#FROM ME TO YOU; THIS IS MY DYING WISH [PLAYLIST]

[cherrycolored-punk]

still frames - bestfriend! e.m. x fem! reader

author’s note: reminiscing about the friend I had in high school, the one who I’d create playlists with and who’d call to play his guitar for me every night. and you can’t tell me that Eddie isn’t the same type of dude. the sweet bits are based on the reminiscing. the rest is pure fiction with our favorite goof. anyways, enjoy!🧡

w/c: 5k

warnings: angst, pining, smut (oral - reader receiving, protected p in v), spanking, teasing, uhhhh let me know if I forgot anything

‼️ THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI ‼️

Raindrops race down your living room window in lines, and you watch them from your spot on the floor. It’s fall, and the lush greens of summer have begun to change color; their leaves now varying hues of orange and yellow. They create a coziness in your apartment, a warmth that feels like it envelops you and is amplified by the scent of your favorite candle; crisp apple, nectar, and warm clove spice fill your lungs with each breath you take.

Eddie lays beside you on his stomach, focusing on his phone and the playlist you created for him.

The playlists were a tradition since middle-school, a way to introduce each other to a new sound or a band the other might not have heard of. For some time, though, you’d been using it to send cryptic messages, and he hadn’t caught on. 

Your crush on Eddie came suddenly but was felt all at once. 

It was a spring morning nearly two years ago, and you’d laid dying in bed, except not really. You just had the flu, but you felt close to death and had texted him as much.

Eddie: what do you need?

You: hit me with your van, stab me in the face…please end my suffering.

He, of course, didn’t grant your wish, but he’d shown up at your apartment after work with a grocery bag full of supplies. Eddie was still wearing his navy coveralls covered in oil and smelled like grease. From what you could smell, anyway. You could barely breathe through your nose.

“I got you theraflu tea, and I don’t want to hear you complain about the taste. You just need to drink it,” he scolded before you could even complain. 

Your jaw snapped shut.

“Also got your favorite soup, four cans,” he held his fingers up, “orange juice, Vicks, popsicles in case your throat hurts, those saltines you like, and,” he turned, “I brought Scream for us to watch since I know it’s your favorite.”

It hit you like a ton of bricks, made your heart stutter, and nearly stop. 

It was the way he was smiling, the familiar excited gleam in his eye as he looked at you. It was the fact that he’d shown up after a twelve-hour shift with all your favorite sick foods in tow. 

Your eyes traced over his face like you were seeing him for the first time. The sharp edge of his jaw, the plump of his lips, the freckles that dotted the slope of his nose, and when did Eddie become so beautiful?

You’d tried blaming it on the fact that less oxygen was getting to your brain and a virus was wrecking your immune system, but now you didn’t have the same excuse. Now you couldn’t look at Eddie without noticing the pinks of his cheeks or the different smiles he had. Couldn’t be around him without yearning to hug him or hold him in a way that didn’t scream just friends.

The past year and a half had been overwhelming, the yearning making you feel hollow. Like if you didn’t say something, it would continue to eat you alive, but telling him ran the risk of ruining the friendship and that was a fate worse than being alone.

You glance over to the playlist he’s listening to, at the song playing, and clench your eyes shut.

Despite the music in your ears, you can hear the song reverberating off the walls of your skull. The one you heard that made you think of him. It plays in your head, having memorized every lyric and the way the singer’s voice influxes with certain words.

Bet you never knew it

Think you’d suit me just fine

And you know he’ll never get it, never know you’re hopelessly in love with him.

You close your eyes and focus on the song, one he chose specifically for you. 

Good Riddance plays soft, a break from the heavy metal he always added but not a song you hadn’t heard before. It brings a sense of nostalgia in the form of a lump in your throat, and you swallow hard, images of high school flashing through your mind like a retro view-master. It feels like yesterday and another lifetime all at once. The plays you were in, the various games you cheered at, going to Corroded Coffin’s shows, staying over at Eddie’s house, the first time he’d convinced you to join a campaign…the face of “I told you so” when you told him you had actually enjoyed it.

Eddie pulls the earbud from your ear, auburn hair tickling you where it meets your bare shoulder and interrupting your reminiscing. You turn to him, curious eyes meeting his steady gaze. 

“What is it?” you question with a quirk of your brow, unable to decipher the expression that colored his features. 

“Curious choice of songs here,” his voice carries a teasing lilt as he turns onto his side, facing you. 

You could feel his gaze on you, searching your features for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet. 

“How do you figure?” you turn, matching his pose, and rest your chin on your palm.

Eddie thought for a moment, his eyes turning up and to the left as he searched for the words. 

He looks handsome as ever, pale skin glowing from the light of your candle. Cinnamon eyes lit with a hint of mischief and something you couldn’t name. 

His eyes shift down and meet yours, a broad dimpled smile slotting into place. 

“Something tells me you have a crush on someone,” and your heart practically drops into your ass at his words.

“A crush?” You ask, half-laughing at his accusation in an attempt not to vomit.

“Oh, don’t play coy. Every song on here drones on about love,” he points to his phone, his eyebrows pushed into his bangs. 

“They’re just good songs, Edward,” you shove his head and lay flat on your back, but he follows your movements, hovering over you. Close enough that you can smell the spearmint of his gum and the cologne he wears; musk and smoked suede. It makes your mouth water, his proximity making your heart lurch in your ribcage. 

“I never said they weren’t good, Princess.” 

Your hand reaches out to push his face away at the nickname, but he catches your wrist in his grasp, a cocky smile spreading wide on his lips. 

“What happened to us not questioning the playlist, Munson? Isn’t that rule number one since day one?” You attempt to fight your wrist out of his grasp, but it remains firm. 

“Let go,” you grumble, and he shakes his head.

“Not until you tell me,” he counters.

“Tell you what?” you stop fighting, and your arm falls back near your head, his fingers still wrapped around it as though he were pinning you there. 

“Who is it?” he shrugs, but you don’t miss how his adam’s apple bobs as he asks. 

You wonder if Eddie can hear how your heart hammers, your senses overwhelmed by his sudden inquisition. 

“There isn’t anyone,” but your gaze turns from him, and he knows you’re lying. 

“Not good enough,” he shakes his head.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I need to know,” you look back at him. The need you’d felt for the past year reflected in his gaze.

Time slows.

“Why?” your voice is softer, barely above a whisper. Breath held as you wait for his answer. 

He lets go of your wrist and settles back at your side, reaching for his phone as you watch him. The anticipation of his response pushing you closer to cardiac arrest. 

Eddie pulls out your other earbud and places one of his own in your ear. 

I Want You plays, and you recognize the familiar sound of Mitski’s voice. One that is full of yearning and a palpable sorrow. You look at him with a curious upturn of your brow, a silent question, and he turns the screen of his phone towards you. 

It’s a new playlist, one you hadn’t seen, and it bears a simple title: your name. 

A million thoughts race through your head, but you can’t find the words or the right question. 

“Mitski?” You decide to tease, your cheeks warm as the feelings rush through you. The realization that maybe, just maybe, he loved you too. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but it’s full of affection, and his face leans closer—his gaze darts between your eyes and the swell of your lips. 

Your mouth parts in anticipation, eyes fluttering shut as your head lifts to meet him halfway. 

A small gasp escapes your lips at the first contact, his lips softer than you’d ever imagined. Slotting perfectly together with yours. He tasted like the gum he chewed and the soda he’d had; sweeter than you thought he’d be.

Eddie’s hand cups your face, gently holding your jaw as his thumb rubs the apple of your cheek. Holding you almost reverently. 

The kiss deepens as he pulls you on top of him, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your tongue swipes against his in response, and you swallow the moan he feeds you - fingers tangling in the fabric of his black t-shirt as he holds you to him. 

His large hand wanders down your back and over the curve of your ass, gripping the dough of it. You can’t help the circle of your hips as you grind against his thigh. Chasing the friction you so desperately need. 

Your lungs begin to ache as the kiss deepens, desperate for oxygen but more so for his touch, and you roll over, pulling his weight on top of you. Enjoying the feel of his body pressed into yours, and his knee slotted between your legs. 

Eddie pulls away, taking a deep breath to fill his burning lungs, and you chase his fleeting lips - eyes still closed. He chuckles, rubbing your cheek affectionately - memorizing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your body underneath him.

You breathe in deeply, gaze finally meeting his, and the first thing you notice is the flush of his cheeks. Then the way his brown eyes are almost obsidian; darkened with need. His nose brushes yours as he leans in for another kiss, just as soft as the first but quick so he can look at you again. 

“Are you finally going to tell me who it is?” He questions, lips hovering over your jaw, and you can barely breathe. Anticipating his touch. 

You shrug your shoulder, not ready to admit to defeat. 

“Couldn’t tell you, just some guy,” you play with the collar of his shirt, acting aloof. 

“Just some guy,” he repeats with a shake of his head, pressing a kiss to the space between your jaw and your ear. 

Your breath comes out shaky, and you can only nod.

“Was hoping it was me, Princess,” he kisses down your neck causing goosebumps to sprout along your arms.

His lips press against the skin of your shoulder, pushing at the strap of your dress with his mouth to nudge it out of the way. 

The curve of his lips is a whisper above your skin, his head dipping down and tracing the tops of your breasts. You arch into his touch, desperate to feel his mouth over every inch of your body. 

He stops abruptly, his head lifting back to hover over yours with a mocking grin. Enjoying how he already affects you, the way you whine when you don’t get what you want. 

“As if you don’t know the answer,” you gruff, and he leans in, shaking his head. 

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispers, face inches from yours—a dare. 

The stubborn part of you wants to deny it, wants to keep the secret close in case this was all in jest, but there’s another part that yearns to hear him say it too. To hear him say it back. For it to be more than a private playlist with your name attached.

“It’s you,” and you almost want to disappear. To sink into the floor or to be swallowed whole. Despite the kiss, despite the way his body presses closer to yours when he finally hears you say the quiet part out loud. Saying it out loud made it real, the threat of losing him as a friend more imminent. 

But his mouth is back on yours, more fervent than before. His hand traces up your thigh and grips the soft flesh. Pressing himself against you. 

You kiss him back with just as much need, an eager hand pushing at the hem of his shirt until you feel his skin. The curve of your nails drags lightly down his abdomen, stopping just above his belt. Enjoying the way the coarse hairs that lead into his pants feels against your fingers. Your other hand curls in his hair, holding his face to yours. 

Eddie shudders at the sensation, a small gasp spilling from his lips as they leave yours. You look at him through hooded eyes, a slight grin slotting into place when you notice his flushed cheeks and hair slightly disheveled. 

Energy thrums through you, making your heart pound. God, you want to make him gasp like that again.

“Was that so hard?” He questions, his expression a little cocky despite his breathlessness, and if you weren’t so eager to kiss him again you might just push his face from yours. 

“Shut up,” you say affectionately and kiss him again. 

Soft, sweet. Relishing in the feel of his lips until it isn’t enough. Until the carnal hunger can’t be ignored. 

Your tongue swipes against his lower lip, and you suck it between your own. Swallowing his low moan. The palm of your hand trails lower, small fingers wrapping around his handcuff belt. Breath caught in your throat until it makes your lungs burn, and you pull away. 

Eddie watches you, your slow, languid movements causing him to hold his breath in anticipation. His long, callused fingers push up, up, up until you feel them beneath your panties, matching your pace, creating a line of fire wherever they meet your skin. 

His belt falls open with a rumble of metal, and he presses his forehead to yours; hand gripping your ass, fingers spreading you apart, and edging closer to your center. 

Your palm rubs against his coarse pubic hairs as you slide your hand further into his boxers, a small gasp escaping your lips when your fingers rub against the warm length of his arousal. Eddie is bigger than you had imagined, and you’d spent plenty of time picturing him while in bed. Legs spread and fingers working you over the edge. But this is better than a daydream. 

His cock jumps against your palm as you wrap your fingers along his shaft, exploring the soft skin and the thick vein that lines his length. Your thumb brushes against his tip, collecting the pre-cum that leaks from it. 

Dark eyes watch as you remove your hand and bring your thumb to your mouth, tongue swirling against your digit before sucking it clean. 

A groan escapes Eddie’s lips, his jaw slack. Eyes hooded with need. 

His next movements are fast, quicker than your mind can keep up with.

He flips you onto your stomach, mouth racing down your back eagerly; needy hands pushing the fabric of your dress up until your ass is exposed. 

“This okay,” he questions, fingers hooked on the lace of your panties, and you whine, ass wiggling eagerly beneath him in response. He slaps the fat of it, a cocky laugh falling from his lips, but he wastes no time.

Eddie tosses your panties over his head absently; gaze focused on the swell of your butt. He hooks an arm around your waist and drags you up on all fours until you’re bared to him. His hands are on your ass like an anchor as he dips his head closer. 

The scruff of his beard scrapes against your soft skin, his warm breath felt against your spine. Each kiss is slow and deliberate, felt in your core as his lips trail down the small of your back and over the valley of your ass. He grips your cheeks and spreads them, revealing the rim of your ass and your glistening cunt. 

“So fucking pretty,” and he practically whimpers at the sight, grabbing his cock to adjust the strain against his jeans. 

He traces his middle finger over your slit and to your bundle of nerves, creating a circle around the bud; a sensation that makes your hips jolt, a soft moan escaping your lips. 

You breathe in sharply when you feel the nudge of his nose against your sex, his tongue swiping along your folds. Savoring the way you taste. 

He teases you, tongue flicking against your clit before swiping towards your aching center and stretching you over his tongue. A guttural moan escapes your lips, your nails digging into the plush of your carpet at the sensation. 

Eddie buries his face deeper, pushing his tongue further into you with a groan that vibrates through you. 

“Oh my god,” you keen, reaching behind and knotting your hands into his hair. You grind against his face, eyes rolling as his tongue darts in and out of your sopping cunt. Fingers pressing into your clit. 

“Fuck,” he moans, voice gruff. 

His tongue laps at your arousal, middle finger prodding your entrance. You release his head, bracing against the carpet. He stretches you inch by inch before adding another, his digits curling inside you. Slowly, he begins to pump them into you, hitting a spot that makes your breath catch in your throat. You clench around him, the orgasm already building.

“Eddie,” you whine, spurring his movements to quicken. For his mouth to wrap around your clit and flick his tongue against it, eager for you to come undone.

You ride his fingers, desperate for the release and out of your mind with need. Body humming, warmed over from the intensity of your arousal.

“Gonna come for me, Princess?” 

You nod your head, pushing your pussy back against him. Desperate for his tongue on your sensitive bud. 

“S-so close,” you stammer. 

Every muscle in your body tenses, and you bury your face in the carpet as the feeling crashes over you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. The moan trapped in your throat and eyes clenched shut until, finally, your center unfurls. 

Your cunt flutters around Eddie’s fingers, and you moan his name as your legs begin to shake, but he doesn’t stop. He continues to pump his fingers into you, groaning at the noise it makes and the way your pussy grips him. His tongue flicks wildly against your clit, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Your legs shake more intensely as tears spring to your eyes. Bordering overstimulation. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you beg, and suddenly, he pulls his fingers from you. Fat tongue dragging against your wet heat and savoring every drop of your essence. 

He slaps your ass once. Twice. Leaving kisses where his hands were before and trailing them up your back, pushing the fabric of your dress up with him until he pushes it off entirely. 

He’s bent over you, torso pressed to your back. Hard arousal pressed to your sopping center. Warm breath felt against your neck as he whispers.

“Sound so fucking pretty, want to hear you again. Want to watch you.” 

He presses closer to you so you can feel just how badly he wants you, and you shudder. You match his movements, pushing your ass back against him, turning to watch the way his eyes close and his jaw clenches. 

“Do you have a condom?” You whisper, and his eyes open abruptly, searching yours.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, nodding his head late as though his body was just catching up with his thoughts. 

But he doesn’t move, and it makes you feel shy. A little unsure of yourself. You squirm beneath him and flip over so that you’re face-to-face. 

“We don’t have to,” you rub an absent hand against his face, trying not to think about the fact that you were mostly naked and he was hovering inches from you, fully clothed. 

Eddie shakes his head and leans closer.

“I want to,” he says with more conviction and kisses your cheek, brushing his lips along your jaw. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to,” he whispers against your neck. 

His tongue swipes along your neck and nips at your soft flesh. A free hand wanders down your side, creating goosebumps in their path. 

“Have you thought of me?” You ask, dragging a hand down his sternum to the top of his still-open jeans. Your voice is teasing, heavy with a flirtation he’d never heard before, and he nods. No longer cocky, hovering above you but entirely at your mercy. 

“What have you thought about?” You push your hand back into his boxers and begin to stroke him, jaw going slack as you watch his eyes flutter shut. 

Eddie groans, the fingers at your side digging into your skin.

“Y-you in my bed,” he stammers, mind occupied by the feeling of your hand wrapped around his dick. Your grip tightens around him, your grasp firm as you pump his cock faster.

“Is that it?” You whisper against his mouth, nipping at the pout of his bottom lip. He follows your mouth as you pull away, and he shakes his head.

“Thought about how good you’d look as I fuck you,” his words are a little breathless, but they cause your thighs to clench. 

The movement isn’t lost on him. It spurs him on, the familiar cocky grin slotting into place—a glint of mischief in his eye. 

“You’ve thought of it too, haven’t you?” His nose brushes yours, lips hovering over your mouth as he waits for your response.

The shudder that runs through your body gives you away, and you nod. Hand still pumping his cock.

Eddie kisses you more tenderly than you expected. His lips soft against your own, relishing the feel of you. 

“How often?” He questions, mouth still hovering over yours. Hand tracing down your thigh and up again.

You try to concentrate, hand still working him but your rhythm unsteady as you debate to tell him the truth. 

“Every day,” you stroke him again, “sometimes twice a day.”

His mouth crashes against yours, all teeth and tongue. Your hand reaches from his boxers and begins to push at his jeans. He helps you, one hand next to your head, holding his weight above you, and the other helping push his jeans until he kicks them off. Eddie sits up and tugs off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his torso—the dark lines against his alabaster skin. You trace your fingertips over them, lips pressing against his chest as he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. Eddie tosses the fabric aside, eyes fixated on the curve of your tits. 

“Fucking hell,” his voice is low, appreciative, and he reaches out to trace his fingers along your newly exposed skin. Your back arches into his touch, watching his thumb roll against your nipple and pinch the sensitive flesh between his fingers. A moan falls from your lips, and your head rolls back, legs closing around him.

His head dips to your neck, and he kisses down your chest, over the slopes of your breasts. 

Eddie’s tongue flicks and sucks, pulling your nipple between his teeth. One hand gripping your hip and leading you back down until you’re lying beneath him.

He reaches for his jeans and grabs his wallet, pulling a condom out. 

You stop him before he can unwrap it, “Wait.”

“Are you okay?” He stops and watches you with worry.

“Can we,” you pause, “can we go to my room? To the bed?”  

“Afraid of a little carpet burn, Princess?” He teases, and you swat his bicep, pushing at his chest so you can move past him. 

“Shut up, Munson,” you push his face, but he grabs your hand, standing and pulling you along with him. 

You turn from him to walk to your room, and he slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as you run away from him, your giggles filling the apartment. Eddie chases you, hand reaching out to slap your butt cheeks every so often until you reach the room and suddenly turn to face him.

His chest crashes against yours, and your chuckle dies when you look at him again. The desire in his eyes, the blush that’d crept into his cheeks, and the state of his hair. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him as he leads you to the bed.

Your back plops against the soft mattress, and he drags your ass to the edge, legs spread wide for him. 

He unwraps the condom and rolls the rubber down his shaft, one thumb drawing circles against your clit. Gathering your slick. 

You pant as he works you up, whining when he stops, only to jolt when his wrapped length rubs against your slick folds. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as he inches into you, his eyebrows pushing together as your cunt wraps around his cock.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, gripping your hip with his free hand. 

Eddie is a stretch, but the feel of him pushing into you is delicious - every inch making your toes curl. 

“Oh,” you moan, and it’s all you can manage. Words turning to nonsense once he’s fully seated inside of you. 

He leans down and kisses you, lips hard against yours as his hips roll into you. His rhythm starts slow, pumping into you at a languid pace. Savoring the way you feel, the way your moans sound, and your naked chest feels pressed to his. 

His movements quicken, the snap of his hips growing louder as he juts into you. You pull away from his lips and dig your nails into his bicep. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes focused on where your bodies are connected. Watching the way your pussy sucks him in, clenches perfecting around his shaft, and the image of you draws him closer to the edge. 

Eddie pushes off the mattress, straightening your legs until they’re pressed against his torso, one foot resting on either side of his head. He has the perfect view of you; the bounce of your tits as he ruts into you, the way your mouth hangs open, and your eyes are entirely focused on him. 

He pounds his dick into you, one hand moving between your legs and drawing circles against your bud. 

“Eddie, ahh, oh fuck-” you grip his forearm as he continues to thrust every inch of his cock in and out of your sensitive cunt. 

“You like that, baby?” and you nod.

“Say it,” he groans, hips stuttering as he nears his pinnacle. 

“Feel so good, Eddie,” you moan, and the way you say his name makes him clench his jaw. Trying his best to maintain composure until you come.

“Going to come for me, sweetheart?” and it sounds like a demand. Your nails dig into his skin as you nod. 

Your eyes trace down his body, watching the movement of his hips and the way your ass reverberates with each movement. The image of him, the erotic sound of skin on skin, bringing you closer.

“Please,” you beg, back arching off the bed as you get closer. The rubber band at your center stretching thin and ready to snap.

Your legs fall from his shoulders and hook around his waist, pulling him closer. Deeper. Exactly where you need him. The tip of his cock nudges your spongy center, the orgasm building with each rock of his hips until it’s enough.

His name is on your lips like a prayer, vision white as the intensity of the orgasm pulses through you. 

“Baby,” he groans, the grip your pussy has on him causing his hips to stutter and the muscles in his abdomen to tighten as he reaches his peak. His hands grip your thighs, his dick twitching inside you as he spills into the condom.

You come down for your orgasm and watch him through hooded eyes—the flush of his pale skin, the sharp edge of his jaw.

So fucking pretty.

He releases his grip on your thighs and slowly inches out of you. 

You whine at the loss, already needy for more, and he gives you a cocky smirk. Eddie presses a quick kiss to your lips before disappearing down the hall, and you listen as the faucet squeaks, then off before he returns. 

He approaches you with a warm washcloth, and wipes your center before discarding it into your nearby hamper. 

You pull him forward, resting his weight against your body. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. The only sound filling the room is your heavy breaths and the faint thrums of your hearts. 

“That was-,” and he can’t finish the sentence. Unable to find the right string of words.

Eddie pushes his weight off you, balancing on his hands and meeting your gaze. He leans closer, his nose tracing yours, and he kisses you softly—a hum vibrating against your lips when he releases your mouth.

“Decent,” you shrug and roll your eyes affectionately. Falling into your usual teasing.

“That was some of my best work, babe,” he gasps, feigning shock. Hand to his chest as he stands straight. 

Your heart skips at the nickname, but you try to hide it. Babe. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me again,” you shrug and push yourself further onto the bed. 

Eddie raises a devious brow and follows your movements, his body inching forward as yours inches back. 

“I can show you again,” he kisses you, “and again,” he kisses you once more, “as many times as it takes to convince you,” he promises.

[pinkberrytea]

He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.

Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.

Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: I can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! I wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully I did it justice. thank you for reading!

tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia

“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.

Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.

Astarion.

Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.

“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”

The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.

“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”

Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike. 

Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses. 

“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.

Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds. 

Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit. 

“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims. 

“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying. 

While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth waxen skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable. 

“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.

“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest. 

“This is a gift, you know.”

He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.

[luvf4ngz]

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly. 

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention. 

 "You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed. 

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him. 

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was. 

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.” 

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?” 

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention. 

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice." 

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied. 

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now. 

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle. 

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen. 

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch. 

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event. 

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things. 

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned. 

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?” 

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance. 

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest. 

This was a much better use of his time. 

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast. 

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands. 

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page. 

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you. 

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.” 

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?” 

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body. 

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.” 

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this. 

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!” 

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand. 

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.” 

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” 

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes. 

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm. 

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist. 

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming. 

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher. 

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping. 

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out. 

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter. 

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you. 

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation. 

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one. 

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly,  and he never wants to stop hearing your voice. 

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?” 

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body. 

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you. 

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed. 

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame. 

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins. 

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud. 

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face. 

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub. 

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could. 

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths. 

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason. 

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him. 

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you. 

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard. 

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him. 

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you. 

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break. 

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue. 

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins. 

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia. 

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew. 

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in. 

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole. 

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore. 

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small. 

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his. 

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips. 

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh. 

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again. 

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt. 

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms. 

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over. 

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat. 

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask. 

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”  

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers. 

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language. 

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting. 

He’s…. big. 

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance. 

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists. 

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter. 

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again. 

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother. 

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside. 

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos. 

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him. 

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.” 

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble. 

“Isn’t it?” He grins. 

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock. 

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come. 

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body. 

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust. 

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat. 

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls. 

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once. 

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp. 

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder. 

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”  

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.” 

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath.��

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred. 

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him. 

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly. 

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

[aethelwyneleigh27]

A little something of Simon Riley x Bookworm!Reader

A/n: Did you guys miss this format? So do I, hope you guys are doing well because I would not wish my suffering on my worst enemy, for the first time in a while, school makes me want to self exit. These days have been the busiest for me and I doubt that it will get better from here. I'm just exhausted from life but never from you guys <3

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

My CoD Masterlist <3

My Simon "Ghost" Riley Playlist <3

Simon Riley who absolutely adores your reactions when you read, a little bored on a lazy day in bed with him with your reading material in hand. The way you squeal and wiggle your feet made him want to peek onto what you were reading but he didn't need to, the moment you notice him curiously trail on you when you've finished a chapter or a moment you can't help but rant about.

Simon Riley who absolutely adores the way you get passionate about romantic stories, sometimes it motivates him to get a little creative with date ideas although you insist that simple dates are just fine.

Simon Riley who loves sneaking up behind you to peek at what you're reading, to see if you hide it while all flustered or if you bolt so he could playfully chase and pin you down.

Simon Riley who actually picks up an interest in reading because of you, he loved the idea that he's able to be more connected to you, having heated sessions of ranting together, dissing on annoying characters and such.

Simon Riley who was thankful you for introducing him to audiobooks, he was usually busy with some of the repairing and some maintenance of your shared home whenever he comes home after months. It gives him time to catch up while doing something productive so you can have your book review sessions.

Simon Riley who likes it when you look for him in the house after he went to do chores while you immerse yourself in another world. The sound of his name being called over and over by you is the best to him, sometimes waiting for you to say his name a little more before responding.

Simon Riley who builds you your very own bookshelf at your third anniversary, he went through the effort of finding a wood color that he knew you'd like and crafted the intricate bookshelf with a matching ladder that had wheels at the bottom so you could slide down like belle in that scene from beauty and the beast.

Simon Riley who gifts you reading material that you told him you were dying to read, your birthdays and other special occasions, even merch of hyper fixations you have, the same ones you use to decorate the bookshelf he made.

Simon Riley who likes to experiment in the bedroom based on what you've noted and annotated scenes on the spicy romance novels you've kept. He does it in his absolute spare time, sometimes when you aren't home, he likes to see what turns you on, so you'll come home to a surprise.

[cozykali]

Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHANGBIN X READER X SEUNGMIN ☾ ━━━ PROMPTS: "I just wanna feel something" + "you look so good with my hand around your neck" ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: FEM! READER, CASUAL DRINKING (nothing heavy; don't drink and do it), TEASING, BITING, KISSING, ORAL (F+M REC), BREATH PLAY (choking), FINGERING, SLIGHT EXHIBITIONISM, MEAN DOM!SEUNGMIN, SUB!READER, DOM!CHANGBIN, THREESOME, PET NAMES, DIRTY TALK, UNPROTECTED SEX (wrap it before you tap it), ROUGH SEX, PORN W/ (kinda) PLT, SPIT ROAST, CUM SHOT (1), ALLUDE TO AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.8K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     "Are you two staying in tonight?" (Y/n) asked her two friends over the phone. She had called Seungmin while getting ready to go out with some of her other friends. Changbin had shown up in the middle of the call. And of course, as she was about to leave to finish getting ready, her other friends texted and just told her not to come.

     "You just got canceled on?" Changbin asked

     "I wish. They just straight up told me not to come." (Y/n) answered

     “Gross. You should drop them." Seungmin suggested

     "Can I just come over and drink with you guys?"

     "I'll come to pick you up," Changbin announced

     "Thanks, Binnie."

     "You know I'm right. They've been singling you out for the past couple of months. You should drop them." Seungmin stated

     "Yeah. I don't know why though. I haven't done shit to them." (Y/n) sighed 

     "So you wanna drown you're dying friendship with alcohol?"

     "Honestly, I’d rather get drunk with you and Bin than them."

     "Why though?"

     "I just want to feel something."

     "There are other things to feel other than black-out drunk."

     "I'm not gonna get blackout. You both are gonna end up cutting me off.”

     “You tend to do stupid things when you’re drunk.”

     “And you never fail to remind me, Min.”

     “What are friends for.” (Y/n) could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone as she got a text from the other one that he was at her place.

     “I’ll see you in a bit, Min.” (Y/n) hung up on her friend and went to grab her shoes and house keys.

     She was a little grateful that her friends canceled before she got changed out of her house clothes. She shuffled her way down to Changbin's car and hopped in the passenger seat.

     “Ready?” he asked as he took the car out of park

     “Yes sir.”

     Changbin smiled at her as they took the short drive back to his and Seungmins' place while (Y/n) started out the window. He kept his playlist going so the drive wasn’t so silent.

     Soon the two got into the apartment and saw Seungmin sitting on the couch playing on his phone. (Y/n) kicked off her shoes before going and laying on top of him. Seungmin whined as she laid on him while Changbin laughed at his two friends.

     “Why are you like,” Seungmin questioned

     “Because you love me,” (Y/n) beamed as she got up and walked to their kitchen for a drink, not knowing she left a slightly blushing Seungmin on the couch.

     The three sat on the couch drinking and watching whatever looked interesting. Changbin ordered a pizza for the three of them so they weren't all drinking on an empty stomach. It was all going pretty well till (Y/n)'s phone went off.

     "Who is it?" Bin asked as she looked at the screen

     "Friends," (Y/n) replied

     "Ignore them," Seungmin stated, getting up from the couch and walking off down the hall, probably to use the bathroom.

     "Fuck off," (Y/n) sighed as she opened the message, only seeing them saying how much fun they were having at whatever random club they decided to go to.

     "Nope," Changbin grabbed her phone.

     "Bin!" (Y/n) said as they lunged toward him to grab her phone, only for him to hold it further away.

     "No more talking to them for the rest of the night. They're just trying to make you mad."

     "I have every right to be mad at them!"

     "You can be mad at them tomorrow," Bin held her back from lunging further until she backed down, "Thank you."

     Bin set her phone down next to his on the armrest of the couch. A second later, she lunged across him to grab it. "Hey!” the male exclaimed as he grabbed her arm to stop them.

     The two went back and forth for the phone till Changbin got her pinned down on the couch, straddling her as one hand held her wrists together above her head.

     “No talking to them,” Bin scolded her

     “Fine,” (Y/n) agreed and her friend got off her, helping her sit up.

     “Come here.” Changbin pulled her to his side and wrapped his arms around her. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around him and accepted the comfort

     “I leave for five minutes and you guys are cuddling?” Seungmin asked as he jumped back onto the couch

     “Bite me,” (Y/n) told him as he laid his head on her lap

     “Okay,” he smiled and slightly turned his head and bit her thigh

     “Owe! Min what the fuck!” (Y/n) yelled

     “You said to bite you, so I did.” he was so proud of himself for that, “Should I kiss it better?”

     Before she could even answer, he kissed the spot he had bit. (Y/n) squirmed slightly at the contact. Both her friends noticed it.

     “Hey Bin, (Y/n) said earlier they wanted the feel something.”

     “Really?” (Y/n) blushed heavily under both their gazes. Changbin noticed the tips of her ears turning red and leaned towards her and kissed one, letting the kiss trail to her jaw. “What do you wanna feel baby?”

     “Don’t know…” (Y/n) squeaked as Changbin pulled her up onto his lap whilst he turned their bodies so they were facing Seungmin.

     “You want me and Minnie to make you feel good? Make you forget about your other friends?” Changbin growled in her ear as his hands gripped her sides while Seungmin pushed his body between their legs and looked up at his two friends.

     (Y/n) nodded her head to the questions. “Words pup,” Seungmin stated

     “Yes,” (Y/n) meekly replied

     “Louder.” the man in her lap stated

     “Yes,” (Y/n) replied louder.

     “Don’t tease her too much,” Bin warned the younger one as his hands pushed up her shirt.

     “But it's so fun,” Seungmin smiled as he kissed the exposed skin above the waistband of her pants. Changbin pressed kisses along her neck as his hands slipped under her shirt, sliding his hands up till he found their breasts, needing them in his hands, “Didn’t wear a bra for us, baby?”

     (Y/n) nodded in response as Seungmin pulled her pants down enough to expose her thighs. His lips attached to her skin as he finished pulling the fabric off her legs. The contact from his lips made her squirm a bit more on Changbin’s lap. The man behind them groaned as she shifted, teeth slightly grazing her neck. 

     (Y/n) could feel Changbin’s cock getting harder the more she moved on his lap due to Seungmin’s teasing kisses on their thighs and his ghost kisses over their clothed core. Changbin grabbed her hips and kept her from moving too much. “Can’t keep still pup?” Seungmin teased

     “Think she needs a little more Minnie,” Changbin added

     “Yeah? Poor thing.” Seungmin replied with a smirk. He had noticed the wet spot forming on her panties. Changbin turned her upper body slightly more towards him then removed one hand from her hips to turn her head towards him and place his lips on her. Both moaned a little into the kiss and Changbin slipped his tongue into her mouth. Seungmin watched from below as his two friends made out, grinding his own growing hard-on into their couch cushions.

     He slipped his fingers inside the side of her wet panties pulled them down her legs and let them join her pants somewhere on the floor. Changbin moved his hands down to grab her thighs and spread her legs for his friend. Seungmin smiled and pressed a kiss onto her clit. (Y/n) rolled her hips slightly at the contact and moaned into the kiss she was sharing with the other. His tongue licked a long strip along her folds while Changbin kept her lips busy. 

     “Fuck,” (Y/n) groaned against Changbins lips as she felt his tongue flick her clit.

     “Gonna watch Minnie eat that pretty pussy?” Changbin pulled away from the kiss and let go of one of her thighs, placing it over Seungmin’s shoulder, turning her head to make her watch him eat her out. 

     Seungmins lips wrapped around her clit and lightly sucked on the bud; every so often letting his tongue flick it while her head fell back. Changbin noticed her head falling back and moved his hand to wrap around her throat, not hard but enough to make her gasp. “Keep you’re head up baby.”

     (Y/n) involuntary clenched when he whispered in her ear with his hand wrapped around her throat. “Think she likes that Bin,” Seungmin commented as he pulled away from her clit for a second to comment.

     “You like when we get rough with you baby?”

     “Yes,” (Y/n) nodded

     Seungmins moved lower and pushed his tongue into her. (Y/n) arched away from Changbin’s chest only for him to pull her back and tighten his grip on her throat slightly. “You look so good with my hand around your neck,” Changbin whispered in her ear. His other hand had moved off her thigh and started making small circles around her clit. 

     All the stimulation she was getting made it impossible for her not to come. Her lower body shook as she released into Seungmin’s mouth. The hand around her throat kept her from moaning too loud so the two boys wouldn't get any noise complaints from their neighbors. Changbin removed his hand from her neck and kissed her temple while both his hands came up and rubbed her sides while Seungmin drank up her release.

     (Y/n) slowly caught her breath as they coaxed her through her first orgasm. Seugnmin pulled his face away from her cunt and pushed her shirt up over her breasts as he kissed all along her stomach, leaving a couple of love bits.

     “How are you feeling now baby?” Changbin asked 

     “Good,” (Y/n) replied, still trying to get air back in her lungs.

     The three heard a knock at the door, and only (Y/n) froze while the two men continued. “Stretch her out for me, Min,” Changbin said before he moved her off his lap and laid her back on the couch.

     “You’re gonna need to be quiet pup. Unless you want that poor delivery guy to know you’re getting fucked good by your best friends,” Seungmin whispered stated as Changbin walked around the corner. Two of Seungmin’s long fingers slid between her folds collecting her slick before he pushed both digits into her. (Y/n) bit her lip as she listened to Changbin greet the pizza delivery guy.

     Seungmin didn’t make it easy for her to stay quiet. His fingers scissored her open as his lips wrapped around one of her nipples. She was already sensitive from the orgasm he and Changbin had given her moments ago and his fingers didn’t make it any better. She desperately wanted to scream but couldn’t. Rather she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. 

     Seungmin’s tongue flicked against her nipple before he lightly pulled on it with his teeth before releasing it and looking up at her. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her trying to keep quiet. He heard the front door close and caught a glimpse of Changbin walking toward the kitchen with the pizza. (Y/n) was too caught up in pleasure to hear the door close while her legs tried to close around his body. 

     He used his free hand to grab her hands and pin them down on the armrest of the couch as he inserted a third finger into her. “Fuck Min,”(Y/n) moaned a little too loud. Not that it mattered but she didn't need to know that. 

     “What I say about being quiet, pup.” It wasn't a question honestly. He just wanted a reason to tease her. He stopped his motion of pumping into her. 

     “‘M sorry Minnie,” (Y/n) whined as she rolled her hips against his hand

     “Are you?” he asked slowly sliding his fingers out

     “I’m sorry Minnie. I’ll be quiet,” (Y/n) frantically replied 

     “Is Minnie being mean to you?” Changbin asked as he came back over to the couch, standing to the side of her

     (Y/n) nodded as she looked at the other male. Seungmin quickly pushed his fingers back into her while she was distracted by Changbin. Both smiled at her while her mouth hung open from the sudden motion. Changbin took the chance to pull his hard cock out of his sweats and pumped himself a few times.

     “Tongue out baby,” Changbin stated. 

     (Y/n) stuck her tongue out for him as he placed the tip of his dick out it, rubbing the precum on the muscle before he pushed into her mouth. His hand went under her head, holding her up a bit as he slowly fucked her face. 

     “Get it nice and wet for yourself baby,” Changbin groaned while her tongue ran along the underside of his cock. 

     (Y/n) moaned as Seungmin fingered her faster which made Changbin pick up his pace. She clenched around the younger one's fingers before he pulled them out. (Y/n) groaned at the loss of his fingers before Changbin pulled himself from her mouth. Neither man said anything as they pulled her off her back. 

     Changbin got behind her as he discarded his clothing while Seungmin sat back against the other arm of the sofa and discarded the shirt he had pushed over her chest earlier before pulling her in for a kiss, one hand holding the nape of her neck. (Y/n) moaned into the kiss as she placed her hands next to his body, effectively putting her on all fours. She felt Changbin grab her hips and pull her back a bit. The tip of his dick slid between her folds a couple of times before he slowly pushed into her.

     “Oh fuck,” (Y/n) gasped against her friends’ lips. 

     “Binnie’s dick feel good in you?” Seungmin questioned as he pulled away from their kiss

     “Feel so good,” (Y/n) replied as Changbin started roughly thrusting into her from behind, her ass bouncing off his hips.

     “Poor pups already starting to get cock drunk,” Seungmin practically laughed. The three of them had just started drinking so alcohol wasn’t playing such a big role in what was happening, more just relaxed them all a bit.

     Changbin smiled to himself as he picked up his thrusting pace, moving his hands to grip her waist. (Y/n) dropped her head as Changbin’s bruising grip pulled her back to him. Seungmin took the chance to remove his bottoms and let his hard-on out. (Y/n) bent down to take him into her mouth while giving Changbin a new angle to hit deeper in her.

     Seungmin threw his head back as she ran her tongue along his cock head, one hand pumping his shaft before sliding him down her throat. “Such a good girl for us, aren’t ya?” the question was rhetorical but (Y/n) still hummed around Seungmin’s dick in response while also clenching at his praise.

     Both men groaned at the two different feelings. Changbin snuck and hand around her body and played with her clit again. Her moans would’ve been louder if it weren’t for the cock shoved down her throat. She bobbed her on Seungmin’s as she brought her other hand between his legs to play with his balls, making him whimper at the feeling.

      Her head bobbing got sloppy the more Changbin toyed with her clit making Seungmin grab the back of her head and start fucking up into her mouth. Her legs were starting to shake again as she clenched around the cock inside her, hips slightly bucking against his fingers before she came on his cock. Changbins hand left her clit and joined his other on her waist as he and Seungmin chased their highs. 

      Seungmin let his load go in her mouth and pushed her head all the way down as his cum shot into her. Changbin gave himself a few more thrusts in her before pulling out and jacking off till his cum shot out onto her lower back. (Y/n) pulled herself on Seungmin’s cock and swallowed his cum.

     Changbin got up from the couch and walked off to go grab stuff to clean while Seungmin pulled his friend— if they could even still call themselves that after what had just happened— into a softer kiss as he rubbed her sides. (Y/n) sighed in contentment before he pulled away.

     “See, better things to feel than black-out drunk,” he smiled

     “Yeah. Who knew a threesome with my two attractive best friends is what I needed,” (Y/n) smiled back as Changbin came back and cleaned his cum off her back before kissing her shoulder.

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[totaly-obsessed]

would you be willing to write either an alessia x reader or a leah x reader who has ADHD? i loved your alexia piece. it made me feel super seen ❤️

Fitting In

Alessia Russo x reader request

-> A struggle day with Alessia - ADHD!Reader

-> @anon Makes me so happy to hear that you felt seen! These are things that actually happen in my day to day life - and adhd presents so different in people, please don't be offended if this doesnt fit you!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Baby?” Alessia's shout echoed through your shared home – the blonde had just come home from practice and was excited to spend a nice, relaxing evening with her girlfriend. But just a couple of seconds later she could see that the rest of the day would be a bit more chaotic than she had originally thought.

“Where are you?” Win, the Arsenal dog whined quietly booping her nose on Alessia's shin, trying to get her attention. With a sigh the striker took off the collar, letting the chocolate lab loose – just to see her race to the living room carpet where she dramatically flopped down with a loud huff.

“Bedroom!” Carefully Alessia opened the door, she never quite knew what to expect behind closed doors when it came to you. Maybe you would be dying your hair, trying her clothes on, or simply staring into the abyss. While she had been preparing herself for the worst, seeing you re-arrange furniture wasn’t so bad.

“Hi, Lessi!” The footballer did her best to ignore the heavy desk you were pushing around, instead giving you a kiss, melting at your huge grin and sparkling eyes.

“You’ve been quite busy huh?” You have been. The Wardrobe had been replaced by the bed and the bed with the desk – or at least your girlfriend guessed that you wanted it to go there.

“Help me?” She didn’t need much convincing, but the sheepish smile on your face certainly did the job.

With a gentle push, you were removed from the desk, as Alessia couldn’t watch your struggle any longer. With just a few expert nudges and lifts it was where you wanted it to be, with you directing the blonde.

“Done!” She brushed off her hands as if she were brushing off dirt from hard labor. With a smug smile, she saw you stare, particularly at her arms (still wearing her Arsenal training tank top), before she pulled you into a bruising kiss – large hands resting on your hips, fingers digging into your bum.

“Did you get groceries amore?” Oh right. There had been a reason why you had wandered in here, you originally had planned to get dressed and go shopping but all of a sudden you just felt an incredible urge to re-arrange the furniture. “Sorry, Lessi.”

With a soft chuckle, Alessia kissed your forehead, she knew that you didn’t do it on purpose, you never did. You just were forgetful. “How about we go out to eat?” That was the most brilliant idea you have ever had. Usually, you would order in because Alessia was too tired from training to actually go out – so it was a nice change. “That sounds fantastic baby. But it’s gonna be noisy and busy, you okay with that?” Your excited nodding was enough to melt her heart all over again. Bless you, so excited to go out with your girlfriend.

“I’m gonna have a shower, yeah?” You didn’t really realize what Alessia said until you heard the water running. “No Lessi!” As fast as you could you made your way to the bathroom, your girlfriend still in front of the mirror taking off her makeup. “Can I have it first? I’ll literally be ten minutes!” With one or two bats of your lashes, the blonde agreed, leaving you in the bathroom.

“Hey, google – play shower list! No, play Date playlist!” You had to repeat yourself, your Alexa was too confused with your wishes. The water was still running as you took Alessia's place, looking at yourself in the mirror. “Should I wash my hair? But I washed it yesterday – Shit. I didn’t do that washing did I?” There was no one to answer you, you were talking to yourself. On your way to the laundry room you nearly tripped over Win. “Winnie! You’re here! Oh, I love you so much!”

“Amore?”

No answer.

“Amore?”

With Win in tow, you climbed back up the stairs, already seeing Alessia with a big goofy smile in the bathroom. “Shit. I left the shower on.” The dog excitedly yapped once she saw the familiar blonde, her tail hitting your leg. “Yes, you did.” She wasn’t mad – she was laughing, and she had shut the water off. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry Less. Promise I’ll go now.”

“You haven’t had it yet?” Win was once again whining for attention but stopped once you leaned down to pet her head. “No, I want downstairs and I was doing the washing because I forgot to do it earlier.” By now you had eventually taken off your socks and outer layer, just in your underwear now.

“I just need to get my skincare stuff.” Why it was in the kitchen you didn’t really remember, however halfway down the stairs, you remembered the disgustingly cold showers. “Need the shower to warm up first!” Up you went again.

Now with your skincare, water warming up, the right music, and the laundry on – you were ready to actually get in, until you weren’t. Your sister had sent you a TikTok, which left you to doom scroll for a while before Alessia eventually came back up. “Are you done amore?”

She knew that you hadn’t been in yet, the half-Italian always knew when you were having a hard day, and today was one of them.

“I don’t know if I want to shower yet.” Your girlfriend could see the frustration building up in you, so she pulled you in a hug. “That’s okay baby. Can I go?” The defeated look on your face was all she needed, cooing over your sad little face before shoving you out the door after calling Win to keep you company.

Whilst the footballer was in the shower, you had tasked yourself with picking outfits for the both of you. Picking Alessia’s was easy, not only did she look good in everything, but all her clothes matched, so there was no bad choice.

When the blonde entered the bedroom she couldn’t help but laugh at you standing in front of the full-body mirror, wearing a cropped puffer jacket you had bought last week. Your lips in a pout and cheeks red in frustration – something was wrong.

“You okay baby?”

Boom, tears. Knowing that Alessia knew you and all your little signs meant the world to you. “I hate this jacket.”

“But you just bought it last week, what’s wrong with it?” by now she was standing in front of you, opening it up, closing it again, turning you around to get a better look, trying to figure out what is bothering you. “It’s the sleeves, look.” You thrust your hands out, the sleeves rising up so that your wrists were out.

“Maybe it’s the hood?” Your girlfriend pulled the zipper on the detachable hood, taking it off and abruptly throwing the hood itself on Win’s head. “What do you think? I think you look great!” You had to admit, that it was better, but the sleeve situation was still bothering you. “Nuh-uh. Wanna get rid of it.” With a final nod, Alessia helped you take it off, throwing the jacket on a pile of clothes. “Ella was looking for one of those.” That was that. Ella would get the jacket.

In the end, Alessia chose your outfit, as you were much too busy playing with Win, who was pawing at you when you had flopped down next to her on the carpet.

Whilst you were getting ready Alessia grabbed the rest of your stuff – that you would definitely forget and run back in and out again until you have everything, like your wallet or lip balm.

As soon as you entered the restaurant you regretted it. There was so much going on and such a wave of noise that greeted you that you nearly just walked back out again – but your girlfriend had already picked out a table in a corner.

“Less I don’t know what to get – I’m like overwhelmed by the options.” Somewhere a child started screaming and a hoard of adults kept laughing at it very loudly. “It’s like I can’t read the words that are literally right in front of me."

It started to beep everywhere in the big room. You had picked a popular restaurant in the area that had pagers that vibrated, blinked, and beeped when your food was ready so you could go and get it.

“What do you feel like amore?” You were zoned out, eyes empty staring at the menu, dead to the world around you. Alessia sighed, she knew that this would happen. “How about Pasta?” You nodded, she knew which one you would like.

A couple of minutes later your girlfriend came back, with one of these little devices in her hand, placing it under her thigh on the stool, desperately trying to soften the glaring noise.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and a birthday song was played loudly over the speakers. As well as you could you held your ears closed as most guests started to sing and clap along. Just as the song ended your food was ready and Alessia went to go and get it.

“How was training Less?” She could see your head swiveling around, overwhelmed by the lights, the noise, and the people – nonetheless, she took your bait, explaining what had happened at the Arsenal training center, appreciating that you tried to listen, and even asked questions.

Ten minutes into eating a children's birthday party sat down at the table next to yours, and as cute as the kids were – they were even louder than your thoughts. Screaming over the top of each other, begging for Ice cream for dinner and even yelling at the poor elders on their other side, trying to show them something.

“Amore? Are you overstimulated? Would you like to get this to go, and just go home?”

“Yes please.”

Alessia went up to the register with your plates, while you packed up all your stuff, grabbing your jackets and Alessia’s little bag that really only held her car keys.

In the car, you couldn’t hold it anymore, and the tears just burst out of you in streams that seemed never-ending. “I-I’m sorry Lessi, jus wanted to be like everyone else but I can't even sit in a restaurant.”. Your girlfriend cooed at you, gently stroking your thigh trying to calm you down a little. “We don’t need to be like anybody else. We can just be… Us!”

The rest of the evening was spent cuddled up on the couch with Win occupying one of the ends, stealing a blanket off of you, as Alessia covered you in hers as well. The wood was still warm when you ate it, even after changing out of the uncomfortable outfits and into big shirts and joggers.

“I love you amore. For you – you don’t need to be like anybody else.”

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (14)

ー☆ Chapter 14: Follow You

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: none ー☆ Word count: 7.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! And the last actual chapter is here (as I still have an epilogue ready for you all), I can't believe we're wrapping up LMLAR and that I have to let go of the characters I have created for this story. I can't lie, I might have become really attached to Mingi in this story because I accidentally portrayed in him my ideal type, but what's new? I somehow always manage to hurt myself when I write with Mingi lol (ig that's the burden I have to carry if I write a story with my bias lol) I will be going on a holiday for possibly two weeks, so that means I won't be able to write nor update for two weeks (which sounds horrible and I'm already dying over it, but I hope I'll manage to find time to still write even if a little). Now, don't worry too much about the epilogue and I ask you to read the note at the end of this chapter attentively! ;) For once, I am asking you all to listen to Follow You after you've finished the chapter and not before or during it! I'm curious if the lyrics will be familiar hehe. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know through feedback <3 divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Being here with him, doing this with him had no business being so nerve-wracking. This was Mingi, the guy I hated at first—did I?—and then found a friend in and—well, now found something more in him—wanted more from him. But the flutter of my heart and my stomach twisting despite still feeling somewhat calm, reminded me that no matter that I was with Mingi, this was a completely new setting for us. Yes, it was just the two of us going out and about, but at the same time, it was a date. Something we both discussed and agreed upon, leaving our houses with the purpose of going on this date, the two of us. And perhaps it wasn’t even me feeling nervous about going on a date with Mingi per se, but more the fact that I hadn’t done something like this in ages, which made me feel giddy about it. Like a child when they get the present they really wanted on Christmas Eve.

Mingi, like the true gentleman he was, had picked me up once we were both done with our classes for the day, the sun only half an hour away from setting. The sky had been coated in orange and pink hues as Mingi drove us to an unknown location, grinning from ear to ear as he talked about his day to fill the silence since his old Honda’s stereo had stopped working a few days ago. I didn’t mind that, not at all, if that meant I got to listen to his deep voice and excited tone as he told me about his professor asking about Outlaw and whether he was allowed to attend one of Noir Zenith’s performances. It seemed like word had gotten out lately about Mingi’s band, and even more people from our university were interested in watching them play, I feared soon Outlaw wouldn’t be enough to house the fans. The thought made me feel—made me feel proud and happy for him. Mingi deserved this, he was hard-working and diligent, and I wished him nothing but the best.

When I realized that Mingi was driving us to a rather high-end part of the city with tall and fancy buildings, I found myself more nervous about the surprise he had in mind for me. I didn’t exactly want to dine out in a super expensive restaurant—it really wasn’t my thing—but if this is what Mingi prepared for us, I wouldn’t mind. I knew I’d enjoy myself as long as he was by my side. But, thankfully, he veered us away from the main street and drove down a few narrower ones, buildings nestled together and looking cozier than ever. Graffiti and murals covered every second bricked wall, and I watched curiously as Mingi pulled over and parked the car at the side of the road, in front of a black building, smaller than the ones in the area but a lot more modern and fancier looking. It was dark inside and looked unlived in, but I didn’t question him when he just grinned and grabbed a blanket and basket out of the backseat, then grabbed my hand and guided me towards its front door.

He had fumbled with the key for a second and I snickered at him as he flushed, but then we were inside and I watched in awe the high windows, the place vacant of anything. It was dark, now with the sun setting as well, and I noticed that quite a few lightbulbs were still missing, but Mingi grabbed my hand and walked us towards the end of the hallway.

“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” I asked quietly, as if afraid someone would hear us. The place was unfurnished still and Mingi hummed as I noticed light coming from a room whose archway was covered by a black blanket so that you couldn’t see inside. I had paused and looked at Mingi questioningly as he chewed on his bottom lip, then released my hand and yanked the blanket down. My eyes widened at the scenery inside, completely taken aback by the fairy lights strung above and the fort which was built by three stands and a blanket dangled over them. Besides the fairy lights, there was a projector and the white wall was covered in the image of a forest, with a creek slowly flowing through, and the distant sound of birds chirping echoed around the room, it was quiet so as not to disturb any conversation.

My jaw was completely on the floor as I felt my heart race even faster, completely in awe at the view in front of me. I couldn’t believe someone would do something so sweet for me, and as I turned to look at Mingi, for the first time, he looked nervous. He smiled tentatively and I noticed his trembling fingers as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his tall nose, and then without thinking, I threw myself in his arms, hugging his torso tightly as I gnawed on my bottom lip, embarrassed by the sudden tears in my eyes as I buried my head in his chest. Mingi made a surprised noise in the back of his throat but didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, and I had to gulp multiple times to try and get rid of the lump in my throat. Nobody has ever done something this nice for me. It was thoughtful, there was effort put into it, and I knew Mingi did this all by himself.

“So, based on your reaction, I assume you like this?” He didn’t sound smug or playful, he sounded genuinely curious, and for a second, I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to even think of ruining a relationship with someone this precious.

“I love it, Mingi.” I whispered into his chest, the softener of his clothes carrying a flowery scent that mingled with his cologne that I was familiar with by now. It felt safe, it felt warm, and Mingi was comforting to be around.

“Oh, that’s good.” He heaved a sigh and I finally managed to get rid of the tears as I pulled my head back to look up at him, his cheeks were flushed a deep red, a great contrast against his tanned skin and platinum hair, “I was scared you’d hate it, but Wooyoung told me to trust my gut, so I did.”

I smiled and released him, stepping back to offer him space so that he could proceed with his plans. He beckoned me further inside the warm room, towards the fort as he laid the blanket out on a mattress for us, placing the picnic basket next to it, “If the weather would’ve allowed it, I would’ve loved taking you down to the creek for a little picnic under the warm sun, but autumn and winter suck, so I had to get creative.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything less from you.” I chuckled as I had walked towards him, shrugging off my long coat. Mingi followed suit and I took my time to take in his attire, loose black jeans held onto his narrow hips by a thick belt, a beige sweater tucked in slightly at the front, and a black denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. His wrists were decorated with beaded bracelets, the rings toned down as he only had three on his left and one on his right hand, three necklaces dangling at different lengths around his neck. His nails were bare today, void of the familiar black tint. And, without meaning to, it seemed like we wore matching outfits for our date. I wore black jeans which was loose at the knees paired with a black off-shoulder long-sleeved blouse and a beige sweater with holes over it. I didn’t want to comment on my observations as Mingi settled on the mattress with a grin, patting the spot next to him, “What’s this place though? Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

Mingi chuckled as he opened the basket, pulling out the thermos I had brought the hot chocolate in for him days ago, and then he grabbed two mugs, “I pulled some strings for us to be here, but we’re not trespassing, so don’t worry.”

“Who owns this building?” I asked curiously as I watched Mingi pour hot chocolate into the mugs.

“Well, last I heard Hongjoong bought it, so…” My eyes widened as I had taken the mug from Mingi, curious to know more, “This building will be Seonghwa’s art studio. He wishes to launch a brand soon, and Hongjoong thought it would be best if Seonghwa has his own office, or studio as Hwa likes to call it. I think he wants to turn the front lobby into a smaller art gallery of sorts, you should talk to him and see whether he’s interested in displaying your paintings and drawings.”

I hummed, thrilled at the idea of having my own exposition one day, “I don’t think I have enough creations for him to display just yet, but I will keep it in mind.”

It’s my dream to be a well-known painter all around the world, to have to travel to display my art in various galleries, to have people interpret my works to their liking and imagination, and to be able to spread a message through my work. I love creating and I love sharing my deepest thoughts through whatever I put on a canvas, or in my sketchbook and, perhaps, I love it even more when someone else appreciates it and interprets it through their own lens, through their own experiences.

Being here with Mingi felt warm, it made me forget about every concern I had prior, completely disregarding my nervous state as I now found myself comfortable sitting beside him and sipping on our hot chocolate, snacking from time to time on popcorn and whatever salty snack Mingi had prepared for us. The scenery through the projector never changed, and I found the chirping of the birds and the flow of the water as white noise rather relaxing. If I closed my eyes, I could easily picture myself with Mingi by the creek, the two of us sitting on a blanket in the green grass, the warm sun beaming down on us as we laughed and talked about whatever came to mind. It seemed like time passed by like a slug when in reality, it was flying away way too fast, but neither one of us cared. Wooyoung and Seulgi knew we were on a date—and since this building was Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s, they probably knew we were here too—and I had told my mother earlier today that I was going out with Mingi. There was no point hiding anything from her anymore, and she was beyond excited to hear the news. She had a night shift today, but she promised to pester me at breakfast about every single detail tomorrow, swearing she wouldn’t go to sleep until we had the chance to talk. And when she put her mind to something, I knew she would follow through with it.

Mingi and I had been talking non-stop since the whole fiasco in his studio—through texts, phone calls, or in person—and I found myself craving to be around him more and more. Surprising even myself, I bought pastries just the other day before going to my first class, and knowing Mingi would be in his studio, I surprised him with his favorite pastry before I was off to class, not wanting to bother him anymore. It also didn’t come as much of a surprise when he and Wooyoung sat with me and Seulgi at lunch, Mingi huddled up close to me as he wouldn’t stop nagging me about eating more, giving me half of his portion despite me not being able to stomach it. In the end, he finished both of our lunches, and I couldn’t have been happier. Seulgi and Wooyoung didn’t comment much on our antics, but I knew Seulgi was dying to tease me. I knew I was in for it later in our art class, and I wasn’t wrong.

The tension I felt around Mingi—due to not being completely honest with him—had now completely disappeared and was, instead, replaced with a tingling feeling that made me giggle and flush any time I allowed my thoughts to stray towards him. Towards his tall build, his firm muscles, his deep and raspy voice that covered my skin in chills any time I listened to it, and his sharp eyes that could make anyone weak in the knees unless they were creased due to his wide smile. His long nose and crooked teeth and that wide smile that had my stomach doing weird flips, his throaty giggles and rarely flushed cheeks. His hands, which were always warm in contrast to his chunky silver rings, which, surprisingly, have become comforting whenever they dug into my skin, his thick fingers intertwined with mine. His cologne and scent, which had me craving more of him, his clothes tucked away securely in my closet—and if perhaps one of my hoodies’ started smelling like Mingi, nobody had to know that I would snuggle up in it before falling asleep. His arms, which always brought a wave of comfort with them and made me feel smaller than anyone has managed to make me feel before. His hands and nails which I would stare at and flush whenever Mingi noticed what I had been doing, and ultimately, his platinum blonde hair, a color that I started loving instead of hating so ardently. It suited him, it made him look unfairly handsome, it sharpened his high cheekbones and his well-defined jaw, gave his eyes more depth and sharpness, and yes, I loved the color, but I also missed his naturally black hair. It made him look softer, more like the Mingi he was on the inside, easily fooling others of his true personality.

A personality that was goofy and giddy, yet a personality that felt everything intensely and spoke boldly, expressing himself directly and never expecting anything besides fair treatment and the truth in return. Mingi was a sensitive soul who offered without asking anything back in return, and he was rewarded rightfully by those around him who appreciated and loved him. He was easily lovable and I found it harder each day that passed by to ignore the need to cherish and protect him. I didn’t think coming clean with my feelings would be such a liberating feeling, that it would make everything so much easier to accept, to mull over. I was scared, of course, I still was, but I felt hopeful. I knew Mingi well enough by now to know he’d never pressure me into anything I didn’t want, that he’d never make me feel uncomfortable, and that he’d always take it slow if that’s what I needed.

When our mindless chatter finally subsided, the two of us now laid on our backs, staring up at the moon Mingi had hung up in the fort—it felt serene. I knew we were nearing late evening by now, but I couldn’t find it in myself to actually care, to actually look at my phone to check the time. I didn’t even want to look at my wristwatch to see—I wished to stay in this moment with Mingi for as long as possible. We had eaten almost all the snacks he brought and the hot chocolate had been long gone now, all we did was enjoy each other’s company right now. With a finger fiddling with the holes in my sweater, I reached the pinkie of my other hand out until I could poke at Mingi’s hand. I didn’t look at him, but I could see from my peripheral that his eyes were closed. He hummed when I poked his pinkie again, and then, finally gave in as he hooked our pinkies together, sending my heart into a frenzy as I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t the first time we’d be holding hands—it did nothing to my poor flushed cheeks nor churning stomach, I was horrible at hiding how he made me feel.

“Can I ask you something?” Mingi’s voice was quiet as if not to disturb our peace. He sounded just a little bit hesitant, and I got a feeling of what our next subject would be about. I hummed and listened as he took a deep breath, then asked his question, “Do you hate Yunho?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I glanced at Mingi, his eyes were still closed, except that now he was gnawing on his lower lip nervously instead of looking at ease. I didn’t have to think much about his question, I don’t think I have ever felt such negative feelings against someone before, “No, I could never hate anyone, to be honest. However, I did resent him for a long time.”

“And now?” I could understand his curiosity and the need to know more about whatever was once between Yunho and me. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, I was rather thankful that we could openly discuss it. I know that if it bothered him, Mingi would’ve told me because that’s who he was. We didn’t hold secrets from each other, we spoke directly and honestly.

“I don’t feel anything,” I whispered with a small shrug, finding it weird how impartial I had become to Jeong Yunho. A few months ago I still couldn’t think of him without distaste, let alone talk about him without my stomach dropping and heart clenching. I still didn’t appreciate the way he’s treated me, of course, I didn’t, but I found it easy to let go, to not care anymore at all, “It’s been over five years that we dated, and I’ve been over him for a long time now.”

“But you couldn’t completely let go,” Mingi muttered and I had to gulp, not that surprised that he saw right through me.

“He was my first love, my first in everything so I—” I gulped, wondering whether this was uncomfortable or not for Mingi to discuss, but he intertwined our fingers and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I took a deep breath and slowly continued, “I was attached to him, people always say you’ll forever remember the first person you truly loved, and I think they are right. It’s a bittersweet memory, to be honest, but not something I feel locked down in anymore. Even the resentment I felt towards him now feels so distant like it happened ages ago and not months ago. It feels good and refreshing to have gotten rid of such consuming thoughts and emotions despite never saying it out loud. I hated myself for latching onto that last fraction of emotion I felt towards Yunho, thinking it would make his life as miserable as he made mine but in reality, I was only holding myself back and hurting myself furthermore.”

I turned my head to watch Mingi, to take in his expression, and I was surprised to see him smiling. He was gently rubbing his thumb over my skin, “Yunho’s parents got divorced around the time you two started dating, and his older brother moved to another country in order to pursue the career he’s always wanted, so Yunho had it hard. Between the two of us, he’s always been the stronger person, the brighter mind with never-ending hope, cheering me on and encouraging me to never back down if I had goals to reach. Even when I knew he was suffering due to his family’s situation, he wouldn’t let me comfort him, wouldn’t let me be his shoulder to cry on. He had a huge ego back then, refusing to show the cracks or admit that he was doing worse than ever, and I think he was abusing every relationship he had back at that time. He needed validation and love, he felt worthless and used after his parents didn’t even warn him of their split up, just showed him the documents and made him choose who he’d want to continue living with.

“His parents were good people but they handled some things in a shitty way, and it showed because Yunho lost himself in alcohol and meaningless relationships for a while. I’m not calling your relationship meaningless, because as much as I can remember, you were the only one who was able to tie him down for a longer period of time back then. It’s not you who wasn’t enough for Yunho, it’s him who wasn’t ready to commit and love others the right way. I warned him often to stop whatever he was doing, but he was addicted to the feeling and even hurt me in the process. I’m in no way invalidating your feelings and whatever you have gone through, I just hope you can forgive Yunho’s foolishness one day. He was just a kid trying to navigate his life as he lost his path for a short amount of time. I can guarantee he’s changed now, he’s better than he’s ever been before and he regrets everything he’s done. If you feel like it, I’m sure he would even reach out to you to apologize.”

Mingi’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he turned his face, and his eyes widened when he realized I had been looking at him the whole time, “I probably would’ve killed for this information back in highschool, it would’ve made things a lot less complicated for me if he was just honest and explained things before he left me. It wasn’t always easy growing up without a father, and despite never caring much about what others said, Yunho made me feel unworthy and undesirable and perhaps it’s that which hurt more and not even the fact that he left me. I knew relationships didn’t always last, but I didn’t expect him to be such a huge asshole.”

Mingi snickered and bit his lower lip as I rolled my eyes, trying to restrain the giggle that threatened to bubble through, “Yunho would be digging his own grave right now if he were to hear us, too embarrassed and ashamed of himself to even apologize.”

“Serves him right.” I couldn’t help but laugh and Mingi did the same, looking content and not bothered by the nature of our conversation. After all, it was him who was curious about it and I had nothing to hide from him anymore, “What about you? Any past girlfriends I have to look out for?”

My tone was teasing and Mingi instantly flushed, turning his head away as if that would’ve hidden it. His glasses were placed between us and he cleared his throat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Well, I wasn’t a heartthrob like my lovely best friend, so I didn’t date many girls.”

I raised my eyebrows, prompting Mingi to continue speaking as he sighed, “I dated a girl back in highschool for a few months, but I don’t know. She was nagging and I didn’t like the way she berated me whenever things didn’t go her way, so I broke up quickly with her. After that, I just wasn’t in the mood to date anyone. I was content with watching anime and reading my mangas and hanging out with Yunho.”

I grinned and pushed up onto my elbows, wiggling my eyebrows at Mingi when he quickly averted his eyes, “And in university? Come on, don’t be shy now, where’s the cocky and annoying Mingi I despised?”

“You were into it, don’t lie.” Mingi chuckled as I scoffed, but I couldn’t find myself to correct him. Maybe I was into it, but he didn’t have to know, his ego was big enough already. After a longer pause and a squeeze of his hand, he gave in and groaned, “Yeah, fine, I dated casually a few people but wasn’t into any of them much. I feel like nobody has ever seen past my looks or the fact that I have a band and sing, so I didn’t feel like being with someone who only wanted me for my looks and for the far-fetched idea that I’d become famous one day, subsequently making them famous too so that they could parade around saying their boyfriend is a rockstar.”

“It’s not a far-fetched idea, Mingi.” I muttered and he looked up at me again, looking hopeful, “It’s good to know, though, that I won’t have to fight any jealous exes in the near future.”

“It’s rather the exes I’d be worried about,” He snickered, and as I narrowed my eyes, a cheeky smile was back on his lips, “you are the jealous type, not them—”

“Now that’s simply not true.” I huffed and fell back, glaring up at the new moon Mingi had hung up in the fort, “I’m not the jealous type.”

“Are you not?” His voice dripped with tease and I rolled my eyes, “Because I’m pretty sure you don’t like Mina—”

“Who’s Mina?” I interrupted, eyebrows furrowing as I cast a glance his way.

“The blonde girl, my fan.” I gulped, suddenly feeling an unexplainable drop in my stomach and a scowl on my face as I turned my head further away so that Mingi couldn’t see it. Yeah, I simply couldn’t stand her. Mingi started laughing loudly and I huffed as I retracted my hand from his, crossing my arms in front of my chest. It only made him laugh harder, and soon I found myself grinning, his deep laugh infectious.

“I’m not jealous of her, though.” I tried to defend myself but it fell on deaf ears as Mingi continued snickering.

“I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Mingi chuckled at my scoff and then it was silent again as I felt my heart rate settle, Mingi’s breaths stable and loud in the fort. The sounds of nature alongside the projection of the creek would be able to lull me to sleep, but Mingi spoke up again before that could happen, “Remember when we were in the library all those months ago and I flipped through your sketchbook without permission?”

I hummed and gave him a pointed stare, making Mingi smile at me sheepishly, “Well, sorry about that, first of all, and secondly, there was a drawing of eyes which was scribbled over. That’s when you said those were Yunho’s but I’m pretty sure I can recognize my own eyes, doll—”

“Are you claiming again that I was drawing your eyes?” I raised my eyebrows and Mingi pursed his lips as he nodded, “I feel like we’ve had this discussion a million times before, Mings.”

Mingi chuckled and then shrugged, playing with the beads of his bracelet, “Yeah, but hearing you confirm it again would be nice.”

I sighed but gave in nonetheless, I would adhere to his wishes only today, “Yes, Mingi, my sketchbook is full of your eyes, of your face, of your body, of you performing on stage, of you sitting in your car—of you.”

I didn’t expect to see his face, even his ears, turn red in a second, eyes widening as his mouth fell open. For once I felt like I had the upper hand, that it finally wasn’t him making me feel flustered, and I smirked, raising an eyebrow at him teasingly. Mingi cleared his throat and patted at his cheeks, clearing his throat again as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering a bit before a sound actually came out, “Well, I—uh, I wasn’t expecting such honesty. Thank you? I mean, that’s really cool, thank you. I knew you were obsessed with me since the second you saw me.”

And that’s why I mostly kept to myself about stuff like this, I knew it would get to his head, “No, I couldn’t stand you the second I saw you. Then you turned out not to be such an idiot and too annoying, thankfully.”

Mingi chuckled and intertwined his hands as he placed them behind his head, kicking his legs out, “Well, I actually knew you before meeting you at Outlaw. Wooyoung told me about Seulgi, and then the next day he pointed her out in the hallway and you were there with her. And, uh, yeah.”

It was my turn to tease him as I turned my head and grinned at him, “Did little Mingi have a crush on me before he even got to know me?”

I shouldn’t have felt so pleased by his sudden flush or the way he avoided eye contact, “Yeah, I did.”

And apparently, I was worth sticking around for so long, pushing to get through to me, to make me realize opening up to another person wasn’t such an awful thing, to make me realize liking someone else wasn’t the end of the world, and that I very much wanted to be loved and that I also wanted to love another. The silence that dragged on wasn’t awkward, but I felt Mingi tense the more I didn’t say anything, and as he looked at me with eyes that held light fear in them, I smiled. And then, I was turning onto my side and leaning over to kiss him. As always, his plush lips were soft and warm, welcoming and eager as I pressed a chaste kiss against them, trying not to smile but I failed miserably as Mingi sighed quietly. I pulled back as my intention wasn’t to turn this into anything deeper, but Mingi chased after my lips, our noses bumping together as I cupped his cheek with my hand, my hair falling around us as our lips pressed a little firmer against each other.

It was slow, neither one of us desperate or trying to prove anything as we got lost in the feel of the other, of the other’s warmth and taste—which was a mix of salted caramel popcorn and hot chocolate, Mingi’s cologne making my head dizzy as our lips slotted perfectly together, moving languidly against each other. My hand slipped to hold his jaw and he freed a hand from under his head as he held onto the back of my head, sucking my lip between his teeth without bruising them or nipping at them. I hummed against his lips and pressed another swift kiss against them before pulling away, my face hovering above his as I didn’t want to open my eyes just yet, basking in the feeling kissing Mingi brought with itself. Our noses bumped together again and I smiled as Mingi giggled, no doubt enjoying the proximity.

“So,” His voice was quiet and when I opened my eyes, I was met with an unexpected flush to his cheeks, that subsequently made me blush as well, “what are we now?”

“What should we be?” I asked, my tone warm as I bit my lower lip to contain my smile.

“What do you want us to be?”

“A couple?”

It felt like time stopped as I muttered those words, feeling nervous and scared, but so ready to offer everything I had to Mingi, to make him happy, to make him feel loved and appreciated. I never wanted to see him hurt, especially not because of me. I had seen Mingi’s smile before plenty of times, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the way his eyes disappeared and nose scrunched up, all teeth on display as he smiled up at me, making my heart flutter as I just realized something. I loved him, I loved this man lying underneath me and nothing would stop me from cherishing him like he deserved to be.

“Yeah, I want us to be a couple.” He spoke as he didn’t stop smiling, and I tried to keep mine in check.

“But we have to go on more dates, at least three more, to get to know each other better.” My eyebrows slightly furrowed and Mingi smoothed them out with his fingers tenderly.

“Of course, we’ll take it at your pace, I have nothing to rush for.” I felt grateful as Mingi winked and I pressed a swift kiss before I buried my head in his neck, letting him pull me closer to his body as I cuddled up against his side, “Can I tell Wooyoung at least”

“You think I won’t tell Seulgi?”

And we giggled together as Mingi pressed a kiss against my head, humming in contentment as our fingers intertwined, resting upon his beating heart. I’ve never felt more like I belonged than at this exact moment. Not even with my art.

            By the time Mingi drove me home, it was well into the evening, the dark streets illuminated by the lampposts, some having burned down as Mingi turned onto my street. We didn’t feel the need to discuss much on our way back, our date was successful and filled with laughter and deep conversations that only confirmed my suspicions of Mingi. He was a good guy, too good to be true at times, but I was more than grateful that he was by my side.

His old black Honda Prelude came to a slow stop in front of my house and I unbuckled my seatbelt as Mingi turned his head and smiled, placing the car in neutral as he pulled the handbrake up. I turned and looked at him, our smiles almost shy as if we weren’t ready to say goodbye just yet, acting as if we wouldn’t see each other tomorrow. I agreed to let him pick me up for a breakfast date as we both only had classes starting at noon. If my heart fluttered and lungs convulsed at the thought of having Mingi pick me up tomorrow for a breakfast date, I would only admit it to my mother as now I had to explain why I wouldn’t have breakfast with her in the morning. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, too excited to actually get the amount of sleep that was healthy. Perhaps I would even paint some more, for once, I wasn’t behind on assignments, but I felt the itch under my skin to create something new.

“Well,” I cleared my throat once the silence got too much, “I loved spending my time with you, Mingi, thank you for taking me out.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” He looked away abashed, but only for a second as he gave me a cheeky look, “I bet it’ll be hard to overdo my efforts now.”

“You wish.” I chuckled and grabbed my backpack from between my legs, “Don’t forget, I might be artsier than you are, love.”

It was certainly surprising to see Mingi’s face flush, ears included. If I remember correctly, Yunho’s ears always flushed before his face could if he was flustered, flattered, or embarrassed, and now I couldn’t help but find it endearing that the two best friends had similar mannerisms, “Uh—yeah, I—love?!”

I giggled and bit my lower lip, leaning over the center console with a cheeky grin, “Well, did you expect me not to call you nicknames? You call me doll, it’s only fair I return the favor—”

“But love?!” Mingi exclaimed, slightly confusing me as he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, “I—I think I’m unwell.”

“What?” My eyebrows furrowed, suddenly concerned, “Why?”

“My stomach won’t stop flipping around and because I’m losing my mind?” Upon Mingi’s helpless expression and whine, my eyes widened and I fell back into my seat, not quite laughing as I couldn’t help but gape at him.

“Do I fluster you—”

“Very much so!” Mingi exclaimed as he hid behind his hands again and I might have malfunctioned for a second as I’d never seen him acting like this. Did he have a fever? Did a simple nickname turn him into a whiney kid?

“Well, it’s payback time for all the times you made me suffer, love.” Mingi looked like he was about to combust and I couldn’t help but cackle as I blew him a kiss before grabbing the handle to open the car’s door. But before I could step out, Mingi shot forward and opened the glove box.

“Wait!” He said hurriedly and I froze, looking at him curiously. He grabbed a black notebook and handed it to me, eyes boring into mine despite his still red ears, “Flip through it once you’re settled down, please.”

I smiled and nodded, feeling curious as I took it from him, and certainly blushed an ugly shade of red when he pressed a quick kiss against my cheek, making me stumble for a second as I got out of his car. It was his time to feel triumphant for making me feel flustered, and I couldn’t help but flip him off as his amused laughter was audible through the closed doors and rolled-up windows. He winked and waved cheekily before putting the car in first gear and motioning for me to head inside. Feeling giddy and curious, I waved before turning my back to walk to the front door as nonchalantly as possible, fishing my keys out of my pocket. Once I was inside, Mingi drove off and I slammed the front door shut, locking it quickly as I had half a mind slipping out of my boots and throwing my jacket onto the floor absentmindedly as I raced up to my room, not bothering to turn on the lights. I might have bumped into the edge of the railing and the edge of my door as I turned on the bedside table lamp, dropping everything on the floor except the notebook as I plopped down onto the bed.

My heart was racing as I got comfortable, almost forgetting my phone was in my back pocket and would be crushed if I sat on it, so I retrieved it and placed it on the bed next to me. My fingers trembled lightly and I licked my lips as I flipped the notebook open, surprised to find Mingi’s name written prettily on the first page with doddles decorating the rest of the blank page, all kinds of little animals and shapes signed by his friend’s names, no doubt them having drawn those in here. Too curious about the contents of the notebook, I started slowly flipping through the pages, eyes skimming over all the words and musical notes, Mingi’s handwriting was pretty despite it being rushed at times—most of the time.

Then, I flipped to a page that had my name only on it with a small heart next to it. My heart was suddenly in my throat as I took a shaky breath, flipping to another page, eyes slowly taking in all the words.

‘And the world is cold/But it's beautiful/I wish you were here now’, I could imagine Mingi’s soft tone singing these in a whisper before the beat picked up. ‘It's your magnetic hold/A gravity pull/I can feel you in waves/When your melody comes/It falls from above/I will not be afraid’, I gulped, eyebrows furrowing as I slowly traced over the words, Mingi’s pen having made an indent in the paper when he scribbled them down. Eager to read more, I looked further down, drinking in what I now realized to be lyrics, ‘So lost/Coming from me when I'm lost/You kiss my neck and then you're gone/Turn me off and turn me on oh/Eat up every word you say/My perception dilates’. I bit my bottom lip, heart racing just a little faster as I realized Mingi offered me a glance inside his mind, inside his feelings and how he’s viewed me and our relationship over the months, ‘Want you to waste my time/Mess with my mind/Fly me to the other side/Don't say goodbye to reds in my eyes/Love me enough to hate me/Waste my time, waste my time/Waste my time, waste my time’.

I gulped, suddenly feeling guilty for having tormented Mingi for so long, for having made him feel like I was playing with his feelings, ‘Like a phantom, I will steal your heart/Until we're dancing in the dark/Like a phantom, I will steal your heart/Until we're dancing in the dark’. I chuckled, imagining Mingi hunched over his desk with a frown on his lips as he jotted the lyrics down, then smirked in triumph at the fantasy of finally having my heart in his hands—and I think he’s rather close to achieving that now, ‘Chit chat, do you want that/Or wanna take me home tonight?/All this chit chat is holding me back/And I'm breaking just to bend your light/I thought I told you, I really need your sugar/A rollercoaster, I'm going supernova/Chit chat is holding me back/To you, you’. I tried to refrain from grinning too hard at the lyrics. Going back home with Mingi wasn’t a repulsive thought anymore as it would have been a month ago. No, now I would rather go home with him. I wanted to be around him, I wanted him.

‘Oh, my oh, my oh my/Why's it every night/I'm feeling so sleepless?/Oh, why oh, why oh why?/I'm losing my mind/Maybe you're the reason’, I couldn’t help but gulp at the thought of Mingi not being able to sleep, bothered by thoughts of me, ‘Started as friends, but less than lovers/It's all making sense/On days, I'm thinking about us/Yeah, I know I'm so selfish/Hate the thought of someone else/Making you laugh, smiling, happy, if it ain't me or myself’. I gulped, feeling like Mingi got a glimpse inside my head too, making me remember how quickly and easily my jealousy previously flared whenever I saw him talking to the blonde girl. ‘I was more than just a body in your passenger seat/And you were more than just somebody I was destined to meet/I see you go half-blind when you're looking at me’, my breath faltered for a second as I quickly read over the lyrics again, wondering just how obvious it was to everyone else but myself that I was into Mingi, that he was into me.

‘I, I, I never thought I'd find true love/I, I guess I wasn't looking hard enough/If my heart stops now, you're the one thing that made it all worth it/If the sky falls down, right now, you're the one that I'll worship’, the words had no reason getting to me, yet I couldn’t help but flush hard as I blinked my eyes and rubbed at them, trying to cool off for a second, but I was too curious of what more was in the notebook, ‘Well, I heard you whisper/To all your friends/I heard you telling them that/You need a man in whom you can depend’. I chuckled, feeling amused but completely in awe of Mingi’s lyrics, his words somehow making complete sense and almost like a challenge to admit he was right about me, ‘Well I'd be the gasoline/To keep you alive/And I'd be the cold, so unbreakable/We'd burn together straight through the night/That's alright’. And now I had no doubts that Mingi would do anything for me, but what he didn’t know just yet, was that I would be his ride and die from now on.

‘Oh, and my love/Did I mistake you for a sign from God?/Or are you really here to cut me off?/Or maybe just to turn me on’, and perhaps if breathing became harder, it would be obvious to anyone as I tried to regulate my breaths and ignore the flush over my body, ‘'Cause these days/I would be lying if I told you that/I didn't wish that I could be your man/Or maybe make a good girl bad’. I gulped and sat up straighter, flipping another page hurriedly to read more of the song’s lyrics, easily imagining Mingi up on stage, raspy and smooth voice blending into the microphone and making the hairs on my arms stand as we made eye contact, his gaze intense and sharp, challenging in a way that would get me all bothered and hot, ‘I've got a river running right into you/I've got a blood trail, red in the blue/Something you say or something you do/The taste of the divine’. And I honestly to God hoped to see them perform this song one day, curious of what the band would sound like together, of Mingi’s voice and his eyes, ‘You've got my body, flesh and bone/The sky above, the Earth below/Nothing to say and nowhere to go/A taste of the divine’. I was ready to turn another page when my phone dinged loudly, making me flinch in surprise as I was completely immersed in Mingi’s lyrics.

Mings 🖤: home i hope you enjoy whatever you find in there some are spicy lol

Without thinking much, I pressed the dial button next to his name and raised the phone to my ear, my heart beating out of my chest. It barely rang twice before Mingi’s deep voice greeted me through the phone and I gulped, mouth working faster than my brain, “Mingi.”

“Yes, doll?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The deafening silence was filled with the loud thumps of my heart that only I could hear, and I was sure my pulse was way too high, but I couldn’t care less as I listened carefully to hear Mingi’s reaction. His gasp was loud as I licked my lips, eyes boring into the notebook again, “I read it, your lyrics.”

More silence, until there was a deep breath and Mingi’s raspy voice made me sink in on myself, goosebumps covering my whole body, “Good, because I think I’m already in love with you.”

I huffed out a breath, my smile was huge as Mingi’s chuckle that followed sounded breathless but somehow as if he was at ease. I couldn’t help but fall back on my bed, holding onto the phone tightly as I pushed the notebook to the side, eyes falling on my sketchbook, “I’ll send you something, listen to it now.”

“Alright, thank you.” Mingi hummed and then hung up, making my heartbeat quicken once again as I watched the dots in our chat move, and then a voice file was sent, with a message attached to listen to it with headphones. I quickly turned onto my stomach to reach for my nightstand, grabbing the headphones and connecting it to my phone as I placed it on my head, biting my lower lip as a familiar melody, lyrics, and voice traveled through the headphones, covering my skin in goosebumps.

『'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need

I promise you, you're all I see

'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need

I'll never leave

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you』

❱❱ Epilogue

A/N: Can y'all imagine this was supposed to be the last chapter?? lol, back in December when I wrote the whole plot this is how I tied everything up BUT THEN, maybe around two months ago I was tbh just gushing to my bestie about Mingi and some other things, and I realized, wait a minute-I can totally write this for LMLAR?! And so, that's how the epilogue came into existence, which I'm grateful for because I feel like it ends the story on a good note *cries*, would you like me to post the epilogue this week on Friday or next week on Wednesday? majority wins lol

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[petrichor-han]

the debt of existence; choi yeonjun

PAIRING | ghost!yeonjun x gn!human!reader

CAST | choi yeonjun, kang taehyun, seo changbin (mentioned)

WC | 18.2k

GENRE | angst, (slight) fluff, horror, ghost!au, non-idol!au

WARNINGS | mentions of death & dying, explicit language, mc had abusive parents, flashbacks to said abuse (physical and verbal), smoking, ghosts/spirits, childhood/unresolved trauma, mentions of hoarding, mentions of murder & suicide, descriptions of a crime/murder scene, gore/blood

SYNOPSIS | you remember your childhood home as a landmine, filled with metaphoric bombs just waiting to go off at any possible second—there was a reason you never came back home to visit after you moved out at the ripe age of eighteen. years later, your parents are dead and gone, and you realize that you have inherited that very same house—complete with the spirit that has haunted it since before you were born. 

A/N | hello everyone!! this is my addition to the monster beside me collab hosted by @decembermoonskz​!! super late, the collab was unofficially dissolved ages ago, and not my proudest work, but i wanted to finish this fic anyways since i was mostly done with it before my hiatus lol. slightly inspired by the webtoon my boo by jeongseo. please reblog and leave feedback/comments, it would be much appreciated!! 🫶

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MASTERLIST | THE MONSTER BESIDE ME

JULY 

The end of July is always slightly uncomfortable, you think. It’s the midst of summer, but perhaps that contributes to its unease, to the realization that everything in life is fleeting and temporary, but it is not a sad thing to think of, as it just is. That is how it always is and how it always will be. July is a reminder that everything comes to an end, even things that seem everlasting, like the pesky mosquitos that suckle at your plush flesh in the warm muggy evenings and the flashing memories of childhood that you can’t seem to forget when you eat a cheap cherry flavored ice pop. 

Or, that’s what you think a relatively normal childhood would seem like. Not that you would really know. 

Your childhood summers were a dull thing to look back on, and most of what you could gather from your scattered memories, presumably locked away because of how much you hated it, was an image of you sitting in your one joy from your bleak youth: the large bay window that overlooked the front yard of your house. The yard could have been beautiful, you’d always thought as much. It was a large, pretty space with endless room for growth. You often daydreamed about the fresh vegetables, the pretty flowers, the vines and greenery of your dreams that could have flourished there if given the chance. Your parents didn’t seem to share the same daydream, instead doing the bare minimum to upkeep their lawn. The grass was not dead nor was it suffering, but it was nowhere close to being soft and supple like your neighbors’ lawns, that much you could tell though you were never allowed to tread upon it. This was another thing that your beloved bay window was good for: looking at the neighbors. 

It wasn’t a creepy thing. You were a child. Your neighbors had children too, and they seemed to have a much more colorful childhood than you did. During these endless summer hours when it seemed like the sun would never set, you watched them with one small hand pressed to your window, your breath fogging up the already condensated glass, small pearls of water forming from the mugginess, forlornly watching the other children play amongst themselves. Whether it was dress-up or tag, or simply rolling around in the soft green grass of their pretty lawns, you wished that just once you would be allowed to go there with them. It seemed like a separate world to you, as if your window panes were a television and you were watching a show about a happy childhood. You felt like a stranger looking in. You were a stranger looking in. 

Once, and just once, you were invited to come down and play with them. You remembered it. That summer was a particularly harsh one, in terms of temperature, and your parents’ creaky old house had no relief provided. The most that you could do was sit by your window and hope that a breeze would come through. This was the only time you were allowed to open your window. Unfortunately for you, though your window was cracked open, there wasn’t the slightest bit of wind. The blazing sun seemed to shrivel up everything in sight, heat waves visible in the air. It made you feel drowsy as you slumped against the wall, pushing your window open more and more even though you weren’t allowed to do so. You kept thinking that maybe if you pushed it open just a little more a small breeze would come through and tousle your sweaty hair… maybe it would send a nice breath of relief through your clothes. 

“Hey!” 

You jolted out of your daydreaming, your half-slumber. 

“Do you want to come play with us?” 

You look out of your window, heart catching in your throat. A few kids that you recognize from the neighborhood stand right outside your front gate, one of them even daring to lean against the old, chipping, white wood. The one that shouted at you is holding a soccer ball in her hands, the white patches more gray now than anything, a sign of a well-used, well-loved toy. She turns it over in her hands as she stares up at you, eyes twinkling with playfulness. You’re panicking now, just slightly; you’d never been asked to play with them before and you don’t want to mess it up. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says doubtfully, the corners of her lips now slightly downturned in a frown, as if she were worried about hurting your feelings. “We like to invite new kids sometimes. But you don’t have to come.” 

“I want to!” you find yourself shouting back, though your heart pounds loudly in your ears with adrenaline. You swear you can feel your own blood coursing through your veins in your arms and legs, your ears burning with excitement. “Are you sure it’s okay if I come?” Even though they were the ones that invited you, you still find yourself worrying that they don’t want you there, and you play with your fingers as you lower your gaze, half-expecting them to laugh and say that they didn’t want you there after all. 

“Of course,” the same girl says matter-of-factly, and you like her right away with her no-nonsense aura. She seems to be the leader of this small group, and you want so badly for her to like you, for her to take you under her wing. You lick your chapped lips as she gives you a small smile, motioning for you to come down. “What’s your name?” she asks, and just as you part your lips to give her a response, your heart soaring through the thick, humid summer air, you find yourself being pulled backwards roughly, your sticky t-shirt pulled up against your throat as you choke and gag at the harshness. Your small fingers scrabble at the fabric that’s pulled up against your neck, and you are thrust aside onto the wooden floor. You can feel the skin of your left elbow dragging against the bare floor, skinning it effectively, and you cry out, cradling your sore joint. 

“They can’t come out to play,” your mother says roughly, before slamming the window shut and turning back to you, her eyes blazing. “What the hell were you doing? You know you’re not allowed to leave the house when we’re not home. Do you want to get kidnapped?” She’s still in her work uniform, beads of sweat appearing on her moist forehead; clearly, she had had a rough day at work. 

You feel yourself curling into a ball involuntarily, afraid of your mother’s rough tone. Your elbow stings and you just want her to leave so that you can look at the damage. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice hardly above a whisper. “I was wrong.” 

“No shit,” she scoffs, and she runs a hand through her hair, eyes shut as she sighs, annoyance clear in her tone. “Don’t let me catch you doing that again. This is what’s best for you, and you’re making me look like the bad guy. It��s for your own safety.” 

“I won’t do it again,” you promise, guilt pooling in your stomach. You don’t dare to stand up, for you know that she could very well physically kick you down again. With the look on her face, it wouldn’t be far-fetched. And you do feel horrible–she’s right, after all, you think. They don’t give you many rules to follow, and you’ve read stories where people are hurt by their parents daily. They have never broken your bones or hurt you when you didn’t deserve it. Your skinned elbow was your fault. 

You think that your mother might give you a good spanking anyways, even though you were sorry, but instead she just looks at you with her upper lip curled in exasperation, eyes narrowed at you as if you were a bug that were squirming around on her floors, and leaves your room, slamming it shut behind her so hard that you can hear the hinges groan. The tell-tale click of a key slipping into your lock tells you that you won’t be allowed out for a while. You swallow hard and pick yourself up off the floor, tears burning the backs of your eyes as you try to hold them back. Your elbow is bleeding, and you don’t have any bandages so you press a piece of tissue to it even though it stings to have any contact. You sit yourself back on the edge of your bay window and stare at a new crack on the left side of the glass, something that would always remind you of that bleak July day when your mother once again dashed your hopes of having friends in the neighborhood—all in the name of your supposed “safety.”

You can see that same crack from the front gate, which is where you currently stand. You fumble with the old skeleton key in the pocket of your jacket, feeling the humidity make the material stick uncomfortably to your skin. Your fingers smell like old metal and rust when you retract them from your pocket, and it makes you feel slightly ill as you back away from the house. 

Not yet. 

Instead, you walk back to your car that’s parked on the side of the road, reach into your other pocket that holds your car keys, and unlock your door. You can still feel the cool air that had been blowing; you’d left the car running when you went for a quick look at your childhood home. You slide into your seat and close the door behind you, sighing as you grip the steering wheel tightly with both hands and press your sticky forehead against the top of it. You feel like you’re melting into the vinyl seats, like your skin is stuck to it like a pest to flypaper, and you shift uncomfortably as you look up, eyes darting between the empty road in front of you and the house that holds some of your most repressed memories. You thought that you had the confidence to waltz in there and clear it out as soon as you got the call from the bank, but seeing it now made your blood curdle. Clearly, there were some unresolved issues that you didn’t even know you were dealing with, and they were preventing you from going inside and just taking a look around the damn place. 

You shift the gear and back up out of your subpar parallel parking job on the uneven, cracked road. Your GPS says that the coffee shop you’re due to meet Taehyun at is fifteen minutes away. That’s fifteen minutes to clear your damn mind and convince him to give up his next few weekends to do you a huge favor. As you drive away from the old house, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. 

You can do this. 

An old pop song from the past decade erupts from your speakers, and you reach over to turn it down even though the nostalgia rush gives you waves of calmness, in a way you hardly remembered. The singer’s voice—you don’t remember the name of the one hit wonder—is warbly and slightly out of tune, but it’s just because of your shitty old car and its apparent inability to play songs in the right key. You tap your fingers against the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a light, the bright red glare stopping you dead in your tracks. 

The unfortunate thing is that you remember this road all too well. Years of driving down the same old street in your beat up family car with your parents spitting insults at each other had carved every crack, every pebble of this paved road deep into the grooves of your brain. You don’t think you could ever forget it; you could probably drive through it with your eyes closed. 

The light turns green, and the distant sounds of your mother’s sobs and your father’s cursing dissipates as your tires grind against the old asphalt, stalling for just a moment before advancing. 

The rest of the drive is more relaxing, less familiar. When you were a kid your parents didn’t ever stop by these coffeehouses, telling you that all they did was guzzle money that could be used on better things, and the teenagers that both worked and frequented there were bad influences anyways. You, being a naive child, agreed even though you didn’t really know what the hell they were saying. And you had to pretend that you didn’t want to go inside those cozy looking cafe’s, with fires blooming inside that fogged up the windows in the most delicious way possible. Instead, you followed your mother’s lead as she tugged on your arm, leaving behind the physical warmth that you so craved in place of emotional warmth from her. 

You think of this as you mutter curses to yourself under your breath just like your father used to, trying to find a parking spot. Some jackass in an old silver car has parked over the line, and you roll your eyes as you realize it’s your jackass; as Taehyun steps out of the car and winces as he looks at the crooked parking job. He spots you and waves before climbing back inside and backing out sharply, nearly hitting you in the process, and re-parks—not nearly a perfect job, but much better than before. This also allows you to take up the second spot that Taehyun had taken over before, and you rub your eyes tiredly as you finally unbuckle your seatbelt. 

Cicadas chirp loudly at you, and a distant hoot echoes in your ears as you stare into the thicket of trees on the other side of the coffeehouse. “Rough morning?” Taehyun asks as you step out of your car. 

“Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. Not really?” You lean against the trunk of your car after walking around, pursing your lips as the sun-warmed surface bites at your exposed legs. Your shorts ride up your ass and you can’t help but think about how annoying summers in your hometown can be, sensory wise. 

“I mean, you look tired. That’s all.” Taehyun shrugs as you shake off your denim jacket and toss it in the backseat of your car, the mugginess finally getting to you. 

“What a nice thing to say to a friend,” you say sarcastically, locking your doors. “You look like shit too.” 

“I actually was up all night, so you’re not wrong,” Taehyun admits, jerking his head towards the coffeehouse, and the two of you start walking towards it. It’s much different than your distant memory of the cozy atmosphere during a childhood winter. In the summer it looks like a cool solace, shielded by old trees with decades of memories and gentle indie guitar music that can be heard from the outside as you get closer to the entrance. It’s charming, you think, as you run your fingers along the raw wood railing, the old stairs creaking as the combined weight of you and Taehyun makes it groan. “I always think I’m gonna break these damn things,” Taehyun says, as you successfully make it to the front entrance. 

“They’re always that creaky?” 

“Always. But they’ve never failed anyone yet, so I guess we have to trust them.” He opens the door for you, and a small golden bell above the door is triggered and it jingles as you walk inside. A rush of cool air seems to quench your thirst as it washes over your uncomfortably warm body, and you sigh with relief as the scent of iced coffee and fruity mixtures pleasantly enters your senses. You realize that it seems to double as a bookstore, as multiple shelves are crammed with both old and new books, lining the walls of the shop. 

“I’ve never been here before. What’re you getting?” you ask, squinting at the menu while you fan yourself with your wallet. 

“I always just get an iced Americano. You know me,” Taehyun says. The young couple in front of you finishes ordering and moves out of the way, and you let Taehyun go first so that you can scan the menu at least one more time before you’re put on the spot. 

The teenager behind the counter has two big buns twisted messily atop her head, and a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose bridge make her look younger than she probably is. A pen on each side secures her buns, and she takes one out, making the left bun flop down. “What can I do for you today?” she asks, and even though she isn’t annoyed her voice carries a tone that makes you squirm uncomfortably, as if you’d interrupted her. Her hair-accessory-slash-pen is twirled between her fingers as she looks at you. 

You blink at her stupidly before saying the first thing on the menu, and she asks if you want it iced or plain, and you wonder if having a plain drink was always an option before blurting out iced. She writes it down, smacks her gum loudly, and you move aside to let the elderly person behind you order next. 

“What did you get?” Taehyun asks, as his name is called and his iced americano is slid across the counter. He picks it up and takes a sip. 

“Something with iced tea, I don’t even know.” You glumly stare at the other teenager that’s busy making drinks, and your name is called just a few moments later. You pick up something with iced tea and honey and sparkling water (you think) and sit down with Taehyun at a slightly sticky table full of pastry crumbs. He sweeps them away with a brown napkin made of eco-friendly materials, and you sip at your drink, which surprisingly isn’t that bad, as he sits down across from you. 

“So why are you back in town? Didn’t you just get a job offer from that city a few hours away?” Taehyun asks nonchalantly. 

You grit your teeth; you didn’t expect him to get to the topic right away. But then again, it’s Taehyun. He’s always been more straightforward and blunt than most people, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t appreciate that about him. In fact, it was something that you did like about him. You use your paper straw to push around at the ice cubes in your drink, looking down at the shocked wood that your table was made up of. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

“I have time.” 

“Well my parents died, and they left their old house to me. So now I have to clean it out and either sell it or keep it.” 

“That wasn’t a very long story.” 

You manage a laugh, but you don’t really mean it or find any of this funny. “I know. It was just hard to say.” 

Taehyun sips at his coffee. “Well, that must be rough. I’m sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry. But if you really want to make me feel better, help me clean it out. They had so much shit crammed in that house that we never needed.” You smile at Taehyun’s eye-roll. 

“And that’s why you asked me to hang out.” 

“‘Course it is. You know me and my ulterior motives.” You use air quotes around this, and Taehyun has known you long enough to understand that this was something your late father insinuated about you a lot. He laughs, a pity laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. You pretend not to notice that your joke made him uncomfortable, and pull out a book on the shelf closest to you. If you still had time to read, you think you might have taken it home, but you don’t, so you put it back and play with your paper straw some more before looking back at Taehyun. “You don’t have to, by the way. I can do it myself.” 

“No, I’ll help. Besides, I think you need my help if it’s as bad as you always said it was.” He finishes his coffee and stands up. “What are we waiting for? Let’s just go now and get some of it over with.” 

Again, you feel slight unease at his eagerness to get on with the tasks at hand, but you push your drink aside and shrug. “Okay, why not?” you ask, though something in your brain is nagging at you to leave it to another day. You stand up, taking your half-finished drink in hand and tossing it in the garbage, feeling only a little guilty about it, and follow Taehyun out to the parking lot. “Want me to send you the address?” you ask, pulling out your phone, but he shakes his head. 

“Nah. I know it already.” It’s a nod back to the day he helped you move out while both your parents were at work, the day you turned eighteen. It’s a bittersweet memory, and you push it back into the void of your mind as you manage a smile towards your dear childhood friend, and then walk back around to your own car, sandals smacking against the uneven asphalt. 

You sidle back into your car seat, adjusting the air conditioning so that it blasts your sweaty face and neck, and exhale loudly as you start pulling out of the parking lot, spotting the old, beat-up, silver car that he got from his dad back in high school. You follow his lead even though you recognize the way back as soon as you get back onto the main road, away from the forbidden coffeehouse of your childhood, and you want to pretend like you’re completely oblivious to the familiarity. But instead, you let your thoughts guide you, and the weight of resurfacing memories rests heavily on your chest, tempting you to reach up with one hand and place it over your heart, squeezing gently at the fabric of your shirt as if that would relieve the tension. 

Taehyun has taken the parking spot that you had earlier, in the street in front of the old house rather than the driveway, which you reluctantly pull into. The sloping pavement makes your old car groan as you park it and step out, keys jingling in your hands as you switch it out for the singular rusty key you’d received in the mail a few days before; the only way to get into the old house. Your parents hadn’t bothered with modernizing it any, and since it had been built well over a century ago, its age was definitely showing, especially now that your parents were gone and the minimal upkeep that they did had diminished completely. You stared at the bland front lawn with distaste, the complete lack of any landscaping still leaving a bitter flavor on your tongue as you remembered the vibrant gardens of your neighbors in your youth. Though plain, it was now completely overgrown with weeds, the grass growing dark green and lush from the frequent rain, which only added to the muggy climate. You felt your skin crawl, already imagining all of the insects that probably called that jungle of a lawn their home, and you reached down to slap a pesky mosquito off of your ankle as Taehyun’s footsteps approached, crunching the loose gravel scattered across the driveway. “How long has it been?” he asked carefully, though you wouldn’t have really cared if he’d been blunt about this as well. 

“I got the key a month ago. I don’t know how long it's been since they actually died. Or if they’d lived like this even before they passed. All I know is that my mom died first and my dad died a little bit after.” You frown before brushing past Taehyun and using the key to open the separate garage, where your parents never kept any cars but rather an assortment of gardening and outdoor supplies that they never used, a hoard of untouched second-hand objects that you could use to tackle the mess outside. You puttered around until you found an old lawnmower, small enough that you were fairly confident you’d be able to use it even though you had little to no experience using one, and a few other gardening tools that you handed to Taehyun, which he immediately sighed at but ultimately knelt down and started pulling weeds using said tools. 

You trudged through the grass, feeling the long blades tickle your shins, as you pushed the lawnmower across it. It had turned on after a few tries, and was now eating up grass faster than a herd of hungry goats, though you had to continuously empty the bag inside to keep it from clogging. The scent of freshly cut grass reached your nostrils and it was gratifying in a way, to know that after all these years the front yard would finally look decent. It might not be fancy, but decently kept was good enough for you. 

Taehyun stared up at the sky after he finished pulling the last weed from his side of the lawn and squinted at the bright sun that was beating down on the two of you. “Any chance your folks left refreshments inside the house?” he asked jokingly, and you laughed aloud, haughtily. 

“It’ll be lucky if there’s no rotting food still left in there,” you said, turning off the lawnmower and stepping back to admire your work. It wasn’t the prettiest job ever, but the lawn was mowed, and the difference was clear. Already, the house looked better, even with the chipping paint and anciently styled structure. “But it wouldn’t hurt to check.” 

Taehyun trailed behind you as you approached the front door, a queer feeling passing through your body as you felt an old familiarity drape over you like a blanket. You slipped the key into the hole and unlocked the heavy front door, the chipping white paint flaking off as it swung open, creaking all the way. You made a mental note to repaint the door when you could. 

Pocketing the key, you stepped up into the house that housed your sadness for so many years, and immediately you felt guilt pooling in your stomach. It was clear that in your parents’ later years they hadn’t been able to clean very well, and a thick layer of dust covered nearly everything in the first few rooms you walked through, apart from frequently used items and the floor, which looked grimy and in need of a deep scrubbing session. There were piles of trash that had never been taken out, and boxes and boxes of more useless items that they seemingly never used. You wouldn’t call them hoarders, but rather collectors—they never gave up something once they got their hands on it, thinking it’d come in handy one day. 

Now that you thought about it, maybe they were hoarders. You ignore that thought and immediately think to just clear out everything cluttered and clean the furniture as much as possible to stage it for possible buyers. You have no qualms or doubts about selling the house; you had no good memories associated with it, no positive nostalgia. And you had your own place and made enough money that you could get your own house if you so pleased—which you didn’t want to do just yet—without the bad memories. 

“Wow,” Taehyun says, whistling at the mess. “We really have our work cut out for us, don’t we?” 

“Just thinking about it is making my head hurt,” you grumble. “I’m checking out the basement for a second, do you mind scoping out the kitchen?” 

Taehyun salutes you, a cheesy smile on his face as he turns to walk back to the kitchen, which is much closer to the front door, and you take it upon yourself to undo the chain on the door down to the basement and clomp down the old wooden stairs. It’s not a scary basement, especially in the daylight. It was mostly another place for your parents to stash old knickknacks and such, a storage room if anything. Windows lined the very tops of the walls, letting in just enough sunlight to warm the room and light it up so that it didn’t feel like something out of a horror movie. Though, you had to admit that it was creepy being down there alone—but you had that odd feeling upstairs, too. 

You exhale loudly, plumes of dust flying up from the nearest box, and you sneeze as you pick up a box that looks to be full of books. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, rubbing your teary eyes, “I need some god damn air.” 

“So do I,” a nasally voice proclaimed, and you nearly jump out of your skin as you look around and spot a figure of a man in the corner. 

“Taehyun!” you shout, throat straining, dropping the box. The corners split open and books spill out onto the floor as you rush for the stairs, collapsing against Taehyun as the two of you collide. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, concerned, gripping you tightly. His gaze falls upon the split box. “Did you hurt yourself when you dropped the box?” He examines your hands, your arms. 

“Don’t you see him?” you whisper, and Taehyun’s big eyes seem to widen even more, if that’s even possible. 

“See who?” he whispers back. 

“There. In the corner.” Your voice is cracking, eyes welling up with tears both from the dust and the fear. “You don’t see him?” 

“There’s no one there…” Taehyun says. His lips suddenly feel extremely dry, and his tongue darts out to wet them. “Maybe—maybe this was too much all at once. I think we should go.” 

You wipe your eyes with your bare arm and nod, letting him lead you up the stairs. 

“Wait! Don’t go!” the voice says again, and you look behind you, terrified, to see the man coming after you both. He moves oddly, his limbs jerking in unnatural ways as if he were not used to walking. You shriek, rush in front of Taehyun and drag him up the stairs, out of the basement, past the kitchen, out the front door and through the front yard. You don’t stop until you’re both hunched over in the driveway, sides aching and chests heaving. 

The front door had slammed behind you both even though neither of you touched it, and you make eye contact with Taehyun. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to use words to let you know that he’s saying he’s never coming back to the house. 

You wish that you could say the same, but instead your eyes say that you have to come back—just not any time soon. 

The sun is setting when you and Taehyun leave the old house, and every time you blink you think you see the tall man out of the corner of your eye. It’s like he’s following you, and you can’t shake him off your trail. The only time you feel safe is when you’re out in the daytime, when his supposed presence is suppressed by crowds of other people. 

But you can’t always stay safe. And so your last few July nights are filled with nightmares, the kinds that leave you sweating buckets into your sheets, the kinds that make you wake up with tears in your eyes. 

There is nothing you can do about it—except go back and see him again. 

AUGUST

Taehyun had taken up a summer job on the opposite side of town, and though he promised to keep in touch, you hadn’t really heard from him much. When he did message you, it was about mundane things, more often than not he talked about said summer job, in which he did nothing but keep the landscape of an old retirement home in shape. This reminded you of the work that the two of you had done on your own house, but the one time that you tried to bring it up to him he hung up on you and didn’t call you back until the next day. “It just freaked me out, okay?” he said exasperatedly, “just hire someone to clean out the house.” 

You scoffed at that for two reasons: one, you didn’t have nearly enough money for that, and two, you had a terrible nagging feeling that these nightmares wouldn’t subside unless you got to the root of the problem. Which of course, was the house and whatever it was that resided in it. 

You never really considered yourself particularly gutsy or brave, but the lack of sleep was starting to get to you, and though that job offer that Taehyun had mentioned offered to let you work remotely until the end of the year, you knew that the sooner you got this shit over with, the sooner you could move on with your damn life. So you hauled your ass to the hardware store and picked up a bucket of white paint that you were almost sure matched the shade of the front door, though it was almost impossible to tell for sure with how weathered and damaged it was, and the cheapest cleaning supplies that would still get the job done. 

But as soon as you approached the gates once more, you felt the familiar drop in your stomach. It was not the biggest house, as your parents were not wealthy, but the aura that it emanated made it seem equivalent to a castle with unscalable walls. The house had two stories, with a triangular roof that came to a main point right in the middle. You recognized the window at the left as your old bedroom window, and swallowed past the lump in your throat. All of the windows were dirty and fogged up with grime, especially the ones on the bottom floor, which were covered in handprints from the outside, presumably from people trying to look in now that it was vacant. 

The late summer sun was already beating down on you as you walked the short distance from the driveway to the front porch, weighed down by the cleaning supplies and paint. Though the weather was not the most agreeable, you could not call the experience unpleasant as you swept the floor of the porch and scrubbed at the windows, finally finishing with a fresh coat of paint on the door. You sat down on the slightly damp wood of the first step down, hugging your knees to your chest and picking at the drying paint on your skin. The lawnmower was still out on the lawn, and the grass was already growing back, though it was not remotely close to the length it had been when you first arrived. You reached down to pick at a few weeds that were growing taller than the grass, rolling over the rough stalks in your fingers as you breathed in the damp summer air. The day has been almost too peaceful, and you know that this will change as soon as you open the front door and step back inside. You know that the reason you saw him was because of what happened inside the house, not outside. 

“I don’t know what the fuck to do!” you shout at your phone. Your hands are pulling at your hair, scraping at your scalp frantically as you breathe heavily, your lungs feeling like they’ve shrunk and are unable to take in as much air as you need. As the last syllable rings in your ears, the silence from the other end of your call seems to be louder than your screams. You stare at the small screen laying atop the desk of your hotel room, shaking uncontrollably. 

“We know what this is coming from,” your therapist says gently. They ignore your outburst, which you are sure you’ll get complaints about. 

“What?” you ask, voice quieter now. 

“It’s because of the house. It’s because of your parents. It was just like what your friend said. It was too much all at once.” 

“What, so just because I couldn’t deal with being in a fucking house for ten minutes I imagined a ghost?” you snap, unfurling yourself from your previous position. Your bare feet brushed against the wooden floor, sending chills through your whole body as you thought about it. A ghost. 

“You’re still blaming yourself. It isn’t your fault that your trauma is resurfacing, you know,” your therapist says matter-of-factly. “Maybe this is a good thing. Next time you go back, why don’t you try talking to the ‘ghost’? They might have some perspective on what’s going on.” 

“So your solution is for me to accept that I’m fucking crazy. And now I have to talk to this ghost, that you don’t even believe is really a ghost, because again, I’m fucking crazy and this is all in my head. You’re saying that I’m a psycho and this is all a culmination of trauma, and my parents, and a bunch of other bullshit.” You rub at your aching temples. You’re mad now, you’ve forgotten about your fear. Anger has replaced it wholly, a misdirection, a distraction from the truth that you don’t want to accept. 

“You’re not crazy. But I do think that this ‘ghost’ is what you just said: a culmination of all of those things. It’s a ‘physical’ picture of your trauma.” 

“So what, now I’m a schizophrenic?” 

Your therapist laughs a little, drily. “No, you’re not. Schizophrenia isn’t something to joke about or be taken lightly. This is a trauma response. It’s very different.” 

You don’t reply, mostly because you’re pissed off at your therapist for insinuating that this is all in your head, because you know what you saw. And now that you’d had a few days to really think about it, you knew that it was real, even though Taehyun couldn’t see it, and your therapist is insisting that it’s some bullshit trauma response. 

The ghost in your house is real. You knew him all those years ago, and he still knows you now. 

The once-cold drink in your hand is now warming quickly from the sunlight reflecting off of the glass bottle. It’s only half-drunk, but you already don’t really want it any more, mostly because of the unease in your stomach at the thought of having to clean out the inside of the house now. You only started on the outside to procrastinate; they had let you know that repainting and such was not on your end of the deal. That would be taken care of by professionals. And now that you stare at your subpar paint job on the front door, you completely understand why. It looks cheap and messy, even though you did everything right. 

You’re staring at the door, trying to work up the courage to open it, when your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket, the sudden movement making you jolt. Plucking the device from said pocket, you immediately pick up the call, seeing Taehyun’s name flash across the screen. 

“Hello?” you ask drily, thumping the bottom of your warming drink against the stair you’re sitting on, the mindless clanks mimicking an old song you used to like. 

“Where are you?” he asks, “I’m at your hotel.” 

Uncomfortably, you gnaw at your bottom lip as you quickly scan the area. A slight breeze whips through your sticky clothes, and you clear your throat awkwardly before replying. “Uh… went out for lunch,” you said dully, “remember that Thai place we liked back in high school?” 

“Christ, you’re really bad at lying. Don’t you remember when it closed down four years ago?” You can hear Taehyun shuffle around and sigh deeply. “You’re back at the house again, aren’t you?” 

“Fine, I am,” you snap. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, maybe hire someone like I said? I bet there’s a bunch of idiots here that peaked in high school that would love to do it. It’s not like people like Seo Changbin have much to do after their football career crashed and died before they even got to college.” 

“Why the hell are you so bitter all of a sudden? And Changbin was one of the nice ones, you ass. You know he’s happy now, fuck football for destroying his shoulder.” 

“It’s not good for you to be back there!” he says, exasperated. “Forget Changbin, that’s not the point.” 

You sigh loudly. “I… I know. But there’s something about this place that makes me feel like I have to figure some shit out—like, here. In the house.” 

“Have you talked to your therapist lately? It’s your unresolved trauma on the phone.” 

“And that’s why I have to resolve it now!” you exclaim, “Look, I’m going to be careful, okay? I’ll take it slow and if some more freaky shit happens I’ll leave. But you have to help me pay for a professional then, you owe me after I helped you score that date last year.” 

“First of all, they ended up fucking me over, big time. Second of all, I feel like a date isn’t equivalent to money. But thirdly—fine. Just… let me know if you need anything, okay?” You feel a lump in your throat arise at the sudden empathy in his voice, and how it softened at the end of his statement. As much as you were annoyed with him, you knew that Taehyun only wanted you to be safe, and he out of all people knew just how much of a toll this process would take on you. 

“I will. Now get back to work, your lunch break ended twenty minutes ago,” you tease. 

“Ha ha,” he says drily, over pronouncing the words with a bitter tongue. “Call me when you get back to the hotel.” 

You roll your eyes to yourself and hang up after confirming that you would, in fact, make sure to call him when you get back, and then you turn your attention back to the project standing in front of you. You know that it’s time to go back inside, and you have a new burst of energy thanks to Taehyun doubting you. Maybe that burst of energy is mostly from pettiness, but it’s there nonetheless, and you plan to make use of it. 

You take out the key—that nasty old key—and slip it into the lock. The door opens much quicker than it did last time; there wasn’t enough time for it to stiffen as it did when it had been left alone for some time, and the door opens. It’s a little underwhelming, surprisingly. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting—something big and dramatic? Something straight out of a horror film? But instead, it looks almost welcoming. You think that if you hadn’t had such horrible memories associated with that same front hall, you would find it warm and inviting. The air inside is stuffy and musty, but the sunlight that streams in through the open front door illuminates the dust rising from the ground in a way that makes it look like the air is full of glitter, and it takes your breath away as you stare at the golden flecks dancing in the slight breeze. 

Looking around, you realize that your work might be easier than you previously thought. Though the entire house was grimy, and there were definitely boxes all over the place, most of their salvageable furniture and belongings had already been cleared out and donated—you having told the people in charge that you didn’t give a fuck what happened to any of it. It wasn’t like you wanted a floral patterned couch with an indent from where your father used to sit his lazy ass while he screamed his head off at you. 

You decided that starting with the boxes of miscellaneous stuff would be your best bet—once you cleared those out, it would be much easier to clean the floors, without the hassle of moving dirty cardboard around all over the clean floors. For a moment you hesitate, but then realize that your clothes are already covered in paint and sweat—and honestly, more than a few stains from your lunch too—so you sit down on the floor, trying to pretend like you didn’t hear the sticky sound that it made as it stuck to your pants. You reach for the nearest box, and find that it’s full of nothing but old magazines, which you scoff at and immediately push into an empty corner, dubbing it the “trash” pile. You were already quite certain that most of if not all the boxes would be making their way to that very same corner from the looks of it. 

It’s almost nice once you get into a routine. You rifle through a box, pulling out perhaps one or two trinkets you could donate, an old shirt here and there that isn’t in bad shape, and you even find a pristine lamp in one box, still covered in the plastic that it came in. 

You aren’t even halfway through the boxes when you grunt to yourself as you drag a particularly large and heavy box out from underneath what used to be your dinner table, falling flat on your ass as you lose your grip and fly backwards. “Ow,” you mutter to yourself, as you relent and open the box right there, giving up on trying to get it completely out from under the table. Much to your surprise—it’s a box full of old records, and a majority of the weight seemed to come from the record player that was right on top of all the stacked vinyls. You cringe a little, hoping that none of them are damaged, and you exhale loudly as you set the record player on top of the table and fumble with the cord for a moment before plugging it in and watching it start to spin, without any music playing. You wipe the sweat from your forehead with a dust-covered forearm before wiping your hands on your filthy pants and starting to flip through the plentiful choices you have in front of you on the floor. You can see lots of your parents’ old favorites—when they weren’t being absolute shit parents to you, they would let you look through the box, and then list their favorites. You would always pick one of their favorites, just to make them happy. And most of the time it would, for a little while. 

This time, you can’t help but select one of your mom’s favorites, and you silently slide the old vinyl out of its protective paper cover before carefully setting it down on the player, the needle silently spinning for just a moment before the song starts to play. It’s warped now—from so many uses or carelessness, you don’t know—but it’s that same song, and you can’t help but sink into a chair and just watch that black record go round and round in a circle as the lyrics you know by heart start to weave their way into your ears. 

“That was her favorite one.” 

No. You can feel it—that very same presence that was there on the day that you and Taehyun first explored the house—it’s cold, and it makes your throat dry up, and you feel stuck to the chair you’re sitting in. 

“You used to play it all the time.” 

“Who are you?” you whisper, shielding your face from said presence, even though its voice is coming from behind you. 

“You really don’t remember me then, do you?” The voice is mournful now—or maybe mournful isn’t the right word. It’s almost whiny. 

“Obviously not,” you hiss, starting to get annoyed for some reason. 

“Can you look at me then?” his energy matches yours, exasperation clear in his nasally tone. 

The fear has all but dissolved from your body now that you have braved an attempt at a conversation with this thing, so you turn your upper body around to face it straight-on, and there’s no hiding the shock that spreads across your face as you stare down the presence—no, the ghost—that you know all too well. 

“I knew you’d remember me if you saw me,” he said, “I haven’t forgotten you, though.” 

You hold a grimy hand to your forehead, breathing heavily as you think about it some more. Of course you knew this idiot—he was one of the only solaces in your entire childhood, apart from Taehyun, though he came into it at a much later time. Now that you think about it, this ghost was the only thing that came to mind when you tried to come up with any sort of happy memory before the age of fourteen or so. 

“Yeonjun, I…” you trail off. Saying his name alone was too foreign on your lips; the way it rolled off your tongue left a bitter taste in your mouth. You couldn’t finish what you wanted to say, because to be quite honest, you weren’t sure at all what you were going to say. Sorry I forgot about you for like a decade, even though you were the only friend I had for forever. How’ve you been? How was it hanging with my parents as they withered away and died? 

There was probably a way you could have sugar coated all of that, but you didn’t think about it too much as he just shrugged and looked off to the side. “Time passes differently for me, remember? I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you—even more so since we last talked, but I’m used to being alone, so it’s okay.” 

You feel even worse after he says that, and he only makes it worse as he corrects himself. “Oh, wait. You don’t remember, right. Well you see, I’m pretty sure that ghosts, especially ones that have been dead for a while, process time differently than humans—” 

“How did they die?” you blurt out, interrupting his rambling. 

Yeonjun freezes, hands stopping their visual explanation along with the vocal part. You watch his fingers twitch before he lowers them, and he kicks at the floor and sighs, loudly. “Come on. It’s been like ten years, and that’s the first thing you say to me?” 

“What am I supposed to say?” you ask, feeling guilty but defensive all at once. “What the fuck am I supposed to say to a ghost? A real, literal fucking ghost.” 

“I don’t know, man! I’m not like—stupid. You could ask me how I’ve been, what the hell I’ve been up to all this time, literally anything about me instead of your fucking parents!” He’s yelling now, his voice bouncing off the dirty walls, and you crumple up, limbs folding in, head tucked close to your chest, as he shouts. But he lowers his voice after that, and runs a hand through his hair, which looks no different than it did all those years ago. “I mean, fuck, dude. You were the only thing I had. And then you left. And now you’re back and—and you don’t even remember me. You don’t remember shit.” 

“I’m sorry.” It’s a shit apology, but Yeonjun seems to accept it as he chuckles bitterly. 

“I am too. But… I know it’s not your fault and—and I’m really happy that you got out of here when you did. I’m even glad that you had that guy with you when you first came back, I know that he was important to you back then.” 

“You mean Taehyun?” 

“Yeah. I remember the day you met him, and you were so excited that you had a real, live human friend for once.” Yeonjun shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and sighs. “I think that was when we slowly stopped… talking.” 

Of course, you don’t remember that much yet. You hardly remember Yeonjun himself—you just know that he’s important. For whatever reason. But you slowly nod as if you remember, but it doesn’t fool him and one side of his lips twist up in a bitter sort of smirk. 

“You don’t have to pretend like you remember, okay? Maybe it’ll come back to you. Or maybe it won’t, but either way, it’s fine. I’m just glad you didn’t yell at me and run this time.” 

“Sorry,” you say again. “I was really scared last time.” 

“You’re not scared now?” 

“No, I remember you now. Not—not a lot—but I know that you were important to me, so… I guess you can’t be too bad.” 

Yeonjun finally cracks a smile. “Damn straight,” he says, and the subtle twitch of his pursed upper lip sends a line of fire down your spine as you remember something so distant yet so tangible—and you can’t help but sigh with nostalgia. 

“Really? Iris again?” 

Your fingers fumble with the paper slip that your mother’s favorite record hides within as you jump at the sound of Yeonjun’s voice. “Yeonjun!” you scold, “I almost dropped it!” 

Yeonjun chuckles and floats down to the floor, so close to touching the beige carpet that his semi-translucent shirt nearly drags across it. If it wasn’t for his inability to collide with solid objects, he would have been laying belly-down on the floor across from you to maintain eye contact, seeing as how short you were when you knelt down to rifle through the box of records beneath the coffee table. “Come on, sugar,” he drawls, “it’s your sixth birthday. You should be able to choose what song you wanna hear.” 

Your little fingers tighten around the record, now half-slipped out of the case. “I don’t know…” you say doubtfully, hesitancy laced throughout your voice. “I’m never allowed to choose the music, you know that.” 

“It’s your special day!” he exclaims, floating upwards and spreading his arms out, as if he were taking in the sunshine on a lovely summer afternoon. “If not now, then when?” 

There’s something about Yeonjun that makes you want to listen to him. Not in the way that you feel with your parents—no, they’re demanding in a way that makes your stomach hurt when you’re around them, even if you’ve done everything right—but in an entirely new way. You know that he doesn’t have any malicious intent. Yeonjun just likes having fun with you, and there’s so little fun to be found around the house. And after all, he’s right. 

It is your birthday. 

So you set your mother’s favorite record aside, placing it carefully on top of the coffee table so that no one steps on it accidentally, and your stubby little kid fingers gingerly flip through the rest of the records before you settle on your favorite. 

It’s one of the newest ones in the box, with undented corners that are still sharp enough to cut you if you aren’t too careful, and no fingerprints all over the shiny cover. Your aunt bought it for you and told you to only listen to it when your parents weren’t around, so that you didn’t get on their nerves. It’s loud and punk-y and it makes you feel like a real big kid. It’s the music that you hear all of the older kids in your neighborhood talk about when they walk down your street and their loud voices carry in the wind up to your open window. 

There’s a rush in your head, and you swear you can hear the blood gushing through your veins with anticipation as your hands shake when you place the record carefully onto the machine. It starts spinning, and you drop the needle in just the correct place. 

Funky instrumentals and the loud, clear voice of one of your favorite singers travels through your ears as you clap in delight, and Yeonjun starts dancing in a silly sort of way to make you laugh. “See?” he said over the music, “isn’t this nice?” 

But before you could reply, you felt all of the happiness melt out of your body and disappear into the ground beneath you as you felt a large hand on your shoulder. Yeonjun’s eyes travel from where they met with yours, to the intimidatingly large figure that’s behind you. 

“Why don’t we take that out now,” says your father, in a voice that is terrifyingly calm. 

You don’t want to even look back at him for a second, so you quickly turn off the machine and pick up the record, trying to quickly put it back so that your mother’s favorite music can be put back on and it’ll be like nothing ever happened—but your father snatches the record from your hands before you can finish putting it back in the case, and you watch with shock as he snaps it in half with his hands. Little black plastic flecks fly through the air as he drops the halves onto the floor and uses his foot to crush them even further beyond fixing. 

“That’ll be you next time,” he says quietly, before walking away and disappearing down the dark hall to his room. 

You sit there in silence with Yeonjun as the first verse of Iris starts playing yet again. 

Well, maybe you didn’t sigh with nostalgia. Maybe it was something more like rumination—something that left a bitter taste on your tongue. Either way, you remembered something about Yeonjun, and that alone made you crack a weak smile as Iris continued to warble in the background of your reunion. 

— 

It’s mid-August before you try to ask Yeonjun about your parents again. You don’t really know why you want to know so bad—it’s a bit morbid, really—but you feel a pull in your chest that won’t go away. It’s similar to the pull that brought you back to the house and back to Yeonjun in the first place, and that is why you decide to ask him just once more as you’re scrubbing the kitchen floor. 

You’re on your hands and knees, working away at the sticky, dusty floor, and you already know that the knees of your jeans are completely soaked through from the way the denim is sticking to your skin. You’re using a sponge—one that was once a bright yellow, and is now an odd gray—to rinse away the sticky residue that clings to the linoleum. “You missed a spot there,” Yeonjun says, pointing to an uncleaned spot next to the refrigerator, and you roll your eyes and huff as you sit back on your ankles, wiping away the sweat from your brow with one soapy arm. 

“I know you can’t technically help, but you’re really getting on my nerves,” you say, tossing the grimy sponge into the bucket of soapy water. 

“I’m keeping you company!” he exclaims, “would you rather be alone?” 

“No,” you say, sulking. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you then, just for a moment. The only sound is the faint popping of bubbles in your bucket that sits beside you, until you take a deep breath and decide to just go for it. “Yeonjun,” you start, “if it’s okay… could you tell me what happened to my parents?” 

Yeonjun stills. You watch his eyes lower and his mouth twitch before he sighs aloud. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asks, “I thought you didn’t care about what happened to them.” 

“I don’t care about them,” you say quickly, “but… I just want to know.” 

Yeonjun settles right above the counter, floating just an inch or so above the grimy granite, and crosses his legs, leaning back as if he could use the cabinets as a backrest. “Well,” he says, “I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure it was the smoking that was the final straw.” 

The small white and blue box of cigarettes sits in front of you on the coffee table. It’s about half-empty, half of the cancer sticks inside smoked away and settled in your parents’ lungs. You know that smoking is bad for you—you’d known ever since the second grade when there was a whole presentation about it at school, and a few of the kids had figured out that that bitter smell of tobacco was, in fact, coming from you. Thus, you endured a year and a half of kids teasing you about smoking, and when you protested and said that it was your parents that smoked and not you, it really only got worse—because for some reason, the kids found it comedic that you came from somewhat of a broken home. And worse, for some reason, even though this was completely, one hundred percent your parents’ fault, you still felt an urge to defend them. You lost count of how many times you pretended that your mom packed you your lunches, just like all the other kids’ moms did, when you were the one that had woken up before the sun had risen just to put together a sandwich and write a little note. “Have a great day, I love you!” the little pink post-it said, signed “Mom” with a flourish. You tried to mimic the way your mother’s handwriting looped and curved, how there were two little loops inside the ‘o’ because she always half-assed her cursive, and it ended up somewhere between print and script. Or, how you pretended that your father was to take you to the zoo the weekend after Shin Ryujin bragged that her whole family went on a trip to the aquarium. 

None of it was ever true. And as you stared at that little box, all dented from being carried around in your mother’s purse, in your father’s pocket, you felt a rush of hatred towards it, more hate and negativity than your little self had ever felt before. 

You snatched up the box, almost crushing—no, for sure crushing the cigarettes left inside—and you shoved it underneath the couch, huffing as you balled your hands into fists. 

“What are you doing?” Yeonjun hissed, “they’re gonna go crazy looking for those!” 

“Let them!” you whisper-shout, “I hate cigarettes! I hate how they smell, I hate how people think I use them, and I hate how my parents like them more than they like me!” You run past Yeonjun and towards the staircase, bare feet thumping against the stairs softly as your mother briskly walks past those same stairs, wondering aloud where her cigarettes were. 

“Where the hell are they?” you hear her shout, and you feel guilt tug at your heart as you squeeze your pillow to your chest. Her footsteps approach, less than a minute after you closed the door behind you, and you side-eye Yeonjun as he stares back at you helplessly. “Did you touch my cigarettes?” she asks as soon as she swings open the door, with such force that the doorknob slams into the wall and leaves a mark in the white paint. 

You’ve always been bad at lying, and this is why your mother grabs you by the hair and tosses you across the room, screaming that she just needed one to get through the rest of the day, and now she was fucked, absolutely fucked, all because of you. 

And all that Yeonjun did was watch, unable to help you fight back. 

It wasn’t like you wanted to anyways. You lay there on the floor where you landed once you were thrown, with silent tears trickling down your cheeks as your mother screamed at you, flecks of saliva spilling from her angry lips. 

“So… when did you start smoking?” 

“Shut up. I know you’re judging me.” You breathe out a cloud of smoke and rub at your tired eyes with your fingers that still smell like cleaning supplies. 

“It’s literally what killed your mom,” he said defensively, “I just told you that.” 

“Then let it kill me too.” 

Yeonjun doesn’t reply, and you can feel his eyes on you as you sit on the stairs that lead up to the hell-house that you know you have to finish cleaning, puffing away at the one thing that’s never let you down before. 

When you look back to ask Yeonjun why no one bothered to check on your dad after your mom passed, you drop the half-smoked cigarette. 

He’s gone. 

SEPTEMBER

September brings a slight chill in the air, an ever-so subtle reminder that summer is now over—technically, not officially. You thought that by finishing the ground floor before summer ended, you’d be off the hook for the colder months, but once you managed to break down the door to the basement again and find the hidden handle that led to the attic you realized you were kinda-sorta fucked. There was no way you’d finish this any time soon. 

After the day that Yeonjun disappeared on you, he’d only appeared every now and then, his voice weaker and more mature now, losing that childish Peter Pan-esque edge that you now realize he’d always harbored. It was like he’d sobered up, realized the weight of what was happening, almost. But he was still Yeonjun after all—which you now understood was a good thing, after recalling more and more fond memories with him. 

He’d guided you around and into all of the boxes that were stuffed against the wall in your living room and the kitchen, pushed up against the sides of the hallway, hidden away underneath both the kitchen and bathroom sinks, and you realized that even though you’d said you wished he would stop annoying you, the company was actually quite nice. When Yeonjun wasn’t making fun of you or berating you for smoking, he was good at holding a conversation. It was almost like you hadn’t been apart for over ten years, almost like he was a real, live person—your friend, that wasn’t a dead guy that inhabited your childhood home. Multiple times you caught yourself thinking that you should introduce him to Taehyun, that the two of them would get along quite well, before remembering what happened when they actually “met” that first and last time. It was bittersweet, remembering that Yeonjun couldn’t be seen by most other people, and even if they could, in fact, see him, there was a very limited number of things you could do with him, seeing as how he couldn’t leave the house or make physical contact with anyone or anything. 

And once the ground floor was cleared out, sparkling like it was almost new, he was the one who showed you which kitchen drawer the key to the basement was kept in, almost identical to the key to the front door. You finally got around to getting a key ring for the two, even putting two charms on the ring alongside the old keys—one, a shitty little beaded trinket that you remembered making back in elementary school, and two, a little plastic ghost that you found at the dollar store. The day that you got it you showed it to Yeonjun, shaking it in front of his face as he glared at you. “It reminds me of you!” you said playfully as he sulked. 

“I don’t look like that,” he insisted, “they’ve got it all wrong! What lame ass ghost looks like that?” 

But you named it Yeonjun anyways, much to his distaste, and he eventually, begrudgingly, accepted it. 

It’s a warmer day when you finally return to begin clearing out the basement, and you aren’t quite sure what to expect. Yeonjun had told you that it was pretty much the same situation as the ground floor, but a lot of them were opened and just filled with junk that was all garbage-worthy, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to get through even though there were plenty of them. You show up to the house whistling a tune that you can’t quite place, swinging your keys in one hand and carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies in the other. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” 

“Stop trying to scare me.” You glare at Yeonjun’s head that’s poking through the front door—now repainted once again, properly this time. 

“Just trying to have a little fun,” he says, lips curling up into a smile. You can’t help but smile too as you roll your eyes—you’d missed his silly side. It had disappeared a little after he saw you smoking. “Are you starting the basement today?” he asks, floating beside you as you shut the door behind you and walk down the hall to the basement door. 

“Yep,” you sigh, “and according to you… I have a lot to get through.” 

“I’ll be keeping you company, don’t worry doll,” he says, saluting at you. 

“If only you could help clean too,” you say drily, inserting the key into the large, golden lock and twisting. The door creaks open on its own once you take out the key, and you fumble around for the lightswitch, which you remember is right outside the door so that you can’t control the lights once you’re down there. 

The lights switch on, yellow and flickering, and a faint buzzing fills your ears, the effort of working apparently a bit much for the old wiring. “Ready?” he asks, following your gaze, looking down the long, steep staircase. 

“I guess so,” you reply, unease creeping into your mind. 

To be quite fair—you didn’t know anyone that would enjoy a creepy basement, especially one in an old house like yours—even during the day. The bare wooden stairs are slippery with dust, and you make sure to hold on tightly to the railing for safety even though that too is filthy. Cobwebs and little piles of dirt and miscellaneous crumbs gather in the corners of each individual stair, and you keep an eye out for spiders or other little creatures that might be roaming the area, thinking that it was abandoned by humans and therefore the perfect home for them. The old wood creaks loudly, and you worry that it might actually give underneath your weight, but each stair holds, and you finally make it down to the nightmare-inducing basement. If not nightmare-inducing for all of the horrible memories that were starting to come back to you, then simply because of the sheer filth. Yeonjun had failed to warn you of just how thick the layers of dust and grime were. 

“When was the last time anyone was down here?” you ask, coughing as you stir up particles by simply walking over to the nearest pile of boxes. You wave your hand in front of you, desperately trying to fan away anything that was threatening to invade your lungs. 

“I was here just yesterday!” he protested, before wrinkling his nose and backtracking. “Oh, you mean someone living…” You nod awkwardly, placing the bucket of cleaning supplies on the floor as you start to open up the closest box, which you realize quickly is just full of old shopping receipts. “Man… it’s been years, then. They stopped coming down here once they realized there was no more room to hoard shit. Everything here is at least a few years old, so beware of food.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you at the last part, and you chuckle, taking it as a joke until you find a box of canned goods so old that several of the containers have exploded, leaking rancid juice all over the box and even onto the floor. It’s long since dried up, but it’s still sticky to the touch, and you gagged at the stench. 

“I don’t even know what this originally was,” you complain, tossing the entire box into a large, heavy-duty garbage bag, “those idiots ripped off all the labels.” 

“Maybe… beans?” Yeonjun guesses, though it’s unclear. 

“Whatever, I’d prefer to live in ignorant bliss,” you declared, moving to the next box. This one, unlike most of the others, is taped shut, and you have to use the basement key to rip it open, having forgotten a pocket knife or any other tool that you could use to cut through something, especially something as tough as old duct tape. “Oh, Christ…” you mutter under your breath, as you pull out the trinket inside and hold it to the flickering ceiling light, “Jun, come here. Do you remember this?” 

“How could I forget? You talked to it like it was real even though I was right here,” he grouched, after floating over curiously and realizing what you were holding. 

“It has a name,” you sing, waving the little doll around. 

Yeonjun stays silent, floating beside another wall of boxes. His expression looks almost pained. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, lowering the doll. 

“You do remember why you named it what you did, right?” he asks. His voice is strained. 

You sit down on the floor, ignoring the filth, and stare at the doll in your hands. It’s threadbare, grayed, and smelly now. It was all of those things back then too, but once you say its name you understand why Yeonjun is so upset. 

“That isn’t even a clever insult.” You wipe your eyes and stare up at Yeonjun, whose arms are crossed as he stares down at you. You’re sitting on your bedroom floor, crying to yourself about the assholes at school that just won’t shut the fuck up about the way you smell—hence your new nickname, Smoky. “It’s actually laughable how stupid it is,” he scoffs, and a particularly loud sniffle from you prompts him to settle down closer to the floor so that he can look you in the eye. “Come on, it’s not that bad.” 

“It could be anything,” you exclaim, “it’s just the fact that they use a name at all to call me out and stuff—it makes me feel singled out. It makes me feel like shit.” 

“Don’t—don’t say that word,” Yeonjun says softly, “come on—want to play some music? Or we could—” 

“No,” you interrupt, standing up and turning away from him. “I just want to be alone.” 

You hear Yeonjun sigh. It’s deep, and long, and you can tell you’ve hurt his feelings. You feel guilt pooling in your stomach as he tells you he’d be around if you changed your mind—he was only trying to help, after all. But you can’t help it. You really just want to be alone. You climb into your bed and curl up into a little ball on top of your covers, staring at your old gray stuffed cat sitting next to your pillow. 

His name is Smoky, too. 

You slowly reach out to pick him up, and then you’re holding him close to your chest and sobbing. It’s stupid, and you feel like a goddamn idiot. It’s just a word, it’s just something that people are using to get under your skin, and you’re letting them. It sounded silly when you explained it to Yeonjun, and it sounds silly when you repeat it in your head. But it doesn’t sound silly when it counts—when someone yells it out at you when you’re walking down the hallway, or when you have to work with someone in class. And that is something that you can’t make sense of, and you know Yeonjun will never understand. 

You’re shaken from your pity party when your door slams open—the door knob hits the wall in the same place it always does, further chipping away at the paint. “Are you really in bed right now?” your mother asks sharply, and you sit up immediately, wiping away your tears. She stands there in the dark hallway, one hand curled around the door knob and the other resting on her hip in a judgemental stance. “I asked you to clean the kitchen this morning.” Just like it always is when it comes to her anger, it’s quiet at first. 

“I forgot,” you say drily, not in the mood to do any sort of cleaning—or be screamed at by your mother. But you instantly regret your tone when you see a fire alight in her eyes at this opportunity to punish you. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “I’ll do it now.” 

“No,” she says, “you’re going to clear out the basement instead, and you can stay there tonight while you think about what sort of idiot would sass their mother. You really think that’s something we’re gonna allow? Do you like being punished or something?” 

“No,” you say meekly. You start to stand up, but it’s too slow for your mother, and she grabs you roughly by your shirt and starts pulling you down the hall. All you can hear is the sound of her heels clicking against the floor and your blood pumping in your ears. You almost trip over your own feet as you’re pulled down the stairs, and your ankle rolls as your mother sharply turns a corner. You grit your teeth instead of crying out. 

Your mother is breathing heavily as she fumbles with the lock for a moment before pulling open the door roughly, and she jerks her head, motioning towards it. “Go.” 

For some reason, that’s worse than if she were the one to push you. 

You step forward shakily, but with your bad ankle, you can’t catch yourself, and you tumble down the first half of the stairs, landing with a thud. You’re facing the wall, but you watch the light leave the room as your mother slams the door. 

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun’s alarmed voice asks, and you suck in a deep, shaky breath as you push yourself up into a sitting position, shaking. 

“What do you think?” you ask. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you just shake your head. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

The door opens once more, and you look up to the light, seeing your mother. Since the light is coming from behind her, her entire front is in the shadows, and you can’t read her facial expression. She’s holding something in her hand. You watch silently as she holds it up, looking at it for a moment before throwing it down at you. It lands in front of you, and she slams the door again. This time, you hear the lock click before she walks away. 

You can’t see anything, but you grope around for whatever it was she threw down. Your fingers brush against something soft and fuzzy, and you know what it is as soon as you pull it to your chest. Little Smoky, still damp from your tears. 

Smoky never sees the light of day again. 

“Poor guy,” is all you say as you stare at the limp cat in your hands. He smells like everything else in the basement now, reeking of mildew and rot. You wonder how you forgot about him, but then you feel guilty as you remember how you somehow forgot about a whole person—a whole ghost—and you slowly set him down. 

“So you remember,” Yeonjun confirms. 

“I’m remembering a lot these days,” you say honestly. “It’s—it’s shit that I haven’t thought about in years. A bunch of repressed memories.” 

“Is it hard?” he asks, “remembering, I mean.” 

“Most of it… yeah, I guess you could say it’s hard. It just reminds me of how miserable I was before I had my own life.” You smile, a little sadly. “But… that also makes me much more grateful for my happiness now, you know? I never thought I could be happy, and I proved myself wrong. It’s a good feeling.” 

“Yeah?” Yeonjun asks, looking up at the horizontal windows that line the tops of your basement walls. “Can you tell me what it’s like out there now?” His voice sounds a little distant, foggy. “What’s changed?” 

“That Thai place I told you about closed down,” you said, “and now that old store that used to sell handmade baby clothes is a Starbucks. There’s a new shopping mall, but everything there sucks and is way too overpriced.” 

But that doesn’t satisfy Yeonjun, and you know it. 

“The people—the people are still the same, Jun. Really. That’s partially why it was so hard to come back here and see everyone. It’s like I went back in time ten years. It’s like I’m still stuck here.” You swallow hard. “But really. I promise that nothing has really changed since you last saw it. Towns like these never do.” 

Yeonjun seems to shake off whatever far-away thought had overtaken him and clears his throat. “Right, yeah. Thanks.” He hides his face from you as he turns to examine another stack of boxes. “There’s a shit ton of coupons in here.” 

Your heart thumps painfully as you watch your friend try to hide his grief from you, and you feel bad for not thinking about what you said more. While working through your own feelings, you forgot to consider how Yeonjun felt, after all these years alone. 

“Really?” you ask, your voice wobbling as you start to cry for him. “Let me come see.” 

— 

Unlike the basement, you were never allowed in the attic. 

The attic was not a place you were forced into as a punishment. 

Because the attic is gorgeous, you realize. 

It’s by far the cleanest room in the house, though still covered in a thick layer of dust. However, it’s easy to sweep away and collect in a dustpan since there’s no sticky residue that it clings to, unlike the multiple layers of grease and other substances that had accumulated on the basement floor after years of neglect. 

Cleaning the windows first was a smart choice, allowing natural sunlight to peek through the panes of bubbled glass, casting wavy shadows on the hardwood floor. Indeed, it’s especially beautiful in the late afternoon sunset, when the rays are bright and warm and golden, the entire room looking like it was doused in honey and maple syrup and everything sweet and thick. It’s then that you don’t mind spending long hours there at the house, forgetting all of the bad that went on behind closed doors. For in the attic, in that sweet sugary autumn light, it’s almost like you can imagine a different childhood in that house, one that was happy and sweet—one that you wanted to savor on your tongue, instead of swallow past as soon as possible. 

Yeonjun flutters in and out of the room, making passive snarky remarks as you pull out vintage photo albums and memories that you hardly recognize. Really, you hardly even recognize them as something that your parents would want to keep around, not finding it to match the personalities that you knew so unfortunately well. They never wanted to make memories with you, not good ones anyways.

As you dig through old photo frames and trinkets, you realize there’s a surprising amount that you find intriguing, that you want to keep for your own. Naturally, you throw out all of the actual belongings, not caring about your mother’s high school yearbook or your dad’s old collection of Kangol hats. 

“What’s that?” Yeonjun asks, appearing next to you as you use your thumb to rub dust off of an old vase, revealing intricate hand-painted patterns beneath the layers of dust. 

“Something that belonged to my mom, I think,” you say, admiring it before setting it aside in a box, which is growing quite full of things that you want to keep. Yeonjun’s gaze falls on the box, and his expression hardens a little. “What?” you ask, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I wish I could come with you,” he says, finally, after a few moments of awkward, expectant silence. You feel a lump form in your throat as Yeonjun stares down at the box of things, his expression conflicted. “I—I know I can’t, but… I’m really going to miss you, when you’re done here,” he whispers, a crestfallen look on his face. 

Your voice feels thick with emotion as you speak, but it comes out sounding almost monotonous. “I wish you could come with me too,” you say, even though you’re not sure how you would fare in life with a ghost tagging around constantly. Even if it’s Yeonjun. 

He smiles, a little bitterly—you can tell that he’s jealous of your life, of the fact that you get to live and breathe and walk around. “No, you don’t,” he replies, sighing. “And I get it. Really, it wouldn’t be right… to hold you back like that.” 

“You wouldn’t be holding me back,” you say, immediately, even though you know it’s not true—it was your initial thought. 

“Be honest, okay? I’m not going to be offended. And even if I was, it’s not like I can do anything about it,” he says, chuckling now, his good-natured attitude returning. 

“You’re already haunting my house,” you say, managing a small chuckle. 

“Hey, it wasn’t always your house!” he retorts, laughing, but then both of your smiles fade, slowly. You’d assumed, of course, that Yeonjun had lived here before you and your parents moved in, but you never really thought about how or why he died here. You’d never asked either, thinking it was probably rude to ask a ghost how they died. 

“But, uh… it’s yours now, of course. And it was yours for much longer than it was mine.” 

“Was it?” you ask, furrowing your brow at him. 

Yeonjun shifts uncomfortably, looking away. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say quickly, feeling guilty, “but… I guess, I do wonder.” You bite your tongue, hoping that wasn’t the wrong thing to say. But Yeonjun just sighs, and then looks up at you with a small, understanding smile. 

“Remember what I said about not needing to hold back?” he asks, smiling crookedly. You again manage a small smile. 

He bites his lower lip, running his tongue over it as he thinks. “I don’t know much,” he begins, slowly, “so I hope you’re not expecting details… but I do remember living here with my dad, long before you and your family moved in. I don’t remember how or when I died, but I remember a few things about what I was like as a person. That’s mostly it.” 

“What were you like?” you ask, leaning back against a stack of boxes and looking at him, a soft smile on your face. You can’t help it—he does look pretty in this light, translucent and almost silvery in the waning sunlight. 

“Like this,” he says, grinning, “just as handsome and perfect.” 

You roll your eyes, and for a moment you fully believe that he’s a solid, real person and you can reach over and playfully shove him to make him stop being annoying. Your muscles twitch as you almost move to do it. “Really,” you say, smiling, “what were you like?” 

His smile fades slightly, and he clears his throat. “Well… actually, I wasn’t as great. I was kind of a jerk, in school and everything. I had a lot of friends that were just as horrible as me, and we would go around and act like we owned the world.” He wrinkles his nose at the memory, displeased. “It’s really embarrassing to admit now…” 

“So you were one of those people,” you say, unable to hold back your smug smile. “I knew it. You gave off that energy.” 

Yeonjun groans. “Take that back. Please. I swear, I’ve changed.” 

You again resist the urge to nudge him playfully. “I’m just messing with you. You’re nothing like that now,” you say, chuckling. 

A cool breeze drifts over your bare arms, and you shiver, looking over at the open window. Night has fallen by now, and the warm syrupy light is completely gone. The room is only lit by a small lamp in the corner of the attic, with darkness creeping in every corner and crevice. Yeonjun looks truly silvery and translucent now in the moonlight, his features beautiful and sharp in the cool air. 

“I should probably go,” you say, after a little while. 

Yeonjun’s face doesn’t change for a moment, like he’s frozen in time, but then he just nods, so slightly that it barely looks like he moved. 

Without any further acknowledgement, you stand up, dusting off the seat of your pants, and leave Yeonjun amongst the last few boxes in the attic that you couldn’t fit into your car. As you lock your doors and sigh, feeling the weariness settling in your bones from the long day of work, you pull out your phone as a queer feeling overcomes you. Though you’ve never felt the urge to before, you’re suddenly incredibly curious about Yeonjun’s past. 

Is it an invasion of privacy? Perhaps. But like he said—he was already dead. 

Quickly typing out a search of his name and the general area, you’re surprised when dozens of articles flood in, all dating back to the early 2000s. And then, you see it. The words flash before your eyes in stark contrast, the images only adding to the disturbances, with flashes of red in a dilapidated, neglected house. 

FATHER KILLS SON. MURDER-SUICIDE. DEVASTATING LOSS TO THE COMMUNITY. WE MOURN THE LOSS OF CHOI YEONJUN, 18-YEAR OLD STAR FOOTBALL PLAYER WITH A FULL-RIDE TO AN IVY LEAGUE.

Your phone clatters to the floor of your car, slipping between the seats and leaving you in complete darkness. For a moment, you sit there in stunned silence before cursing under your breath and shoving your hand between the seats, feeling for the smooth screen of your phone. 

You find it quickly, and see a flash of an image before exiting out of your search. An incredibly dirty and dingy room, which you now recognize to be your bedroom, with a blood stained mattress and other dark questionable stains on the once-white sheets and on the floors below. 

OCTOBER 

Eight. Eight times. 

That’s how many times you’ve returned to the house since you found out how Yeonjun died, each time riddled with anxiety about having to face him and pretending like you don’t know the truth. Like you don’t have the answer that he’s been searching for all of these years. 

But each time, he failed to appear. You finished cleaning the attic with no company, and it ended up being a much lengthier process than you originally assumed—mostly because you found your father’s birth certificate shoved into a random folder with pages and pages of expired coupons, and you nearly threw the entire thing away without realizing, which resulted in you feeling the need to go through all of the trash again, just to make sure. 

Naturally, there were no other important documents in the trash that you’d already collected—and it ended up being a massive waste of your time. But it sent a wave of relief through your tired body, letting you know that nothing important had gotten tossed by accident. 

After clearing out the attic, you thought that Yeonjun might come back—if not to talk to you and be your friend, then perhaps to see the progress on the house he inhabits? Yet, nothing happened. Nothing as you finished sweeping the floors, nothing as you moved the last few boxes out of the attic and either into your car or the garbage, and nothing when you stand by the front door for a moment, your hand hesitating before opening it and leaving—hoping that he would come to say goodbye. 

It wasn’t the end—you still had your own bedroom to clean out. It was what you’d been dreading; both because it was a cesspool of bad memories in your own life, and also because of what you found out about Yeonjun’s past, and what had happened to him in that room specifically. It still sent a chill down your spine to think about the room, which was painted with dark red and other dark stains—a horrifying reminder of the crime that was committed there. You try your hardest to recall if you ever saw any stains or any signs of the disturbing event, but your mind comes up blank. 

You know that the only solution, the only way to ease your mind, is to go back to the house and finally finish what you started. Just as it were so back in July, after you were plagued with nightmares upon your first visit back home, after so many years. 

On a crisp autumn day in mid October, you return to the house, knowing that this would be one of, if not the last time. Just before you drove over, you’d been chewing your nails nervously as you spoke to Taehyun over the phone—you needed some last minute encouragement. 

“Summer’s over, you know. What about that job offer again?” Taehyun asks, his voice muffled over the phone—he was driving to work, and on the way he passed under a tunnel which always made his service choppy. 

“I got an extension, until the end of the year. They actually came to me about it, because they’re having a fresh start at the company come the new year,” you explain, as you pack up your cleaning supplies, preparing to head over to the house. “They said a lot of applicants dropped because of the sudden change in timeframe, but it worked out perfectly for me. Now I have until November to wrap everything up.” 

“Not December?” 

“Well, my lease for my new apartment in the city starts in December…” you trail off, realizing this leaves you with the rest of October and November, to finish cleaning, take photos, and actually put the house up for sale. The cleaning was just the first step—and you were lagging. 

“… Right.” 

You could hear the doubt in Taehyun’s voice, so clear that it made you squirm with shame. He was probably thinking that you should have hired someone—probably someone like god damn Seo Changbin—to just do the dirty work for you, instead of making yourself suffer through it. 

“I only have one room left to clear out before I can officially put the house up for sale,” you say defensively, picking up on Taehyun’s attitude. 

“I believe in you. You know that, right?” he asks gently, his tone different now—more pity, you think. 

“I know,” you say, trying not to be awkward. 

“It’s not easy. You’re doing a great job,” he says, softly. His voice crackles towards the end of the sentence, his service beginning to cut out more. “Hey, I’ll call you after my shift, alright? Let me know how cleaning the last room goes.” Through his spotty service and choppy voice, you can sense hesitation. You know he remembers Yeonjun too, but you haven’t mentioned him since the first day. Like your therapist, he probably assumed it was some sort of trauma response after all. 

“Alright. Have fun with the elderly,” you say, cracking a smile. 

“You know I won’t. That one old man keeps yelling at me because of the length of the individual blades of grass. He should just be happy I didn’t accidentally run anyone over,” he scoffs, before chuckling softly. 

“They really should have hired someone more qualified. And more empathetic,” you tease, hanging up as you hear Taehyun start to protest. Smiling as you pack up the last few things you need, you head out to your car, the cool autumn breeze whistling through the crisp branches, loosening colorful leaves that fall down like raindrops around you. You shove the box of cleaning supplies into your trunk and slam it shut, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting your car. Loud, grungy music plays over the radio, one of your old favorites that makes your heart almost ache with nostalgia, despite the less-than-depressing lyrics and tune. 

Which leaves you here—picking up the box of cleaning supplies and balancing it on your hip as you use one hand to grapple for the trunk, slamming it shut securely as you set the box down, breathing a heavy sigh. Luckily, it’s cooled down since July, and you no longer find yourself soaked in your own sweat from completing the smallest tasks—something that was purely impossible during the heat waves that torture your area during the summer months. 

Picking up the box again, you readjust your grip to make it easier to carry as you make your way down the small path. The lawn is freshly trimmed, thanks to Taehyun, who was willing to do the lawn work all summer as long as it meant he didn’t have to actually step foot inside the house, and as long as he could speed home afterwards—this was what told you he hadn’t forgotten about the incident with Yeonjun, upon their first and presumably last meeting. 

You're able to slot the big skeleton key into the brand new lock on the door and let yourself in, closing the door behind you with your foot. You trudge up the stairs step by step, making sure not to trip over your own feet and go tumbling back down. 

Finally, you reach your bedroom. You know that if you hesitate any longer you’ll never bring yourself to do it, so you just reach out and turn the doorknob, opening the time capsule of a room and entering, just as you did every day in your youth. 

Putting down the box of cleaning supplies, which had been getting steadily heavier in your arms the longer you held it, you take a deep breath, smelling the dust—there was hardly a hint of your old perfume, or your old laundry detergent—it was like a ghost inhabited this room. 

Perhaps it did—you think of Yeonjun again. 

“Yeonjun?” you speak softly, though you haven’t seen him since late September. For some reason it feels different this time as you call out for him—it feels like he really might appear. 

“You’re back. I thought you were done.” 

Yeonjun slowly passes through the door of your bedroom. He looks faint—or maybe that’s just the terrible lighting in the room from the singular flickering lightbulb, paired with the crappy natural lighting due to the setting sun. 

“You thought I’d leave without finishing the job? Am I someone that abandons things that are half-done?” you ask, trying to make your tone light and playful. Yeonjun looks up at you wearily, not returning the favor. 

“No… But it’s been so long. I thought it might be another ten years before I see you again,” he says softly. He drifts closer to you, slowly, as if it pained him to go any faster. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, your brow furrowing. “I wouldn’t leave… not without saying goodbye.” 

“Is that what you’re here to do?” His expression darkens slightly, and he turns away, crossing his arms. “Are you done here?” 

You hesitate, your hand twitching as you almost reach out to him to try and comfort him—almost. “After I clean out this room…” you begin, but trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

“You don’t have to sugarcoat things. I always knew this was coming, that you’d leave again—it was the plan from the start,” he says, harshly. “I’m not a baby either. I can take it. I know more than you think.” He flinches a little, as if he’s said something he regrets. 

More than you think? You walk around him so that you’re standing in front of him, facing him. “You’re not just talking about me cleaning the house,” you say, softly, knowingly. “How did you find out? When did you find out?” 

Yeonjun looks away, sighing. His eyes are dark and mournful when he looks back at you, his brow furrowing and his puffy lips turning down into a frown. “In one of the old newspapers in the attic… I was purposely looking through them after you laid them out that one day and left without throwing them away. I made the headline—and the front page, naturally,” he says, almost bitterly. “I didn’t want you to find out that I found out.” 

“Why? Did you think I’d be mad or something?” you ask, confused. “Is that why you disappeared?” Anger starts bubbling up in your stomach—you’re not mad that he found out about his own death, you’re mad that he disappeared on you when you have so little time left together in the first place. Didn’t he know that you were both running on limited time? Did he not say that himself? 

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to you!” he shouts, finally. This is the loudest you’ve heard him speak in a while, and it seems to take a toll on him as he folds over, breathing heavily. He looks back up at you after a moment, his eyes narrowed but sad in a way too. “You’re the only friend I’ve had since I’ve died. So you’re the only friend that I really remember, as the person—as the ghost that I am now.” His voice breaks. “It’s time for me to go, anyways. It’s not like we could have spent much more time together anyways.” 

“What do you mean, it’s time for you to go?” you ask, your lips tightening into a thin line as you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “You said—you said you didn’t know how all that moving on bullshit worked.” 

“I didn’t before, but now… I just feel it. I’m not supposed to be here any more,” he says, pleading with you. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad,” you say quickly, your voice harder than you intended it to be. Recollecting yourself, you clear your throat, only for it to be clogged again with tears and mucus as you thickly say, “I’m just not ready to say goodbye to you either.” 

Yeonjun manages a watery smile, and you lean forward to hug him, your arms simply cutting through his ghostly appearance. He smiles sadly down at you again, his fingers ghosting over the top of your head as he mimics stroking your hair soothingly. 

“I’ve never wished for anything more,” you say, fighting to keep your tears back. You don’t want to cry in front of Yeonjun, not when he’s already crying hard enough that you can see shiny trails of tears down his pale, translucent face. 

“What are you wishing for?” he asks in a choked voice. 

“You know,” you say, laughing bitterly as you fail to hold back your tears, warm salty droplets pouring down your cheeks. “Don’t be an idiot.” 

Yeonjun scoffs, looking away and crossing his arms before he looks back at you to smile through his tears once again. “And you know me. An idiot, through and through,” he says, roughly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

For a brief moment, the two of you stand there and stare at each other in silence—Yeonjun as he remembers watching you grow up, and you as you recall all of the bearable memories with your best and only friend from your youth. There’s plenty of parallels between the two of you, as much as you hate to think about it—in a way, you almost represent what Yeonjun could have had, if he’d escaped his father like you’d escaped your parents. In the same vein, he almost represents the worst thing that could have happened to you, had you not gotten out when you did. As you two look into each other’s eyes, your lips still and unmoving as you communicate through language that’s deeper than speech, more intimate and knowing than any other form of communication known to man, you feel a sudden warmth. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you feel like this is it—the end of this torture, this fucking nightmare of a life. It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders as Yeonjun gazes softly into your eyes, fueling that warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach. 

It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay. 

“I’ve always wanted to leave this house. I remember now,” he says softly. “But now, for the first time… I almost don’t want to.” 

Wiping your tears, you choke out a laugh. Yeonjun looks down at you with a tender expression, one that radiates pure adoration, as he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears pour down your cheeks, not wanting to see the picture before you while being unable to feel it, but for a moment it feels real. You can feel the slight chapped skin brush against your forehead, the weight and warmth of his hand on the top of your head, before it all disappears. 

And when you open your eyes again, Yeonjun is gone, and you’re standing alone in the bedroom you two unknowingly shared for as long as either of you could remember. 

For the first time, you are completely alone in the house you were supposed to call home, and all you can do is sit down on the hardwood floor (ignoring the faint red stains by your bed that you’d never noticed before) and breathe in deeply, finally feeling at peace. 

NOVEMBER

Clenching your jaw, you try to reach further, your arm burning as you try to sweep the last few inches of snow off of your windshield. 

The first snow had surprised the town in the middle of the night. It had been unusually warm this year, the heat wave carrying on well past summer. Though it was nearly tradition at this point for the children of your hometown to trick-or-treat the day before or after Halloween due to the expectant snowstorm the week of the holiday, this year the children had been able to run free, without even the need for a thick winter jacket on top of their costumes. 

November had proven to be quite warm as well, but then the weather switched up on you like it was the plan all along, and now you were brushing snow off of your car with a dead tree branch, struggling to reach the top few inches of your windshield because the stick you chose was just a little too short. 

Giving up after a few more minutes of bending and stretching and cramping up your arm, you toss the stick aside and massage your aching muscles before getting into your car, grumbling to yourself. At least you hadn’t left your windows open overnight, like Taehyun had reportedly done—especially because your car is stuffed to the brim with all of your belongings. Finally, you’re heading off to the city to settle into your new place before you start your new job. 

But first, you’re meeting Taehyun for coffee. 

Driving down the same familiar roads, you feel new memories playing in the place of your old ones. Instead of remembering the way your parents would argue in the car and give you a headache, you remember the times you and Taehyun drove down this road together, loudly singing your favorite songs and not caring who heard. You can’t help but smile at the memory—you’ll have to remember to ask if he ever wanted to take a road trip together, when the weather is warm again and summer comes back around. 

The creaky stairs groan under your weight as you hop up the old wood, but they still don’t collapse, even with their loud protesting. 

There, Taehyun sits at a window seat with his iced Americano, scrolling aimlessly on his phone as he waits for you. He doesn’t see you until you stop in front of the table, smiling down at him as you unwrap your scarf from around your face. Your cheeks and nose are still a little flushed and raw from the cold, despite this. 

“How’s the car?” you ask, sitting down as you remove your gloves and place them atop your folded scarf, on the table beside you. 

“She’s fine, but a bit damp. And so’s the seat of my pants,” he grimaces, reaching down to feel the slightly wet seat of his jeans. “How’s the house?” 

“Sold,” you say, crossing your arms and grinning proudly. “There were a surprising amount of offers. I guess horror fanatics don’t mind the possibility of ghostly roommates.” 

Taehyun laughs, but then he rests his face in his palm as he props his elbow up on the table, looking into your eyes. “If anyone’s into it, horror fanatics would be… but was there really a ghost? I thought it stopped appearing after that first day.” 

Outside, snow starts to fall again, the beginning of winter making itself known. The already thick blanket of white covering the landscape starts to grow even more opaque and blinding as thick snowflakes swirl down from the ash-gray sky and join the millions before them, transforming the landscape that was a healthy green field of flowers just a few months before. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, your eyes twinkling. 

“I have time,” Taehyun replies, smiling. 

The little plastic ghost on your keychain rattles softly as you put the rest of your things down to settle in, and you smile softly at the namesake of your other best friend. 

“His name was Yeonjun,” you begin. 

DIVIDER CREDIT | @firefly-graphics

© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved  ​

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ i drink your blood and i eat your skin, part eight.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x f!reader

genre: vampire au

word count: 12,4k

warnings: blood ⋆ only a mention of an animal but not described in any way!

author’s note: im so sorry for not writing again sooner, I still have some exams before me to do. though i can’t wait for my summer break, because I will finally have the time to write again and you can look forward to some other stories of mine that are almost rotting in the drafts. and btw thank you again for the amazing support <3

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If only the things you done in the past could be erased the moment you realized you were in the wrong. You wished that after realizing your mistake, it all could be left behind. Why are you so stupid sometimes? Why did you speak before thinking first? Maybe you do deserve the pain he inflicted on you. You were asking for it but you only wanted to know the truth, you didn’t expect that it would somehow affect him so much. It was like he also learned the truth that night. Your head perhaps is just a hole filled with insecurities which you just can’t overcome because you simply won’t expect the fact that someone might actually like you. Like you, to get to know you better, see and hear about your biggest fears and dreams, helping you get pass them, overcome them and accomplish them. It feels like forever since you thought about your feelings this much. You were so used to blocking them away.

You want so badly to just let go and enjoy all of this but you have been alone for so long that you don’t even know if you want to be loved anymore. It is such a crazy idea to you, a reality now…maybe. You dream about being loved that is all you do and maybe it is the only right thing for you. You are a lover girl, not a loved girl…that’s how it is supposed to be in your head. Are you sabotaging yourself?

A man such as himself falling in love with you? Tall, handsome, so charming and yet so dark and broken, wanting only you to be his forever. You want so badly to do the same but it is all just so scary. For quite some time your world started to become dull, everyday was the same. You realized, you were always alone after all and suddenly someone came in to your life, wanting to change that? What if this is the same for him? He has seen the world grow, the circle of life, people dying and being born again. It must be so lonely for him in some way, no one stick around long enough. Like he said — if you were like him, maybe you would understand but you don’t want to say that you somehow do understand…feel something. How could you not really? Even after what happened, because of that you want to get to know him better even more. And you’re so crazy in the head that you almost liked how he touched you…

You are awake now, still however feeling yourself slip into unconsciousness every once in a while. Your body is dripping in sweat, nightgown clinging on to your skin. Though you don’t remember any dream that could possibly make your body react in that way and it is always so cold in your room. A sigh leaves you as you roll onto your back. You hate how much you enjoy the silk sheets pooling over you, caressing you. The blissful state of almost falling asleep again is abruptly interrupt as something drip down on to your skin. You wipe it off but as you do, it only happenes again.

As your hand wiped off the substance which you thought was your sweat, your coated fingers graze your nose. The awful coppery smell hits you instantly, making your face scrunch up in confusion laced with panic. As you open your eyes, they fall onto your hand. You breathe out in shock at the crimson blood as another bead drips into your open palm, making your eyes tilt up to the direction it came from.

…You have never seen such a horrifying sight. Your mind is completely wiped out of any thoughts because you couldn’t simply make out what you are seeing right now. However this gruesome picture stares right at you, almost like presented in a way, so it gives the most gut wrenching feeling out of you. Your whole body stiffened but soon began shaking wildly in panic and fright and every passing second you look at it more, it becomes more real to you. The red color covers your field of vision, you couldn’t see nothing more than that. The once beautiful eyes of the animal are now dull, life completely vanished and you could see the pain in them. The once vibrant white color of its skin now painted red, dripping down on your bed. Your breathing becomes heavy but you couldn’t get any air into your lungs, every intake punches you into your chest and soon your lips open to release a blood curdling scream.

Eyes blocked with your hot tears, made you fall onto the ground as you so desperately try to scramble away as far as your stiff muscles would allow you to. You feel like throwing up, swallowing your spit and trying to fight the awful feeling in your stomach. Your hands curl up to your chest as you sat on the floor, you could feel how much your heart was pounding. You must be dreaming…yes, you must be. This is just another nightmare. Just a nightmare. This is not real. This is not real. This is not real—

You jump harshly as the door to your bedroom swings open, so fast that it flew onto the wall heavily and with such a force that the door almost fell off its hinges. Your hands fly to your ears at the loud sound, still not being able to catch your breath as every intake burned inside your chest. Your bloodshot eyes fall to your nightgown, seeing how much it is stained with that godawful substance and you wish for the floor to swallow you whole.

Your cries are so loud that you don’t even hear someone rushing in to your room, accompanied with another pairs of footsteps. The first person to come in to the room, immediately rushes to your trembling figure, momentarily stopping to look at the sight that now is permanently imprinted in your mind. You feel cold hands touching yours, flinching instantly away from them. You already know who it is, you don’t know how but you just do. Maybe because you feel such a weird sense of calmness wash over you but you are in such a state of shock that you couldn’t do anything other than jump away from the touch.

Hyunjin thought that by being one of the most powerful creatures on earth meant that there was simply nothing to be afraid of…till now — when he heard that sound. Till he heard that horrible sound of your scream…the way it sounded — so in pain, so scared, he immediately felt it too. He didn’t think twice, rushing to your room, so blinded by his own fear that he didn’t even see his family being right behind him, following him. When his eyes fell onto your curled up body, shaking like a leaf, he almost fell down on his own knees in despair. However the well known smell, made him for a second stumble upon the cause of all of this. His heart broke at the sight and also for you. He tried to calm you down but how? You don’t even want to look at him, scared that you will catch a glimpse of it again.

“No—no, I can’t, I can’t–“ Comes out of your lips as soon as his hands leave you. Your shaking hands press onto your eyes, slowly falling down to your knees, crunching up the fabric of your nightgown tightly but you could still see the blood.

Hyunjin glances back for a second at the bed, catching eyes with his equally horrified best friend who stood next to your bed before he also looks down at your body. Only by touching your hands, his own were completely covered in it and for the first time in a while he feels repulsed by the crimson. It gives you pain then why should it give him pleasure?

Your eyes flicker back to the canopy, only feeling more shocked and disgusted at the sight, you just have to be sure you’re not imagining all of this. This is so sick, who did this…why?

Hyunjin looks down again at his hands coated in blood and for a minute he wonders if any of it is yours but he would already know if yes because your blood simply smells different from any other. You aren’t injured physically but this imagine is grater and even more painful than any other. Someone must have done this with a purpose…hurt you. His eyes flash with anger, his priority was only you at this moment, every day, every night. Revenge can wait.

“Search the grounds.” Says Chan. Hyunjin didn’t acknowledge his presence at all till now and looking at him he realized, he wasn’t the only one in great anger. “Even the woods.” He adds, the men who followed their master in to your room nod before scrambling away.

A sob broke the silence, making Hyunjin look back at you. “It’s okay, love-“ He shushes you softly, putting his arms around your body, caging you but still not touching you, only hovering because you didn’t give him your permission.

Your cries die down a little, still hiccuping slightly as the panic slowly goes away. Shaking your head at his words, your eyes close as you tilt your head up. You go to take a breath through your nose but it is only clogged up because of your crying, making you breathe in with your lips. Your eyes open, finally looking at him. Your puffy and red eyes meet his azure and piercing ones. In a sense they calmed you a little as you thought of the ocean every time you would look into them.

Hyunjin’s heart broke even more at your gaze. He could see the pain, panic, sadness while also laced with sleepiness at the corners. How could someone do this to you…

His arms fall a little to his sides and you finally seem to register how close he is to you but you don’t pull away. You are safe now. “Let me help you clean up.”

You don’t give him a response and like he could read your mind, he knew that you weren’t against it. You don’t even know if you can stand up on your own. Your hands press onto the floor, trying to stand up on your shaking legs and before you could stumble even a little, he is already there. Like every time since the night you two met. His hands flew to grip your upper arms. His touch feels different from the past, still strong but now also gentle, like he is holding a piece of glass. You are not sure if it is because of the situation but it almost feels like his cold touch, could set your body on fire. You feel empty, traumatized and completely uselessness. The vampire helped you up, but it is more like he is standing and walking for you both. You have never felt so light in your life and it wasn’t just because of his strong arms, you felt — tired.

He leads you to the bathroom, closing the door slightly while walking you to the bathtub. You let out a small hiccup at his gentle touch, so careful, feeling completely undeserving of his attention at the moment. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry…” He doesn’t response, letting him push you on to the bath, making you sit down at the corner as he hold you in his arms a little longer. Your brain almost forgot about whatever happened outside this door as he rubs small circles on your skin. Your eyes were too scared to look into his, breath hitching as his thumb trails over the naked skin of your shoulder. Hyunjin also got a little lost in the moment before he looks down at your blood covered nightgown. That sight makes him snap back to his senses, hands leaving your body.

When he stepped out from your line of sight, your eyes fell to the mirror. Blood covered your neck, face, even your hair line and basically your whole upper body. You become sick to your stomach, remembering that this is the blood of an innocent animal. Looking at your hands you reminisced the way its soft skin felt on your skin, just a few hours ago. Now they only made you see the crimson that stained them.

As you look upon them, your view is blocked by a hand, traveling over your skin of your fingertips till it comes to softly hold yours. Hyunjin kneels down before you, holding your hand out for him to wipe off the blood from your skin. He was so soft, it almost felt like your skin was being kissed by a whiff of cold wind. His cold touch calms down your racing heart and you almost want to grumble in protest as he keeps his touch at minimum. It felt so nice and jokingly cooling. However in some way you are thankful that he respects your boundaries.

“I can do it myself—“ You whispered, watching the towel slowly turning red while your skin is finally being able to breathe again.

“No.” He said, stubbornly, almost as he was mocking you but on his face was no smile whatsoever.

You watch him wash your hands with the towel, the water in the bucket where he dipped it in progressively getting darker. You are slightly mesmerized by how much bigger his hand is compared to yours. Yes, you do look at them quite often but seeing his long fingers wrapping around your wrist like that is a first. You become aware that you were still dressed in the same, a little see through nightgown and it makes you self conscious. Your other, now clean hand, comes to tug at the fabric so it isn’t so tight on your body. Watching the man before you, you let his hand linger on your wrist, fingers pressing into your pulse.

He could feel how much your heart is racing, but it is not like he couldn’t hear it with his own ears as well as the pulsing blood underneath your skin. Hyunjin went to wring out the towel, turning back to you with his back now straight. Your breath hitched slightly, timidly lowering your gaze. Even if he was the one kneeling he has the power here. How wrong you were…

Fingers, like a feather touching your chin made you look back at the man. The hand on your nightgown formed into fist for a moment as he now washes away the pain from your features. He still holds your chin between his fingers as he wipes the blood, sweat and tears. The embarrassing noise you almost let out, gets stuck in your throat as you look up at him. How can someone look so good from this angle? His concentrated gaze made you feel timid, so many thoughts suddenly running through your head and ones that made you lower your gaze.

Your lips release a choke breath. At the same moment you look away from him, reality hits you yet again. You can still remember the horrible sight you saw just moments ago. “I don’t understand what happened…why would someone do this —“

He sighed at your confused, saddened tone, lifting your chin higher slightly to meet your eyes and suddenly you forgot you were even angry at him yesterday’s night. Whatever happened yesterday was so silly and so stupid, you really don’t understand yourself sometimes. He was so kind to you, even with his nature, he would never hurt you or wouldn’t even want to see you get hurt...Why are your eyes suddenly wide open? You feel horrible that this — what happened made you realize how stupid and ungrateful you were. You just don’t now what to do…so you rather do nothing or just push further and further away.

Your eyes unwillingly welled up with tears, falling down your cheeks freely and poolling in to his hand. “Poor animal, oh my god was it yours — the horse.” The words fall out of your mouth, sniffling at your own words. When you looked at him, he didn’t quite meet your eye and for the first time you could see how much heartbroken he truly was. “I’m so sorry…”

He suddenly looks back at you, his other hand still tracing the towel your tear stained face. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for…I should be the one apologizing.” Hyunjin whispers the last words, his hands falling to his side before going to grip the bathtub you are sitting on.

You immediately understood what he is implying, it is not like you weren’t thinking about it earlier. “No.” You whisper back, trying to meet his eyes but his are set on the marble floor. “I am sorry.” For everything…you wanted to say. You wanted to say sorry for being so detached.

He shakes his head at your words, a short dry laugh falling from his lips. His hands on each side of you caged you under his glare but it wasn’t an unwelcome one, he looked saddened just as you were about all of this. “Someone did this to you — without me knowing even a single thing…” He sneers but his voice becomes little as he looks at your leg briefly where your mark, bruise, he left on you would be. It burned under his gaze. “No one knows a thing and they could have hurt you. I would never forgive myself for that…” His voice almost cracks at the end, recalling what he did yesterday, feeling like he is no better than the person who did this.

His broken tone rings in the air but only a single move it took to change the whole atmosphere of the room. As Hyunjin looked up at you, his hands gripped the edge of the bath so tightly, you could hear the stone cracking under his palms. You corner almost at the wild look in his azure eyes that are now just a flicker more red than usual. “I will find whoever did this and I promise you, I’ll kill them for you.” He says, lip curling up, giving you a small glimpse of his sharp teeth.

Your heart starts to beat even faster with his words and before you could stop yourself, your hand flew to his. Your hand grabbed his, scared that he would break the bathtub with his unhuman strength. His eyes cleared the moment your warm skin touches his freezing one. Both of you glance at each other in shock and just as quickly as you touched him, you pull away.

Your eyes look at your own hands in disbelief as he look at his in amazement. How are you so warm? Hand so smooth and warm that he wondered how it would feel like to have it back on his skin. What you did, in some way feels different from any other touches you have shared before. It felt intimate, just the split of second giving away such a raw emotion in which he now wants to drown in. He tried to say something but words some times are not enough nor necessary. At least your said precious skin isn’t covered in blood anymore but the big stain on your nightgown is still a big give away of what happened.

Hyunjin then stands up without a word, throwing the towel away before stopping to look through the slightly open door. His heart sank as he gazed back into the bedroom, just as his friend was being removed from the canopy of your bed. How come someone was able to sneak in and do this without anyone hearing even a thing? He knows better. This doesn’t feel like an attempt to kill you — his dead heart seems to skip a beat under this awful thought. This was a sign of a warning.

“From now on, you will be with me. I want you by my side.”

You said nothing, because there is no point in arguing and also you liked his idea better than being in here alone. You can’t stand the thought of ever sleeping in that bed ever again and the once beautiful, comfy sheets made your stomach flip. You again turn to look at yourself in the mirror opposite to you, grimacing at the image. Your messy bed hair was sticking to your skin, eyes and lips puffy with your nose runny from the crying, you can’t understand for a moment, how his appeal could be even possible.

Standing up, you again unstick the material of your nightgown from your skin. It felt uncomfortable, not to mention you felt dirty and the way he could probably see the outline of your body didn’t make you pleased. You go around the tub, just where he stood but before he could let you walk pass him, he stops you.

You stumble slightly when he suddenly turn around, blocking your way with his towering body. You look up at him, shakily breathing through your nose as he glared into your eyes. “Don’t look.” He probably meant whatever was happening inside the room right now and you would definitely feel better of not knowing. It wasn’t like you would want to look anywhere else beside his alluring eyes.

You both take the time to look at each other’s features. You marvel over his perfect pale skin that almost seemed translucent as you could see the veins under the thin layer of skin. It felt like you were seeing him in a completely different light. You also wondered if he was enchanted with you as much as you were with him but that didn’t seem right in your head. Maybe if you were clean and would be wearing something nicer…you suddenly want him to see you in the best version of yourself. He literally has only seen the bad and the worse. Where did this come from?

You listen to the noises just outside the room, they however felt like miles away as he grazed his hand over your left shoulder. Hyunjin was experimenting, trying to see if you would feel repulsed by his touch but you didn’t even flinch. Your heart skipped a beat slightly and from what he could hear it wasn’t in a bad way. His hand, completely now on your shoulder, fingers extending that his index finger almost reached your collarbone, trailed down the length of your arm. His hand awakened goosebumps all over your body, the simple touch made you feel so embarrassed as it was so exciting to your untouched skin. His hand stopped at your wrist, short familiarity spiking through you as he left it there.

Who was more nervous? You or Hyunjin? He would like to say that it was him. His hand tightened its hold, still careful not to hurt you…like he did before. Hyunjin throws the thoughts away, trying to enjoy the fact that you are willingly letting him touch you. He has a hard time to look into your big curious eyes, his own glancing at your hand that clunched the fabric of your nightgown closer to your chest.

He quickly looks away, turning around still holding you and finally walking out of the bathroom together. Your eyes were deadly set onto the floor but you couldn’t miss the fact that he purposely blocked the sight of the bed with his body. Though you are still looking at his hand around your wrist. What if he would be holding your hand instead? Maybe interlock your fingers together? That was probably too much and so early for either of you to handle.

When you step outside the bedroom, you feel like, you can finally breathe. Your eyes flicker to the man who is still holding you to the other people passing by you. They walk by you with heavy, fast steps and as you turned around, some of them would stop at your bedroom or continue their path further. So many people, men and women of all ages. It looked unnatural as because you were so used to being alone in this place. Or maybe they already did walk passed you like this, maybe your eyes just weren’t opened till now.

You jump slightly every time your feet would land on the freezing floor, missing the carpets. You glance down, grimacing because you see blood seeping through the carpet, there was no way you could miss it, even on the dark colors of the material. Hyunjin seems to feel your shift, even if if your emotions were all over the place. He could read people just by the smallest difference in the beat of their heart. Well, sometimes when it comes to you. He looked back at you, eyes traveling to the direction you were looking. Such an attention to detail, even he didn’t notice it. His head was just too occupied at this moment.

Confused you glance at him as he took few steps before you, finding his back turned to you but that wasn’t the thing that made you so confused. It was his irregular steps. He looked like he was dancing and soon you realized what he was doing. He was making a path for you to follow so you wouldn’t step in any of the dirty spots on the carpet. You wanted to thank him but words were not necessary at the moment. However, you, nervously, squeezed his finger that was resting inside your palm and he in responded squeezed your wrist back. How can he know you so well when you speak so little?

He lead you further into the house, the furtherest you have ever been so far. You both passed by the big staircase, going right into the direction where you haven’t been before. The hallway at this side of the house wasn’t almost lit at all, some candles though keep you from stumbling in the dark. The air also was colder but not too uncomfortable, maybe because you’re getting used to it. Hyunjin stops almost at the end of the corridor. Right before slightly open door, turning to you to let you in the room first.

Before you step inside, you glance into the room where the welcoming soft hue of orange was coming from. As you took small step inside, Hyunjin for some reason thought that your small uncertainty in your steps meant you’re suddenly uncomfortable with the hold he has you in. He released you at that, fingers twitching as he could still feel the small electricity at his fingertips. When your hand falls unexpectedly to your side, you turn in confusion at your company who without even a glance walks past you into the room. You don’t want to question his behavior anymore, it seems like these mood swings of his are a normal occurrence, so you just follow him inside.

This room was even bigger than yours. Ceilings even higher, decor even more dramatic and everything just so more monumental. You two however weren’t alone in the room as some maids kept running all over the place and are thankful for their presence at the moment. Your eyes flicker to the bookshelfs, lining the walls, to the small table rounded by a couch and some chairs, to another door, probably leading to a bathroom, till they stop at the big bed. Because of the candles that the maids are trying so hard to light up, you could at least get a glimpse of the room like this. Your eyes travel over to him, standing before you, watching you, before you had to again avert your gaze somewhere else, right back to the bed where you can tell how the sheets were unmade.

“Is this your bedroom?” You wondered out loud but you already knew the answer as you glance timidly back to him.

“Yes.” He said.

You hate this when you realized this is the first time you have been in man’s bedroom like this. You simply nod at his agreement, trying to ignore your own thoughts by looking more around his room, finding even more new things to marvel about because of the lit candles. You could see the small streeks of light, coming from the top of the heavy curtains as well as some papers on one of the tables in the room. You again remembered what happened just moments ago. It was so quick, all of this. From the sight to his kind words, touch and now this. He must’ve just woken up as you turn to look at his clothes. They were still the same clothes that he wore last night, another reminder that all of this happened so quickly. You don’t know, if it’s the fact that you don’t have a life to begin with but everything that happened made you so tired but you can’t even think of sleeping again.

Two women passed by you, watching them put something on the bed. The sparkling fabric winked at you and you immediately realize that those are the dresses that were given to you. You look away, however he is already watching your every move, noticing the small look of wonder on your face.

“I haven’t seen you wearing any of the dresses I gave you.” Hyunjin said, turning his back to you slightly as he leans over his bed to pick at the fabric of one of those dresses. “You don’t like them?” He almost sounded hurt.

You knew that he was just playing with you. “I didn’t know they were for me.” You respond, cringing how stupid it sounded. Who did you play dumb for?

He however wasn’t offended by your lie at all. “I wish to see you in them, but of course only if you want yourself.” The vampire added quickly, not to sound too controlling. “It is not wrong to enjoy these gifts I give you.”

To be fair, you can’t lie that there wasn’t a single moment when you almost picked out one of them, to maybe even just feel the fabric between your fingers but dressing up was the last thing on your mind right now. You are still shaken, confused and traumatized, you kind of wished that all of this was just a dream. He knew that even if it didn’t seem like it. He completely understands how you are feeling right now, he is only trying to keep your mind off it.

Hyunjin panics a little as your heart didn’t calm down, still fast, your lips sat into a thin line. “Would you like a bath?” He asked, more like himself as you finally glance back at him at his words. “You would want to yes…” He thought, almost frantically.

Your eyes flicker down at your nightgown again and at the big stain on the front of it. “Yes…but you can clean up first.” You say, looking at his bloodied shirt, he following your statement by also looking at himself, like he only now realized.

“Don’t worry about me, blood has never bothered me.” He waved you off. Till, he saw it being the cause of your pain.

You frown. “Pobably but it is still from your—“ You stopped yourself before even thinking to continue. His face turns into sorrow for a second at the mention of his beloved, now deceased animal. “I’m sorry.”

You look around the room again, trying to escape the conversation. The beautiful decorations kept your mind occupied, eyes traveling to the little angels at each corner of the room. Under the dim light they almost looked haunting. His canopy looked even more magnificent and monumental than yours, if that was even possible and definitely less bloody...The colors of the bed however were still the same as yours, the sheets unmade, duvet almost on the floor.

“Aren’t you tired?” You spoke up again, eyes plastered on the bed. When you were met with silence you glance back, him expressing a small confusion on his features. “Like it’s morning.”

“Vampires don’t get tired but yes, sometimes we need sleep to regain our strength but I don’t think I can sleep, knowing you are now in danger.”

“It is alright, you can-“

“No, it’s not!” He raised his voice, the sheer loudness making you tremble as well as the other people in the room who momentarily stopped everything they were doing just to look at him. It was like he himself got shocked by his own reaction but to him it was the only right one. He doesn’t understand how you are somehow so unaffected about this. Yes, you are still slightly shaking but it seem like this is taking a bigger role on him than you. “Someone was in your room, someone got inside without anyone knowing and left a message that for sure wasn’t a felicitation of me courting you.”

You ignore the fact that he basically said you two were to be wed or something like that, because you only realize by his words that he is right. You’re in danger and without even a single clue who the enemy is, but you know that it must be someone powerful as they got away with this so easily. “But I don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt me — I’m no one.” You mean it. You’re a human with one friend, no enemies that you know of and you have a normal, quiet life — till now.

Hyunjin can’t help the small anger rising in his chest from your words, shaking his head in disbelief that you would even think something like that. “You’re not no one, not only for me but also for others.” That made your heart skip a beat and from the way his voice was radiating sincerity. “Someone knows who you are and that leaves you in a dangerous situation…In my long life, I have never feared the enemies, I made along the way, till now.”

You go silent, only sighing deeply from his confession. He really does now how to use his words to make you go insane in the head. You can’t help but feel slightly giddy inside because of the way he always speaks to you, so kindly and passionately, in way that you have only read in books and wondered — just wondered if anyone like this truly exist. You do not know him that well but you can’t imagine him having any enemies at all...maybe his charms didn’t work all the time.

Yawning, you quickly put your hand over your mouth, silencing that embarrassing sound but it only made Hyunjin’s frown deeper. “You can go to sleep…you’re safe now.” He doesn’t think that there will be even a second of not him listening to your beating heart. The possibility of there being a scenario where he wouldn’t be able to, made him scared…he is scared.

You do feel how your eyes are getting droopy, your legs becoming soft but the thought of sleeping after all of these events really wasn’t possible. “I don’t think I can–“ You sigh in small exhaustion. However your body is telling you a whole different story and he could see it. The thing that happened just moments ago, made you truly awake, it made your eyes wide open, for the first time since you got here. Or maybe since you met him?

You started to see different colors, ones that finally made you feel alive. Like you were born again, in some sense. But was it really necessary for a sweet, innocent animal to get hurt for this? It also could have been you... The thought of some stranger creeping up on you while sleeping, you completely unaware and the person choosing to give a message like this instead of not simply killing you, made you fear even more. “—I’m still sorry for your horse…” You say again, you just can’t help but feel a little bit responsible for this.

Hyunjin has to keep calm, emotions too much for his cold heart to bear. “Like I said, it wasn’t your fault…the most important thing is that you are alright.”

Yes, of course. That was the most important thing…

But you do not in fact feel alright. You have just seen the most gruesome image, you have ever seen. It is all your fault. You do not want to be alone. You want to stay with him — he now makes you feel safe. How could you be so heartless and cold towards him? Was it just your defense mechanism with everything that brings you happiness? Finally being seen, made you frightened as there was also someone or something that saw you. It was in your room, the only goal in their mind to scare you…away?

Set of footsteps echo behind you, stopping just at the threshold of the room. You had to focus your eyes on this new face you haven’t seen before. The young man’s skin, shined in the dimly lit room, eyes reflecting like the eyes of a wild animal. He looked so young, hair longer blonde and eyes striking you with their intensity. He momentarily looked at your figure but his full attention was however on the vampire behind you. They stared at each other, the blonde giving a look which you couldn’t quite understand but Hyunjin certainly did.

You feel him right at your back, cold from his skin so close to yours. Turning around, you glance between him and the young man. His close proximity didn’t startle you that much as he with a deep inhale, backs away from you himself. “I have to go now…” He looks down at you with his blue eyes, searching for forgiveness. You don’t want to be alone…for the first time, you really need his company in some way and even if he didn’t like his nonpresence as much as himself, he needs to do at least something about this situation you’re now in. He could see your small frown, you are trying to hide but there is a hint of understanding which he is thankful for.

He takes a step closer to you but stops midway with his lips parted. Whatever there was that he wanted to say, was replaced by other words, you could see the true words reflecting in his eyes. “If you need anything, just go down to the end of the of the corridor, I will be there.”

The tension could be cut with knife, aware of the audience you two still have, you simply nod in understanding, wrapping your arms around yourself as to form some sort of barrier between you and him. Why does he have to look at you like that? Like he could see right through you or maybe trying to, flickering his vibrant eyes all over you.

Your lips also parted but you close them again as he walks past you in a sense of hurry and you didn’t even know it was because he almost decided to stay here with you…

────

And in fact, sleep didn’t find you after all. Every time you would close your eyes, you would see the gruesome picture, the sad and grey eyes staring right at you, the blood…The bed you are laying in is still cold, the heavy duvet couldn’t give you the warmth you were searching for. You desperately need someone, just to comfort you. You have never felt so scared and paranoid. Your eyes would travel all around the room, till you memorized every detail in the dimly lighted room. You didn’t let anybody blow even a single candle off because the thought of being in the dark, made your skin crawl.

The only thing which weirdly seem to comfort you were the sheets. The spicy, sweet scent lingering in them filling your nose till it helped your body to relax. You tried to ignore the fact that the sheets smelled like him. It is only because he is powerful enough to protect you, his scent wrapped around you like an embrace you still desperately need. Protect you? He even said himself that he failed to do that…Someone really tried to — or maybe at least considered to kill you. You…such a bizarre, scary, yet now true and realistic thing. And it is because of him, the man who still scares you.

You can’t really choose sides because you can see who the real enemy is. You can’t keep telling yourself that he is the one who is going to hurt you. You have to believe that he wouldn’t do that, turn into his instincts and just sucking you dry of your life. Maybe he is just a normal man trapped in his own body…

There is probably no way of going out of this now, you fear you don’t have any other choice. You just want to close your eyes and wake up. Wake up from this nightmare. You hate how you have no idea what do to. You, till now had all the control over your life as it was simple and you were basically the only person in it. You, now have to rely on him, trust him to protect you. Trust him that he will not change his mind with you.

You can’t stand a second alone anymore. The creaks of the old wood made you jump every time, your skin around your nails was already raw from your picking and you could feel the lump in your throat slowly suffocating you. You don’t want to be alone anymore, even if it means that he would be the one to safe you from this prison. You just need a small walk and not think about anything. Maybe find something to eat, since you still haven’t eaten anything, even if the thought of food made you sick to your stomach.

You clinched onto the silky skirt of your nightgown, not even caring about the cold floor under your feet. Your skin was clean but the memory still lingered as well as also the metallic smell under your nose. The black fabric trailed behind you as you make your way out of the bedroom. You simply picked the silky, long, black nightgown because it didn’t remind of that one stained in sin.

This side of the mansion was unusually cold. You wondered if it is because of the death living in these walls. Everything however other than the cold, seemed more used and alive. There were roses at every piece of furniture, the carpet which you were standing on, had in some places its color faded and even the wooden floors were scratched, probably from shoes. It all shined with such light, you haven’t seen before.

You walked further and further, till you had to turn around to look at the end of the hallway to a door. It seemed to call to you, maybe that is were he was hiding but as you reached the railing of the big staircase, you were proven otherwise.

Your hand wrapped around the polished wood of the staircase when you felt it. Him, his presence stabbing you into your back. “Where are you going?” You gasp, turning swiftly, with your eyes wide.

Maybe he should stop doing that. Maybe his quiet movements and talent to always creep up on you, just comes with his nature but you probably will never get used to it. His sudden appearance made goosebumps rise all over your body, looking at him with your lips parted. He looked in some way different...His hair was tussled, eyes piercing and weirdly wide as he stared down at your body clad in the black nightgown with an unnatural expression who think you have seen before — but you just can’t place it. His lips were red and plump, almost like just bit into a cherry. He looked…yes, different that is the word. “Nowhere…” Is your simply answer as you tighten your grip on the railing, not being able to meet his eyes. Why don’t you tell the truth? You are not sneaking out or anything but just this sudden difference in his appearance, made you quiver and lost don’t words.

He looks disappointed at your lack of answer. He licks his lips when he took a step closer to you and you couldn’t help but to follow that movement. Was it the smell of him from the sheets still lingering on you or was it coming from him? It burns your nose in an awfully pleasant way, your head almost starts to hurt from it. It wrapped around you, just the way you need, but he didn’t seem to notice your disorientation that much as he himself seems to be quite lost.

“I told you to stay in my bedroom.”

You frown at that. There’s no reason for you to be in his room the whole time, seeing that you are still being watched and he only just proved your point by showing up. Like he said, you’re safe now, at least from the person who did that horrible thing. In fact, you'd rather be doing something other than lying in bed, just wondering. Sometimes being alone with your thoughts is a lot. Finally you want to do something in this still unfamiliar place. For once, you want to do something to keep your mind occupied, so you wouldn’t again drown in your own thoughts and secondly you just don’t think it is that big of a deal that you’re outside his bedroom. There are probably many people looking after you and you’re thankful for that but he seems like he doesn’t trust them, you — to take care of yourself. Maybe you’re a human but you still have free will in this house.

“Till what?” You say, back leaning on the staircase. “I just want something to eat.” You trail off, almost like a little kind after being scolded.

“And I told you to call me if you need something–“

“I can still walk and do things myself…I’m fine.” You, so badly wanted to roll your eyes and maybe not really in annoyance. He came again closer to you and you almost shiver at the smell radiating from him. Why is it so addicting? What is he doing to you?

His stops right in front of you, making you look up into his glaring eyes. Even if his build was quite thin, he radiated power that made you want to curl up into a ball. “You’re taking all of this too lightly.” Hyunjin leans over you, your eyes completely captivated by his and the red hue they held.

“And you too…” You don’t want to say that you got lost in his eyes. Also you don’t know how to feel about someone like him being so concerned about your well being but you think he is just a little exaggerating. It happened to you, not him. You really should feel more scared and you think you even do but all of your fright seem to vanish when he is present. Again, is it only because you know him well enough now that you know, he won’t hurt you or is it only because there is someone showing you who the real danger is? Do you really trust him? Maybe but you do not trust these feelings you are starting to feel when you are with him. When he is away, you always think of him differently than when he is with you…you’re totally screwed.

Hyunjin looks you over, listening closely to your heart. It was steady, you were too calm for his liking. Just few hours ago, you were shaking and now you’re almost completely calm. “You are telling me that this doesn’t concern you?” He questioned you, trying to search in your eyes for answers as they were completely unmoving from his. “Well, it certainly does concern me.”

“That’s good for you.” Comes out of your mouth, wishing silently to not be having this conversation any longer. You suddenly feel embarrassed as you realize how you are acting. The sweet smell turned sorrow the more his frown deepened and also your own expression. Why are you acting like this? You’re a grown woman and you shouldn’t be acting like this. You don’t know if he truly noticed what you were doing but you wished for the ground to swallow you whole.

With a shaky inhale you turn your body to possibly go around him but he saw your move of getting away from him miles away. His arm blocked your way, hand grabbing the railing so close to yours, you again almost shivered as his other also caged you in. You can’t look at him now. You knew you would only embarrassed yourself further. Could he sense your desperation? Maybe this thing — the smell was playing with your head or made you do feel this way about him but you were certain that if you would look at him, you would lost the silent battle between you two.

“Just let me go.” You say, voice soft and quiet but he could hear you clearly as well as your pounding heart.

Your head is leveled with his upper chest but your eyes are set on his hand next you, gripping the railing so tightly, like he is holding the last bit of his sanity left in him. It is only to ignore his breath fanning over you but you just become more aware of his close presence. You could feel his cold breath moving your hair as he leans over your frozen body. “No.”

Your eyes look into his direction, stopping at his chest softly raising and falling and his alabaster skin, peaking out of his slightly unbuttoned shirt. “Let me go, Hyunjin.” You are now pleading because you really do feel like fainting from this rollercoaster of emotions, you’re now experiencing.

Your words may have meant a little more than either of you would like to admit. He looks down at you with such softness that he is only confident in when you are not fully seeing it. “How can you? How can you be so calm? Are you not scared that somebody tried to hurt you?” He says, hair around your forehead being swept away from his breath.

You finally look at him, pointedly. “It is not like it would be the the first time…”

Were you only this mean to see what he would do? See how much it would take for him to see that maybe you’re not the right person for him. Everything that happened was only because of someone else. And he in fact finally sees you, even more than you thought he would as he steps away from you with his eyes flashing with anger. Or maybe he is just seeing what you've been trying to achieve all along. Trying to throw away any responsibility as your form of self protection. Because your life gave you everyday the same things and when finally something new happens to you, you are too scared to do anything about it.

Maybe you were being too harsh with your words as you look upon him. As soon as he backed away from you, he comes even closer. Way closer. You become wide eyed from how fast, he pinned you up against the railing. “Listen to me, you will stay in your room till I say otherwise, I can’t compel you but I sure will convince you.” The stairs digged painfully into your back and not from you trying to get away from him, he is actually the one pressing you into it.

You breathe out as you can feel your chests up against each other and you flush at the feeling more as you realized there weren’t that many layers separating you. “You c-can’t…” You can’t talk properly as he is basically suffocating you.

He tilts his head a little at your words. “Can’t what?” Hyunjin repeats, tilting his head down at your level to maybe catch your eye fully. “You’re really testing my patience, love. I don’t want to be like this…I don’t want to make you fear me but you’re so…insufferable.”

Please, stop saying that. You do know how you are acting and that it is bad. No person deserves this and you do know what it feels like. You are becoming the very person you hate. “Hyunjin….I am so sorry — I am just so scared.” You’re scared of everything. Manly from these feelings bubbling inside your chest, not even the person that wants to hurt you, scares you more. You promise yourself to not feel this emotions again, it just never works out in your favor. You glance at him, eyes filled with sorrow that his own seemed to completely mimic. “I just don’t want to think about all of this. Everything is still so new and now this?” You look around, hating yourself for the burning in your eyes. “I don’t know what to do anymore…what to feel anymore —”

His hand travels from the railing closer to your own, tips of his fingers touching your burning skin. You look down at his hand, lingering again so close to yours before looking up at him with big eyes. “Then let me…let me be you, I will protect you but you just have to let me in….” He says, whispering those words to you.

Your heart flutters at his words. Does he really mean it? If yes, would you even be able to give in fully? You can’t say that you don’t want to. His eyes look into yours with such softness, you wondered if those are really the same eyes you saw the first night you two met. You could see him, through those red irises you saw someone. His true self. He also could see the small girl peaking from behind the beautiful color of your eyes, a small girl who searched her whole life for a purpose and love. He wants to think he is what you have been searching for. He enjoys these moments of complete silence. Your voice is so warm and soothing but sometimes these silent moments gave more than words. Hyunjin could look at you freely. From your eyebrows to your eyes that showed him wrinkles of smiles and tears they have been through, to your nose that you sometimes like to stick somewhere you shouldn’t and then your lips. You do notice that.

You let him, as you are also letting your own eyes fall onto his own but the usual admiration you had for them vanished. From the conversation you had before you didn’t notice the small smudge of red at the corner of his mouth. You knew what it was, you knew what he was, so this should be normal, even for you but you today find yourself absolutely dispising this color. You turn your head away from him and he at the loosen his grip on the railing.

You don’t want to think about what happened, you don’t meet his lingering stare. You knew it would only give away your feelings for him, you wouldn’t be able to hide them. He steps away from you, still however keeping close to you but you could atleast breathe now. You look up at him then after few moments of just trying to calm yourself down, eyes falling immediately on the same spot as before, at his lips.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Huh?” You let out dumbly, momentarily looking at his eyes which held a teasing flicker. “–something?”

His lips curl up at one corner, exactly the one where the smear is. “Well, you will have to tell me more if you want something, angel.”

Can he stop with these nicknames already? Nobody called you that before and it made an unfamiliar feeling rise in your chest. You could feel your face burning and you knew he could tell. You frown at that, embarrassed. “Stop it” You mumbled to yourself but it was in some way mainly meant for him and you don’t immediately realize he could still hear you.

“Stop what?” He asks, confused but you knew with the look on his face that he is teasing you.

You sigh. “Nothing…” Playing along and to safe yourself from further embarrassment, you start to play with the skirt of your nightgown. “…whatever there is available.”

You starts again fidgeting in his presence but this was totally normal now it seams. You really do become aware of how much you can’t speak freely to new people, so used to the small circle you had. Oh, how you missed them but you do think that if Mia knew at least with who you’re spending your time with, she would be absolutely delighted for you. You dream about having at least enough confidence to speak without any fear of how the others would perceive you but on the other hand, you really didn’t think twice before talking. Like now.

His lips which had your full attention parted to maybe again say something teasing in his sultry voice of his but your thoughts were already flying from your mouth before he could even get a sound out. “Why is there blood on your mouth?”

There is silence after that, watching how the warmness in his eyes slightly dimmed. You’re always asking such questions — you do know why. It was just a small thought that you should have kept to yourself. He looked at you with a small pointed look, not knowing how to answer because it was so obvious. Yes, it truly was. However your mind sometimes likes to blur the fact that he really feeds from blood and blood only. Such a fairytale — perhaps nightmare he is, you still can’t wrap your head around it.

His eyes linger on yours while he swipes the blood from his lips with his thumb, his movements little too slow to not be intentional. The fact he then wraps his plump lips around the digit is definitely on purpose. Your own parted into a silent gasp, feeling your heart, hammering against your chest from his actions.

You think that maybe he was going to say something again or take a challenging step closer to you but your little moment was interrupted by a set of quick footsteps with heavy breathing. You both turn to your left to see a young woman, coming from the hallway, stopping for a second as she jumps at your appearance. Your eyes travel from her scared eyes to her clothes, giving you a clue that she is one of the maids in this home but you definitely couldn’t look away from the blood coating her hand which was pressed into her neck.

Your heart broke a little as you connected the dots, flickering your gaze to Hyunjin. The woman thankfully didn’t stay for too long as she quickly disappeared from your sight. You do still look into her direction because you can’t look at him again. Maybe you are just exaggerating but to you this is a big deal. You don’t know if feeding from someone means anything to them — him but to you it does. Piercing someone’s skin with your teeth to drink blood which was your source of pleasure…It is no one of your business if he is with other women — or is it?

You could feel your face unwillingly scrunch up into a frown, you can’t hide that you are upset and somehow disgusted by this anymore. Hyunjin stiffened, the thick silence even for him too much to bare, tilting his head to meet your eyes and maybe make you see how sorry he truly is for you to see him like this, again. However you simply turn away more from him. Somehow he understands your reaction but he is not so sure why you would take it so deeply. It is a normal thing for him. He needs to feed after all, just under these different circumstances.

He calls out to you but you ignore him, pressing your lips into a thin line to appear, somewhat not too affected. Your lack of reaction makes him feel small — thinking carefully about the right words, so as not to make you even more upset or scare you more away from him. If you’re taking this so seriously so shall he. He didn’t even think twice about such thing but he has to keep in mind that you’re still new to this. “You must understand that I have to feed.” He says, sighing at your frown that you are trying to make as little as possible. “It means nothing—“

You look up, puzzled little with yourself. One side is telling you that this is alright and nothing is wrong with it but your other side is telling you the complete opposite. He wishes to be with you but does something like this? Something so intimate? You feel your own skin tingling at the thought of his teeth piercing your own very skin. Jealousy strikes you in the back of your head, showing you exactly why you so despised this. You don’t know for sure, if you want to be the one to give him blood but you for sure don’t like anyone else doing it. Is it so normalized to bite someone into their most sensitive places and drink from them? He looks unsure of what to do next as you only look at his face with emotionless expression but like he said — your eyes always gave you away.

“If you want this to work…I want you to stop feeding — atleast like this.” Maybe you don’t mind him feeding from someone but just not there…that only should be for you only. “It maybe doesn’t mean anything to you but it does to me. I know, I shouldn’t be asking you this, how to feed but to me it feels…intimate.” And erotic, you wanted to say but even this simply word, was somehow hard enough to get out of your mouth under his watchful eyes. Hyunjin stays silent a little more and not like you, he seems to think over his words.

“Alright…” He answered you, before his face falls so quickly into a frown that you almost missed it, but it wasn’t from your disagreement with his diet. It was simply because of the way you sounded out the words. “–are you saying, you want me to feed off you only?”

You should’ve known better, of course he just asked you that as it wasn’t already so obvious from your confession. Your hand flies to your chest, pressing your palm slightly where your heart starts to beat a little faster, your eyes big and eyebrows furrowed. “I-I…don’t know.” It really is quite a unique question to be asked, but you do ignore the fact that you already know the answer.

He blinks at your weak tone, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You say that a lot, but I know, you do know, Y/N…” He said, waiting a little before continuing, maybe to see if you would say something more, but you only look at him through your pretty lashes. He sighs at your expression, before tilting his head down. “I will stop feeding in the sense of biting.” You meant that you don’t want him to bite someone in their neck, but you are pleasantly surprised by his answer, so you stay quiet. “Now, I’ll bring you something to eat, it will be waiting for you on the table outside of our room.” You shutter embarrassingly at that one specific word, coughing, to mask your shocked reaction. He didn’t make a move that indicated that he just heard your embarrassing noise of shock, but in his head he was smiling big. You thought that this conversation would still go on but you’re happy with how it ended. At least you’re not fully at each other’s throats. Huh, funny…

You are now the one with your lips left apart, words swirling in your head as he passed by you, his hand grazing so close to yours which was placed on the corner of the railing when he started to ascend down the stairs. Your nose is yet again, hit with his smell, wrapping around you like a duvet of the embrace you so needed. Watching him walk away from you, though didn’t feel like the other times and only after he disappeared from your line of sight, you walked back to yours and his bedroom.

────

It is been a long day, such a long day for you to just again drown in your thoughts. You didn’t leave the room for the rest of the day, simply spending your time on one of the couches, reading. The words however as the day slowly turned into night started to blur. From your exhaustion and also from the realization of the situation that will soon have to be dealt with. You look at the bed with a blank expression, because there couldn’t be a face for you to express with all the emotions you were experiencing.

As the sun set, you finally decided to open the heavy curtains, blocking, till now, your view of the outside. You could have opened them sooner, but you didn't want to risk him getting caught in the sunlight — however, he didn’t come. You looked out the window, till you saw the sun disappear and the moon appear. Every day that passed by was so slow to you, but by that time the nature had time to bloom into its beauty. Everything started to get greener, more vivid — was the earth always this colorful? The warm, orange light tickle your skin that you almost felt like one of those creatures as because you got so used to the darkness. But you did start to see its own beauty — Hyunjin came late that night as expected and sleep didn’t creep up on you, till he arrived. Perhaps you were concern, but you don’t want to say that…

You were already in bed, body tucked under the heavy duvet and eyes closed, but you could tell that he knew, you were awake. He just simply chose to not say anything, maybe not to disturb you in your peaceful state, but inside you were shaking. He went to the bathroom and at that you were again thinking about how you two will share the same bed…

You have never shared a bed with a man before, even like this — you haven’t even been to a man’s bedroom till now! Was it fright that made your heart beat so fast? You know, he wouldn’t do anything to you, but still….or maybe you were just nervous. And not in a bad way it seemed. Your fingers gripped onto the bed as the every passing second, he spend more in the bedroom, became even more unbearable for you.

You waited for him to come back. A long time at that and you didn’t have a single clue that his long stay in the bathroom, was simply because he was nervous too. He, spend his time simply looking at himself in the mirror, thinking about how to calm himself down. Who would have thought that he could even feel such an emotion? To him, the time that he spend inside the bathroom wasn’t long enough for him to find the right courage to come back into the room, but it was long enough for him to think back to the moment you two shared.

Drinking blood from someone, became for him a daily thing, a normal thing, like for you to drink and eat. Till you said that — was he always this blind? He never thought of drinking from someone this way, but he knew of course that for humans it was different. He did feel the pleasure, but for humans it was out of this world experience almost, but you didn’t know that…You only said that it seemed intimate and he is thankful that you don’t know the whole truth about how a vampire bite feels for a human…What were you doing to him? It is been a long time since he second guessed himself like that. He became more careful with his moves, since you arrived, but he can’t lie that he still is a little reckless sometimes and just does what his heart desires and acts on his instincts.

Time flew past quickly, yet so slowly, but you couldn’t fight the hazy state you are falling into any longer. Your eyes closed a long time ago, but now the deep frown on your face started to soften. You felt your body falling, melting almost into the sheets and your mind became so quiet and peaceful that you didn’t have the power to acknowledge the silent creek of the bathroom door.

His slow footsteps blend in with your heartbeat in your ear. The old floor creaking under his weight, was the only thing giving him away. You hear the last creak stop next to the bed, hair on the back of your neck standing up at that. You could feel his stare on the back of your head that peaked out of the soft duvet. Being so sleepy, you didn’t feel your heart pounding that much, but you do wait anxiously for his next move, eyes wide set on his silhouette dancing in the candle light on the wall.

You feel cold air of the room piercing your back as the duvet is slightly lifted off you. You realize at that you basically stole almost all of it and in some way, it made you embarrassed simply because it were his own sheets — and also your nose unconsciously kept digging into them, filling your lungs with his smell. You don’t feel much bad because you knew he didn’t need anything to cover himself with. You wanted to give him more of it, but you only found yourself completely frozen as your whole senses heightened when you feel a dip in the bed.

The bed was big, but soft enough to feel how his whole body fell into it. When the only source of light is then blown away, you became highly aware of the body laying behind you. Was he watching you? Probably, like he always did. Your heart jumped a little as he rolled his body over and you just knew that he was facing your back.

His blue eyes watched your body and other than the small rising of your body when taking a breath, you were completely unmoving. He played with the edge of the duvet, that didn’t even cover a little of him. Pulling up the duvet, was a request for you to at least give him some, but as you didn’t even move an inch, he chose to sacrifice a night without it.

Few moments passed by and again you became sleepy, snuggling into the bed and missing another subtle shift of the body behind you. You don’t even feel him, leaning his upper body over yours. You don’t even feel the cold breath on your cheeks nor the cold radiating so close behind you.

He leaned over you, left hand keeping his upper body from falling onto yours. His other twitched in the air, just hovering over the length of your waist. He for a second couldn’t help but stare at your blissful state. From your red cheeks bitten by the cold, smushing almost together from your face being so snuggled into the pillow to your eyelashes fanning over your cheekbones, to your ruffled hair, creating a halo around you, till again his eyes fell onto your lips. They were puckered slightly, flushed just as your cheeks. You looked absolutely ethereal. He must say, he has seen you sleep before, but not from this angle nor this close. It was like seeing you from a complete different perspective — view of a lover, he wished to say.

But then, your so called blissful state was interrupted when you felt it — when you felt the weight of his arm around you, tugging you into him. Your eyes shoot open, heart almost jumping out of your chest, but you don’t immediately move away. You savor the feeling of him hugging you, the feeling of his body flush against yours. But as the coldness of his skin started to seep through the layers of clothes, duvet and then piercing through the warmth into you, you move away from him.

He didn’t hold you tightly nor forcefully as you jump to the edge of the bed quite easily. “I am sorry, I can’t…” You croaked, quietly into the darkness.

His head hanged low, already hating himself more from doing that, making you uncomfortable and just doing something without your permission. His nails teared through the material of the sheets as his eyes fell onto your still not turned body. “I understand.” He whispered back. He really does, but he thought that maybe, you could at least let him touch you like this, just hold you. “I will sleep somewhere else.”

You only nod a little, eyes still looking into the darkness before you. As he got out of the bed, the coldness left with him and you realize that it truly was completely different from the one in the room. You listen closely to his footsteps, before you hear a muffled huff as he fell probably onto the couch. You feel bad for him to be the one to leave his own bed, but there probably wouldn’t be even a room for you to talk otherwise. You lay back down fully after a minute, his presence still known to you and at that sense of calmness washed over you.

His eyes reflected in the dark as he watched you again from afar. He saw how your breaths after a moment became even, body completely sinking into his bed. Closing his own eyes, the soft thuds of your heart, filled his ears. And that melody accompanied by the pictures of every moment today with you kept his mind occupied, till he felt his own need of sleep come over him. At least he has something to dream about now.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Kids Are All Right | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from an assault (heed this warning pls my loves), canon gore, canon violence, angst

Word Count: 4773

A/N: Heyyyy.... accidentally posted two at the same time haha. No episode this Saturday as a result; I'm sorry, y'all!! But a little extra treat today!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Sam spoke almost twice daily after your heart-to-heart leaving Lincoln. You were incredibly grateful to still have his friendship; even if your phone calls had to be carefully maneuvered around times when Dean was in the room. 

You were unsure how to feel about the fact that Sam was still trying to find ways to break Dean’s deal knowing he’d die if that happened but would also support your friend in whatever his decision was. You refused to have any involvement in picking between the lives of the two brothers, though, even if you were falling deeper and deeper in love with him with each passing day. 

Just the thought of seeing him again was enough to have butterflies swirling in your stomach. You were terrified of what he’d say to you, yes, but you missed him so dearly. As chaotic as he could be at times, he truly was your rock. And with each day that passed, the sore pang in your heart at the thought of him seemed to intensify.

Not to mention, your struggle with your assault was draining you. Your heart hurt every time you walked past a mirror, and every once in a while, you’d see yourself in that guard uniform.

“Where are you guys?” you asked Sam through the phone as you walked around your motel room pulling clothes on.

“Cicero, Indiana,” Sam replied.

Your heart and stomach dropped. “What?”

“No way you’re here, too,” Sam began to laugh.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Sam! I purposefully picked a case that seemed like it wouldn’t pan out to stay away from him!” you replied frantically. “I mean, ‘guy falls on his own power saw’ doesn’t exactly scream unsolved mysteries!”

Sam was still laughing, but cleared his throat before talking again. “Yeah, but Dean’s cruisin’ for a hookup, too. That’s his main motivation, I think.”

You scoffed and ignored the burning feeling in your chest. “Of course, he is. Who is it this time?”

“Lisa Braeden. His… five day road trip from about eight years ago,” Sam explained. 

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Gumby girl.”

“So you know of her,” Sam said.

“Oh, yeah! After one of the first times we had sex, he told me I gave Gumby Girl a run for her money. ‘Best sex of my life before you’ is a direct quote,” you told him.

“Okay, ew,” Sam grimaced. “I don’t need to hear about your sex life—”

“It was topically relevant, Sam!”

“—and this is apparently one of his ‘dying wishes’.” 

“Way to let me down easy, jackass,” you sassed at the brunet’s clear inability to read the room in this situation. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave. Let Dean have his fun,” you continued.

“No, don’t!” Sam begged. “At least stay till tomorrow so we can meet for coffee. I’m sure Dean ‘ll still be out with Gumby.”

“We should probably call that poor woman by her actual name,” you giggled. “But sure. I’ll stay till then.”

“Great!” You could practically hear Sam grinning on the other end of the phone. “I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Bye, Sammy.”

***

Someone pounding on your door at around one in the morning woke you up with a start. Swiftly, you put the barrel of your gun to the door and listened because there was no peephole for you to look through. You opened the door a crack when you heard nothing for a moment to reveal Dean staring at the ground before looking up at you.

Shocked, you slammed the door in his face and threw your gun at your bed. Unfortunately, you’d forgotten to lock the door behind you, and Dean waltzed into your bedroom.

“(Y/N), you can’t leave,” the man told you.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Dean? How did you even find me?!” you cried. “What, you think after three weeks of not talking I’m just gonna let you— Especially after you just fucked Gumby Girl—!” You began pacing around the room.

“I didn’t fuck Gumby Girl, (Y/N),” he said softly, still standing close to the door.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, suddenly very aware of the underwear and oversized band t-shirt you wore to bed that night. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, still staring at the ground. His hands stayed in his leather jacket pockets. “Couldn’t bring myself to even try.”

You threw your arms out in frustration. “What, am I supposed to forgive you for not fucking one out of the many Sam’s been telling me about you being with since I left?!”

Dean seemed stunned.

“Yeah! So, I’m sorry, but you’re not just gonna waltz in here and act like everything’s fine and dandy,” you chortled coldly.

“Are you gonna give me a chance to explain myself?” he questioned angrily.

“Why should I?” you scoffed.

“Because you love me! I thought that was the whole point!” he argued.

You stared him down, eyebrows drawn together. “Well, you obviously don’t love or respect me enough not to go fuck random girls literal days after I leave.”

“I do!” he shot back. “Would you just fucking listen? I was drinking alone when Sam thought I was with those other chicks.”

You said nothing, still glaring at him.

“I didn’t fuck any of them, (Y/N), ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you!”

Tension hung thick in the air between the two of you, and you looked up at him with dewey eyes. When you couldn’t stand to hold his gaze anymore, you turned away. “Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you… say it back? Say anything back?” Your voice broke while you talked. 

“I should’ve,” Dean replied quietly. “I- I’m sorry I didn’t.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have left you guys with those demons.”

You felt Dean’s fingers gently graze your arm, and he waited for you to flinch away for a moment. When you didn’t, he reached out and gingerly turned you to face him and held you to his chest. 

You melted into him almost immediately and let all of the emotion you’d been holding back for the past three weeks out. He rested his head on top of yours and just held you there for a minute. 

“I can’t watch you die, Dean,” you told him, still hugging him tightly. “I can’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “Can you just… stick around till my time is up?” He gently pushed you away from him slightly to turn your eyes up to meet his gaze. “Please? It’s my dying wish.”

You giggled through your tears but nodded. You immediately dove back into his chest. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whispered. 

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he said, voice beginning to shake. “But I couldn’t let ‘im die, (Y/N). I couldn’t do it.” “I know,” you nodded. 

The two of you stood there holding each other once more until Dean spoke up again. “And, uh… ditto, by the way.”

“What?” you snorted, pulling away from him. 

“What you said… at Bobby’s,” he explained, avoiding your eyes.

“You love me?” you asked, smiling lopsidedly.

Dean just nodded. 

“And you told me just by saying ‘ditto’?” You burst out into laughter at Dean’s attempt at vulnerability. 

Dean went red in the face and turned away. 

“No, no!” you said, immediately quieting down. “It’s just— that was so cute. You’re adorable when you can’t emote properly.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, tilting your chin up to kiss you passionately and effectively silence your laughter. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck immediately; almost like a reflex. 

When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against Dean’s. 

“You know I’m not letting you leave again,” he said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled. 

***

You sat on the bed facing a shirtless Dean who was reclining against the headboard on a pillow while he told you his story from yesterday. He lazily drew circles on your outermost hip with his thumb as he talked. 

“So, I went to her house, right? ‘Cause… y’know. Gumby Girl,” he began sheepishly. “And, uh, turns out, she’s got a son.”

“Jesus, really?” you replied. “I forget most people have kids at our age.”

“See, this is where it gets interesting,” Dean continued. “So I go out to the backyard, and I see this kid, and (Y/N), I’m telling you, he looked just like me. Acted just like me, too. It felt like fuckin’ Freaky Friday.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” he cut you off. “But no. Lisa said he’s not mine.”

“How do you know she’s not lying?” you asked. You finally processed the story Dean was telling you, and realization washed over you in tidal waves. “You could have a child. You might be his father. What the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he said. “It’s freakin’ me out, man. But that’s not all.”

“Dean, if this involves a paternity test that names you as a match, I’m gonna start freakin’ out,” you said.

“No, no, it doesn’t. At least, not yet,” he chuckled. 

You glared at him.

He laughed. “Anyway, I think there really is a case here. One of those kids at the party was weird.”

“Yeah, Dean, kids are weird. Any other earth-shattering news I should be aware of?” you snorted.

Dean deadpanned at you. “You know what I mean. She wasn’t standin’ all the way upright—”

“Maybe she just has scoliosis—” you cut in.

Dean kept talking over you. “—And she kept glaring at everybody—”

“—I glare at everybody—” you continued.

“—And it’s the kid whose dad fell on the power saw.”

You considered for a moment. “Okay, maybe there is something happening. But it could also just be how her grief is manifesting.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N), all kinds of freaky accidents have been happening all over the neighborhood,” Dean explained further. “People fallin’ off ladders, drowning in hot tubs—”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” you sighed.

“What’s your hold-up with all this?” he asked.

“Whaddya think, Dean,” you deadpanned.

“What, Lisa?” He seemed genuinely shocked. 

“I just think we should leave this town in our rearview mirror. Y’know, between Gumby Girl and her kid that’s potentially yours— oh, god,” you muttered when you fully realized Dean might have a son.

“(Y/N), he’s probably not mine. I mean, she said he wasn’t,” Dean reminded you.

“Somehow, that’s not making me feel better,” you grumbled. 

Dean pulled you down toward him and gently kissed your lips.

“Dean—” you tried, but he cut you off with another kiss. “Dean—” and he kissed you again, “—you can’t just—” another kiss, “distract me with this stuff—” another kiss, “—when we’re in the middle of a serious discussion.”

Dean kissed you once more and pulled you to straddle his hips. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” you smiled against his lips.

When Dean tried to grind up into you, though, you suddenly jerked back from him. 

He looked up at you in concern. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears swimming in your eyes. “I— I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s—”

“It’s okay,” Dean assured you. “We don’t have to do anything. It’s alright.”

You laid down on Dean’s chest, closing your eyes and trying to steady your breathing. Dean kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. Oh, how grateful you were to know him.

***

Later that day, you and Dean walked back to the Impala after investigating a few of the houses where accidents had happened recently. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; no cold spots, no EMF, nothing resembling a creature’s lair. It was all very “Stepford” in Dean’s opinion.

When you’d almost reached the car, Dean abruptly grabbed your arm. You gasped slightly and turned to face the direction he was. 

“That’s him,” Dean whispered. “That’s the kid.”

You looked ahead at a little boy with spiky brown hair wearing a canvas jacket sitting sadly on a park bench. 

Dean slid his hand down your arm to your hand and pulled you along with him. “Hey, Ben,” he told the kid.

The boy looked up at Dean. “Hey. You were at my party.” Ben seemed to notice you for the first time. “ ‘Sup?” the little guy nodded at you, attempting to smirk through his apparent sadness. 

‘Jesus, this really might be Dean’s kid,’ you thought. 

“I'm Dean, this is (Y/N),” he said, sitting down next to Ben on the bench. You stood next to Dean cautiously. “Everything okay? Something wrong?” Dean asked Ben, who didn’t respond. 

You noticed the empty gaming console case Ben was holding and looked out to the field to see a group of four boys playing with something that looked just about the size to fit the case.

“Is that your game they're playing with?” the older Winchester asked Ben.

The little boy  wouldn’t look at you or Dean. “Ryan Humphrey borrowed it, and now, he won't give it back.”

Dean was immediately ready to beat up eight-year-olds. “Well, you want me to go—”

“No!” Ben exclaimed, grabbing Dean’s arm. “Don't go over there! Only bitches send a grown-up.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not wrong.”

This whole interaction was completely flooring you; rendering you unable to add anything to the conversation.

“And I am not a bitch,” Ben finished.

Dean pointed to a boy wearing long cargo shorts holding the gaming console. “Is that Humphrey? The one that needs to lay off the burgers?”

The little boy smiled and nodded.

Dean hummed. 

“Dean, what are you—”

He ignored you and turned to Ben to talk to him in a hushed voice. You couldn’t quite hear what Dean was telling him to do, and you were puzzled when Ben got up from the bench and started walking over to the group of boys.

“They’re gonna eat that poor kid alive, dude, what were you thinking?” you chastised him, shoving his shoulder lightly. 

“Just watch,” Dean urged.

Ben turned back around to the two of you, and Dean offered him a thumbs-up and a grin. 

A moment later, Ben turned away from the bullies before whipping back around and kicking the boy holding his game straight between his legs twice.

“Dean, what the fuck,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

Ben walked back to you and Dean, triumphantly smiling and holding his game. “Thanks! Dude, that was awesome!”

Suddenly, a gorgeous woman stormed up to you, Dean, and Ben. “Benjamin Isaac Braeden! What has gotten into you?!”

“Gumby Girl,” you realized. 

Dean smacked your thigh lightly to get you to be quiet.

“He stole my game!” Ben tried to explain.

“So you kick him? Since when is—” she looked down at Dean and scoffed. “Did you tell my son to beat up that kid?”

“What?” Dean was still smiling. “Somebody had to teach him how to kick the bully in the nads.”

“Who asked you to teach him anything?” Lisa argued.

“You’re right, he’s sorry,” you said, trying to pull Dean away.

“What are you even still doing here? We had one weekend together a million years ago. You don't know me. And you have no business with my son,” Lisa raged, grabbing Ben’s hand to walk off with him. “Just leave us alone.”

“He will!” you asserted, to both Lisa and Dean. 

Ben broke out of his mother’s grip and ran back to Dean, wrapping his arms around his legs in a tight hug. 

“Thanks,” Ben smiled up at Dean.

Your heart melted and broke at the sight. 

As Ben returned to his mother, you saw three children a few yards beyond them standing in a straight line and turning their heads in tandem. Dean seemed to have noticed, too, and the two of you decided to get out of there as quickly as possible.

When you got into the Impala, you couldn’t say a word. 

Dean looked over at you. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” you replied.

“You look like you’re suckin’ on a lemon. C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

“He really does seem like your kid,” was all you could manage to say.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“And, uh, if that does end up being the case—”

“Whoa, what?” Dean cut you off. “Since when am I following up with that?”

You sighed. “I don’t know, Dean, if you are his father, the kid deserves to have you in his life.”

“Sweetheart, the best thing I can do for that kid is get the hell away from him,” Dean replied. “He doesn’t need to be anywhere near me or this life.”

“Why?” you said. “ ‘Cause you think you’d be bad at it? You were great with him today.— y'know, aside from encouraging assault.”

“Yeah, (Y/N), for two seconds,” he said. “Why are you pushing this anyway?”

You paused. “I don’t know, I thought it might just be good for you. Give you an opportunity to live out your last year in peace. Happy.”

Dean’s posture softened, and he said nothing for a moment. “Thanks, but no. I’d take you and huntin’ evil sons of bitches over Middle America any day.” He reached out to you and pulled you to him, placing a kiss to the side of your head. 

***

When you arrived at the boys’ motel room, Sam was at his laptop researching. 

“Somethin’s wrong with the kids in this town,” you told him as you took your jacket off.

Sam replied without looking away from his computer, “Yeah. Tell me about it. So, what do you know about changelings?”

“Evil monster babies?” Dean questioned.

“No, not babies,” you chimed in.

“They're kids,” Dean realized. “Creepy, ‘stare at you like you're lunch’ kids?”

Sam nodded. “There's one at every victim's house.”

“Oh, that’s just perfect,” you mumbled.

“What?” Sam questioned. 

“We got a pile of missing kids being kept in a hole somewhere and a fuckton of changelings we gotta torch. Dean, where’s your kerosene?”

“Already on it,” he said, leaving the room.

“So, I’m guessing you talked things out,” Sam said once the door closed behind Dean.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled playfully. 

“So… you’re not leaving?” Sam questioned.

“No. Not yet, anyway,” you said, tone becoming more serious. “I’ll be there to tell him ‘bye,’ but I won’t watch him get dragged to hell. I can’t do that, Sam.”

The younger Winchester paused. “I get it. Hopefully, we won’t have to.”

Dean came back into the room not a moment later holding his torch and grinning.

“You and your gadgets,” you laughed warmly. 

“So, changelings can perfectly mimic children,” Sam began. “According to lore, they climb in the window, snatch the kid. Y'know, there were marks on the windowsill at one of the kid's houses. Looked to me like blood.”

“The changeling grabs a kid, assumes its form, joins the happy fam just for kicks?” Dean questioned.

“I wish that were the case,” you said. “Changelings feed on the mom’s synovial fluid. Sam, did you notice any strange bruising on their backs? It’d be just below the base of their neck?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Sam asked you. 

“It’s the typical spot they feed from,” you replied. “On the end of their creepy, face-hugger-from-Alien tongues, they have these little spines that extend through the body to reach all those spaces between the joints. Pretty gnarly injuries.”

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Changelings can drain them for a few weeks before mom finally croaks.”

“And then, there's dad and the babysitter,” Dean added, referencing two of the victims.

“Yeah. Seems like anyone who gets between the changeling and its food source ends up dead,” Sam finished.

“And fire’s the only way to kill ‘em,” you said, nodding at Dean’s torch. “See why I was worried about all this?”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “Great.”

“According to lore, they stash the kids underground somewhere,” Sam continued, “I don't know why, but if it's true, the real kids might be out there.”

“We better start looking,” Dean asserted, seeming to have something on his mind.

“What?” you asked.

He hesitated before answering you with a question. “Any kid in the neighborhood is vulnerable?”

You nodded.

“We gotta make a stop. I wanna check on someone,” Dean told you, and you knew he meant Ben.

Dean held your gaze as Sam began to protest. “Well Dean, if the real kids are still alive, we don't have time. We—”

“We have to,” Dean stated firmly. 

***

Throughout the drive to Lisa’s house, you tried your best to remain calm. You weren’t truly worried about the potential that Ben could’ve been kidnapped or by the fact that Dean was upset, it was the thought of Lisa and Ben potentially taking Dean away from you. You knew your fear was irrational and maybe even a bit toxic, but you still worried that maybe Dean was still attracted to Lisa. Or maybe Dean was Ben’s dad and would be obligated to see and spend time around the two of them. The thought nearly made you throw up while you watched Dean knock on Lisa’s door. 

You saw Lisa yelling at him, and Dean ran back over to the Impala seeming incredibly worried. “They took Ben. He's changed,” Dean explained, hurriedly getting into the car.

“What?! Are you sure?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I'm sure. I checked his windowsill,” the older brother nodded.

“Blood?” 

“I don't think it is blood, and I think I know where the kids are.”

***

Dean drove quickly toward a house under construction with a large mound of red dirt sitting on the lawn outside of it. The exterior of the home was almost finished, and the “For Sale” sign on the lawn was stained partially by the dirt.

“Red dirt,” Sam noted, bending down to inspect the sign. “That's what was on the window.”

“Ah, you take the front,” Dean told Sam. “(Y/N), take the left side; I got the other.”

You nodded and set off, gun and flashlight drawn. You crept around the corners of the house until you came to a set of doors angled down to a cellar. You jumped down into it and found small, empty cages lining the walls.

“What do you think you're doing?” a voice suddenly asked from behind you. 

You looked up at the entrance of the cellar to see a redheaded woman glaring at you. 

“You’re staying here until I can get the police here,” the woman said, pulling out her phone.

“Wait, wait,” you tried. “I’m sorry, I was just looking for a place to stay for the night.”

“Then why do you have a gun?” she hissed.

“Self-defense,” you replied coolly. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

The redhead tsked and shook her head. “I don’t think you will.” She stood from the entrance to the cellar and closed both doors on you.

“Wait, no!” You rushed toward the doors, but it was too late. She had latched them shut by the time you got to them. Immediately, you started banging on the doors and trying to get them open. You turned around to one of the cages and picked it up, hurling it at the closed doors. You tried again and again, using the cage to hit the door, your shoulder to slam into it, and even tried using a piece of wire from the cage to take off the hinges, but nothing worked. Helplessly, you banged on the door and screamed for Sam and Dean.

Suddenly, you began to smell smoke.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought, breath quickening with urgency. You slammed your body into the doors as hard as you could manage. 

Across the cellar from you, the flames began to catch the ceiling, creating a gaping hole in the floor for debris and fiery planks of wood to fall through. You slammed into the doors once more, screaming for Dean. 

The smoke in the room began to fill your lungs and forced a cough out of you. You screamed Dean’s name again hoarsely, turning around briefly to see the fire had spread incredibly close to you. If you didn’t get out soon, the whole building would collapse on your head.

“Dean, please!” you screamed. 

Suddenly, you heard the door to the cellar unlatching.

“(Y/N)?!”

“Dean!” you cried.

He threw the doors open and pulled you out of the smoldering building. He quickly checked you over for injuries, cupping the sides of your face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go!” You grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him around to the front of the house, running as fast as your legs would carry you as flames taunted you dangerously close to your face. You ran across the street to where Sam was standing with a crowd of terrified children and Ben. 

“Sam!” you exclaimed. “Everybody okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Sam replied. 

Ben seemed shaken up, but he was trying to comfort the other kids around him. You smiled down at him. Dean was exactly the same way. No matter what was going on in his own head, he always checked on the needs of others first. It was one of the things you loved most about him; he was always showing you what compassion truly looked like. 

***

When the fire department had come and the children— all except for one— had been returned home, you and the boys drove Ben back to Lisa’s house. 

“Ben?!” the woman called, running out of the house. “Baby, are you okay?”

Ben ran to his mom and hugged her. “I'm okay, Mom.”

“Oh, my god,” Lisa sobbed. “What the hell just happened?”

“I'll explain everything if you want me to,” Dean started, “but, trust me, you probably don't. The important thing is that Ben's safe.”

“Thank you,” Lisa surged forward and hugged Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean seemed hesitant for which you were thankful, but still returned her hug.

Ben turned to head into his house, and Lisa moved to follow. She turned back to Dean apprehensively. “Do you— wanna come inside?” she asked. 

“Uh, no thanks,” Dean replied. “We, uh, gotta hit the road.”

Lisa nodded, deflating slightly. 

“But… you’re a hundred-percent sure Ben’s not mine, right?” Dean asked. 

She nodded and smiled. “You're off the hook. I did a blood test when he was a baby.”

“Oh,” Dean replied. “Good.”

“I... I swear you look disappointed,” Lisa noted.

“Yeah, I don't know. It's weird, you know your life... I mean, this house and a kid…” he trailed off. “It's not my life. Never will be. Some stuff happened to me recently, and, uh... Anyway, a guy in my situation— you start to think, y’know. I'm gonna be gone one day, and what am I leaving behind besides a car?”

“I don't know. Ben may not be your kid, but,” Lisa began, “he wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. That's a lot if you ask me.”

Dean nodded and turned back to you and his brother who stood by the car watching silently. “You know, just for the record…” He turned back to Lisa.  “You got a great kid. I would've been proud to be his dad.”

Lisa smiled at him, as did you, before Dean headed back to the driver’s seat. For once, Sam let you sit in the passenger’s seat, and you popped a Faith No More cassette into the Impala’s built-in player. 

***

A few hours into the drive, Sam had fallen asleep. You and Dean were left holding each other’s hand in silent support; a reassurance the other was there and okay. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier? To Lisa?” you murmured.

“About what?”

“Leaving nothing behind except a car?” you continued.

“Aw, c’mon—” Dean sighed. 

“No, Dean. That’s crap,” you quietly said. “You have a legacy. Everything you’ve ever done has been out of love and compassion. That is who you are. That’s what you’re leaving behind.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward you, his expression unreadable. He was quite literally the only person to ever confuse your intuitive, watchful eye with his thoughtful, complicated expressions. 

The older Winchester turned his eyes back to the road and brought your entwined hands to his lips, kissing the backs of your knuckles. 

You reveled in the feeling, knowing the feeling of his lips on your skin in this moment, the pattern of Sam’s breathing steadily in the backseat, and the way his hand felt in yours would be a memory you’d need to hold onto when he was gone. Maybe that way, you’d be able to find peace; knowing that not even death could completely tear Dean away from you. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[bones4thecats]

➸ Death v. Life; Eliza / Idia Shroud × S/O

Character: Eliza and Idia Shroud (separate, but in same part) A/N: The ending was kind of rushed, but I hope it's a good read for you Idia Shroud simps! Disclaimer(s): In this timeline, Eliza kidnaps the Reader and not Idia. This means she 'loves' the Reader and not our favorite flame-headed introvert. Btw; Reader's Outfit and Brooch

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Eliza vs. Idia Shroud ═══════════════════════╝

💍🎮 You walked around the campus with your headphones blaring the playlist that Yuu had made you the day prior. It was very energetic, which you appreciated

💍🎮 The announcement of a Ghost Bride coming by was shown to everyone in the vicinity, but you believed you would be far from her taste. You were far from the average person, from a young age you got intro trouble, which became to much for your body to handle

💍🎮 You had run through the nearby forest when you were young and ended up getting your body extremely injured during your little 'quest'. Thankfully, a passerby found you and brought you to the hospital where they had to give you multiple surgeries to amputate the right arm, both legs, and left eye of yours replaced or enhanced

💍🎮 Because of the enhancements made, you had a full tech-based pair of legs, single arm, and parts of it inside of your eye. Growing up was hard after that, as you grew fearful of the outside world and became a recluse, but you were growing out of your shell since you met Yuu and they began helping you talk to others again

💍🎮 You adored the magic-less human, while many found him annoying and a waste of space at the school, you thought they fit in perfectly. After all, what human of no value could handle things like overblots multiple times without dying?

💍🎮 As your mind raced with the thoughts of your human companion and his cat, Grim, you failed to hear the sounds of movement behind you. Only when you felt something rush past you that you took your headphones off and readied your magic wand, veins starting to glow as your magical energy charged for a spell

"Who's there? Reveal yourself!" You ordered, looking at the nearby bushes.

💍🎮 The next thing you knew, you were seeing nothing but the darkness that matched the halls of Ignihyde before passing out cold and being wrapped in a sack

══✿══╡

💍🎮 Groaning as your eyes slowly opened, you were shocked to see you being bound by your wrists as a ghost busied himself with your hair, styling the long-locks into a long ponytail with a lace-braid. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried focusing on your surroundings

"Where... ugh... where am I?" You asked.

"In your dressing room, Lord/Lady L/N." He answered, adding a tiny brooch on the lapel of the suit jacket.

💍🎮 The ghost then floated to the door and nodded at two ghost knights, causing them to come inside and begin dragging you out of the room and down the halls. You yelled, trying to get out of their grasp, but you kept failing. Despite being dead, they were extremely strong with their grip

"Let me go, you sick assholes!"

"I recommend you stay silent unless you wish to disrespect your future wife."

"My future what?!"

══✿══╡

🎮 Ortho rushed through the halls at full-speed. Ignihyde dorm members were all balled up in their rooms while he dashed by, they all knew that it was the little robot who was going by, but they could care less about the entire issue at the moment

🎮 As he approached his brother's room, he checked the Night Raven College's camera footage and his eyes widened even more as he saw you being practically dragged down the aisle to where that ghost bride stood, awaiting your presence across from her

"Big brother! Y/N needs help!" He yelled.

🎮 Idia jumped and screamed, clinging onto a nearby blanket as his heart pounded quickly in fear. He then stood up with a small shake as he asked what was going on with Ortho

"Y/N needs help, Idia!"

"What do you mean? Did their arms or something start glitching? They've fixed it before..."

"No, big brother... you remember the announcement about the Ghost Bride?"

"...yeah?"

"She has Y/N! They're all dressed up and everything so the bride can marry them!"

"WHAT?!" He yelled, hair going from a calm, almost ocean-like blue, to a vibrant orange and red, matching the fire it looked like.

🎮 Ortho nodded and began to recant everything he heard from the other first years. As the third-year listened to the boys telling him everything that happened, from being kicked out for trying to save you from your dressing room to making their plan to get back inside to get you back safe

"Idia, you need to help save them."

"Do I need too?"

"YES."

"...fine."

══✿══╡

💍 Eliza smiled as you were walked down the aisle to where you would stand across from her. She always wanted this, the perfect spouse. She always believed she was to marry a prince that fit her description down to the dot, but now she wanted you, not that old dream instilled in her

💍 You kept struggling against the guards as the other NRC students watched with slight fear and guilt for you being in this situation. Everyone knew you had some issues with being forced in things, but this was a whole other level

"My future spouse, you look amazing." Eliza said as you stood across from her, arms still bound behind your back.

"Please... let me go." You said.

"I'm sorry, but no. You'll understand after a while."

💍 As the Minister opened his book to speak the whole story to you both, the doors were slammed open and there revealed Ortho, eyes overwhelmed with anger, the other first years (including Yuu and Grim), with matching expressions, and Idia, who's hair was erupted in complete rage

"Let Y/N go."

"Yeah! They asked nicely more times than necessary!" Yuu yelled.

💍🎮 The Ghost Bride narrowed her eyes in anger as she began yelling about how inconsiderate they were of her special day

"I'll give you one last warning, you blue brat. Let my S/O go, or I'll open the gates of the Underworld and throw you from your neck back to the pits where you deserve to be!"

💍🎮 Eliza flinched and screamed, sending her many guards after the group while everyone else watched in shock. You began to struggle again, making a guard look at you and grab your arm, twisting it backwards more to hurt you

"Sucks for you, buddy. My right arm isn't even real." You said, sending your head back to bash him backwards.

💍🎮 The guard when flying as the other boys saw you fight back with your arms pulled backwards. You then heard Epel yell your name, he ran up and pulled out a knife. How he had that without Vil knowing, you really could care less, if it got you out, it got you out

"Thanks, Epel." You said, taking your body and throwing it to get some of the guards down.

💍🎮 A scream was the thing that burst everyone out of their fights. You looked backwards and saw Idia standing above the princess, anger ever so present on his face. He glared at her and gave her one of the most horrifying threats you ever heard leave his mouth

"If you touch my S/O again, I'll take my magic pen and make you fall so many times down into the Underworld that you'll wish you died a second time, got me?"

💍🎮 You sighed and ran up to them, pushing them farther apart. Idia snapped out of his anger and looked at you closer. He was shocked. You look absolutely amazing in your outfit. Those ghosts may have kidnapped you, but they knew how to dress you

"Idia, I'm fine now. Let the Ghost Bride lady go."

"Princess Eliza, are you alright?!" A guard yelled as he helped her up from the ground.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."

💍🎮 Idia looked at you and sighed, hugging you. It was obvious that he blocked everyone else out and only saw you there at the moment, as he was being very bold at the moment

"Eliza, is it?" You asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you know what consent is?" You asked again, making her eyes slightly widen.

"What?"

"Do you know what consent is?"

"It's the permission to do something with someone, why?"

"Do you think you had my consent to do this wedding with me being the one betrothed to you?"

"...No."

"Then why would you proceed with this idea?"

"I don't... I don't know..."

"If you want love this badly, just look behind you. He obviously cares about you more than anyone I've ever seen. What guard looks at their princess with so much care that they would risk everything for them? Certainly not one that views them platonically, that's for sure."

💍🎮 Eliza looked at the guard, whom was named Puffy, with a shocked expression and they spoke. Confronting one another and their possible feelings and future

💍🎮 You just smiled as Puffy confessed and took your good arm and grabbed Idia's hand, pulling him gently away from the crowd to a more secluded area to speak by yourselves

"I can't believe you came in here with so much confidence. I always thought I'd only see you look like that by yourself playing a video game." You joked, making Idia fluster and look away.

"But. Thank you so much for doing this for me. I love you, Idia."

"I love you more, player two."

[thebat-musicman]

The Playlist™

My 12 hour Batfam playlist (with repeating songs!)

The repeating version has 200 songs and is 12 hours. Non repeating has 167 songs and is 9 hours and 54 minutes.

I am so sorry to whatever poor souls are reading this just trying to find good songs for their faves

@batfambrainrotbeloved it’s done

The bat-playlist from hell is under the cut

Alfred

Be our guest

Let it be

Sweet caroline

You are my sunshine

God is really real

Istanbul (not Constantinople)

50 ways to say goodbye (him faking Bruce’s death when he went training)

What was I made for

No time to die

James Bond theme

I got you

Child of Mine

Little Lion man

You’ll be in my heart

Never grow up

Edelweiss

Baby mine

Friend like me

My heart will go on

Bruce

Never grow up

Everything has changed

I hate it here

I look in people’s windows

imgonnagetyouback

Karma (AJR)

Humpty Dumpty

Inertia

Two birds

Cat’s in the cradle

Song for Orphans

Tears in heaven

Heart of stone

Robin

Whatever it takes

ocean eyes

Migraine

I’ll make a man out of you

Under the Sea

Beautiful Boy (darling boy)

Babs

The story of us

Just a girl

Clara Bow

Role Models

Break my face

The DJ is crying for help

Little miss perfect

She used to be mine

Mastermind

Pretty distraction

So high school

How did it end

Fight song

You should see me in a crown

The man

Runs the world (girls)

I bet you think about me

Inertia

Ours

Part of your world

Dick

I can do it with a broken heart

Touchy feely fool

Never grow up

The Bolter

Surface Pressure

You’re on your own, kid

Because of you

Karma (AJR)

Way less sad

Perfect (simple plan)

Father of mine

This is me trying

Count on me

The Greatest Show

No way

Mr. Perfectly fine

Dancing Queen

Show and Tell

How far I’ll go

Used to be young

Cass

Who’s afraid of little old me

Cassandra

The Albatross

Father of mine

You’re on your own, kid

Heart of stone

Fight song

Everybody wants to rule the world

She used to be mine

Family Line

Because of you

Roar

You should see me in a crown

I won’t

When will my life begin

The prophecy

I hate it here

Speechless

I’ve got a dream

Blackbird

Jason

The Prophecy

Mr. Perfectly fine

Better than Revenge

I did something bad

My tears ricochet

Vigilante shit

You’re gonna go far, kid

Time of dying

Deja vu

good 4 u

Because of you

Father of mine

These boots were made for walking

Fuck you

One way or another

Bang! Pow! Boom!

Be prepared

One jump ahead

Vampire

I think I’m gonna like it here (baby jason needs a song)

Steph

Record Player

Turning out Pt. II

The Dumb Song

Just a girl

Cardigan

The Man

But daddy I love him

the manuscript

Guilty as Sin?

Father of mine

Dead!

Teenagers

You’re on your own, kid

Mr. Perfectly Fine

High school sweethearts

Drama Club

My Play

Devil Town

This is love (air traffic controller)

I won’t say (I’m in love)

Tim

Ur gonna wish u believed me

Yes I’m a mess

Karma (AJR)

Mastermind

Don’t blame me

Fool

Wow, I’m not crazy

Humpty Dumpty

Good 4 u

Pretender (Acoustic)

Mister Cellophane

Come hang out

Let the games begin

Heart of stone

brutal

Deja vu

Every breath you take

The sound of silence

Go the distance

Viva La Vida

Duke

Here comes the sun

Walking on sunshine

I see the light

How do I say goodbye

The Prophecy

Turning out

Sunshine lollipops and rainbows

Teenagers

Our song

Demons

I’m still standing

Waiting on a miracle

I’m not famous

Paper rings

We didn’t start the fire

Everybody dies

What was I made for

I’ll follow the sun

Sunflower

Into the Unknown

Damian

Insane

Oh no!

Surface Pressure

Control

The good part

Role models

Mother knows best

Bad guy

What else can I do

Devil Town

Bones

Rät

Maniac

Losing my religion

(Don’t fear) The Reaper

Heathens

Pumped up kicks

Go the distance

A whole new world

I just can’t wait to be king

[amywritesthings]

it's my (second) favorite time of the year!

since i have had one (1) wisp of crisp fall air, i have been dying to write some fall time fun / halloween-related drabbles to KO my burnout and get back into the writing spirit. i totally don't know what i'm doing, but we're gonna vibe anyway to celebrate the season + my milestone of 2.5k+ followers!

some housekeeping rules !!

anyone can participate. (haaay followers how are you?)

you can send as many prompts, questions, + game items as you'd like!

if you're like 'dang amy i wish you'd write this blorbo but it's not on your prompt list of possibilities' please send it anyway!

i may not answer a drabble or ficlet prompt due to muse, time, etc but please do not take this personally.

i won't interact with anything hateful or nasty about a character, ship, show etc. i don't care for negativity, so please keep it on your doorstep and not mine!

have fun!! this is meant to be silly fun! event submissions end 11/01.

activities !!

FICLET/DRABBLES | feel free to send me prompts from links one, two, three, or send me a totally original idea. they can be halloween / fall related, or a random au idea connected to a story i have already written.

ASK ME ANYTHING | got a burning question about a story of mine? have inquiries for me as an author? dying to know my thoughts on a certain show, movie, or video game? just wanna ask what my favorite color is? send it in!

GAMES | fuck - marry - kill: blorbo edition, 3-song playlists for canons (ships or solo) or self ships, truth or dare, etc.

FOR THE LOVELY MUTUALS | send a 🎃 and i'll write you a lil note

characters/fandoms under the cut:

attack on titan — levi ackerman, armin arlert, eren yeager, annie leonhart, hange zoe, erwin smith, jean kirstein

jujutsu kaisen — gojo satoru, choso kamo, megumi fushiguro, yuuta okkotsu, inumaki toge, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, sukuna

my hero academia — bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, kirishima eijirou, toshinori yagi, todoroki shoto, dabi, hawks

fields of mistria — march, orlic

wind breaker — sakura, umemiya

baldur's gate 3 — astarion

love and deepspace — xavier, sylus

pedro universe — din djarin, joel miller, dieter bravo

please note: i'm happy to write polyship/threesome dynamics as well

[anonymous-dentist]

REBLOGS WELCOME! :D

-

So therapy is going well.

-

“And you know what? You know what else, Mariana?”

“Yes? What?”

Slime leans closer, a sneer on his face as he says: “Your sex playlist sucks.”

And that is too far. Too far. 

Mariana tackles him out of his chair with an offended roar, ignoring Roier’s cries from the other side of the desk. 

“Gentleman, please!” Roier protests. “Not in the office, please! Take it outside!”

Slime’s face screws up in anger. He grabs Mariana’s shoulders, nails digging in through the spandex of Mariana’s suit. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low. He meets Mariana’s eyes and brings his head closer; almost reflexively, Mariana does the same until their noses are brushing. 

“Is that what you want?” Slime repeats, his breath ghosting over Mariana’s lips. “Do you want to take it outside, Mariana?”

“Oh my God,” Roier says. 

“No,” Mariana replies. “I want you to kiss me.”

And he does.

-

Really, therapy is going well. Better than Mariana had expected, what with the single least experienced person on the island acting as his therapist. Because Roier of all people was obviously the best choice, ignore his murderous grudge against his ex… whatever, and his fun new hobby of putting children in pits to fight to the death. The guy whose last relationship ended in literal murder is obviously the best person to be the island’s court-mandated couples’ counselor. 

But, well, it’s working, surprisingly enough. Slime hasn’t wished death upon Mariana in days, and Mariana is almost allowed to tuck their daughter into bed. And Flippa? She’s happier than ever (though, really, that isn’t saying much.)

-

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Mariana? I’m meditating. Just like the doctor ordered.”

The chainsaw in Slime’s lap disagrees with that statement. As does the blood spattered across his face. And the dying BadBoyHalo groaning on the floor in front of him.

Bad rolls onto his back and looks up at Mariana pleadingly. He mouths, ‘help me’.

Flippa stands over him holding a gun three times too big for her tiny little egg hands. She waves it cheerfully in greeting as she notices Mariana in the doorway.

Mariana rolls his eyes and groans, throwing his arms into the air. “Chinga su madre, man, what did I tell you? Stop killing people on the rug! Do you know how hard it is to clean it?”

Bad coughs blood onto said rug indignantly. Bastard.

“Well, maybe people shouldn’t try and kill our daughter on the rug,” Slime calmly responds. He speaks slowly, and Mariana is thankful for it. His translator can only work so fast, and most of his husband’s murderous rampages go by too quickly for the translator to pick up. It’s a pain.

“Oh, is that what happened?” Mariana asks. 

Slowly, he walks towards Bad, whose eyes are slowly draining of life. He’s got maybe ten more seconds left before he’s forced to respawn. Mariana could save him right now. 

He pulls out his sword instead. 

Juanaflippa backs up, already covered in too much blood for her tastes. 

“He-” Mariana points at Slime. “-is the only person allowed to kill eggs. Mamahuevo, fuck you.”

As soon as Bad is dead, Slime jumps to his feet and pulls Mariana into a bruising kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. The chainsaw digs into Mariana’s back slightly, but it’s hard to pay attention to that when his husband is right there. 

“You are so hot when you’re killing people,” Slime murmurs. 

And Mariana doesn’t quite understand what he said, his translator out of sight, but he knows when he’s being sweet talked well enough. 

“Me encantas,” Mariana says. “Now…” (What are the words?) “...put the chainsaw down and take me to bed.”

And he does.

-

Once, there was a time when Mariana couldn’t remember why he married Slime. Well. He still doesn’t know why he married Slime, or when. It just sort of happened one day, and maybe they should have gotten divorced long ago for Flippa’s sake. But, hey, they got married before they even knew each other. They spent most of their marriage apart. Now that they’re being forced together, Mariana can definitely see the appeal of being married to Slime. He’s funny, and he’s smart, and he’s very attractive. Who cares if he’s literally made out of slime? That just makes him special. 

A human, a slime, and an egg. What a family. 

-

Juanaflippa is still learning how to write. Her English is messy, but her Spanish is messier. Mariana tries not to think that it’s his fault for not being there for her, but he also knows that it is kind of his fault. He knows that, so Slime doesn’t need to keep rubbing it in like the asshole he is. 

“Oh, wow, Flippa! That’s great!” Slime coos upon being presented with Flippa’s most recent attempt at signmaking. Mariana can’t really understand what’s written, but he thinks that he knows one or two words: ‘mom’ and ‘dad’. 

Flippa hops up and down excitedly and quickly scrambles back up to her room to get another sign to work on. 

Mariana idly watches her go, sprawled out across Slime’s couch with his translator in his hand ticking away. One annoying thing about his husband is how fast he talks, it’s impossible to keep up. Literally impossible. Luckily, Mariana’s been working on his English when he’s been alone, so he can at least try to figure out what’s going on without having his translator out all of the time. 

Slime sighs and slumps onto the couch by Mariana’s feet. Without hesitation, Mariana kicks his legs up onto Slime’s lap; Slime doesn’t move them. 

“She’s learning so fast…” Slime says. 

Mariana nods. “Yes, you are a good teacher.”

“Yeah, I sure am.”

The accusation is left unsaid, but Mariana hears it, anyway. 

Lightly, he kicks Slime in the chest. “Hey, fuck you. I’ve been trying.”

“I’m sure you have,” Slime responds, and the condescension is dripping so thickly from his voice that it’s in a puddle on the floor. Or maybe that’s just Slime himself. 

Mariana kicks him again. He doesn’t say anything, though, because maybe therapy has been working. A week ago, they would have been yelling by now. Today, though? He’s happy enough to stew in his discontent. 

He likes the quiet, anyway. Slime is a lot prettier when he isn’t screaming his head off. Very nice to look at. Muy guapo. He pretends that Slime isn’t looking back if only because acknowledging it would make him blush, and he would like to keep his dignity, thank you very much. 

Eventually, Juanaflippa comes back downstairs with a new sign. 

‘Te quiero, papá,’ is written on it in shaky chicken-scratch letters, and it’s enough to almost make Mariana cry. Almost. 

He slips off of the couch and pulls Flippa into a hug. “Aww, Flippa, yo también te quiero.”

She wiggles in place happily. The wiggling becomes more enthusiastic when Slime goops his way into the hug as well, tucking his chin into the crook of Mariana’s neck. 

Slime says, “Te amo, Juanaflippa.” And, well, it’s not quite right, but he’s got the spirit. 

Mariana looks up at him with a slight pout. “What the fuck? Why don’t you say that to me?”

Slime rolls his eyes. “Fine, I guess I can say it, I guess.”

And he does.

-

And then there’s the sex. But that was fine before, to be honest. The only thing that has improved about it is their playlist. 

-

Slime’s new house has a bedroom with enough space for the both of them, and it’s almost nice enough to make Mariana consider partially moving in. Almost. 

Their beds are on opposite sides of the room because, frankly, they aren’t ready to properly share a bed yet. But the floors are bare so as to make it easier to push their beds together when wanted. 

Mariana wants. 

He pokes his head out into the living room. Slime is right where he left him, facedown on the rug after a long day of renovating. Juanaflippa is asleep upstairs, nobody else is awake on the server to interrupt or eavesdrop, it’s the perfect opportunity. 

“Hey, Slime,” Mariana says, and that’s enough to get his husband to roll onto his back with a groan. 

“What are you still doing here?” Slime yawns. He covers his mouth halfheartedly, stretching his legs out sleepily. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Mariana confirms. “You have a bed. Come on, get into it with me.”

And usually that’s enough to get Slime up and moving, but he doesn’t so much as look at him. No, his eyes slip shut, and he lets his arms fall across his body like a mummy’s. 

Oh. He’s tired. 

“Estoy cansado,” Slime sighs. “Lo siento, mi novia. No sexo tonight.”

Mariana can’t help but be disappointed. The sex is one of his favorite things about their relationship. It’s the one thing that he and Slime could agree on before the court case, the one single bit of solidarity in their relationship. 

But… it is late, and maybe Mariana is a bit tired as well. 

So he goes out of the bedroom to pick Slime up, only buckling a little under his weight. (For a sentient pile of goo, he’s fucking heavy.)

Slime’s eyes flutter open, and his face wrinkles in confusion as he’s moved. He looks up at Mariana blearily, unsure as to what he’s doing. Honestly, Mariana doesn’t know what he’s doing, either. This is weird. 

“Your back is going to hurt if you sleep on the floor,” is Mariana’s excuse even though he knows fully well that Slime doesn’t have a spine. 

“Oh, cool, alright,” Slime says. If he snuggles into Mariana’s chest a little, neither acknowledges it. “Gracias.”

“De nada.”

He drops Slime into his bed and hesitates. What now? Does he… tuck him in? He’s a grown man, he can tuck himself in. 

Mariana turns to… go, he guesses, to go back to his own house, but he’s stopped by a goopy hand wrapping itself around his wrist and refusing to let go no matter how hard he tries to pull away. 

“Slime, come on, let go,” Mariana groans. “Maybe I want to go to bed too, huh?”

“Then get in here,” Slime says, and that’s all the warning Mariana gets before being yanked down with a yelp onto the bed. 

Slime hums, and then he’s out like a light, snork mimimi, and all. Mariana stares at him for a good moment, and then he sighs and takes his glasses off. He takes Slime’s glasses off as well, and, after placing them both onto the bedside table right next to each other, he lets himself relax. There isn’t quite enough room for the both of them, but he thinks it can make it work. 

And he does. 

-

So, yes, therapy has been working. It’s been working very well. 

(Now, if only someone could get the therapist a therapist. Mariana is starting to get sick of hearing about Roier’s relationship problems at what are supposed to be his therapy sessions. At this rate, Mariana is going to kill Spreen himself if only to stop the complaining.)

[remedyturtles]

firefight arc 1 playlist

this is just me wanting to share the music i was listening to on repeat while writing hahahah

as always you will have to look the songs up yourself and make your own playlist as i don't have spotify lol ... interpret all songs as platonic of course LMAO so hard to find platonic only songs hahahah

firefight by jimmy eat world

OBVIOUSLY.

sooner or later by breaking benjamin

i have listened to this one the MOST probably. i love it because of the change from 'throw your life away' to 'throw my life away' to 'throw our life away'

the end of love by florence and the machine

when two are one by atreyu

take you down by illenium

time of dying by three days grace

hey, i'm just like you by tegan and sara

heavier things remain by anberlin

some other songs in my playlist that reminded me more generally of firefight:

agape by nicholas britell wish you were here by florence and the machine the other side of paradise by glass animals out of the woods by taylor swift glory by bastille and the songs that were in my playlist not really because they reminded me of firefight but because i was listening to them a bunch:

talk by coldplay scapegoat by ghost and pals loved you a little by the maine is it over now by taylor swift love from the other side by fall out boy life itself by glass animals time 2 by half alive THERE ARE LOTS OF SONGS THAT ARE FIREFIGHT SONGS BTW. this is just what i was ACTUALLY listening to while writing it hahaha

thanks for indulging me hahaha i am very inspired by music so i like to talk abt it