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jacaerysgf · 16 days

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The lady of Volantis

Summary: Based on a request; You have been betrothed to Jacaerys for years now and you two have never exactly been close. He does not expect to see you anytime soon after your first couple meetings, but when Lucerys trial is happening you are suddenly in the keep. What are you doing there? Are you to be trusted?

w.c: 22.3k (i know... crazy right)

c.w: i will not include any bc they would include major spoilers for this fic,, all ill say is this includes things about Volantis culture, an alternative timeline, inaccurate westerios history, COLD READER and smut (a fair share of it). nothing too dark bc that's just not my style but be warned.

Jacaerys has been betrothed for years now. He has only seen the mysterious lady of volantis a couple times now. When her father answered lord corlys call for help with the stepstones with the terms that corlys offer them something in return. They knew they had nothing that could be even close in value to the mighty powers of volantis but in a desperate effort they offer him, Prince Jacaerys velaryon, heir to the heir. They expect volantis to say no, what good would having good relations with Westeros do, they have control of the largest trades and market in the world.

After no response for a good while they expect them to just have disregarded the letter and have given up. But when one day over 20 sea ships show up the flags of volantis on them and a young girl trails behind her father who introduces himself as the man they were writing to they were over the moon. They had only really got to meet the girl one time before she went off to join the effort in stepstones though she did pop by a few times they were few and far between. Her father had warned them his daughter was a bit cold. He gave no reason as to why she was the way she was other than that was just how she was raised to be.

Jacaerys attempted to play nice with his betrothed but due to her cold, off putting personality nothing truly came from it. Instead all she would do was stand and watch him, barely saying more than a few words to him. Every time was the same routine, she would come and leave, leaving jacaerys to worry for the future. He is well aware most marriages don’t contain any love, but he had atleast hoped the two of them could be friends but it seemed like the lady of Volantis wanted nothing to do with him. He had not expected to see her for many years in the future, For their marriage arrangement is not meant to take place until after rhaenyra ascends the throne.

“it is an honor to see you.” The girl nods, still an ever blank look on her face as she grips a square wooden box in her hand. The queen glances at rhaenyra and daemon who manage to hide their shock at seeing the girl in the keep. “It is a nice surprise to see you again y/n.” Another acknowledging nod is the only thing the younger women does before thrusting her hands that were holding the wooden box towards the queen. Alicent looks at it in shock and hesitantly reaches her hands out and grabs in from her. “A gift.”

Shaky hands slide open the box and a light gasp follows suit. A completely custom cyvasse set sets inside the box, alicents hand reach inside and pick up one of the pieces, the dragon, and brings it closer to her face to admire it. “Hand carved and painted.” She looks back towards the younger girl. Her heart warmed at the gesture. Nobody had gotten her a gift so nice, ever. “This is so lovely.” “I had heard you enjoyed to play.” A small real smile graces alicents face as she lightly nods, “Do you enjoy to play?” “You are asking if a citizen of Volantis enjoys playing cyvasse.”

It was not a question, as volantis was the origin place of cyvasse it should be no question she a member of one of the royal families of volantis would play. Embarrassment fills alicent and she places the piece back in the box swiftly, closing it up and turning away placing it on a table. “Of course my apologizes i have no clue what i was thinking.” She maybe expects some sly comment from the girl or maybe no response at all, maybe her scoffing or tsking but instead when she looks back over she sees the girl bring her head towards the ground and twist her foot as if she was squishing a bug. “I was jesting…”

A simple ahh is all that can escape alicents mouth as she looks away bashfully. She hadn't expected her to be so, kind? maybe that was not the right word and it certainly did not fit the look of the warrior that stood in front of her. Laced in black leather covering even up to her neck down to the soles of her feet. The only color added from the silver chains wrapped around her legs attached to the belt loops on her waist, a sword at her hip so close to her hands she could whip it out in mere seconds, her boots look so heavy like she could squish someone’s skull should she want to.

"ziry iksos unexpected naejot ūndegon ao.” (it is unexpected to see you) A voice cuts through the rooms now awkward air and Alicent just watched as the girls head rises and she's back to standing sharply and coldly as she was mere moments ago. "Skoros issi ao doing kesīr hāedar?” (what are you doing here girl?)

“Iksos ziry pirta hen issa naejot māzigon.” (is it wrong of me to come.) Alicent, though she had no clue what they we’re saying, had never seen someone speak and look at the rouge prince so bravely. If any man we’re in her place they certainly would not even be looking him in the eyes but you do not look at him with fear, if anything you just look at him with annoyance straightening your shoulders and you fold your hands behind you back.

“Skorkydoso gōntan ao gīmigon naejot māzigon?” (how did you know to come?) rhaenyra by his side pinches his torso and tries to shoot him a look but his gaze is locked onto you. All the girl does is shrug and turns her attention back to alicent. Daemon is not dumb. He knows this is all timed too well, arriving to the keep the exact day they arrived here. She must have begun her trip way before they had even received word of the trial. He stares daggers into her but she does not look back towards him, rolling her her neck as alicent attempted to come up with something to say.

“I believe i should attend to some things.” With a bow of her head and a goodbye she grabs the box from the table and before she opens the door she turns back to the younger girl, “We should play.” She does not expect a response from the girl, so when you nods a delighted look graces her face before she turns and leaves. Right as the door closes her face falls as she's greeted by a squire who was sent by her father to grab her, most likely interested in speaking about the volantene girl.

The three stand in silence for a bit. Daemons gaze has no let up and rhaenyra readjusts awkwardly. Despite the fact that she does not wish for him to question her so she has her own curiosities. “I hope you faired well on your trip, you must have been traveling for a long time.” The implications of her words are clear, if the volantene girl is annoyed she does not show it on her face instead she merely blinks a nods. “It was well.” “We have not heard from you since last year, we are merely surprised to see you now of all times.” “i was on my way to visit dragonstone, heard talks of you all traveling here. i came here instead.” You say nothing that is not necessary, no sweet talk no sugar coating just exactly what you are asking no more. Its a believable story if it is to be true, but daemon is still clearly restless. “And what would bring you to dragonstone?”

“I was planned to return back to the fight but i heard what happened to lord corlys, wanted to make a stop at dragonstone before driftmark.” Despite your young age you were more than useful to the effort. You and corlys had even formed a bond, you grew to care for the man and when you left the field for personal affairs you were horrified to hear of his condition. “Have you spoken to rhaenys?” “i am yet to see her.”

Suddenly a guard comes into the room and looks at daemon and rhaenyra. “the king is ready to see you.” The two stand and say their goodbyes to you before they leave. Out in the hallway they discuss to themselves. “Gaomagon ao pendagon issa…?” (Do you think she is..?) Daemon does not look to rhaenyra instead keeping his gaze forward, eyes glazed in though as he clenches his jaw. “daor.” (no) She would not come for no reason. The girl he knew would immediately return back to the battlefield after hearing of corlys absence. It is rather strange for her to instead make the trip here instead.

In another room sits alicent, otto and Vaemond discussing tomorrows trial. “It does not matter if the next heir to driftmark is indebted to us. Not when Rhaenyra's first born son is about to marry into the most powerful family in all of Essos.” Ottos voice cuts Vaemond off quickly. “There is something that can be done.” The two of them look at alicent, “She holds a distain for them i can see it, there is no question. Maybe she can be convinced to,” she trails off looking away, “depart from the betrothal?” “If there was a greater thing she could be offer, im more than sure she would agree.”

“It is a bad idea.” Otto cuts, “If your theory is wrong then you could put all of us at risk.” He shakes his head, “I do not approve.” “I believe it is worth a shot.” Vaemond adds looking to alicent, “She is a tigress, she is easily swayed. They are all the same they wish for war, it is the reason why she is out on the field with my brother. She has no conquest anymore in Volantis.” Vaemond leans forward on the table and looks alicent directly in the eyes, “If there is to be a war. You will not win it with her on their side.”

The sun had finally begun to set but there was no rest for the dark haired prince who stood in the keep library, a maester on the other side of the table watching the young prince struggle to recite the valyrian. “Rūsīr māzigon kustikāne se…” (with hardships come strength and…) He bites his thumb and taps his foot as he thinks. He is sure he remembers the phrase, jacaerys mentally berates himself for being so stupid. He is to be the future king, the heir of the heir, how can he let himself be so careless with his studies. “kivio.” (promise)

The voice behind him causes him to turn around in shock.“syt konīr iksis daor drēje mijegon.” (for there is no true struggle without triumph) Soon enough you are standing in front of him and he gulps. He cannot believe you are here, not expecting to see you for many years from now. He puts a smile on his face all be it a weak one as you just stare at him. “gaomagon ao lo mazeman toliot?” (do you mind if i take over) You address the maester behind him who looks between the two of you nervously before nodding and leaving the room.

The two of you just stare at one another in silence for a bit. He takes this time to admire you, you have not changed much since the last time he saw you. It had been at least a year now since you've visited dragonstone and when he got to see you. Even when you did meet you certainly never met this close anyways he takes this time to admire you fully.

The blemishes on your face, if he looks towards your covered neck he can even see a scar the fades under the fabric, he's curious about it, how did you get it? Did it hurt? When did you get it? He wishes he could ask, too fearful of your reply. He cannot mess this arrangement up. It matters too much to not only his family, but to the safety of the realm and the safety of his mothers claim to the throne. No one would dare mess with the power of volantis and the free cities, he would never be able to forgive himself if he messed up what his family worked so hard to get. Especially since it seemed like you did not care for him much.

“You are still a toddler.” You are the one to break the silent are between them. He flushes with embarrassment and takes a step back, hitting the table lightly. “You’ve merely caught me at a bad moment.” You raise your eyebrows at him, a challenging look. He knows you do not believe him, “You lie to me.” He scratches the back of his neck, You're right. “I would never, my betrothed.” He is embarrassed and he hopes by playing the engagement card you will leave, as you seemingly have no interest in it, so he can wallow in his own humiliation alone. She just stares at him while he cracks a smile at her. He wants them to be civil, for her to atleast like him, he fears that won’t be the case. He sees how happy his mother and daemon are and he feels a pit of dread in his stomach, he wants a life like that. He knows it is rare for marriages in his life to be happy ones but he wants it.

Instead of leaving you simply stare at him for a moment longer, he notices a change in your eyes if it was for a split second before you round the table and eye the book on the table. “it is because you are trying to learn from that stupid book.” “It is a book of the Targaryen history.” She picks up the book and sharply closes it before he can stop stop her, his hand lift hanging in the air as she tosses the book away. “Exactly. Stupid book.” He opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to come up with a retort but he can’t say anything before you speak once more. “lets roleplay.”

If anyone saw you right now they would feel as though they were seeing a stranger. If he were to ask anyone else they would say they’ve never heard you speak as much as you were or even the look on your face, though it does not look too different from your normal one, was an unfamiliar one. He raises his eyebrows at you, “what?” “the best way to learn anything is to practice.” “which is why i was reading from the book.” “The book is nonsense. you will learn nothing from it.” “It is how my mother was taught and my ancestors before me.” “Then they are stupid.” He groans in frustration and looks at her with a blank face. “You do not learn swordsmanship from reading you do not learn how to stitch from reading you learn from real experience.” He cannot say you are wrong.

As he says nothing you continue, “Lets say i am a jewelry shop keeper, and you are a traveler visiting my shop interested in buying something.” she presses her hands against the table and tilts her head at him. “sȳz?” (good?) a chill runs down his spine as she stares at him and a warm feeling fills his stomach. He is so screwed, but he just nods.

“rytsas skorkydoso glaesā tubī?” (hello welcome how are you today?)

“Iksan sȳrī kirimvose” (I am well thank you)

“iksis konīr mirros iksā jurnegēre syt?” (is there something you are looking for?)

You watch him struggle for a moment, unsure if he is trying to decipher your words or if he is trying to figure out what to say. He is shocked you are so patient, simply staring and watching him, not pushing him to answer.

“iā rudhy syt ñuha aderī naejot sagon ābrazȳrys.” (a present for my soon to be wife)

He watches your face change for a split second to one of shock then back down to neutral. With his confidence he takes a moment to admire your gloved hands, covered with rings over the leather. He imagines them running down his chest, running through his hair, maybe gripping on it as he pleasures you in ways hes only ever read about, maybe even wrapped around his-

You snap in his face and his head lifts back to look at you alarmed but your just looking at him blankly. “umbagon lēda nyke.” (stay with me) He would. He will. For as long as you asked him too. You sigh and roll your neck he watches the scar as it shows more of itself before disappearing once more. He shakes his head, he needs to snap out of it, he was being foolish getting lost in his thoughts, and especially since his thoughts were so,,, deplorable. He is thankful you cannot read minds as you would surely slap him across the face and never speak to him again if you knew he was thinking so terribly.

“gaomagon emā mirros qantre jaelā?” (do you have something specific you want?)

you.

“Nyke jaelagon nyke gōntan yn eman daor skoros ziry would hae.” (i wish i did but i have no clue what she would like)

She pauses for a moment and stares at him with narrow eyes. When he says nothing other than shrug she rolls her eyes, turning her head away.

“ābrar hae mirros” (women like anything)

“jaelan naejot jiōragon mirros ziry jorrāelagon” (i want to get something she would love)

“ivestragon nyke nūmāzma zirȳla pār.” (tell me about her then)

“gaoman daor gīmigon olvie yn nyke gīmigon issa kostōba se pazavor, se rovaja run naejot nyke iksis bona issa biare.” (i do not know much but i know she is strong and loyal, the biggest thing to me is that she is happy)

The air between them gets hot and he cant decipher the look in her eyes as she stares at him. He fears he’s upset her. The way her eyes and face remain unmoving or maybe he said the words wrong and she’s misinterpreting what he meant. His eyes stay locked on hers as she trails around the table to be standing right next to him once more. he opens his mouth to apologize but she begins to speak before he can say a word. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao”

His eyes crinkle and she has a content look on her face, seemingly happy he has no clue what she is saying to him. “what did you say?” Its eating at him. unlike when he hears his parents speak he does not mind much when he doesn’t know what they're talking about. even when lucerys is doing better in practice than him he does not mind it much though he grows annoyed at himself. But with you, he needs to know what you’re saying. He is latched onto your every word your every move. It makes himself sick to think about the fact he’s missed something you’ve said with the limited words you ever say. He’s shocked you’ve even talked to him this much today.

She just shakes her head and takes a few steps back. Her stoic nature has returned and she's back to not even looking at him. “It is getting late. You should have dinner.” He looks out the window and is shocked to see the had set and it had begun to rain outside. When did the sun even set? We’re they truly here for so long? He turned back to question her but she was already gone and the book placed back in front of him. The only reason he knows she was ever even here is the faint smell of her perfume in the air. Like a ghost she had up and left. Maybe she was a ghost, or merely a figment of his imagination to toy with him. He takes a couple deep breaths until the lingering smell of her is gone before he picks back up the book and leaves.

He clutches the book tightly to his chest to suppress the pounding of his heart and the ache that begins to bleed through his skin. He tries to mumble what she said to himself to try and figure out what you meant. Hes able to catch a few words, stars and the sky but he cant make sense of it all. he clenches his jaw in frustration as he returns to his chambers, placing the book down on his table and gripping the sides of it with his hands. This must be a challenge from her. She’s clearly toying with him. Maybe she did truly dislike him. But then why would she help him today? or can you even call it help? she didn’t exactly teach him anything. he grows irritated at the thought that his afternoon was wasted but then he realizes something. He had no clue he himself could even say or understand any of those words until she proved to him that he could.

Before he can even dwell on it he’s being called for dinner. On his way there he wonders if you’ll join them. His hopes are crushed when he walks in the room and you aren’t there. Greeting his parents quickly before greeting baela for the first time, the two share a friendly hug before sitting. “Did you know lady y/n is here jacaerys?” He almost gets whiplash from the way his head whips up to look at daemon. “yes i got the chance to see her earlier.” He hopes he does not seem too quick with his response. He takes a sip of his wine as daemon taps his fingers on the table in thought. He can never tell what daemon is thinking, though he doubts even his mother can tell what he’s thinking. “i am yet to meet her i am looking forward to it.” Baela turns to jacaerys, “Do you like her?”

Now this question really makes him pause. He has no clue. He is sure he does, in some way, but he barely knows her. Maybe that does not matter, especially in their political situation. It is purely a political marriage he does not need to like her. But he does, maybe it stems from him not wanting to disappoint his mother but he likes her, he wants things to work with her. but a man who is simply doing this just to keep his mother happy would not write her letters while she was out fighting even when he would not receive a response, he would not be overthinking what gifts to give her because sure he could go out and get her the most expensive gem in the world or the most finest silk but she is not the type of lady to like that type of stuff and this man would be imagining her underneath him withering with pleasure. Well, maybe they are but not a man like him.

“She is pleasant.”

The raging storm outside leads most of the hallways empty as people try to remain dry. but solely in one hallway sits a girl sitting with her thighs clenched tightly to keep the torch she has lit ablaze steady as her hands cup in a prayer. Its dead quiet expect for the storm outside and the quiet mutters leaving her lips, until footsteps walk down the hall and the spot next to her grows warm with a body sitting there.

“Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.” the person next to you says nothing as you continue in your prayer. “Light your flame among us, R'hllor. Show us the truth or falseness of this man. Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.” “For the night is dark and full of terrors” the person next to you finishes. A long looming silence hangs in the air as you do not dare move your position. “Are you going to say anything?”

“I thought you were praying.” You finally look up at the women besides you who gives you a curious look. “Is it impolite that i i finished it for you?” “No it is preferred, lady rhaenys.” “have you always been a follower of the lord of light?” “I have been visiting the temple of the lord of light before i could even walk, it would be strange if i were not.” She hums and simply stares at the storm. “it is rather cold, do you not fear of getting sick?”

“i have been through worse weather at stepstones.” There are a few more beats of silence, it is so quiet you are even convinced for a moment she will not say anything else but she begins to speak after awhile. “What would my husband think of all this?” You turn to rhaenys and tilt your head. Rhaenys laughs and shakes her head, “You are the first person i am speaking to that has had a close direct contact with my husband for the last couple years, i wish to know what you think he would say.” You do not say anything for a long moment, your gaze being stuck on the flames still sat in your lap. “I think he would say you are all absurd for thinking he is going to die from this.” Rhaenys snorts but says nothing as she waits for your next words. “But he would not want his brother to succeed him.” It is not as though she is shocked to hear the answer. Especially when it was something she already knew herself.

“why do you think so?” She wants to know why, no she needs to. Just to clear her head maybe, give her some justice in her choice, rhaenyra's offer about marrying rhaena to lucerys still looming over her head. “because his brother is a fool.” She has no clue whether they are his words or hers but it does matter much as in a funny way she seems content with the answer. or maybe she was already content with her choice and needed the extra push.

She watches as the girl stares into the flames aimlessly. “can you see things in them?” “that is the priestess job not mine. Though i can see flashes. i am no were near skilled enough to make anything of it.” “it is a shocker to hear you admit you are not skilled enough at something.” “I am honest.” she nods though you don’t look in her direction. “What do you see?” “Myself mostly. sometimes he is with me.” “who?” There is no answer from the girl which causses rhaenys to sit up straight. “Jacaerys?” A light hum is the only answer she is given but it is all she needs before she lets out a surprised scoff. “i thought you hated the man.” You rip your gaze away form the flames and look at her with a confused look. “i hate him?” “that’s what everyone says dear.” rhaenys looks at her.

“Do you not hate him?” she looks away and stares back into the flames, her face now solemn and she watches the flame slowly wither away to nothing. No more words are said between the two of them but they don’t need to be as rhaenys gets up. “i bid you goodnight.” Even if you wanted to reply you are not given the opportunity to as she quickly turns away from you and leaves. You are once again left alone but this time you cannot distract yourself with prayers. You lean your head back against the cold wall behind you, hoping to let your mind be flooded with mindless water like the grounds are outside.

You cannot fail this. For there is far too much at risk. The words of the priestesses ring in your ears. This is too important. the gnawing feeling in your chest grows as you think of him. Failure is not an option. As much as you wish you could sit and wallow here for the night in your thoughts there are still things you must get done. Still people you must talk to. Maybe you should go to sleep earlier for tomorrow will make or break everything. But you know thats not an option. You get up for the first time in two hours and head towards the opposite direction of your room, for there is something you must do first.

Dinner has finally ended and jacaerys is more then eager to go to his room and take a nice hot bath before he goes to bed but he is instead walking lucerys to his room who looks like he’s gonna throw up. “I am nervous.” Jacaerys sighs and grabs his shoulders making lucerys look straight at him. “It shall be fine brother. Mother will take care of it.” Lucerys looks at the floor, “So i am making it difficult for her.” “No. family is about taking care of one another. It may be tough but it is worth it. because we are family.” Lucerys take a deep breath and opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something but he simply shakes his head before whispering a goodnight and closing his door.

Jacaerys lets out a shudder and closes his eyes for a moment. He feels bad he cannot do more for lucerys. He cannot truly reassure him everything will be alright because in his mind and how his parents talk of the hightowers he is convinced tomorrow will not work on in their favor. He stands in his spot for far too long, His mind far away from his body, He does not know what will happen and that scares him. What does happen if driftmark is taken from lucerys? What happens to his mothers claim? He feels as though this is his fault though the more rational side of him tells him this was something completely out of his hands.

He knows what he is. it is no secret. He knew. But there is nothing he can do about it. He must live with it. It does not matter what anyone else thinks. He runs his now sweaty hands down the front of his tunic before turning and walking away from lucerys room. He cannot stress about this now or else he will not be able to sleep. He is not paying attention in front of him so when hands press on his chest to prevent him from moving he gasps and takes a step back. “My lady.” He feels like he’s imagining you. Maybe he thought about you a bit too much he’s starting to see things. You just blankly stare at with your eyebrow raised. His stress must be showing on his face. he sighs and runs his hands down his face. “I apologize i was lost in thought.”

He had thought you were waiting around for him to apologize to you. “you should not be upset. what is it now.” He grows irradiated. His face turns anger and his blood begins to boil. You were mocking him. it is the way you say it, the monotone voice you hold makes his skin itch. The cherry on top is the fact that you roll your eyes. His jaw clenches and begins to speak through his teeth. “i am sorry i am not allowed to be upset my lady. I know you hold your own anguishes against me but please save it for another day. Goodnight.”

He swiftly moves around you and does not look back as he storms off to his room. He cannot believe himself. Deluding himself into thinking the two of you could even be civil. You don’t like him. That much is clear to him now. He does not notice the fact that you have not moved a single step. There is no noise in the hallway it is as if you are not even breathing. For the first time all day you truly let you face fall. Fingers twitching at you side as if you wished to reach your hand out and grab him but he is already to far away. You have messed it up. of course.

You don’t know how long you’re standing there until a hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head. “Are you alright?” You immediately straighten back up and no one would have even known you we’re frowning before now that your face has been set back to neutral. “I am alright my queen.” “Are you lost?” No. “Yes. I seemingly have lost my way.” She offers to walk you and you finally fully get a good look at her. She is in her nightdress and you eye the box you had given her earlier in her hands. She notices your gaze and perks up. “ah in truth i had actually head to your room to look for you. It is late but, are you up for a game?”

Jacaerys attempts to contain his anger as he asks for the coldest bath he can have that night. They do not question him as they see him furiously unbutton and tear at his clothes. He does not even hiss as he enters the tub. His blood still boiling hot and the cold bath does nothing to soothe him. “You are dismissed.” “But my prince-” “I am capable of cleaning myself.” The servant bows before stating he will leave his night clothes on his bed before he swiftly leaves. For the first time today he is alone with his thoughts for the first time today. he leans down and submerges himself low enough in the water until his nose is just barely above the water.

He is sure the water is warming up quickly because of how hot his skin is right now. He does not even know why he is so annoyed. He does not know you. You do not know him. Maybe he is annoyed at himself for attempting to put in an effort that is not going anyway, maybe it is due to the fact that he is going to be stuck with you for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know. Maybe he is annoyed that he is so enthralled by you. Were you always so inconsiderate? He should have known, gods you never even answered his letters or even so much as tried to speak to him before today.

The stress of lucerys trial and his annoyance with you all builds and all he can feel is a pure ache. Throbbing and aching and throbbing. Fuck when did he get hard? He stares down at his errection with furrowed brows. His hot blood boiled until it all spilled down to his cock he guessed. He throws his head back in anger. Maybe he should just ignore it. He should call a servant in and ask him to throw as much ice as he can possibly take into the tub.

Or maybe he just needs a good stress relief. He is a man and tomorrow will certain be a tough day and he will be overthinking. Maybe he just need to get it out now? He sits all the way up and eyes his throbbing dick angerly. He rarely does this. His sex drive is not high enough where he gets hard everyday but every once and awhile a guy has to relieve himself. He leans his head back to lay against the edge of the tub and closes his eyes. hands sliding down his chest before they settle on his balls. He lets out a sigh of relief as he fondles them lightly in his hands, his thumb rubbing circles on the sensitive skin.

Suddenly the smell of a familiar perfume fills the air. His movements do not halt but his pleasure is increased when it begins to feel like a second set of hands lay over his, adding harder pleasure to his thumbs. He lets out a couple puffs of air and its almost as if he can feel the another hot breath drifting onto his face. His eyes flutter open slowly and he sees you. Staring at him how you were in the library and he whines, “please… y/n.” As if he is high on your smell he feels as though his hands are being guided by yours, they slide from the base of his dick to the tip causing him to curse and clench his jaw as his thumbs are instead pressed against his tip, rubbing in small circles.

He presses his lips together tightly to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. He wants to bring one of his hands up to his mouth to silence himself but it feels like their stuck where they are. Your hands holding his down tightly. “Jacaerys.” He can hear you, smell you, feel you. Its as if your hands have switched and he can feel the harsh leather your hands are covered with. “Please y/n i cant take it please.” Finally sliding down from his tip and down back to the base, it slides back up slowly, her pointer finger is tracing along one of the veins, this continues like a slow painful torture until each and every single vein has been drawn and pressed against the skin, Jacaerys does not know how loud he is, with every groan, hiccup, mumble and moan he can’t even be worried he’s getting louder and is instead completely and utterly consumed by you.

“y/n do not tease me please, please.” The hands suddenly begin to move faster and he throws his head so far back its basically outside the tub. His cock so painfully sensitive from the teasing he feels like he might burst any moment. But he needs something else, something more. Suddenly it's like he can feel your ghost lips kissing along his jaw, slowly working towards his ear, giving it a long lick and he shudders, “Jace.” He cannot take it, his balls begin to ache and he can feel an overwhelming pressure build in his stomach. “I need you y/n” Suddenly a long lick on his collarbone is what has him shaking and moaning out your name while white webs flood into the now very very very dirty bath water.

The only sounds that can be heard now are the light swaying of water and his deep heaving breaths. After many moments he finally lifts his head and slowly opens his eyes, blinking slowly he sees no one in front of him. Of course it was not real. he lifts up his hands and feels how his arms and hands ache from how long he was working himself and there is no smell of you in the room. For a moment he is disappointed until clarity hits him and he's suddenly very quickly standing up, well as best as he can his legs begin to rapidly shake and he hisses as his dick is met with the cold air of the room severely overstimulated.

What had he done? It was a one time thing. It was merely his mind running amok. Yes that's it. He dries himself quickly and attempts to suppress down any thoughts he has. All of them. all he wants to do is slip into bed and fall asleep, acting like today never happened. If he was lucky she wouldn’t be at the trial. Maybe she would head to stepstones tomorrow and they would go back to being strangers until they must marry. Maybe she would die in the war, he ignores how much his chest aches at that, and they would never see each other ever again. He just wants to rid of himself of all his thoughts. He tosses and turns in bed, sleep alludes him, or maybe its his own fears that once he falls asleep he’ll dream of you.

The library you reside in is cold, devoid of all light other than the two candles lighting up the board in front of you and the occasional light from lightning striking outside. “It is rare i meet someone who is good competition.” Alicent is enjoying herself. a small smile on her face as she places down another piece. Aemond is always far too busy to play, Aegon obviously won’t play with her and helaena has no clue how to play. She watches you closely but you face is unmoving, leaning far back into your seat with you arms crossed in your lap all you do is dart your eyes around to look at the board.

When you say nothing in return she is not surprised and says nothing more until you move a piece on the board. “I’d like to ask you about something.” she twists one of the pieces in her hands, eyes flying back between the board and to you. You make no noise or even so much as look up at her like she takes this as her queue to continue. “What are your thoughts on your betrothal?” Though it only happens for a split second she catches it, You tense.

She believes she is right. You are unhappy with your betrothal. She watches as you stare at your dragon on the board, lifting on of your hands to twist it to face you. “It is a fine match.” She hums and nods, “agreed.” Though for the first time you look at her and raise your eyebrows at her. you know there's something more to this. She feels a chill run down her spine as you don’t take your eyes off her while she's moving another one of her pieces on the board. “I hope this does not offend you, however i am truly just curious, is there anything keeping you in this engagement?”

Your gaze does not waver nor do you move to move one of your pieces and she begins to pick at her nails, a pit forming in her stomach. “I do not understand.” “It is simply curiosity. and if you would stay, if there was no longer any political benefit?” Your gaze does not stray as you pick up a piece and place it on the board. “No more political benefit?” You trail off for a moment, she expects you to say there would be no point then or maybe something along those lines. “What political benefit is there for me now?” Alicent freezes and looks at you confused, “What?” You shrug and fiddle around with some of your pieces on the board. “Am i supposed to be getting something out of it?”

All alicent can do this blink. What did you mean? Were you trying to mock her? What did you mean what benefit were you getting? “Your future husband is to be king one day….” She watches as you scratch your jaw and move one of your pieces. “Ahh,,,,, I guess you’re right.” She looks down at the board, she sees the clear path in front of her and tries to suppress her smile, maybe you were not as good at this as she had though, purposefully taking longer to continue to speak to you.

“It would be better if a marriage had benefits i suppose, so no?” Alicent picks up one of her pieces and places it down. Maybe this is her opportunity, there is a small voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea, it was her fathers voice, but she must try no matter what he says. She could be in danger or even worse children could be in danger.

She knows how dangerous and cruel the people of Volantis are. If there truly is to be a war if she does not gain her as an ally they are doomed. and worse they would be fighting against her family, so the punishment and pain she would inflict would be far worse. It would be treason.

“So, would you consider another option, should you be presented one?” She sees the look on your face and panics a bit but manages to remain calm, “Purely hypothetical of course.” “Like what?” “Say if i told you my son aemond remains unmarried.” “A second son compared to a future king? A ridiculous proposition.” For someone who just seemed to have no interest in the political side of things your attitude sure has changed.

“but what if he was not just a second son, but the prince regent to the king” You just blink. you would be blind to not get what she was referring. she fears you will confront her, ask her what she means by her implications, but she is good to remember you are not that type of person. “a prince regent is still not a king.”

“but what if your first daughter would be promised to the next king, your line on the throne after you.” more blinking. She doesn't know what you’re thinking, your face as blank as it always it. “simply just something to think about of course. If tomorrows trial goes well, maybe there could be something.” She begins to sweat under your blank stare. Maybe her father was right, this was a bad idea. You are going to declare war on her and her family for treason. But you say nothing at all for a good while. She decided against opening her mouth again in fear of ruining it more than she already has.

But you make do not open your mouth to speak, instead you just push yourself to stand up and her heart drops but you just place one of your pieces before snatching her dragon and placing it on her side of the board. “I shall think about it. Goodnight.” She simply watches as you leave the room before looking at the board in shock.

you had won.

He’s kissing you. All over your hot skin. Occasionally leaving a trail of his own saliva when he stays in one sport too long. He makes sure to keep his ear right next to your mouth to hear every little whimper and moan you let out. His hands running up and down your sides, you were wearing a red silk dress, a night gown if he had to guess. but he has no room in his mind to think about it as he slides his hands under your dress kneading your ass with his hands and uses his knees to push open your legs to slot himself between you, lifting up your dress to expose you, you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. His lips are surely going to be sore with the force he’s kissing you.

The two of your hips thrusting each others with fever even through his clothed pants he can feel your wetness soak his trousers and onto his hard cock. His lips leave yours and they begin to suck down your jaw to your neck. His hands sliding up to your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, feeling as they harden against his skin.

“my prince.” He ignores this at first. continuing his assault on your skin and the rhythm of your hips getting faster. “my prince.” but the voice gets louder and louder and louder until-

“my prince!”

Jacaerys eyes open and he shoots up. He is breathing heavy as if he just ran all the way from the north to dorne. He runs his hands down his face and he looks at his hands with disgust as he feels the amount of sweat.

fuck.

“my prince.”

“What is it?” He is basically snarling. He is furious he was woken up. He can feel his cock throbbing under the blanket as if he was on the brink of climax. The servant shakes at the dragon princes hard glare. “It is morning my prince, we must get you ready for morning fast.” His head whips to look at the window. The sky bright blue contrasting the stormy weather it had been last night. as if the storm had to happen last night for the sky to be blue. He runs his hands down his face and apologizes, “I'm so sorry, i had a bad dream.” the servant merrily nods with a grateful smile on his face before he begins to help jacaerys get ready for the day.

Jacaerys cock throbs under the cold water. “my prince if you need a few moments alone-” “I do not.” he spits out. He certainly cannot do what he did last night. As much as his hands itch to touch himself he knows he would only be greeted with images of you. He cannot allow that. The servant says nothing more for the rest of the morning, his hardness dies down a little through out his routine but he knows once he is alone his mind will begin to race once more.

So he is more than thankful you are not there when he joins his family. Though his mother mentions she had tried to invite you but apparently you were no where to be seen. Seemingly not having gone back to your room last night. He wishes he was relieved, that he were happy you were gone from him and he could not have to see you for a while. but he is not. He must be so annoyed about it even Joffrey asked him why he had such a sour face.

They all assume you have gone to stepstones, not believing you would be interested in staying for the trial. He says nothing in return. A thought pops up into his head. Maybe he had upset you, he had lost his temper with you last night, maybe that is why you had left. He tries not to dwell on it but a pit grows in his stomach, he does not wish to think about you any longer.

He does not expect you to be there. He had thought you left just like the rest of his family. But as his family was being led into the room he sees you already leaning against the wall near where his family was standing. He could see the way the people were looking and whispering about you. This must be the first time for many people in this room seeing her before, even seeing someone from Essos before. You do not seem to care as he expected. He can’t take his eyes off you. Instead of your black leather outfit you were wearing a completely grey leather outfit still paired with your large boots and silver chains. You have a dagger in your hands fiddling around with it not taking your eyes off of it.

He does not like you he is certain of it but then why can he not remove his gaze from you? why does he wish to go over to you and compliment you though he knows your response will be something like a nod? Has he ever even complimented you? He can’t remember. Maybe he wrote something in one of his letters. But why does it matter why should he complement you if you do not even care. Maybe he should do the right thing and go greet you despite his grievances.

Your gaze suddenly lifts and you're looking in his direction so he swiftly turns away to glance at lucerys who look's more nervous than ever. He wishes he could offer lucerys any sort of comfort but he has no clue what to say. It is certainly not because he is using all his willpower to not look at you. He can feel your stare, your burning gaze staring into the side of his face. He does not allow himself to look. he only does when he sees otto sit down on the throne and it is almost as if you were not just looking at him. backing to fiddling with you dagger, was it really your gaze he felt on him? He has no time to truly dwell on it, not when Vaemond begins to speak.

The trial begins without a hitch. Jacaerys find himself growing more and more irritated as the trial goes on. Vaemond’s voice and the backhanded insults Vaemond is insinuating about his mother anger him beyond belief. Daemon places his hand on jacaerys back to attempt to keep the young boy at bay. Daemon looks over at you and sees you spaced out, as if you were not even listening to the trial at hand., neither really was he if he was being truthful, he knew this trial would work on in his favor, whether he would have to pull out drastic measures or not.

“Why don’t we get the lady Maegyr’s opinion?” Daemon chuckles as he watches your head raise and look to Vaemond with your blank stare. “You are sure to know better than anyone else about my brothers wishes.” Every head in the room is turned to look at you now.

Alicent feels herself praying in her mind. You must take their side, they can’t risk you having aligned yourself with the blacks. She glances at otto who looks to her for a beat, she does not miss the awaiting look on his face. She knows he will be furious with her should you not side with them, she looks at you hopeful, praying to the seven, praying to the father the mother anyone who would listen to her.

Jacaerys watches as you push yourself off the wall and walk towards where Vaemond is standing, stopping for a moment to glance at jacaerys. He does not turn away this time, allowing himself to look at you. He is desperate, he worries as he knows your distain for him he fears that will transfer over to your feelings on this whole affair. He has a look of desperation as your gaze does not leave him, please he finds himself begging in his mind. You must defend them, his mother, his brother. Him. His fists clench at his sides and your gaze drops to look at them before you look back up one more time and walk away.

Standing in front of the throne the room is dead quiet, every person in the room eager to here what you have to say, anticipating it.

“I think this whole ordeal is ridiculous.” You stop to glance at alicent who looks at you with wide eyes, you can see her picking at the skin on her nails. You look back at Vaemond and sigh. “worst of all i think you are nothing than a power hunger pig who cares not of his brother nor his family but only of himself.” There's a couple gasps around the room and Vaemond opens his mouth to speak but you are quicker. Daemon feels rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief and places a hand over her chest.

“Dare i ask why you do not campaign for Baela to take driftmark? by westerios succession rules she would be next in line after him if you do truly disregard corlys’ true blooded named heir Lucerys Velaryon. For you are nothing but an old rotting man no kids, no wife yet you believe you are best choice for driftmark? yet not baela who has spent the last couple years of her life on driftmark under her grandmothers wing who, as of right now, is the proper ruler of driftmark and is more suited than you, a lone man who is closer to his own death day than he is to ever sitting on the driftmark seat.”

Vaemond's face turns to anger, his eye twitches at your words and he takes a step closer to you, his voice louder than before, “You dare speak to me like this?” “You say that as if you are someone to be reconned with. I am supposed to fear a second son you dare insult me, maybe that is the reason you remain unwed, for no one wishes to lay with a second son.” Alicent feels her heart drop to her stomach. It does not help that she feels Aegon chuckling at her words next to him. She does not dare look at her father, for she fears his reaction more than anything.

“How dare you?” “How dare i? how dare you? you dare put into question the legitimacy of the princess and even worse the legitimacy of her children. Ser laenor claimed those children as his who are we to question such an act. You? A weak old man who is so bitter and resentful he must campaign in a room full of more ignorant fools who believe this should even be a question in the first place. You should be hung for treason.”

Vaemond finds his body shaking with anger at the girls in front of him with her ever so calm demeaner, her words cold and calculated like she knew exactly what she was going to say before he had even called on her. He cannot control himself. “You are a lying deceitful monster who believes she is so righteous and strong. Yet i find it hard to believe there is a fate worse than marrying someone of his blood-” “You will hold your tongue!” The room which had begun to be filled with whispers and small chatter ceases completely at the girls outburst. Her face having a look that no one has ever seen from her. Anger. Vaemond takes a step back as if her voice had thrown him back. Everyone else in the room finds themself frozen in fear.

“You dare forget yourself i am first lady Y/n Maegyr of House Maegyr, one of the three triarchs of Volantis i am not someone who is below you, i am not some family member of yours, you will not dare speak another nasty word about him or i shall watch your blood pool on the ground by my blade.” Without another words you swiftly turn your back to him and make your way back to the pillar you were once leaning against, not sparing anyone else a glance and sliding down it to be sitting on the floor with a bored look. You do not pull out your dagger nor do you look to speak with anyone else, simply all you do is stare out into space.

Before anyone else can say a single word the king is announced and he is shockingly walking in. Jacaerys can't find himself to care much however. You are the only thing on his mind. You defended not only his mother but him. You did not get angry when Vaemond insulted your own honor but his. He attempts to will away his blood that begins to pump down south. Maybe you had just done it to keep up appearances, it would be wrong if you did not defend your betrothed.

Suddenly he is rushed with guilt. He had been so cruel to you last night, maybe it had been deserved but he should not have spoken to you like that. He will have to make it up to you somehow. An idea pops up in his head. He is so distracted he does not even flinch when daemon slices off Vaemond’s head, instead turning his head in your direction to see how you react. You don’t, as expected and you do not move even as the trial is called to an end. He finds himself moving without thinking.

You look up once you notice a shadow close around your vision and see him staring down at you, offering you his hand. You eye it for a moment before grabbing onto it and he helps you up. He watches as you use your free hand to dust off your pants briefly before looking back at him. “Thank you.” He wasn’t expecting you to say anything and merely nods, he feels as though the roles are reversed, he should be the one speaking not the one silent. You make no move to let go of his hand and he does not let go either. He does not want to let go. “Are you free this afternoon?”

He watches as you look at him wide eyed, he gives you a small smile, maybe he could use this as a way to apologize. But he watches as you look down at the floor and let go of his hand. “I find myself,,,,,” You trail off with an unsure look on your face, “preoccupied with other things this afternoon until the dinner tonight.” He takes this as a clear rejection and takes a step back. Maybe you truly did what you had done for your own benefit and he finds himself annoyed at himself. You probably were not even busy, you were probably just not interested in seeing him. “of course you are. Good day then.”

You are once again forced to watch him simply just walk away from you as you have once again messed things up and merrily sigh as you watch him walk off. As much as you would like to spend the afternoon with him you have other things you must do. Things you cannot afford to miss. He will understand. But as you walk around out you begin to think about the words he had said to you last night. ‘I know you hold your own anguishes against me’ or even when rhaenys had asked you if you hated him, has you crinkling your eyes. What had they meant by that? You let out a sigh and continue walking through the streets with your hood up, You have things to do, people to meet, you will dwell on this later.

Dinner time has finally arrived and everyone had gotten into their seats, even viserys had been escorted into the room but one chair remained empty. Your chair. “The lady is no where to be found my queen.” Alicent sighs in defeat, had you left? It did not make sense. Maybe you are heading home to plan an attack on her and her family. No. She should not think so irrationally now. “If she shows up escort her here.” The guard nods before moving to leave the room. “Should we pray?”

“She cannot stand your presence so much she is missing dinner.” Aegon whispers in jacaerys direction before being shushed by his mother who begins to pray. Jacaerys has never been religious so he has no reason to pray. Are you truly missing dinner because of him? He begins to feel sick. Jacaerys had definitely not spend his whole afternoon thinking of you even when he was walking in the garden with baela or when he had found out lucerys was to be married to rhaena. It got him thinking of his own engagement. He has been trying his best to figure out what he was going to say the next time you spoke, maybe he should stop trying completely. Today was a slip up in his judgement, he should have listened to his head and not thought with his cock like Aegon.

He will not speak to you unless necessary.

That entire plan lasted all of five seconds because as soon as alicent was done with her prayer the doors to the room opened and his jaw fell to the floor. You stood in a floor length sleeved in the color of house velaryon. It had a long slit down your front down to your waist where it connected to another slit down your leg. the dress covered in detailed designs of flowers. Your hair was done, full of pins and topped with a golden clip which made it look like the sun was shining behind you. he could see the scar that was was usually hidden behind your very covered up look clearly now. it ran completely down your chest and stopped around your stomach where there was a bigger scar.

You were gorgeous. No gorgeous is not enough. you looked radiant, glorious, his vocabulary is not large enough to describe the goddess standing in front of him. He may not be religious but he believes you to be the closest thing to the maiden. A goddess that has flown down from the heavens to grace this earth.

You awkwardly readjust your dress as everyone in the room gawks at you. “I apologize for being late. This dinner clashed with my prayers.” There is a couple beats of silence before anyone says anything. “It is my fault, i should have taken your faith into account when i set this dinner up.” Otto is the first and only one to break the silence and is given a nod before you make your way towards the table.

Jacaerys quick to stand, you look at him in shock as you sit he pushes in your chair for you before sitting back down himself.

Shortly after all the food is being brought out and the chatter at the table begins. “you look beautiful. That dress is stunning, where ever did you get it?” rhaenyra is the first to speak to you, he watches as you reach your hands and readjust the slit on your dress. You are not wearing your gloves. “I had it made in a tailor shop in the city last night, i had gone to go pick it up this afternoon.” He cannot take his eyes off your hands, still covered in rings. He can see black marks peaking through your wrists but mostly hidden under your sleeves. He wants to see them. He wants to see you.

“A dress like that made so quickly? That is quite impressive.” “It is easy to have stuff done quickly when you are presented with enough coin.” more mindless chatter flows around you all. There is an awkward energy in the air but no one dares acknowledge it. Jacaerys feels terrible. You had been busy this afternoon. And he had been so rude about it. His terrible temper and sensitive feelings continue to sway him in the wrong direction.

He wants to speak to you. But he feels as though he will just screw it up once more.

“Lady Maegyr, you had mentioned you are a triarchs of Volantis, is it normal for two members of the same family to rule at the same time?” You pick at the food on your plate, “My father was not re-elected lord hand.” “That must have not gone over well with him.”

You glance up for a moment at daemon before you look down at your plate. “He was furious. So furious in fact he demanded a recount, then another recount. When that didn't work he attempted to bribe them. When that didn't work he tried to kill me. Both the other triarchs were re-elected, He had thought it was ridiculous i was elected. i had not spent a single second or coin to campaign” “but you traveled out there recently no? was that not to campaign?” “it had been to help my father campaign. Seems like it did not matter. The people wanted me to sit on the throne.”

“Do you know why?” It takes you a moment to answer but it is clear to daemon who chuckles to himself. “You are to be a Targaryen.” You hum, taking a large gulp out of your wine glass. “Every single old blood dreams of being even close to the great legacy of house Targaryen. They simply are trying to flatter me.”

There is no room to acknowledge the tension in the room. The adults more interested in learning about you, throwing questions at you left and right. Its a good thing, there's no room for in fighting between the family and you serve as the perfect distraction. “What happened to your father then?” “He had fallen off a cliff. Such a tragedy.” You do not mean that, you seem far too pleased for it to be merely an accident. “That is horrible.” You simply nod, and watch as a maid fills up your wine glass for the fourth time.

“Is your mother around?” “My mother died soon after giving birth to my brother.” Alicent places her hand on her chest, “I am so sorry.” You shrug, continuing to sip on your drink. “I was born with my twin brother, they had not expected her to live anyways.” “Twins are tough.” It is helaenas first time speaking that night, a depressed look on her face. “Birthing is not easy even with one, i cannot even imagine two. Isn't it not common to survive?”

“Yes well, my mother had not died while giving birth. She had actually looked like she was going to live which shocked the midwives in the room.” The room sits in silence and some in pure confusion, “Imagine the look on their face after my father picked up a blade and slit it across her throat.”

Rhaenyra chokes on her drink while alicent gasps and covers her mouth. “No…” “ ‘an heir and a spare’ they say. when i was pushed out first he had expected he would keep her around until she gave him another son but soon after me my brother came out and he had no more use for her i suppose.” “That's horrible.”

You simply shrug and finish off your cup requesting some more. “it is in the past. My father shall pay for what he’s done, the lord of light shall do what he sees fit to punish him. Even so he has already paid for his crimes in a sense.” It is a shock to hear you talk so much. Maybe it is the wine that is loosing you up. But there must be a deeper reason as to why you seem to be acting differently tonight.

“It is nice to see someone can keep up with me in the drinks. Maybe we should see if you can keep up with me in other places.” Aegon whispers the last part in your ear. You keep your gaze forward continuing to drink, had you even taken a bite out of your meal.

“Hold your tongue when speaking to my betrothed.” It is now jacaerys who whispers from your right. He has a venom in his voice as he glares in his direction. You look at neither man, simply blind to the stare down they are having behind you.

“My lady i truly feel bad for you. I'm sure his cock is so flaccid he has no clue what to do with it. If you ever need some real experience feel free to come visit me.”

What really gets jacaerys anger is Aegon placing his hand on your bare back that had been exposed. He swears his eye is twitching as he fights the urge to pick up his steak knife and stab it into his hand to get it off your skin. He had never even touched your skin before.

You suddenly reach behind your back and rip his hand off, twisting it lightly causing him to hiss. “Touch me or even so much as speak to me again and i shall do worse to you.” You do not even spare him a glance as you finish down yet another cup and wave down the servant to refill your cup.

Jacaerys however is too anger to say anything else just angrily shoving some of his chicken in his mouth. His other hand rests on the table clenched in the fist. He should not be so angry. He is embarrassed. Embarrassed that Aegon is most likely right. He was obviously not good at much, he could barely speak Valyrian, could barely control his temper-

A hand gets placed on his clenched fist and any thought in his mind ceases to exist. He looks over at you and he notices that they have just brought you a jug of win seemingly tired of having to walk over and refill your cup. You keep your gaze forward but he notices your clenched jaw and rapid blinking.

He has no clue if he’s right but due to your excessive talking and drinking as well as even your posture he could tell, you were stressed. Your mind was clearly not here, Which is why you were answering any questions throw at you. Why you seemed to not even mind the way the men were eyeing you down at the table. He had no clue why you were, he wishes he did. Wishes he could make it go away, he does not wish to see you so stressed.

He unclenches his fist, twists it around and hesitates before lacing his fingers with yours. He expects you to turn him away, or even glare at him but you don’t. Instead you allow yourself to grip his hand tight and your shoulders drop as you relax and let out a deep sigh.

His skin burns, like the two of your hands together rub together to create electricity which sends shockwaves through his soul. He is surprised your hands are so soft, he had expected them to be a lot rougher due to your excessive sword training but you must wear gloves almost all the time as they look like there are barely any scratches and marks on them, as if you have never even lifted your hands to do anything before. His thumb starts to rub against the back of your hand. He knows its not good to question you. Not that you will give him any answers anyways. but he hopes that you do not have to stress for long.

The tension in the room is much more palpable now. They had stopped grilling you about yourself. You almost want to leave but it would be in bad taste, you know they would fight and rhaenyra would want to leave the keep, you must prevent that from happening. “Do you mind if i ask her to dance?” You snap out of your thoughts and lightly turn in his direction. Haleana had just given a speak and looked rather down. Of course he would want to atleast try to cheer her up. but you know that is not a good idea. So you stand, letting go of his hand and his looks up at you in confusion as you walk over to the small group of people playing music.

You stand awkwardly as a cheerful jig started playing and everyone looks over at you. “Lets,,, dance?” Its a group jig. Everyone looks back and forth at one another. You reach your hand out in helaenas direction and she smiles as she stands up to grab it and jacaerys stands to join you soon after, rhaena baela and lucerys follow. Aegon shakes his head as his mother urges him to get him, she has to give a pointed look at the king before he rolls his eyes and stands, walking over to aemond who shakes his head at him causing Aegon to smile and grip his shirt to drag him with him.

Alicent and rhaenyra watch you all with a smile, even otto and daemon have a pleased look as they watch you all. Jacaerys is shocked you even know this tune, he had thought it was a westerosi tune but he guessed you have been in westeros longer than you have been in essos. The song ends and you all laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. You simply stand and watch all of them with a pleased look. Jacaerys looks at you with a smile and grips your hand tightly. He looked so happy. You wish you felt the same but you felt too much stress to share the same sentiment.

“This makes me so happy. To see you all get along. This is all I've ever wanted.” They all stand around and stare at one another as viserys speaks. Alicent stands and looks to viserys. “Isn’t this a great way to end the night.” Viserys eagerly agrees seemingly exhausted and everyone gives each other hushed goodnights as they walk out the room. You nod at rhaenyra and daemon who grabs your hand and thanks you before leaving. You can feel a gaze on you and turn to see otto staring at you. All you do is give him a dramatic bow your gaze never leaving his face as you walk off to join jacaerys who was waiting for you by the door.

“Allow me to walk you-” “No. I will walk you to your room. I don’t plan on sleeping just yet.” You grab his hand and drag him towards the direction of his room. He says nothing as he watches the back of your head, attempting to keep up with your long fast steps. Soon enough they are standing in front of his room and you do not turn back to look at him, instead breathing deeply and gripping his hand tightly. He turns you around to face him, “Please you must tell me what is wrong? Are you alright?” You shake your head and let go over him reaching down into the potted plant near his room and his eyes widen as he sees the long metal chains in your hands. “My lady..?”

“You will listen to me very closely. You are to tie these around your door, your windows and there is a shelf in the back of your room that you must secure this around as well,” He blinks at you as you shove them in his hands, “I do not understand-” “You must do this i beg of you,” “My lady-” “You will not leave your room. You will not open the door should you hear knocking you will not even answer if you hear one of your own families voice. unless it is my own. No matter what you do or see you will not you must promise me.”

You cannot falter to his puppy eyes. The clock is ticking until things start to explode and you are too worried too stressed, you cannot allow anything happen to him. You cup his cheeks and pull him closer to you, his breath hits your face and his eyes dart around your face. “Y/n…..” “Please jacaerys.”

He gulps. His past dreams and thoughts float their way up to his mind. He wants to kiss you, he is staring at your lips so intensely he is not even answering you. You notice this and sigh, shaking your head. “It is not a good time.” “If the situation is as dire as you make it seem maybe it is the best time.”

“I will kiss you later should you agree.”. Though his heart begins to race at the idea and he almost opens his mouth to eagerly agree he cannot stop the anxiety brewing in his stomach. “But what if you are in danger-” “No. You must stay. Agree to do it.” Your face turns to one of irritation at his continuous refusal. “What if i do not?” You press your face closer to him and he instinctively closes his eyes. “I guess i will just have to drag you to your bed and chain you there. Keep you there all night.” He lets out a shaky breath as you step back. That's all he wants. All he’s been thinking about.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Would you join me?” You shake your head and look at him desperately. “please jacaerys. you must.” “Will you even tell me what this is for.” With you blank look he knows he wont get an answer so he sighs. “I will. as long as you promise to stay safe.”

You freeze. as he looks at you expectantly. He watches you look off to the side and think. He may not know what is going but he can tell you plan on doing something crazy. “I promise.” “do you mean it or are you just saying that.” You give him a flat look and roll your eyes. “I mean it. Kostan daor jikagon, mirri mēre kostagon gūrogon ao hen nyke.” He blinks and tilts his head. “Will you teach me what the things you say mean?”

You look at him once more before you begin to walk backwards, “Goodnight. jacaerys.” “Will you try to get some rest?” You say nothing and just turn your back to him walking off. He watches you until you are far out of his view and attempts to calm his pounding heart as he enters his room. His tub already ready for a bath, he does what you say after waving off a couple maids saying he has no need for them tonight and he wants to go to bed early. He is bad at tying it, he is sure you would be anger if you saw the terrible job he did.

He is unsure as to why you need him to lock up the cabinet in his room but he does it anyways with the most confusion. He strips himself and settles into his bath, its hot. Very hot actually. But it is a nice change from the cold bath he had taken yesterday. You are the only thing he can think about. He wonders what you are doing what is going on. But in a weird way he finds himself trusting you. He has no reason to. You have not shown yourself to be trust worthy. maybe it is the childish part of him or his own selfish desires but he believes you and will do anything you say.

His mind slowly drifts to your dress tonight. The way it flowed as you walked away, the exposed skin where he could see scares all over your legs and back but you still never showed your arms. Was there a reason for that? He wants to know everything about you. He dunks his head under the water as he begins to wonder what you are doing right now.

You stand in your room, back into your black leather outfit as you heart pounds. Looking at the variety of weapons on your table in front of you you hesitate before strapping them onto different spots on your outfit before you stand Infront of your door and freeze. wiping you hands in front of your armor you gulp. This is it. You cannot mess this up, what this has all been leading to. You stand and wait. and wait, and wait and wait and wait for your queue. When you hear the rushing of footsteps outside your door you open it. looking around the hallway before stepping out and swiftly making your way through the corridors with your hood now tossed up.

You were called to the temple about a month ago. it was the highest request from the high priestess herself. Only a few days after you had been elected.

‘There is something you must know. the flames have told me something of great danger.’

You sit in your chair held up above the ground with a bored look on your face. “What could be more important than ruling Essos?” You watch the priestess pace back and forth and sigh.

“The king is going to die soon.”

“That is a shock to no one.”

“no no you must understand they plan to kill the heir.”

This has you sitting up completely with wide eyes. “Whatever are you speaking of?”

“They plan to kill her, her and her children.”

You freeze, blinking slowly. “… her children.”

Jacaerys.

“They plan to gather in the keep. Should they leave war will begin, should they stay they will all die. You must go.”

You play with your dagger that you had tucked into your pocket and look at the priestess with a confident face. “What must i do?”

“They will not do it by their own hands. You must kill them.”

Viserys will be dead in minutes alicent knows this. She watches viserys mutter to himself. She feels sick, sicker than she’s ever felt when he would take her at night, sicker than he had announced to the council he will marry her. She does not want this to happen. She fears what will happen afterwards. The door of the room opens and she stands in shock looking at women who had just entered. “Rhaenyra?” Rhaenyra walks swiftly over to her father ignoring alicent completely and kneels down next to him. “Father?”

Otto walks in the room swiftly after and looks between them all alarmed and walks closer to alicent. “You will be a beautiful queen. I just, wish i could have seen it.” Otto eyes alicent who looks at him. Otto cannot allow this to happen. He already has the means to get rid of them set up, he had not accounted for rhaenyra showing up in this room right now. He can see a danger on the table and grabs it. Alicents eyes widen and she begins to steps towards her father. She does not want rhaenyra to die. That is the last thing she has ever wanted. So she is more than relieved when the door opens to the room once again and otto drops the dagger quickly.

Daemon, unlike rhaenyra who had seemingly ran in here straight from bed still in her night gown, daemon was completely dressed in his leather armor suit with his sword attached to his side quickly making his way over towards rhaenyra to comfort her as she had begun to cry as viserys retold the story of Aegon the conquer once more. Otto internally curses as he knows he cannot act with daemon around. The only real question he has is how did they know to come here? They were meant to be dead asleep in their rooms so the people he hired could come in and deal with them, but what were they doing outside of their room how had they even known to come in here?

Otto gives alicent a look before leaving the room. Alicent begins to worry what otto is going to do. She has no clue but based on what he was about to do she has her worries. But she cannot dwell on that right now she approaches closer to the other two and simply can only watch as viserys passes.

Jacaerys was unable to sleep. His thoughts filled with you, and with worry. What did you seem to be so concerned with? His eyes closed he continues to toss and turn in bed until he hears a thump against the cabinet you had him lock up. He sits up alarmed his eyes widening and heart racing. It continues to thrash until he can hear the sound of gurgling and he can hear what sounds like a body hitting the floor. He wants to get up and check it out but your words ring in his head. He can’t. He is choosing to trust you. he hopes he does not grow to regret this

Alicent is left in a room for the first time since viserys had passed. Daemon and rhaenyra had walked back to their room to mourn maybe an hour ago? She had no clue how much time had truly passed. She finally allows herself to cry. To cry about everything. She swears this is the first time she's cried in years, everything suddenly crashing into her in a sudden wave of anguish. Maybe she had a distain for the man and his blind ignorance of everything but she never truly wanted him to pass.

“Pick up your tears girl there are things we must do.” She looks up towards her father who walks in the room with a satisfied look on his face. “What did you do?” Otto simply shrugged, “What i had to do. There is nothing you can do now it is already done.” Alicent looks angry now, the tear streaks still left on her face as she glares at her father. “The king never would have wanted this!” “The king is dead. Now it is time we move. Come, let us discuss this more privately.”

Otto is horrified to walk into his room to a pile of bodies stacked in the middle of his room the one of the topic having the his back exposed with a familiar skull carved into it. The volantis currency coin honors skull. “That cunt.”

“‘That cunt’ is right.” The two of them jump and like you appeared out of thin air you approach from a far corner of the room. “You.” Otto glares at you and he notices all the blood splotches on your face and he sees the dagger you are holding in your hands, covered in blood.

“Yes, me.” “You have no reason to get involved in this. These are family affairs.” You tilt your head and alicent sees a crazy in your blank eyes she only sees in daemon. It is not clear to her. You do not have a distain for him. You are on the same grounds as him, you probably respect him more than anyone else. She has severely misunderstood you. and now she will pay the consequences for it.

“I have no reason to get involved? They are to be my family. I am to be married to him.” You walk past him and stand directly in front of alicent who looks down. “Here is what is going to happen. You two are going to stop this mindless nonsense. Rhaenyra is going to ascend the throne, daemon will take the position as hand, otto will return to oldtown, Me and jacaerys will take our place in dragonstone, baela and rhaenys will return to driftmark, and you, your children, rhaena and lucerys and the rest of her spawn will stay here.”

“The realm will never accept a women on the throne.” You do not turn back to otto as you address him. your gaze staying strong onto alicent. “They did not seem to have any complaints. Not until you and your Hightower cunts started to spread around that ridiculous rumor about her.”

“You must know it is true,” Alicent hands begin to shake as she speaks, “You cannot truly look at him and think he is of pure blood-” “You will not open your mouth to speak about him again. I let your foolish game go on for too long, it ends today.” Otto stares at the back of your head and scoffs. “You do not truly love the boy do you? You are incapable of love you are nothing but a monster-” “QUIET!” He flinches as you are louder than you've ever been, even during today's trial you had not been so loud.

“You will never speak or even so much as think about him again or else.” His eye twitches as you do not even turn in his direction and keep your gaze on alicent. “You don’t want things to get ugly do you? It would be a shame if something happened to your dear son in oldtown, hmmm what is his name?” You put your hand on your chin in a fake ponder as alicents eyes widen in horror, “Daeron..” “Daeron yes! thats it! it would be terrible should anything happen to him no?” “What have you done?” You open your mouth in a mock horror as your face remains blank, “Why i would never? what a horrible accusation? I just happen to know a few people in oldtown who happen to be willing to do whatever i say.” You get closer to alicents face and stare her down, “It would also be oh so horrible should anyone find out what happened to dear poor Dyane.” “How do you know that?” She whispers to you, she feels like her world is closing in, she feels dizzy and the only thing in her vision is you.

“You may have tried to pay her off but it is best to remember this, i have more. More of everything. More men, more money, more power. You will never win in a fight against me. I am the threat, your worst outcome. You do not wish to toy with me. For i will not kill you, that would be too good of a fate for you. I shall lock you in a room and each day present you with a piece of your children all chopped up day by day night by night until there is nothing left of them and of you because you will be nothing more than an empty shell of yourself.”

She falls to her knees in front of you and when she looks up she sees the closest thing to the stranger. Maybe this is the gods way of punishing her, for trying to change history, for deluding herself in her own self righteousness, It was not all undeserving but she is certainly no saint. She watches as you tilt your head at her and raise your eyebrows. “You will do what i say.” “You did all this for him?” It is the only thing she can find herself to say as you crouch down to be eye level with her. She sees a dark look in your eyes as you lean forward.

“I would do anything for him.”

Knocking at his door came. He does not speak, simply holding his tongue and waiting. “It is me.” He lets out a sigh of relief and quickly rushes towards the door to unlock it and hurriedly lets you in. “My lady, Are you hurt? What has happened?” “You should head to the main hall, The king has passed.” “Grandsire?” He looks over you wide eyed and he grips your arms tightly as he notices the blood. “You are hurt.” You shake your head and for the first time ever he sees you smile. “It is not my blood.” You are so beautiful. He hopes you are forever this happy as you appear to be in this moment.

He is shocked when you grab his face and give him a peck on the cheek. “I told you i would reward you.” “I was thinking of a different kiss my lady.” You raise your brows at him, “I had no clue you were so scandalous my prince. Your grandsire just died.” He smiles and leans himself in to kiss you-

“Jace!” He groans as you step away from him and turn towards the door right as soon as Lucerys stepped into view, out of breathe. “Oh Lady Maegyr.” He bows and you nod your head at him before he looks up at you with wide eyes as he sees the blood on you and looks to jacaerys who is glaring at his brother behind your back. “mother is calling to gather all of us.” “I will meet you in a moment.” He says with intention on finishing what you started. “No he will accompany you there. I must go back to my room but i will meet you all there, if the queen asks for me tell her to start without me.” He glares as you give him a nod swiftly avoid his hand reaching out to grab you.

Lucerys looks at jacaerys who groans and walks out the room with a grumble. He does not even bother to check if his brother is following him. He is more than ready to get whatever needs to be done over with so he can see you again. His mother rushes over and pulls him into a deep hug upon seeing him. “I am so glad you are alright.” he smiles at his mother reassuringly, “i am alright mother, i swear.” After greeting lucerys he walks to stand by daemon who gives him a sly smile. He does not say anything to jacaerys but by the look on his face jacaerys knows he wishes to say something to him.

“Where is Lady Maegyr?” “She had said something about returning to her room. She said to tell you to start without her.” Lucerys answers her quickly. Rhaenyra glances over at jacaerys before simply nodding. She begins to speak about how today will play out, She will be crowned within the next couple hours but before then a personal family only funeral will be held for viserys which is currently being set up. He wishes he could say he is sad to see viserys go but in truth he barely knew the man besides the few times he would speak to him as a young boy.

“My queen.” You walk into the room having changed into a simply black dress, it had been a hand-me-down dress rhaenyra left in your room for you only hours prior and she smiles as she sees you, rushing over to you. “is,,, everything alright?” You know the implications of her question, her worries about the Hightower's and her half siblings and you nod. “It has been taken care of completely do not worry yourself.” She looks at you bewildered at the tone behind your words, “You are not implying what i believe you are…” Her words trail off as alicent walks in somberly dressed in complete black while Aegon trails in behind her looking like the happiest man in the world, a big smile on his face as he stands and bows to rhaenyra, “My queen.” Rhaenyra raises her bows and blinks in shock at his overjoyed appearance and simply nods to him.

Everyone in the room is looking at alicent who does not lift her head or say anything for a few moments before bowing. “My queen.” “There is not need for you to call me that, alicent.” Alicent looks at her hesitantly, the look on her equivalent to that of a kicked puppy before she nods and looks back down. Rhaenyra turns back to everyone else in the room and sighs, “You are all dismissed. You will get ready for the funeral and will be retrieved later.” Everyone floods out back to their rooms to get ready the only one who does not have a somber face is Aegon who practically skips back to his room.

You linger behind for a moment with jacaerys as you look at rhaenyra, “Do you need me?” She simply shakes her head and places her hands on your shoulders. “You have done more for my family than i can even say, please, is there anything i can do for you?” You blink for a moment, unsure of what to do with the sudden praise and simply shake your head. “No my queen. for i already have what i want.” You glance over at jacaerys who blushes at your look and turns away with a cough attempting to push down his smile. He turns around as to not have to face his mother and is instead met by daemon knowing grin and he shakes his head at the young boy.

“Then i can only as you to accept my thanks. and you stand by my family today during the ceremonies.” You nod and bow at her. “It would be an honor my queen.” “You are to be family my dear of course you shall stand with us,” she wraps you in a hug. You stand frozen for a moment, unsure you can recall the last time someone had even hugged you. You hesitantly bring your arms up and wrap them around her. “Maybe later we can discuss you and jacaerys staying at driftmark.” She pulls away after whispering in your ear and nods to dismiss you.

You bow once more before turning to leave, not turning back to look at anyone else and as soon as you step out the door you feel waves of relief crash over you. You had succeeded, they were all alive and well, rhaenyra would be crowned and there would not be any issues from the Hightower’s. You must write to the high priestesses and inform them of your successes but you are suddenly stopped by a frantic rhaenys sprinting towards you with a letter in hand. “Corlys is awake!”

Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hands on his cheeks, “My boy. Today is a big day for not just me you know.” He nods and stands up straight. The past couple years of work he’s done to prepare and the years he knows he will have to prepare even more. “Of course my queen.” She presses her lips against his forehead, “Go get dressed.” He nods and exits swiftly leaving alicent, rhaenyra and daemon to discuss god knows what and makes his way to his room attempting to ignore his growing anxiety.

The funeral is a somber service. You stand by jacaerys and grip onto his hand tightly as viserys corpse burns he hears you muttering prayers to yourself with your eyes closed as the fire grows bigger. He does not know much about the lord of light and its religion, he’ll have to do some research once he has the free time but he knows the importance of fire to you and he pulls you closer to him. You open your eyes and stare at the flames in front of you and lean your head against jacaerys’ shoulder and let the flames take over your light of vision, the lords comfort warming you as you feel like this is a sign from R'hllor himself as the flames get bigger and bigger he is content with your work.

Unlike the funeral the crowning is a much more joyful affair, everyone changing out of their mourning outfits and putting on more regal attire as everyone stands around and watches rhaenyra be crowned. Jacaerys send a weak smile his mothers way as he watches her. Him being named her heir is inevitable at this point. He has begun to shake out of nerves. He is not good enough to do this. He cannot do this. He feels you grab his hand this time expect it is absent of your glove and he sighs at the feeling of your warm skin against his. The feeling of your cold metal rings and your comforting touch manages to calm him down until the end of the ceremony where he lets out a sigh of relief as people begin to flood away.

“You must accept my apologies my queen for i must leave.” It was the grand feast afterward rhaenyra looks over to you in shock, you had just given her your congratulations and she places down cup she had been sipping from. “Is something the matter?” “Lord corlys has awoke your grace, the situation at stepstones is too dire for me to ignore any longer.” Jacaerys walks over to from leaving his place by lucerys to stand by you, “You are leaving?” You stare at him with a sadden look before you look down at the floor. “I must.” He attempts to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach at the thought of you having to return to war. The two of you have not even gotten to discuss the rapid change in your relationship, if he can even call it one.

“I do not wish for you to go.” He grabs your hands in his and whispers to you. You look at him with a conflicted look and shake your head. “I will return to you. Wait for me?” He nods. He will, he will wait until the end of time for you to come back. So only a few minutes later he watches with a bitter heart as you get on a horse and give him one last final look before you ride off, it takes everything in him not to chase after you. Daemon places his hand on his shoulder and turns him so they can walk back inside together. “Will she be alright?” Daemon is quiet for a moment, “That is a ridiculous question. She is a warrior, she will live.”

It has been over a month since he’s last seen you. Since he’s been struggling with his thoughts and feelings about you. His mother had sent him to dragonstone to take up his place in the ancestorial seat. It was tough to be so far away from his brothers and parents but he did his duty day by day. He wrote to you once but as always did not receive a response. You confused him, You seemed to content with him but you continue to ignore him. He does not understand you.

So his confusion only grows as some of your footmen arrive in dragonstone one day with boxes full of items. “It is the triarchs things Lord Velaryon.” “You bring them here?” “The triach has requested it.” He simply nods and allows them to bring the things in, He is shocked to see how many boxes their truly was. He had never assumed you were the type to care about material goods. “A lot of them are dresses my prince.” A servant tells him as he sees Jacaerys eyeing the boxes, “It is much colder here than it is in Essos so the lady had to have many new clothes made for her to wear here.” Jacaerys lets out an ah as he roams around the boxes, of course, he head heard how hot it is in Essos, apparently Volantis is the hottest out of them all. He shakes his head as it begins to be filled with him trying to imagine what you typically wear back at home. You must not be as covered up as you are here. You probably wear anything at all.

“Do you two plan to share a chamber or do you have a separate room for the lady?” This snaps jacaerys out of his thoughts and he begins to think it over. It would be inappropriate for you two to share a chamber before you are married, but the selfish part of him wishes for when you return back to him for you to stay with him, it makes him sick a the idea of you staying in a separate room from him. But he knows he must do the appropriate thing, tell him he will have a separate room prepared for him. “We will share the main chamber.” Yet he cannot. The servants nod and begin to move the boxes towards the main chamber.

The hour turns late and the sun has since set until your people finally leave with a bow and all your stuff has been placed all over what was once just his chambers. He is at first overwhelms by the smell of you but he soon smiles to himself as he walks around the room. He did not have much stuff, he was never one for material goods but you however had many little trinkets and decorations placed all over the room. He notices a large vase in the room filled with beautiful red roses, he sees a tapestry of the symbol of the lord of light hanging near the bed, he notices the closet the once looked bare now completely filled with a variety of custom made dresses. He walks around the room with a smile on his face as he admire all the little signs of you all ober the room.

What does catch his attention however is a box places on the bedside table. It is a plain wooden box with no clear sighs of what would be in it. He should not open it. He should walk away and leave your personal stuff alone but he cannot stop himself from opening it. He is greeted by a sight he did not expect. Anything he had ever given you, from the letters, the flowers his mother forced him to pick and give to you, even his handkerchief he had lent you one time, everything laid neatly and organized inside the box. he picks up the letters and swipes through them. He is shocked that you had even opened them so much as kept them, he has sworn to himself you had thrown them away. But if you kept them why did you never respond? You continue to confuse his mind and his heart.

“And i thought it was improper to look through someone else's things.” He freezes as he hears the voice he’s been waiting to hear for over a month now. Whipping his head around he sees you, standing clad in your armor shaking your head at him with a soft smile on your face. “And imagine my surprise when the maids told me my stuff was placed in your chambers at the princes request. I never knew you were so scandalous my prince.” He quickly stands and to get a good look at you. You looked like not even a day had passed, just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. He hesitantly smiles. as you walk over to him and take the letters out of his hands and gently place them back in the box like they were your most prized possession.

“You kept them?” You nod as you close up the box and pick it up. “of course i did.” “But you never responded.” This has you looking down and turning away from him. “I did not think you wanted me too.” This has him laughing awkwardly as he watches you closely. “Whatever do you mean?” You place the box on the windowsill and turn back towards him, fiddling around with your armor. “I, am not very good at,” You put your hands back and forth between the two of you, “This. all i would do is mess it up.” He walks closer to you and he can feel his heart pounding, he wants you to mean what he thinks you mean. “Why do you think so?” “My father was a very strict man, he taught me that being friendly will get me nowhere, men don’t like talkative women. So when all you seemed to do was want to talk to me. I was scared.”

He feels his heartbreak. He thinks back onto your brief interactions that month ago and he begins to feel guilty. You just had no clue how to talk to him no matter how much you wished to. and whenever you would try he would say something rude to you. He feels like shit. “I am so sorry. What can i do to make it up to you?” You tilt your head at him in confusion, “Whatever did you do?” “I had been so rude to you-” “It is of no ones fault other than my own.” “That is certainly not true, you have been so so kind to me. to my family. and i have been nothing but a piece of shit.” You giggle at his foul language and shake your head. “Then we are both at fault.”

The two of you laugh. He is so happy. He had been feeling lonely this last month it is so nice to finally be with someone else, especially since it is you. “How is stepstones?” “The war is done. for now atleast, who knows when they could come crawling back up.” “So do you plan on returning to Essos?” “I will be staying here.” “Aren't you one of the rulers of Essos?” “They will be just fine without me, should anything dire come up you should come with me.” “truly?” “You ever been?” “no. but i have always wanted to see it.” You squeeze his hands as you stare at him, “Then i will take you. I will take you anywhere you wish to go.”

His eyes drop to your lips. He is dying to kiss you. He must. He will not live a second longer if he does not. “May i kiss you my lady?” You grip his cheeks and pull him to you. The second your lips tough he feels like he has been lit on fire. Everything else in the world fades as the only thing he can see and think about is you. Your lips move together like the perfect song, working in perfect sync in harmony to create something glorious. He does not want to pull away not even when his lungs begin to hurt from the lack of air he continues to kiss you. He never wants this moment to end. But it does when the two of you separate, breathing heavily. You look at him and he can see the wanting glaze over your eyes, it is unbelievable he is able to control himself.

He tried to pull you back into him once more but you put your hand between your lips. “If this is truly going where i believe it is going can you allow me to bath first? I do not wish to smell like fish and blood and shit.” He shakes his head as he tried to pull you back in, too greedy to even let you slip from his grasp for a second. “I do not mind.” “But i do. Please.” He groans and lets you go as much as he does not wish to. “Fine.” “Do you wish to wash me?” His eyes widen at the idea and his mouth might have even begun to water. “I do not know my lady. Is that a good idea?” “If the prince was not so scandalous it might not be but maybe i was wrong to suggest it.” “I will do as you ask.” “You are a fool.” “Your fool.” He watches as you flush at his words and he calls for the maids to draw you a bath.

He can not help but stare at you as you take off your amour. The leather pieces pilling up on the table as you relieve more and more of yourself to him. It could be poetic, but jacaerys can’t think about anything else like that right now. Not when you stand in front of him, he turns away when you begin to slide off your under clothes. “You do not wish to look at me?” “I am nervous to what i will do when i do my lady.” You say nothing in return but he hears a couple more items drop to the floor and your footsteps on the ground walking towards the bathroom. “Are you going to bath me or not?”

He quickly stands and his hands shake as he makes his way towards the bathroom. He is surprised his knees do not buckle under him as he sees you. Sitting in the tub, steam hitting you oh so perfectly and your bare arms rests against the sides of the tub and he finally sees you fully. “Pick your jaw off the floor my prince.” He can not. He wishes to get on his knees and worship you, he swears he has never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of you. he had thought the most gorgeous you could look is when he saw you in that dress but you look so much better here.

He hesitantly walks over to the bath and kneels right next to you. He grabs the soap and grabs your arm as you carefully watch him. He lightly turns your arm so he can get a full few of the tattoos on your arm. It is a beautifully intricate dragon, it almost completely covers your whole forearm and he can see you have a matching one on your other arm. “What are they for?” “In Volantis when you are of old blood it is customary for you to get dragon tattoos on your arm to symbol your relation to Valyria.” He traces the design with his fingers, admiring the art and the act of you showing this part of you to him. He places a kiss on the dragons head before he begins to lather your arm in soap.

No more words are spoken between the two of you as he washes your back, then your other arm before he moves onto grabbing your hair products and running his fingers through your hair and scratches his nails into your scalp. He hears you hum, your eyes closed in delight and he gulps as he begins to throb against his pants. He watches as you dunk your head under the water to get the product out and you sit back up, looking at him as you run your hands down your face to push away the water. “Why don’t you join me? It would be easier for you to clean me if you were also in here.” He hesitates, nerves build up in his stomach as he opens his mouth but no words come out. “Are you sure my lady?” You smile and nod at him, leaning your head back against the tub to watch him.

He stands and begins to unbutton his tunic, tossing it into some corner of the room. Unlike him you do not take your eyes off him as his bare chest comes into view or even when he begins to unbutton his pants. “My lady is very shameless.” “Is it so wrong i look at you?” He shakes his head before he hesitantly pulls down his pants and he is suddenly standing bare in front of you. He hisses as he cock jumps up to slap him in the stomach leaving you to laugh before he hurriedly moves to sit across from you. The tub is big enough for the two of you to sit side by side but he does not even dare to come that close to you. “You still have a job to do.”

He picks back up the soap and drags it over your collarbone. He watches as the soap bubbles slide down to lay on your breasts and groans to himself as he continues to scrub your down. Ignoring your breasts he instead focuses on your stomach and sides. It feels so intimate, to rub his hands all over your body especially when you continue to let out your own hums of pleasure.

He runs his finger along the long scar down your chest and stomach. “It was a gift from my father. When i turned of age and he found out i was able to be elected. People had begun to suggest i should be nominated in his place. He made sure i would be bedridden for months. They could not nominate me that year.” He leans his head down and presses a kiss against the top of the scar at your neck. “I am glad he is already gone for i would have to deal with him myself.” You reach your hand on his arm and smile at him, nothing more is said but the look in your eyes says enough.

He tries his best to not look between your legs as he washes your legs one by one, he does not allow himself to linger at your thighs before he swiftly pulls his hands away from you. His hands burning as if he had just touched the sun. The bath was now cold. The two of you simply laid their for awhile before you sat up and grabbed his face. “Thank you my prince.” “Jacaerys, jace, not my prince.” You press your lips against his and he groans. The kiss is full of much more fever and desperation this time. He barely believes this is real. He must be imaging this as he had over a moon ago.

You take your hands away from his face and slide them down his chest as he feels your tongue prodding against his mouth he pulls back suddenly causing you to freeze. “Did i do something wrong?” He shakes his head, out of breath as he speaks, “No no nothing wrong. I have imagined this far too often for it to be anything wrong. it is just, i am very sensitive and if you touch me just once i will not be able to perform again.” He hopes you understand what he means. He hopes you know you are not rejecting him, but he wishes for this to go right, and if he is being selfish he does not wish to watch his seed float around in the water but instead flow out of you.

He watches as you stand up and he cranes his head up to look at you. You are the pure image of beauty. He could die now and be content with how he lived for simply getting to breath and stand in your presence is enough for him. He watches as you step out of the tub and he cant help but stare at your ass as you turn your back and walk out of the room, you turn your neck and look at him. “Are you coming?” He quickly stands and follows after you, neither of you bothering to care about the dripping water all over the bathroom and the bedroom. You have sat down on the bed and hold out your hand to pull him on top of you.

He pulls you into another kiss as the two of your skins press against each other. He feels so hot. He hands press against your face as he opens his mouth and allows the two of your tongues to intertwine with one another. His lips leave yours as they instead they begin to trail down your jaw and down your neck as his hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. The two of you stay like that for awhile, and expected to stay like that the whole time but are more than shocked when he grips your hips tightly and flips you around so you are on top and he is on the bottom, you sitting directly over his abs. When you look down at him in confusion he simply smiles at you.

“It is only right you are above me, for you are a goddess who deserves to be worshipped.” His hands slide up your stomach and begin to fondle your breasts as you throw your head back and moan. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt iksan naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao” he easily recognizes the words. The same ones you had told him in the library that faithful day in the keep. “What does it mean?” You moan as he thumbs begin to flick against your nipples and look down at him. “do not give away your sweet words so easily for i am willing to tear down the stars and the sky for you.”

He can not respond, not when he watches as your hips begin to move along his abs, fuck, he can see you essence leaving a trail on him as you use him for your own pleasure. He would let you, use him all day, any day, if it meant he would get to hear the sounds you are currently making, the way your face twists in pleasure with your eyes closed. “Have you ever touched yourself my lady?” You let out a meek hum as you throw your head back, he's hands move from your breasts to your hips to help guild you. “I have Jace, everyday, i can not help it for i am thinking of you.” He lets out his own string of curses at your admission. He watches as you reach one of your hands to your folds and your moans only get louder.

He wants to do that. He wants to know every inch of you to be able to pleasure you in all ways he can. He wants to be the reason you get louder, he wishes for you to desire him, to have to need him like air like he needs you. “Teach me how to do that.” He is more than happy when you remove your own hand and grab his, moving it to slide under you and he curses as he feels your wetness dripping on him. “Are you supposed to be that wet?” “It is because of you Jace.” He feels you move his fingers to push past your folds and he can feel a hard bulb under this fingertips. “That. touch that Issa jorrāelagon (my love),” You moan as you feel his rougher fingers begin to press against it. “In circles, ugh yes like that, you can press harder.”

The roughness of his fingertips feel much better than your own fingers and you can’t help but move your hips faster against him. His fingers move faster against your clit and you can feel the burning in your stomach grow larger. “Issa jorrāelagon, im gonna make a mess.” He groans at your words and uses one hand to move your faster and the other hand to continue to play with your clit. “Please do, fuck, I want to see it, fuck.” Can a man cum untouched? He has no clue but the way his cock is throbbing he swears he is about to burst at simply watching your pleasure. He feels the rush of liquid begin to pool and cover his hand. He moves his fingers and moves them towards your opening as he can not get over the way it feels, the hot liquid pooling over his fingers.

You jump when he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, hissing as he shoves your own cum back inside of you as he touches your gummy walls. “Jace,,,” You moan out as your head drops forward to stare at his wrist. He says nothing but moans as he begins to thrust his fingers in out, barely pulling them out before he shoves them right in. He is fueled by your moans, the way your hands claw at his chest as he is simply amazed by you. You do not know if your walls are covered with your own essence or your own cum as he adds another finger and presses them against your walls.

He wishes to memorize you, to keep this locked tight in his memory for him to look back on. He can barely believe what he is doing and hopes he is doing it right. But when you begin to move against his fingers he knows he must be doing something right. The only words you speak are his name, over and over again as he fingers begin to move faster and faster inside you. The pit in your stomach grows once again and your begin to drag your nails down his chest in pleasure. “I am about to cum jace.” He says nothing this time only moving his free hand to play with your clit which sends you over the edge. He does not remove his fingers are stop his movements simply enjoying the withering pleasure you are feeling

“Please Jace i wish to feel your cock.” This has him removing his hands and you hiss at the sudden emptiness. You watch as he places each of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, like your own taste is his own personal pleasure. His eyes are cloudy in a haze as he watches you sit up with shaky knees and adjust grab his dick in your hands. He moans as you rub your thumb over his tip, spreading around his precum and pressing down against it. “Do not tease me y/n please.”

He watches as you sit right above him, you sink down low enough that just his tip is rubbing against your folds. You use his tip to push your folds aside and slowly you begin to sink down onto his cock. If he was told this is how it felt after he died he would have believed it. He has never felt a greater pleasure than he has right now. He understands why people consider this act sinful, for everyone would be doing it everyday if it were not. He watches his cock slowly disappear and he lets out a whimper as you sit all the way down.

He can see the dent in your stomach and reaches his hand to touch it. This was unbelievable. He stares at you, the way you look down at his hand and cover it with your own, pressing down causing him to groan and you to moan. Unconsciously you readjust yourself, lifting yourself on him just so slightly just to slide back down and he curses.

That felt so good, he wants you to do that again. “Can i move?” You are clearly as desperate as he is and he hears it in your voice. “fuck please my lady please.” Your hips lift and you come crashing back down onto him. The bed underneath you rocking with the action as you do it over and over and over again. Slowly at first but you begin to create a rhythm as his hands grab your tits to squeeze them.

The room is filled with the sounds of your slamming against him, the wet sounds of him pushing into you and your combined moans. If this made him a sinner so what? He was not religious and he would refuse any god that said this was not the most holy and pleasurable thing to do on earth. He begins to move his hips up to meet yours and he watches your face contort. “We must do this, ugh, everyday.” You nods feverishly as both of his hands moving to your hips to help you bounce faster as his hips begin to harsh slam up into you. “Yes, everyday, every night, ughh, everywhere,” You let out an especially high pitched whimper as he begins to toy with your clit. “All over the castle.”

Yes he would like that, so much. He can see it now, the way he would allow you to sit on the throne as he pounded into you. The way you would sit under the table during meetings and suck him dry while he attempts to maintain his composure, fuck he’ll do this everyday of his life for as long as he lives. He can feel that familiar feeling brewing ever so close in his stomach, “are you close my lady?”

You let out a rush of hushed yes’s as you begin to move faster. “Cum with me my lady, cum please.” You let out more yes’s as he feels you throbbing around his cock causing him to burst. You cry out at the feeling of his hot seed spilling webs inside you as he suddenly flips you around and continues to pound into you as your back hits the bed. “Cum my lady, fuck.” The change of angles hits you so well along with the sounds of wetness splashing below you as he cock pushes his cum deeper inside you and all around your walls.

You suddenly splash over him with a cry and your back arches off the bed. He can feel you hit his upper stomach, all over his thighs and even his chest. You looked so beautiful, the way your eyes shut closed so tight there were crinkles around your eyes and the way your teeth and jaw clenched as he feels you continue to pulse against him, liquid trickling around his cock and out to drip on the bed.

He leans his forehead against yours and the two of you just lay there for awhile. attempting to catch your breathes. He brings one of his hands to caress your cheek and you open your eyes to look at him. “Jace.” “I love you.” You smile, a wide grin fills you face as you chuckle. “I have loved you for a long time Jacaerys.” He kisses you lightly and the two of you simply lay like that until you fall asleep. sharing pecks and tiny whispers of admiration. He can barely believe he got so lucky end up with a woman like you. Someone who loved him so much they would do to the ends of the known world for him even if he had said some cruel things to you. He loved you he loved you he loved you and he was so happy you loved him too.

a.n: This is genuinely the most crazy project of my whole writing career LMAO if you've made it this far i really want to say thank you. It's because of the endless support I've gotten on my recent stuff that really gave me the confidence to write something like this. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS i love you all so much <3

perm jacaerys taglist: <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

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wttcsms · 8 months

Text

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader word count 3.9k synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course).

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at.

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with.

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him.

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him.

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work.

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about.

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru.

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard.

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.”

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.”

Ouch.

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less.

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.”

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him.

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes.

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.”

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects.

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.”

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself.

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional.

“I would, but I have standards.”

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum.

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him.

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?”

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is.

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge.

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.”

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating.

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.

“I could commit if it’s you.”

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came.

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.”

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.”

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage.

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.”

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides.

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?”

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously.

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him.

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships.

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.”

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.”

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh.

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.”

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are.

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle.

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug.

“Done.”

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second.

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.”

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick.

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier.

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort.

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.”

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.”

“Maybe I’m her blessing.”

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it.

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted.

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it.

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job.

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.”

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?”

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.”

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko.

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out.

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing.

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has.

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best.

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day.

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

#satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #fluff #one shot #jjk x reader #smut #fic series: balancing act

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bleedingoptimism · 11 months

Text

𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚

part 1

“You look pale,” Jeff comments making Eddie snort loudly.

Of course he looks pale, he’s got vampirism, doesn't he? But then again, so does Jeff and he looks great.

“When was the last time you fed?” He asks.

Eddie sighs heavily trying to reign in his bad mood. He knows Jeff’s just worried and wants to help, and he’s grateful to have run into an old friend from high school as soon as he moved into the big city.

Because he’d be utterly lost without him.

He doesn't know where anything is, he gets lost in the subway, and he has no idea when he’s being charged too much for a muffin or suspiciously too little for a hotdog, or where all the blood markets are.

“Like, two weeks ago,” Eddie finally answers.

Jeff looks surprised but it’s not actually that bad, people with vampirism can go up to 4 to 5 weeks without blood.

It’s not the same as those vampires from movies and books, they still eat food and they can stand in the sun with just minor cases of sunburn. There’s also the light sensitivity, making them all look like assholes wearing sunglasses everywhere.

Also, they are not allergic to garlic. Which, thank the heavens because Eddie loves garlic, a lot.

There’re a couple of side effects that do come in handy sometimes, like augmented hearing and smell. And the healing spit is super weird but nifty. No super strength regrettably, that would’ve been awesome.

Anyways, it’s like they have super anemia or something.

“I went to a blood bar, hooked up with some dude but. I didn't have a good time, at all. I kind of don't want to go back to bars for a while,” He elaborates and when Jeff frowns worried, he shakes his head,

“No, not like that. It’s just… the dude was like way too into it, you know? It kinda freaked me out.”

“What do you mean? Don't you find it hot? When you feed?” Jeff asks him, curious.

Eddie nods quickly, “Yes, of course I do! It can be really sexy with the right person, but this guy, he was like- like way too loud and like, he was faking it? I don’t for who, though. And halfway through it, I started getting worried I’d accidentally hired someone instead of just hooked up and I didn’t have any money, and then I started thinking about money and my dick-”

“Ok! Ok, I get it.” Jeff thankfully interrupts him. “Dude, why didn’t you say something, I know of a place. I didn’t mention it before because it’s kind of boujee and handles itself a little differently.”

“Oh? Do tell” Eddie tells him excitedly, he loves going to new places, especially if they are weird.

“Well, it’s real private, like ‘can’t get in unless you are on the list’ private. And it’s run by this girl. Blonde little thing, super cute. Scary as fuck. Everyone calls her ‘The Boss’” he says doing air quotes.

“Dramatic, I like it.” Eddie smiles.

Jeff chuckles, “So the gist of it it’s you go there and just hang out normally, like any other kind of bar. The place is beautiful, the music is good, and the drinks are delicious. But what's interesting about this place is the hostesses,” he says and even does a little pause for effect before continuing, “Similar to a blood bar there’re people there willing to be fed on but what’s cool about it is they get to choose.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “That sounds kind of fun, actually.”

“Right? And it feels, safer somehow? For them?” Jeff agrees and Eddie nods and smiles at him, waiting for him to keep going.

“Anyway, the hostesses choose and then you get to go upstairs and talk through what you want to happen, just feeding, sex, talking, anything they agree to, it's on the table. I once ended up just playing a game of Uno with the girl I fed on and two other hostesses that hadn't picked anyone that night.” he finishes and Eddie laughs delightedly.

“Ok, this place sounds amazing, what’s the catch?”

“Well, you have to pay an entry fee, the drinks are expensive and there’s always the possibility you’ll leave empty-handed. The first time is free though,” Jeff says.

“Like drugs,” Eddie replies and Jeff nods solemnly,

“You know the hostesses can be kind of addicting.”

…

That night, on the way there, Jeff tells him they have to sign a guest list at the entrance,

“No one uses their real name, not because the place is shady or anything! But because they want to leave that choice to us and the hostesses if you ever get too close with one. It's not like, frowned upon.”

Eddie nods listening intently, he feels kind of nervous in a way he hasn't in a while, but he’s not sure why.

“Also, secret nicknames are fun! I’m known as Jay there. So please don’t dox me. Or yourself.” Jeff tells him.

After careful consideration, Eddie smiles and says, “I’ll be… Strider”

“Nerd”

“Shut up, you are just jealous you didn't come up with it yourself”

Jeff laughs, “You got me there,” he says, and then, “We are here” and he opens a big glass windowed door and vows to Eddie, inviting him in.

Eddie chuckles and enters and immediately almost runs into someone—a tall, massive guy with short curly hair and the shadow of a beard.

“Hey freak,” Jeff greets calmly, “He’s with me,”

Eddie cringes at the nickname, bad memories from high school bullying. But the dude just nods and gives Jeff the tiniest of smiles, so he figures it’s the nickname the bouncer chose for himself.

They enter and sign their name in the guest book, a girl about their age with dirty blond hair and hundreds of freckles on her nose and cheeks is there and she asks Eddie a couple of questions. Not in a weird way, but in a ‘you are new and I’m curious’ kind of way.

Eddie feels comfortable and excited as they go in.

Jeff was right, the place is beautiful. The lobby leads to a big room with high ceilings and fake candle-lit lamps. The chairs and tables are antiques and all different but roughly the same time period so they look good together. There’re old signs and posters from all kinds of drinks and different products adorning the walls. And the music is instrumental and oldie too, sounds like probably 40s or 50s.

It is incredibly boujee. But in a fun way, cozy and warm.

They get a seat at a small round table in a corner and Jeff lets Eddie look around for a while before asking,

“So? Weird right? It’s like stepping into another time,”

Eddie snorts, “Yeah, one that has no idea which time period it wants to repre- who is that?”

Jeff looks at where Eddie is looking and sighs, “Of course you noticed Sunshine,”

“Sunshine?” Eddie sighs.

“That’s what they call him. Because apparently he smells like flowers and summer and tastes like orgasms or something,” Jeff says amused rolling his eyes.

The guy, Sunshine, is probably the prettiest person he’s ever seen in his life, definitely the most beautiful man in this room. His face is a contradiction of sharp and round angles that is just absolutely perfect, and he’s wearing a black suit that clings to his body like a second skin, showing off his big shoulders and his tiny waist. He’s looking around the room with big, brown eyes that look bored as he leans against a wall like he’s above it all, he’s a fucking dream.

Eddie swallows audibly and looks smirking at Jeff for a second before his eyes drift back to the man, “Tastes like what, you said” he teases and Jeff snorts.

“Not that anyone would know, as far as I know, he’s never taken anyone upstairs,” he tells Eddie in a conspiratory tone.

That makes him incredibly curious, “Really? Why is he still here then?”

“I don’t know for sure, mostly rumors but he’s the boss’s favorite, that’s for sure. Oh!” Jeff exclaims and then nods his head to a girl sitting on the other side of the room, in a big fancy-looking chair that looks more like a throne than a simple piece of furniture.

She’s got blonde hair up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a flowery dress but there's something about the way she looks around the room, something about the way people walk around her and look at her, with respect or fear, or maybe both. She’s fucking intimidating.

While Eddie’s looking, the girl from the front desk, with the freckles, comes to sit on a small stool beside the “throne”, there’s another one on the other side that’s empty. The blonde girl moves her hand towards freckles and she kisses it and then her shoulder and smiles as she leans in closer and starts whispering to her.

It’s kind of surreal.

“That’s The Boss, and the girl from the entrance, that’s Sparrow. She’s her girl.” Jeff explains.

“Respect for looking scary in a sundress,” Eddie comments.

And Jeff nods, “Anyways my theory is, Sunshine is actually just a bodyguard and not a hostess but the people that come here like to think they actually have a chance with him, so no one says anything to the contrary.”

Eddie snorts and nods, it makes sense. It's actually very good marketing, just like the ‘the first one is free’ thing. That boss girl is really smart with her business.

Jeff and he get a few drinks and they chat calmly, Jeff isn't looking to go upstairs tonight, he only came by to accompany Eddie and Eddie knows he should be looking around, trying to make eye contact with someone, but he can stop staring at Sunshine.

He even looked at their table at one point, and Eddie thought he was going to faint. He was scanning the room as he apparently does every couple of minutes when he caught Jeff’s eye and Jeff lifted his hand in greeting.

And Sunshine’s face completely transformed, his bored calculating expression changed into a beautiful smile that made his eyes shine. He wiggled his fingers at Jeff cutely before going back to looking like fucking Droopy Dog. If Droopy was the sexiest motherfucker alive. It was amazing to see.

Eddie’s jaw almost hit the table and he turned to look at Jeff stunned and he just shrugged,

“Sunshine was one of the hostesses I ended up playing Uno with. He’s fucking vicious,” he says smiling at the memory.

Eddie chuckles as his eyes follow Sunshine moving across the room, he just can't. Stop. Looking.

But the thing is, Sunshine is looking back now. Keeping eye contact with him obviously and unashamed. It’s thrilling and it makes shivers run down his spine.

He watches as Sunshine sits on the stool on the other side of The Boss’s throne and grabs her hand and holds it, intertwining their fingers.

The Boss and her girl turn and look at him and the three of them start whispering, looking at him.

“Dude,” he says and turns to Jeff to see if he’s seeing what he’s seeing.

Jeff looks from him to the whispering party, “Un fucking believable, first time here and tonight is the night Sunshine is taking someone upstairs” he says looking fed up, but clearly in a joking manner.

“Is that what you think it’s happening? No way,” Eddie shakes his head as Sparrow says something that makes The Boss chuckle but Sunshine speaks up and she sobers up immediately. Curious.

“He’s looking right at you, he probably went to ask Sparrow about you,” Jeff insists.

“Maybe he’s looking at you”

“He’s seen me before,” Jeff scoffs.

He’s about to reply but their conversation gets interrupted by someone shily clearing their throat. A girl, a hostess, is looking at him with curious eyes, and shit… she’s cute and looks like a nice person but, Eddie can’t- he needs to know what those looks from Sunshine meant.

He needs him.

He looks back at the group quickly to see Sunshine and The Boss in deep conversation and Sparrow… is she glaring at him?

He rejects the girl, as nicely as possible and Jeff scoffs and murmurs ‘unbelievable’ under his breath again as Eddie turns to look back at Sunshine.

Who is walking toward them, holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Jeff says and then moves to stand. Eddie grabs his wrist and tries to pull him back.

“Wait what are you doing, dont-” But Jeff frees himself and starts walking away,

“Good luck!” He sings songs and then leaves him alone.

part 1: you are here

part 2: 👄

part 3: 🩸

bonus content: ☀️

ao3: 🌙

art: 🦇

coffee?☕🥐💕

#stranger things #steddie #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #i wrote something

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flawdchaos · 20 days

Text

Lips of an Angel

Lando Norris x Reader

based on lips of an angel by hinder (if you haven’t heard this song pls listen to it because it’s a banger and this is heavily based on it.)

tw: angst, kinda sorta cheating, reader and lando being dummies

a/n - hi friends, this is my first time writing for f1. i’ve written before on here and took a break to study on class work. i’ve fallen back into my f1 phase and dreamt this up on the way into work tonight. i hope you enjoy, feel free to give me feedback. thank you xx

word count - 1500 (ish)

Lando’s room illuminated from the soft glow of his phone on the bedside table, buzzing against the base of the lamp. He moved as delicately as he could, careful to not wake the girl sleeping on his chest, to see who could be calling so late. He rubbed his eyes and squinted reading the name across his screen, the name he chose to disguise Y/N’s contact.

JULIE - MARKETING.

He slid out from under the girl, tiptoeing to the hallway before whispering a hello through the phone.

“Lando?” the voice shook through the phone. “Lando, I’m sorry.” he could hear it now, the sniffles and uneven breaths - she was crying. He crept down the hallway a bit more in an attempt to gain distance from his bedroom and sleeping companion.

“Y/N, why are you crying? Is everything alright?” he whispered, being met with only sniffles. “I’m in the living room. I have to whisper. What’s wrong?” He was growing impatient in her silence, the worry growing each minute he was on the phone call.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this - this pretending. I want you for myself. Call me selfish,” she took a deep breath in “, but I deserve you - not her.”

She had never been this brash before but he couldn’t blame her. After months of secret conversations, shared glances, and hugs that lingered just a little too long - he had to agree with her.

What they shared wasn’t meant to happen in the first place. Lando and Y/N had been in the same friend groups for years, only knowing each other mutually. It stayed that way until one night when they found themselves alone at the bar, friends having left long ago. One too many drinks and the heavy hand of the bartender led them back to Lando’s flat in London. They agreed the next morning, for the sanctity of their ‘friendship’ it would never happen again - but, they were both lying to themselves and they knew it. One night turned into two and before they realized it, the rest of Lando’s winter break was shared mostly in the sheets of his bed. It was only when he was leaving back to Monaco that things came to a halt abruptly. No conversation or discussion of what the hell had just happened over the past few months, just radio silence on both ends. It was an unspoken ending between the two.

That was until a couple months later and during Lando’s first podium of the season that he found himself wishing she were there to celebrate with him. Drunkenly, he debated his options and finally decided to send her a text telling her just how much he missed her and the things they would do. His text sat unattended in her messages for the rest of the night because while Lando was thinking of her, she was doing everything she could to forget about him - and this included making the same trek home from the bar with a stranger. Come morning the only thing the pair was left with was regret.

Y/N was the first to reach back out again after his crash in Las Vegas. She couldn’t admit to her friends just how shaken it had her but she tossed and turned in the bed for over an hour before picking up her phone.

Glad you’re okay. Try to stay out of the wall next time, yeah?

Her name lighting up his phone had his heart beating almost as fast as the adrenaline of crashing did. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as his mind raced on what to say. It was late in the UK so his response would probably go unnoticed until the morning. Or - had she stayed up that late to watch him race? Or should he say crash.

“What’s got you stumped, mate?” Max’s voice broke him from his daze as he glanced over his shoulder. “Y/N, aye? Just admit it.”

Lando’s head shot up to meet Max’s stare. “Admit what?”

“That you’re fucking whipped. I’ve seen you stalking her instagram.”

Something about Max’s words ignited a feeling within him. For the first time in his “playboy” career - Lando Norris was scared of his feelings.

—

It wasn’t long after the Las Vegas Grand Prix that Y/N had noticed a shift in Lando. He was almost nonexistent on her social media - no likes, hearts or story views. She chalked it up to the busy life he lived but when she clicked through his ‘close friends’ instagram story, her heart fell to her stomach. Lando had his arms wrapped around another girl, lips pressed against her cheek in front of a mirror. All of her questions and doubts were confirmed with a simple click and despite him owing her anything, she felt betrayed. Y/N couldn’t deny it anymore - the time she had spent with Lando was a whirlwind and no matter how many nights she spent curled up in bed, their bodies pressed together, she was always left wanting more.

On the mornings she woke before him, which had been every morning except two, she had found herself tangled in his arms feeling safe and secure. The true depth of her feelings came to be when she slowly awoke one morning to Lando running his arms down hers and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, vowing to return shortly. He stuck true to his promise when he crept back into the bedroom, two cups of tea tucked safely in his hands. She realized then that a small snippet of a domestic life with Lando was all she ever wanted but when he spoke again, the reality of their situation came back into play.

“Max is coming over in an hour to set up some stuff for the new Youtube video. I don’t mean to rush you but I figured our secret was still between us.” She nodded and hummed before taking another sip of her tea.

“Sure thing. I’ll be gone as soon as we finish our tea.”

Y/N finally realized, after viewing Lando’s story, that she had to move on. Find somebody to distract her from the replays of her intimate moments shared with Lando - and so she did. The pair both settled into mediocre “relationships” to distract themselves from the constant longing they had for each other. Subtle posts made to stories in hopes to cause jealousy in each other were made almost weekly. Lando had been seeing a girl one of his mates had set him up with, and Y/N had met a guy at a bar in London on a girls night out. Neither of them were unhappy, per se, but nothing matched the energy that the pair had shared before. On nights after rough races and a few drinks, Lando would have dreams that the girl in his arms wasn’t who had been currently seeing but Y/N instead. One dream had sent him over the edge and he had called her that night to hear her voice.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. His longing was quickly turning into regret as he realized this was probably a mistake before her soft voice filled the phone, she was whispering.

“Lando?” his heart was racing at the mere sound of her voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to wake you.” he said, hand raising to his mouth as he started biting at his fingernails.

“It’s okay, are you alright?”. She was still whispering.

“Uhm,” he began, shuffling his feet against the rug below him. “Fuck. This is so stupid…but I had a dream about you. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“A dream? About me?” he could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone, probably trying to put distance between her and her partner just like he had done.

“Yeah. A dream. It isn’t the first one I’ve had either.” They were both silent for a moment before he continued. God, why was he admitting this. “And I guess they’ve just helped me realize some things.” His heart was beating so hard that he figured she could hear it through the phone. A sharp intake of breath from her end of the phone had him biting at his nails again.

“What things, Lan?” Lan. He hadn’t heard her say that in months.

“My girl’s asleep in the next room. John is probably in the room next to you asleep. We’re kilometers and kilometers apart but yet, despite all of that, every time I close my fucking eyes all I see is you. All I hear is you laughing. I dream of you.” He sat down, head in his hands. “I guess I never really moved on, Angel.” The nickname had given her long ago falling effortlessly from his lips.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she hung up the phone, called him a dickhead, and never spoke to him again. All of the worst options lived in his head. The last thing he expected her to say was,

“Lan, I dream of you too.”

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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slexenskee · 2 months

Text

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing.

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots.

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night.

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel.

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.”

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101.

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time.

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat.

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!”

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state!

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time.

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it.

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together.

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance.

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that.

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow.

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?”

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.”

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?”

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote.

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.”

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.”

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner.

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic.

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?”

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history.

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours.

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie.

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly.

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero.

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk.

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care.

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has.

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other.

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.

Actually, his childhood was awesome.

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok.

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that.

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes.

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.”

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that?

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best.

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic.

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more.

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?”

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.”

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him.

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’.

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly.

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.”

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly.

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

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tteokdoroki · 10 months

Text

✩࿐TRACK 02: ONOFFONOFF. eijirou kirishima (2K)

about. by day, kirishima fights crime to keep everyone he loves safe. by night, you’re fighting to keep your relationship alive, even while everything else is crumbling to pieces.

warnings. minors, ageless and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, angst, hurt-comfort, hopeful/open ending, toxic relationships, dry humping, civillain + fem!reader, pro hero!kirishima.

things to note. happy saturday homies, i hope you enjoy this second instalment !! i adore writing angst pieces so it was nice to go back to that, enjoy mwah ! <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

how could anyone ever hate eijirou kirishima.

by day, he’s everybody’s favourite pro hero. though number five on the ranks, red riot has a comforting charm that dazzles the public. fear dissipates almost instantly whenever he was on the scene, as if there was never anything to be afraid of in the first place. he is calm while he works, caring. holding crying babies to his plush chest as he breaks through burning buildings, pulling dazed strangers out of the way of speeding cars, taking out criminals with brute force and bright banter.

he’s wonderful with kids as well, which by extension, makes kirishima popular with the parents — often using their starry eyed little ones for a chance to get close to the bulky hero. of course, your boyfriend doesn’t realise. he doesn’t take note of the lingering touches during touching family photos with him, numbers slipped into his hero costume or how people lean against kirishima desperate for a messy signature to be scrawled across inappropriate parts of their bodies.

eijirou is too nice to say no, to set boundaries. he’s warm and friendly — the perfect aura of sunshine. in some ways, you can understand the way the world almost revolves around him. why all the people and their planets make him the centre of the universe. after all, it’s part of the reason you ended up dating him.

but the press adore him too, they really do. their beloved red riot is always willing to stop for interviews even when he’s busted and beaten, they love the way he leans down (all 6’5 of him) to hear the reporters better. they eat up the way he blushes and bumbles humbly whenever he’s asked about the status of his relationship. to which he answers “i wouldn’t say there’s anyone in particular that’s in the picture right now…” while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, accidentally showing off his bulging muscles and firm chest.

how could you ever hate eijirou kirishima.

by night, he’s supposed to be yours and only yours. but you can smell floral perfumes on his collarbones from fans that get too close and you can feel the distance grow between you like an invisible barrier.

you hate that kirishima lies about your relationship to the public just as a ‘precaution’ when it’s clearly a ploy from eijirou’s marketing team to keep him the lovable, single, himbo hero. you hate that it makes you want to push him away.

it’s not just you and him in this partnership. it’s you, eijirou and the whole world that eagerly watches his every move — and it’s starting to make you feel like a third wheel, like less of a priority, like more of an accessory.

you don’t know when loving eijirou kirishima becomes difficult and starts to feel like a chore — in your mind, you’re under appreciated. he comes home from work, sleeps, and leaves before the sun rises without giving you an ounce of attention (aside from the money dropped into your bank account as an apology). the dates that you plan become less frequent too, or when they do happen, kirishima leaves halfway through with a lopsided sorrowful grin.

“the world isn’t gonna save itself, yanno. someone’s got to be on the scene.”

you fill the void in your heart with your work, spending time with friends who don’t offer the same comfort as your long-term partner and lazing about the house. but being alone gives you the space to begin resenting kirishima, giving into the toxic comparisons of your relationship against that of others — todoroki and his girlfriend are getting married soon, why aren’t you and eiji?

it’s not like you haven’t brought this up before, over quiet dinners interjected with snide remarks — it only ever leads to screaming matches that end with your throat raw and kirishima slamming doors so loud that the house shakes. but brought back together by the toxic cycle of love, you end up back in his bed and he ends up back inside you — taking root in your ribcage right where your heart lies, the thorns on his roses piercing the beating muscle.

you cough up perfumed petals like you would blood, kirishima leaving fatal wounds on the inside of your chest cavity.

it doesn’t stop the way you so brokenly make love, tearing one another apart and piecing you back together like patchwork.

“careful.” your boyfriend mumbles through swollen lips as they press against your own. he lets your tongue slide into his hot mouth, your noses pressed up against each other — breath ragged.

your hands reach for eijirou’s shirt to tear through it. each of your movements are calculated to replace what traces from others linger on him. you pull, bite and scratch at golden skin that is already littered with scars from his battles. those where he protected the country he loved, the people who loved him. “slowly…” kirishima ushers, you gently, tilting his head back when you tug on the black roots of his hair to gain access to his neck.

“d-darling, what’s the hurry?”

you love him so much that you think you might hate him even more. he’s so perfect, he doesn’t colour outside of the lines, he touches you like you’re a house made of cards even though his fingertips set your entire body on fire.

blood rushes through your ears, carrying a heat that blossoms in your lower tummy and intoxicates kirishima as you kiss him again — teeth sinking into his lower lip until it bleeds.

“c-can we talk?” kirishima stutters out as your tongue glides under his earlobe next and your hips slot against his perfectly, grinding down into his hardening cock. “w-what’s going on? fuck,” he curses, hips bucking up instinctively. “what’s going on with you?”

“nothing.” stop talking.

“darlin’, you’re being a little rough…” shut up.

“you usually like that.” you utter breathlessly, switching sides to leave marks on the unmarred portions of his neck.

this time, however, the red head grips your hips a little tighter — halting your movements and pushing you back so he can get a better look at your face. “baby, let’s just—“

“what, kirishima?” finally, you snap — glaring at him long and hard. “what could you possibly have to say now? that you can’t fuck me tonight because you’re too busy working? cause you’re busy thinking of bending over that pretty, ditzy little reporter from work today ‘cause she’s a little more tolerable than me? what is it eijirou?” you punctuate each of his words with a jab to his muscular shoulder, though the man is sturdy enough not to feel it.

you’ve had this fight before, dozens of times and on more occasions than you can count on both hands. eijirou either tunes out to play innocent or he snaps back with all teeth bared and fangs on display.

“you’re being unfair.” is all he says, tone dull and lifeless just like it’s been before. it’s like he’s given up on the two of you, not that you’d blame him. there’s no more fight left in the two of you for your love, only fuelled by the anger and resentment you feel towards each other.

“what next? bet you’ll think i’m being unreasonable.”

“you are being unreasonable.”

“oh i’m sorry, is that a problem for you? am i inconveniencing you, riot?”

“come on, what’s with the attitude?”

“excuse me?”

kirishima exhales shakily, letting go of your hips to pinch the bridge of his nose. his ruby eyes shoot everywhere but you, he can’t even stand to look at you when arguments like this come up. those eyes of his, they carry too much shake and guilt. “you always get like this. when i come home and i just want to be close to you and you get all…aggressive.” he spits out harshly, like the words are poison on his tongue, like he can’t stand to see what your love has soured into. “angry like you want to hurt me when i’m trying to love you.”

you scoff, rolling your own jewelled eyes. “love me? don’t make me laugh, eijirou. you don’t know the first thing about loving anyone except for you and your job.”

“will you at least fucking explain what i did tonight, ‘cause i’d love to know what’s got you so bitter, sweetheart?” hurt echoes in his timbre voice. you wish that you could tell him, but you flounder for words and react with rage instead — how can you tell the man you wanted forever with that you hate the hero he’s become?

“fuck you, red!” you stand, retaliating instead of communicating your needs properly. “fuck you, mister red ‘righteous’ riot, mister eijirou ‘incapable of doing wrong’ kirishima.”

kirishima’s face crumples but he follows suit, standing, but he doesn’t make a move to come closer. “what’s your fucking problem? what did i do?”

“the blame is never on you, is it?”

“well i’d like to know why it should be! if you’d just—“

“it’s like you have no sense of accountability—“

“i’m trying—“

“—like honestly, fuck you, eijirou.”

“you’re not letting me talk!” the redhead damn near screams, the base in his voice shaking your house, bouncing off the walls. he sounds drained, pained and no amount of medication can fix it. you’ve blackened his heart with scorch marks and danced amongst the flames and now you’re finally seeing that it’s not just you who this relationship is crushing.

each word you spit kirishima cuts him into the shape you want him to be, wounding him deeper than any battle scar.

“and you’re not letting me fucking breathe!” you shout back rather than listening to logic. it’s a low blow, you’re highly aware — a reference back to the early days of your relationship when kirishima overcompensated his absence for affection. he thought you’d worked through it. you liked to throw it back in his face when you were mad. you’re stubborn, you always have been, but for some reason you want to hit kirishima where it hurts. you want to cut him up into the perfect shape, until he feels exactly how you feel.

when he finally makes a move, you become aware of his sheer size for the first time that night. eijirou would never hurt you, he couldn’t harm a fly even if he wanted to but that doesn’t mean you’re not scared of his presence. kirishima touches every corner of the room, his anger flooding through it and pushing you under so that you’re drowning in your own mistakes and his too.

“you’re suffocating me too,” he mumbles, voice just above a whisper and you relax into his arms. “i’m trying so hard to be the man that you want me to be. you take so much, you want even more. you want a house and you want kids and i want to give you that too but you make it so hard. when you hurt me like this.” he’s being honest, the truth scratching at his throat as the pro-hero vocalises what you’ve failed to communicate for months. you’ve been selfish and he’s been avoidant, the pair of you only hurting one another, carving cuts so deep the wounds won’t heal and the blood won’t stop pouring unless either of you do something. and fast.

“where do we go from here?” you don’t even realise that you’re crying until your boyfriend swipes the pad of his thumb underneath your eyes, leaving no time for the salty droplet to hit your skin.

your teary gaze is tied to his as kirishima’s ruby eyes glisten under the moonlight. “i don’t know.” he hesitates. “i don’t want you to leave me. you need me.”

you whimper and curl up against his chest. “i don’t want that either.”

kirishima wraps his arms around you like a safety blanket, shielding you from the ugly truth of your own relationship. it’s always on and off with the two of you, but this time you’re determined to make it work — you hope that he is too.

“we have to work on this, on us.” he says firmly, but he squeezes you close as if you might disappear — holds you as if you’re a flower that might wilt if it’s touched. “none of this on and off, we…we gotta talk to each other from now on. yeah?”

“yeah,” for the first time in months, you sink into kirishima’s touch — accept his rough edges and hardened shell, and turn your pain into a promise. “we will.”

a promise to keep dancing together like it’s the first time even when the world around yourself and eijirou kirishima is burning.

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sevcasejay1chicago · 4 months

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Hi! Would you please write one with Matt/Kelly/Jay x reader where the reader is walking home or something and gets attacked. Roughed up a bit maybe a concussion and like a dislocated shoulder... but she manages to get away before anything too bad happens and just runs on instinct to 51. Kelly and Matt all worried and trying to comfort her but she’s in shock. Sylvie and Violet take care of her and take her to med. Jay meets them there. Maybe with worried brother-in-law Will and a Connor appearance?

Messed with the wrong one- Matt, Kelly, and Jay

Warnings: attack briefly described, vomiting, possibly wrong medical jargon

————————————

You have always been decently independent, which is something that your boys love and hate at the same time. You enjoy doing the grocery shopping and often find yourself walking the short distance to the small neighborhood market around the corner from your shared home. Today was no different.

It was late in the afternoon. The sun was just starting to set and you were happily enjoying watching the beautiful colors change in the sky. Jay was still at work, you having been able to leave early since you finished your paper work, but Jay still had a few files left to tidy up. Your errands could have waited, but you had the time now. So, while Matt, Kelly, and Jay were all still at work, you planned on getting a head start on dinner.

You were two blocks from the market when you felt four hands grab you and drag you into a nearby ally. All your training kicked in and you fought back as hard as you could. All you could think about was getting home to your boys. You kicked and punched, having to drag yourself off the ground twice. The second time you found yourself on the ground, your head also found purchase on a brick wall. You quickly shook it off and stood, laying one guy out and dodging the other, bolting down the ally and running as fast as you could. You didn’t dare look back.

Next thing you know, you are running through the bay doors of 51 and Kelly is snatching you up in his arms. You are violently shaking, blood tricking down your neck and face. You don’t respond when Kelly talks to you, given the fact that you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. You notice blurred figures run past you and out of the bay doors, others running out of the firehouse to see what the commotion is all about. Matt comes to your side, but you flinch and scream when he touches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just Matt.” Kelly whispers, rocking you back and forth in his arms. He isn’t sure you hear him, but you relax as you bury your face into his neck and breath in his familiar scent.

Matt doesn’t attempt to touch you again. Not yet anyways, but he thinks he understands why you screamed now. Your left arm is cradled between you and Kelly protectively, leading Matt to believe that your hurt. “Kelly. She’s hurt pretty bad.” Matt whispers, walking around you slowly to examine you with only his eyes.

Kelly nods. “I know. I know baby. Let’s sit down, yeah?” Kelly says, acknowledging Matt and guiding you to sit in his chair at the squad table.

Brett and Violet are standing at the ambo with the doors open. They are both assessing you from afar until Matt and Kelly can get you focused or give them permission to approach. Brett can tell you are slipping into shock, but she doesn’t want to make things worse, so she waits.

It doesn’t take long after Kelly gets you sitting down. His hands pushing your shoulders to lower you down has you screaming in pain. Matt steps aside and waves the medics over, allowing Kelly to keep a hold on you since he got to you first.

“Y/n? It’s Sylvie Brett. Can you hear me?” Brett asks, crouching down to find your tear filled eyes. When you nod, Brett smiles warmly at you. “Good. Good. Can you tell me what hurts?” Brett asks, not yet laying a hand on you.

You gently run your right hand over your collar bone and then touch the back of your head. When your hand comes away with blood, you start shaking harder and hyperventilating. You didn’t feel that.

“Hey. Hey. Baby. It’s okay.” Kelly soothes, taking your hands in his. He carefully wipes them off with a towel that Violet offers as Brett stands to examine your head wound.

“Pretty deep.” Brett comments. At this point, you have lost most of the color in your face and are sweating pretty heavily. Brett can tell, without checking your vitals, that the shock is fully setting in. “Kelly. Get her loaded up. Violet, run inside and tell Boden what’s going on then drive us to med. Matt, call med and have them set up a trauma room and have x ray and CT ready upon arrival.” Brett instructs, putting her feelings as your friend aside to get you help quickly.

Everyone jumps to their tasks. Kelly scoops you up and apologizes as you cry out in pain from the movement. Brett gets in the ambo and immediately pulls out some pain killers and an Iv tray for you. She hands Kelly a towel to keep pressure on your head wound as she hooks you up. You barely flinch as the Iv is stuck in your hand, but begin to calm slightly as the meds take over.

When you stop whimpering, Brett moves to check your chest. “Y/n. I gotta look, okay? No pressing. I promise. Just gotta make sure that everything is still relatively where it’s suppose to be.” Brett said, not wanting to scare you with the fact that your bone could potentially be out of your skin or at an alarming angle or something.

You nodded, leaning your head further into Kelly’s hold as Matt finally jumped in and the ambo began moving. You groaned as the movement caused nausea to spike as your head swam. “Mmmm.” You ground out, trying to breath through the nausea.

“What’s wrong hunny?” Brett asked, pulling back from looking at your collarbone, which seemed to be in place, to look at your face. You had gone pale once again, your face scrunched up as you shakily brought a hand to your mouth. “Okay. Hang on.” Brett said, pushing Kelly forward to lean over and grab a sick bag for you. Matt immediately took it and held it under your chin so that Brett could keep examining you.

“M-Matt.” You gasped, clutching onto his wrist when he came into view. It was like you were just processing that he was even around at all.

“Shhhh. I’m here baby. Kelly and I are here.” Matt soothed, using his free hand to wipe tears from your face. “We are almost to med. We gotcha now.” Matt murmured, hating to see the pain and fear in your eyes. He wanted nothing more than to find whoever did this to you and lay into them, but you were his first priority.

Matt’s thought process was cut short when you heaved, flying forward with a scream of pain at the end of it. Kelly stood, holding your forehead in one hand and the cloth to the back of your head with his other hand. Matt held the bag around your mouth, holding one of Kelly’s arms to stop from trying to steady you or put his hand in the wrong place and hurt you more instead o comforting you.

“Brett. You gotta do something.” Kelly said, trying not to burst into tears as you threw up, screaming when you had enough air. You were shaking violently again, the pain and the vomiting causing your body to go into overdrive.

“Kelly. I can’t. We are two minutes out. I gave her enough to take the edge off, but they gotta assess her before she gets anything else on board.” Brett tried to reason, wiping tears from her own face as she attached wires to you to check your vitals. “I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m so sorry. We are getting you to med.” Brett whispered, her heart aching as she watched her friend get sick and scream while her other friends desperately tried to help.

As soon as the ambo got to Med, Conner Rhoads, Maggie, and your brother in law, Will Halstead, were pulling open the doors. Will stood slightly away, knowing he couldn’t treat you, but he also couldn’t leave you and the boys until Jay got there. Luckily, Jay had been notified by Will when he found out, so he knew his brother would be there soon.

“What do we got?” Conner asked, helping Brett get the stretcher out of the ambo as Kelly kept up, one hand still holding the cloth to your head while the other held the bag Matt had to secure it under your chin as you gagged.

“Deep head lac and suspected broken collar bone. The vomiting started about 4 minutes ago. GCS 6, 140/97, pulse 120, O2 95 on room air.” Brett spout out. “Iv in the field. Left hand. Administered 5 of Morphine to take the edge off.” Brett said, getting your sheets in her hands.

“Okay.” Conner said, “On my count. 1, 2, 3.” Conner counted, then helped transfer you onto the hospital bed. You screamed out again as they moved you, then proceeded to pass out. “She’s out. Elevate her feet. Tip the bed.” Conner instructed, following your head down as you were moved. He checked your pupils and palpitated your collarbone while you were out. “I can feel some inflammation around her collar bone on the left side. Most likely broken, but still in place. She also has a minor concussion. I’m gonna have them do an xray and CT just to make sure on both.” Conner said, standing and looking at the monitor. “Maggie, put her on 5ML of oxygen. Her stats are dropping some. Probably from the pain. Let’s go ahead with another 15 of morphine and some Zofran too.” Conner said, typing it all up pretty quickly.

You began to stir as Kelly pushed some fly away back. Conner was quick to get to you, repositioning the bed to a more comfortable position and checked your head lac. Your eyes fluttered open just as Conner was stepping back.

“Welcome back.” Connor said with a smile. “Your gonna be okay. We need to run some tests, but I think that you’ll only need a few stitches and all you’ll need is a sling to stabilize that arm while your collar bone heals.” Conner supplied, smiling as he heard Matt, Kelly, and Will sigh in relief.

You nodded, then winced. “Hurts.” You whispered, throat raw from throwing up.

Conner nodded and moved aside for Maggie. “Mags is gonna give you more morphine and some Zofran. Sound good?” Conner asked, searching your face for confirmation. When you you gave a shaky thumbs up, he smiled. “Good, I’ll check back in a bit.” Just as Conner was leaving, Jay skidded to a stop as he came barreling through the door, almost hitting Conner in his haste to get to you.

“Baby girl.” Jay breathed, patting Conner on the shoulder and going around him to get to you. He was sweating, eyes wild as he searched your body for injuries, hands and bottom lip shaking.

“J-Jay.” You immediately sobbed out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You wailed, covering your face with your right hand.

Jay shook his head as he laid a hand on your leg. “Shhh. No baby. No. It’s okay. It’s not your fault sweet girl.” Jay soothed, rubbing your leg over the blanket. “We got them. Voight and Antonio have them. Your safe.” Jay soothed, smiling sadly at you.

“She was so smart and so brave. She ran straight into the bay doors of the fire house.” Kelly praised, kissing your forehead.

“You know your always safe with us.” Matt said, rubbing one of your feet over the blanket.

“I-I didn’t even think. I j-just ran.” You sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your arm. “I just thought a-about you guys. I-I needed to get h-home to you guys.” You murmured, tears streaking down your face again as the horrors of the event began to creep into your head.

“You’ll be home tonight sweet girl. Until then, we are here.” Jay soothed, moving forward as Maggie walked out, kissing your forehead gently. “You did so good Angel.”

“I’m home here with you guys. Wherever you are is home.” You whispered, finally relaxing as the drugs numbed the pain and the nausea. You were exhausted and you knew your boys would keep you safe, so you allowed your eyes to slip closed.

——————

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

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@stellakiddsblog

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@starset21

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #jay halstead #matt casey x reader #jay halstead x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #fluff #emeto fic #emeto tw #tw emeto

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kiss-me-muchoo · 4 months

Text

𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: we’ll be safe and sound || part two: isn’t it delicate?

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Lucy Gray Baird was once your best friend. But Coriolanus Snow arrived and it was you who had them both charmed up. Where Coriolanus returns to the Capitol thinking he killed two women. Only to be surprised to realise that he doomed the bright prospect of his future.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ ANGST, kinda Lucy Gray x Coryo x reader, chasing, blood, slight gore if you imagine some scenes, poisonous berries, mentions of aphrodisiacs, drowning, violence, this gets slightly dark.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ this is one of my favourite fics ab Coriolanus so far. Main songs are Safe and Sound (Taylor’s version), can’t catch me now again and triste verano lol. Part two is going to be the aftermath of this btw

♪ ♫ awful Coriolanus Snow playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

__________________________________________________________

The water was warm. The soft rocks at the bottom made it slippery to stand still. But you did your best to stay there, looking at your friends laughing and playing where the water was deep.

“I can’t do it.” You say, shaking your head.

“You’re such a baby. Of course, you can!” The girl beside laughs at you and gently pushes you.

“Lucy Gray! I swear if you push me again I’m killing you” she laughs harder.

“Lucky me I know how to swim and you don’t”

“Relax. Just take my hand, I’m not letting you drown” Slowly, you take her hand, letting Lucy Gray guide you deeper into the water.

“I’m closing my eyes” you warn her. She rolls her eyes and laughs. The voices of your friends and the splashing sounds closer. At the same time, you feel the water has reached your chest. And it sends you on spirals.

“It’s okay. Just let go…” You’re holding Lucy Gray’s hand too tight. But as you reach further, you start making a big attempt to float. That’s when Lucy Gray grabs both of your hands to help you.

She finds your furrowed brows and insecure face funny and cute at the same time.

After some existential nights, the young girl questioned if she had ever felt such a strong connection with anyone as she did with you.

No. Never.

“Lucy Gray!” When she comes back to reality, she smiles shocked. She had dropped your hands but you had managed to keep floating. You were swimming.

“See? You did it!” Some of the members of The Covey cheer and you smile and laugh at their jokes.

“Told ya’. You’re just a baby” You poke your tongue out and she just makes fun of you.

“So funny. Shouldn’t you be at the market helping Maude Ivory to sell the necklaces we made?” Lucy Gray rolls her eyes again.

“Shouldn’t you be home?” It’s noon, almost dark. And yes, you should be home.

“I should.” To Lucy Gray, it was a disappointment to see that you never shared anything about your family or home. She just knew your mother’s family was from District 4, nothing else.

“Go home. I don’t want you to get scolded.” She was too sweet. Too sweet that you questioned if Lucy Gray Baird was your best friend.

“Petal, I’m almost eighteen…” one of the girls threw you a towel as soon as you made it out of the lake. After thanking her, you slip into your black sundress, which captures your alleged best friend’s attention.

“Why the black dress?” As a colour lover, you supposed Lucy Gray was hating your dress.

“It was the first thing I grabbed,” you admit, drying your hair with the towel.

“It looks like you’re going to a field funeral.”

“Maybe I was. In case I happened to have died in the lake” you joke, making her splash you. Lucy Gray noticed at that moment that you used many words that sounded too educated.

“Do you trust me so little?” She asked as she watched you leave.

“You know I trust whoever is loyal to me.” And with that, you disappeared through the trees.

There was something on you that intrigued Lucy Gray. And soon there will be two.

…

One night, at the hob, Lucy Gray is performing with The Covey and you are seated, smiling at her and your friends. Then all of a sudden, a certain blonde and tanned boy reaches for you.

“Y/N!” You hear your name and once you turn, you spot your two new friends.

“Sejanus, hey!” He offers you a little hug but it’s nothing compared to when Coriolanus Snow got closer.

“Coriolanus…” he literally falls into your open arms, his arms snaking around your hips with so much disguise that it makes you blush at the intimacy.

“I’ve told you… you can call me Coryo” You smile at him, inspecting his charming blue eyes that still made you get lost like the first day.

“Right… Well, it’s nice to see you, Coryo” he wants to chuckle. As Sejanus gets lost to get a drink, the blonde man takes a seat beside you.

“How has your training been? Hopefully not too hard.” You ask and wonder. Coriolanus was a peacekeeper in training. You met him almost three weeks ago, and somehow he made you very happy.

“I’m used to it now. The first days were the worst” you nod, turning back to see Lucy Gray and cheer for her.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus looked at you. Even your profile was a mystery to him. There was something about you that made him feel at home. Maybe it was your mannerisms that were very… Capitol. And that’s the thing, he didn’t know you. Yet, there was something that urged Coriolanus to unveil you. And that has started to make him question his feelings for Lucy Gray.

The moment you knew Coriolanus was Capitol, you started putting everything in a balance. And as you spent days talking outside of The Covey House and the lake, you realised you had started to put an eye on him.

When you turned to see the young man, you were surprised to see him already looking at you.

“What?” You ask, smiling. He replies by looking down, cheeks slightly flushed with pink.

“Nothing.” Your hand sneaks around your neck, and you feel it naked. You have lost your necklace.

Coriolanus sees how you start looking at the table, then the floor, looking out for something.

“What happened?”

“My necklace. I think I lost it… damn it” he starts helping you.

“Maybe it fell at the entrance” he suggests. So together we leave the hob. All under the fixated look of Lucy Gray. Who kept singing but the feeling on her chest made her uneasy.

The necklace doesn’t appear.

“It was just a necklace. But…” you sigh, leaning against the wall of the alley. Just a golden chain, no pendant, nothing.

Coriolanus can only see your features under the moonlight, ignoring the necklace issue. You have a beautiful dress under an oversized cardigan. With or without the necklace, you look gorgeous.

“It was a present. From my sixteenth birthday”

“Have mine.” You look at him before giggling. He takes his tag, a silver chain with his name on it. The young man thinks you would like him even more by offering his tag to you. He wants you to become closer to him. But the offer could be seen as wrong.

“I can’t take it, Coryo” he gets closer and the proximity makes you avoid his eyes. Only to land your vision on his hand taking yours.

He slips the tag in your palm, it’s still warm.

This is the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him. And you don’t know how to feel about it.

“At least until you get a new necklace” he suggests, offering a little smile. You can see he has no moles around his face, barely visible freckles maybe. His skin is very clear and his lips…

As you’re too focused on analysing his face, you accept the chain. And for some reason, you let him play with your cold fingers.

“Until then…” he leans closer, and the air suddenly feels fogged. It could be just another humid summer night.

But no, it was because Coriolanus Snow was less than two inches away from kissing you.

His free hand was ready to land behind your neck, just to slightly push you towards him and finally discover what your lips felt like.

“Where were you two?…” the side door of the hob opened. And like two volts, you and Coriolanus separate from each other. You grasp his tag tightly around your hand in a fist.

Lucy Gray had seen the interaction.

“Just looking for y/n’s necklace,” Coriolanus said first, walking away from you.

“Oh. Well, we were just waiting for you two. They want to start a round with beers” the girl said, rolling her eyes and giggling, pretending very well.

“Let’s go then…” Coriolanus walked past her, smiling at her like nothing happened. You tried to do the same. But Lucy Gray grabbed your forearm, stopping you from entering the hob behind the young man.

“Say the truth. Are you falling in love with him?” You frown, slightly irritated at the question.

“Of course not. I barely know him.” You replied a little too harshly. She nodded, silently believing you.

“You know I’ll never be the woman who wrecks a relationship.” She takes your word a little wounded. Seeing how you enter the hob quietly.

She just stares at the sky. You had been a good friend and she trusted you. Lucy Gray was having a little crisis. She questioned at that very moment if she actually loved Coriolanus.

Certainly not. She didn’t trust him at the beginning. Seeing him almost kissing you, was making her not trust him at the end. And Lucy Gray knew. You were so loyal to ever intentionally get involved in some affair. You preached to Not do what you don’t want to happen to you.

But the truth is that you would wreck a relationship. Unintentionally, but twice.

…

It was you who discovered a pomegranate tree near The Covey House. The branches were long and the season of pomegranates was until late summer, but somehow, in August, the tree was blossoming a couple of red beats.

Near the house, the nomad group had built some locations to make their lives easier. Like some stations to wash clothes and eat. Maude Ivory was sick, she started with a sore throat and she developed a stomach infection later. So you suggested picking their laundry. And since you spent more time with The Covey rather than your family, it wasn’t rare for Coriolanus to find you folding some dresses that were once hanging on a tightrope between two trees.

He stepped on a branch and it made you jump startled.

“Gosh! You scared me!” you squeaked after seeing Coriolanus standing there with his peacekeeper uniform. He grinned, leaving his little backpack on the table. He spotted a little basket filled with pomegranates.

“You picked all this?” He asked, pointing at the basket.

“Yes. It was a big surprise to see pomegranates in August. They start their season at the end of the month or September.”

“I never thought you would be that kind of girl?” You frowned laughing, turning back to fold the dresses into another basket.

“What kind, Coriolanus?” Shortly after, you know he is behind you. You can feel his breath in the nape of your neck, and it sends shivers to your spine.

“The kind who climbs trees and folds laundry while singing” your cheeks immediately go red. He had heard you sing previously.

“You heard me?”

“Indeed. Very pretty voice,” he said after sensing how embarrassed you were.

“I don’t sing. And you really shouldn’t be here. Lucy Gray was looking for you” You state firmly. Realising how much anyone could misinterpret the situation if they find you almost tangled up with Coriolanus Snow behind you.

“She was gone when I arrived here.”

“Oh…” you say, taking the basket with the laundry. When Coriolanus sees that you are also going to grab the one with the pomegranates, he stops you.

“Let me help you…” he takes the one with the fruit.

“Thank you.” He grabs your hand again, and it makes you weak. But you remember your dear friend. And the loyalty you preach.

“You can’t do this, Coryo. Not to her, not you. And not to me…” he sighs. Honestly, he didn’t want to hurt either one. But it was you who he was always trying to describe. It was you making him laugh so much. And it was you who made him feel like… home. Like…Capitol.

“You make me feel different.” You roll your eyes.

“And how did she make you feel in the first place?” They met at the Capitol. While you prayed for Lucy Gray’s survival at the Hunger Games. Boys could be liars.

“Lucy Gray made me feel like I had an option away from home.”

“But… you make me feel like I can have both. I can have this…” he says looking down at the pomegranates and folded laundry.

“And also… what I had there.” You have to look away. You see the trees and how some leaves fall because of the breeze.

“You’ll have to choose one day…” he nods, but he’s so close to you. He can see every detail of your delicate face. So as much as he tries to resist the urges, he ends up leaning closer. Your lips brush his and it’s magical. You really want to kiss him too.

“Doesn’t have to be today. Right?” His comment makes you almost retreat. And before you can walk away he pulls you to his chest again, finally kissing you.

He’s soft, yet passionate and intense. His right-hand finds comfort in the back of your neck while the other lands on your chin, deepening the kiss. For you, it’s an automatic response to put your arms around his neck.

As the kiss turns more desperate, the hand on your chin ends up pushing your lower back and you have to suppress a moan when you feel the clear outline of his manhood poke at your lower belly and part of your pelvis. It’s not enough to the fire you both initiated, but you have to stop.

Both of you pant for air and somehow he ends up smiling.

“Until the day you choose. This never happened.” You say firmly, but slowly, and you also smile at him.

Your smile was enough to keep him calm on the way back. Unconsciously, both of you feel like silly kids. Shyly walking side by side with baskets in your hands.

“So you couldn’t swim?” Coriolanus asks after some minutes walking to The Covey House.

“I couldn’t. Most of my family is from District 4. It’s embarrassing, to be honest.” He assumed you were also from there. And he couldn’t help but think that District 4 was closer than the 12 from the Capitol. Immediately he brushed away the thought.

“But Lucy Gray taught me. Kind of a violent teacher, but it was still great” you admit laughing. And Coriolanus was blushed. Surprisingly, he found himself on the verge of being jealous. Yes, of Lucy Gray teaching you how to swim.

Through the trail, one of the boys from The Covey appears, he looks too sweaty and tired, gasping and desperate.

“Y/N! Is Maude. She has a lot of fever and we don’t know what to do” You immediately worry, starting at a faster pace, followed by Coriolanus.

“Where is Lucy Gray?” You ask. The boy shrugs guiding you to their home.

“We don’t know. She’s nowhere near.” You sigh.

As soon as you make it inside, you find the girl lying on a couch, sweating and panting. Your heart broke as you kneeled beside her.

“Maude? You are going to be fine.” She seems to have identified you and slowly nodded.

Coriolanus follows you as you run to their improvised kitchen. You mix some herbs and boil them with water.

“Coryo, please hand me the honey.” He looks around to see a glass with honey and hands it to you.

And then, Coriolanus swears he fell in love with you as you treated Maude Ivory, immediately making her rest.

…

One night, Lucy Gray is oddly quiet. You know something’s up. So when you gently caress her shoulder, she lets out a long breath before spilling everything.

“Coriolanus shot Billy Taupe and the mayor’s daughter.” Your eyes widened, before letting a shocked gasp.

“What?” Lucy Gray nodded, confirming the facts to you.

“He did it to protect me and Sejanus. But…”

“This is bad. You know how this district is. Rumours will spark, the people will talk…” you spiral about it too panicked.

“I don’t want you nor Coriolanus to get in more trouble. What if-“

“It’ll be fine. We’ll be safe…” she hugs you, hearing how you tried to hide your sobs from her. She continues to share what happened and where the murder weapon was. She encourages you to keep the secret and play pretend until the waters soothed.

The waters only get worse. Like the tides form hours before a tsunami. After a peaceful morning, you find Lucy Gray at the market. You eat half a sandwich with her and you share that your mother was worried about the rumours. Including the fact that the authorities were starting to turn their heads towards Lucy Gray. She acts calm and used to have people talking about her. But being accused of murder was something different.

And it only gets worse when you two get closer to the chaos. Where Sejanus Plinth and the man who hid the murder weapon were hanged for treason. Lucy Gray takes your hand as you cover your mouth in shock.

You are able to see Coriolanus. The panic on his face is evident enough to make you feel uneasy. And that’s when Lucy Gray plans something.

You listen to her tell Coriolanus about leaving the districts. There are feelings of nausea, sadness, and stress washing all over you. That is abruptly cut by the couple turning to see you.

“Did you listen, y/n?” Lucy Gray asks. You stay quiet.

“Come with us. Please” she adds. You look at Coriolanus. His face doesn’t express anything, but he really wants you to agree. He knows it is a bad idea, he knows that is dangerous. But he wants to have you too.

You have plenty of reasons to stay. A little family, a home, a future. Which was certainly unsure for your dear people. They had nothing to lose.

Half of you were unsure, afraid of growing up and not being able to make it. So you had two options. And you weren’t ready to make a decision.

“Please, y/n. You’re my best friend. I can’t make it without you” Time never passed apparently. Lucy Gray and Coriolanus were still looking at you, waiting for some answer.

Your tongue gets loose before you can’t think clearly.

“I’ll come.” Coriolanus sees how the girl hugs you tightly. And he knows there’s no way back. He doesn’t know what to expect about this.

After agreeing to meet in the hanging tree, the three of you part separate ways.

You don’t think much about it. Because if you did, you would start analysing, and probably you would stay.

Coriolanus is too busy in the barracks to even remember. But he can’t help to think about you and Lucy Gray in a balance, knowing he was lingering too much on your side.

And Lucy Gray understands that in the long term, you’ll either grow old seeing her and Coriolanus being together. Only if it didn’t turn out the other way, where Coriolanus ended up taking you and it was Lucy Gray who would have to bear it.

Either way. She would leave with the only two humans he could trust. Or so she believed.

…

Your boots are dusted. You stare at them, a bitten prune in your right hand a little knife in the other. The way he grabs her chin makes you feel uncomfortable… and jealous.

Coriolanus didn’t kill his old self. That was for sure. You have your own theories, but you refuse to add gasoline to the fire. Not when you have made it outside of District 12.

“Not the best time to throw allusions, Coryo,” you say walking past them, separating the couple. You hoped to have soothed the tension. But you knew Lucy Gray had decreased her trust in the boy.

“You’re right. Sorry…” Coriolanus accepts looking at Lucy Gray. Then to you and your silly headscarf, your long silk dress, and fishing dark jacket.

“We really needed her. Right?” Lucy Gray throws the words, making Coriolanus frown confused. And that’s when he questioned if the girl also had some feelings for you, other than being best friends. Because the way he was on the verge of smiling at the sight of you was the same way she was looking at you.

“She will prevent us from killing each other” he attempted to joke.

“Or be the reason why we kill each other,” Lucy Gray said. Coriolanus disliked the comment.

And so on, for the rest of the walk, it’s you making the air lighter. Your smiles made Coriolanus forget the offer of moving to District 2. Even the situation where his grandmother and Tigris were in. But Lucy Gray reminded him of his errors and his new upcoming country life. Your random comments about plants that are poisonous and others that work as medicine or aphrodisiacs make Lucy Gray blush and keep focused. Knowing that having you by her side was a good sign.

You lean to pick some violet flowers, and both Lucy Gray and Coriolanus look at each other to then look at you.

“Medicine, poisonous or…?” You giggle, noticing how Lucy Gray was avoiding saying the word.

“Saffron. An aphrodisiac, actually,” you answer, looking at her blush and Coriolanus’ little smirk.

“Some threads of this with warm milk or wine and…” Coriolanus can’t help but laugh briefly. You ignore the way he looks at you. The cheeky look he offered you and how you evidently looked away, blushed.

Lucy Gray caught a glimpse of your necklace. She stopped blushing as soon as she looked carefully. It was Coriolanus’ tag. Dangling between your breasts and shining under the last rays of the sun. It was getting cloudy. Likely, a humid rain was coming.

“I’ll take the lead from here.” Lucy Gray says, her tone a little more cold.

She starts walking away and Coriolanus takes the opportunity to help you stand up.

“You should take some…” when you understand what he meant, you punch his arm.

“You’re insane, Snow” he laughs and cynically goes to trace your face with one of the flowers.

“I think I’ve made my decision.” You turn to look at Lucy Gray, who’s even further then. Then back to the blonde guy with gorgeous blue ocean eyes.

You don’t want to hurt her. Lucy Gray deserved better. But you couldn’t deny that if the days kept passing, you would completely and blindly fall in love with Coriolanus Snow.

“We won’t do anything about it. Yet…” you say, sliding a little bunch of the violet saffron flowers inside your bag. Coriolanus shakes his head. There’s a big smile on his face, returning to walk before he jumps there to kiss you.

…

When the rain starts you decide to find the lake. Under the rain, the dark underwater conditions made it desirable to fish. Fish were more active and hopefully, you would be able to bring something to have for dinner that night. The cabin was very near. Coriolanus stayed there and Lucy Gray came to the lake with you. She was quiet, watching how your feet were underwater, and you sank a sharp branch constantly.

“I have one!” You happily yelled, watching how the poor animal squirmed.

When you leave it in a little bag with Lucy Gray, she stops you.

“Lucy Gray?”

“I swear I won’t ask again. But please be honest, y/n.” She starts and it makes you frown confused. You drop the branch, waiting for her question.

“Do you love him?” She finally asks.

You remain quiet. But you keep your word.

“I don’t know…”

She nods, looking at the damn tag on your neck. She should’ve known.

“That doesn’t mean I’ve been acting behind your back or that I will” you add. Because it’s true. None of your encounters with Coriolanus were set by you. It was he who always looked out for you.

“Not yet.” She spits, giving you a harsh look. You sigh, tilting your head, hands on your hips.

“Are we going to ruin everything for a man?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” She asks with a sarcastic smile.

“I won’t do this, Lucy Gray. And you shouldn’t either. Not when we’ve come this far already.” You say looking away from her, grabbing the branch, and walking away.

“Alright. I’m going back to the cabin. See you there?” She asks to surrender.

“Sure.” You hear her footsteps leaving. And you can finally breathe, your eyes water and you question everything.

The long days working with The Covey, helping them to make handicrafts to sell at the market. The nights laughing nonstop with Lucy Gray and giving her to drink when she shouldn’t, how she braided your hair and caressed you. All the good performances she gave and how good the celebrations were.

Then the days you were able to have long walks with Coriolanus, getting to know little but something about his life at the Capitol. The nights you sneaked at the barracks, and both spent hours drinking and saying silly things. The soft touches he started giving you. How he cared for you and always wanted you to be okay.

You realise they are the most important people in your life outside of your family. They are the strongest connections you’ve ever made. And you didn’t have the heart to ruin it or sacrifice it.

Those thoughts are long gone after you hear some shooting. You drop the branch again and you start running towards the cabin. You forget your boots and the fish. It’s the panic of knowing something bad has happened that reigns in your head. Some dry leaves hurt your bare feet but you don’t care.

You literally jump the stairs of the cabin. And once you open the door, you spot Coriolanus with the rifle in one hand. A knife on the other. That forbidden rifle.

You see some dry blood in his arm. An evident bite was there.

“What happened?” You rush to inspect his arm.

“Snakebite” but he’s fast enough to turn and start giving you pecks across the face. And once his lips brush your chin, you can’t take it anymore.

Neither him, he finally kisses you like he never ever did.

It’s desperate. While you kiss him back, many questions keep flooding your head. And you can’t fully concentrate on his lips. So you back away.

“Where’s Lucy Gray?” He remains quiet. Slowly, you look down. Until your eyes land on the rifle. You start walking backward, shaking your head. Tears forming again.

“No…” you whisper as he tries to get closer to you again. Coriolanus wants to scream and tell you everything is going to be okay. But he knows it’s not true. He sees how you’re starting to look shocked. And he realised how smart you were, how fast you connected the dots.

He makes you sit on the creaky chair of wood. He offers you a dark brown glass, where he pours some of the water. Slowly, you take the glass, hoping to calm yourself with some water.

Once you drink a sip, you see a crushed berry. Quickly you spit the water, throwing the glass as it shatters into the floor.

It was a Lily of the Valley, a poisonous berry.

“YOU POISONED ME!” You scream. He opens his eyes and enters in panic.

“No, y/n. It was an accident!” The urge to run increased. Probably what your dear Lucy Gray tried to do. It makes you finally cry.

That crushed berry was an accident. Coriolanus told Lucy Gray to wait for you, to prevent cooking anything that was poisonous from your collection.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” He stops you, and as soon as he touches you, your reaction is violent. You keep squirming, trying to run away from him.

He drops the rifle, but the hand with the knife keeps dangerously brushing your temple. And Coriolanus wants to stop fighting so badly, worried that he could hurt you even more. Also, he panics as he knows the poison could be spreading.

He can’t be alone. You were his remaining hope.

“PLEASE STOP, Y/N!” But you don’t.

“YOU KILLED HER! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” Suddenly both of you stop. You touch your face and your whole palm is covered in blood.

Another thing Coriolanus never meant to. The knife had made a deep cut, and the scarlet kept flowing from that side of your face, covering your silk dress with spots.

“It was an accident. Y/n…please”

An accident… he wanted to kill you.

You run. You run as fast as you can. Towards the lake, wherever. As long as you could be away from Coriolanus.

He runs too, he chases you. Making you feel like his prey. You try to ignore the fear that keeps building up. You ignore the blood threatening your vision from the left eye.

“STOP, Y/N!” Coriolanus screams.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” But you don’t stop, you reach the old wooden platform at the lake. The rain splashing against the surface of the lake is loud, but not enough to silence your sobs of anger, fear, and pain.

Coriolanus also fears. He knows he’s a monster, but he didn't want to be one around you. Maybe it was his karma. He believed Lucy Gray placed his mother’s scarf on top of that snake. You believed he had purposely placed the crushed Lily of the Valley at the bottom of that glass.

He keeps running, you won’t go anywhere in that wood thing.

You turn to see him. And it destroys him. Your face and drenched dress. All covered in blood and rain. Your red and swollen eyes. He had broken you in less than twenty minutes.

And looking at his eyes was your ending. Because you slipped. Coriolanus saw how your weak body fell into the water and he ran faster.

But he didn’t jump. It was too late.

Soon he realised your body would never make it to the surface.

He cried, he screamed in that lake. He fell on his knees and cursed at the way things happened. He lost his head when Lucy Gray was gone, and he returned even more stressed as he thought you had also run away. But you came straight to his arms, hoping to see everyone was fine. And he just kept cursing, wishing he had given you a different glass.

Some minutes later, he goes back to the cabin. He takes the rifle carefully wrapped with a blanket and takes a raft.

As he lets the rifle sink into the lake, he wonders where your body had ended up. But he accepts it was probably better to let you rest peacefully underwater than disturb you.

In his head, he truly fell in love with you. Lucy Gray had been an enigma for most of the time, only to reveal her true nature in her final moments. And you, Coriolanus realised you were the real mystery.

Just like your death.

He took all the flowers you had collected and sprinkled the lake with them. His eyes watered once again. Thinking about what could’ve been. And after a minute of silence, he leaves. The lake, the cabin, the outsides of the districts.

With two remaining memories; Lucy Gray’s earring and a single saffron flower you promised to give it a try with him.

Coriolanus swears that he actually needed you. But you’re gone.

…

Ending up back in the Capitol makes Coriolanus feel like Lucy Gray’s death was worth it, actually. But yours makes him feel guilty. He could’ve asked you to come with him. To forget about everything that happened on the 12 and start a new life. With the Plinth fortune and Gaul’s help on his side, Coriolanus accepts the only missing piece is you.

The saffron flower rested between the pages of his journal, now dry. But the color was vivid as the day it blossomed.

Coriolanus is a new man. Who had let go of his past, but not the memory of you. He mourns your death the first week he comes back home. And he tells his grandmother that from now on he will only wear her white roses.

A symbol of peace, hope, and innocence. Which he had lost a long time ago. But it reminded him of you. Especially the hope, which was what you took away from him when you died.

So he accepts the invitation from the annoying childish girl Livia Cardew. The golden blonde was always a shy yet smiley girl in class. But Coriolanus never paid much attention to her. Until he learned Livia’s older cousin was a famous and respected politician. So he agreed to come with her to the Inauguration Day. President Ravinstill was too depressed and down after his son died at the hands of a rebel attack. So he had to retire. And Coriolanus knew it was a great opportunity to look out for contacts and form new comrades.

“You look amazing,” Tigris said, brushing her cousin’s shoulders, inspecting his dark blue suit.

“Maybe because you did this,” Coriolanus said, happy to see the young woman smiling again. After the bittersweet comment of saying he looked like his father, there had been a shift.

“With some help,” she says, admitting all the hard work was not from her hands. Now she had a little atelier where she had help and started new fashion trends at the Capitol.

“Even so, you designed it. Thank you, Tigris” he smiled at her.

“Are you still going with that girl?”

“Livia? Yes… Why?” He asked, looking at himself in the mirror.

“I don’t think she’s the one Coryo. She’s a child” Tigris admitted, arms crossed and avoiding looking at the man.

“She’s my age, Tigris.”

“Still… allow me to say this but, she doesn’t seem to be what you need” Coriolanus sighed. Of course, Livia Cardew wasn’t what he needed, she just had some contacts and a good reputation from her family. But they had nothing in common.

Coriolanus Snow needed you. An alleged district woman, who didn’t even know her last name or background. Just the sweet girl who seemed to be the remedy for all aches.

“I know she’s not the one” and Tigris knew there had been someone else than her cousin’s tribute. Something else happened. But she wouldn’t ask him.

“Listen, I’m just going with her to the inauguration, but this doesn’t mean I’ll take her for granted,” he says, pushing away his memories from you.

“Say goodnight to Grandma’am for me, please” Tigris nods, briefly smiling once again before kissing his cheek and wishing him good luck.

The celebration had been very ostentatious. With a lot of people cheering for the new president. He seemed young, with a mature beautiful wife. There was a rumour that he was District 4 governor and was Mr. Ravinstill's best friend. That said a lot about why District 4 was wealthier than District 2 or three compared to before.

Nonetheless, the Capitol’s citizens seemed to be embellished by this new president who promised a new start for everyone in Panem.

Soon after the Inauguration Ceremony, only the wealthiest and finest members of the Capitol were invited to continue the celebration in a mansion near the hills. The view was amazing and the remaining minutes of the sunset were gorgeous up there.

Coriolanus had barely tasted from his posca. After you, he started to pay more attention to poison. He saw some classmates, like Festus, Clemensia, Vypsania, Hilarius, etc. A side of him wants to get closer and say hi, but Livia appears beside him, eating a little pastry.

“Imagine living here and being able to see this view every morning, evening, and night.” She says. Coriolanus hates her purple dress and red lipstick. As he thought, Livia was ridiculously trying to look mature.

“It’s a great view.” He replies coldly. The city was finally looking brighter, modern, and illuminated.

He turned to see the profile of the girl and noticed she had some cream on her chin.

“You have some-“ Livia understands and quickly wipes it away, smiling at him. She was pretty, but not his type.

“Better?”

“Yes.” The crowd suddenly starts talking, capturing the couple’s attention. So when both Livia and Coriolanus turn towards the mansion, they see two peacekeepers opening the doors from the biggest balcony. And the new man who had the crown of president appeared, followed by his wife. And then what seemed to be his family.

The guests started a round of applause, looking up from the giant patio. Coriolanus finally took a little sip of his drink.

“Dear friends and honourable guests. It is my joy to say that the inauguration ceremony was a success. My family and I feel extremely blessed and thankful for all the support we have received” the man started his speech. Coriolanus was mentally taking notes. As that was the man he would literally have to beg to become the Capitol’s governor one day. And hopefully, then become president.

“This is going to be a period of change, evolution, and a new start for the history of Panem. I look forward to meeting all the involved staff and personnel to make this real” he sounded honest, yet, like a dangerous species that you had to be careful around.

“For now, I’d like to introduce my sweet and dedicated daughter, who shall not be judged by her young age. But to be admired for the position I’m giving her, as chief of staff.” it was able to be heard on the microphone. He said the name, but no one heard.

And the first thing Coriolanus saw between the lines of the railing were some weird heels and the layers of a tulle dress.

Then a satin top with some soft knitted sweater, with shiny buttons. A delicate golden necklace and some dark brick red lips.

Coriolanus Snow almost dropped his glass. His face went pale and Livia had to borrow the glass from him.

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly. Coriolanus nodded, but he had an evident nausea forming.

“Y/n. Come here, darling…” the new president said with a smile. Putting an arm around his daughter, proud of showing her off.

The president’s daughter was you.

He couldn’t believe it. He saw your body drowning. You drank poison, and the cut on your temple. How could you have survived?

That didn’t matter. There you were with a shy smile. Innocence is long gone. Coriolanus only saw the mystery, the danger in your face.

Seeing you there, breathing, as much as he wanted to have you alive before, was going to curse his existence.

“A toast for everyone here. To begin this new era with the right feet!” Your father said, raising his glass.

Everyone did it then.

“For the president!” The guests cheered in unison.

Fireworks started, making everyone turn to the sky. Even Livia walked a little past Coriolanus, but he stood there looking at the balcony. Eyes set on you.

You spotted him. And it stopped your world.

He looked even more beautiful than he did in 12. Longer hair, perfect weight gained. Clean and elegant suit. Now you know everything about him. And it broke your heart. You had healed through the trauma of what happened in the lake. Nobody knew, besides you and him.

You hoped to keep it that way. But you had no compassion left for a man like Coriolanus Snow. Who killed your best friend, almost killed you, and loved you the wrong way.

You knew he would be scared to see you alive. He would end up begging on his knees at the slight error he committed. He would have many questions, that time would answer for him.

Your days of being a loyal and sweet girl were gone. Coriolanus had stripped you bare from any trace of trust, unconditional love, and innocence.

You stare at him, and he looks shocked. He looks so scared and… frail. So you greet him back with a smile, sipping at your glass one last time, before looking up at the fireworks.

He really thought that it was the end.

____________________________________

Minitaglist: @rockstarbfs @gracieroxzy @il0vebeingdelulu @coconut-dreamz @angelscrime @maryvibes @justacaliforniandreamer

part two? yey or nay?

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #corio snow

330 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 2 years

Note

🏕 "Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out." roommate au with any stranger things guy please!

I did this with Steve, mostly cause you said he's your comfort character.

I Love You - Steve Harrington

Summary: You accidentally confess your feelings to your best friend over the phone.

A/N: I couldn't decide how to end this so it kinda just ends.

Stranger Things Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“What do you think are the chances that I could like...move out of our apartment?” You asked Robin, leaning against the counter of the Radio Shack. It wasn’t exactly the most glamourous job in the world but it afforded a third of the rent on the apartment that Robin had found for you, her, and Steve.

When she’d first suggested the three of you living off campus together, you’d been reluctant. Keeping your feelings for Steve under wraps was a lot easier said than done, especially when you were literally living under the same roof as him. But Robin was persistent (and she put down the deposit for the first month before either of you could even process the idea long enough to back out of it) so it was no surprise to you when you found yourself trapped in an apartment contract, sleeping in a room right next to Steve’s.

Not ideal was a severe understatement and you were waiting with baited breath to completely fuck everything up. Something you absolutely knew you were going to do because when didn’t you fuck things up? You’d been coasting through this masquerade of a friendship for two years now and there was no way you were going to hold out much longer. You knew that. And then it happened, just like you had anticipated but maybe worse than you’d imagined.

“Why do you have to move out?” Robin asked, reaching for some of the fries she had brought you for dinner. You were supposed to be working but the moment she came in you’d flipped the sign on the door and locked it before announcing that you’re entire life was essentially over.

“I told him I loved him.” You admitted, grimacing at the mere thought of your fuck up.

It’d been a simple phone conversation, nothing exciting and definitely nothing to completely screw the future of your friendship with Steve over. He’d called the store cause he was going to the market and wanted to know if you had any special requests that hadn’t been written down. You asked for dunkaroos and then told you loved him. Mostly in that exact order. “Buy me dunkaroos. Thanks. See you later. I love you.” And then before he could answer (thank god before he could answer) you hung up. Hit the end call button and smashed the phone down onto the receiver and hyperventilated your way to the Radio Shack that Robin was working part time at.

It was unfortunate, probably for both of you, that the only person you could talk about Steve with was Robin but you hadn’t really branched out.

“How did that happen?”

“I just was like, bye, and then said I love you!” You replied, pressing your hands against your forehead. “I literally am dying right now.”

“I don’t think you’re dying.” Robin pointed out, not looking nearly as erratic over the entire ordeal as you were. “I mean, I’ve told Steve I love him plenty of times.”

“You’re physically incapable of being attracted to him and I’ve never once heard you tell him you love him.” You replied, “I literally said ‘I love you’ on the phone, to him.”

“So what? Just play it off.”

Robin’s advice was less than helpful. You knew that technically you could just shrug the whole thing off (if he even mentioned it at all, as Robin was quick to point out) and say that you made a mistake. You told your parents you loved them when you signed off. You said it to your grandma when she called on holidays or weekends to chat. It was totally normal and while you didn’t normally say it to Steve it was just a slip of the tongue. Easily played off and never spoken of again.

The second option that Robin presented, while still technically unhelpful, was a lot better than the first. The possibility that, just maybe, Steve hadn’t even heard you or if he had, that he wouldn’t bring it up at all because it didn’t really matter that much. You were friends, had been friends for a while, and you were living together. An ‘I love you’ here and there didn’t have to be romantic or talked about and definitely not agonised over. You could both go on living your lives as normal people who acted normal around each other.

“He’s totally into you though,” Robin had mentioned, ever the informative friend when you were in a crises.

You wanted to say “when pigs fly” or something along those lines but with all the crazy shit you’d experienced in Hawkins, pigs flying probably wouldn’t even make you bat an eye. The only thing left for you to do, since you’d dumped your problems on Robin and finished lunch, was actually return to the scene of the crime.

The apartment was small and your roommates were unavoidable, which meant that hiding from Steve and your embarrassing love confession was virtually impossible. He was home when you got back anyway, stashing his ice cream in the back of the freezer behind a bag of peas because Robin had a tendency to steal it.

“You know she knows you put the Rocky Road back there right?” You asked, skipping the ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or ‘is there any chance the phone cut out before I told you I love you’. “Honestly I don’t know how you can eat ice cream after working at Scoops.”

“Me and ice cream have had our differences but, I mean, it’s Rocky Road…who turns their back on Rocky Road?” Steve asked, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“Right, my bad.” You looked away quickly, going to the fridge to grab a drink. You couldn’t hide from him but maybe you could hibernate in your room until Robin got home and then it wouldn’t be the two of you alone in the apartment. Or it would, but not alone in the same room. Alone in separate rooms, where you couldn’t say anything else embarrassing and he couldn’t mention that you told him you loved him. “I’ll be in my room. I uh, homework.” You grabbed your backpack from its spot by the couch (because you always complained about doing homework by yourself in your room and insisted on sitting on the couch and bothering your roommates with medical terminology until one of them agreed to help you study).

“Are you sure?” Steve looked genuinely surprised because he’s known you for more than five minutes, “what if you need someone to quiz you?”

“I’ll be fine.” You lied.

The whole charade, thanks to Steve’s rare intuitiveness, lasted no more than thirty agonising minutes. You suspected, for the most part, that he was humouring you. Letting you sit there and stare at your textbook and act like you were capable of not distracting yourself when both of you knew that it was impossible. And eventually, when he decided enough time had passed, he knocked on the door.

It was clear then that he was humouring you in more ways then one. Waiting to see if you would crack or if he would have to say something first. Naturally, it was the latter. “Hey, how’s it going?” Steve leaned against the doorframe of your open bedroom door. You’d left it unlocked and not fully closed, a sort of ‘I’m willing to talk but only if you start the conversation’.

“Fine,” you replied, trying not to look over at him. The last thing you needed was to look over at Steve and lose all your nerve.

He shrugged though you couldn’t actually see it, “Okay,” he said it like he didn’t believe you but he pushed off the doorframe and tapped the wall gently, “well tell me if you need a study partner.”

“I will.” you nodded; eyes still diverted.

He tapped the wall one more time, “alright,” he started to back out of the room before he stopped, calling your name, “one more thing.”

Finally, you looked up, “what?”

“I love you too.”

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mariaofdoranelle · 5 months

Text

Mistletinder

Masterlist

Merry Christmas/Yulemas, @writtenonreceipts! I hope this fic finds you well. I was so happy when I got you in the draw because I admire you so much, and I hope you have as much fun reading your gift as I had writing it ❤️

@rowaelinscourt thank you for organizing the secret Santa!

Warnings: moderate alcohol intake

Words: 4,7k

“This is gonna bite you in the ass someday, you know?” Sellene reproached from behind the steering wheel. Her friend couldn’t see what Aelin was doing on her phone, but somehow she knew.

“Shh!” Aelin looked behind her to check on the girls, but they were still sound asleep. At the age of four, if they listened to any curse word, it’d be forever until they stopped repeating it over and over again. At least, from what she was told, the Whitethorn family was used to small children and their demands. It was the whole reason why she was spending Yulemas with them, after all.

Aelin and Maisie were on their own now, and when Sellene all but dragged them to her family’s farm because of all the kids and animals, it was hard to argue. After the year from hell they had, a nice Yulemas was the least she could do for Maisie.

“You’re avoiding the subject,” Sellene insisted.

“Yes. Because I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But you sure seem to want to keep doing it, huh?”

When you’re broke after your divorce and your business isn’t thriving, ain’t it funny what you’ll do?

On one drunken night amidst her separation, Aelin downloaded Tinder and scheduled a date on the bookstore café she owned. But when she freaked out and canceled right after the guy—Archer—arrived, she could only watch from her mezzanine office, amazed, as he stuffed his face with baked goods and left with two books.

After that, luring people from Tinder into Fireheart Books & Cafe was just a small part of her marketing plan. And the most unethical one.

“It’s a lucrative strategy,” Aelin said, feeling defensive.

“That you don’t need anymore.” Sellene rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you just butcher the anthropology section to fit more tables?”

Yes. For the same reason Aelin added sidewalk dining tables. “Your point is?”

“Did you at least give someone a try while you’re at it?”

Once. Just one person that made her actually enjoy the execution of her plan, even extending it so she’d talk to him more before ghosting. Conversation flowed, and Aelin had already gone on some dates at that point after her separation, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think she’d find love on Tinder.

“That app is a lost cause, Sel.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find some good hot dates.” Her friend wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I did.”

Aelin managed to muffle her laughter with one hand so the two sleeping beauties on the back wouldn’t wake up. She brushed her daughter’s chestnut hair away from her face, watching the way she leaned on her friend during their nap. Maisie and Bree were thick as thieves in preschool and, as single moms, Aelin and Sellene would frequently help each other out.

Sellene has a hot date? Auntie Ae and Maisie will happily have Bree for a sleepover.

Aelin is busy at the book shop? Auntie Sel and Bree can drop Maisie there when school is over.

Sellene was godsend this year, and listening to her rant about her love life was just one of the fun perks of being so close to her. If the few dates Aelin went to this year actually happened, it was because her friend insisted.

“So, how’s that thing with Ilias again?” Aelin said, desperate to change the subject.

A groan. “You will not believe what he texted me this morning…”

Aelin let her friend go on about her situationship, a little relieved that she wasn’t the focus of the conversation anymore.

Truth was, she was a little anxious about this Yulemas. Sellene guaranteed that her family was too big for Aelin to intrude in something intimate, and the Whitethorns were properly notified about her stay, but that nagging feeling that her and Maisie were crashing the party wouldn’t go.

After they got to the farm, it was a while before they reached the house.

When Sellene told her about all the family traditions and how homey it was, Aelin expected an old farmhouse of sorts. To be honest, she didn’t think much about how the house would look, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a classic-looking manor with an exterior made of white stone.

A blonde woman showed up on the porch before Sel parked the car, then she ran inside and came back, tugging a man by the arm. By that time, they were already leaving the car with their bags, but the older couple still insisted on helping them.

Rory and Owen, her friend’s aunt and uncle, as they introduced themselves. Aelin’s introduction was brief, since Sellene filled her family in on who she was beforehand, but they still made small talk. Though she wasn’t paying much attention, too caught up on the similarity between Sellene and Owen. Her friend joked about some strong traits running in her family, but this was uncanny.

“Genetics, huh?” Sellene said, a teasing grin on her face.

Aelin was staring, wasn’t she? Oops. “Yes, genetics.” She turned to Owen. “I can’t believe you’re not even her father!”

Rory laughed and urged them inside. “Come on, darling, there’s a lot of silver hair and green eyes for you to compare.” She smirked before she added, “And if you happen to like it, my son is single. Thirty-one, stable job, goes to the gym a lot—“

“Auntie,” Sellene reproached.

The matron frowned. “I’m not being very smooth, am I?”

Her husband gave her two gentle taps on the shoulder. “You’re never smooth at matchmaking, darling.”

Rory gave Aelin an apologetic smile before continuing, “We’re stuck with some housework right now, but if you can wait—“

“I’ll show her around,” Sellene said, waving her aunt off.

“Alright, then. Pick any empty room you’d like.” Rory turned to Aelin. “You and your little one are the most welcome, make yourselves at home,” she said with a beam before scurrying away to the kitchen.

And about Aelin’s little one: where the hell was she?

Sellene leaned closer to Aelin and murmured, “But you can totally flirt with my cousins if you’d like. There’s a whole bunch of them for you to pick.”

“I don’t think I’ll have time for that, but thanks.” Not that she wants to, but it’ll become a hard no if she’ll have to wrangle Maisie all the time.

“I saw them coming inside.” Sellene tugged Aelin. “Don’t worry, she’s safe here.”

“Your house is not.” At least not with her four-year-old on the loose.

The two women dropped their bags by the entrance and ran around looking for them, calling their names. Aelin couldn’t register much other than white walls and wooden furniture, her mind filled with what could Maisie possibly break in this small time frame, and how much it costs.

Aelin’s worry was peaking when she listened to her daughter’s voice coming from another porch, this one attached to the living room.

"Do you do your tattoos alone, or does your mom help you too?"

The man blinked, confused, until Maisie showed him the few Barbie bubblegum tattoos on her forearm. She gave it a pointed look, then to the many tattoos he had on his left arm, taking most of the limb.

Aelin decided it was best to make herself known, introduce yourself, and see if this stranger needed rescuing from her curious preschooler. She couldn’t see this man’s face from her point-of-view, but she had an inkling of who he could be because of his—shocker—silver hair.

“Maisie!” She called from afar, “I was looking for—“

The words died in her throat when she recognized the man before her. Aelin’s core felt ice-cold all of a sudden, despite the dangerous pounding of her heart. There was no way in hell this was happening, and she blamed Tinder for not requiring users to use their last name there.

“Aelin.” He made a point of looking at his bare wrist, as if checking the time. “I think you’re a bit late for our date.”

˜˜

Upstairs, in the safety of her bedroom, Sellene had the gall to cackle.

Aelin glared at her. “Could you not?”

Before ten minutes ago, her friend was absolutely clueless to the fact that Aelin and Rowan knew each other, just like she had no clue that Sellene and Rowan are cousins. But it saved her, since the woman walked into that porch and spared Aelin from doing any talking.

“Alright, lemme just…” Sellene turned away, as if Aelin couldn’t see her friend’s shoulders shaking from behind. Then she took a deep breath and turned back around. “Alright.” A twitch on the corner of her lips that was quickly concealed. “But you said you liked him?”

“That’s not the point!” Aelin said, pacing in the empty space between the bed and the wall.

Chatting with Rowan was nice, and she may have indulged in conversation with him more than she usually lets herself, but Aelin felt so drained after her divorce. She let herself be dragged to dates sometimes, but she didn’t have it in herself to fully face the dating scene again.

Sellene rolled her eyes and threw herself on the bed. “That’s the key point, actually. It’ll define our entire course of action.”

“Nope. Our course of action is whatever protects Maisie from this mess.”

Aelin was so afraid of fucking up Maisie’s Yulemas when she got here, she didn’t realize she’d potentially fucked up even before arriving. Her throat felt thick just to think of it.

Sellene squeezed her hand. “He’s not gonna cause a scandal or anything, Rowan’s not like that.”

“He’s not going to tell your incredibly welcoming family that I’m actually a cold-hearted milf that stood him up and ghosted?”

“Okay,” Sel trailed, grimacing. “He’s not like that, but he is a bit of a gossip, so…”

Aelin sat on the edge of the bed and groaned, her face resting in both hands. Whether he had a big mouth or not, she needed to fix this. Because she couldn’t put Maisie’s Yulemas in jeopardy, yes, but also because Rowan deserves an apology.

Truth is, Aelin never felt tempted to give a chance to the guys she chatted with, because everyone she met on Tinder could be classified as one of: a chronic manwhore, overall gross, or gross for a single but relevant reason, or a misogynist bigot. And sometimes she even liked to leave them stranded, especially when they fell into the latter category.

Usually, Aelin just acted flirty enough to let the guy think something other than coffee would happen, that way he’d run to their ‘date’ without wasting more of their time.

But there were exceptions, of course, and Rowan was one of them. He wasn’t exactly chatty, but she still found herself texting him back and forth late at night for almost two weeks. When he oh-so-gently requested to meet her in person after dropping some hints about it here and there to no avail, she knew she had to cut this short.

It was just business, or so she told herself when it was time to cancel the plans that were never bound to happen. Aelin didn’t have space in her life for much else.

But now the girls, Rowan and a few other Whitethorns were off to see the baby goats and some other kid-friendly farm animals, which gave Aelin a small time frame to plan her next move.

Sellene got up from her bed, nothing but determination on her face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: we’ll wait downstairs. When they come back, I’ll keep an eye on Maisie while you scurry him away to apologize.”

This was the lamest plan Aelin has ever gotten into. “I expected better scheming from you.”

“No scheming this time,” her friend warned, “just tell him the truth.”

And that was what Aelin kept in mind, as she waited with Sel in the kitchen under the disguise of chatting with Rory.

The kids barreled into the room a while later, chatting about the farm animals they saw, petted, or even fed. Rowan lingered on the other side of the kitchen, carefully avoiding Aelin’s eyes while he rectified the little one’s exaggerated stories with things like actually, no goat charged at them, they just wail all the time.

Despite the high excitement, Maisie’s attention drifted when she noticed the batch of gingerbread men coming off the oven.

“My grandma makes gingerbread people too,” she said to Rory, then frowned. “Do you know my grandma?”

Aelin’s heart squeezed at the sight. She was hoping to keep Maisie’s mind off her father’s family these holidays.

“I’m afraid not, honey. Is she from Doranelle too?”

“No, she lives very, very, very far. I need to get on a plane to see her.”

“That’s very far indeed.” Rory chuckled. “What’s she doing this year?”

Maisie shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t have Yulemas with Daddy this year because he’s stuck in prison.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on her little girl’s outcast expression as Aelin’s face grew impossibly hot. Gods, her daughter sure had a way with words.

“Because he’s a prison psychologist,” Aelin amended, to everyone’s relief, by the way their shoulders collectively relaxed.

Chaol wasn’t seeing his daughter these holidays because he was too busy in the Southern Continent with his girlfriend—former mistress—but there was no way Aelin was telling her little girl that. Work was the go-to excuse to why he missed so many bi-monthly visitations, and it worked for Yulemas too.

One day, Maisie would understand that Aelin has been a single mom since long before her divorce. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to postpone said realization for as long as she could.

“Oh, how silly of me! I forgot to get rosemary.” Rory changed the subject when silence reigned, thank Mala. The time when Chaol was a touchy subject was long gone, but people still tiptoed around it with her.

The woman continued, “Aelin, darling, could you get me some, please?”

“Sure…” she trailed, looking around. “Where can I—“

“Rowan will show you the garden,” Rory quipped.

And Aelin thought that getting him alone for a moment would be tricky. Clearly, she underestimated his mother.

Rowan glared at the older woman, but she didn’t waver. Instead, the more that odd exchange lasted, the more Rory seemed to enjoy forcing her son to spend time with someone he clearly didn’t want around.

Fuck, Aelin needed to fix this immediately.

He gestured to the open back door in the kitchen, and led her to a kitchen garden close to the house.

Sunshine glanced off the leaves which vegetables, herbs and fruit grew, and Aelin wished she could enjoy its beauty more. The smell of fresh herbs and sound of the leaves shuddering were the only soothing things, given the conversation she had ahead.

She waited for him to make a start, to no avail. Perhaps he did, earlier today when she first saw him, right before Sellene walked in and they pretended that first exchange didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry.”

Rowan’s step faltered for a second. He gave her a curt nod, and continued his stroll towards the rosemary shrubs.

She continued, “I shouldn’t have stood you up, it was really shitty of me and I totally deserve it if you hate me right now.” A pause. “But I was hoping we could put this aside for Yulemas, you know? Being in the same house and all.”

“Alright,” he said while slowly nodding, and Aelin’s shoulders loosened up with relief for a moment, until he finally looked her in the eye and added, “I'll go easy on you if you tell me what happened.”

“I told you, I’ve been having a hard time dating after my—“

“Yeah, you told me that in your apology text, but I feel like there’s something missing.”

He got her there. It was true, but not the ugly truth.

“Remember the shop I asked you to meet me at?”

He nodded.

“I own it. And my Tinder account is strictly for… cash inflow.”

This time, he fully stopped. He studied Aelin with widened eyes, and after judging the seriousness in her expression, he laughed. It was loud and full, overpowering the gentle flutter of the leaves and birds’ wings around them.

He kneeled by the shrub, snapped a few branches with his fingers, and it was just then that Aelin realized they had already arrived at their destination.

“You’re not mad?”

Rowan shrugged, and she wanted to read his expression so bad, but he had his back to her, still working on his mother’s rosemary. “I guess should be mad. I’m definitely impressed. It’s a very clever move.”

Aelin didn’t know if she should thank him or not. “But are we cool?”

He chuckled, something more amicable in his eyes this time, when he turned around. “Yes, sure. It was just online dating. Do you know how often people get ghosted? I wasn’t gonna start a riot because of that.”

“‘Kay, thanks.” He was being such a nice sport, his forgiveness only worsened the guilt she felt. “And though you’re right about that, I’d be totally mad and petty if someone stood me up. Just saying.”

“I wasn’t mad that you stood me up—“

Aelin sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.

He sighed and continued, “Alright, I was upset. Not mad. What actually made me mad is that you ghosted me after that.”

She stopped mid-stride, her head tilted. This made absolutely no sense. Rowan broke eye contact to rearrange the branches inside the small bag, making his fingers busy for a small moment of awkward silence that lasted a lifetime in Aelin’s head.

“I liked you, Aelin. You didn’t have to do that for me to visit your coffee shop.”

Aelin didn’t want to think about why his words stung, but they did.

˜˜

Engaging in conversation at dinner would be a lot easier if Maisie was eating, not showing Bree magic tricks.

She placed a french fry on the table, between her and her friend. “Now close your eyes,” Maisie commanded. When her friend complied, she shoved the fry in her mouth and said, “Ta-da!”

Bree opened her eyes, and the loud gasp she let out after noticing the fry was gone gave Aelin a good chuckle.

“Do it again!” Sellene’s daughter said, clapping her hands.

“Maybe you could do it with the cucumber this time?” Aelin cut in.

Maisie turned to her mother with all seriousness a four-year-old can muster. “Mommy, it’s Friday. We only eat fries.”

Being the little entertainer she is, the people near Maisie laughed, not for the first time this dinner. Including Rowan, who sat next to Sellene, almost in front of her. It was weird, hearing his laughter instead of reading a “haha”. A good weird. Still weird. For Mala’s sake, she needs to sort her feelings out.

“You are such a silly goose,” her friend said, fondness filling her eyes.

“No, Auntie Sel, you are a silly goose. I’m a silly gosling.” The little girl took her time pronouncing each syllable of the last word, careful to get it right.

Aelin’s mouth was ajar as she stared at her. “Where did you learn that?”

“Wowan.” Maisie said, beaming. “We’re bestest friends now because he’s an animal doctor, and he promised to show me all his animal friends so I can be friends with them too.”

“Is that so?” Aelin plastered on a smile, hoping it wasn’t too strained. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was nice enough to Maisie for her to consider him her new ‘bestest friend’, even before Aelin apologized. Fuck, she needed to unpack this later.

When she dared a glance at Rowan, he looked a little stiff, but still gave her a quick, close-lipped smile. “She likes the baby goats.”

Aelin would know. Maisie talked about them all day.

“Wowan, I’ll do a magic trick.”

He turned his full attention towards Maisie.

She continued, “Did you see me do it before?”

“Yes.”

“Try to forget.”

“I can’t do it, Maisie, I saw you do that trick too many times.” He leaned back on his chair, a lazy smirk on. “But I haven’t seen you make the cucumber disappear.”

She jolted on her seat, put a cucumber slice on the table, pointed a finger at Rowan and yelled, “Close your eyes!”

When he complied, Maisie ate that cucumber with a ferocity Aelin had never seen before.

“Dear Mala,” Rowan said when he opened his eyes, feigning shock. “Do it again.”

And that’s how he convinced her to eat every single vegetable on her plate. Fuck, he sure knows how to woo a single mom.

Not woo, Aelin chastised herself. Rowan said he liked her. In the past tense. Which should be a relief, but this wasn’t how she felt as she watched him smile at her daughter and make her have fun while eating healthy.

Rowan stole a glance at her, but Aelin had her eyes on him already. He swallowed, likely unsure of what to do after being caught staring while she was already staring.

Thank you, she mouthed so Maisie wouldn’t hear. To her surprise, his eyes softened, and he gave her a small smile.

Relief finally washed over her, when Aelin realized that the awkwardness in his expression had vanished.

˜˜

As predicted, Maisie was so hyper Aelin didn’t manage to properly enjoy the farm herself. But she didn’t mind it, since her daughter was the whole purpose of this trip. Besides, sometimes watching the kids play could be better than TV.

“I wanted to go out to eat with you, not you and your baby!” Maisie’s arms flailed around as she tried to explain her frustration.

Bree clutched her doll to her chest, a wounded look on her face. “But I can’t leave my baby alone!”

Rowan, who was just passing by the living room, froze when he registered what was going on. He turned to Aelin, confusion written all over his face, and discreetly sat by her side on the couch.

“Everything alright?”

Aelin pointed at the tea party toy set near the girls. “They’re at a pretend restaurant, eating pretend food and talking about their pretend jobs.” A pause so she wouldn’t start laughing here and there. “Maisie was expecting a girls’ night, but Bree brought her baby with her.”

“Oh, I see.” Aelin’s gaze swept over him for a minute, and it was unfair how good his pine-green eyes looked when they were filled with amusement like this. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m getting popcorn. You?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, “I think this is a very complex issue. We can’t read it under a Manichaean view.”

Aelin chuckled, and they fell into comfortable silence while watching the girls. Rowan’s pine scent hit her senses, but it was the chilly wind coming from the window that made her shiver.

“You cold?”

She shrugged. “Not that much.”

Rowan stood up. “I’ll warm us up.”

“You’re getting a blanket?”

“Better,” Rowan said, a troublesome glint in his eyes. “Wine.”

Not as effective as a blanket, but definitely more fun.

“Merlot?” He suggested with his head tilted.

Unbelievable. Aelin briefly mentioned her favorite type of wine to this man over text in a late night conversation, and he still remembered it weeks later.

Rowan seemed to misread her silence, his expression becoming guarded. “But I can share the bottle with Enda if you don’t feel like it.”

Aelin’s gaze quickly turned to her daughter before she focused back on him. “Can it wait until after Maisie’s bedtime?”

Rowan took a step back with a grin on, and his eyes wouldn’t leave Aelin. “I’ll get the snacks ready.”

After wrangling Maisie around the house a little more and putting her to bed, Aelin found herself in the same living room as before. However, this time, the tea party set on the table was replaced by a small charcuterie board and two glasses of red wine.

They talked about their lives for hours. Now it was nearing midnight, and none of them seemed to grow tired of each other’s companies. It was just easy like that with him, and she knew it. Too easy, was what Aelin told herself in her office as she let him down. Too easy to be true, and not the delusion of a lonely twenty-nine-year-old divorcée.

Aelin had so many reasons why she couldn’t give Rowan a real chance, but she couldn’t remember a single one of them right now. Actually, she could remember, they just felt… small.

Too bad she was too late.

“And you never thought to move back here? Being a vet and all?”

Rowan sipped his wine. “I’ve lived in the city since I was a teenager, my whole life’s there. But I visit a lot.”

“And your cousins?”

“Not as much, but Yulemas is always here.” He cocked his head, his expression shifting as he grinned at her. “Though the company is usually much less good-looking.”

Aelin blinked. She stared at the glass of wine. It was her second, and Aelin knew her limits. She wasn’t even tipsy. It couldn’t be.

“Rowan Whitethorn… are you flirting with me?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying for a while.” A pause. “Is it working?”

Wow. She looked around, mind racing and empty at the same time. A turned-off TV. Potted plants with fairy lights on. A mistletoe. Gifts under a tree.

Rowan was flirting with her.

Rowan, Maisie’s new “bestest friend”. Kind, attentive Rowan who remembered her favorite wine and looked as delicious as the Focaccia bread he stole from the kitchen for her.

Rowan, who seemed to give her a second chance even when she didn’t deserve it.

“It’s working, yeah.”

He didn’t dare say a word after her response, and neither did she. He leaned forward, barely blinking as he tried to meet her eye.

Aelin needed to say something. She wanted to say something else, but it was hard to do it while she felt her old resolutions shatter like a wall of glass.

Going on shitty date after shitty date so she could find someone reasonably good, until something happened and she had to go back to the stream of shitty dates? No, meeting new people was a hard no for now.

But it was different when she had already met someone, right? Aelin wasn’t ready to give dating a chance, but she was more than willing to give Rowan a chance.

She got up and tugged Rowan’s hand.

“What?”

Aelin tugged on it again, so he got up from the couch too. Wordlessly, she led him to a spot right under the beam that divided the living room and the hallway.

She pointed at the mistletoe above them. “Oh, look.”

“Wow.”

“I definitely didn’t see that and drag you here.”

“And my mother definitely didn’t fill the house with mistletoes tonight because she’s in love with you and Maisie.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she lied.

“So surprising.”

“Shocking.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Absolu—”

Rowan pulled their lips together, cupping her face with both hands while she wrapped her arms around him. Their lips brushed together, and it was almost unfair how soft he felt. He gently nipped hers so Aelin would open up to him, and the kiss was sweet and hungry at the same time. His hands traveled down her neck and arms, making her shiver, until he reached her waist and tugged her closer.

Well, fuck. If Aelin didn’t have any doubts about giving this a chance anymore, she didn’t know what to call it now. A negative amount of doubts? Anyway, her mind was jello. Aelin couldn’t know where this was going, but she knew she’d let it happen now. No more holding back.

Rowan broke the kiss and put their foreheads together, breathlessly breathing her in with closed eyes.

“If I ask you out on another date, will you show up this time?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, right before her parted lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “And I might even delete Tinder, depending on how large your coffee order is.”

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 5 months

Text

How Romantic | Stiles Stilinski

✦ pairing — Stiles Stilinski x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ *word count — 2.4k

✦ request — Stiles comes home from school for Christmas and surprises the reader? Maybe some supernatural element happened and snowed them in together, can be friends to lovers where Stiles uses that time to confess to her?

✦ warnings — light angst, reader hates the cold, fluff.

✦ author's note — made a tiny adjustment just so this would have some sense, hope that’s okay.

════════════════════════

Your mom didn’t tell you she wouldn’t be home the weekend you arrived. You found out through text when you asked her why she wasn't opening the door. She told you where to find the spare key and assured you she and your sibling would be back on Tuesday. It was Saturday.

There was food in the pantry, but you could go and buy something if you wanted to. It would do you good to explore the town; as much as you complained about the weird happenings, you would die of boredom if you stayed home while your family came back.

If there was something you liked about Beacon Hills, it was the weather. You didn’t fare well in the cold, never had, not even in vacations where the snowy scenery was breathtaking and the beverages soothingly warm.

You unpacked and changed your shoes. Your bedroom had been cleaned recently, the bedsheets were fresh and smelled of the fabric softener your mom had used all your life.

The doorbell rang. You wouldn’t make it through the weekend without having a stroke if you had to entertain one of your neighbors, you just wouldn’t — you didn’t need to be reminded that people found you cruel for leaving your mom and sibling to live with your dad in San Franciso.

Knowing they would call her if you didn’t open the door, you hurried your way down the stairs and took a deep breath. You could come up with something if needed, maybe the excuse of needing to buy groceries.

But you found your favorite person in Beacon Hills as you opened the door, and suddenly whatever it was you had been dreading was dumb and childish and maybe things weren’t so bad around here if it meant getting a big hug from Stiles Stilinski.

“What are you doing here?” you asked against his shoulder.

He laughed, squeezing you. “Your mom said you’d be here.”

That made you part from him. “You called my mom?”

“Needed to know where to go.”

The mere idea of Stiles visiting you at your dad’s made you giggle. Your dad didn’t hate him or anything, but he was the protective type and Stiles had always managed to get himself in the most ridiculous trouble, so your dad was weary.

A harsh gust of wind hit you, making you frown. It wasn’t uncommon for the night to grow colder, but it couldn’t have been that late. “Wanna come in?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Stiles closed the door himself, following you into the living room.

“Man, it’s just as I remember!”

You had to admit your mom took exceptional care of the house. She kept the furniture polished and the surfaces unblemished, just as she managed to keep every ornament around the place pristine; the Christmas ones included.

The tree was small compared to your dad’s, but your stepmom had always been known for going the extra mile. You would have stayed with them for Christmas if you didn’t love your mom and your sibling so much, and if you didn’t have to choose.

“When did you get here?” you asked. “Oh, you want something to drink?”

“This morning.” He welcomed himself into the kitchen and opened the fridge. A laugh escaped him. “Your mom still buys the same orange juice brand.”

“She refuses to change it.”

“Have you tried others?”

“Annie buys it fresh at the farmer’s market.”

He hummed. “It has pulp, though.”

“You can strain it.”

With a shrug, he grabbed a soda. “I, for one, don’t drink juice anymore.”

“Oh, you eat healthy now?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He cracked the can of soda open as if to make a point. “Juice goes bad before I can finish it.”

“Set a reminder on your phone.”

“Is that what you do?”

“I live with other three people, Stiles, the juice runs out in like two days.”

He hummed. “How’s that working out for you, by the way?”

“It’s okay,” you answered truthfully. “Kinda weird to have another sibling, but… she’s a sweet kid.”

Stiles stared at you as though reading you. It wasn’t your favorite trait of his if you were completely honest, but it came with the package. “I guess I have it easier.”

“Eh. I’m sure I live in the better city.”

He rolled his eyes. You always had this silly fight and always came on top because not much could defeat San Francisco.

“Is it getting cold or am I going crazy?”

“It’s a little colder than when I got here,” he agreed.

You went through the cupboards, looking for tea or coffee. You hated the instant coffee your mom bought out of habit, so you would have to settle for green tea.

Stiles laughed at your raccoon-like behavior. He inhaled deeply. “I was—” His phone started ringing. “Give a second.”

You nodded and turned back to your tea-making task.

“What’s up, dad?” Worry seeped into Stiles’ voice; not uncommon when it came to his dad —or Scott—. “Snowing? Are you drunk?” At that, you turned around and saw him wince. “Sorry. No, no, I’m at— yeah, I’m with her.”

You peeked through the kitchen window and sure enough, the patio was covered in glittering snow.

His eyes widened when he saw the snow falling. “Yeah. Call me if—” Stiles huffed a laugh. “Okay. Be safe.”

The wind picked up, making you shiver. The house had never been this cold before.

“Fuck. What are we going to do?” He gripped his hair, now a little longer and shinier. You supposed he started taking care of it. It would fall off if he continued tugging on it as though the world was ending.

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“It’s fine. The snow will melt eventually, we’re not stranded in the wild.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“It’s okay.” You patted his shoulder. “I can make us something warm to drink. Are you hungry?”

“Not really. Maybe later?”

“Sure.”

You both sat on the couch. Stiles continued sipping on his soda while telling you about one of his dumb classmates.

He seemed distracted, but then again, Stiles always seemed to have a lot in his mind.

“When was the last time it snowed here?”

You should have known he was thinking about that. “The seventies, I think.”

“It just doesn’t make sense.”

You had to agree. Things had stopped making sense in that town long ago. Even your mom, who loved Beacon Hills more than life itself, thought so.

Stiles knew of her borderline obsession with the town, how it ruined her marriage because she couldn’t accept your dad’s desire for a better life, a good career. “Has your mom mentioned anything weird going on?” he insisted. Now full-on detective mode.

“Like magic or…? She hasn’t, to be clear, but you gotta be more specific.”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that. Even if you call it magic, what kind of magic? Is it for nefarious purposes? Are they just pranking the town? Do they have the ability to cause more harm?”

Your eye twitched. “I'm going to bite you if you don't shut up.”

“Maybe I'm into that.”

“How romantic of you,” you grumbled.

You left that place because of all the supernatural bullshit and it still found some way to torment you the few times you visited.

It was a painful reminder of why you only liked small aspects of the town — you were even on the fence when it came to most people. Finding a sense of community was hard in Beacon Hills but your mom insisted otherwise.

"I wish I hadn't come," you admitted out loud. "Why did I listen to mom?"

"Come on, that's unfair. It's just the weather."

"Caused by a fucking curse or something worse! What if someone brought the apocalypse? I haven’t even graduated, and I will die here!"

You supposed he was used to it. His adventures, if you could call them that, had been some kind of fucked up exposure therapy.

There was a reason you never were part of the group, no matter how fond of Stiles you were or how sweet you thought Scott to be — you couldn't come with the things they went through on the daily.

Even hearing about it had been anxiety-inducing. Living it? No, thank you.

"I miss like fifteen minutes ago when I was the one freaking out."

"I miss when things were normal around here.”

"Hey.” He reached over, resting his warm hand on your knee. “I'm here. It's just you and me, okay? Whatever is going on — it can't hurt you. I won't let it."

You would have believed him if the lights didn't flicker for a second.

When the power didn't go out, he smiled at you. "See? Everything's fine."

"That's a stretch."

Stiles tilted his head, observing you. “Do you really hate this place?”

“I—” You pursed your lips and shrugged. “Hate might be too much, but sometimes I wish I could just leave it behind.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad.”

“Says the guy who visits once a year.”

He lifted his hands in surrender.

The cold started to become unbearable in mere jeans and a shirt. You made sure the windows were closed, and as you locked one, you saw just how thick the layer of snow had become.

Not a single inch of the driveway could be seen. “Holy shit.”

There was no way anybody would be able to leave their houses. If they were lucky enough to be home.

Stiles stood behind you, trying to see just what had shocked you so much. “Oh, man.”

“You think… you think this could be fixed?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “It has to, obviously, but…”

You nodded. It wasn't his fault. “I'll bring some blankets.”

“I'll make you some tea. You're shivering.”

You didn't realize until he told you, but you were in fact shivering.

Finding winter clothes wasn't as easy, and the blankets hadn't even been unpacked from the vacuum-sealed bags your mom kept in the closet.

You were too cold to move properly. The insulation helped with the heat in the summer, but for some reason, it had nothing on the cold.

You dropped some of the blankets through the stairs, scared you would fall if you attempted to carry all of them. Stiles picked them up and quickly laid a couple on the sofa.

“Your tea is ready,” he said softly. That worried tone of his appeared once more. “Come.”

You handed him a pair of sweatpants you snatched from your sibling's room and one of your hoodies. “These should fit if you want to be warmer.”

“Drink that,” he instructed you. “I'll be right back.”

You hugged the mug between your hands, warming up your fingers. The steam hit your face as you brought the mug closer to your mouth, making you aware of how cold the tip of your nose had gotten.

Your first sip didn't do much, but by the third one, you started to feel better. You didn't even know Stiles knew how sweet you liked your tea, but it was perfect.

He was back quickly, sitting beside you and draping one of the thickest blankets over both of your laps.

“Better?”

You hummed, reaching over for the TV remote. “Wanna look for something to watch?”

“Yeah.” He took the remote from you. “Let's see…”

Somehow, you ended up watching a baking contest. As the show continued, you and Stiles got closer looking for more warmth.

He laid on his back. You allowed him to rest his calves on your lap which earned you an incredulous gaze from him.

“Don't be ridiculous,” he told you. “Come here.”

You gave him a wary look. He insisted. You struggled, but you did as he said and laid on top of him, bringing the blanket with you as a cape.

Stiles fixed the blanket on top of you and snuck his hands between the fabric and your sweatshirt. Inhaling deeply, he said, "You smell good."

"I'm trying this perfume out, see if I finally find the one."

"The one perfume, or...?"

"Yeah,” you laughed. “What else?"

"You know, the one."

"Oh, that. Might be too late. Or too soon, who knows? But... doesn't feel plausible right now." You fixed your eyes on the TV where one of the contestants had just burnt caramel. “What an idiot,” you criticized, not truly meaning it. You had never made caramel before in your life, you probably never would attempt to.

Stiles, being Stiles, didn't let you change the subject. "Why not? School?"

"I don't give a shit about school, Stiles. It's nice to have friends and you know, have fun. Things just never work out in the more-than-friends aspect."

"That's great,” he exclaimed in glee.

You lifted your head off his chest. "What?"

"Shit, no, I didn't mean it like that." He fisted your sweatshirt from the back to keep you in place. “I had it all planned, you know? But the snow and its weirdo master or whatever caused this had to ruin it.”

“Ruin what?” you asked softly, afraid you would start assuming nonsense if he didn't explain himself.

“We were supposed to go to Santa's village and ride the Ferris wheel, and I was going to tell you there, maybe bribe the guy so he got us stuck up there for a while… we would look at the town from above and it would have been very romantic, actually.”

“Romantic,” you repeated.

“I really like you," he sighed out. "It's kind of an understatement if I'm being honest.”

So it wouldn't have been nonsense after all. "I... I like you too. Have for a while."

"Yeah?"

You hummed. "I thought it was obvious."

"I thought I was being obvious."

You shook your head. Stiles never gave any indication that he was interested in you, not in that way. He was always nice and considered your opinions, but you chalked that up to being good friends.

"I need to start being obvious, then." His hand came up to the back of your head. "Can I kiss you?"

You kissed him first, resting your hands on his chest. Stiles smiled into the kiss, pushing your face closer to his.

As you both parted for air, he said, "We'll figure it out, right?"

You could only assume he was referring to the distance. "I hope so."

"Let's enjoy these days first," he suggested, for once not being the one to worry. "We should probably make some phone calls, and find out what's going on with the snowstorm." He gave you a quick kiss. "Later, though."

You laughed but agreed. Stiles and you spent the evening sharing lazy kisses and chaste touches, sure you would eventually have enough time to do everything more and the small things in between.

Maybe snowstorms weren't so bad.

Oh, who were you kidding?

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x plus size reader

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aanoia · 9 months

Note

rip james potter I believe he would’ve loved taylor swift and for some reason I associate him specifically with London Boy so can you write something w that plsss I love ur writing

YES james would be a swiftie and everyone knows it. I rly hope I did this justice bc there are so so many lyrics, t swizzle makes it so difficult sometimes

London Boy

James Potter x reader words; 2255 song; London Boy by T Swizzle warnings; none rly, js a douchy Ravenclaw my masterlist Remus is Elvis, James is Taylor, Sirius is Lana. PROVE ME WRONG. u cant. anyway, i tried making pancakes for breakfast (at 1pm) and it did not go well. I used three pans and burned multiple pancakes but oh well if you love a song, the marauders, and my writing, request a song fic and your wish shall be my command. HAVE FUN

(I've used this gif so many times and idec)

(We can go driving in, on my scooter)

(Ah, you know, just 'round London)

I love my hometown

As much as Motown, I love SoCal

And you know I love Springsteen

Faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey

Transfering from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts was quite a difficult thing to do. The culture shock, the stares, the comments on your accent, everything. It was so much different and dare I say, maybe even better. But that’s mostly because every pretty girl and cute boy you saw had such a dreamy accent you fell in love on the spot.

But something happened, I heard him laughing

I saw the dimples ﬁrst and then I heard the accent

I abruptly stopped walking as the most beautiful sound on Earth filled my ears.

“Y/n?” My new friend and roommate, Lily, asked.

“Who is making that sound?” I asked, peaking around the corner. His bright smile and adorable dimples made my heart speed up as Lily looked over my shoulder and scoffed.

“He’s not worth it, Y/n. That’s James Potter, he's a total dick.” She said, pulling me back but I froze again as his voice filled my ears. I looked at Lily with an open mouthed smile and she shook her head at me, fighting off a small smile of her own and grabbing my arm, dragging me away.

They say home is where the heart is

But that's not where mine lives

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Sirius joked as Y/n sauntered away, her usual smirk still on her face despite being rejected for the thousandth time.

James threw a piece of toast at his face, “Shut it, Pads.”

“I don’t understand.” Remus started. “You obviously like her, why do you keep saying no?”

“He likes the attention, duh.” Peter spoke up with a teasing smile. James rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

“Maybe it is a little nice to finally receive the same attention I used to give out, but is that so wrong?” He asked and Remus shook his head.

“Well, I think it is. It wore down on you, Prongs. And you know it. Eventually, it started to hurt you a lot, who says that’ll be different for her?”

You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon

“I’m actually really glad I finally said yes.” James said as we sat in the Three Broomsticks.

I snorted, “Me too. We Americans know how to date, alright. With me, you’ll have the time of your life.”

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet

Darling, I fancy you

I smiled widely as I made eye contact with James from across the classroom. He blushed and winked, before scribbling down on a piece of parchment, balling it up and throwing it to me. I unfolded the paper and smiled at the writing. Wanna go out? Yes ☐, Yes ☐ I laughed quietly and wrote down my answer, throwing it back and almost hitting another student in the head.

He frowned at my answer and I winked back, making him shake his head with a silent laugh.

Nope ☑

Took me back to Highgate

Met all of his best mates

“I will beat you, silly American.” Sirius seethed, scanning the chess board as I sat, smirking widely.

“Nah, you won’t, Brit.”

“Y/n, you should really give me your notes for Potions, I fell asleep.” Peter said with a sheepish smile and I motioned towards my bag, not taking my eyes off the board.

“I finished the book.” Remus said, coming into the common room. “Thank you for letting me borrow it, Y/n. It was a truly amazing book, and your annotations made it even better.” He said, setting the book on my bag and I gave him a thumbs up.

My smirk grew as I met Sirius’ eyes.

He shook his head, “Don’t you dare.” I opened my mouth. “Y/n, don’t say it. Don’t do i-”

“Checkmate.” He groaned in annoyance and flipped the board. I giggled as I picked up the pieces, proud of my win. Little did I know James watched me with a fond smile as he witnessed me interact so greatly with the people that meant most to him. Next stop, his parents.

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you, ooh

“Hello, dears. Come on in.” James’ mother said with a warm smile and I nodded, stepping into her cozy home with a smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” I said kindly and she waved me off.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine. When I found out my little Jamesie finally got himself a girlfriend I was ecstatic!” She giggled and James groaned.

“Mom!”

And now I love high tea

Stories from Uni and the West End

You can ﬁnd me in the pub

We are watchin' rugby with his school friends

“No, no, no- ahh damnit.” I groaned, the Quidditch team I rooted for losing the game in anger as Sirius cheered.

“Yes! Take that, Miss America!” Sirius boasted and I rolled my eyes, shoving his shoulder roughly.

“You’re an ass, Black.” I said with a smile so he knew I was joking.

Show me a grey sky, a rainy cab ride

Babes, don't threaten me with a good time

“Let’s dance.” I said, standing up from the ground and brushing myself off before offering my hand to James.

“In the rain?” He asked, his eyebrows raised.

I nodded, “Yes. In the rain.”

James laughed and shook his head before taking my hand and lifting himself up. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”

“Why of course, kind sir.”

They say home is where the heart is

But God, I love the English (THE BEST PART OF THIS SONG)

“You guys, I’m gonna be so for real with y’all here, I will never get tired of hearing your voices.” I said seriously and everyone burst out laughing. I shrugged, “I’m serious-” I pointed at Sirius who opened his mouth to make a joke. “Don’t even think about it. But, if I could listen to you guys 24/7 I would, other than Sirius of course. His voice makes me wanna stab my ears with a butter knife.”

“You’re mean.” Sirius pouted and James placed a big kiss on my cheek with a proud smile.

“That’s my girl.” He said proudly.

You know I love a London boy

I enjoy nights in Brixton, Shoreditch in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet

Darling, I fancy you

“Dude.” I said to James as we laid on our stomachs in the common room, the fire crackling next to us.

“Dude.” He responded, a lazy smile on his lips.

“I like, hm, how do you English put it?” I feigned thinking for a second and gasped. “Ah yes, I like, fancy you or something.”

“Or something?” He asked.

“Mhm.” I hummed.

He lifted up on his elbows, resting his chin in his hand. “Well, I like, fancy you or something, too.”

Took me back to Highgate

Met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you

“Do you miss Ilvermorny?” James asked quietly as we cuddled on his bed, the only sound being Sirius’ soft snores.

“Sometimes. I miss my friends mostly.” I told him and he hummed.

“If you had the opportunity to go back, would you? Like completely move back and start attending Ilvermorny again.”

I thought about it for a second before shaking my head, despite James not being able to see it, “No. I wouldn’t. There’s this boy here-”

James laughed quietly, “Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s super super cute and his voice is music to my ears, I’m telling you. He’s also super good at Quidditch and because of that he's got thunder thighs and thick thighs save lives.” He laughed, trying to muffle it so his friends didn’t wake up. “He’s just amazing. So I wouldn’t want to leave him, or any of the new friends I’ve made.”

So please show me Hackney

Doesn't have to be Louis V up on Bond Street

Just wanna be with you

Wanna be with you

“Uh, excuse me, why are you bothering my girlfriend?” James asked, wrapping his arm around my waist and I deflated, instantly feeling comfort.

The Ravenclaw boy in front of us scratched the back of his neck, “Sorry. Didn’t know you guys were dating, though, Y/n, you could do much better than this Gryffindor slug.” He shrugged and James tensed.

“You littl-”

“James.” I said, placing my hand on his arm. “He’s not worth it, take a chill pill.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Listen to your little bitch.” The Ravenclaw said, turning around and walking back to his snickering friends.

I pulled my wand out quickly and muttered a quick spell at his back, causing him to fly forward, knocking over him and his friends who all groaned in pain on the floor. I looked up with a smirk and made eye contact with Professor McGonagall, my smile dropped. She glanced at the knocked over boys and then back at me, winking and walking away as if she didn’t see a thing.

Stick with me, I'm your queen

Like a Tennessee Stella McCartney on the Heath

Just wanna be with you (wanna be with you)

Wanna be with you (oh)

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” Dumbledore said with a smile on the stage. “The Yule King and Queen.” He opened the envelope slowly, dragging it out as long as he could. His smile widened as he read the winners. “James Potter and Y/n L/n, except, Y/n is our King and James is our Queen.” The students laughed loudly as James and I high fived, planning it all along.

We walked onto the stage and got our crowns before bowing dramatically to the crowd who chanted our names, hands in the air. Dumbledore shook his head in amusement, his own laughs falling from his lips.

“Oh, children.” He muttered, walking off the stage.

'Cause you know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking Soho, drinking in the afternoon (yeah)

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet

Darling, I fancy you (you)

“Are you ready?” James asked, mounting his broom and giving me his signature smile.

I shook my head, “Nope. I don’t trust you one bit, James. You’re gonna kill me, I’ve seen how you fly.” I said, taking a step away from the broom.

James held out his hand, “Come on, don’t be a wuss.” I sighed and got on the broom behind him, immediately wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. He laughed and flew up in the air. “This is something I could get used to.” He said and I could hear his smile.

“Me too.”

Took me back to Highgate

Met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true (yeah)

You know I love a London boy (oh)

Boy (oh), I fancy you (I fancy you)

“So, James, will you marry me?” I said on my knee and James snorted.

“You’re such a dork.” He teased and also got down on one knee, pulling a small box from his pocket.

“No shit, you copycat.” I said with a smile as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful ruby ring.

“Y/n, I’ll marry you if you marry me.” He said and I nodded.

“It’s a deal then.”

So please show me Hackney

Doesn't have to be Louis V up on Bond Street

Just wanna be with you

(Boy, boy, I fancy you, oh whoa, oh, oh)

“Hello, Harry.” I whispered quietly to my newborn, gently brushing the little bit of hair he had out of his face.

“You two are so beautiful.” James said from my side, admiring his son.

“He’s gonna be British.” I said with a smile and James snorted. “I’ve always wanted a little British baby.”

“You are so weird.”

I kissed James, “You love me.”

“I do.”

Stick with me, I'm your queen

Like a Tennessee Stella McCartney on the Heath

Just wanna be with you

(Wanna be with you)

(I fancy you, yeah, I fancy you)

“Bye, Harry! Have fun!” I yelled out, pushing down my tears as eleven year old Harry boarded the Hogwarts express for the first time. “Be safe!” I sighed as the train took off and spun the ring on my finger.

“I hope those twins let him help with pranks. You know I slipped them the map.” James said from beside me and I looked at him with wide eyes.

“You what?”

He nodded proudly, “Yep. I slipped the Marauders map into George's bag. Or was it Fred? You know, I really have no clue with those two.”

I snorted and patted his shoulder, turning around to walk out of the platform, but yelped as I was pulled back. James turned me around and planted a fat kiss on my lips, a smile evident on his face.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on mine, “Let’s have another kid.”

I snorted, “Two of you are enough, I don’t need a third.”

“That sounded like a yes.”

“It sounded like a no.”

It apparently was a yes.

Ooh wooh ooh

taglist (if u wanna be added comment);

@loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #remus lupin #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #james potter x reader #harry potter #marauders headcanon #marauders #peter pettigrew #the maruaders #james potter

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mephinomaly · 6 months

Text

[TL] BIOHAZARD/Prologue

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Time: Early March in the first year of ES’s establishment

Location: In a underground livehouse, one of UNDEAD’s haunts

Keito: (What is that?)

(What the hell is happening…?)

Rei: 『♪~♪~♪』

Kaoru: 『♪♪♪♪♪』

Koga: 『H！E！L！L！』

Adonis: 『S！I！N！G！』

Koga + Adonis: 『We are 『HELLSING』 ...☆』

Keito: I have no idea what’s going on—

HELLSING…? No matter how I look at it, that’s UNDEAD!

Rei: 『♪~♪~♪』

Kaoru: 『♪♪♪♪♪』

Keito: Oi! Listen up!

I know this isn’t a great time but I need to ask you guys something!

Adonis: —Hey. Oogami, Oogami, Hasumi-senpai is in the stage wings making a racket.

I am not sure how our senpais will react to this, so I think we should deal with him before something bad happens.

Koga: Nah, if somethin’ was gonna happen, it woulda happened by now.

Actually, I don’t want this important live t’be interrupted. Guess we’ll have t’see what he wants.

Oi, shitty glasses— Whaddya want?

Can’t you see we’re in the middle of rehearsal?

Keito: Let me make this clear first of all - I have no intention of interrupting your activities. I’m no longer the vice-president of the Student Council so I have no reason to be supervising the activities of problem children like you.

Koga: God, you fuckin’ know how t’waffle on and on. So why are you here if it’s got nothin’ t’do with us? Random person who looks good in glasses, whaddya want, hmmmm?

Keito: Well I don’t see how that’s relevant. We once donned the same costumes and participated in the same activities, and now we share an agency.

And that is precisely why I, as a representative of RhythmLink, have gone out of my way to come ask you this.

Your recent “peculiar activity” has become troublesome for the agency.

Therefore, I’d like to know what’s happening, UNDEAD.

Firstly-, what is “HELLSING”?

Koga: ...

Keito: Why are you keeping quiet, Oogami?

Can’t you explain it to me? After all, as you quite rightly said, you and I are in different units and are complete strangers who–

Adonis: Please wait a moment, Hasumi-senpai. I don’t think Oogami will be able to explain this very well.

Truthfully, we don’t really know what’s going on ourselves—

Koga: Shut it, Adonis. Yer actin’ like a parent who’s watchin’ their kid run their first errand. Stop addin’ unnecessary shit to the conversation.

Adonis: But, Hasumi-senpai will probably be able to offer useful advice—

Koga: Shut up! He fuckin’ said it himself, he ain’t got nothin’ to do with us anymore!

Now you’re actin’ like your our parents and tryna stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong! Stupid shitty glasses.

Keito: That was never my intention… I’m really– no, I mean, I’m worried about you.

I always end up imposing Oogami with heavy burdens that are my own responsibility.

Koga: Oi, don’t apologise! They told me to take it on, and you told me it was a lot anyway!

…Seriously man, don’t worry ‘bout it. HELLSING is just a different name we, UNDEAD, use on stage.

Recently, the hardcore rock image we use on stage versus the stupid silly image we use on like, variety shows is creatin’ a divert… divertent?

Adonis: A divergence?

Koga: Yeah, that! It’s creating a divergence in terms of how we present ourselves, so we thought that we could just use different names whether we’re on stage or doin’ our regular activities!

It’s like those mangas you fuckin’ love so much. They use different names dependin’ on what they’re doin’.

Keito: Umu… I suppose that’s true, as there are mangaka that operate under different pseudonyms based on if they are working on commercial materials or R-18 material.

Though generally, fans can tell from their art style that it is the same person.

Adonis: I don’t know much about manga but. Think of it as a parent company setting up subsidiaries, where each brand markets different things dependent on what activities they engage in.

Our, so to speak, immoral, radical activities will be handled by HELLSING, and our more friendly and palatable activities handled by UNDEAD.

Only what we do and the name has changed, the members remain the same. Me, Oogami, Sakuma-senpai, and Hakaze-senpai.

Keito: So what’s the point in doing all this…?

Koga: Shut uppp, there’s a ton of reasons. I get you’re a producer ‘n all but why’s it any of your business?

Keito: ...

Koga: …It’s whatever, alright?

This is what I wanted. To be honest, the fans are a little confused but everyone else is pretty happy with it.

I feel like I can actually breathe now I’m not bein’ forced t’do stupid varieties shows ‘n shit like that.

So that means it’s a good thing— all of it is.

I said it’s fine so everyone who says otherwise should shaddup!

『♪~♪~♪』

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 1

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #UNDEAD #rei sakuma #kaoru hakaze #adonis otogari #koga oogami #keito hasumi #flackback #wooo undead climax woooo

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atzfilm · 1 year

Text

clair de lune. (m) - part seven

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

pairing; ot8/f.reader

word count: 23k

warnings; manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut, gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, brief talk of religion, mass murder

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

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

masterlist | final

Chapter 7:

He balances the two fruits in his hands. In another time, maybe years from now, it’d be humorous to take the box of peaches and bring them home to you. Maybe you’d scold him but laugh after a while. But now, it’s not the case. He grimaces at the thin film coating the apples, eyes flicking to the imported country it came from. He only sighs, placing it lightly on the top of the pile and continuing down the aisle. What other fruits did you like? He cannot recall any that you’ve mentioned, Wooyoung being the one to insist on buying you peaches. It’s interesting that none of them asked you if you truly liked it, if it was your favorite fruit just as it was Rose’s. Another failure on their part, he supposes. In all honesty, he cannot recall you mentioning anything about peaches. He throws in a few vegetables he’s seen you eat without scrunching your nose, a warmth overcoming him at the image. Though you are not as close with him as many of the others, he enjoys your presence, nonetheless. If it were possible to somehow turn back time, make you see him as he is now, he would have. If it were so, maybe you’d see him in a different light. Maybe you would smile at him just as you do with Yeosang.

Or did, rather.

He sighs, placing his basket upon the counter and softly thanking the cashier for scanning. Just as he begins to bag a familiar scent fills his nose.

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, not bothering to glance back to see the man. “We have an agreement, Han. Or are you too isolated from the others that Subin cannot reign you in?”

“Your scent has always been in its best condition.” He enters his view, leaning against the wall as he watches him pack the food. “I’d never thought I'd see the day Park Seonghwa shopped in a market.”

“Come back at the same time in a few days and you’ll see me again.” He ties the bag, eyes flicking to his old friend’s. He looks sickly in comparison, skin translucent, eyes bloodshot. Even his hair looks thin and brittle, the long strands framing his face can easily fall with a high burst of wind. At another time, he’d feel pity. On another day, he’d even offer him some blood. But all he can do is shake his head, stepping past him.

“You treat me as if we were never friends, Park.”

“What do you expect me to do, welcome you with open arms?” Seonghwa holds the door for him. “We’ve had an agreement for over a century. And as you may know, it’s been broken a few times the past few months. Not wise to come here and break it even more.”

“I have not touched one human on your side.”

“That I can tell,” his breath is long as he turns back to him. “What do you want? Blood? I cannot give it to you, you know that. Joong would kill me before even touching you. And I'd rather keep all my limbs. They're quite helpful–"

"I don't care for blood, Park. If that were the case, I would have left long ago."

He doubts that entirely on his appearance alone. But he lets him speak. There's little chance for anything other than a few jabs here and there. Maybe an insult. "What do you desire then?"

"y/n is leaving," he starts. "Asking how I know is a moot point, but everyone knows. Clans beyond just ours. We aren't sure if Sejun shared it or not, but word is spreading. She will not be as safe as you think outside your walls. Once she is away, she will be hunted. Every vampire desires to taste the blood of the descendant of the first woman who was turned. Especially since she belongs to you all. It will not end well."

It is as he expected. Seonghwa grips his bag, thinking. The first thought is to tell Hongjoong, have him come up with a plan. The next, perhaps tell you of the danger? Have you stay longer in their care? He doubts you'd even consider it. But what other choice does he have? Letting you step outside and die? Seonghwa’s gaze moves to your old best friend's.

"What are you gaining out of telling me this?"

"Protection."

If his brows could furrow tighter, they would. "Pardon?"

He sighs loudly, glancing behind him before turning back around. "Subin is planning something big, and I need your word that you will protect me when it happens. I will do anything for my clan leader, but I cannot and will not risk my life for a woman I barely know."

"That's quite sad, seeing as she's been your friend for several years now."

"Seonghwa," He hisses.

"I cannot promise something that has no value. Unlike you, I am under the will of my captain. What he says goes. If he wants me to kill you at this very moment, I'd do it without hesitation. My loyalty is solid. I am sorry." And it is genuine. Having to nearly beg on your knees in front of your enemy for your life is not what he wishes upon any. It goes beyond pathetic. Almost revolting as he sees the defeat in Seungwoo's gaze.

"Will any of you ever think for yourselves? It's been hundreds of years and you are still under his thumb. It's pitiful. Especially for you, Seonghwa. He will never look at you the way he looks at her. Sooner or later you'll see that he will pick her every time."

His grip tightens around the bag in his hand. "My interpersonal relationships are of no consequence to you. And you're telling me things I already know. Do you think that I've spent these years deluded? I know where I stand in my relationships. But it seems that you still don't," he takes a step toward him. "I feel bad for you. Your clan leader is so involved with himself that he does not care about all of you. Hongjoong could care about me the least and he will never neglect me to the point I'd have to follow my enemy into a grocery store, and beg for protection. It's laughable, now that I look at you."

His lip quips at the glare forming on his face.

"Seems like I've been wrong about you. You're the same as the rest."

"That's your fault for taking my kindness for weakness, Han. Now go before one of the others appear. They don't take trespassing as lightly as I do."

Seungwoo stands there for a moment longer. He looks as if he wants to say more, but all he does is shake his head, disappearing down the street. Once he's out of view, Seonghwa sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Mild surprise is an understatement. He'd rather not deal with the aftermath of telling the others of his presence, but lying by omission will only make everything much worse.

He slides into his slippers just as he enters his home. There's always a few conversations happening when he enters, often Wooyoung bickering with San, or Mingi and Yunho teasing one another. But all he can hear is silence. He glances in the empty living room before entering the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table. Should he check up on you? Or have you left somewhere with the others? It's not uncommon for one of them to steal you without telling anyone else.

A door just outside the kitchen slams against the wooden pane, splintering from the force. Seonghwa winces, sighing. What happened now? He leaves his groceries unmanned, peeking out the kitchen doorway. Yunho stands there, pacing back and forth, gaze glossed over. He doesn't bother saying a word to him, Mingi stepping out of the room after him. His eyes flick to Seonghwa, widening before looking away.

Said man’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What happened?”

“He took her, hyung,” Mingi whispers, wincing as Yunho’s fist hits the wall beside him. “We were too slow, we didn’t get to her in time.” The steaming coffee in his hand spills, skin unaffected.

Without another word, Seonghwa moves past the both of them, striding down the hall. His eyes move to the small group of them crowding around your door. They step aside as he enters her room. The first thing he notices is the broken window, and no signs of you. All he could think is that you're gone. They lost you when you were underneath their roof. And he was out and about, unable to help.

Just like before.

“I’ll take care of you, y/n. I’m not like the rest of them,” his touch is rough, bumpy scars dragging along your cheek. You flinch but he only digs his nails deeper, forcing you to stare at him. Just as he leans forward, you let out a brief cry. His eyes narrow, letting you go. You tug on the metal that encases your ankles, grunting. It’s hopeless, fruitless, you know that. Especially with him standing there and watching you. But you’re desperate, your thoughts only on you leaving.

“What do you hope to achieve with this?” You ask, turning to him. “Do you think this kidnapping will make me trust you? Because I feel far from it, Sejun.”

“From what I remember you liked being tied up.”

“I am not Rose,” your tone is filled with exhaustion. It’s as if none of them listen. You’re not that woman, you’ll never be. No matter how much they desire it. “I”ll never be her. All of you need to move on for fuck’s sake.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “You don’t remember anything at all? Those little visions didn’t help you figure out that they’re fucked in the head? Vampirism doesn’t only force you to suck the blood out of humans forever, y/n. It does some crazy shit to you. Makes you believe things that aren’t true. They don't love you, never will.”

He leans against the wall. "You say you're not Rose but you are just as stubborn, just as oblivious. Though she did take the easy way out while you seem to be hanging on a bit longer," His head tilts as he loses himself in thought. "You said you were leaving, where are you going?"

"Home."

His brows furrow. "Home? You’ve decided to endanger your family because you're afraid of solving your own problems? Taking that great of a risk is not wise. They want you, and they will do anything for it. Your family will only end up being pawns. Though I am sure they know where they live, entering your family’s home is a death sentence."

"Then what can I do? They're all I have; none of my friends respond to my calls or texts, my apartment is flooded, I have nothing. All I have left is them, and I can't stay there," You can feel the tears threatening to fall. "Your brother poisoned me, you know that? He wanted me to be like them so desperately he fucking poisoned the peaches I ate."

A surprised laugh punctuates his sentence, shaking his head. "A bit of a shock, no? That kid loves human warmth more than anything. Thought he'd let you live longer than that. Must have ruffled his feathers in some way," he tsks. "Too late now, I suppose."

"Why did you pretend to be Seonghwa?" You ask, ignoring his harsh words. "Why would you try to convince me to stay?"

He shrugs, "To make you believe that I was actually him. I was taking you with me either way. Just easier for you to think I was him so we could leave without catching unnecessary attention. Unfortunately plans changed when you noticed my body temperature," he sighs, rubbing his forearm. "Pity that Hongjoong couldn't duplicate it for the rest of them. You wouldn't have noticed then."

"Why would he turn you?"

"Believe it or not," he rocks on his heels. "Him and I were good friends before this all happened. For a while. Longer than he's known the clan he's with now. Not as close, no, but I was the experiment of his. The first person he turned," his sigh is exaggerated, prolonged. "The person who made him into this didn't exactly like that. Made it so no one else could be as we are. He probably hates my existence now, but there's little he can do about it. Him and I are nearly the same age, give or take a few years. But that matters so little, so I digress."

There's something bothering you about his words. The possibility of him being the first turned is fine, sure. But it wouldn't make sense if he's Wooyoung's brother. He watches you as you think it through, head spinning. The way Wooyoung crumbled to the ground when he saw him, they must be related in some way. Devastation like that is hard to fake.

"Wooyoung and I are not blood brothers," he interrupts your thoughts, answering the lingering question. "He believes it because his captain convinced him. The reasoning is beyond my own knowledge, but I followed everything he said back then. Not as much now, since his influence no longer works on me. I've learned to ignore those deep whispers in my mind," he taps his temple. "Unfortunately, Wooyoung will never know. But lies fall from his lips anyway so he shouldn't be that disappointed."

"I saw how he looked at you, Sejun. He cares for you deeply, cared. He thought you were dead. He’d be broken if he found out the truth." The way his hold trembled against yours in that shop, the drop to the floor due to the onslaught of emotions. "You speak of him like he's an inconvenience."

"That he is," he shrugs. "You were my goal in the end, nothing more. His attachment to a man that died hundreds of years ago is none of my concern."

"Why me?"

This time he stares, eyes flicking over your body. It chills you the way his stare hardens, swallowing slowly. "When Rose was alive I made mistakes. It's nothing I can fix nor apologize for because she's dead. And before your thoughts stray, I am not obsessed with you like the others. I acknowledge that you are different. It is just that, the thought of there being another Rose was impossible in my mind. No, in fact, it was never a thought of mine. Once she died, the horror was over. All of us would be able to live our separate lives without ever meeting again. Subin made the choice of keeping an eye on them, which was a mistake, but in a way, a good thing. Neither of us would have found out about you.

"Hongjoong has always had this obsession with things that were out of his reach. The past is irrelevant now, but much of it can explain why he is the way he is now. To put it simply: He has been in love with every iteration of you. And every time he gets close, he loses you. Rose, her mother, her grandmother. I thought the line would have ended since Rose was unable to have children. Unfortunately her soul still lives on," His nose wrinkles. "Thousands of years have only made the obsession fester rather than dissipate. Your appearance resembling Rose has only amplified his delusions. None of this is your fault, y/n. If it were possible to change your face, your soul, it would have been done already. I owe that much to your prior life,” his eyes flick over you, pained. “Saying sorry to you means nothing because you’re not her, but I am. I am deeply apologetic.”

You take in his words, eyes glued to the floor. Rose had a hard life from the glimpses you’ve witnessed. She struggled every waking moment, moreso when she met this clan. You’re not sure what happened between her and Sejun, but from the way he speaks they were involved somehow. Romantically more than likely; from what you’ve seen, Rose enjoyed her extracurricular activities. And Sejun is far from ugly. You suck in a breath, thinking. Is there any way to convince him to let you go? It may be unlikely since he infiltrated their home just to get you. So why, what is the reason?

“What are you planning on doing with me, then?”

He swallows slowly. “I owe Subin. To put it simply: I fucked up back then and ruined everything. I never got the chance to apologize to him, so I told him I’ll do him a favor. He wanted you, so I agreed. It would have been farther down the line, but Hanse is dead now. He only has a few left in his clan and he doesn’t want to risk any of them. So he asked me to get you. I’m supposed to bring you to him right now actually, but I wanted to speak to you alone. Hopefully get a look into that head of yours, and see what you’re thinking. So far there’s nothing interesting.”

“An insult, how kind of you,” you frown. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I can see why it’s hard for them to tell the difference. You’re more alike than you think.”

“The restraints then?” you gesture to them. “Do you expect me to run? I wouldn’t get far, anyway.”

“You still tugged on them a bit. And it’s easier to speak to you without having to chase you around this room," he slides down the wall, sitting. "Maybe try to change your mind about going back to them after this all blows over."

"... I'm not going back."

He chuckles dryly, "Right. Just like the sun isn't going to rise tomorrow. Listen, Subin is going to attempt to kill you."

"What the fuck?" You pull harshly on the chains. "And you expect me to just agree?"

"Who the hell would agree to that?" He scoffs. "No, I'm warning you before we get there. Just because I owe him a favor doesn't mean I'm gonna let you walk in there blind. Rose back then wanted him to kill her if she was close to turning, and he agreed to it. In his mind he believes the promise is still valid despite you two being different people. Tell him no, and agree to his plan that he suggests otherwise. We will move from there."

"We, there's still a we in this? How can I believe anything you're saying?"

He stands, moving closer to you. He tugs lightly, chains immediately falling apart in his grip. "There's no reason for you to. You shouldn't believe any of us in all honesty. All of us have our agendas. Mine just happens to line up with yours. I don't want you to die. Not like this. Not again. Suffering in another life because of all of us. It's hard to believe I know that, but what options do you have? Subin, the kid that wants to bury you? Your newly adopted clan that's willing to turn you into one of them without your permission? Again? Rough choices."

You rub your wrist as you look up at him. He crouches and pulls off the restraints around your ankles. There are choices. You can run, eventually get caught by one of them. Try to kill them, though you are very aware of how that ended for Rose. And you have less than half of the confidence and strife she had back then. You couldn't even watch the man who poisoned you suffer, unlikely you'd be able to hurt any of them yourself. Running home. Risking your family– No. You look at Sejun. You cannot trust him, but what else can you do? What other choice do you have?

"I don't trust you."

"I know."

"All of this, in the end, will I be free?"

He stares at you. "Honestly? Probably not. I might die before we get to the end. Actually, I'm pretty sure I will when Hongjoong finds me," he rubs the back of his neck. "But I'm not afraid of death. It's been long enough. I'll try my best to lend you my knowledge before I go. I'll leave the rest to you."

There's something else.

"Sejun," you start, slowly standing. "What were you to Rose?"

He grins, "An asshole ex, y/n."

“Did you…?” You don’t say the words.

“I had a temper back then. I hurt her accidentally plenty of times, yes. But after the first time, is it really an accident?” He keeps his gaze to the floor. “I hurt her even if I thought I didn’t mean it. I did it. Just another part of her suffering back then. I’d do anything to change back time, somehow remove myself from Hongjoong, from her life. I deserve to suffer twice as long as she has. I can help you now.”

"We have to get her."

"No," Hongjoong adjusts his coat, frowning as he pulls off a dust ball. "She made her choice. She wants us gone, she wants to leave, then let her. No more rescue missions, no more devoting our hours to her. Let her go."

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, "You have to understand that I do not believe a word falling from your lips."

Hongjoong snickers, shrugging. "Then that is so. Either way, it is unwise for any of you to go running after her. It is for her own good. She refused to trust us and our words, so she will suffer the consequences. She will see what it means to have us removed from her life."

Yeosang steps closer, "He may hurt her–"

"A few bruises never hurt anyone," he points out. "You know that well."

His hands slowly form into fists as he glares at him. Hongjoong notes this, tilting his head as he stares at his friend. "What will you do, hm? Go against my words? You know you don't have to follow them. You can run after her if you'd like. She would probably want to see you the most. As she always has."

"You will not stop us?" Yunho's brows furrow, arms crossed against his chest. "That is unlike you."

"Because I know you will see how unsuccessful the venture will be. He will not go down without a fight. He will kill every single one of you because he is nearly as strong as I. Have you forgotten? He has the privilege, he is older than you all. Human blood still runs through his veins. The only one who stands a chance is myself, and I want to teach her a lesson. So go if you like, lose your lives so that I am the only one remaining. I am sure she would enjoy it."

The others say nothing. Jongho is the first to break the silence.

"Then what will we do?"

His wild, cheshire grin stuns them. "We go to our show. We perform, and we feed. I will tell you the next step then."

“Pull yourself together.”

San watches as Yeosang paces back and forth, fists clenching and unclenching. He has rarely ever seen him filled with this much fury, thoughts seemingly scattered as he ignores every word San attempts to tell him. San tried to stop his pacing but was met with such angst that he moved out of the way, letting him continue. Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair, breaths heavy as he controls his breathing.

“It’s been days. Subin will kill her,” he starts, looking at San. “There is no doubt in it. y/n will die.”

“We aren’t certain of it—”

“He’s spoken about it for centuries, San. Centuries. A day with her isn’t going to change his mind and we both know it. She’s going to die,” Yeosang holds himself up against the wall, unable to handle the onslaught of emotions cascading from him. He’s forced himself to not feel for all this time, to push back the thoughts that caged him inside of this body, made him ill for an unknown amount of time. But how can he stand here and listen to Hongjoong? He finally has you, and he’s already lost you once more. “If she dies–”

“You will not perish along with her,” Wooyoung enters the room, shooting San a look. “Control yourself Yeosang, I thought you were over this.”

He shakes his head, gaze lifting from the floor to look at his friend. “Do not stand there and pretend all of this isn’t your fault. You poisoned her and you made me lie. You influenced my hand without my permission. When you explicitly told me you’d never use your hold against me again, you did. And now we’ve lost her.”

“I poisoned her for everyone’s sake. She would have been ours. Right, Sannie?” Wooyoung looks at his closest friend, “Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?”

San swallows softly, looking between his two friends. It’s been like this ever since Wooyoung turned Yeosang. A push and pull between the three of them, a longing in Wooyoung’s eyes as he desperately wanted Yeosang to accept him as he is, followed by refutation every single time. Growing closer with San because of it, the relationship between the trio strained. He rubs his face, thinking.

“I want her, yes,” he says simply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with either of them. He’s learned that it is best to toe the line, never choosing a side. “But it is likely we might not ever see her again if we continue down this path.” Not until now, of course.

Wooyoung’s bright smile wavers, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“If you don’t understand his words then you never will, Woo,” Yeosang says softly. “All he has ever done is try to nurture you, to accept you as you are now, mourn who you once were. We all have at some point. But it is hard when your mind is so diluted with need for her that you cannot think properly. How many times must we go through this to try and make you see that what you’re doing is not okay?”

“I’ve been this way long enough for you to get used to it,” he sucks his teeth. “And don’t place all the blame on me. It wasn’t my idea to flood her apartment. I wasn’t the one who killed her friend. We all have a role in this. I’m sorry if you loved the pathetic man I was before, he’s been gone for hundreds of years now.”

“You call him pathetic,” Yeosang whispers. “But I called him my best friend.”

Wooyoung steps closer to him, crouching down to meet his gaze. “Called, you say? Am I no longer that? Do you no longer consider me your best friend?”

He says nothing then, the tension thickening in the room. Wooyoung takes several steps toward him, San standing in the way. He merely laughs at his friend, pushing him aside. He stands just before Yeosang, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Do you consider me your best friend, Kang Yeosang?”

Yeosang swallows. Though he does not say it, Wooyoung can see the twitch of his lip, the slight shake of his head. It is enough to push him to the edge. His eyes darkened, red slowly fading.

“You will listen to my words now and follow them,” his fingers dig into Yeosang’s shoulder as he stares down at him. “Every word that I tell y/n you will agree is true. You will convince her that I am not as bad as she may think, and you will do it diligently. If she does not believe you after days of trying…” Wooyoung trails off, eyes glazed over. “If she does not believe you, you will leave this home. And you will not remember me being the one to tell you this."

“Wooyoung—” Yeosang’s eyes widen, trying to remove himself from his grip.

“Enough.”

They all turn to the new arrival, Yunho leaning against the door frame. He frowns at them all, lingering on Yeosang’s crouched body, Wooyoung’s grip. Said man lets him go, though there is a sly smile on his lips. “Hongjoong found out where she is.”

“Do we go against his word?”

“Is there any other way? We’ve followed along with him for centuries with little protest. Of course, there will come a time when we do not. And that time is now,” Yunho stretches his hands through the sweater, adjusting it in the mirror. “We do this on our own.”

“Hongjoong said we’d be killed.”

“And you believe him?”

Wooyoung purses his lips, eyes shifting to Seonghwa in the corner of the room. “There was never a reason for me not to."

“A lot of things you don’t know about, Wooyoung,” Yunho tosses Seonghwa his bag, scoffing at how the man dodges it, letting it fall to the floor. “He isn’t coming with us so there’s no need to worry about him.”

“He’ll tell captain.”

“Probably,” Yunho shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. “Hongjoong could stop us if he wants to. Doubt it though.”

“Why?”

Yunho sighs, turning back to him. “When were you ever one to ask so many questions? You usually follow.”

“It’s…” Wooyoung’s eyes shift to Yeosang, noticing how the man is curled on the floor, eyes shut. There’s little he can do to persuade him to come unless he forces him to, but he’s dealt with those consequences already. Doing it again will only feed his benefit, and no one else’s. Wooyoung sighs, buttoning up the leather jacket he does not need, shifting his eyes to San in the far corner. He leans against the wall, watching the two of them. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Not long,” Yunho shrugs. “They brought her to our club.”

This catches the attention of the others in the room, Seonghwa’s eyes widening at the news. Yeosang still does not move from his spot, even as San nudges his body. A knock on the door interrupts them, Hongjoong standing there silently.

“Ready?”

They tense, only causing him to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t go alone. There will be others to handle there other than Subin,” he glances at Wooyoung. “I’m going to kill him for good this time. You know that right?” He does not utter the name, but he sees how his body shifts at the thought. “Having him linger around is not wise, Woo. Especially around y/n.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes briefly. “I know that.”

“Then I need your word you will not interfere when I do so.”

He sucks in a breath, nodding. “You have it."

Hongjoong chuckles dryly. “Great. You’re staying here with Yeosang.”

“Captain—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping his incoming rant. “No need to protest because I will continue to stand here and deny your requests until I am blue in the face. No. You’re not coming, and you’re staying with the man you’ve manipulated for months on end. These are only the consequences of your own actions, Wooyoung," he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. "Did you believe I would let you off the hook just because she favors you? I have not forgotten what you were doing. If she were not there, you would no longer be on this Earth.” He tilts his head, thinking. “I could persuade her that you are a danger and truly remove you from our sights, but that would be unfair to the others. In their minds, some part of the old Wooyoung exists beneath the one we see today. But I’ve spoken too much. Yunho, San, let’s go.”

Hongjoong does not bother to acknowledge Seonghwa sitting on the opposing side of the room, exiting without another word. San nods at the others, following behind Yunho and his captain. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the three alone.

Freedom only seems to mock you as you gaze upon it only a few steps away, lit by the fire encased inside lanterns adorning the hallways. It is of no fault of your own that you missed how eerie it truly is inside of their club; consumed by loud music and screaming concert-goers. Still you can’t help but scoff at the blatantly obvious red flags only steps away from the door. Perhaps everyone else was too intoxicated to notice the strange markings on the walls, the endless hallways. All of it brings strange feelings within you, auras of discomfort. Spending time here without the crowds of people makes it seem all the more odd. If it weren’t for Sejun pulling you into the back room, you would have left without a second thought given.

“Their allurement is what makes this place lively. Without them it only feels like a creepy box,” he says, matching your thoughts entirely. “They never needed to clean up this place; blood stains the floors and walls. Disgusting if we truly think about it, though Seonghwa himself tries his best to make it look at least presentable. Now he doesn’t have much time to do so since he spends his days with you.”

If there was a semblance of jealousy in his words you cannot find it. He drops your wrist, shutting the stage door behind him as he paces back and forth. He seems unsettled, and you don’t speak up to make him even more so. His eyes flick to you, narrowing when they meet. “Subin told me he’d be here.”

“And I was not lying about it, friend,” his voice appears just behind you, goosebumps covering your skin. You turn around, meeting the deep, tired eyes of Rose’s brother. He nods at you, glancing around to look at Sejun. “Did they follow you?”

“They’re too preoccupied in their own snags to pay attention to their surroundings. Though I’m fairly certain Jongho has figured it out by now, he seems attune to her scent the most.”

“Our time is limited, then,” Subin sighs, focusing back on you. He takes a step forward only for you to mirror him. He tilts his head back in exasperation. “They will come for you soon y/n, it’s best to end this now.”

“End what exactly? I’ve spoken to you twice in the past few months, and we never discussed anything ‘ending’. Be more specific.”

A smile rests on his face, “Never-ending in your quick wit even after hundreds of years passed.” He rests against the familiar seat, one you sat in when you first met them all; the beginning of your descent into their hands. If you knew then, you would have never accepted your friend’s invitation to the performance. Things would be different. He seems to know it as well, fingers brushing against the leather cushions.

"When you were my sister, you spoke to me about ending your life if you were ever in danger of being turned into one of them. Us, rather. Back then I was too involved with the captain to take your words to heart, but by the time I realized you were in peril I was too late. You’ve already died. I mourned for you, for the loss of ever knowing you, and I thought that was done. I accepted your fate. But seeing you now, after Hanse told me of your presence in the club, it felt like almost a favor. I have always been quite a religious man, so it must have been an act of God. He’s given me another opportunity to save you. Who would I be if I didn’t take it?”

Oh, they are all misguided, aren’t they? Sejun does not seem to believe his words either, rolling his eyes as Subin speaks.

“You believe that I would want you to kill me now?” You furrow your brows. “You do understand that we are not the same people?”

“Outer appearance does not matter, though you look eerily alike,” he notes, “It was a promise I plan to keep, y/n. There’s no reason for me to break it now.”

“Well I do have one.” You have several, in fact. “I am not her, so the promise does not hold true. And I do believe you have bigger problems. You have no more places to feed, Subin. That’s something you should be worried about.” And forget about you completely, hopefully. "Continuing to follow me around when I'm with them is not a good idea."

"You wish to be with men that would kill anyone who speaks to you?" His brows furrow. "You're worried for me because you know they'll kill me if given the chance. That's who you desire to be with? Are you sure of your choice?"

"Hongjoong said he wouldn't–" you stop in the middle of your diatribe, remembering the switch of tone, the evil lurking in his gaze when he proclaimed that he'd kill Subin. "I'm leaving them so you don't need to worry anymore. Just leave me alone, come up with a compromise that doesn't lead to your death. Rose and I both will be happy if you stay alive." As alive as a vampire can be. But you digress.

"Rose hated me," Subin frowns. "When I became like this she hated it. She would have killed me if she saw me alive today, not let me live. That is the difference between the two of you. Rose hated vampires, hated the bloodshed, hated being one. You do not hate it. They will take advantage of that. They already have. You were being poisoned by Wooyoung and you saved him. Do you realize how tightly they've dug themselves into your life? You saved the monster that was slowly killing you. You didn't run out of fear, leave immediately. You saved him. How can you not see?"

Sejun scoffs from his corner, shaking his head. "Fucking hell."

There’s no use in questioning how he knows, all of these vampires seem to know things you’ve never uttered. "I'm already gone, I can go somewhere. Maybe abroad, I don't know," you stumble over your words, knowing it's of no use. They will find you anywhere. Your time apart will be brief, until you see them stumbling into somewhere you've escaped to. So you say the only thing you can think of.

"I don't want to die, Subin. I've barely lived."

Subin’s brows furrow, eyes filled with sorrow. "Is that what you desire? Do you truly want to live the rest of your life in fear of them? Unable to run away?"

No. That's not what you want. "I want to live as I did before and I know it's not possible anymore. But do I have no other choice than death? There's nothing else I can do?"

"There are few things in this world that make Hongjoong weak. Though most he would never admit to."

"Care to share?"

"That makeshift family of is," he waves his hand, nose wrinkled. "He will never say the words himself, but they are the remainder of humanity he has left. I am sure he has told both you and Rose, but he wasn't this… caring when it came to humans. Not until he met those seven. Especially Wooyoung. He is quite fond of Sejun’s brother even if he would kill him in just a brief moment," he furrows his brows in thought. "I am sure it will haunt him until the end of his days."

You can't imagine hurting any of them. Their past is something that often buries itself in the back of your mind, but never irks you. Killing them to get back at Hongjoong will never be a choice of yours. Even Wooyoung, the man who slowly poisoned you. It is all stupid and ridiculous when you think deeply about it. But so is love, unfortunately.

"And you, y/n," he says. "You are his weakness. He will kill every single person on this planet so that you're content. I would advise to never divulge what your past partners have done, or old friends. They would end up in the back of the papers soon enough. Now that I think of it though, you can use that to your advantage. He is infatuated with you. Make him believe you love him the same, then kill him."

"Kill him?" Rose back then would have done it without a second thought. But you? You step on a small beetle by accident and it ruins your week. Making Hongjoong fall for your lies then killing him… it's unimaginable. "That's the only choice I have?"

"y/n, listen to my words carefully." He bends his knees, balancing on the edges of his feet as he meets your eyes. "Hongjoong will not stop until he gets what he wants. He has waited hundreds of years to have you. He is smart – he will be able to read the lies you feed him."

Subin’s eyes flick behind you, before meeting your gaze again. "Every creature can be killed. Even abominations like us. That you know from Hanse's death. If you would like, I can tell you our weaknesses. I couldn't save you back then, I was too late. But if you would let me, I can save you now. I can show you how to, to finish the plan that Rose couldn't complete herself."

Kill them?

The thought pains you. It's the last thing you want. But seeing how tortured they are, how easily they could switch their personalities, how they more than likely forced Rose to become a vampire, how Wooyoung attempted the same for you.

You have no choice.

You glance back at Sejun, his snickers and jabs silent now, wanting for your response. You turn back to Subin, Rose's brother. His expression doesn't give away anything, patiently waiting for you to decide. You close your eyes, ignore how much your chest hurts at even considering it. Pushing through your heart's desire, you nod slowly.

"Okay."

Hongjoong is the first to enter, hands resting against his back. His shoes echo across the hardwood. Though he cannot quite decipher who is in the room with you, he can smell you. And that scent overpowers them all. Yunho and San follow just behind him, blades in hand, coated with poison. Subin has kept to himself for decades now, barely interfering with the others. Your presence has brought them happiness, but has led to this. Not that any of them mind, really. If it meant that they would have you, they’d do anything for it.

“They’re here,” Sejun stands, moving closer to you. “We don’t have time. Remember what we’ve told you?” He asks, fingers wrapping around your bicep. “We are going to die, and you will do everything possible to stop them. Do you understand?”

“They wouldn’t–”

“They would, my dear sister,” Subin says simply, eyes flicking to the door. “I’m quite sad that we were not given the chance to catch up once again, but I do hope if there is some afterlife, I can meet Rose.” His jaw tightens, hands slipping behind his back. “Promise you will rid of them soon.”

You hesitantly nod, and he gives you a small grin back. “Of course, I will have to show them a bit of blood to get them going. It will be quick, y/n. They'll heal you, alright?"

"What–"

Your sentence is cut off by the sharp blade pushed into your stomach. Sejun’s eyes widen as Subin slowly slides it out of you, the pain too overwhelming for you to even utter a sound, falling to your knees. Your hands immediately go to the cut, gasps falling from your lips as you turn down to look at it. He pushed it in deep, the blood spilling down your shirt quickly, staining the hardwood floors. He throws his arm back too quick for you to prepare, his fist landing against your cheek.

Sejun’s eyes burn into Subin’s. “You idiot–”

The door is thrown open, Sejun backing away from the two of you as they enter. You can't quite concentrate on what's happening, the sounds of murder happening around you. Shouting and screaming, bones breaking, the smell of blood filling the air. Sejun is thrown down next to you. Several cuts covering his skin, brown blood spilling from his wounds. He coughs, grabbing one of your hands. Forcing you to focus on his words.

"Kill them," his grip on your hand is tight. You can barely see his eyes through the blood covering his face, his hold growing weaker as the seconds pass. "Kill them and you'll finally be free."

Blood splatters in your eyes, covering your face just as he finishes his words. Hongjoong from just behind you drives the stick deeper into his chest, grunting the more force he puts into it.

Your vision blurs as you stare at the blackened blood dripping down your hand, disappearing beneath your sleeve. This was never something that you wanted, despite it being in their plan. Sejun was not supposed to die. You do not doubt that he's done things to Rose in the past, things lost to you. But he's helped since you've spoken to him. It's silly to be upset about his death, but here you are. Staring down at his bloodied body, fingers slowly curling into your palm, hands trembling. Your eyes lift to the murderer, eyes wide as he stares at the body beneath him. He touches his face, smearing his skin with whatever poison he used. The exact one Subin provided for you just moments ago.

"Joong…"

He turns around, expression softening when he sees how distraught you look. His warm fingers brush against your cheek. You wince at the touch as he apologizes for pressing too hard against your skin. His lips press against your forehead, a sorry escaping them. You welcome his touch, sighing as he pulls you against him. His smell encompasses you, your sore wrists aching as you grip his leather coat. He lifts you with ease, your lids too swollen for you to open them. Is it tears? You're not too sure.

The room is quiet. No longer do you hear the crunching of limbs, the muffled screams as they ripped Sejun apart. No. All you can hear is the way your heartbeat throbs in your ear, the breaths of Hongjoong as he guides you out of the room. How foolish of you to believe that you did not need him? That you were so stubborn to see that without him, you would be safe? In the end you're still entrapped in his embrace, softened at the delicate care he does to bring you safely back to his clan, his coven. Your thoughts no longer linger on Sejun, or her brother, or any of the others, in fact.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, the sensitive cuts on your lips tingling as heavy breaths escape. "I should have trusted you." Why are you saying this? Why do the words not feel like your own?

"None of this is your fault," he whispers. "Trusting someone is a difficult task to undertake. Please do not speak anymore until you're able, alright?"

You cough, blood spilling from your lips. His eyes shift to your stomach. Without another word he drags his blade across his arm, lifting your shirt and pressing it against your cut. You gasp, gripping his forearm as he pushes it harshly. He whispers something you don’t bother to understand, holding you close.

The part of you that screamed for you to push him away is silent now. You can only tuck yourself further against him, feel the vibrations of his chest as he hums a song to you. You cannot quite place it, but it feels familiar. He does not begin conversation with you, asking how this happened. Instead he carries you out into the night, holding you close as he enters a car. You hear the soft voice of San speaking to him, their voices low enough that you do not bother straining to listen.

The scene you blocked out suddenly begins to replay in your head. Yunho appeared. You see the glimpse of Seungwoo behind your eyes over and over– when did he arrive? The terrible, garbled scream that left her brother– Subin’s, chest. The sickening sounds of him dying. Did Rose hear this often? How was she able to handle it; the carnage, the smell, the sounds? They only seem to roll on a tape over and over again in your mind.

"What can I do?"

You know he's speaking to you, lips dry as you run your tongue over the cracks, the metal taste coating your tongue. "Nothing." Time passing is only making your head spin. Where's Hongjoong? When did the car start moving? Will you ever see your family again?

"...Okay," San says simply. Hongjoong must have left some time ago, the hum of the car is the only sound around you. "I can't lose you again." His voice is softer. You force an eye open. His fingers are curled around the steering wheel, body rigid. His eyes flick to the rearview often, fingers fidgeting. You're not too sure what your relationship with him is – he's avoided you for weeks now. Now though, you can see how he thinks he cares for you, worry coating his face. His shirt is stained just like the others. Did he kill? Was it Seungwoo? Sejun? Subin? It's all a blur to you now.

How could you pretend to care for any of them when you want to run away? "You will," you respond, lids heavy. "You have already."

"Is there nothing I can do–"

"Yes, there's nothing." Why lie? Why continue the lies that they've started? There is not a moment where you could look at any of them and feel some sort of happiness. "You've lied."

"Rose."

"And you've never called me by my name despite me desperately asking for it, San. You've treated me like the woman you've once loved since we met, and you expect me to love you back? You don't see me." Your throat hurts as you speak to him, but you've wanted to let it out. Show him how it feels to be treated like her. "Let's no longer pretend that you do."

He does not respond. You tuck your legs further into your body. You told him you wouldn't lie, but why does it feel like you are? Why the fuck do you care so much about these men that could give two shits about you? To the point that they're slowly carving you into Rose, a woman that despised their very being? And why are you so desperate for them to see you as yourself, as a human woman completely disconnected from your prior life? Have you so deeply involved yourself that you need their love, their affection? Is that why you've fallen for many of them so easily?

How the hell did that wound on your stomach heal so fast?

"I'm sorry, y/n."

What you find behind San's door shouldn't be as surprising as it is. His bed is in pieces, wooden beams scattered across the floors, sheets ripped into throwaway fabrics, pillow feathers floating around the room. Most furniture is destroyed. You take slow steps into the room, hand resting on the edge of the only intact piece: his desk. Fear slowly swallows you as you read the notes you see. Your name is written over and over. Neat in the beginning, slowly losing legibility as it goes on. By the end of the page the characters are mixed together, blood staining the page, paper punctured from how hard he pressed. One line is written clearly at the top of the page.

I will say your name, y/n.

It's been a couple of days since you've gotten back from your kidnapping, from that massacre in the backrooms of Clair de Lune. The smell of death still hasn't left your nose. It's the first time you've left your room, the men leaving your food outside of it, avoiding you in the hallways if you decided to leave. You would thank them under different circumstances, but now you know it's only because they don't want you to ever leave them.

Which bears the question on exactly why you haven't left yet. The blatant warnings are there. Wooyoung was legitimately poisoning you slowly. Many of the others must have known about it. So why are you still here? Why can't you make yourself leave?

Why does it feel like you can't?

"Are you alright?"

You glance at the door, Mingi and Seonghwa standing there. Mingi's arms rest against his chest, a slight limp as he enters. He still has not fully healed from the basement incident, though he looks healthier in complexion. Especially in comparison to you.

"He left," Mingi glances at Seonghwa, eyes flicking back to yours. "For a walk."

"Did the captain tell him to?" You ask, and Mingi shakes his head.

"He left on his own. As you can see," Mingi gestures to the surrounding area. "He's been a bit distraught since you've come back home. He thought leaving would help his mind settle. Mellow out for a while. Yeosang joined him."

"Yeosang?" Is that why you haven't seen him? You presumed that he was avoiding you, but it seems to be the opposite. Yeosang is the only one you could tolerate being around without getting upset, and now he's gone.

"He deals with San during these moments the best. Everyone agreed that he should join him to keep him in check. They shouldn't be gone for too long, so no need to worry."

Worrying is all that you do; especially for them.

But you only acknowledge his words with a quick nod, hands lingering on the edge of the desk. You have not seen Hongjoong either, though it is probably due to your insistence on not allowing him to enter your room. The others begged and pleaded for you to give him a chance – but how could you? His half promises and lack of care for your well-being has left you numb. Before meeting them, you were sure with your emotions, your feelings. Now you only feel like a shell of yourself. You rub your face, ignoring the two men watching as you go through your emotions.

“What will we do now, then?” your eyes shift to the side, noticing that Mingi left already. Strange how quiet a man of his size can be.

Seonghwa slowly moves into the room, arms resting against his chest. “Shall we have a meeting when they come back? I know that you still want to leave, so we can speak about it—”

“Seonghwa,” You lean against the table, wincing as your hip brushes against the wood. His eyebrows furrow as he glances at your hip, only for you to wave him off. “We’ve done enough talking to last a thousand lifetimes.” With how effortlessly Sejun manipulated you into thinking he was truly Seonghwa, there’s little doubt that one of the guys wouldn’t be able to persuade you to stay. Especially with the way he’s looking at you now. No wonder Rose fell for them with ease. It hurts you to even say the words.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is softer, eyes glued to the wooden floors. “I wasn’t here when he took you away. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head. “I should have noticed it wasn’t you from the start. The words you were saying were a bit…” Cheesy? Out of character? Overwhelming for the moment? Now that you think back to Sejun practically begging on his knees, his eyes were not his. They were a deeper brown. Seonghwa rarely, if ever, showed his brown eyes to you. Only in public, never in private. The truth was right in front of you, but you were too overcome with the events that passed to even recognize it.

“Did he speak poetry?” Seonghwa’s lip lifts, a smirk forming. “Sejun used to make fun of me often for my verbiage. I think he referred to it as having a stick up my ass.” You place your hand over your mouth, a laugh escaping. Seonghwa’s grin widens, light chuckles leaving his lips. “And now you laugh because you find it to be true.”

“It’s not… well, you do speak a bit proper sometimes. I just assumed it was because of your past. From a prestigious family?”

His eyes widen briefly, lips finally curving into a full smile. “Rose assumed the same of me when we first met. Maybe I do need to loosen my lips a bit more,” he sighs. “But nevertheless, I am apologetic."

He easily slides past the question about his family, but you let him have it. It’s not like you exactly overshare when it comes to yours. A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, Hongjoong lingering in the doorway. Seonghwa moves to the side, sending you a quick look before departing. Hongjoong remains unchanged from the night they found you. Your blood still stains his clothing, hair tousled, eyes red. He looks like he’s worse off in comparison to you. Just as Hongjoong begins to speak, you interrupt.

“Thank you.”

Your words stun him momentarily, raised hand falling to his side. You could almost smile at his shocked expression if you weren’t so exhausted. You hold your hand against the bandage covering your stomach. It’s barely scabbed over, blood still coating the gauze.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say again. “It’s more than what I’ve asked for but thank you. I’m not sure if I would have survived another day.” It’s very likely that you would have, especially with Sejun there. But stroking his ego might somewhat increase your chances to come out of this place alive. Vampirism isn’t something you exactly dreamed of undergoing.

“You’re not furious with me?” He asks his question slowly, eyes glued to your face. “Not in the slightest?”

“Why would I be angry at you for what Sejun and Subin did?” At least this part is somewhat true.

He swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips as he turns on his heels to the door, he shuts it behind him. "Did Sejun ever explain the reasoning as to why we separated?"

You shake your head, slowly sinking down into the stool in front of San's dresser. His face changes as he simmers in his thoughts.

"Sejun was supposed to watch her," Hongjoong's words almost feel desperate as he speaks to you, pacing around the ottoman. He stops in front of the bed, running his fingers through his hair, thinking. He seems to steady himself as he wraps his hand around one of the bed's pillars. "Rose. It was supposed to be brief but our ship needed maintenance so we stayed away a few months longer. That's when he wooed her, made her fall in love. It was my fault. When he arrived back on ship he told me all of his tales were false. I thought it was to get close to her brother. But when Rose appeared in front of me and told me of his sins, I could not take it," his grip on the pillars hardened, eyes narrowing. The concerned man he just showed you disappears in that instant. It only frightens you how easily he can turn his emotions. You sink further into the stool.

"I tore him from limb to limb, I let the others watch. I thought that was the end of it, no one could survive something like that, not even a vampire. His body was burned and thrown into the sea. So seeing him standing in that shop, none of it made any sense. It still doesn't. It is a pity that I was filled with so much rage I did not get the chance to ask."

He lets a sigh escape him, "And I allowed him into our home, allowed him to take you."

Your brows furrow. "No one knew he took me–"

He holds up his hand, "I knew. Do you think I do not know everything that goes on? Though I was mistaken and presumed he was himself, not disguised as Seonghwa to lure you. If any of us were there we would have seen through his shadow self. But it's harder for humans to."

The realization sinks into you slowly. You knew you were not safe with any of them, especially with him. But hearing him actually say it, express it–

“I allowed him to take you because you told us you did not need us. That you were okay on your own. And I wanted to honor your wishes so I let it happen. And you saved yourself, did you not? You allowed us to kill him with ease, Ro– y/n!" He smiles at you, true joy lining his features. "You saved yourself without our help, we just cleaned the mess."

Your eyes flick between his. "You let him take me. He brought me to Subin who almost killed me, and you let him take me.”

"You said you did not need saving, my sea. I let you make your own choices."

"Being kidnapped is not a choice, Hongjoong! If it were any of you I would have tried to help, not watch you be taken. Do you hear yourself? Do you?" You straighten your back, anger slowly rising. "I know you're mad, but this is beyond what I expected."

He tsks, wiggling his index finger as he silences you. "No no, this is exactly what you should expect. You do not want us involved with your affairs. You want to leave. I'm not going to go against your word when you insist on it being followed."

“Oh my God,” you rub your face, “What am I doing here? Why did I let you take me back here? This isn’t like me, I’d never do anything like this,” You stop speaking, turning your eyes to him. He keeps his small smile on his face, watching your breakdown. Elated at the way he’s affecting you. Hongjoong does not care. He never has no matter how much he proclaims it. There’s no remorse, not a hint of regret. “You want me to depend on you when you let me go?”

“You wanted it.”

“Hongjoong.”

He moves closer to you, hands covering yours. You try to pull from his grip but it only tightens.

“You fucking wanted it, Cassia,” His eyes widen, a laugh escaping his lips. It seems like he’s detached from himself, words spilling from his lips. “You wanted me to go away so I let you. I let you fucking leave me, leave me alone. What am I to do? I was so desperate for you. Everyone in the village wanted you but you looked at me. You told me you needed space to grow, to breathe. You looked me in my eyes and said that you wanted to be with me forever but you needed time. So I let you go, I let you follow that asshole monk. How was I to know what was going to happen? How could I guess what he would do?”

He moves closer to you, not noticing how frozen you are. His hand slowly reaches up, cupping your cheek. “I killed him for you, I let his blood run the streets. I burned down the monastery for you. I gutted those terrible parents of yours, those friends that never loved you. The village that always made fun of you, called you a whore because they were envious of your beauty. And you cursed me, you damned me. Why would you do that? I did it all for you, for your adoration, for your love, and you pushed me away? You let me become as I am now. I love you, I’ve always loved you. I’m here now, can’t you see? I’m showing you that I will do anything for you, kill anyone for you. Do you not understand this?”

He moved away, pressing his hands on his temples, eyes widening, red streaks falling down his cheeks. He claws at his face, hysterical laughs escaping him. “I will kill him. I will kill them all for you. I let you love them before me and this is what I am repaid for? Your hatred as payment for loving you with everything that I have? We can be happy if you let us. If you see what I will do for you.”

His eyes flick to you, horror filling them when he sees how frightened you look, how you’ve pulled your legs close, arms wrapped around them. Flinching when he meets your gaze. He swallows, licking his lips as he stands. “I will, I’ll be back. One of the others can watch you while I’m gone, okay? Okay, C– my sea?”

He does not wait for your response, turning on his heel, the door swinging open. With his quick pace he does not seem to notice the others just outside the door, deep in his own thoughts as he disappears down the hallway. You blink quickly, still tense as a few of the others enter. A hand touches your shoulder and you flinch. You look up, meeting the gaze of worried San, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Steady, hold it steady.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you winch, staring at him slowly stitching up the wound. Somewhere in between your conversation with Hongjoong, the stitches broke open. Though you insisted on a hospital rather than an unsterile, small room, they heard none of it. Especially Yeosang, his soft eyes filled with fear when he saw you. He mustered up the best smile he could before leaving you alone. It’s unlike him to check up on your condition; he asked Wooyoung and Jongho plenty of times just outside the door when they thought you were asleep. Your mind moves to Hongjoong, immediately pushing the thought away just as it comes. Breaking that moment down in your mind will only lead to more madness. The one thing you cannot afford to fall into right now.

“Pretty?” San nudges you slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Your look at him, noting the bruised lip, the dried slit in his brow. Yours furrow looking at him, swallowing slowly. They saved you again and all you have to show for it is anger, resistance. How much longer could you last pushing them away when all they’ve done is help you?

“You worry me,” he speaks again, slowly wrapping your torso with gauze. “That distant look you get. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Confessing that you don’t deserve their kindness is far from what you want. So you let your head rest against his shoulder, exhaling. “Sometimes I wish you were human.” You say simply, promptly regretting the words just as they leave your mouth.

You can feel him tense under your touch, hesitating in his wrapping briefly. “I like who I am now.”

“I know.”

“And if given the chance again, I wouldn’t change it. This is who, what, I want to be."

“I know, you don’t have to explain it to me. I just let lingering thoughts escape, that’s all.”

He sighs, “No no, I didn’t mean to sound angry, you don't need to apologize."

He rips off a piece of medical tape and lining it up with your bandages. “It’s all I’ve known, pretty. I cannot imagine myself being as I was before. I was scrawnier, smaller. More fearful of the world. My life before Hongjoong was not the greatest. My family was killed because I couldn’t protect them, because I was not strong enough to. But now that I can, I can be of assistance to all of you. It’s what I’ve always sought, and I can’t go back to being a human. I can’t be feeble again.” His eyes flick to yours, softening when they meet your eyes. “I love you too much to see you hurt, pretty. If there were something stronger for me to become, I would choose it without a second thought. I hope you won't try to convince me otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t want to, San. Please understand that,” you squeeze his arm. “You’re in control of your life, not me. I can’t force you to abide by my whims. If you want to be like this, I’m not stopping you.”

“Not stopping me – does that mean you won’t accept it anyway?” His words are tight. “You will still leave?”

“If you were a human I’d leave anyway,” you whisper, not daring to meet his eyes. “I never belonged here. If any of us were to become something, I need space. I need a place to go where I can be alone. My room isn’t enough for me.” And run away, you think. You promised Subin you’d kill them, but how could you? Especially with the way he alone is looking at you. Your empathy is endless to the point that you hate it, but it’s not unreasonable to know you can’t hurt people.

A part of you wonders what Rose would do right now. How she’d react to your choices. Is she yelling in her grave right now, telling you that everything you’re doing is bringing you closer to death? Or is she assured that you’re safe in their arms, complimenting you on your choices thus far? There’s so many possibilities, and you’re still not sure what happened back then. All you know is someone in this house turned her into a vampire. And that’s very likely the reason why she wanted to kill them all. You felt her pain, her fear in the brief visions. The cold touch of death when she turned.

You never want to experience it yourself.

“I wish I could convince you otherwise,” he whispers, securing your gauze. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I just hope that you’ll miss us enough to come back home.”

“San-”

“You don’t need to explain why, because I know,” he waves you off, shaking his head. “I mean, I called you Rose for so long without thinking twice about it. Knowing how you felt about it. I didn’t let myself distinguish between the two of you because of my selfishness. I didn’t want to let her go. Accepting that Rose is gone,” he stops in his words. “I don’t think any of us have properly mourned her death. Maybe Yunho or Mingi, but not really. Not truly. The last person to visit her grave was Jongho, and that was decades ago. I’m sorry that I let it go on for so long, and I’m sorry I took your feelings for granted. I think it’ll be hard, but I hope that one day you’ll forgive me, y/n.” He says your name with emphasis, eyes flicking between yours. “Just as I love you.”

"Do you love me?"

His voice cracks at the last word. It's the second time in a day that he's asked. You jokingly replied sure earlier, and he laughed it off. But now, his hands are gripping the bottom of your shirt. Looking up at you from your knees. Eyes flicking between yours, waiting for an answer.

You hear the sentence over and over again in your head. Do you love him? Do you love any of them? Or are you trying to become someone they once knew? Their rose, their sea. The one woman in their life that they lost. It irks you, not knowing if your feelings are true. Or their desperation makes you believe each word that they say. You want to say it, you do. You want him to be assured that you love him, to be secure in his feelings for you. But the word just doesn't want to fall from your lips. So instead of saying it, you hand brushes just beneath his chin. Stroking the soft skin beneath your fingertips.

You lean forward, lips lightly touching his. You hold restraint, but of course, he cannot. He presses his lips against yours, and you kiss him hard. Although his face is swollen with tears and lips are chapped from licking them often, he kisses you.

And you kiss him back.

"Love me," he says between breaths, pulling you down from the edge of the bed. His hands rest beneath your body as you fall to the floor, his body towering over yours, pulling you closer. "Love me," he whispers, fingers digging into your sides as he holds you.

"And what will that do?" You ask, your lips parting from his. Your breaths are heavy, chests rising and falling as you meet his gaze. "What if I say no?"

"I have waited for you for hundreds of years, pretty. I can handle a few more without it. Just please don't tell me to go. I will bear the pain of you not saying it back, but please do not let me go. Remaining unwanted is one thing, but never seeing you again would be the greatest torture I would endure in my endless years."

His words hit you directly in the heart. You hold his face, staring at him. “I cannot promise anything, San. The future is too uncertain for me to say that.”

"Would you say it if I beg?" San moves away from you, slowly sliding down your body. His lips trail along the outline of you before resting at your feet. You lean up, brows furrowed. His hands slowly wrap around your waist, gripping your hips.

"San–"

"Please," His fingers dig into your skin. Not enough to break it, but keeps you where you are. Eyes on him. "I'd do anything for you, y/n. Anything you want."

You rise from the sheets, head throbbing. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream, why would you think otherwise? You swing your legs over the side of the bed, slowly standing. Your side aches as you push open the door. It must be early in the morning, the light seeping through the curtains as you make your way down the hallway. Slow is an overstatement, you’re shuffling. San secured the gauze tight enough for you to sleep comfortably, but moving? Not so much.

The kitchen is empty. The pile of peaches that often greet you is gone, replaced with a sealed box of dried fruits. You ignore it entirely, slowly sinking into the stool at the island. You haven’t had glimpses of the past at all, not even for a brief moment. In the beginning you hated being put into someone else’s body, but now? You wish you could be given something, anything. An assurance that staying here for the moment is a wise idea, or completely terrible.

You lift up your shirt, glancing at the wrapping. It's stained with blood already. Ah, maybe you moved around in your sleep more than you thought.

A cough distracts you.

You turn, tensing.

"Hi–"

"Leave," you interrupt him, glancing at the box in the center of the island. "Please."

"y/n–"

"Please Wooyoung, please just leave me alone," your voice cracks, fear coursing through you. "If you want me on my knees I'll do it. Please," you shut your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Because you know, despite it all, despite everything; One look from him will make you weak.

“What’s going on?” Your eyes flick to the entrance, Yunho glancing between the two of you. His eyes narrow as they meet Wooyoung’s, a frown slowly forming on his lips. “You were told to never be alone with her.”

“I needed to speak to her, that’s all. Nothing nefarious.” Wooyoung sighs, his exhale increasing as he watches Yunho come by your side. Confrontation when you’re this exhausted is not uncommon in this home, though you wish that they leave you alone just as the days prior. A part of you is thankful for Yunho’s presence despite it all; if Wooyoung was so easily able to end his friend’s life hundreds of years ago, ending yours right now would be a piece of cake. “Will you never acknowledge any of us? Or are you only enamored by Yeosang just as you were before? Or have you even attempted to?” Mire coats his word, an unmistakable glare in his eyes once you finally meet them.

You snort, slowly standing from the stool. It’s a bit of a struggle, Yunho leaning forward to help, but you push his hands away, gripping the countertop.

“You all assume that every thought of mine is Yeosang. Like all I’ve cared about since I arrived here is Yeosang when it hasn’t been like that at all. I was afraid of him just as I was of all of you. Your assumptions of my own feelings only seem to ease your own faults. I could have cared for you just as I have for Yeosang, Jongho, Mingi even. But your decision to poison me so that I am forced to be with you was something else entirely. So how can you stand there and tell me that I didn’t try when I did? I was slowly trusting you, Wooyoung. You, alone. And you erased it completely by making me ill. This is your doing, not mine. Never was. So how about accepting your fuck-ups instead of trying to pin it on someone else?”

His fists slowly loosen at your words, angry brows furrowing. How someone as smart as him not able to take your words at face value is beyond your own comprehension. But you’ve laid out your feelings as clearly as you could. It’s up to him to decide if he wants to acknowledge them or not.

“You’re saying that you would have accepted me as I am now?”

“I'm saying that I already have, Wooyoung. You are who you are. Who am I to tell you what you can and cannot be? You're a vampire, that's it. I wouldn’t try to make you a human because I want it. And I hoped that none of you would force me to be a vampire, but look at where we are now."

He takes a step closer to you, only for you to move closer to Yunho. Wooyoung’s eyes shift to him before sighing. “I’d rather we speak in private.”

“Walls are thin, Woo. We’d hear it whether or not I’m here,” Yunho shrugs. “And, frankly, I doubt she wants to be alone with you after everything.”

“You don’t speak for her.”

“He’s right,” you interrupt. “I’d rather someone else in the room.”

“Fine! Fine,” he begins to point at you, before slowly lowering his hand. “Everyone makes me out to be the bad guy. Like it is my fault you died when it’s not even close. I was in the back when it happened! I mean,” he rubs his face, glancing at his friend. “You're letting yourself hide behind a man you don't know, one whose had more involvement than me when it comes to Rose’s turning–”

“Enough, Wooyoung.” Yunho says.

“What? Am I not allowed to tell everyone’s misdeeds? Am I supposed to bear them all on my own? Why am I the lone sinner? Why can I not be the one who she can finally trust? Why do I have to hold your burdens as if they are mine?!” His fingers slowly curl into fists. “It's pushed onto me because you all have designated me as this devil, this monster that cannot be cured. y/n,” his eyes move to you. “I’ll admit my mistakes to you. Yeosang knew about me poisoning you, but it was no fault of his own. I'm not sure if the others have told you this, but the vampire that turns you is able to sire you. He cannot resist my commands if I make it so. He wanted to tell you, but he couldn’t. Because of me. Because of my faults.” He shakes his head, his fingers scratching against his scalp. “I’ll take credit for what I have done. But I will not stand here and pretend everything that has gone wrong around here is all because of my decisions. I'm not going to do it anymore, fuck the rest of you."

“y/n,” Yunho lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “If I may ask, could you please find yourself back to your quar–room, your room. Please. I need to speak with him for a moment.”

You swallow slowly, nodding. You don’t catch the quick flicker of fear in Wooyoung’s eyes at Yunho’s words, keeping your gaze low. There’s so much to process, so many words to accept. Your head begins to throb at the thought of trying to. You step around Yunho, slowly leaving the kitchen. But just before you turn the corner, “Thank you, Wooyoung. For finally admitting it.” Your eyes flick to his. “This doesn't mean I forgive you, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

You leave them be, slowly making your way back to your room without food. You aren’t necessarily hungry right now, it was in all honesty just a stroll from your room. You are still a bit annoyed that it was rudely interrupted, but you digress. Your eyes flick to the quick movement just at the end of the hallway, Yeosang disappearing into his room. You sigh.

It is perhaps not the best time to start something with him, but what do you have to lose? You plan on leaving soon, anyway. You slowly shuffle down the hallway, his door slightly ajar just as you make it around the corner. Taking a long breath, you slowly push it with your free hand, entering his room.

“It’s polite to knock,” he notes. He rests on the seat by his balcony window, leg swinging back and forth. He does not turn to you, though you expected as much. The last time he gazed in your eyes was when you first came back. You haven’t seen him since. His hair seems darker now, blond locks fading into a darker brown.

“You were gone with San for a while,” you start, breathing heavily as you shut the door behind it. It gives you some semblance of privacy, though you’re sure everyone in this house is in tune with your conversation.

“To keep him from losing himself,” he says simply, shrugging. “He would have done the same for me.”

You nod slowly, resting against his velvety couch. Though he doesn’t turn to see you struggle, you can see the scowl on his lips, already predicting his next words.

“You should be resting, not wandering around our home. It makes sense that San had to stitch you up once more. He will have to do it again if you don't sit still.”

“That’s a concern for another day.”

“y/n…”

"Why are you avoiding me?"

He runs his fingers through his hair.

"I could have saved you." He looks small. Arms wrapped around himself, gaze to the floor. Body shaking. "I could have saved you from Wooyoung, from Subin, from Sejun. I could have saved you from them all, but I didn't. I let Wooyoung's words have an influence over me, I," He slowly shakes his head. "You could have died."

His head finally lifts. He looks at the bandage wrapped around your calf, your waist, the bruises on your face. The endless wounds that seem to cover every exposed part of your body. He swallows slowly, lips trembling. "I could have saved you from this."

"None of this is your fault."

"You can't keep saying that. You can't keep pulling the blame away from me. I knew he was poisoning you and did nothing to stop it. You should hate me as much as him, if not more. Don't stand there and pretend you don't–"

“He told me.”

“What?” Yeosang stills, gaze still far away.

“Wooyoung. He told me about what he did to you. How he forced you to abide by his every word, his desires. I didn't even ask for his confession, but he gave it willingly without a second thought. I know he’s doing it only to earn my favor and good graces but him mustering up the will to even explain it to me probably earned him some trust. I doubt that I will be able to forgive him, but I do forgive you, Yeosang.”

He starts to shake his head, fingers digging into his scalp. His grip is harsh to the point that you see red staining the blonde, spilling from underneath his hold. “y/n, you should take every word that comes from him with great caution. And you shouldn’t forgive me for what I’ve done. It is utterly sinful.”

"He sounded sincere."

His lips form a scowl. "And that's your first mistake, y/n. Nothing that comes out of his mouth is close to sincere."

"Yeosang, please listen to me," you take a long breath. "I know that if you had the choice you wouldn’t have hidden the poisoning from me.”

"y/n–"

"Am I wrong for assuming this?"

He shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter because I did hide it. I know you want me to be this pillar of goodness, but I'm not that. I will never be that as long as I am the way I am, y/n. You should never trust any word from me.” His gaze finally meets yours across the darkened room. He looks dreadful, exhausted.

“I want you to love me. I am so lonely, my y/n,” his eyes are filled with fear, sorrow. “These hundreds of years have passed and I am still as lonely as I was when Rose died. I want you to love me as I have loved you. I want you to look at me and see me as I am. To need me as desperately as I need you. I need to feel loved, y/n. But because of my tie to my friend, I cannot,” he swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. “You will never be able to truly be mine because there is always him. There will always be him."

"I thought my dream of being somewhat normal faded long ago, but ever since your soul appeared in front of us again all of those emotions came back tenfold. I want to be human. I want to go to places with you, court you without having the fear of somehow doing something to me that's out of my control. To watch a sunset with you. I want to love you the way you deserve, I want you to be truly mine. But that will never happen. And for the sins that I’ve committed in the past and up to now, perhaps it is warranted. Perhaps I was never meant to have even the slightest bit of happiness when I was turned into this. All of it doesn’t matter in the end, though. Because the past cannot be changed just under sheer eagerness.”

Yeosang tenses up. He attempts to move but Wooyoung tightens his hold. “I cannot live without my best friend, Yeosang. And Rose says she will no longer love you if you were anything other than human. Shall we test that?”

“Wooyoung.” The words escape your own lips, though you know it’s Rose’s. You can feel the fear in her chest, the worry in her voice. Is this the moment Yeosang was turned?

Wooyoung holds his hand against the edge of the dresser, dragging it across harshly. His wrist begins to bleed as he presses it against Yeosang’s mouth, forcing the blood into it. He gags against his hold, desperately trying to get him to stop. Tears roll down his cheeks, eyes flicking to yours. You’ve never seen his eyes filled with such fear, horror. Regret.

"Stop!" You push against someone’s hold, but it's of no use. Wooyoung grips Yeosang's body, forcing his wrist against his mouth. Crazed eyes hold him close, fingers almost piercing Yeosang's shoulder with how elated he is.

“This is all for you, Rose. We will test that will of yours.”

Cries escape your chest as you fall to your knees, unable to do anything. You soon realize it is Mingi who holds you, continuing his whispering of comforting words to help you calm down, but you only feel your heart breaking. Wooyoung lifts your knife you left on your shelf, stabbing it into Yeosang’s chest. The stress in your body overwhelms you, body shaking as you lose consciousness.

“y/n!” He shakes you again and you’re finally pulled from it, glazed eyes clearing. Yeosang holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You aren't sure how much time passed between the vision and now, but he seems nervous as he holds you. “Are you alright? You weren’t here with me-”

“I saw it,” you swallow. You can remember how he once looked, the utter terror in his eyes as Wooyoung held him against his will. Killed him as he grinned at Rose. Yeosang was full of life then, eyes a softer brown, cheeks flushed. Losing his life in mere moments. The sounds only echo in your ears as he holds you, trying to pull you away from those thoughts. His thumb rubs against your cheek, wiping the tear that falls. “I saw you die, Yeosang.”

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t need to let those thoughts worry you. It was so long ago. It no longer affects me.”

“You never asked to be part of this and were forced into it because of him,” You do not say his name, deeming it unnecessary. “How can I pretend I didn’t just see it? No wonder.”

“No wonder what?” he asks softly.

No wonder Rose could not stand any of you any longer. No wonder she killed herself. Seeing the monster that Wooyoung became, it must have broken her. From the other instances he seemed so kind, loving. But in that moment, you could only feel disgust rising in Rose. Hurt.

"No wonder she didn't want to turn," you whisper.

Yeosang sighs. “We all know what happened before when Rose was turned; forcing you into the same position would only lead to another death. I want you to live a long life as do the rest of us, but their definition of life is certainly construed in comparison to mine.” His hand wraps around yours. You’ve noticed that they can easily blend into crowds without lingering looks because they just look pale from a distance, but watching his hand in yours changes your perspective. There is no color in his skin, a dull gray. But still, you lift his hand, pressing your lips against the back of it. His brows lift in silent shock, lips parting. His eyes flick over yours, a small smile slowly forming as he stares at you. “Why would I ask you to lose your warmth when I enjoy the flush of your cheeks?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words, letting your head rest against his chest. “In any other circumstance if a person told me they enjoyed how my blood circulated I’d be a bit creeped out.”

“Very true,” he chuckles along with you, pulling you closer into his chest. “I know my next words will be taken with mirth, but I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive him.”

Which him, he doesn’t say, but you can take a wild guess. You sigh, letting your eyes shut. “Would you be able to forgive so easily in my situation?”

He pauses for a moment, “It took me a few decades to accept him as he is. Forgiveness took a tad bit longer.”

“Define a tad bit.”

“y/n.”

“Yeo.”

He sighs. “… about seventy years.”

“Then I’ll pardon him in forty.”

“y/n,” he repeats again, his voice softer. You frown as you meet his gaze, ignoring the pout of his lips, the lax resting of his eyes- Damnit, could you at least pretend to be resilient against his charm?

“Yeosang, I am not going to forgive someone who almost murdered me. In fact, if I ever decided to become a vampire – which I won’t – “ you notice his eyes lighting up at your words. “I would ignore his very existence for the next five hundred years.”

He purses his lips, thinking. “That’s not too bad.”

“Kang Yeosang!”

He laughs, holding you close to him as you playfully shove against his frame. It’s a losing battle, finally slumping into his arms, ignoring the pain on your side from the awkward position. Yeosang seems to notice though, shifting his hold as he lies back on his bed.

"I won't force you to be something you don't want, y/n. Though my words do not hold as much trust as others, I promise I won't."

None of this is Wooyoung's work. His hands pull you closer to his body, soothened at the warmth of you surrounding him. How could he hate himself for lying to you when he gets this in return? He will feel terrible later, yes. He will hate himself right as you leave his side. But for now he enjoys it. Hums as he tucks his face into the curve of your neck, overjoyed when he hears comforting sounds escaping you. No, if he needed to lie again, he would do it. Just to feel you again.

Consequences be damned.

You nod, closing your eyes. "I know. Did you hear that conversation in the kitchen?"

"Walls are only a figurative barrier in this home."

"That's a yes, then."

"I try not to snoop, but I heard you say my name. It was hard not to pay attention to every word that left your lips. I tried leaving before you caught me, but I was a bit stunned. I didn't know how much you cared for me, y/n. I do not mind being your favorite, though." He chuckles, lips pressed into your hair.

"You're not my favorite," you whine, but his laughs only continue. "Yeosang!"

Yeosang’s words still linger in your head. Forgiving Wooyoung. Would you ever be able to do it? Whenever he sends you smiles, the memory of him killing Yeosang flashes in your head. It’s been hundreds of years, sure, but from what you know that hasn’t exactly changed him. You can’t even look at fruit the same, the boxes on the counter only piling because you’re scared of touching it. In fact, you only allow a few of them to follow you to the market to get food. With great reluctance, of course. Your place is still to leave.

Though you insisted that you'd never stay longer than another week, it's very much past that. Each time you arrive at an interview with expectations you'll be hired, you're rejected. Your friends still ignore your calls. It’s just as Subin and Sejun said - you have no one. All you have is these eight men who don’t truly love you, and who you suspect all want you to themselves one way or another.

“The food in the fridge is expired,” Seonghwa hums, placing a bundle of bananas into the cart. Yunho lingers next to him, hands tucked in his pocket as the three of you walk through the produce. “You’re the only one who eats, it’s not good to let it go to waste.”

“I told you,” you examine the cabbage. “I’m not touching anything any of you buy.”

“You let Seonghwa grab those bananas,” Yunho points out, quickly averting his eyes when you look at him. “Just saying!”

“Well I can tell he didn’t inject it with something strange, so I trust those for now. As long as they stay in my room.”

“Wooyoung isn’t allowed in the kitchen anymore. It’s safe, doe,” Seonghwa notes, following you to the register. “Hongjoong made sure of it.”

“Ah yes, the most trustworthy man in that house,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “No thanks. I’ll let my room turn into a grocery store before I put anything in that kitchen. And,” you look back at the both of them. “I found a place.”

Seonghwa stiffens, Yunho’s smile shifting. It’s strange how you never noticed before - the shifts in their expressions. If you blinked you wouldn’t have noticed Yunho’s smile lessen into more of a scowl, Seonghwa’s body stilling. The more you look at them the more they feel… scary. You’ve experienced this same feeling before, when you first met them. In all honesty you thought you were over it. That you were fine with them being vampires. But in these moments you can see why the stories considered them terrifying. They can so easily become non-human. Unreal. You look away, not wanting to linger on these feelings.

“Seonghwa, actually,” you start, still keeping your eyes forward. “Would you be able to drop off my food in my room? I need to take a trip somewhere.”

He moves in front of your cart, hands gripping the front to stop you in your tracks. His head tilts, brows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not leaving, not yet,” you sigh. “And I have all of my things still at the house. Too many important things to just abandon on a whim.”

“y/n-”

“If you want me to trust you,” you glare back at Yunho. “Then let me go for an afternoon. I’ll be back before you know it.”

They both exchange a look. Seonghwa finally lets go of the cart, walking around and nudging you off the handles. You let him take your place, glancing between the two.

“When you get home,” his eyes flick to Yunho. “Tell Hongjoong that we lost you in a crowd. And take this,” he hands you a small bottle. The words are in a foreign language, nothing you can decipher. “Spray this on you several blocks away from our home. In fact, do it when you’re at wherever you’re going. It blocks our senses of your smell. Actually,” Seonghwa takes it from your grasp, spraying it on your neck. “Tell him you found it in your room on the shelf if he finds you with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Yunho rubs his face, glancing at you. “He will kill us, truly.”

“He won’t when he sees her safe and sound when she comes home later. Right, doe?”

You nod quickly. It’s true, you don’t plan on running away now. Not until you find the truth. The real truth. He sends you a strained smile. “Good. Please get home by eight at night. Yunho and I will be running in just five minutes before telling them that we cannot find you. It will be… overwhelming for that moment, but it’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He leans forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Then we agree. I will see you soon, my doe.” He grips Yunho’s arm, pulling him along to the register.

The door is open before you enter. She never left it open, always afraid that something would happen while she was gone. And it’s warranted - the city isn’t as safe as it used to be. You slowly enter, a strong smell hitting you as you stand in the doorway. Like chemicals were spilled everywhere, the bleach stinging your nose. You take out your mask and put it on, slowly entering the living area. All of her things are in their places, though thrown about just like it usually is. It is almost eerie how perfectly placed they are - even her favorite magazine, open on a page that she would love to look over.

“Siyoon?” You say, picking up the book. A layer of dust covers it, your hands beginning to shake. She used to complain about the mess of your apartment. She’s the last person that would ever let it get this bad in her own home. You’re sure that she cleans everyday. You grip your phone, dialing her number again. It goes to voicemail just like before. “This isn’t funny, Siyoon,” you say, opening her room door.

Her clothing is thrown all over, as if she were in a rush to leave. Drawers thrown open, old makeup cracked on the floor. Spilled and dry, staining the hardwood. Was she afraid of something? Why would she leave so quickly? Your eyes flick to her phone on the dresser. You quickly pick it up, pressing the power button. A zero flashes at you before turning off again. You take it, tucking it in your pocket. Though this isn’t exactly what you pictured, you just hope that she’s okay. Whatever spooked her though, especially leaving without all of her things - what the hell happened?

And why can’t you get rid of the feeling that deep down, you know who was responsible?

“You let her out of your sight? What the fuck were you thinking?”

Hongjoong’s voice rings through the home as you step inside, shutting the door behind you. Just as the click echoes, everyone is at the entrance way. You furrow your brows as you meet their frightened eyes, sighing. “Don’t overreact-”

“Why would you disappear like that? We thought-” Jongho trails off, swallowing.

“I’m a fucking grown woman, I can do what I want,” you step around their bodies, glancing at Yunho and Seonghwa briefly. Their gazes are blank, though Seonghwa’s brighter, eyes softening when they rest on yours. You send him a quick smile as well, “Seonghwa? Were you able to finish shopping?”

“I left them in your room, my doe.”

“...Can you help me put them away, then?”

He nods quickly, stepping around everyone else. You can see the venom in their eyes as you ignore everyone else, your hand slowly sliding into Seonghwa’s, leading him down the hallway. Siyoon’s phone feels heavy in your pocket as you do so. You hope that whatever you find leads you to what happened. And despite all the arrows pointing to who obviously made her run away - you wish it wasn't them.

Seonghwa quietly helps you place your things in your makeshift cupboard and drawers, humming as he does so. You place your phone on your dresser along with Siyoon's delicately in your side table when he turns his back.

"I'm glad you're safe. And I'm happy you came back," He doesn't elaborate on his words. "I really am, doe. And I know you don't truly trust any of us really, but thank you for trusting me enough to safely bring your food home."

You nod, looking at him through your mirror. He leans against the opposing wall, staring at you. Your eyes meet in the mirror. Though you really had no time to dwell on it, they're all handsome. You're not ugly, far from it in your mind, but their beauty is intimidating. Having their attention on you had somehow lessened your confidence – though before them you already had plenty – being the driving object of their affections is frightening. You wonder if they look at you and see you, or see Rose. And if she is the temptress they say she was, and identical to you, well that's just another can of worms to dig through.

"We haven't known each other for long, but I can tell when you're overthinking. That distant look in your eyes. Whatever it is, you can say it. I'll answer it confidently."

"It's not a question, just an observation," you shrug, sitting on the edge of your bed. Seonghwa sits next to you, planting himself at the small chair just a meter or so away from you. "No need to look so serious, Hwa," you roll your eyes.

"The look told me otherwise."

"Rose was beautiful," you start, and he nods, though he looks confused.

"As are you."

"What I mean," you struggle with your words. Why is it so hard to speak? Each time one of them is in front of you it's like your words are restrained, harder to describe. "I'm not half as confident as she was. Not anymore. She and I are not the same people. I just don't understand how you could care for me half as much as her–"

"Doe," he shakes his head. "I belong to you."

"I don't want you to. You’re your own person, Seonghwa. How could you not understand that?"

"You must misunderstand my words," he shifts the chair closer to you. "I belong to you, y/n. It is my choice to say these words. Your soul is what I love. I want you to accept me as yours, because in my mind I am already. And I deeply desire for you to be mine even though I know it will never be," his lips tremble as he looks at you. "I hope that our days will no longer be filled with turmoil. It feels as if we haven't had a day of calamity for such a long time."

"Who's fault is that?" It's rhetorical, but he answers it anyway.

"Ours. It is our fault. It is mine as much as it is the other's."

You close your eyes and take a long breath. How could you be brave when he expresses himself with such raw emotion? Your heart oftentimes wavers in his presence. There's no real explanation; whether it be emotions unbeknownst to you from the past, or what you feel now. He just brings out a soft spot within you that you forget. And you hate it. You hate that your own self betrays you, makes you look past everything that has happened. His blatant begging for you should disgust you when you know of their obsession. You know that one of them killed Rose. And you know that none of them did anything to stop it. So why can you only look at him with… love?

"You don't belong to me," you repeat softly, less sure of your words. "I don't want you to belong to me."

"Anything you want–"

"Stop saying that," you look at him, holding back your tears as you meet his watery one's. "Don't look at me like that, Hwa. Don't do that to me."

"y/n–"

"I can't talk to you when you look at me like that," you admit, covering your face. "Fucking Hell, I can't do this anymore."

His cool touch brushes against your skin, slowly pulling your hands away. He presses his lips against the back of them, eyes fluttering. "Don't hide yourself from me."

"I…" You trail off, watching as he presses his lips against your wrist, kissing each fingertip. Your breath hitches as his teeth grazes against the skin of your thumb. "Seonghwa–"

"I love you, y/n," he whispers softly, holding your hands against his face. The red darkened, heavy as he takes in your face. "I won't ever stop."

He moves closer to you, thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. You're not too sure who leans first, but you feel the shudder of his breath against yours. His hands holding your head steady, tongues dragging across one another's, filling the silence. Your heart beats against your eardrums, hands gripping your pants as he holds you close.

"Wait," he pulls away, licking his lips. "I don't want you to think of me as a horrible man. I'm not trying to push your emotions to the side because I can't help myself."

You nod, grip loosening against your pants, "It was too much."

He laughs, shaking his head, "Too much? My pretty doe, it's never enough when it comes to you. But I don't want to rush things. I want the both of us to care for each other fully. Despite the urges," he closes his eyes briefly. "I am still a gentleman."

"You and Rose? Did you ever…?"

His lip curves into a small smile, shaking his head, "Despite my endless yearning and waiting, the only place I ever expressed my love for her was her lips. She told me that my love for her was too great, that it would be devastating if we did anything more. Not to her, but to me."

"Did you believe her?"

He nods slowly, "Rose was the only love of my long life, but I was not hers. And I didn't mind it, no, but she knew my feelings. She knew that I would break if she told me how she truly felt about me. I was thankful that she pushed me away at the time. As I am thankful that I was able to do it now," he admits, eyes roaming over yours. "You don't love me the way I love you. It would be a mistake to let it go further."

You rub your face. He's right, just as he always is. You let the moment get the best of you. Seonghwa has often been your weak point just as Yeosang. "Then can you stay?"

"Stay?"

"Tonight with me? I don't know, I…" Siyoon's apartment is still lingering in the back of your mind. If he's here, maybe you'll be able to ignore it. Ignore the phone in your drawer, the mystery hidden behind the darkened screen. "I need someone to stay tonight."

He doesn't question further, does not investigate. Instead he presses his lips to your forehead and leaves to shower. Soon enough he's back in the room, sliding beneath the sheets with you. Pulling you close against his chest, lips resting against the curve of your neck.

You can't quite remember how much time passed. All you can do is stare at yourself.

Broken.

You touch the bruise on your lips, the darkened skin beneath your eyes, discoloration on your skin. Watch as his hand slowly drags along your skin, wrapping around the curve of your shoulder, lips pressed against the space behind your ear. His low hums, lids opening to meet your gaze in the mirror. The deep scarlet of his irises, slow smirk of his lips as he breaths against you. You look utterly ruined, tiredness dripping from the reflection. And yet here he is. Staring at you with adoration, desire, care. He stares at the broken figure of you and loves it. Your tongue drags across your lips, blinks quick.

"You can look at that reflection and still love her?" You whisper. He moves his lips from your skin, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His head leans into yours, cheek creasing as he nods.

"How could I not?"

"I don't look like myself," You look dead. The light in your eyes is barely there anymore. Perhaps this is what they've wanted. The scars and cuts on your body aren't exactly his fault, though you've never looked like this before meeting all of them. "I look like I've been run over by a truck."

"You were stabbed y/n, I think giving yourself a bit of leeway would do wonders."

Though he isn't wrong in the slightest, keeping your gaze on the reflection only seems to darken your thoughts. You watch as his hand rests opposite from where his head is, thumb tracing your beauty marks. He keeps his eyes on yours, softening when he sees how moist your eyes are. Without another word, his hand turns your head to him. You look away from the mirror reluctantly, meeting his gaze.

"Do you believe these eyes of mine are lying?" He's never looked more sure than he does now. "Doe, so much has happened to you. The one man you could count on isn't here. We all know that."

You've never said how much you care for Yeosang, but it seems to be more obvious than you realized. Your feelings for Jongho were pretty equal with your feelings for Yeosang, but this dread each time you look at him just won't go away. Yeosang never had a choice, but Jongho did. All of them did.

"You love him more than the rest of us." It's not a question. And surprisingly he doesn't look angry as he says it. "It's hard."

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Love is never something to apologize for."

“I don’t know why I do,” you start. “I’m not one to believe in past lives influencing current ones but there’s always been a tie to him. He is one of the reasons why it’s so hard to not stay,” you admit, ignoring Seonghwa’s burning gaze in the mirror. “When he left it felt like I needed to go too. But now that he’s back, it just feels-”

“Like you can’t leave?” He asks, and you slowly nod. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else, his fingers slowly folding into yours. You let him guide you back into the bed. Though that was the end of the conversation, your thoughts still consume you.

There is this constant thought that everything you say will be used against you. Hongjoong does it often, his sneer and quick glances, taking in your words to remind you of them later. Yunho does it as well, though a bit more secretive. You can’t quite figure out the others. None of this changes your stance though. You’ve told them you were leaving. Yeosang be damned. You’re not going home, the reminder from Sejun that your family wouldn’t be safe. But it’s scary to think that once you leave, you have nowhere to go. Visiting old friends is not what you’d like to do either – they will be the ones hurt in the end. All in all, it seems that in all, it seems that you only have them. Just them.

The thought makes you queasy.

Seonghwa seems to feel the shift of your emotions, the arm wrapped around your torso tightening, pulling you closer. You shiver at his cool arm resting against your stomach, lids heavy. If only you knew what was coming tomorrow, you would have left that night.

If only you knew of the terrors of the coming days.

Mingi is the one to break the news.

You’re sitting on the grass in the backyard, notebook in hand as you brainstorm where exactly you’re going after leaving. Yunho’s the first to step outside, a strained smile on his lips as he nods, immediately giving you his back as he starts up his bike. Soon after, one or two of them trickle outside to seemingly random spots. Hongjoong rests against the opening to the outside door, hands against his chest. You aren’t keen on the idea of all of them surrounding you in some way, gripping your notebook tightly as you glance between them. Mingi is the first to move from his spot (he’s been sitting on the lower roof lately), landing on the ground and slowly walking over to you.

“Who died?” You ask just as he begins to speak. His eyes flick to Hongjoong, before landing on yours. “Ah, are we playing another guessing game?”

“Well…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeosang’s gone.”

You roll your eyes, attention back on your notebook. “I never said I wanted to participate in them.”

“No, doe,” Seonghwa appears on the side of you, a small smile on his lips. Since that night the two of you have grown closer. Most of your time is spent by yourself, and the remainder, he usually seeks you out. You don’t mind it, he’s quiet most of the time, enjoying the silence along with you. This expression on his face, though. Worry is never a good look. “Yeosang left. He won’t be coming back.”

Your brows furrow, looking to Hongjoong. “What did you do?”

He only sighs, shaking his head. “You love to blame me for others, don’t you?”

“Who else is there to blame? Yeosang wouldn’t leave on his own accord, not like that. Not without-” You.

You swallow. “He wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t, and yet he did. Pitiful,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head. “I was quite enjoying his presence around here. Made everyone else tolerable.”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. “Not the best time for jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

You stand up from your spot, ignoring Seonghwa’s lingering touch on your shoulder as you move closer to Hongjoong. You haven’t spoken to him since the incident, and in fact you’d rather not speak to him at all, but Yeosang left. And there’s only two people who would make him do it. Hongjoong, the prideful captain himself, or …

“Wooyoung made him go?” You ask.

Hongjoong says nothing. You turn around, noticing that conveniently, said man is nowhere to be found. A warm hand touches yours and you immediately step away from him, seething.

“Come with me to dinner and I’ll show you.”

You scoff, “No.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Then I suppose you’ll never know where your dear Yeosang went off to. And thus, I plead for you not to come to me and complain and whine, but I’m sure you will. It’s what you do best.” He shrugs, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“Does no one else know?”

“Unfortunately, I’m the only one. It’s a captain’s duty to know where his crew is at all times, my sea.”

“You’re insufferable,” you rub your face, thinking. He waits patiently for a response. There isn’t any point in pretending; you’ll have to go to this dinner with him whether you like it or not. “If I go, you’ll tell me? No tricks, Hongjoong?”

“None at all, beautiful,” his grin only widens. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You balance the chopsticks between your fingers, blatantly ignoring the stare down from the man in front of you. You only agreed to this to learn of Yeosang’s whereabouts, and perhaps – ignoring all of the red flags, hoping to see him. Taking Hongjoong’s invitation to a private dinner is the last thing that you ever wanted but here you are. Dining across from a mad man.

You reach for the garlic bread, Hongjoong pushing the basket closer to you.

"You could have just told me where he is and leave out all of this," you say, thanking the waiter as he places the plate in front of you. It's pasta all'amatriciana; Hongjoong insisted that you'd enjoy it. He had nothing for himself of course, tending to a bit of red wine.

He takes a sip, lips resting on the edge of the glass. He uses his free hand to gesture to the food. You would scowl but it's best not to get on his bad side for now. You take a bite, holding in your shock. It's probably the best pasta you've ever had.

"You needn't hide it, my sea, I can see it in your eyes. Good, right?" His tongue drags along the glass. You look away.

"So Yeosang?"

"He's gone. He won't be back anytime soon. Sorry to disappoint."

"Was it his choice?" Your voice is low. The last thing you expected was for him to leave you alone with them. Especially with your last conversation. Yeosang didn't give you any signs of wanting to go. "Or did someone decide for him?"

“It will get cold if you continue to stare so feverously,” his eyes flick to the plate in front of you. “What will you do, stab me with a fork?”

“It’s useless because iron doesn’t hurt you,” you sigh, taking another bite. The restaurant is filled with patrons, all couples from ranges of ages dining. Places like this have never been your cup of tea. Most guests appear pretentious, noses held high, words not used in everyday language falling from their lips. Harsh words to the waiters just doing their jobs. Many moaning and groaning at how delicious a salad with a sprinkle of salt tastes. Hongjoong bringing you here only solidifies that he doesn’t really know you. You’d never enjoy a place like this in your life.

“Your face is an open book,” he grins, taking another sip. “I’ve brought you here for a reason.”

“You’re ignoring my questions, so I don’t really care-“

“Oh, but I think you will once I explain it to you."

You sigh, "Hard to believe. Pretty sure you just dragged me out here for yourself."

"You lack trust," he shrugs. "Why would I bring the one I love to a place without meaning behind it?"

You take another bite. "Nothing has changed over the hundreds of years that have passed. All reincarnations of me, you either risked your livelihood or killed theirs along the way. You will so easily die for love. Does that not terrify you? Willing to give up yourself for a fickle love?" You meet his eyes. "Hongjoong, how do you think this will end? Have you truly deluded yourself into thinking we will be together? That I will fall at your feet, and finally look at you with care?"

He pauses for a moment.

"Loving you less is not possible, my sea. Our souls meeting over and over again like this is no coincidence. I never sought you out, you always came to me. We did not find each other by accident."

"That I agree with," you choose your next words carefully. "But have you ever considered that my soul sought out yours for healing? Because from what you've said and what I know, my soul has only suffered in your presence. If you truly cherished me you would let me go."

His lip quirks.

"Is it so hard to love me? Is it so impossible that you will not even consider the thought? Attempt at merely liking me? Is it so difficult for even a brief moment to look at me and think that there is a part of me that you adore, that you see as worthy of your attention? Can you possibly gaze upon me and see that my love for you is never ending, everlasting. I know that you will never love me as desperately as I do you, but can you not try?" Though you can only see the white of his eyes, his words oddly resonate within you. If it were another life, if you met him under different circumstances, there would have been a chance. A moment where you could look at him and think, well, he could be someone you love. Even now, you care for him in a sick and unreasonable way. But is it love? No.

Hongjoong is not a person you can ever love.

"If you wanted me to love you, you would have let me go long ago, Hongjoong," you say simply, sinking deeper into the seat. Oddly relaxing despite the circumstances. "Perhaps then I would have."

His mind wanders for a moment as he takes in your words. He desperately wanted to be wanted, to have him be the only though in the forefront of your mind, to have only him as the one you desired, you loved. Hongjoong’s plan was not for you to spend time with all of them, no. He wanted you so entrapped in his lure that you would not care if the others were there or not. He wanted you so deluded, that you would not even notice that they were gone in the first place. He does not quite know how much longer he can last, knowing you're just out of his grasp.

That is why he brought you here.

"You desperately want to know where your Yeosang has gone. You see,” He adjusts himself in his seat, eyes flicking over the tables surrounding the two of you. “All of these people in this room were invited personally. You’re surrounded by presidents of the largest companies; CFOs, CEOs, CMOs… all of the horrendously affluent figureheads in our country. They’ve all partaken in some sort of black-market scheme, or invested in a medication that is more lethal than a snake’s venom. They believe this dinner was a congratulations on selling one million doses of death across the globe. It is anything but,” his eyes move to yours. “Yeosang is here to kill them all.”

You tense, eyes widening. “What?“ He places his hand on yours, nudging his head in a different direction. You turn around to follow where he points.

Yeosang holds a glass in his hands, the silhouette of his suit blending into the decorative curtains just behind him. His eyes seem distant, jaw tight. The red seems to be burning each time someone passes him by, the grip on his cup only tightening. He wears a suit like everyone else in the crowd, blending in with ease. If Hongjoong didn't point him out you're sure you wouldn't have noticed him in the room at all.

“He has always been this martyr in your eyes. This pillar of good. Sure, this is a great deed to mankind; killing every single human in this room will save millions. But do they not deserve trials? There are guests here that are just innocents, accompanied by the true sinners. Of course, he doesn’t care for that, because he'd rather a few guiltless people’s lives be lost than seeing these other dejected souls plant their seeds of hatred and greed another day.”

You try to stand but Hongjoong is quicker, stepping behind you before you can blink, forcing your body back into the seat. He rests his head on your shoulder, lips just a brush away from your ears. He presses his hand against your mouth. “When he loses himself in his own thoughts he becomes this way. Detached. Uncaring of human life once he set a goal in his mind. He locked the doors already, y/n. He will start from the back since it gives the people closest to the front less warning of what's happening. Let us watch the one you love do his self assigned duty.”

It happens too fast for your eyes to watch. He starts from the far end of the restaurant as Hongjoong said. You aren’t sure how he’s doing it, until you see each person grip their necks, choking. He’s quick, moving from table to table, never lingering. The music is too loud in the room for people to take notice, laughing and enjoying their time as people die around them. Blood spills across tables, splattering on the white tablecloths.

“It’s a massacre,” you whisper, too shocked to look away. You wonder if he’s even noticed the two of you.

“It’s a revelation,” Hongjoong grins, laughing as the heads hit the silverware. Slowly people begin to notice, murmurs amongst the crowd as he continues his path. Your gaze moves to the table he's coming upon. There sits a small family, a child laughing with their parents as they eat. He seems unfazed by the patrons, expression mute as he makes his way. Hongjoong’s hand falls from your lips, giving you an opportunity to speak.

“Yeosang!”

He stills in his movements, head immediately moving to where you sit. The emotionless expression shifts to horror, gaze flicking over yours, as if you aren’t truly there. So it is as you suspected - he never knew you were in the room. Would he have even cared if he did?

“I’ll let you have a moment with him. Unfortunately, I have to finish the job. No witnesses,” he shrugs, leaving you alone at the table as you stare at Yeosang across the room. He drops the knife from his hand, steps hurried. You stand up from your spot, body shaking as he moves closer.

Yeosang is just like the others. It was foolish to think otherwise. Rose was right in her words – they are monsters, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. Even Yeosang, the sweet man who wooed you beyond simple words, is just like the rest of them. You try to back away but he uses his speed against you. Hands wrapping around your arms as he stares at you. You look down, the blood staining his fingers rubbing off on your shirt. Surrounded by it often should have numbed your senses. But it is as it was before, your stomach turning. He holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he meets yours. You flinch at his thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"You weren't supposed to see me like this, pretty," he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips. He traces the outline, humming softly. "You were supposed to be home."

If it's fear holding you back from speaking you don't dwell on it. His head tilts, sucking in a breath. "Say something to me. Tell me."

You were never able to resist his charm, even now. Your hands rise, covering his. He shivers at how hot yours are, even as you pull them off your face. You take a step back, the screams rising in volume. People around you are desperate to escape; Cries of children. the sounds of gargling, choking, Hongjoong swiftly killing each and every person. You hold your hands over your ears, crouching into a ball as the sounds just seem to grow louder and louder. The cool touch of his makes you tense and he immediately pulls away.

"I…" You stop in your own words, glass breaking. Sobs continue to drake your body. They're killers. They kill. It's so foolish of you to think otherwise.

He crouched down next to you, "Rose–"

He stills.

"I was a fool," you whisper, swallowing slowly. "I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"No. No. It was a slip of the tongue, y/n. I swear it. I know you, I know there's a difference."

“How about you go back home, Yeosang? We have important things to discuss.”

You don’t dare look Yeosang in the eyes again, afraid that what you might see will only hurt you more. You’re not too sure when he left, but the room has suddenly become quiet. You look up.

Hongjoong’s tongue drags across his skin. An almost giddy, joyful expression crosses his gaze– absolutism, resolved, accomplished. How someone can hold pure glee inside of them as they lick off the blood of the person they killed is beyond you. His burning gaze reaches yours. Hungry. Satisfied. The gaze of a man who knows he has won. He drops the last body from his hands, the thump echoing in your ears through the ringing. He steps over the other bodies, kicking some of them on his slow stroll to you.

You crumble. There is no use for it, that you know. You could run to the ends of the Earth and he will find you with ease. No matter what words you say to reject him he merely takes it as motivation to continue, another obstacle to overcome. You could spend your last breath telling him how much you hate him and he will only guffaw. The question you have is silly, obscene even. But you must know. You must know to determine what your next steps will be.

"Will you ever let me go?"

He stops less than a foot away from you, smiling. It's a horrid expression to look back at, lips curled back, eyes widened to the point of being disturbing to gaze upon. He tilts his head the same way he always does, fingers curled around the wooden handle. The irises of his eyes slowly glaze over, red replaced with an iridescent white. He crouches down, lifting your chin with the blunt end of his knife.

"There is not a place you will go where I will not find you, my sea. If there were a chance you'd attempt to get away, I will only appear by your side again and again and again," he pressed his cheek against yours, a low hum. "Why would you want to leave me? You can have anything you desire when you stay."

When. Not if.

"And if I am to die?"

"Oh no," he moves away from you, bottom lip poking out, hand cupping your face. His knife is steady as he rubs his thumb against your cheek. "Your soul is mine. If you die, I will only find you again. Why do through the torture of us doing this all over, when you can just accept it as it is?"

"You've waited hundreds–"

He sighs loudly, "And I will wait more. I will not die. And as long as I am here, you will be. That is just how the fates decide."

He hooks his arm beneath yours, lifting you with ease. "Now let us go home. The others are waiting for you."

His warm lips press against your forehead. Your eyes are wide open as he pushes the bodies to the slide. The blood staining his clothing soaks into yours. He doesn't seem to care though, humming that eerily familiar tune again. It is the opposite of comforting. But you let your body relax in his arms.

You let him take you back home.

---

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

#fic: clair de lune #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez yandere

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