leave. If dad didn’t think it was a good idea to be here, maybe it’s not. I should move on, that’s what he’d want, right? Keep on moving, never look back, chase the horizon.
I’ll leave. There’s no point in any of this, it’ll just keep hurting. I’ll leave. Tomorrow.
IV.
Before you left the city, destination TBD—but that was a lie, wasn’t it? You knew exactly where you were going, you just didn’t admit it because you knew it was stupid and the mark was the last person to admit they’d been conned—you stopped at your mother’s childhood home. It was a white farmhouse style place on the very edge of what used to be a suburban neighborhood but was now quickly giving into the urban sprawl. The Macbeths hadn’t lived there for over twenty years. You could see each of those years weathered onto the house. It was where your aunt died as a young girl. How? You weren’t so sure. Cheryll mentioned illness, but the official record only gave the date of her passing. That was a few years before your grandparents followed.
If you expected to feel something upon seeing the place, you were disappointed. Not even a twinge of disquiet that’d come with seeing a place possibly haunted by the dead.
You felt nothing other than a vague curiosity, a pang of regret, or melancholy. Never, not once in your entire life, had you lived in an actual house. The longest you had ever stayed in one place was Enbarr, where most of your earliest memories took place. And then there were a few years in Mozghuz where your dad taught history, and another few in a small Varley town where he worked as a consultant for a local museum. But those were apartments and townhouses and just you and him. No family, few friends. A life of transience, of existing ephemerally, always in a state of maybe or going or somewhere else.
A tingling sense of unease settled through you right then, although not because of the entirely benign house with which you were having an intense stare down. Why were you here? Not only at this long abandoned home, but in Leicester, in Edgaria. What were you searching for other than ghosts? Were you seriously going to believe in the superstition of an old woman who went to psychics and still grieved for her daughter? Bad things happened, sure, but that was true in a lot of families. That didn’t mean anything, you just wanted to assign meaning retroactively because of your pain.
And it did hurt. It always hurt. You lived in a state of in-between and those gaps were yours to fill all by yourself, overflowing with the pain you pretended you didn’t feel. Staring at the old house, you were acutely aware of the in-between. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine him standing next to you, filling up that empty space.
“Are you lost, Mr. Jones?” you would tease. “I doubt you’ll find the Lost Ark all the way out here.”
He would groan and ask who told you about that embarrassing nickname, and you would tell him that it was-
Well, you wouldn’t. Because if he hadn’t died, you would never know Mrs. Bates or that you weren’t actually his daughter or that his friends called him Indy.
The sound of rattling plastic on concrete startled you out of your increasingly dangerous thoughts. The next door neighbor was dragging in his trash bins. He was an older man, his face wrinkled and tan like leather, his posture a little hunched.
“Excuse me,” you called, trotting over to him. It was a long shot, but better than nothing.
“Huh?” he asked, looking at you with his thick, bushy eyebrows furrowed.
“Sorry to bother you,” you said. “I was just wondering how long you’ve lived here?”
“How long?” he clarified, his big eyebrows shooting up. “Huh. Gotta be fifty years, give or take.” He laughed, a dry, crinkly sound. “Too long, I say.”
“Did you know the family that lived here about twenty-five or so years ago?” you asked, gesturing to the big white house. “The Macbeths.”
As soon as you said the name, he tensed up, his friendly demeanor freezing. “Why do you want to know?”
You raised your hands innocently, surprised by the instant reaction. “I’m their… their granddaughter,” you told him. “I don’t mean to trouble you at all, I’m only curious.”
His cheeks puffed before he let out a big breath, that defensive posture shifting. “I hate to say that I can’t tell you much. They were always a real private family, kept to themselves mostly. It caused one heck of a scandal, the way everything ended. Don’t s’pose it sat right with anyone, not after-” He cut himself off, thin lips drawing inwards. “No, it’s not my business.”
“Please, I just want to know,” you said, still placating. “Anything you can tell me, I’d appreciate.”
He nodded, but his eyes were still cautious. “I’ll tell you this, the missus was very unwell,” he said. “When the youngest daughter died, people spread all kinds of nasty rumors about her involvement. Completely outrageous, what they said. But towards the end, she wasn’t quite right in the head, always talking about some curse. It was no thing ‘sides the agony of a grieving parent, but people took it as an admission of guilt.”
“It was all an accident though, wasn’t it?” you asked. “Nobody was at fault.”
“Exactly. If you want my honest opinion, the family had bad luck. There’s nothing more to be said, what with all those little ‘uns involved.”
Bad luck. The sun beat down on your skin, sweat beading up on your spine and hairline, but you shivered, casting a sidelong glance at the house as if it was somehow watching you, as if talking about these things was dangerous in any way, as if there was a looming manifestation of a bad luck over your shoulder, drooling in anticipation of getting you now that you were the last Macbeth left.
“I see,” you said, forcing a smile for the man. “Thank you so much for your time and honesty, I really appreciate it.”
“Of course, have a good day, miss.”
Act 2
“Who now is plotting how he may seduce Thee also from obedience, that with him, Bereav’d of happiness, thou may’st partake His punishment, eternal misery”
I.
Essar, Hanneman, “Final Look at El Dorado.”
Excerpt from National Geographic, Vol. 162
September, 1991
“It was with great honor that I accepted the final invitation to visit El Dorado, the famed yet forgotten home of Leicester’s Duke, and eventual king, Claude von Riegan. The massive, not to mention opulent, castle sits in the cradle between Riegan and Albrecht, kept safe by the steep basalt wall to the south and acres of privately owned forest. For all of its grandeur and majesty, these gilded halls hide dark secrets, secrets that may never be truly known. Historians quibble over the voracity surrounding the chilling Reign of Blood. Was it, as many say, a tragic plague sweeping the population? Could it have been a cult formed following a period of famine? Or, as some fear, does this golden fortress hide a terrifying past of human sacrifice and Faustian bargains? These secrets are what has led to the permanent closure of El Dorado and…
“…For my tour, and indeed, the last ever tour of El Dorado, I was given a set of very specific instructions for the sake of my safety and the conservation of the historic site. The first demanded I stay close to my guide. The second instructed me to only enter rooms filled with natural sunlight. This, I was told, was the surest method of determining which rooms were safe. Truly, health concerns are as much a part of the closure as anything else, it is simply too risky to maintain. I was…
“...Despite the stories of prowling monsters and dangerous curses, nothing came of the tour, save for these beautiful photos I was able to capture in the hopes of memorializing what was once a golden beacon of wealth, nobility, and power. As of today, El Dorado is entirely inaccessible. Trespassers will not only be gambling with their own safety should they wish to enter, they also risk severe jail time and steep fines. As I…”
II.
The Sagittarius Express left Edgaria at nine the morning, and it would arrive in Derdriu around eight that night. Named after the starry archer, it was a fairly straight shot connecting the two major cities. It would be shorter in a car, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get in one of those. After spending the night in Derdriu proper, you would take the gondola up to Old Derdriu.
Settled into your compartment with only two other people—and one of them had been passed out cold ever since you boarded—you continued your research. In general, you were poorly versed in Leicester history. You knew there had been something going on with one of their dukes wresting power away from the nobles to consolidate power and drive out the domineering Church of Seiros, going so far as to annex some of Faerghus’ land, but not necessarily any details beyond that.
When you looked into the Reign of Blood and Old Derdriu, the castle El Dorado showed as the first result. It was the only structure that remained when the rest of Old Derdriu was razed to the ground. Those were the ruins Cheryll mentioned, the home of Claude von Riegan, duke turned king. Information about the event was sparse. Even when you did find information about El Dorado or the Reign of Blood, to say there was discourse surrounding it was an understatement. And that was assuming you could find historical facts rather than ghost stories. None of this was helped by the fact that, a hundred or so years before the Reign of Blood, King Claude von Riegan mysteriously disappeared. Such a tantalizing yet inexplicable vanishing act gave rise to stories about his occult dealings. Some people said he was cursed by the goddess Sothis for his vendetta against the Church of Seiros. Since El Dorado was his home, his story muddied the waters when it came to researching the Reign of Blood.
As the train pulled out of the station, you pulled up one of the more promising sources you had found: a Xerox of an old Life magazine article penned by some old guy named Hanneman Essar. The quality was terrible, compressed and squeezed dry of detail, but looking at the photos of the once grand castle made you more certain than ever that it was important. Something about the place drew you in, even as you glanced over your shoulder for the cold claws of whatever bad luck your father warned you of. There was no point in asking yourself why, or if you should or shouldn’t—you already knew you shouldn’t—because your course was set in stone. Carved out long before you arrived in Leicester.
Those sorts of thoughts, the ones that toyed with the idea of fate or destiny, were entertained in the back of your head, the place where you pushed every other unpleasant or undesirable or stupid thought.
It was better to focus on facts.
“Are you interested in El Dorado, young lady?” the man sitting next to you asked. You slowly lowered your tablet, looking up at the speaker. A mustached blond man with blue eyes, his eyebrow quirked curiously. “It’s rare to see someone your age taking an interest in history.”
That bristled you a bit, both his pompous tone and the implication. Even when your father worked other jobs, his fascination with history never waned, and it was the only area of your education that never faltered from constantly moving schools.
“It’s an interesting place, don’t you think?” you asked in a measured voice.
“Yes, it most certainly is,” he agreed. “A place most ripe with curiosity and fiction, a paradise for the easily fooled tourists they usher in.”
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“I should think my meaning is clear. The people in Old Derdriu spread ridiculous stories about El Dorado to stimulate their tourism, all for a place that they have shut off to the public,” he said. “As for the source of my interest, I am Acheron Phlegethon. I don’t doubt you’ve heard of me. I’ve debunked several famous hoaxes across Fodlan, including the fiction of Shambhala’s subterranean civilization. Now I have set my sights upon the legendary vampires of El Dorado.”
“Vampires?” you asked, your eyes widening.
Acheron squinted at you suspiciously. “I thought you said you had done your research.”
“I only just started,” you said, shrugging in an attempt to hide your ignorance. “I guess that explains why it’s called the Reign of Blood.”
“Bah, a fiction,” Acheron said, waving his hand. “There is no evidence of the cult they claim existed, let alone of the vampire they insist was the leader. Tell me, if the town or its people were truly cursed, why did retribution stop with a single fire that could easily be attributed to a natural cause? The deaths are the same, nothing more than a result of the violent beasts that are known to prowl that area. As I said, they sell these stories to bring tourists into their town. It really is the most insidious scheme, one that I will not tolerate. My next book will be the most comprehensive look at this scam to date, it’s sure to be a hit.”
“How do you know?” you asked. “Do you have any evidence that it’s a lie?”
“Evidence?” he asked, baffled. “Why, common sense. There is no such thing as vampires or curses, need I any better evidence than that?”
“Yes.”
Acheron’s eyes narrowed further, his mustache twitching. “It seems you are too young to be sensible. I recommend you continue to study historical facts instead of believing in superstitious bunk.” He paused, his head tilting. “If you give me your email address, I can add you to the preorder list for my next book. I’ve no doubt that you would find it most edifying.”
“No, thank you,” you told him.
“Hm, very well. I shan’t disturb you further,” Acheron said, pulling a pillow around his neck and a set of headphones from his bag. “Oh, and good luck with your research, young lady.”
“Thanks, you too,” you told him, although he was already pulling on an eye mask and probably couldn’t hear you.
You turned away from the man to look out the window, your thoughts whirling. If you believed that your family could be cursed, couldn’t you also believe in vampires? The logical side of your brain said no, emphatically rejecting the notion because it was ridiculous. Utterly insane.
Something in your gut said otherwise. The tight lead ball of anxiety burning in your stomach, the thing drawing you towards Old Derdriu despite everything that screamed at you to stay away. You looked again at the distorted photos of El Dorado, trying to imagine it in its prime. It must have been a sight to behold, unlike anything you had ever seen before.
It didn’t matter what you did or did not believe. It was just like you told Acheron, you needed evidence first. Rubbing a hand over your face, you returned to your reading.
III.
24th day of Verdant Moon
I had a dream last night. Sometimes I get these wicked nightmares which I guess makes sense considering what happened but last night it wasn’t a nightmare which almost makes it worse because when I woke up crying, it wasn’t just because I was alone, but because I feel so alone that it hurts, it hurts bad. People aren’t made to be alone. I don’t know how to be anything else than a set, a pair. It was always just me and him and now that he’s gone I have a gaping hole in my chest and I think that if I chase down answers it’ll mean something but I know it won’t, I’ll wake up just as alone as I did this morning.
My brain conjured this idea of a man just to taunt me, I think. A beautiful man who looked at me like he knew me, and I knew him even though I don’t. I woke up the second before our hands touched and just like that we (we, us) were out in the nothing of Fodlan’s great empty flatlands and there was a high wind warning and a great big semi-truck with Ernest Shipping painted on the side and a “rate my driving” sticker on the back. And then there were squealing tires and creaking metal and crunching glass and so much noise from all sides as the world closed in around me, the cab of dad’s vintage SUV giving way to make room for something else crudely forcing itself through. The wind was screaming, and so was I. But dad wasn’t, he didn’t make any noise as his body got crushed. Dead on impact, the first responders said. And yet, after I wriggled out of the mangled mess of what must have been a car—moments before it caught fire—I was relatively unharmed. A miracle, they said. Lucky, they told me. If dad hadn’t swerved the way he did, it would have been me who died. And it’s not even like I’m traumatized, right? I can write about this all I want, I told it to the police and the lawyer and everyone about it and it’s all fine, I’m perfectly fine, I’m well adjusted and alone and accursed, and I want to scream and be angry and cry until I’m all dried up but nothing, nothing is going to make it stop, all I can do is chase down this fantasy and shove all of this down because if this is what sanity feels like, I don’t want to be crazy.
In that dream, the man I saw had beautiful eyes. Blue green, like a sea breeze or something else equally poetic and reckless, surrounded by these thick, dark eyelashes. Now that I’m awake, all I can do is ascribe meaning to the meaningless, but it was like he was inviting me to him. I’ll be in Old Derdriu tomorrow and I’m probably just losing it but I keep thinking that it's where I need to be.
IV.
Old Derdriu was more or less what you expected. Small, quaint, and beautiful. It had the unique mixture of mountainous charm and oceanic appeal, giving the fresh air a green, salty weight. You spent the first day getting a measure of the place, glad for the mild weather. There was some displeasure when you realized one Mr. Phlegethon had checked into a room right next door to your own the day before—he even attempted to catch you in another conversation before you excused yourself—but you were quickly absorbed into your preliminary attempts at researching the small town.
Although all of it was only a prelude to, or maybe a distraction from, what you truly wanted. After lunch, you rented a pretty metallic bicycle at a place on main street. It fit the scenery, looking a little dated with its tall handlebars and a basket. An uncomfortable reference considering why you were here. All the same, hi-yo silver away, you left town to follow the northeast highway as per the directions on the map you bought earlier. Unfortunately, you quickly realized what you had already known to be true. El Dorado was exactly as inaccessible as Mr. Hanneman explained in his old article. The dirt road turn off was gated and locked, the rusty fence adorned with a large, angry “PRIVATE PROPERTY” sign. Even the famous golden tower could not be seen through the overwhelming barricade of trees.
Standing there on the empty road, the bike propped between your legs and dust and the thick scent of pine filling your lungs, unease worked through you. It came upon you slowly, and then all at once. The world was telling you to leave. Winds quieted, birds hushed, even the sunlight dimmed a shade. But something else beckoned you, calling out so vividly you felt yourself lurch forward a step, the bicycle wheels turning a notch. A wild and insane part of your mind was prepared to abandon it right there and break past the intimidating tree line, damn the consequences or legality. You even thought you could probably find El Dorado yourself, no matter how deeply it was buried, that its call would lead you directly to it. Blood following blood, an innate tracker buried in your DNA that had gotten you this far.
To spite the heavy silence, you laughed at how ridiculous that thought was. A wild, uncomfortable laugh. The trees swallowed the sound whole.
Turning around, you rode back into town. Only a part of you truly understood the choice you made while standing there in the stillness of the forest, although you knew absolutely that it was the only possible ending.
V.
28th day of Verdant Moon
I looked it up. People can create false memories, it’s a symptom of trauma or mental illness, our brains are suggestable and weak and we just make stuff up by mixing real things with other information. Other information, like all of this weird shit I’ve been reading about El Dorado and Old Derdriu and the original Lady Macbeth and everything. Witch, wiccan, whatever. Vampires aren’t enough, curses aren’t enough, why not just add in a witch? Why the hell not.
The dreams I’ve been having, I think it’s something like that. Constructed memories of El Dorado and that same guy, the one with the pretty eyes. It’s weird though, maybe normal, they’re not bad dreams. Just about the castle, and him. It’s a break from feeling like I’m going to suffocate on all of this. They don’t feel real, exactly, just…
I don’t know, there’s no point in dwelling on it, I’m probably doing more damage by thinking about it so hard because then I just remember how alone I am and start tearing up and it’s so stupid. This journal is going to be used as a case study one day. People go wild for crazy women, right? There’s a whole cast of them flowing through my veins.
VI.
Acheron’s premise that the people in Old Derdriu hoped to make money off of the notoriety of their past was ridiculous. Questions regarding El Dorado were answered bluntly, but icily. Most people seemed like they wanted nothing to do with the dark history, especially not to make a profit off of it. You could say that you understood and respected it, but your frustration only mounted the more you realized how inaccessible the truth was. Your entire life had been built on convenient ignorance of unsavory history, and here you were.
Again.
That was fine. Your dad faced all sorts of difficulty in his historical research, you remembered him complaining about it on more than one occasion. So you did the thing that wasn’t committing felony trespass and went to the library to gather information. Research.
The library in Old Derdriu was easy to track down, within a short ride from the inn. What you didn’t expect was what you would find. In the front, it was fairly typical. The reading area and magazine shelves and receptionist desk, even a few computers along the wall. But, behind the front desk was what you could only describe as a tower of bookshelves. The unconventional arrangement had you craning your neck to look up, shocked at how the shelves expanded upwards for what looked like three floors with twisting stairs and platforms providing access to the collection. Every place that could store a book, had a book. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how they were organized.
A lone girl sat behind the desk in front of the tower of books, the only other person in the front. Her name plate read Flayn, and she twirled one of her long curls around her finger as she idly flipped through a magazine. When you approached, she looked up with a big smile.
“Hello!”
“This is… the library?” you asked.
“Yes, it is. Welcome,” Flayn responded sweetly. “If you need assistance finding anything, I would be more than happy to help.”
“I would really appreciate that,” you said, tearing your eyes from the tower of books to look at her directly. “I’m looking for books about the history of this town, specifically El Dorado. I’m not particular, whatever seems the most informative.”
She blinked, her smile lapsing somewhat. “Of course,” she finally said, standing up. “If you take a seat at a table over there, I will see what I can find.”
“Thank you so much,” you said with a nod. Slowly, admiring the scope of the library, you walked over to one of the tables and sat down. While you waited, you pulled out your tablet to continue flipping through websites that had mention of El Dorado. This one was old, the kind with a black background and dark red cursive font. There was very little to actually be learned, it was a ghost story that told a risque tale of blood sacrifices and a sex cult.
It was all ridiculous, of course, but one line gave you trouble, made your stomach turn uneasily.
Why was it fire? The author wrote. Not, I think, to rid the town of some undead threat. After all, the vampire was hiding away in El Dorado. No, they chose fire to burn the witches.
“Excuse me,” somebody said, calling your attention away from the unsettling words and up to the narrowed green eyes of an older man.
“Yes?” you asked, trying not to look guilty beneath his piercing glare. You hadn’t done anything, but something about him made you feel as if you had, you just didn’t know what it was yet.
“From your request, I can only assume you are researching El Dorado,” he said, his voice as stiff and stony as his demeanor.
“I am.”
“And what, may I ask, is your reason for conducting such research?”
You floundered for a moment, caught off guard and confused. Finally, you shook your head and shrugged. “Curiosity, I guess,” you said.
“Are you in any way associated with a man who calls himself Acheron Phlegethon?”
“What?” you asked, confusion replacing the discomfort. “No, not at all.”
“Are you sure?” he pushed.
“Well, I’ve met him. He tried to sell me his books,” you said, frowning.
“Are you sure that’s all?”
You realized pretty quickly what this man was actually asking, what he wanted to hear. “I’m here for… personal reasons,” you explained. “This place has meaning to me. Er, it had meaning to… someone very important to me.”
“I see,” the man said. You could practically see the calculations going on behind his stare, your words reduced down to ones and zeroes as he analyzed them.
“Is that okay?” you asked.
“Yes, of course. I would never withhold knowledge from the genuinely curious. I suggest you start with this one,” he told you, setting down a large book bound in green. “It offers the most comprehensive history of Old Derdriu. These,” he set down two more books, “are supplementary material. While I cannot vouch for their factual integrity, they provide further insight as to what researchers have discovered about Old Derdriu.”
“Thank you,” you said, pulling the books towards yourself, almost afraid he would take them away. There was that feeling, that possessive need. A craving, even.
His lips thinned out as he considered you, his icy expression locked in place. “I ask that you do not cause any trouble while you’re here. The people who live here have suffered enough harassment.”
“I understand, honestly,” you said emphatically, although his warning made your stomach clench and you weren’t lying, but was it really the truth that you weren’t going to ‘cause trouble’? Did you mean that? Could you?
VII.
[The following text are segments taken from letters found in the attic of a Derdriu home with other antiques. Forensic analysis can date them as being contemporaneous with the burning of Old Derdriu, however much of the contents have suffered such severe decay that entire sentences and paragraphs are illegible. Due to this, it is impossible to determine the author or glean any further context. Notes have been added in an attempt to clarify certain points, but without support, all researchers can offer is speculation.]
“My dear sister...discovery, but I fear I will not…seems that my death is inevitable, all I can do is…she offered me a chance, a slim hope that is buried beneath the earth…”
“...sister… bad news… if something good came of it, does that make it right?... better left buried lest we… believe in such stories?... truly be Claude? [this is possibly a reference to Claude von Riegan. The mysterious circumstances surrounding his disappearance have long been a point of interest for those interested in the occult—See page 127 for further information]... put my trust in legend, or… risk my soul for… shall sleep, tomorrow we will return to the site and search for…”
“…I know nothing of the truth, it is obscured by… can trust, she claims… of the Agarthans [The “Agarthans'' are another popular yet unproven occult group based upon an ancient civilization. Artifacts supposedly associated with them were found in El Dorado]... and Lady Macbeth hopes to… blood and soul, I…”
“...forgive me… of my selfishness and hubris. I am frightened… a blight upon us… she will suffer the curse of Seiros [The goddess of the Church of Seiros, who has historically been used as an occult figure following the purge of faith from Liecester]... and yet it is too late…”
“He is awake. The Reign of Blood has begun.”
[This line is one of the most contested within these letters. Since it is on its own page, with this single preserved sentence written in a shaky hand, there are those who argue it was included in order to bolster the cult and supernatural narrative surrounding El Dorado and the burning of Old Derdriu. If these letters are accurate, it is the last communication documented from any of the 257 people who disappeared, likely perished in the fire that reduced the town to ash.]
VIII.
“Hold on a moment, young lady,” a familiar voice called. You paused, turning to face Acheron as he hurried down the hall, stopping you from entering your room.
“Yes?” you asked, more than a little suspicious. With the key in the lock to your room, at least you had a swift method of escape.
Acheron came to a stop, dramatically swiping at his shiny forehead. “I have a proposition for you.”
Your jaw dropped a little at the blunt statement. “I-I don’t think-”
“We have the same goal here, no?” Acheron asked, steamrolling over your obvious conclusion without the slightest shred of self awareness. “To discover the truth behind the infamous El Dorado. And yet we are waylaid by these pesky townsfolk at every turn. I have had enough of it, I say. It’s time to take action.”
“What do you mean?” you asked hesitantly.
He looked around the empty hallway before leaning forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I have it on good authority that the castle’s security is not as good as they would have us believe. If one knows how to circumvent it, that is.”
You considered him for a long moment, chewing on your lip and refusing to openly indulge your immediate excitement. “What are you saying?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Acheron asked. “I would see the famed El Dorado for myself.”
“It’s dangerous to go inside, people get sick,” you said.
“Bah. The stories about any sort of lingering sickness within its walls are wildly exaggerated. The local youths brag about having visited as a rite of passage. If those scamps can make it in and out, I see no reason to believe I should be capable of anything less. I, of course, am extending the offer to you only out of courtesy. You hunger for the truth as desperately as I, do you not?”
You considered him for a long moment, wondering if this was some sort of setup.
“When do you intend to go?” you finally asked.
“Tomorrow night,” Acheron told you. “I would quit this dismal town as quickly as possible. All I need is good footage and photographs of the inside.”
“Do you have the right gear?”
“Gear?” he asked, frowning.
Of course it would have been too much to think that a man like him would think this through. “Yes, gear. Flashlights, a map, the right kind of clothes—”
“Is all that really necessary?” he asked, cutting you off.
“Have you ever done something like this?” you asked, omitting the fact that you hadn’t. But, unlike Acheron, you had common sense and some experience with night hiking. “You can’t just rush in unprepared, you’ll get hurt.”
“Hm.” Acheron’s mustache twitched and you could tell he was thinking up some way to argue with you. But, eventually, reason won out. “Very well, I shall procure whatever is necessary tomorrow.”
“If you buy this stuff town, they’ll know what you’re planning.”
Acheron’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then I shall make a trip into Derdriu and return in the evening, we can meet at the road leading to El Dorado upon my return.”
You wanted to argue, to deny your interest on the basis of not wanting to break the law. The risk factor was far too high, you were a fool to go along with it.
“I found a book today that has the plans for the inside, I’ll find a way to make a copy of them,” you said, anxiety and anticipation going wild in your gut because you knew how wrong this was, but you also knew that it was what was bound to happen from the start, something you couldn’t change or control. “Let me give you money, I’ll make a list of what we’ll need.”
Act 3
"The monstrous sight
Strook them with horror backward but far worse
Urged them behind: headlong themselves they threw
Down from the verge of Heav'n"
I.
31st day of Verdant Moon
This will only end in the hallowed halls of El Dorado, an owed price for the folly of Lady Macbeth, damning her bloodline, bringing a curse to us all.
Yeah. Like this is some sort of fucking movie or something. I wonder if insanity is a legal defense for criminal trespass. I don’t think I’m insane, but isn’t that what crazy people all say? Yes officer, I only broke into this blocked off historical site because I had a dream where a beautiful man told me to. Also, incidentally, I had to figure out if I’m cursed or not so I can decide if I’m the cause of my dad’s death. Oh, and you might be interested to know that my great great great great whatever grandmother was a witch and vampires might be real.
It’s foolproof.
II.
Acheron was right that sneaking into El Dorado was easy. Too easy. Disturbingly easy. After you got past the gate, there was only a security booth to creep past which should have forced you into the view of security cameras, but a convenient hole in the fence circumvented that obstacle. If you were even slightly more worried about getting caught, or maybe slightly less desperate to see inside, you would have given up right then and there on the grounds that breaking and entering shouldn’t have been as simple as ducking through some trees and making a tense, but relatively short, trek through the woods.
All sense left you when you broke the clearing into what used to be the grand lawn of El Dorado, the vague threat of getting caught by angry landowners falling far to the wayside as you stood in front of the grand majesty of King Claude von Riegan’s personal castle, staring down the centuries old castle with equal parts trepidation and excitement.
Other than the cicadas and frogs and slight wind, the night was very quiet. Acheron fiddled with his camera, getting ready to take footage of the inside. All you had to potentially take photos with was your phone, although you weren’t inclined to gather evidence of your crime. It was enough to watch, to look, to commit this sight to memory.
And what a sight it was. Nothing like you had ever seen, except in dreams that were not dreams but you didn’t dare call memories. Overgrown with thick, possessive greenery and fallen into a state of dull disrepair, the castle was truly a breathtaking spectacle, the years of ruin only added to the sense of tragic mystery. It was nothing like the stout fortresses of the west, or the elaborate Imperial complexes in the south. Terrible with its jagged maw of an entrance, the intimidating golden tower looming above. Beautiful, the result of long lost artistry. Foreboding and alluring.
No longer were you looking over your shoulder out of paranoia, but staring down each window and shadow of the castle’s aged, inscrutable countenance for some sign of the life you could practically feel thrumming from within. But, even suffering from the hyperactive state of distress, you knew you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t interest or curiosity, it was a fixation, an urge, a compulsion.
You had to go inside.
You had to get away.
“Wait, before I forget-” You pulled out the set of walkie talkies you had brought. They were the ones you and your dad used when you went hiking. You didn’t want to think of that. “Testing, testing, one two three.” Your voice, crinkling through the static, exited the other walkie talkie.
“What is that?” Acheron asked, raising a thin eyebrow.
“Walkie talkies,” you said, handing him the second. “In case we get separated somehow. There’s no cell service out here.”
“Do you intend on making a private excursion?” he asked.
“No, but…” you looked at El Dorado, uneasiness once again sinking through your gut. It was as if the castle itself was watching you, the eyeless windows winking in the moonlight. “Just in case.”
“Hm.” Acheron clipped the walkie talkie onto his belt, and so you did you. It was too bulky for your little sling bag. “Well then, after you.”
“What?”
“You have had more time to familiarize yourself with the layout, it’s only natural that you should lead the way.”
You wondered if Acheron was scared. It was difficult to tell if he was any more pale than usual, and he wore the same blustery confidence as usual. It didn’t matter. If he got scared and bolted, you would do this alone. You were getting used to that, right?
“Okay,” you said. You weren’t scared. Maybe you felt a little nervous. But you weren’t scared.
Staying vigilant for any strange movement or sounds, you ascended the cracked, overgrown steps, telling yourself over and over that you were not afraid. There were no such things as vampires, ghosts, or curses. And if there were, you would know for yourself. Answers. You would get answers.
The large door was mostly intact, but it was stuck in a perpetual state of half-open. Almost like an invitation. A horror cliche. There was a pinch in your bladder and your heart thudded too heavily in your chest and the animal part of your brain didn’t want to breach the shadows and go inside. You were propelled not of your own free will, but of some existential force that tugged you forward. Step by step by step until you were inside the breezeway, the central entrance hall of El Dorado.
The general plan that the two of you had discussed before sneaking into the private estate was to get into the Golden Hall, the three story vaulted ballroom off of the northern wing. It had been the jewel of the gilded paradise of El Dorado, but nobody had seen it for decades because of the infection that supposedly filled the inside of the castle. The path there would take you through the breezeway, the atrium, the courtyard, the pleasure plaza, and the dining room. Not into the heart of El Dorado, but deep into its rotted guts.
A very quiet, but incredibly persistent, part of your mind pushed you there with the hushed notion that it was where your dreams took place. You had to confirm for yourself that it was completely different in real life, that your mind was making things up. Even if you gleaned no further insight from this misguided exertion, settling that fact would go a long way in convincing you once and for all that you weren’t cursed, just a little mad. At least one of those problems could be solved with medication.
Broken glass littered the breezeway, hidden like little jewels within piles of leaves and refuse and the broken bits of castle that had wilted to the ground. You tried to imagine El Dorado’s beauty in its prime, shining gold and inviting, sunshine filtering in through the dome ceiling and high windows, wind playfully teasing the long curtains. But you couldn’t, it was too dark. Darker than you might have thought, darker than the thickest section of the woods, so dark that the places outside of the range of your ThruNite seemed to be physically encroaching shadows rather than void of light.
Hanneman had been told to only go into rooms where the light touched, that it was the only way to stay safe, but that didn’t seem factually sound, did it? Surely that wasn’t the most accurate method of determining which areas were safe. The only thing that actually feared sunlight, if myths and legends were to be believed, were vampires. There was no sunlight now, and you doubted vampires feared LED’s.
Gripping your light in a sweaty fist, you forced yourself forward, the ground crunching beneath your boots. The terrible, heavy dread got worse with each step. It sat like a weight right behind your sternum, beating behind your eye. The other part of the feeling, the insidious part, was the familiarity.
Bad. Bad. Bad.
You wanted to explain the feeling as nothing more than animalistic paranoia and some malignant fear of the dark, but it made the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, your breathing picking up. All across the breezeway—throughout most of the castle, really—balconies lined the halls and rooms. You couldn’t see what was above, there was no light coming in, not even diffused moonlight. Somebody could have been watching from above and you’d never know.
Keep going. It was fine. Everything was fine.
“I told you that this place was safe,” Acheron said, startling you. “If it weren’t, this level of upkeep would be impossible. I have little doubt that they hire people to ensure the roof doesn’t cave in for occasions just like this.”
You exhaled, looking around with that thought in mind. He had a point, the place did seem a little too well maintained for the number of years that had passed. Then again, maybe it was just good construction. Or maybe something that still lived here. Something ancient, something immortal.
The two of you left the breezeway, entering the main atrium hall. Hanneman had featured many many photos of this room in his article; he had been fascinated by the intricately carved stonework. It was too dark to see much of that now. In fact, you very badly wanted to get out of the atrium as soon as you entered it because of how unnervingly dark it was. Two tiers of balcony circled around the ground floor, shadows lurking ominously right behind what was left of the railing. Every little sound echoed, rippling through the motionless air. High above, a chandelier caught the shine of your flashlights, moving with some breeze you couldn’t feel.
Something made a sound, a scuffling. To your right, on the stairs. You flicked your flashlight to it quickly, your hands shaking with adrenaline.
“Did you hear that?” you asked breathlessly, nervously holding the light on the steps as if to keep them from moving. But there was nothing, just the large stone staircase and decaying walls and long-abandoned artistry memorialized and forgotten in some old Life magazine article.
“Hear what?” Acheron asked.
You exhaled harshly, looking away from the empty stairs and kicking yourself for being so jumpy. It could just be a stray animal. That’s what you told yourself. Rats, racoons, birds, any number of things could have made El Dorado their new home.
“Nothing.”
There was some relief when you entered the courtyard, even if the scent of overbearing foliage and vivid green rot was nearly suffocating. At least there was more air, and you could see the stars twinkling above. Full, or almost full, the moon draped the open space in silvery light. Ignoring the overgrown shrubbery, flowers, and grass, you looked around at the balconies wrapping around the second floor. The construction of El Dorado was almost made for someone wanting to spy on guests. Or intruders. Acheron was talking to the camera but you weren’t really listening, too busy focusing to hear any sign of movement, trying to find what was making you so uneasy.
Vampires in El Dorado. Lurking in the dark, in the moonlight, waiting for ignorant fools to wander in. A missing king, a goddess’s curse, a burning witch. The Reign of Blood. You could almost smell it, the tangy iron of blood and the thick smoke of a town burning to the ground.
“Are you coming?” Acheron called.
You shook your head in an attempt to cast out those thoughts before scurrying to catch up, passing the large stone fountain that had once been the featured centerpiece of the courtyard before the ripe overgrowth took over. The standout piece was a large, intricately carved deer. Once, it must have been a magnificent beast, but now its head was cracked in half, the prongs of one set of antlers sticking out of a murky film covering the stagnant water settled in the basin. Something dark grew over the broken statue, starting on its fragmented head and dripping down to give the gruesome illusion of blood. It watched you pass with the remaining stone eye, forever frozen in a proud, alert stance.
A breeze trembled throughout the courtyard. The castle taking in a breath. You shivered, pointedly forcing your gaze forward.
Acheron lagged behind to force you to take the lead under the pretense of messing with his camera, leaving you to enter the so-called pleasure plaza first. Careful to not get caught by the jagged row of broken glass and wooden teeth attempting to bar your entrance, you stepped into the decaying mouth of El Dorado’s recreation wing. This was the place where Leicester’s elite once came to enjoy themselves, a yawning space that time had seen to shambles. Because of the many doorways and hiding spots, this room was even more unnerving than the atrium. You would have to cross it to get where you needed to go.
If you were being entirely honest, you weren’t sure you had any desire to see the Golden Hall anymore. Rather, you weren’t sure it was worth the stress of getting there. Considering the unreasonable fear you felt going through areas you knew to be safe, you worried what you might find in a place nobody had seen for so long, worried about what secrets were better left to die. And that pulsing, pounding, beating of familiarity just kept getting worse, harder, closer. Louder.
You needed to get out.
You needed to know.
Inhaling the sweet scent of rot and age, you continued onward, your footsteps hollow against the sinking floor. Each sweep of your flashlight caused the shadows to move, to crawl away from you as if to hide. It hit each object without any subtlety, erasing details and making the darkness that much darker.
You forced yourself to carry on. Carefully, cautiously, unafraid. That’s what you kept telling yourself. Show no fear and all that. Although, that began with the presumption that there was something around to see your fear.
Your skin erupted in painful prickling chills almost as soon as that thought came to you. And then, in the same moment or before or after or so close you couldn’t tell the difference, you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. You flashed your light quickly around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of a rat or some other disgusting but inoffensive animal to reassure yourself that you were safe because you still had hope that this was all innocent, that you were the crazy one for believing in ridiculous stories of the supernatural.
Something retreated behind the doorway.
Your stomach sank with freezing cold ice and panic. That was no rat.
A person? It certainly seemed human sized. Those were footsteps too, weren’t they? Disguised beneath the sound of your own? And if it were somebody with authority, somebody who wanted you to leave because you were trespassing, they wouldn’t be lurking around watching you. So that meant it was somebody doing the same thing that you were. But, somehow, you didn’t feel as if it were another trespassing explorer. You felt it in your gut.
“Acheron, hold on,” you said quietly, stopping.
“Yes? What is it?” he asked loudly. Too loud, bumbling around with his footsteps echoing against the walls as he turned to face you. You winced, holding up a hand to shade your eyes from the glare of his light.
“We need to leave,” you told him, speaking softly and calmly. “Now.”
“But we’ve hardly seen anything,” he said. You couldn’t see his frown, but you could hear it.
“I’m telling you, we need to leave,” you said softly, desperately trying to remain calm. “We’re not alone.”
“Someone is here?” he asked loudly, shining his light in a large circle, catching it all on camera. “Show yourself!”
“Acheron!” you hissed.
“Don’t you want a head start?” an unfamiliar voice asked. No. Not unfamiliar. Jarring though, because you didn’t recognize why you would know it. What memory was attached to that disembodied sound.
Acheron let out a high pitched sound of terror which scared you nearly as bad as the voice, almost causing you to fall over.
“Who is that? Show yourself!” he demanded. No answer. Of course there was no answer. No sound, not even the faint echo of footsteps.
“We have to leave,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Acheron, your voice an octave too high with stress. “We have to get out of here.”
“It’s nothing. I told you that the local youths often come here, did I not?” he asked, maintaining that feigned sense of control. “I demand you show yourself!”
“Acheron, please,” you begged, tugging at his jacket. He kept his camera fixed on where the voice had come from. It was from the hall branching off of the entrance out of the pleasure plaza and into the courtyard, essentially barring your most direct route of escape.
“You really ought to listen to the lady,” the voice said, just as casual, just as playful, just as recognizable. You hadn’t really been aware of a distinct echo beforehand, but the room was large enough to cause the voice to bounce around, to obscure the speaker’s location. Not only disembodied, omniscient. And you were stupid and crazy but you were acutely aware of how dangerous this was, it was a primal instinct to recognize danger.
Freeze finally ran its course, returning some semblance of sensation to your numb limbs to take flight. You didn’t think, you ran, turning away from the voice to bolt in the opposite direction. Right then, you didn’t care whether or not Acheron decided to follow. Since you couldn’t leave the way you came in, you picked the nearest door. Terror thundered in your chest, a compliment to the sound of your footsteps on the rotting floor. You, with Acheron right on your heels, entered into a music room or another sitting room, or some other area where the wealthy and powerful whiled away their hours of excess. You shouldn’t have looked behind yourself, but you did and you could see, silhouetted in the moonlight from the courtyard, the unmistakable form of another person. And then you were pushing Acheron further into the dark with a fistful of his jacket, driven only by the need to get away. The door was intact enough for you to throw it closed behind you, and the sound rattled through the air.
The scent of wet rot was stronger back here, but you didn’t even think about stopping. The door didn’t open as you both scrambled through the room and into the hall, but you knew from the plans that there were other ways in and out of most rooms in the castle. If not directly, then from above, or even from below.
“This is the wrong way,” Acheron told you crossly, although his control was fraying with his labored breathing.
“Just run,” you told him, pushing at his back. You could have let go and run past him, but you were too scared of being alone, of having to navigate this dark, creepy place by yourself.
He didn’t argue. Or maybe he did, you didn’t even know, couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart and harsh breathing, your body synthesizing musty air into iron-tanged rasps that cut up in the inside of your throat. You had no idea where the hallway you ran into led, but it didn’t really matter. Away, that was what mattered. The hallway was narrow and stank of humid rot, entirely dark save for your flashlights, but the room at the end had windows, filling it with blessed moonlight. Slamming the door behind yourself again, you continued forward, stumbling to keep up with Acheron.
Until you were yelping in surprise, the floor giving out beneath your feet. There was a brief moment where gravity hooked beneath your bellybutton and yanked, and then the floor hit, and it hit hard. Although you instinctively tried to fall in a slightly upright position, the momentum dragged you into an awkward roll, your body curling so as to protect your head. For a miniature eternity, there was no air, there was no thought in your head, there was no light save for the blinding radiance as impact blazed white hot agony through your head. Gasping, writhing on the cold, hard floor, you blinked teary eyes, staring at the hole that had just eaten you with some vague idea that you were dreaming, that this was all a made up fantasy. It was unreal, and it was painful.
A moment later, a beam of light hit your face. So bright, like a little sun. You sucked in a lungful of air, tasting blood. Then, almost unconsciously, you jerked sideways and lurched around onto your knees. The pain enveloped you in a mad rush all once, your empty body dry heaving with nausea. Only, there wasn’t enough air to expel the sour bile in your stomach, leaving you to choke and suffocate on nothing instead. That tapered off into a few pathetic coughs a moment later, your entire body shaking and clammy.
“Oh dear,” Acheron said, his voice thin with fear. “Are you hurt?”
All you could manage in response was a groan, and then a broken sob. But fear was a good motivator to get moving, and adrenaline shocked your system enough to force you upright. Now that you could remember, more or less, how to breathe, the worst of the damage was where you had initially landed on your hip, your shoulder hitting nearly as hard a second later. It sent violent, lurid pain straight down your arm and leg, the entire left side of your body alight as if from a branding iron.
“I’m fine,” you croaked out, not knowing if it was true but knowing that it needed to be true.
“Thank goodness,” Acheron said, his voice heavy with relief. “I don’t suppose you see any way to climb back up?”
You couldn’t see anything outside of the hot spotlight from above, your ThruNite had gone dark and skittered away somewhere into the shadows. At first, you only felt panic at the realization, terror that you were stuck in the darkness. It took you a long moment to think past the pain and the dark and the fear to remember that you had a backup light. After a few tries of fumbling with the zipper on your sling bag, you got your sweaty fingers around the yellow plastic base of your second flashlight. It was nothing so good as the hefty ThruNite, emitting a buttery yellow glow, but it was something. You waved it around, although you knew it was a lost cause before looking. The hole you had fallen into was rotted all the way through, leaving a few jagged boards around the edges, some of which you had brought with you on the way down, and parts of which were embedded in your hands and knees. There was no way back up.
“No,” you said, painfully staggering to your feet and brushing yourself off as best you could. “I’ll have to find the stairs, I think… I think there’s some in the southern wing. Meet me there and we can—”
“And stay here?” he demanded. “Are you mad? No, no, I simply cannot. I shall… I shall run and send help. Yes, that is the best course of action.”
You squinted against the blinding beam of his flashlight, mute with confused shock for a long, silent moment.
“Acheron, you can’t do that,” you said softly, more bewildered than afraid.
“You cannot expect me to retrieve you myself,” he said defensively.
“No, no. You can’t just… just leave me here,” you said weakly, panic closing in around your heart, ice fizzling out like bubbles in your head.
“I will not put myself at risk for your own carelessness,” he told you harshly. “If you remain there, the rescuers should find you quickly.”
And that was it. His light disappeared, leaving you blind and blinking up at the hole in the desperate hopes of seeing his face, of seeing some sign that you weren’t actually alone.
“Acheron,” you called, unable to keep your ragged voice soft. “Please don’t leave me here.” Nothing. You called out again, and nothing. No footsteps, not even the sound of doors opening or closing, although the violent rush of blood could have covered noises like that. And then there was only your heavy breathing and the sour bite of vomit in your throat and the creaking sound of the castle’s breathing in time with your own.
With shaking hands, you got out the walkie talkie. It took you two tries to find the button, and then the sound of static. “Acheron?” you asked. “Do you copy, Acheron?”
You didn’t get an answer. At least, not from the walkie talkie. You heard something. From far away, up above, you heard this howling, like an animal, but very distinctly human. Your guts lurched, a shiver slithering down your sweaty back, all the way through your body.
You quickly pressed the button down again. “Ah-Acheron?” you asked, looking around the empty room. The shadows of decaying furniture followed your yellowy light, almost mockingly avoiding it. “Acheron, are you alright?”
The speaker let out a little burst of static, startling you. “Sorry, he’s pretty busy right now,” a crinkled voice on the other side said. “Can I take a message?”
You paused, your chest clenching. “Who is this?” But you knew. You knew very well, you just didn’t know.
“Your guilty conscience. Trespassing is a serious crime.”
“Where is Acheron?” you asked. “What did you do to him?”
“Do to him?” the man asked, sounding like he was offended by the question. “Nothing. He ran off as soon as he saw me, so now we’re playing a little game of hide and seek. Sorry, no girls allowed this round. You and I can have a match when I win, okay? Okay, so you’d better start looking for a really good spot.”
Your mouth was open, gaping with no sound coming out. You felt nearly as winded by this as you did from the fall, unable to think, to formulate any rational reaction. “I-I don’t understand.”
“You’ve never played hide and seek? Oof, your childhood must have been a real bummer. The point of the game is that you hide and I seek. Simple, right?”
“I’m not… not playing,” you said. “I just want to leave. Please… Whatever this is, I… Please stop.”
“Come on, where’s your sense of sportsmanship? Even this coward is giving it a chance.” He paused, and then raised his voice, calling out to someone else. “Isn’t that right? Why don’t you tell her what a good time we’re having?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... We’re sorry, so please don’t… don’t hurt him,” you begged, your voice wobbling with tears and panic.
“I’m not sure I get why you’d defend a guy who was willing to abandon you here. I mean, who knows what could happen to a girl like you in a scary place like this. It’s practically falling apart. Not to mention all of the creepy and dangerous things that could be lurking around.”
You shook your head, blinking back tears. “Please,” you said, although you weren’t sure what you were pleading for.
“I’m in a good mood tonight, so I’ll give you some advice. First of all, the basement is no good. There aren’t very many escape routes, you’ll definitely get cornered. And, I don’t know if this is true or not, but I’ve heard that it's haunted.”
“Please stop,” you begged. “I’ll leave, I’ll leave and-”
“Hey, hey, don’t panic,” he said soothingly. “You’ll need to save up all that energy for running. Oh, and you might wanna ditch the walkie talkie, it’s a dead giveaway.”
All this time, you had worried about vampires. But it made more sense that some lunatic would use this place as hunting grounds. Preying on the stupid and reckless and your delusions that you were somehow cursed and connected to this place. You were cursed alright. It was the worst curse of all—blind naivety.
“Please stop,” you begged again. It wasn’t that you wanted to talk more with the potential lunatic, but hearing his voice was better than not hearing it because at least it meant you weren’t entirely alone down here in the dark. But there was no answer, just some static. “Hello?” You asked, your voice even weaker. “Hello?”
No answer, over. Over and out. Ten-four.
You stood there for a long moment, sore and sweaty and trembling, your body all at once wrung out and over energized, your heart beating way too fast. The light didn’t reach far enough, it was like the shadows were gnawing at the edges of it, attempting to retake their territory. A little part of your brain understood that you weren’t capable of thinking rationally, the part that recognized the insanity of all of the actions that led you here. But knowing that and overcoming blind, animal panic were two different beasts entirely.
Escape. That was all you could do. At first you thought about searching for your fallen ThruNite, but you were afraid to linger in here too long. You had no idea where it had ended up, there were too many places in the room it could have been hiding. That left you with the weaker incandescent light and, if that failed, your phone’s flashlight.
Your past self was a lot smarter than your current one, thinking to bring some water. That cured the rancid tang of metal in your mouth, settling you somewhat as you considered your options. Rather than abandon the walkie talkie, you shut it off. It was stupid, but you couldn’t just abandon your sole source of connection to any living beings. You checked your phone as well, but the same NO SERVICE bar sat at the top.
There was no other way than forward. The room that you fell into didn’t have doors, only dark, decaying holes where doors might have once been. The one on your left was the source of the dank, rotting scent. It was completely flooded, the water covered with an inky, oily film, your light reflecting off of it unnervingly. When you steeled yourself to venture forward, you realized that the hall was slightly flooded as well. Not more than an inch or so, but enough to make your boots wet, and enough to make each footstep splash and squish, rendering stealth impossible. Then again, the light made that impossible anyway. Shining your light both ways, you debated which way to go, trying to remember the castle plans. The trouble was that you had no idea where you might have fallen. Everything was dark and creepy and awful and you just wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. To close your eyes and imagine your way out of the situation, to stay right there without ever moving and escape.
After a second of despair and terrified self pity, you went right.
If you followed the hallway, you would find a way upstairs. That made sense, there had to be some practicality to the design of this forsaken place. Or, that was all you could hope for. In reality, the dark and uncertainty threatened to turn your guts inside out, vomit biting your throat as you skirted along the wall. It was so quiet, unnaturally so. In the silence in the absolute void of light, your mind conjured noises. Extra footsteps, the sound of breathing. Echoes where there shouldn’t have been.
You were afraid to blink, that when you opened your eyes something would appear in the beam of your flashlight. But you didn’t want to see anything, either, it would be better to face death ignorant to its face. You wanted to shield yourself from whatever horrors might exist.
Staying in place was a death sentence, going any further was uncertain terror. The man said the basement was haunted. By what? Ghosts? Witches? Vampires? Murderers?
Did it even matter?
Each open doorway you passed came with the anticipation that something would jump out at you. Or, worse, that you’d look in and see the dark silhouette of something inside. Somehow, that thought was almost as terrifying as being assaulted. Animals attacked on sight, true predators were the ones who were patient enough to lurk, to wait, to watch, to toy with the fear of their prey. And that’s what you were. Prey.
On and on. Down the deep dark hall, your footsteps squelching on the damp floor, down down down to the corner where you turned, your light terrifyingly weak, nothing more than a pathetic glow against the all consuming darkness. The moment you saw a set of stairs, you could have wept with relief. Maybe it was stupid because it wasn’t as if they would lead you anywhere good, but those stairs were the best thing you’d ever seen. You gave into the spine tingling fear and ignored the pain of your body to run to them, splashing out of the water and taking the steps two at a time.
There was no door at the top, just a sharp bend leading into a wider hall, the stairs tucked away and likely used by the servants. You didn’t care. This hallway wasn’t flooded, and the scent of death and decay wasn’t nearly as strong. It left you with the same problem though. Where did you go from here? Where were you?
Relief soured into dread. Now that you were upstairs, the game had begun.
It would have been smarter to shut off your light, but without any source of ambient illumination, you would be completely surrounded by the darkness. You stayed very, very still, straining your ears in an attempt to hear any stray sound, anything out of the ordinary. But there was nothing. The castle creaked and groaned, and your heart raced, and your ears rung faintly.
Indecision and fear nearly paralyzed you. Like drowning, you had no idea of which way was up, you were merely thrashing in the blind darkness, hastening your own demise in your desperation to live.
You found yourself walking without thinking about it, clinging to the wall with some idea that it would protect you. Just keep going. There was a sharp turn and then you realized that there was a light ahead. At first you thought it was a trick of your imagination, but you switched off your flashlight and blinked fast to adjust to the darkness, eventually making out that it was light. Soft, pale moonlight. That meant outside, that meant escape.
Continuing to cling to the wall, you hurried towards the opening, eventually turning to the corner and finding yourself within your originally stated destination. At least you knew where you were. Nowhere near the exit.
What rotten, twisted irony. You could almost laugh if you weren’t so close to tears. The Golden Hall, now flooded with thin silver moonlight, was exactly as beautiful as the name suggested. You knew it not from the second hand descriptions—they didn’t even begin to accurately describe the sweeping, luxurious ballroom—but because you had seen it before.
Far above, the cold moon observed you through panes of broken glass. So close, yet impossibly far. Taunting, tempting, representing an unreachable whisper of freedom. Your knees almost buckled, giving into the pain and exhaustion as you considered having to brave even more of the castle if you were ever going to get out alive. The Golden Hall echoed your own personal despair, a decaying corpse of what it once was, its profoundly decadent construction fallen to ruin. But you could imagine—remember, it was a memory, constructed or otherwise—how it looked in its prime. Shining, lustrous gold. And a man, one with entrancing eyes and a sly smile. His hands had been cold but the feeling was so warm, your own heat igniting you both.
“The point of the game is to hide, you know,” someone said from behind you. In your despairing trance, you had gone further into the ballroom. Now you whirled around, clutching your chest in terror. “Although I am impressed you found your way up. Even I get the creeps going down there. Somebody really ought to do something about the flooding.”
Shaking hard, you flicked your flashlight on, illuminating the man in its weak, yellow glow. He didn’t shy away, looking at you head on. His footsteps were slow and measured, impossibly graceful. Yes, yes of course. So obvious, so brutally, painfully blatantly obvious that it would be him. In the dim glow of your light, the most you could make out was the gold wink of his earring, but you knew without seeing that his eyes were that lovely shade of green, tinged with the romantic oceanic blue, so striking against his tan skin and black eyelashes. You knew that as surely as you knew the creases of your palm, or the constellations in the sky.
“I admit,” he said, breezing past your silence, “I do have a slight advantage. You hurt yourself when you fell, right? I could smell your blood all the way from the catwalk. I’ll let you know if it tastes as good as it smells.”
“Stay away from me,” you demanded, surprised at how clear the words sounded despite the saliva pooling on your tongue.
“I mean it, you smell really good,” he said, ignoring you and continuing forward. “Hey, why don’t you make this easy for me and put down that light? Nobody likes a sore loser.”
“I told you-”
“Yeah, yeah, stay away,” he said flippantly. But he did stop, tilting his head in consideration. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you? Fine. If you’re going to run,” he gestured behind himself at the exit into the dark hall, “now’s your chance.”
You didn’t think about the cheeky smile he wore, or the mocking tenor of the offer, or the reason he might let you run in the first place. You just did it, just ran, not looking back. There was blood in your throat and your entire body ached and you weren’t entirely sure you knew where you were going, but you didn’t pause.
Step after pounding step, your heart racing, your breath coming out in sharp little gasps. Through the hall, which spanned miles and miles and miles, into the dining hall with its dust and cobwebs and ruined finery. You hit your bruised hip on the doorway which nearly sent you tumbling onto the ground. The red hot pain was so intense you had to stop and lean on the wall, your body physically refusing to go forward.
Could you hear him? Were those his footsteps coming down the hall or your own telltale heart with its madness inducing beat?
There was no time for your pain. If you couldn’t get away from here, you would die. That was a fact. Rubbing your sweaty palm on your hip as if to soothe it and sobbing dryly with all the pitiful disgrace of a child, you took off again.
When you burst out into the pleasure plaza, the place of that first confrontation, hope reignited in your heart. It didn’t matter that there was still a significant dash to the exit, at least you knew where you were. Ignoring all else, you retraced your original ill-fated steps out into the courtyard. The moon was hidden behind the golden tower, peering into the front of the castle and leaving the courtyard nearly as dark as the halls. It didn’t matter. You raced across, blindly passing the one eyed deer in his long night vigil.
Until your toe caught on a loose rock, and you launched forward onto your elbows and knees, skittering forward across the ground. Once more, your flashlight was flung from your grip and landed somewhere ahead in the dense foliage. A harsh yelp left your mouth and you collapsed, completely boneless and exhausted and in genuine, insistent agony. Everything ached and the terror was relentless, pain consuming every panicked thought and infecting every inch of your body. You were doomed. Damned. Dead.
Footsteps approached from behind. Easy, casual, measured. You flipped onto your back, wincing at the weight it put on your bruised hip. Your pursuer didn’t look dangerous. The outline of his messy curls gave him an innocent silhouette, and his hands were empty of any weapon.
“Ouch, that must have hurt,” he said. “You should be careful, you could injure yourself if you don’t watch where you’re going.”
“Stay away from me,” you got out between gasping breaths.
“I bet you’re tired from all that running, huh? That’s fine, I think we’ve had enough fun for the night.” Without pausing, he dropped down onto his knees, one between your legs and the other astride your hip. You cried out in protest, getting your trembling arms beneath yourself to crawl backwards, but he caught you by the strap of your sling bag, and then with a fistful of your shirt to keep you in place, caging you in with his body. You couldn’t see the color of his eyes, they were only dark as he leaned down over you.
“Stop it, please,” you begged, weak and trembling, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, mixing with the sweat. “Just let me go, please.”
“I’m sure you get this all the time, but you smell unbelievably delicious,” he said, his nose brushing your sweaty neck. You could feel your pulse jump against the thin skin there and you held completely still, a million thoughts slamming into each other all at once in your head. Vampires, murderers, insanity—anything and everything but most of all was just the mindless, irrational terror and despair. You were going to die. In a final spasm of rebellion, your back arched and legs kicked, but your body was caught between the jagged ground beneath and the firm press of his body above, pinned flat. And your hands weakly pushed at his chest, but it was a lost cause, and he wasn’t listening to your constant mumbling pleas to stop.
Another pathetic sob hiccupped in your chest. You wanted your dad, you missed him. You needed him. And then you went limp because, now and forevermore, you were alone.
“Come on, you don’t need to cry,” he murmured sweetly, a smile in his voice. You didn’t respond, staring up at the starry sky above. They were cold and without shape or form. Indifferent to your pain.
The touch of his lips on your neck was shockingly cool, you almost wouldn’t have believed it was a mouth until you felt the needle-like puncture of fangs. That made you jump, squealing, but he held you in place which was probably a good thing because he was biting your neck and that could get dangerous fast. The pain sharply worked down through the rest of your body, the unnatural intrusion of something beneath the skin sending you right back into high alert. And then his lips closed around the created wound to suck.
A little whimper left your mouth, almost confused because even with the unambiguous pain of being bitten, there was something more. The wet release of sensation that followed the bite bloomed out from the point where his fangs pierced your neck in a flizzling wave. He sucked hard for a moment, but then went stiff against you, pulling back with a sharp intake of breath to stare into your eyes.
He looked shocked, almost innocent if it weren’t for your blood smeared across his mouth. “You’re…” He breathed out that word faintly, reverently. There was meaning there, a meaning that you understood. Letting out a little laugh, a bubble of genuine exuberance, he released your shirt so that hand could delve into your hair, so he could pull you into a kiss.
His skin was impossibly cold, unalive, and you could taste your own blood as he licked between your lips to part them. While his eyes were squeezed shut, dark eyelashes resting on his cheekbones, yours were wide open.
The kiss wasn’t violent, it was amorous. And familiar. He held you, practically cradled you against him. He felt it too, he understood what you had known from the moment you saw him.
There was no way to escape the violently seated weight of your own body, of every sensation and feeling he inspired within you. Although, in another situation, the kiss might have seemed sensual, it was only grotesque and terrible. A display of affection in a moment of horror. You didn’t want it, your body thrummed with fear and pain, but you also felt yourself giving into the overwhelming wave of defeat. Even with all that was unnatural and terrible, this man’s kiss was imbued with some sort of cosmic sense of belonging.
If the pain weren’t so sharp, you probably would have relented.
Instead, you used it as an opening, as your final chance to reject this twisted insanity. Your hand scrambled out to the side, blunt nails scraping the ground and open wounds packing with dirt. But you found what you were looking for. Stray rubble, forced up and broken by the relentless roots of new growth, nature overcoming manmade structure. You wrapped your bloodied fingers around the chunk of displaced stone and swung at his head, thrashing against his grip at the same moment.
It was enough to displace his body from on top of yours, maybe out of surprise because you certainly didn’t feel any human give of flesh and bone beneath the weight of the rock. You didn’t stop to consider that, or anything. He grabbed the strap of your sling bag as you scrambled away and you unclipped it without thought, refusing to let it catch you, to keep you trapped. It didn’t matter, you didn’t need it. You needed to escape. You were little more than a wild animal, the taste of your own blood on your lips, blood dripping down your neck, fear infecting every cell of your being.
“Wait a second,” he called. Disgruntled, not pained.
The first few steps, you were practically crawling, your back hunched like a beast as you used pure momentum to carry you into the atrium. And from the atrium to the breezeway, your back painfully straightening out, hip screaming in agony. You didn’t think about it, you just continued forward. Ran out into the night, ran through the woods, sticks and foliage catching your clothes and skin, ran down the dirt path to the road. There wasn’t a single thought in your head to get help, just to get away. And then you were flying through the night on your silver bike, your body pushed past the point of weary, into some territory where you weren’t even sure you were actually alive anymore, just acting because you had to act. Although it seemed to take hours of cycling down the dark road, there was this vague impression that no time at all passed before you were coming up to the inn, the bicycle’s wheels crunching across the gravel alley before you ditched it.
Your room’s window was still open, the way you left it so you didn’t have to sneak in and out the front. The lights were on and they were warm and bright, inviting. You scrambled in, bloody and filthy and sweaty and shaking, and slammed the glass pane shut so hard it rattled, pulling the blinds shut to protect you from the night.
And then you wept, and you retched, and you waited for sunrise.
Act 4
“Die he or justice must; unless for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death.”
I.
1st day of Horsebow Moon
It’s all real. There is something living in El Dorado. He got Acheron, I waited all night and he never came back and they’re saying that he left yesterday but I know he didn’t. I left him there. I abandoned him there. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.
If you find this, it means he came for me too.
II.
A woman sat in the waiting room of the police station when you entered, her legs crossed as she casually read the paper. There was nobody else around, not even at the desk. A lazy fan swiveled in the corner, whirring loudly but not doing anything to cool the room so much as it just pushed around the warm air. It made the high necked shirt you were wearing that much more uncomfortable. Trying very hard to hide your limp—your hip wasn’t seriously injured, but you’d have a hell of a bruise for weeks—you walked up to the desk, peering into the back to check if anyone was there. No luck. It was almost eerily quiet.
“Are you here to talk to the police?” the woman asked, looking at you over the top of her paper.
You opened your mouth to respond before settling on nodding instead.
She turned to the next page, her attention drawn back down. “What about?”
You hesitated, not knowing how to answer, or even if you should. Before leaving the inn, you hadn’t thought very hard about how you would present your story. The only evidence you had was your sore body, but you had to do something for Acheron. Even if he was annoying and rude and unpleasant, that didn’t mean he deserved to be dead and forgotten.
“I know all of the folks on the force,” she explained. “I’m sure I could help you out.”
“I… I’m here to give a statement, that's all,” you told her, aware of how hoarse your voice was. You sounded and looked rough, there was no hiding it.
“Well, they’re at lunch right now,” she said. “Why don’t you sit down and wait with me?”
You looked at the empty desk, and then at her, and then sat down, once again trying not to wince at the way your hip complained. Really, your entire body complained. You used practically half a bottle of Bactine trying to clean up the mess of shredded skin on your hands, elbows, and knees. Not to mention the bruising.
“I’m Judith, by the way,” she said.
“It’s nice to meet you,” you said.
“I take it you don’t know who I am,” Judith said, a hint of amusement in her eyes. That perked you up, just a bit. Not in a good way. So lost in your own miserable anxiety and fear, you hadn’t really considered how off putting her demeanor was before now.
“Should I?” you asked.
“You might be interested, at least. I’m the owner of El Dorado and the surrounding property.”
You felt the blood fade from your face, your empty stomach twisting with guilt and fear, the sore muscles clenching uncomfortably.
“Don’t make that face,” she said, folding up her paper. “I’m not here to report you.”
“I-”
“That’s not to say I couldn’t,” she said, cutting you off, “but I figured I’d give you a chance to do the smart thing first. It’ll save both of us a lot of trouble if we agree that nothing happened last night and move on with our lives.”
You froze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you know the punishment for felony trespass?” she asked.
“Acheron’s still in there,” you whispered, adjusting your high necked shirt again. “They have to save him. Somebody has to do something.”
“I heard your friend left town,” Judith said.
“No, I saw him. He was real, and he got Acheron,” you insisted, tears welling up in your eyes. The words didn’t make any sense, even you weren’t entirely sure how much of it you meant. What you thought, what you felt, what you believed. Your head pounded with a violent headache, your entire body sore and clammy.
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but hallucinations are a side effect of things like black mold,” Judith said, her eyebrow arching. “It’s dangerous. There’s a reason that place stays locked up.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it. Could that be true? Maybe Acheron had left after all, you weren’t exactly in the clearest of mental states. He could have escaped, it was what he intended. And the rest of it, the man who stalked, taunted, and attacked you, maybe there was some other explanation for that. Maybe you really were losing it.
“You can go ahead and make a report, if you want,” Judith said. “It won’t matter. All of the evidence points to your friend packing up and leaving. Without a body, the only crime here is yours. They’ll bury you in whatever charges they can make stick.” She paused, giving you a sideways glance to make sure you were listening. “None of that has to happen. No report, no paperwork, no crime. You go back to your inn, pack your bags, and leave town. Everybody’s happy.”
A couple of answers came to mind, and then a couple of complaints. Eventually, you just nodded.
“See? I knew we could handle this peacefully.”
“I’m scared,” you said softly, the pitiful admission leaving your mouth without thought.
Judith sighed, looking at you with a disapproving mixture of compassion and pity. “Don’t worry. Even if there was something there, I promise you that it’s not getting out any time soon,” she said, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. That passed quickly and Judith stood up, tucking her paper under her arm. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you. I’d say that I hope to see you later, but-”
“I’m leaving soon. Tonight if I can,” you said quickly, getting to your feet as well.
“I thought that might be the case. Well, then. Have a safe trip.”
III.
1st day of Horsebow Moon
I took a nap earlier, while the sun was still out, and dreamed of him. He wants me to go back. Maybe I should, maybe it’d be better if I did. When he kissed me I… I don’t know. I think about it and I’m not scared, I just want to cry. My heart hurts. Why?
I wish it had been me too. I really do. We could have gone out together in a blaze of glory, us rogues. At least I wouldn’t be alone, I wouldn’t be thinking that when he touched me, I didn’t want anyone or anything else, and I felt-
I can’t think like that.
The past is written in ink and stone and blood and ash.
I’m leaving tomorrow morning, it was the earliest time I could find to get out of here. I’ll have to get back in a car. Thinking about it makes me sick, but there’s no choice. She says it’s not real and I know that’s a lie. The bite on my neck is real, I couldn’t have made that up. She’s lying. They’re all covering up for this, that’s all I can think. Earlier when I ordered food, the delivery guy acted so strange, like he knew. It’s insane to think, but I swear, everybody in this awful little town is in on it.
I put the note from earlier under my mattress, just in case something happens tonight. For some reason, I keep thinking that it will, jumping at every little sound. The walkie talkie keeps bursting out static, like it’s connected to the other one, but that’s impossible because Acheron had the other one and the range isn’t that long. I could have sworn I heard a voice from it while I showered too. Maybe it’s connected to another channel. Maybe I’m insane. Maybe I’m going to die. Maybe he’ll come for me.
Death doesn’t scare me, not really, but I don’t want to die alone.
Act 5
"And should I at your harmless innocence
Melt, as I do"
I.
Fiercely clawing your way out of the heavy shackles of sleep, you shouted yourself fully awake, thrashing in an attempt to escape an unknown threat, sickness churning violently in your stomach. Being awake hurt. Why had you been asleep? Everything hurt. Fear was more potent than pain and you forced yourself to breathe, to focus on your confusion and make sense of the world around you. Unfamiliar, although that in and of itself wasn’t dangerous. You had always existed in a state of ever-shifting unfamiliarity. What was wrong, what was dangerous, was that you knew where you were. Rather, you had a feeling.
“Woah, woah, easy,” he said, backing away with his hands up. You blinked rapidly, panting, trying to fight your way out of the haze. The tide of unconsciousness threatened to consume you once more, lapping at your heavy head, urging you back down. It was nearly more than you could take to keep your eyes open, but you fought it. Something was wrong, you needed to be awake. As your vision brightened bit by bit, you met a pair of green eyes, and your blood turned to ice.
“It’s you,” you said, your voice soft and close to breaking, mushy in your mouth. Nearly inaudible. Everything was sore and stiff and painful, and it was so unbelievably hard to keep yourself from drifting again. It had to be a drug in your system, but you couldn’t think properly to know how or why. “You… You’re-”
“I usually go by Claude,” he told you with a winning grin. And it was a smile you knew. Intimately, honestly, a smile so familiar you ached.
You blinked hard, shaking your dizzy, heavy head in frustration, unable to accept what you were seeing and hearing. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember the last thing you’d been doing before you woke up here, the squishy bit of brain behind your eyes pounded at the effort. And that name. You knew it, you had long attached it to the man in your dreams no matter how little sense it really made.
Or maybe it all made perfect sense, and that was why you were so scared. Claude von Riegan, resident vampire of El Dorado.
“I… What happened?” you asked weakly, tearfully. “Why do I…? Dizzy…”
“Don’t worry, that’s from the little concoction I slipped into your food before that kid dropped it off,” Claude said. “It’s not poisonous or anything and, trust me, I would normally never use such underhanded tactics, but I couldn’t have you ruining things by making a big fuss. It’ll wear off soon.”
“No no no,” you muttered, your words bordering on incomprehensible with the effort they took to get out, “this can’t be happening. This can’t…”
“Would you feel any better if I told you it wasn’t?” he asked nonchalantly, sitting on the sofa across from the bed, his arms spanning the back in a casual position.
With blurry vision, your eyes took in the room around you. It seemed normal enough, if lavish. Big bed, large furniture. The smell though, that was distinct. Not rot, but old. Aged.
“You have been having an awful lot of weird dreams lately,” he continued thoughtfully.
You exhaled harshly, going still. Then, slowly, you met those playful green-blue eyes. They danced with candlelight and mirth. Enticing, exactly like in your dreams.
“I hope you don’t mind, I got bored while you were asleep and had a little peek at your diary,” he told you. “I’d love to hear more about that strange, beautiful man who haunts you in the night. He sounds intriguing.”
Had you written about those dreams? You couldn’t remember what you might have put down, usually you just went in and dumped as many thoughts onto the page as possible. The invasion of privacy was like a knife to the bone, but you couldn’t think of what you should do about it, the world was too abrasively heavy to know what to do with anything. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. Tears! Like you were going to cry! It seemed impossible to fight, like you were just as helpless to yourself as you were to what was going on.
“It was fascinating to see how much you pieced together. I’m glad you’re smart, I really am. It’ll make this a lot more fun.”
You shook your head again, which didn’t help the dizziness. “I want to leave,” you said, “I don't want to be here, I can't…" Your voice slurred a little, like you weren’t in complete control of your body. Your thoughts too, they kept getting away from you, slipping out from your grasp.
"Out of curiosity, where would you go?" Claude asked.
You sniffed pathetically, your thoughts falling to an abrupt halt against the question. "What?"
"If you left town right now,” he said, “where would you go?"
You stared at him, unable to figure out what he meant.
"You don't know, do you?" Claude asked, but his tone was all-knowing and smug. "I thought as much."
"I do, I just…" you said. But you didn't. You had no idea about anything. What you would do, what you were doing, everything was a confused mess and you just needed to get out of here, get away. Your breathing was picking up, your heavy head spinning with it.
“Shh, calm down,” Claude said gently, switching from the couch to the bed. It dipped with his weight and you didn’t think to move away, just stayed where you were and looked at him, attempting strength but only managing desperation as you tried not to break down completely. “I can tell you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you.” He paused, smiling non-threateningly. “And, you know, I wouldn’t have had to do any of this if you didn’t play hard to get last night. So why don’t we agree we were both in the wrong and move on? Forgive and forget, no harm done.”
“I-I want to-to leave,” you insisted, taking inventory of yourself to figure out if you were even capable. Everything was so foggy, disoriented, your body unbelievably heavy. It was getting better, but slowly. You weren’t sure you could leave the room, let alone escape.
"Sorry, but that's not gonna happen," Claude said, and it wasn’t a threat but the casual way he spoke made the statement that much worse. He was simply telling you something that was. A fact, a forgone conclusion.
"Someone will… will come looking for me," you said with more confidence than you actually felt, grasping at straws to make your case because you didn't have anything else.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Claude said. "They still think that I'm too weak to leave, seeing as the Macbeth bloodline has completely died out and all." He smiled at that, meeting your eye knowingly, unflinchingly. "Without the blood that roused me from my accursed slumber, there's no way I'd have the strength to steal somebody all the way from town and back."
Pieces began to shift into place. Slowly moving, scraping together as your fogged brain did its best to comprehend what he was telling you. The vague outline existed, but you couldn't quite pin it down, couldn't quite see the whole.
"My blood…" you mumbled, pressing your hand to the puncture wounds on your neck.
"But," Claude continued, ignoring you, "let's say that they know you're here. It's not impossible. Are you really going to place a bet on complete strangers risking their lives for you when they can't even be sure you're still alive? Personally, I wouldn't."
Your breathing, already unsteady, was only getting more out of hand the longer this conversation went on, the pressure behind your eyes mixing a headache with the threat of tears. A hot flush worked its way through your body, a sure sign of genuine panic, some potent mixture of terror and the effect of whatever drug he'd given you.
“Hey, calm down. I'm not trying to scare you,” Claude said, “but I'm not gonna lie to you either. So let’s get to know each other a little. I’m sure I’ll surprise you.”
Surprise you? The enormity of what was happening finally settled somewhat. He had kidnapped you, presumably by drugging you. He had killed somebody. Many people, maybe.
“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, your voice trembling and small.
Claude huffed, slight irritation wrinkling his brow. “No,” he said. “Frankly, I’m offended you’d even ask.”
“You’re crazy,” you said. “You… you killed Acheron, you…” You put a hand to your neck again. The needle-like punctures had bruised, the skin tender and sore.
“Okay, okay,” Claude said, trying to placate you. “I know I might have gone too far, and I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do that again. I was just a little excited, you know? I’ve been stuck in this place for centuries all on my own, too weak to leave and haunted by the ghost of my terrible, yet sympathetically tragic past.”
He paused, eyebrows up as if expecting you to say something, prompting you to say something. How could you possibly respond to that? He spoke so fluidly that you could almost miss the way he casually threw around the word ‘centuries’ as if it were normal, as if it made perfect sense.
“Doesn’t that make you sad?” Claude pushed. “Doesn’t your heart just ache for the pain I must have been feeling all this time?”
“You’re crazy…” you whispered again, unsteadily sitting up against the headboard, drawing your legs closer to yourself to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. You couldn’t ignore the evidence that there was something weird going on here, but you couldn’t ignore reason either. A crazy guy with razor sharp teeth living in a castle famous for its vampiric and occult ties hunting and killing trespassers was more reasonable than the alternative, wasn't it? You couldn’t just give up and submit to the fantasy, not entirely. You needed to make this make sense, to find a valid explanation other than the impossible.
“You already tried that one,” Claude told you. “And, for the record, I’m not crazy. If you think about it, and I know you have, this is meant to be. Who are we to deny fate?"
“Fate?” you repeated. “No, that’s…” Crazy. It was crazy. Everything about this was insane.
“Then why are you here?” Claude asked, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, actually, don’t answer that. I already know. Oh! Speaking of which…” He stood up to find something, pawing through the mess haphazardly left on one of the tables before straightening up with a phone in hand.
“That’s mine,” you said, tensing up.
“Yeah, you left it here. Aren’t you glad I took care of it for you?” he asked, waving it around as if to taunt you into lunging for it.
“Give it back.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Give it back.”
“Ooo, how very charming,” Claude said, oozing sarcasm. But he gave it to you anyway, tossing it onto your lap casually before sitting back down. “You know, if you’re going to break into creepy forbidden castles, you probably shouldn’t take something so important. Especially the thing that has all of the information about where you’re staying, what you’re doing, who might care if you go missing suddenly… Or, actually? You should do that, it makes things easier for me.”
You clicked the home button, greeted with your familiar background, a flower your dad found for you on the lake. That was last year. Not so long ago, but it felt like a lifetime. You weren’t sure what you were looking for as you swiped the screen to unlock it. There was no service here, you already knew that. The phone may as well have been an expensive brick for all the good it did you.
“I’m astonished by how much information can be crammed into such a tiny little device,” Claude said. “Although, in your case, there wasn’t very much to find. No friends, no family, no home… I’m sorry about your dad, by the way.” His voice lacked all levity when he said that, almost like he meant it.
“Don’t,” you said, stiffening. But it was a weak kind of anger. Whatever he had used to drug you sent your emotions way out of whack, fear and anger and sadness getting all knotted up and leaving a lump in your throat.
“Nobody to worry that you’ve gone missing. Nobody for you to miss,” Claude continued to muse. “Nothing for you to leave behind. If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if you weren’t waiting for this exact thing.”
“That’s… You’re wrong.”
“Of course, I do know better,” Claude said, ignoring you, “I know why you risked life, limb, and the law to break into my humble abode. Rather, I know why you think you did. You want to know why you’re cursed, and why all of these terrible things happened to you. You think that when the truth is laid bare, it won’t hurt anymore. Once everything makes sense, you won’t feel so alone and scared. You and I are pretty much the same in that regard. I can’t stand not knowing things.”
You shook your head quickly, refusing to hear his words. He wasn’t right anyway, he was just assuming, just pretending like he knew you for the sake of some twisted power trip. Then again, he was right, wasn’t he? Your brain wasn’t so focused that you could simply deny the truth, deny that you thought answers would make the pain stop.
“Amateur prose aside, you’re right about almost everything—the curse, Lady Macbeth, Old Derdriu, me. You are cursed, Lady Macbeth was a witch, I am a vampire, and so on and so forth,” he said flippantly, disregarding the supernatural as if they were matters of tired fact. “But I have to say ‘almost’ because you’ve misunderstood something very important. Honestly, your little tirades border on willful ignorance sometimes. I can’t tell if you’re intentionally missing the point or if you’re just that obtuse… Er, no offense. You know what I’m talking about, right?”
“No,” you said.
Claude huffed, frowning. “You’re probably the only girl in the world to come face to face with the literal man of her dreams and still insist that you don’t believe in fate. I’m actually a little amazed right now.”
“You’re lying,” you said. “You’re lying so I… Because I’m…”
“You’re not insane, if that’s what you’re going to say,” he told you bluntly. “You’re not weak either. No, you just want a way out, don’t you? There’s nothing for you out there, you know that. You’ve been searching desperately for someone to swoop in and give you direction again.”
“No,” you said again, refusing to hear those words or to believe them.
“Careful,” he said, “if you lie too much, I might just feel compelled to do something about it.”
Your breath caught, your body freezing in place. “You’re crazy,” you whispered, tears burning your eyes.
“Aaaand back to square one,” Claude said, rolling his eyes. “Okay, I see we’re not going to get anywhere like this. Time to move on to Plan B.” He twisted up onto his knees, like he was going to crawl towards you.
“Don’t come near me,” you said with wide eyes, clumsily scooting away, covering your neck defensively. Your body wasn’t moving correctly, your limbs awkward and ungainly. Although, if you were honest, he didn’t look that intimidating in the warm light. No, he looked beautiful. That was the point, wasn’t it? Those green eyes, the soft hair with one little curl flopped over his forehead, the pretty face, the little gold earring, all of it was meant to entice. Vampires were beautiful on purpose, they were both bait and trap.
“I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you. All I want is to get to know you a little better,” Claude said innocently. “Thing is, I’m a hands-on kind of learner.”
“Stay away from me,” you told him as firmly as you could manage, watching him distrustfully with this terrible tingling sense of anticipation. Like you wanted him to do something.
“I mean it. Fear and pain makes your blood all sour. Pleasure, on the other hand…” He trailed off with a grin, letting the implication speak for itself. “Well, we’ll get there.”
“No,” you said, winding up your arm to throw your phone at him. It was hard to keep your arm lifted, the muscles were so heavy that they trembled with the strain. Claude’s eyes widened, and then narrowed, his irritation obvious.
“Oh, come on. There’s no need for that.”
“Stay away from me,” you said again, your voice coming out more like a whine. At this point, your thighs were clamped so tightly together that the muscles ached, your arm wavering from the weight of your phone. Claude reached for your wrist, but you dropped the phone before he could do anything, deciding to make your escape instead.
There was no surprise that you, unsteady and dizzy and drugged, nearly fell off of the bed when you tried to jump onto the floor. You definitely would have face-planted if a set of cold hands didn’t catch you.
“I know this is happening pretty fast,” Claude said, gently pulling you against him. You couldn’t do much to stop him, your head spinning, your mind on the fraying edge of sense from the sudden shake up of blood. He was inhumanly cold, but the fabric of his buttoned shirt was soft. The smell was wonderful, clove and orange and something lower, masculine. “Believe me, if I could give you more time, I would. But we have to make do with what we’ve got, right? And I’m…” His arms tightened around you, not that you were at risk of escaping. When you nervously peered up at him, Claude caught your eye hungrily. His throat worked hard as he swallowed. “Honestly, I’m starving.”
“Stop,” was the most you could offer, slurring the word. You realized that there was no heartbeat in his chest. Of course there wasn’t, he wasn’t alive. His cold hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing along the warm, sensitive flesh of your back, to your ribs. “No,” you protested, squirming. His body was unyielding and firm against your own in the most intimate of ways. You had never been this physically close with another person, not like this.
“It’s okay,” he told you, his nose brushing the crown of your head.
“It’s not.”
“It is,” Claude affirmed, unendingly gentle. He was tracing little patterns on your back that made you shiver. You should have been fighting to get away, but the scent of him was intoxicating, and you felt… Not peaceful, there was too much about all of this that was uncomfortable and scary to be peaceful, but you didn’t feel displaced. “You don’t want to be alone anymore, do you?”
Your composure finally collapsed, tears welling up in your eyes. You hid them against Claude’s cold, empty chest, clinging to him because you had nothing else.
“It’s okay to let it all go,” Claude told you, continuing to pet your skin sweetly. “I’ll make you forget, at least for a while. I don’t want to brag, but I’m the best you’ll ever have. I’ve had a few years of practice to really hone my technique, you know? You won’t remember a thing by the time I’m done with you.”
Your heart pounded heavy and hard once, twice.
“What do you mean?” you finally asked, mumbling the words against him to hide your red face because you had a feeling you knew what he meant, the price he’d demand to cure your loneliness. In a way, it made sense. Another piece of a puzzle that would fit in just as it was meant to, as it had been destined to.
“Wait…” Claude pried you away from his chest, gripping your chin to force you to meet his eye. You tried to avert your gaze, but there really wasn’t anywhere else to go, anywhere to hide. “What do you think I mean?”
Your thighs squeezed together, heat rising to your face.
“I dunno,” you said, trying to squirm away, overly aware not only that you were in his arms, but practically cradled in his lap.
“I can’t tell if you’re being coy or not,” he said. “I guess it doesn’t matter either way.”
“What doesn’t?” you asked.
“I’m talking matters of the heart,” Claude said, letting go of your face to wrap an arm around your waist, his grip impossible to fight even if you weren’t still dizzy and leaden from the drug. “And matters of the body. More specifically, your body.” His other hand delved down, slipping beneath the elastic waistband of your sweatpants to press against you through your panties. You hissed out through your teeth, thighs clamping down around his hand like a vice. Claude only groaned, his palm grinding against you. “I’ve gotta say, it’s awfully cute. You’re so warm and soft.”
“Stop,” you protested, your voice thin and your face hotter than ever.
“Pleasure makes your blood sweeter,” he said, the air of his words brushing against your ear. “The more, the better.”
You shook your head, hiding your face against his chest. “I… I don’t…”
“It’s a fair deal, don’t you think?” Claude asked, his fingers teasing you through the thin fabric, curling to press between your folds, skimming over the sensitive flesh beneath. You squirmed, your hands weakly tugging at his wrist. “We both get something out of it.”
“I… don’t…” you stammered out again, not sure where you were going with it.
“And it’s much more respectable than a messy quickie out in the courtyard. Blood as precious as yours deserves to be savored in its finest form,” Claude said, dragging his finger over your clit, the extra friction of the fabric adding to the sensation. You shuddered hard, heat sinking low in your gut. “I think we’ll start with three and go from there.”
“Three?” you asked breathlessly, your head spinning so hard you had to rest it against his chest.
“Yeah, I’m going to make you come three times,” Claude said, his tone more than a little indulgently condescending. “To start with, at least. You know, to sweeten you up. It’ll soothe your nerves too. As for what happens from there…” He shrugged, the movement impeded by the way he was cradling you. “I like the spontaneity of figuring it out as I go. It’s more romantic, don’t you think?”
“Nn…no…” you said, your stomach sinking, sickness and something else—something that was decidedly interested in the proposal—swirling dangerously low within you. Claude hadn’t stopped teasing you through your panties, and you weren’t really pulling at his wrist anymore so much as just holding on.
“What, are you thinking more along the lines of four? Five?” he teased. “We’ve got more than enough time to kill.”
“That’s not…” You whimpered, holding tighter against him when he wedged the fabric between your pussy’s outer lips to grind even harder against your clit. It bordered on too rough, but it was working as intended, your clit swelling hot and needy, your hips jumping forward in an unintentional chase for more. “I can’t… do that.”
“Did I mention how good I am at this?” Claude asked. “Not that I get the impression you’ll be too terribly difficult.”
You whined in objection, squirming in a half-hearted attempt to escape.
“That’s not a bad thing. The opposite, actually. Like I said, the more, the better,” Claude said, his other arm wrapping around your waist to adjust you, to make it easier for his other hand to work between your legs. You were too sensitive and you didn’t know how much of it was natural and how much of it was from the drug, only that pleasure was pooling up quickly in your core.
You swallowed against the excess saliva pooling on your tongue, past the lump in your throat. “I… I don’t…”
“What?” he asked. “You don’t… something. Sorry, I didn’t catch the last bit.”
“I…”
“You weren’t going to lie and say you don’t want this, were you?” Claude asked, his cold lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your hips jerked, your mouth falling open. You could feel the way your body was coiling up tense, desperate to come. It would be a quick flash of pleasure, hidden and tight beneath your clothes, but it was still pleasure, it was still good.
“I’m—mmm…” You pressed your lips together to stifle yourself, holding even tighter against him. The wave of heat was building too fast, too frantically. Exhaustion, drugs, your general mental degradation, you could pin the blame on any number of external factors so you didn’t have to take responsibility for what you felt. The result was the same though, and it was you and you alone who chased the tantalizing build of pleasure.
“Do you feel that? That’s the sweet, sweet feeling of me being right yet again,” Claude said, saccharine and smug. “Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
It was the pet name that really did it. Nobody had ever said something like that to you, and the heavy weight of it in his voice pushed you over the edge with an anxious little jerk of pleasure and a choked noise in the back of your throat, with a hot flash that made your clothes feel too tight, that made your clit pulse beneath his touch, rubbed raw with the friction of fabric. It was awkward and cramped and thin and it was everything, you clung onto him as the fizzles of heat sparkled out, your muscles contracting, your mouth open and silent.
When it was over, when Claude quit rubbing those evil little patterns over your sensitive clit, you let out a shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself down. Without the distraction of pleasure keeping you on edge, you felt the bite of nausea in your throat. The recognition that this was wrong, and that you had no idea what to do to fix it, or even if that was possible.
“The thing is that when you come, your body releases all sorts of hormones. It’s a fun little cocktail that behaves in basically the same way as sugar. For me, at least,” Claude explained, unceremoniously dumping you onto your back in a boneless splay. “A couple of orgasms is… It’s like the difference between gnawing on a day-old biscuit and savoring a cinnamon bun with icing.”
“What are you doing?” you asked. You tried to hold onto him, but Claude easily knocked your arms away so he could pull your sweatpants off. They were cast somewhere to the side before he hooked a cold hand under your knee, lowering himself between your legs. “What-”
“I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth,” Claude explained, looking up at you with bright eyes. He looked so innocent, so sweet. So mischievous. “You don’t mind, right?”
“Mind what?” you asked, trying to close your legs, to hide yourself from him. The panties you were wearing were old and plain, far from anything even approaching sexy. But the idea of removing them was worse, you couldn’t stand thinking of him looking so forwardly at your bare pussy. The humiliation would kill you. “Please stop,” you said, your voice pinched and small.
“Oh, wow, would you look at that?” Claude asked, his finger tracing the wet spot soaking through your panties. Your hips twitched, the muscles in your thighs tensing. “It looks like you don’t want me to stop.”
“Don’t look,” you said, squirming in an attempt to get free.
“Don’t look?” Claude repeated, feigning guilelessness. “So it’s okay if I touch, but only so long as I keep my eyes closed? Good to know.”
“No, that’s not-”
He cut you off, his tongue replacing his fingers, dragging over the wet spot with a depraved sort of intensity. And his eyes, as he said, were closed. Already, the sane thoughts of sickness and doubt were beginning to scatter anew, your body responding to the promise of new pleasure. Claude exploited that, continuing to lickyou through the damp fabric of your panties while you squirmed, settling for covering your face in place of fighting him off. Not that he was looking.
“You’ve been alone for a long time, haven’t you?” Claude asked, hooking his fingers beneath your panties to slowly peel them off. You fought that, but it wasn’t hard for him to wrench the cotton from your grasp, the elastic tearing before he got them all the way down and off. When he ghosted his cool fingertips over the bruise on your hip, you shivered. “I’ve barely done anything and you already came once. Every time I touch you, it makes you twitch. I thought you were just discrete, not writing about any boys in your diary, but the truth is that you’ve had nothing to write about, right? Well, until now, that is.”
“What are you doing?” you hissed down at him, finally panicking enough to grab his hair, trying to pull his head out from between your legs, shame raging a horrible storm within you. Claude groaned, flashing a grin up at you as he casually tossed one of your bare thighs over his shoulder.
“Yeah, you can pull my hair all you want. I don’t mind,” he said, his cold lips brushing your inner thigh. You thought of his fangs and how easily they had pierced your neck, falling still as he passed the artery there. But that wasn’t his destination, you realized. Claude separated your outer lips, staring at your bare pussy for a long moment before his head dropped forward.
You yelped when his cold tongue began to draw relentless patterns over your swollen clit. His fingers kept you spread open for him and you couldn’t breathe, every single muscle in your body pulled taut in preparation for the orgasm you were being enticed into. Disgust and humiliation remained constant, sure, but it wasn’t enough to dissuade your body from the pleasure.
Even when your thighs closed around his head, certainly suffocating him, Claude didn’t falter. Even when you pulled at his hair, even when your hips jumped against his face, he just groaned, doubling down. He had to have been putting on a performance, considering how loud he was, eating you out as sloppily as possible so you had no choice but to revel in the depraved noises. The rest of it was all you. Your moaning, your whimpering, your gasping. Your body didn’t belong to you, you couldn’t force yourself to stay still, couldn’t stop the noises from leaving your mouth, couldn’t stop the hot coil of pleasure from building and building and building.
“I c-can’t,” you got out breathlessly, “I-I… I can’t.”
“Just keep telling yourself that,” Claude said, looking up at you from beneath thick, dark eyelashes. “It’ll make this a fun surprise. For you.”
Forcing your hips flat against the bed, his wicked tongue continued to push you even closer to the precipice. You whimpered, tossing your head back because there was nothing else you could do. It was embarrassing and awful and you hated it, but you knew you weren’t far off. Heat ballooned up in your core, all of your blood seemingly rising to the surface and making your entire body too hot, too tight, too tense.
Claude’s lips closed around your clit and sucked and you came with a helpless cry straight out of some trashy porno, your entire body tensing and shuddering and completely overcome with nothing except for the raw sensation of pleasure. By the time you were spent, your fingers were twitching, the rest of your body limp and sweaty.
“See what a difference a can-do attitude makes?” Claude asked, looking up at you with a big smile. You shook your head, breathing too hard, too fast. Unable to meet his eye. “As in, I can make you do anything I want. Funny how that works out.”
“I-I need… a moment.”
“No you don’t,” Claude said. Messily, hungrily, he moved up from between your legs, his lips tracing your abdomen, your stomach, your ribs, pushing your shirt up to gain access to more and more of your bare flesh. When you realized he was trying to remove your shirt and bra, you fought it, desperate to retain some modesty.
“I don’t want-”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Claude scolded. “Remember what I said?”
With his supposed can-do attitude, it wasn’t difficult for him to get your shirt and bra up and off, shoved past your shoulders and arms until the knotted wad of fabric dropped onto the floor. You tried to cover your bare tits, but Claude barely paused, simply slapping your arms away so he could map your chest with his mouth too. Palming one breast, pinching the aching nipple between cold fingers, he wrapped his lips around the other.
“Claude, I don’t-”
He effectively shut you up by biting your nipple. Not with his fangs, and not hard, just enough to make you squirm, writhe against him like you had last night, stuck between his unyielding body and the mattress. Sweaty and hot and desperate, but now for completely different reasons.
You made another sound that was intended to be his name but didn’t come out that way, it was barely language, and far from comprehensible.
Claude groaned, the fingers of his other hand pushing into your pussy at the same moment, driving right past the tense muscles of your entrance and deep into you. The weight was enough to make you really moan, the feeling of him stretching out your inner walls electrifying your entire body. You could hear how wet you were for him, feel how easily his fingers curled and scissored inside of you, reigniting the little ember of need low in your core. His mouth switched to your other nipple, leaving the first red and aching, and all you could do was hide your face, one hand threaded through his hair as if looking for an anchor point. You thought you needed a break, but already you were back in it, already wanting to come again.
His fingers fucked into you with a sloppy sound. In and out, curling and scissoring and not at all gentle. Not that it mattered. Your body was entirely pliant, moving with him. More than that, responding to each swipe gleefully, needfully, pulsing around his cold fingers and sucking them deeper, your back arching to press your chest harder against his mouth, your thighs squeezing his hand to keep him in place.
“You’re tight,” Claude said, pulling off your nipple with a slick pop. “Is it possible that you’ve been saving yourself for that special someone?”
You shook your head, more than a little aware of the way his taunt made you tighten around his fingers. So close. Just a little more and you were going to come for him, the heat having gone from a smolder to hellfire beneath your blushing skin, your entire body wound up.
“Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t been suffering all by yourself, waiting for your prince to show up and take care of you?” Claude asked, making his point with each hard thrust. “Cause, I’ll be honest, that’s what this feels like to me. Sensitive, tight, needy… Those are all classic symptoms of neglect.”
It was difficult to breathe. Difficult to think.
“Please,” you breathed out and you weren’t sure how he heard you, you could barely hear yourself over the crushing thrum of blood in your ears, but Claude responded with a groan.
“By the way, that is the magic word,” he said. Despite the quip, he fingerfucked you roughly and carelessly. His mouth on your tits was beyond pleasurable. It was exquisite, terrible. You came again, your entire mind clearing out as pleasure shuddered through you, stoked by each thrust of his fingers. They kept on curling, teasing, grinding against your g-spot, going as deep as they could each time. Your orgasm felt like it lasted too long, leaving you wrung out, shaking and almost confused. Maybe that was just because of how hard you were breathing, your brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
Sweat slicked your skin and tears had dripped down your cheeks into your hair and everything glowed when you managed to blink your eyes open.
“You don’t mind, right?” Claude asked, his mouth moving up from your sore nipple to your neck. His hand hadn’t stopped moving, fucking into you. He pulled his fingers out only to add a third, to add that much more impact to each thrust.
And he. Didn’t. Stop. Claude didn’t so much as pause when he bit into your neck, pushing you past numb overstimulation, past the discomfort, and right back into the cruel build of yet another orgasm. Unlike last night, the piercing sting of his fangs into your flesh was only good, hazy bright red and sharp, followed by the sweet, cool release of his mouth fixing around the wound to suck. It hurt, but the pain was only an aspect of pleasure. And when Claude groaned happily, his tongue lapping at your blood with the same desperation you felt beneath the assault of his fingers, you moaned openly.
You came again when he bit into your neck a second time, his fangs digging into your flesh mercilessly. The needling sting made you writhe, but his fingertips curled at the same time to press against your g-spot and you couldn’t help it. At this point you were so wet it was dripping past his fingers, slicking your thighs and the bed. Claude sucked even harder at your neck, enough to make you lightheaded.
Whining, you pulled halfheartedly at his hair. Not for him to stop, but because you wanted him to fuck you. Actually fuck you. At this point you probably were insane, but you didn’t care, all you could imagine was how full you’d feel, pierced by both his fangs and his cock.
“You want another?” Claude asked, pulling away from your neck. When he pulled back, his lips were wet with your blood, his green eyes alight. “Some girls would be begging for a break right about now.”
“I…”
“No, no. It’s okay to be a little greedy sometimes,” he said, grinning, the picture of poise and control despite the lunacy swirling within his gaze.
“Nn-no, I want you-you to—” You let out a high pitched mewl when his other hand dropped to touch your clit in time with his fingers inside of you, writhing desperately, helplessly. This wasn’t what you wanted, you didn’t think, but already sense had flown from your mind, replaced by the intense dread and need that had reduced you to a babbling, mindless thing.
He had to have known what he was doing to you, how far your mind had degraded, but that didn’t seem to matter to Claude at all. Torturing you with the dual assault of his fingers, he moved back down your body, muttering for you to hold still before his fangs punctured your inner thigh. Biting the sensitive, giving skin hurt in a different way than your neck, but you were already on your way to coming against and when he sucked hard on the wound, you just whined, gripping his hair in a desperate attempt to stop yourself from falling apart completely.
Claude moaned, sucking hard as you sobbed and moaned and trembled through another orgasm, dripping and squeezing his fingers, twitching with overstimulation and pain and pleasure and the raw rush of ecstasy. He finally let up when you whined, his mouth releasing your thigh and pulling his fingers out of you with a final little press against your g-spot that made your legs jerk. What little sense you might have had before was long gone.
“Now… What was it you wanted me to do?” asked as he sat back. “You were mumbling, I couldn’t quite understand.”
You turned your face away from him in embarrassment, still trying just to breathe, let alone speak. Claude laughed indulgently. Warm, sweet, even affectionate. He leaned over you to press a kiss to your neck, lapping at the beads of blood that had welled up. Even as you burned, he was cold.
“Look at me,” Claude told you softly, sweetly.
And you did, meeting his eyes again because you were beyond refusing. What you didn’t expect was for him to take advantage of the way you were gasping for air and shove his fingers in your mouth. They tasted like you and maybe a distant part of your mind was disgusted by that, but it was so much easier to do what came naturally and suck on them, your tongue cleaning his skin of your wet arousal. The reaction seemed to amuse him, and, curiously, he pushed his fingers a little deeper. Predictably, you choked. Claude pulled them out with a spill of saliva. Filthy, but everything was already so wet, the added mess made little difference.
“Oop, sorry,” he said without the slightest shred of repentance, sitting up and unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside. You could barely remember what had happened to your own clothes. “I’d hate to put words into your mouth, so why don’t you tell me what it is you want.”
You shook your head, closing your eyes in an attempt to collect yourself. More than ever, reality loomed as a detached concept, floating above you and below you but not quite stable. There were reasons that was probably dangerous, but you couldn’t think hard enough to know. Every time you tried, it was just the heavy thump thump thump of your heart, and sweat, and your heavy, heavy head.
“How about I tell you what I want, and you can let me know if it's agreeable to Her Highness?” Claude asked playfully. You peeked at him from beneath your eyelashes, barely coherent enough to be surprised that he was naked. Beautiful, the warm tan of his skin belying the bloodless cold beneath. Vampire biology, as it turned out, was comparable enough to human biology. “I want to see how many times I can make you come on my cock before you either beg me to stop or pass out. Preferably while enjoying a little more of your blood.”
You blinked, some sense returning to your head as your eyes followed the trail of dark hair down his abdomen to his cock. A bit of fear because the sight of his hand stroking it made you very aware of what was about to happen, and then his words registered and you froze up entirely.
“Oh, don’t make that face, that was a joke,” Claude said, scooping you up. The world rolled, your head heavy and limbs limp. “I won’t let you pass out, you’d miss all the fun.”
“Dizzy,” you muttered, trying to hold onto him for stability, everything he just said fleeing your head as the reality rolled and twisted and shifted incomprehensibly. You couldn’t be afraid of what was happening when you didn’t even know what was happening, although that was distressing in and of itself.
“You’re okay,” Claude said sweetly, brushing a lock of hair from your face, capturing your attention back onto him. Something to hold onto. “I’ve got you. Just relax, let me take care of you.”
Amidst the blurry, disorienting world, his eyes were familiar and clear. Beautiful. You must have muttered something in the affirmative because it made him laugh, the sound rumbling in his bare chest. Claude kissed your lips, your cheek. Then you were turned around and falling forward. It was difficult to balance on your hands and knees. He had to settle for your knees and elbows, your arms were trembling too much to hold you.
“You really are gorgeous, you know that?” Claude said, his hands tracing over your waist, down your hips. He didn’t put any pressure on the hurt one, simply tracing the very tips of his fingers across the ugly bruise. With how sensitive the skin was, it actually felt good, tugging a harsh shiver down your spine. “I’m serious. I mean… Look at you. Not that you can. I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Shame made a brief reappearance as Claude groped your ass, playing with your body a moment before spreading your cheeks, exposing you enough to run the tip of his cock through your slick folds. That made you shiver even harder, your body tensing up, your pussy squeezing around nothing, dripping a little more in anticipation.
“A meaner man would make you beg,” Claude said, nudging the blunt head against your hole. You exhaled shakily, desperate and nervous and filled with red hot lust.
“Claude,” you said.
“You’re lucky I’m so nice.” With that as your only warning, he nudged his hips forward. Once the head was in, you were more than wet enough for him to slide in smoothly.
But Claude still took his time, holding you tightly against him to fill you with little rolling thrusts, his cock dragging against your fluttering inner walls bit by bit so you could feel everything. He held onto the headboard with one strong arm, the other holding your back flush against him which was good because, especially now that you were so full, you had no control over your body. In contrast to your feverish, sweaty skin, Claude was cold and smooth, his flesh unyielding and hollow. Your pussy worked around his cock, adjusting to his size. Any discomfort was easily smoothed out by how right it felt. How perfect.
“Scratch that, you’re going to be lucky if I ever let you leave my bed,” Claude said, his voice a bit harsher, more affected, his arm tightening around you.
You whimpered, your body unintentionally responding to what should have been a threat but only registered as a delicious promise. Claude still hadn’t moved. Every little movement made you tighten and flutter around him, a new reminder of how deep he went, how completely full you were. Claude groaned in turn, the sound muffled against your neck.
When he bit you again, you could feel the way your cunt clamped down around him, your hips desperately twitching in an attempt to make him move. The piercing ache of his fangs spread through your skull, your spine, and then his lips latched onto the wound as if to soothe it. The sound of Claude sucking against your skin was beyond lewd, sloppy and wet and needful.
“Please,” you whimpered. Not to make him stop, but to make him move, to fuck you properly. He pulled off of your neck with a slick pop.
“I thought you’d want me to be gentle,” Claude teased, pulling out of you slowly. He didn’t take on the sensual tone of a lover, remaining playful despite what he was doing. “But that’s not true at all, is it? You want to be used. You want me to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone escape from my devious schemes. Then you’ll have no choice but to be a pretty little blood bag for the mean, mean vampire of El Dorado. Am I right, or am I right?”
The words made your cunt tighten despite yourself. “I-” When he thrust back into you, his hips smacking loudly against your ass, you could feel everything. Every ridge, every vein, it was rough and rocked you forward. Only, he held you in place, leaving you with no escape.
“Exactly, I’m right,” Claude said, repeating the motion, making you cry out pathetically. “Of course, I almost always am. You’d think I’d get sick of it at some point and say something wrong just for a change of pace, but…”
You weren’t really listening to him. How could you? Each thrust was hard enough to practically throw you forward, but the cage of his arm kept you in place so he could keep up the rough pace, fucking into you like you were little more than a doll. You wanted to meet him halfway, wanted to participate, but you were too far gone to possibly keep up. Luckily, Claude didn’t seem to mind either way.
His fangs buried into your neck directly on top of the wound from last night and it should have hurt horribly, but instead it threw you over the edge, your pussy tightening around his cock and your body trembling as you came. The sensation was hard and rough and completely physical, pleasure blooming out from the place where his cock slammed into you and spreading outwards in wonderfully sensitive sparks of heat.
Claude growled. You could feel the vibrations in his chest, his throat. The iron tang of your blood mingled with the filthy scent of sex, and the sound of him slurping at the skin of your neck was nearly as lewd as when he ate you out, like the sex was the same as the blood drinking, the two acts intrinsically linked.
The inside part of your consciousness remained in the heavy, hot confines of your body, desperate for a break so you could come down from the orgasm but unable to deny some hot, painful desire for more. The outside part of your mind floated above, like a balloon, disconnected and distantly interested in what was happening, almost like this was a dream. The two parts warred. One mind focused only on Claude and the pure physicality of it all, the other in a state of disbelief that any of this was happening at all.
Neither mattered, really. Within your chest, your heart raged in a double time beat, racing against the blood loss and the syrupy thick pressure of exertion. Superficial pleasure raced over your skin like electricity. Claude bit into your neck again, drinking even more of your sweetened blood with desperate fervor. You tensed up, realizing that you were going to come again with a twinge of panic. Your body rebelled at the idea, but it would be more painful to deny the pleasure, it would leave you shaking and wanting and desperate and it would hurt.
“You just can’t get enough, can you?” Claude asked. You moaned wetly, pathetically. He licked a wide stripe up the side of your neck. Even now, his tongue was impossibly cool against the bleeding wounds.
He let you fall down, pushing your torso into the mattress. You went without protest, boneless and limp. Claude held you up by the waist, his thrusts slowing down as he experimented a few times. You didn’t really realize the point until your body jerked with intense, almost aggressive, pleasure.
“That’s it, right?” Claude asked, a smile in his voice. You weren’t sure why he asked in the first place, your body’s reaction to him hitting your g-spot was more than telling. It felt good, beyond good, but it was in an electrified, panicked sort of way because at this point you were overstimulated and dizzy and every time he fucked into you it was unbelievably pleasurable, so much that it hurt. It didn’t help that Claude was being so rough, his thrusts losing tempo. And you just took it, jerking each time, spasming around him, moaning helplessly, that coil of heat building with too much intensity, with too much raw-nerve pressure.
“C-aa-n’t,” you gasped out between thrusts, your voice heavy and wet.
“Can too,” Claude told you, twisting your hips a little, enough to add that little bit of extra sensation. You pressed your face against the sheets as you came, your moans coming out practically as sobs because of how utterly overstimulating it felt as your pussy unintentionally clamped down around Claude’s cock, forcing more pressure on your g-spot, cruelly dragging out your own orgasm. He was muttering something, praise maybe, but you couldn’t hear it above the roaring of blood in your ears.
Pretty soon Claude moaned loudly, layering your name with the heavy sound of pleasure. You realized that he was coming too, slamming into you roughly before his hips stuttered, flush with your ass. You shook and gasped and whined, your pussy fluttering and squeezing him, accepting the torment. Inviting it even, dripping around him even as he buried himself too deep inside of you, finishing with a few heavy thrusts.
Claude laughed lightly after a few moments, although it sounded more like a sound of exhilarated joy than humor. You hoped he wasn’t laughing at you, although you couldn’t do anything even if he was.
He kneaded your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch himself pull out of you with a rush of wetness. Shame had burrowed deep into your gut, but you felt enough to pull away, to press your thighs together as soon as you had the chance.
“I may have gotten a teensy bit carried away,” Claude admitted.
You didn’t open your eyes or respond, not even when he threw himself down onto his side and gathered you against him. He was cool and smooth, his flesh inhuman against your own. You were the feverishly sweaty one, although you realized as he held you how cold you felt on the inside. Cold and sore and empty.
“I know you’re not asleep,” Claude said, nuzzling against the side of your neck, lapping up the blood before sucking lightly at the freshest wound, groaning at the taste.
You didn’t move. If you did, if you acknowledged the cold or him or the discomfort or anything, you would have to deal with how awful you felt. Blood loss felt a bit like altitude sickness, at least insofar as it left you lightheaded and nauseous. The sore overstimulation was different, but you definitely didn’t want to deal with that. Mostly, you just wanted to stop existing and shirk the discomfort and pretend that none of this was real.
Claude pulled away from your neck, smacking his lips contentedly.
You continued not to move as he adjusted himself, his arm leaving your waist to reach for something off to the side. “Can you sit up a little?” Claude asked. Your head spun as he pulled you upward regardless of your answer, the world lurching. Your pussy leaked uncomfortably, coating your thighs and the damp sheets. Every inch of your body either ached or felt clammy and sour. Your head pounded with a headache. Your skin was too tight, sweat dripping into the scrapes and bitemarks. A straw appeared at your lips, urging you to finally open your eyes. “Here—drink this.”
You looked at him from beneath fluttering eyelashes, meeting those pretty green-blue eyes before looking at the bottle he held.
“Whassit?” you asked, your voice slurred and barely recognizable. Your stomach protested at the thought of taking anything, but your mouth was bone dry and tasted like blood.
“Water,” Claude said, pushing the straw past your lips. You just accepted it. Maybe you shouldn’t have, he already admitted to drugging you, but you weren’t thinking clearly and it was easier to just do what he said. “Humans need a lot of water. Especially after losing so much fluid.” He paused, smiling playfully. “Do you always get that wet or am I special?”
You blinked at him, taking in a few more mouthfuls of water before dropping the straw. Claude set the cup aside, wiping the excess water from the corner of your lips, and then smoothing over your hair, pulling you against his chest happily. It was easiest to let it happen. He really did smell good, spice and citrus and musk and Claude. The man of your dreams, he called himself.
“They thought they could trap me here forever. After their massacre and the fire, they…” Claude didn’t finish that thought, his voice troubled. There was no heartbeat in his hard, muscled chest, but you could feel the rumble of his voice. “She had family, sure, but her blood was cursed. No Macbeth woman would be able to release me from this place ever again. And then you came.” He paused, petting your hair again. “More than once, if I recall.”
You groaned softly, eliciting a laugh from him.
“Yeah, that was in poor taste. Unlike you, who tastes excellent,” Claude said affectionately. A moment later, he sighed, returning to a somewhat serious tone. “Anyway, the point is that, vampire or no, I’m man enough to admit that I needed saving just as badly as you. That’s enough, isn’t it? We really should stick together, us accursed outcasts.”
You didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure what you were meant to say. Your thoughts, still, were little more than confused slush. And, more than that, you weren’t sure that was the sort of thing that needed a response.
Claude accepted your silence and kissed the top of your head. And then he just held you. Not like he was afraid you would leave him, but like he was afraid you would cease to exist altogether, his arms nearly desperately keeping you pressed against his chest, his hands brushing your back or nose ruffling your hair as he reminded himself that you were still there.
And maybe those thoughts were just projections, but you didn’t think they were.
II.
1st Day of Ethereal Moon
Now it’s just us two. Me and Claude ruling the world. Explorers, adventurers, wanderers. Rogues who hide behind the horizon to keep the night close. I told him that the other day and it made Claude laugh. It didn’t hurt even a bit to say, either. Dad would like him, I think. Claude likes discovering things and chasing mysteries and all that too. There’s always somewhere new to go, we never stay anywhere long enough for people to notice our shadow. It can be hard sometimes, but I’m not alone. It’s as good an ending as any.
Happily ever after.
#claude von riegan#fe claude#claude von riegan x reader#fe claude x reader#fe3h#fire emblem three houses#my writing#not sfw#tw.drugging#tw.dubcon
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