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eksvaized · 2 months

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Part Twelve [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt if you want to be added - let me know!

Hugging your knees tightly to your chest in an attempt to find comfort, your eyes track Simon’s every move. He begins to clean up the remnants of the meal that you had just forced yourself to eat. His hands collect the empty plates, glass and the gleaming silverware, arranging everything back onto the tray.

You regret making yourself to eat; it was a bad idea. It’s left you with a nauseating sensation, a feeling that gnaws at your insides, making you wish you could reverse time. It’s as if the food you swallowed is stuck in your throat, stubbornly refusing to descend further, causing an uncomfortable lump that’s hard to ignore.

However, despite the discomfort, you are aware that you really had no other choice in the matter. The idea of Simon spoon-feeding you was a far worse alternative that made your skin crawl. It was obvious he wasn’t joking when he threatened to do so. The seriousness in his eyes had told you that much. Therefore, you made a conscious effort to finish every last bite, not leaving a single morsel behind.

His lips part and close several times in quick succession, as if he’s wrestling with a sea of words that refuses to form into coherent sentences. You can tell from his tense demeanor that he wants to say something. But no sounds manage to escape from his slightly parted lips. The silence stretches between you, heavy and thick. Finally, with a look of resolve etched across his face, he breaks it. “Come downstairs with me.” His voice is softer than you expected, and there’s an underlying hint of urgency in his tone. Without waiting for a response, he stands up, his silhouette disappearing as he steps out of the bedroom.

A wave of doubt suddenly washes over you, leaving you questioning. Did your ears deceive you, or did you indeed hear him correctly? And even more importantly, do you want to follow him? The events of yesterday still linger in your mind, fresh and raw like an open wound, making you yearn for as much distance between the two of you as possible.

In an ideal world where you had more control over the situation, you’d bolt the door and keep him firmly on the other side, out of your room. But the reality is far from ideal. There’s no lock on the door—an unfortunate fact that leaves you feeling vulnerable. And even if there were a lock, would it really deter him? You doubt it. He has shown his determination before and you are certain he’d break through the door without a moment’s hesitation.

You remain seated on the very edge of the bed, struggling to coax your body into action. It’s as if an invisible anchor is holding you down. Your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, refusing to cooperate with your mind’s commands.

In the unforgiving darkness of the previous night, you found yourself drowning in a turbulent sea of blame and sharp accusations, the waves of which relentlessly crashed upon Simon. He was, in your view, entirely out of line; he had absolutely no right to lay his hands on you. He had no place, no authority, to slip his fingers between your thighs, to touch the softness of your skin, and to caress it with such familiarity.

But as the cold, harsh light of day broke, following the dawn’s first rays piercing the darkness, you had time to reflect. It was during this period of quiet contemplation that you arrived at a startling realization. Simon, you concluded with a sense of surprise, was not the one to point your finger at, not the one to shoulder the blame. His actions, as intrusive and invasive as they may have felt, were simply a mirror reflecting his very character, his essence. It was nothing less than what you could expect from someone like him.

Yet, what truly shook you to your core, what truly unsettled the very foundations of your understanding, was not Simon’s actions, but your own response—or rather, the startling lack of it. There was no resistance from your side, no confrontational push to maintain your personal space. Even though you knew, in the deepest recesses of your heart, that you could never force Simon to step back, to retract his invading hands and let you be, you didn’t even make an attempt. This realization, this perceived failure to assert your personal boundaries, finds its way to haunt you, nagging at your peace of mind.

It sits within the confines of your mind, a constant, unrelenting source of torment, a ghost of a memory refusing to fade. You don’t want to submit to Simon, to give him the impression that his actions are somehow becoming acceptable to you; it’s a battle you’re not willing to lose.

Balancing on the edge of the towering staircase, the rhythmic echo of Simon’s relentless pacing in the living room permeates the air, reaching your ears with an intensity that’s impossible to ignore. You are ensnared by a creeping, persistent thought that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness: could this all be some kind of elaborate test? He had made his stance known, drawing a firm and immovable line in the sand by stating that the downstairs area was strictly off-limits, a forbidden territory you were not to encroach upon. Yet yesterday you dared to breach that seemingly impenetrable rule.

Now, as you stand on the precipice of a potential transgression again, you can’t help but wonder: is this a deliberate test of your obedience, a cunning trap laid out to mislead you? What if you fail it? Could the punishment be as severe as banishment back to the dreary confines of the basement? As these thoughts spiral, you try with all your might to quell the rising tide of fear that threatens to engulf you. No—you give your head a firm, determined shake in a resolute attempt to dislodge these insidious thoughts that threaten to overtake you. After all, he had explicitly asked you to follow him. Surely, he wouldn’t react with anger or retribution if you were simply complying with his request.

As you approach the base of the staircase, your heart pounds in your chest. Each step you take on your ascent feels like a leap of faith. The worn wooden planks creak under your weight. The staircase seems to stretch endlessly downwards, leading you into the unsettling silence of the living room.

Once you step through the doorway, you look at the tall, imposing glass door. It is left slightly ajar. A gentle, warm breeze finds its way inside through the small opening. It’s a stark contrast to the chilling atmosphere that has settled within the room. The grey curtains billow and dance in the flow of the wind, their movements almost ghostly.

The room is filled with the scent of fresh grass and earth, a testament to the recent rain. The smell is so potent that it prompts you to take a deep, involuntary breath. As you inhale, the distinct aroma fills your nostrils, transporting you momentarily to a different place. Somewhere far away from here.

Suddenly, you feel your back stiffen, a sense of dread washing over you like a wave. Every instinct in your body screams at you to flee, to escape. But the memory of your last failed attempt to do so, the scars still fresh, shackles you in place. You are left frozen, like a deer in headlights, trapped between the desire to run and the fear of what will happen if you do.

In the corner of your eye, you see Simon. He turns his head, his gaze flitting over his shoulder before he leisurely strolls around the plush couch. He comes to an abrupt halt in front of you, his imposing figure casting a shadow over your hunched frame. Feeling the weight of his stare, you divert your gaze and fixate on the familiar pattern of the floor tiles.

“You could use some fresh air,” he begins, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. The idea doesn’t appeal to you, but you remain rooted to your spot, not expressing your distaste openly. “I thought we could enjoy the morning, swim in the pool and lounge in the backyard before we sit down for lunch.”

In all honesty, the thought of swimming doesn’t appeal to you in the slightest, and spending time with him is the last thing you want to do. As the days passed, you found yourself growing increasingly comfortable in the solitary confines of your bedroom, a place where you could enjoy the blissful silence and a peace that seemed to elude you elsewhere. However, you’re acutely aware of the repercussions that would follow if you were to voice your dissatisfaction. Thus, you choke back any form of protest that attempts to claw its way past your lips.

Simon, likely mistaking your silence for acceptance, reaches out to take your hand. His fingers weave through yours in an intimate gesture that you find anything but. His touch is far from welcome. It’s a sensation that makes your skin prickle with unease. But, you manage to suppress the instinctual grimace that threatens to twist your features. With a resigned sigh, you let him guide you outside, towards the glaring sunlight.

Underneath the blazing, scorching sun, which seems to be at its zenith, you stand at the edge of a pool. The water appears to shimmer and twinkle under the harsh sunlight, a sight that momentarily distracts you. Not too far from you, Simon, who appears to be quite unfazed by the oppressive heat, begins to methodically peel off his clothes. He discards his shirt and shorts without a second thought, leaving them forgotten on the hot concrete.

As his bare skin comes into view, your eyes involuntarily scan his body. Numerous scars, ranging from faint white lines to deep, jagged grooves, mar his otherwise perfect flesh. These unexpected imperfections serve as a stark contrast to his sculpted and toned physique.

He catches your gaze, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. A faint, knowing smile plays on his lips, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

There is a fleeting moment of dread, an anticipation that he might order you to undress and join him in the pool. However, he simply plunges into the pristine, crystal clear water. The resultant splash douses you, leaving your clothes damp, and you remain standing at the edge. You watch as he swims. His skin glistens like polished amber under the sun’s golden rays.

For a while, the world outside this moment ceases to exist. The stillness that stretches out is a bubble, encapsulating this moment, setting it apart from the rest of the day. But eventually, the scorching heat of the day and the fatigue in your legs convince you to take a seat on the cool edge of the pool. You carefully roll up your leggings, the material rough against your skin, before dipping your feet into the refreshing coolness of the water, a welcome escape from the relentless, arid heat.

“You should really consider getting into the water,” he suggests, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves as he swims in your direction. The water’s surface breaks as he pulls himself out, beads of water making his skin glisten under the sunlight. He stands up, his hands finding their way to either side of your thighs, entrapping you. His proximity is undeniable, and when you instinctively raise your chin, you find your face just mere inches away from his, his breath warm against your cheeks.

You shake your head, to which he responds with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his patience clearly tested. His fingers twitch subtly against before he tugs at the hem of your shirt. A playful smirk lights up his features as he says, “This looks significantly better on you than it does on me.”

You feel the urge to protest, to clarify that you found the shirt in the wardrobe in your room and that it doesn’t belong to him, but the confident smirk on his face tells you otherwise. So you just press your lips into a tight line, deciding not to engage in a fruitless argument.

“If I swim for a while, can I go back to my room afterwards?” You ask, feeling the need to negotiate. You’ve come to realise that the only way to escape from Simon and his imposing presence is to strike a deal with him. He ponders over your words for a moment, his gaze turning thoughtful. But then he nods, swimming away from you to give you some space to undress.

When you are left standing with nothing but your panties and bra, you cautiously tiptoe over the warm concrete, drawn to the edge of the seemingly inviting water. You pause to survey the pool. Its calm surface twinkles in the sunlight, making you unaware of the icy coldness lurking beneath. And so, instead of cautiously testing the water with a toe or two, you decide to embrace spontaneity and jump in.

Unfortunately, this impulsive decision proves to be a regrettable one. As you plunge into the water, the shock of the cold hits you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, like a formidable punch that steals your breath away. The water’s chilling embrace is far more potent than you had anticipated. Moreover, the pool’s depth, deceivingly hidden beneath the placid surface, catches you off guard, adding to the shock of the cold.

Once you are fully immersed beneath the surface, a profound and unsettling sense of disorientation immediately engulfs you. The surface, which was once just inches above your head, now suddenly seems to be miles away, a far-off mirage in the distance. At first, you try to swim upwards with a calm and measured rhythm, maintaining a steady cadence with your arms and legs. However, instead of getting closer, the surface appears to be receding, moving farther and farther away. That’s when the first seeds of panic start to sprout within you.

In your mounting desperation, you kick your legs and thrash your arms about, your movements becoming wild, frantic, and uncontrolled. You manage to keep your mouth tightly shut, consciously resisting the instinctive and primal urge to draw in a much-needed breath of air. But then, in a moment of sheer panic, your lips part involuntarily, and you take in a large gulp of salty water. You can feel it filling your lungs, adding to your weight and pulling you down even more, further into the abyss.

Simon’s fingers wrap around your shoulder. He tugs you up, his hand finding a secure place under the curve of your arm to hoist you up. As your head breaks the surface of the water, you are hit with a rush of fresh air that sends you into a fit of coughing. The coughing is violent and uncontrollable, each breath seeming to tear at your lungs like a wild animal clawing its way out. Meanwhile, he continues to hold you tightly in his arms, a look of deep concern engraved on his face, until your coughing subsides and you begin to breathe more normally.

Once the initial shock diminishes and your heart ceases its frantic pounding against your ribcage, you become acutely aware of your surroundings. You realize that you’re holding onto Simon with a vice-like grip. Your fingers dig into the firm muscles of his shoulder, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso. You can feel the rough texture of his skin against your fingertips. Your back stiffens in surprise. You want to push him away, to tell him to get his grimy hands off of you, but you can’t. He had just saved you from drowning, so you decide to let him enjoy this. But just for a moment. Then, you slowly wiggle out of his arms, reestablishing your personal space.

“Thank you,” you utter, once you’ve found your footing at the shallow end of the pool where your feet can actually touch the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice interwoven with genuine concern. He bridges the gap between the two of you, drawing closer once again. In response, you offer a single, convincing nod, your fingers weaving through your drenched hair, pushing it out of your face.

Both you and Simon spend a good amount of time in the pool. The water is soothing, the warmth of the sun on your skin is comforting, and for a moment, you appreciate the tranquility of simply floating around. As time passes, Simon decides to get out of the pool. He perches himself on the ledge, his eyes fixed on you. His gaze is intense, almost piercing, but you try your best to ignore it, acting like you don’t see him staring at your chest.

Being outside under the bright sun, with the water gently lapping at your skin, makes for a surprisingly peaceful experience, and it’s precisely what you need to clear your thoughts. For a moment, as you lay on your back with your eyes closed, you are able to forget about the fact that you’re under the constant surveillance, that you are living with your kidnapper and that you miss your life, your home, your privacy.

When you finally open your eyes, you notice that Simon has left his spot on the ledge. He’s no longer by the pool. You haul yourself out of the water and look around, trying to find him. You spot him through a window; he’s busy doing something in the kitchen. As your gaze moves away from him, it lands on the towering fence that marks the boundaries of your limited freedom. You contemplate the idea of running away. Simon is distracted, and you’re alone. Maybe this time, you could successfully make it over the fence. But as the thought takes root, you stop dead in your tracks.

You are in underwear only, soaking wet. Even if you managed to escape, you wouldn’t be able to survive a night in the woods in your current state. Besides, your previous attempt at an impromptu escape didn’t exactly work out, did it? You know that if Simon catches you even considering jumping the fence once more, you won’t be able to escape the consequences. And the worst part? You’ll be forced back into the gloomy, damp confines of the basement.

The sudden sound of nearing footsteps catches your attention, causing you to spin around. Your eyes meet Simon, who is approaching with a large, fluffy towel in his hands. He struggles to hide the broad smile that has spread across his face.

“Lunch is ready,” he says, his gaze momentarily drifting towards the fence before returning to you. “We can eat if you’re hungry.”

His words strike you as odd - Simon, who is always quick to bark commands and dictate every action, was now calmly suggesting, not ordering. You’re not sure if you’ll ever fully adjust to this side of him, but at this moment, you find yourself surprisingly receptive. With no push or force compelling you, you nod in agreement, eager to follow him back inside after drying off and getting dressed. Your stomach gives a low grumble, betraying your hunger.

As you take in the events of the morning, you can’t help but acknowledge that it’s been the most normal start of the day you’ve had in a long while. The thought crosses your mind, but you quickly push it aside, choosing not to over analyze things. In fact, you make a conscious effort not to think too deeply about anything, because doing so would force you to admit that spending time with Simon when he’s in a good mood isn’t as terrible as you’d initially thought. In fact, it’s not bad at all.

A/N: I know I probably have mentioned this somewhere, but this fic is a kind of a sequel to my other story (poisonous obsession), so if you want to read more of Simon's past and understand better the last chapter, I'd suggest reading it. :) anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter & thank you for all the comments I keep receiving; the feedback motivates me to continue writing. <3

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #writing #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #call of duty #ghost x you #cod #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost #ao3 fanfic #fem!reader #cod fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #cod x reader

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nazorneku · 1 year

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SUSANOO NO MIKOTO ( @infernocharged ) INQUIRED OF SUSABI: ❛ coming here to see you is the only place i could go. ❜

The scattering across the velveteen canvas of the vast expanse shimmered akin to the purest of diamonds, as the tall man amidst the sea of stars regarded numerous constellations and fates intertwined with customary contemplation. In deafening silence was drowned the world around him, the whole domain was still, no superfluous sound could penetrate the tranquility of the place or send ripples of disturbance across its reflective surface. In despite of recent events, the divine prophet found solace within such self-imposed confinement, that which he labored to achieve occurred, he would not tempt self to expect for more.

As the mind explored possibilities and considered courses of action, the distinct and familiar sensation of static electricity washed over him, notifying 'bout the imminent appearance of that particular individual. Clear blue optics shifted its regarded instantaneously at the point of arrival, anticipating, and when the man came into a full view his gaze narrowed, relaxing. There was no immediate response to the words of another, only measured breathing heaved his chest, as Susabi resumed his previous observation, not pursuing any particular concerns at that very moment, but out of the habit. Albeit those words spoken brazenly, he could not determine the exact intent of the other male, thus responded with a neutral formality in his voice. “The responsibilities of a prophecy god are mine to fulfill. Takamagahara is still abuzz with agitation, and there’s much to be done before going idle.” The matter of detecting the whereabouts of the serpentine lord lay heavily upon his shoulders, he could not in good conscience force the task upon Susanoo alone. No rest for the wicked.

Official business aside, the divine seer did not exclude the prospect of that to be a rather informal visit than a social call, hence shifting newly own glance at the blond man, he inquired with a softer tone, beckoning the continuation of the conversation. “Or did you require me for something else?” The awkward stiffness in the pose would remain, as a thousand years passed since they shared a company of each other within the realm, nonetheless with a long exhalation he braced self for what he assumed would be an interrogation 'bout those long years spent in preparation.

&. for the damaged, sentence starters || accepting

#infernocharged #Ⓢ : INTERACTIONS ( susabi )#[ he isnt thrilled to be here but there's job to be done ]#[ i apologize it took me awhile— also new editor in case you would want to respond ]#[ also getting sick during tumblr jailtime didnt help the case ]

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mimdyluv · 1 month

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"you can't talk to mimi like that" drabble;

Sitting silent and defeated in the sand meant self-reflection is inescapable. Each member of the group goes through their separate journey of overthinking, picking apart every detail about what went wrong. Pope's nostrils flare as he breathes hard through his nose, a nervous habit that makes JJ glance at him every so often to hint his annoyance. While John B taps his foot, Kiara rolls her eyes. Nobody wants to speak first. Even Indy is uncharacteristically in bad spirits, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he stares hard into space, a hand flicking a quarter between his knuckles.

A stomach growling is loud enough to draw attention, and Mimi holds a hand to her angry gut as if to sooth it. Sheepish, she averts eye contact with anyone that curiously scans her. None of them had had anything to eat, and barely any sleep.

"Guys, this is ridiculous. Maybe we should split up and regroup." Kiara is the first to say, breaking the illusion of quiet and individual contemplation. "We're exhausted, this isn't gonna work."

"We just need a new game plan s'all." JJ retorts, rerouting the growing consensus. Running on fumes meant whoever's the loudest usually gets the vote. "Home stretch, we can't quit now."

Offended, Kiara gestures her flat hands pointed towards her chest. "I didn't say anything about quitting." she objects, frowning at JJ who'd insinuate such a thing.

"Kie, we need to get moving and we need to get moving now. Sucks but we really can't afford a break." John B adds on, standing from his seat on the porch of the Chateau. His hand reaches to clap against the old wood beam, leaning on it. She blinks hard at him, and makes a show of looking to her left and to her right as if searching for who asked him.

"So I suggest we take a second to breathe and now I'm the bad guy?"

"Not the bad guy, just a bad idea." Pope grumbles, picking his legs up to hug to his chest.

"We're not getting anywhere sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves, you know." Indy breaks his reticence, gaze flickering up to the conversation as it escalates to new heights.

"'Sorry for ourselves?' That's rich coming from the guy that cost us the time. If we'd gotten there earlier, then maybe the gold'd still be there!" JJ just wants something to yell about, raising his voice as he straightens to tower over Indy in his seat.

"Oh, c'mon, you saw the dig site. They got there hours, maybe days before us. My stop didn't affect shit." Indy responds flippantly, not affording JJ the dignity of eye contact.

Mimi hates being in the middle of this, gaze bouncing off of each person to the other with each argument that gradually overlaps one another. She can understand both sides here, but it's hard to gather the courage to interrupt a brewing feud.

"God!" John B interjects through the chatter, kicking that wooden beam with his foot hard enough for a coat of dust to puff off. "Shut up for a second! We've gotta put our heads together. We know who took it, it's just a question of how to get it back." No sooner had he finished his statement than an eruption of backlash caused virtually indecipherable din. It shifts through blame, course-of-action, and anger. It all comes back to that initial exhaustion, and Mimi can't deduce any of it. No one can hear her points through the sea of arguments.

Pope picks himself up from his chair, getting on JJ's and John B's level as fixes his posture, "Everybody be quiet!" The strain of his voice causes the vein in his neck to swell, and the throng's volume descends at the sight of someone so level-headed reduced to a mediator. "Ideas, go." he demands.

Mimi finds her strength in the silence, forcing herself to speak before someone else does and she loses her way again. "We should go home." All eyes are on her again, and he throat closes up. Originally she intended more of an explanation that that, but it didn't get across.

Pope scrutinizes her with an incredulous expression, animating it with his entire body as if to judge her for backtracking to the very beginning of the conversation. "Mimi, no offense, but you should sit this one out and let us talk this out." It's a subtle jab on plenty of things, one being her place within this group, as if her opinion doesn't matter. It's everything wrong that's talking, certainly not his view of her. It's his hunger, his frustration, his sleeplessness. And everyone else didn't quite catch how deeply that would pierce her.

Dejected, she deflates, eyes glued to her hands in her lap. Indy, who tries to remain as objective as possible, can't help but step in. "You can't talk to Mimi like that." The quarter in his hand has stopped moving, falling into his fist as his focus narrows on the way Pope stares at him like a deer in headlights. A little life is breathed back into her at the mention of her name, cautiously peering at the sight in front of her as Pope stammers.

Defiantly, her expression hardens, frowning at Pope in a way that helps him understand how he'd alienated her. At first, she hadn't felt like she had the footing to deny it, but having someone put context to it for her opened her up.

Indy shrugs. "You gonna apologize or what?" It's met with more silence, processing what just occurred. "She's as much a part of this as any of you, she says she wants to go home and regroup, and I agree." His tone is firmer than usual, and his sheer patience wears ever thinner. So he stands and scoffs. "Forget it. I'm heading out."

yes

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zenfilmmaking · 4 months

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The Maverick of Mindfulness: Scott Shaw and the Art of Zen Filmmaking

Few figures in contemporary cinema embrace the unorthodox as vehemently as Scott Shaw. An author, martial artist, and filmmaker, Shaw has carved his own path, rejecting convention in favor of a practice he terms "Zen Filmmaking." This essay delves into Shaw's life, philosophy, and cinematic techniques, exploring his unique contribution to the world of film and its impact on both audiences and the industry itself.

From Martial Arts to Mindfulness:

Shaw's journey began far from the silver screen. An accomplished martial artist, he found himself drawn to Eastern philosophy, particularly the tenets of Zen Buddhism. The emphasis on mindfulness, improvisation, and living in the present resonated deeply, influencing both his martial arts practice and his burgeoning interest in filmmaking.

Breaking the Script: The Core of Zen Filmmaking:

Shaw's films defy traditional filmmaking norms. Gone are the rigid scripts and pre-defined narratives. Instead, Zen Filmmaking embraces spontaneity, improvisation, and an intuitive approach. Actors receive minimal direction, encouraged to respond organically to their environment and each other. The camera lingers on seemingly mundane details, inviting viewers to slow down and appreciate the present moment.

Shaw's Signature Style:

Several techniques mark Shaw's films as distinctively Zen:

Minimalism: Simple sets, natural lighting, and subdued color palettes create a stripped-down aesthetic, eliminating distractions and emphasizing the essence of the scene.

Improvisation: Actors improvise dialogue and actions, mirroring the Zen emphasis on letting go of preconceived notions and embracing the unknown.

Long Takes: Uninterrupted shots immerse viewers in the present moment, fostering a sense of timelessness and contemplation.

Silence: Dialogue is sparse, emphasizing the power of nonverbal communication and leaving space for introspection.

Impact and Influence:

Zen filmmaking isn't for everyone. Its slow pace and lack of clear narratives can be challenging for audiences accustomed to Hollywood fare. Yet, for those willing to surrender to its rhythm, the rewards are profound. Shaw's films offer a meditative experience, inviting viewers to be present in the moment, appreciate the beauty of the ordinary, and contemplate the deeper questions of life.

Beyond Entertainment: A Path to Awakening:

Shaw's work transcends mere entertainment. He views filmmaking as a form of personal and spiritual exploration, an opportunity to cultivate mindfulness and connect with one's authentic self. This is reflected in his workshops and teachings, where he guides aspiring filmmakers to access their inner creativity and embrace the Zen principles that define his unique style.

Criticisms and Controversies:

Zen Filmmaking isn't without its detractors. Some find its approach self-indulgent and criticize its lack of clear narratives. Shaw's unconventional methods and independent spirit have also clashed with the commercial constraints of the film industry.

A Legacy of Innovation:

Despite the challenges, Scott Shaw remains a force of innovation in the cinematic landscape. His dedication to Zen principles and his unwavering commitment to artistic freedom have challenged preconceived notions of filmmaking and offered a unique perspective on storytelling. He continues to inspire aspiring filmmakers and push the boundaries of cinematic expression, leaving a lasting legacy as a true maverick of the art form.

Conclusion:

Scott Shaw's Zen Filmmaking stands as a testament to the power of embracing the unorthodox. By blending Eastern philosophy with cinematic techniques, he has created a space for contemplation, introspection, and a unique experience of the present moment. While not for everyone, his films offer a valuable alternative to mainstream cinema, reminding us of the potential art holds to elevate and awaken. As Shaw himself declares, "Zen Filmmaking is not about making movies, it's about making life." With this philosophy, he continues to guide both filmmakers and audiences on a journey beyond the screen, towards a deeper understanding of self and a profound appreciation for the fleeting beauty of the present moment.

#scott shaw #zen filmmaking

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junrbs · 4 months

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(unfinished) vent writing tw: implied harassment, self harm, c-tting meant to be a sort of comfort thingy as nikolai is my comfort character, but i lost motivation and i don't think i'll ever finish this so i'm just putting it here

You found yourself trapped in a business meeting with your boss, your heart racing. The words of your colleagues barely registered; short "yeah," "uhm," and "uh-huh"s was all you could muster. The relentless pounding in your chest begged for the meeting to end. Concentration was futile— how could it not be? The leader of this meeting had been harassing you discreetly for days, and to make matters worse, he was your boss, the company's CEO, manipulating his power to silence you about the reprehensible actions he had taken. He had the audacity to pretend like nothing had occurred.

You're sick of it all. You just wanted to escape this meeting and leave.

As the meeting concluded, you left the office swiftly, relieved that, at least today, your boss didn't summon you to his office for some sick plan he had concocted.

Shoes were hastily discarded at the entrance, and you rushed to reach your bedroom doorknob and slumped to the ground. Still clad in your suit and tie, you rubbed your temples, feeling the unsettling chill in your trembling hands. You rubbed your temple, hands shaking and feeling unnaturally cold. You were back in the comfort of your own home, but why was your heart still continued its erratic beats?

"Why, why," you muttered, a hoarse voice matching the tremors in your hands. "God.. not again. Fuck, how do I-" Eyes closed, you nibbled on your lower lip, inhaling and exhaling in an attempt to regain composure. But it was all fruitless. The pounding heart, shaky hands, and inconsistent breathing intensified. You despised this feeling, this all-too-familiar sensation.

"This is not the first time it happened. Should be fine, right?" you told yourself that, "Right. I should be okay. Should be fine... just calm down." Again and again, like a mantra. Yet, the more you uttered these assurances, the more the dirty feeling seeped into your body. Being in your own skin felt repulsive, the intensity making you wish you could somehow shed it to escape the filth.

Alas, that's nothing but an impossible desire.

Thinking a shower might cleanse both the body and mind, you scrubbed vigorously until your skin turned red. Yet, facing your own naked reflection, the reminder of past violations intensified your self-loathing. The sight was so revolting that you almost wanted to shatter the mirror and shut your eyes forever.

With damp hair and a towel draped over your neck, you entered your bedroom, frantically searching your desk with trembling hands and knees. In a cabinet, you sought something sharp—anything would do. After a few seconds, you found it. A blade! The weight of the sharp object in your grasp should bring discomfort, a pang of recognition that what you're contemplating is wrong. However, in this desperate moment, the usual moral considerations fade into the background. Relief becomes your singular focus. Holding it tightly as if your life depended on it, you contemplated its use.

Your chest rose and fell as you brought the blade closer to your already uneven arm, littered with self-inflicted scars. "Just a little," you told yourself, the ritual all too familiar.

You wonder when this all would end. Why you? Why does this keeps happening to you, out of the many people in this world?

You wish you could just abandon this disgusting slab of flesh soon.

"BOO!" A voice echoed behind you, causing you to jump, the blade slipping from your grasp.

Nikolai, as always, appeared unannounced.

"Kolya!" you greeted, setting the blade aside awkwardly. "You're here." A forced chuckle escaped your lips as your eyes met Nikolai's mismatched ones. Once again, the silver-haired jester interrupted you, showing up right when you were on the brink. Attempting to maintain a smile to mask the panic, you faltered. Nikolai's grin widened, silently mocking your feeble attempt at composure.

#vent writing #jun writes #tw sa implied #embarassing that this is how i cope #fuck it we ball #nikolai x you #comfort writing

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dayeinthetrenches · 2 years

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Love? Maybe.

Do not repost content without proper credit to me!

[Masterlist]

A/N: I'm so fucking tired of being too afraid to write. I have a shit ton of drafts in my Google docs so I've decided to start posting them. No editing. Just vibes. Enjoy ❤

● ● ●

The gym was unusually empty at this time of day. The bright and airy dungeon was void of any natural sunlight and the few idle people residing in it had already dispersed into different sections of the gym, all sweating away their sins, exploiting their limits to an ill-kept piece of machinery that would creak with every use of force. I kept adjusting the hem of the leggings in an effort to avoid letting my butt eat the fabric. I should’ve known better than to wear skin tight leggings for the gym. I couldn’t go through a full set before feeling the constant nuisance of the pinch in my underwear.

I decided now was a good time, if any, to leave if I wanted to make it in time for lecture. I packed up my belongings and headed for the showers.

NOON rolled around and I was able to secure a seat at the front row. Mr. Morrison, looking deflated and sucked dry of life, went on about molecular compositions of the human eye. His voice is dulled out by the sound of constant clicking right beside my ears. Annoyed, I shift my laptop to the left to get a closer look at the perpetrator of these actions. It was Dennis. Dennis notices this and slightly waves his pen in the reflection, cocking a smirk. I sigh and focus back on the lecture.

As I’m jotting down the summarized information onto my notes, a notification bubble pops on my screen. It was Dennis again.

“My customer needs babysitting tonight and I can’t make it. Can you cover for me?” He typed.

“Why do you need me to do it? Don’t you have anyone else?” I wait a second for his reply before the familiar bubble notification reappears.

“No one’s got back to me. It’s an emergency.” Next to his text, a small emoji of a man is shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ll just let you know now that dogs don’t particularly like me. So if I do this, I do this under the impression that you’ll come with me to my parent’s party tomorrow?” In the reflection of the screen, Dennis was scowling at his own screen. I watch as he contemplates, chipping away at his nails like he’s a hamster engrossed in a race to chew through its nut.

Finally, he replies. “Fine, but you’re doing all the talking.” Satisfied, I focus back to the lecture, typing away my college fund.

When class was over, Dennis and I headed towards an abandoned construction site, metal poles still sticking from the concrete walls.

“I don’t even know why you need me there.” He pauses, swallowing the bit of sandwich in his mouth before continuing. “They both know I’m gay. It changes nothing.”

We had sat on the ledge of the rooftop of the abandoned structure, the students below us were ants in comparison to our feet.

“Okay, yes, but none of the guests know!” I muffle out in between chews, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I just need them to get off my back for a while. The past couple of exams have been kicking my ass, lately. So I really need you to do this. I am not looking to put a ring on this finger just yet.”

Dennis sighs, disappointed. He takes a sip from his drink, slurping the last droplets of his coke. “Fine.”

We had laid down once we were done eating, letting our feet dangle on the edge of the rooftop. My mind wandered while we laid in silence, both admiring the reluciente hues of the sky. The sun was slowly setting until a gradient of blues, oranges, and yellows cast a warm blanket against my skin.

I wondered if Dennis was okay with the fact that I might not be here for him if things turn for the worst. Would he be capable of…

I raised my head and looked down at him, he was dozing off from inhaling a foot-long instead of a six-inch. “What was the big emergency that you had?” I asked.

“Oh!” His eyes sprung open. He swore under his breath. “My dad wanted to bring his bastard kid to the house. Said somethin’ bout’ ‘You need to meet your baby sister sooner or later.’”

“Are you kidding?” I fully sit up just like Dennis.

“Ooh, and get this, “ He shifts a little closer. “He wants me to be his best man.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“And what did you say?”

Dennis couldn't answer because a loud roaring caught our attention. We look down and see a crowd of people has gathered around a pearl white car. One of those that looked way too expensive to be in the vicinity of us poor folk. The car parked in an empty parking slot where the crowd of people had promptly scattered to. After a moment, the figure of a man emerges in the middle of the crowd. People holding papers and pens screaming for him. I couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Who's that?" Dennis voices our thoughts.

"I don't know. Sure as hell looks important." The man signs a few papers before straying from the herd to make his way to the main office.

"Looks like a celebrity to me." Dennis says before laying back down.

A celebrity? But what would a celebrity have anything to do with a small community College?

● ● ●

I honestly don't know where this story is going but it was a draft for one of my book projects that I will no longer be using so I decided to use it here. Let me know if you would like it to be a continued story by clicking that little heart ❤

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sleepwalkingennui · 3 years

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Call Me By Your Name (2017) dir. Luca Guadagnino

Set somewhere in 1983 Northern Italy, Call Me By Your Name, a striking film based on a novel of the same name, uses a melange of diverse elements to induce salient emotional intensity. It relates the story of 17-year-old Elio Perlman, who falls for Oliver, a graduate student under Elio's father's tutelage.

Luca Guadagnino's mastery of aesthetic elements emphasises the unspoken; in the weight of the film's delicately crafted vision, the dialogue takes on an auxiliary capacity. This story of first love and first heartbreak is rife with beautiful imagery and meaningful messages - from the eclectic yet elegant palette to the ancient sculptures (reflected in Elio's delicate frame) to the music with Sufjan Stevens' trademark celestial imagery and gossamer voice.

Call Me By Your Name delivers an intensely realistic recreation of life. This film cannot, under any circumstances, parade as action-filled. The actors and the camera move languorously, with even jump-cuts taking on a lazy, lifelike quality. In the modern world, Call Me By Your Name is singular in its inclination to stop and smell the roses with its sedate gaze and attention to the texture of life. Emblematic details, such as a Robert Mapplethorpe poster, are scattered through the Perlmans' house; this meticulous attention to detail allows Call Me By Your Name to be revisited over and over again.

Elio and Oliver's story is guided as firmly by unspoken love as by graphic displays of emotion. Critical scenes are filled not with overt dialogue but instead with long silences and longing stares. The power of silence is reinforced explicitly when Elio's mother reads him a German fairytale about a princess and her illegitimate lover who are plagued with the question: "better to speak or to die?". Even after Elio and Oliver consummate their relationship, they never actually say the three tired words: I love you.

Instead, Gudagnino uses visual cues to relate emotion. The first part of the film is filtered with a muted pastel palette, in keeping tone with the idea of summer - a time of illumination, coming-of-age, and love. The final scene, however, is shot in the heart of winter, and the change in the colour palette reflects this theme of sorrow and change with its deep and desaturated tones. For Elio, this moment of contemplative sorrow arrives after his final telephone call with Oliver. He stares into the fireplace and cries as his remaining hope for a future with Oliver falls apart. In this static, three-minute shot of Elio, we see his emotions flit across his face in real-time; this stylistic choice is rife with sentiment and intensity, and for many viewers, it is the scene that cemented their adoration for this slice-of-life film and the portrayal of young love and growing pains.

All things considered, Call Me By Your Name is a rich piece of work in which every meticulous device works to intensify the scope of the film. Guadagnino elevates storytelling into art, creating a textured universe within the framework of his film. He goes further than embodying the role of the filmmaker; his canvas is a moving picture, and every element is forceful - from the elegantly crafted soundtrack to the shifting colour palette to the wilful camera movement. Call Me By Your Name is perennial in its ability to exceed the momentary pleasure of the plot. It is a film that is not merely consumed visually; it continues to haunt with its implicit eloquence.

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yorumiraki · 3 years

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< undefined >

gojo satoru x reader

imagine: you ask satoru a strange question about love.

[unedited]

“satoru.”

it was no surprise the called sorcerer was sitting across from you, munching away at whatever treat he had slyly got for free from the counter. tapping the crumbs of his pastry onto the plate he gestures over to you to continue while he shoves the whole thing in his mouth, munching loudly.

“what’s love to you?”

he chokes on his pastry for a moment, coughing while grabbing his tea to let it down easy before looking at you, lips drawn in a straight line. placing his cup down, he tilted his head in a mix of curiosity, confusion and eagerness.

“hm? well....”

he gave you a rather perplexed look, his blindfold creating new creases, making it known that he was currently raising his eyebrows. the sunlight shined through the window on your right and he watched as you gazed out into the street, looking at no one and nothing in particular as you scanned about. today was a busy day for the both of you, but someway, somehow, you had both managed to make the time, squeeze it in to your already exhaustingly time consuming schedules. if you didn’t have time, you would make it, force it in if you had to. it was no secret that you two were close. close friends, often mistaken to be close lovers. he had never minded being called such a thing being said to the both of you in public, but it had always been followed with you completely shutting it down and hastily correcting said stranger while dragging him off to wherever else.

your eyes looked wide through the pane of glass, head turning whenever a new person passed left or right on the sidewalk in front of you, switching off to the cars whenever it was vacant. no doubt there was something on your mind. good or bad, he could not tell based off of your mannerisms or actions, with the way you were speaking devoid of any kind of tone. evidently, he hadn’t a clue what you were about to say.

still watching you, he sees that you eyes begin to scrunch almost if you were hard in thought, like you were in slight pain. he was contemplating on whether or not he should ask if you were alright, if you needed anything. but it seemed as though you were given the time you needed to think.

“lots of people fall in love.”

the silence between you two is defeaning, you turning your head to finally face him. your eyes were shining from the rays reflecting through the window, and just when he thought he couldn’t see any clearer, he believes he sees a lingering look in your eyes, almost as if it couldn’t be revealed without said source. he hadn’t said a word, letting you continue slowly to get your thought out as he picked and pulled apart the look in your eyes.

the intensity, the nervousness and he doesn’t want to get it confused for anything else but… longing?

“what do you think love is gojo? what is it to you?”

he stopped. a big question mark pops into his head automatically as his face contorts to an unreadable look. love? why would HE be thinking about love, or even have an opinion on such a topic. it doesn’t matter to him. he doesn’t need to be thinking about anyone or anything that could get in his way, hold him back and keep him from doing what he wants and needs to do. that’s just the kind of man he is. a man of freedom, one who cannot sit still, stay in one spot. such a trivial topic for him, he still doesn’t even understand why you would ask him such a ridiculous question. hearing such a thing from you though, why had he become so nervous, unresponsive and maybe slightly apprehensive.

“ i… don’t really think about it?”

he tried. he really did, to get out of talking about it. the uncomfort level for him was a tad bit annoying and he would rather not have it heaving on him right this second and drag behind as if it was chained to him.

“i think you’re lying to me… but it’s ok.”

he visibly pouts childishly before going to speak, only to have you cut him off.

“when you look at people and see they’re happy, naturally, you would think they were in love. and even if it wasn’t with each other, they are in love with that moment, all the moments they have with each other and that’s just enough for them.”

he tilts his head again, watching you once more. tapping foot, fidgety fingers, glancing eyes, just what was it that was bothering you? his eyes, although unseen, suddenly had a threatening look towards you protectively.

“is it someone? a guy? girl? did they dump you? cheat on you? where do they live- ”

“no no no let me finish you- ugh never mind, just shush and let me finish.”

putting his hands up in a surrendering motion he sits back slumped in his chair with his hands in his pockets, stretching out his long legs and finally giving you his full attention.

“people… define love in many different ways. manyyy different ways. for some, it’s easy to fall, it takes little action, little time. for others, it could take a while, months, years, sometimes a lifetime but then there’s nothing left after that. it could be something as small as holding the door open for someone or something out there like saving someone from falling off a cliff. how people would define love, as something that only breaks hearts in the end, and causes torment. that it’s only either simple or complex. but, is there any one kind of love? only one way to process it, how to go about it, how to interpret it? we all say we think of it all the same but do we really?”

he stares at you in awe, thinking wildly of what could had prompted you to make such a statement, to even be talking this way.

“people, items, places, anything could be claimed to be love, given love. some people even believe love is fake, non-existent, that it only creates holes within our very beings. i don’t know what it is to me. but i do know when i look around, i see the love in everything. every action, every word, every person, i mean everything, shit i can even see the love radiating off the telephone pole i mean look at it.”

he snorts before he swiveled around to look at it before turning back towards you. and he couldn’t help but cut your explanation off and ask, “why are you telling me this?”

“well…i was just... i just couldn’t help but wonder what your love is.”

he doesn’t answer, staring at you before looking down at his plate, his mind diving into deep thought. honestly he had no answer, but it didn’t seem like you had minded. you were simply sitting there, smiling at him with a big smile on your face before opening your eyes to stare out the window again. what is his love? what a weird thing to ask.

beginning to ponder the question, he thinks of all the times he has had with all his students, the laughing, the crying, the pain, his coworkers, you. he frowns at the mass of unrelated topics in his head thereafter. he ultimately comes to the conclusion that he just either doesn’t care, or just doesn’t care enough to give it a meaning. he would rather just leave it be. but if he had to pick, if he were normal and had a gun to his head, was forced to make a choice, maybe, just maybe...

looking up from his plate, he smiled with a chuckle as he saw that you were eating a creme filled donut, wiping the spilled creme that had fallen onto your lap, a quiet “god dammit..” escaping your lips.

...he would then say it was you.

i don’t even know about this one, it’s been sitting in the drafts for a while. it seems... corny to me.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk imagine #gojo x gn!reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen imagine #anime

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petiteyoon · 3 years

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Goose bumps — myg [M]

ATTENTION: if you’re a minor and/or uncomfortable with mature themes please don’t read... or do it, but I warned you.

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, not-so-innocent baths in a lake, no pull-out game lmao, kind of sex with a stranger?, cum play, light spanking, slight daddy kink (yg calls himself daddy like o n c e), cum eating, Yoongi is a shy boi at first but gives up easily <3 if you hate being called princess then i’m sorry

Word count: 3k more or less

Of course I am technically ✨L A T E✨ but I guess it was worth it (even if in my country it’s still the 9th) so,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR YOONGO BONGO💜🍊

I’m still getting used to writing those things so let’s pray that there’s nothing wrong here, hope you like it!

As you woke up you silently thanked whoever was up there for having such a sunny morning, compared to the storm you were surprised with the day prior, as you reached the camping site.

The situation at hand was unexpected and quite messy since you were sleeping in your camper with seven boys, five of them scattered on the couch or in the driving seats. But it was more fun that way, you guessed.

You were traveling with your best friends, Namjoon and Jungkook, when you saw five people standing on the side of the road, with their car nearby surrounded by a thin layer of smoke.

Assuming they needed help and since they were directed to the same destination as the three of you, you offered them a hand and brought them to the camping site with you in your camper.

You slowly got off the bed, tiptoeing towards the exit and careful not to step on any hand or foot. You opened the door and hopped down, feeling the fresh grass beneath your feet. Everything around was still quiet, the only sound that could be heard was the sweet chirping of the birds that populated the trees. The area was well covered by tall, green plants and a few sun rays slipped through their leaves, creating puddles of golden light on the ground.

Before cooking yourself something to eat, you went exploring a bit, finding a couple of cute bunnies near the place and beautiful flowers, until, a bit down the path, you found a little entrance that hid a beautiful tiny lake and without a second thought you went in.

It wasn't really deep so you decided to sit on the moss that engulfed the sides and corners of the natural pool.

After contemplating the nature around you, you slipped in the cold water and slightly moved your limbs in order to get used to the low temperature.

The place was well hidden by the plants and trees, only giving you another open spot on the other side, just to admire the mountains nearby and you allowed yourself to relax. Said mountains were clearly visible and they created a stunning landscape, giving you the possibility to clear your eyes from the dull cities full of skyscrapers.

It seemed like the place was settled on another planet. Spots like this were truly a rare sight and deserved to be protected from the rest of the Earth, you thought.

"What are you doing here?"

As you were absorbed in your own world, a deep and groggy voice spoke up, making you snap your head towards the intruder.

Yoongi stood there, standing on the border of the pool and keeping an eye close to you, a veil of curiosity was wrapped around his sleepy voice.

You took a big breath and slumped your shoulders, the brief tension already subsided. "I was just looking around… this place is beautiful" you contemplated, shifting your eyes towards the landscape again. You felt the water ripple and you just assumed that Yoongi slipped in with you.

"It really is" he breathed, the sound reached your ears quicker than you thought. Turning around, the boy was really closer than you imagined, but he didn't seem to notice because his eyes were settled on the rural view as well.

You slightly shifted, tightening your shoulders as goose bumps emerged on your skin. Yoongi sensed your stiffness right away and moved towards you. With his eyebrows bent in a frown, he asked you if you were cold but you quickly shook your head.

The cold wasn’t the cause of your goose bumps, Yoongi was. You were totally feeling at ease, but having him this close was kinda unusual.

Ever since you two met the other day, you observed how his eyes always lingered for a moment on your figure, how he was always out of words and much more shy when you talked to him. Maybe he was really introverted, you assumed.

But while you were thinking about his behaviour, you have to admit that deep down you briefly daydreamed about him being attracted to you, which would be the reason for his behaviour; and if that was the case you were surely flattered about the idea of a cute guy like him feeling that way towards you.

Another couple of minutes passed by in silence, enjoying the company of the other. Yoongi slowly moved towards you, still keeping his hands on the border and his head bent down slightly.

He pressed his lips together, his whole body screamed shyness and you could perfectly feel how nervous he was. You knew he was trying to tell you something but his throat was completely shut, making it difficult to swallow.

That was when you decided to take the matter in your own hands, "Is everything okay Yoongs?" you asked.

The nickname almost made him blush but he just nodded, without opening his mouth. Your question wasn't much of help so you just tried to put him at ease without any words, just resting your head on his shoulder, to see how he would react.

Yoongi felt like the world had come to a stop and as he realized how close you were. He just stood there, eyes automatically fixated on you.

His hands were tingling. He just wanted to hold you tight against him, but he had to control himself. He had been infatuated with you since the second he laid his eyes on you, but he still didn't know you yet.

He just slipped his right arm around your shoulders, finding a comfortable position to look at the landscape. You smiled a little, content with how he was cuddling you. Even if you met him just the other day, he seemed such a sweet guy and you felt as if you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him.

You closed the space between your bodies by inching closer and closer to him, until your face was buried inside his neck. You took a deep breath and your nostrils were flooded by the masculine scent of his cologne and this made you want to pull him towards you and engulf him in a tight hug, just to be blessed by his presence.

These thoughts of him kept racing in your mind and, as if you were possessed by an unknown force, you placed a hand behind his neck and brought him down to your level, suddenly pressing your lips against his.

Maybe you were being reckless but, hell, you wanted to taste those lips so badly.

For a moment he didn't move at all, totally taken off guard; but when the action processed in his head and felt your sweet lips against his, he finally gave in. His fingertips caressed your sides while he moved his lips on yours, enjoying their softness.

Your other hand found its way between his locks and lightly gripped them, earning a small grunt from him.

His chest was flush against yours as he subconsciously pushed your body against the border of the pond. You were trapped and the only thing you could do was wrapping your legs around his waist. After doing so, his body moved even closer to yours, if that was possible. You two were caught by a sudden passion that didn't let you separate from one another.

His tongue stroked your lower lip, asking for entrance. You swiftly opened your mouth and your tongues danced, wrapped around each other. That warm feeling made you feel tingles all over your body as you caressed the back of his head. After what felt like hours, Yoongi finally broke the kiss and looked at you deeply, contemplating what you had just done.

He regained himself and pushed himself off of you, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that" he blubbered, his head bent down again.

You felt your chest tighten for a moment, confused about why he was apologizing. Maybe he didn't want to do that? You were the one that pulled him in at first, maybe he just kissed you so you wouldn't feel rejected.

But as soon as he spoke up again, your doubts were cleared, "don't get me wrong,” he shook his head when he saw your worried expression “you're really beautiful and you seem a kind and sweet person. But I shouldn't have rushed like that" he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, observing his face, and got closer to him once again, "Don't apologize, I enjoyed it" you whispered and licked your lips, "We can do whatever you want to do".

He sighed once he heard your words, still unsure about the situation. He had you on a silver plate and he was mere inches away from a good time or from something that could be deeper, as he let his mind daydream; but still, he didn't know you. Maybe you just wanted to use him for one time, and maybe he would even let you do that. The tension was strong and he couldn't make a decision: he could leave aside his morals for one day, or risk it all and try for something real with you.

Was it really worthy to give in so easily to a stranger? You occupied his mind since he saw you the other day and maybe he could really try and take action on his new feelings.

After thinking about it deeply, he lifted his head and watched you with a slight pained expression "I've known you for just one day, even less, but you already make me go crazy", so he conjoined again your bodies and kissed you.

The tension that built up inside you while waiting for an answer left your soul as soon as you felt his warm presence again against you. You didn't have time to reflect on his confession as you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck, lightly biting his lower lip and tasting him.

He sighed, his breath hot on your lips and you felt his fingertips brush your sides, slipping under your shirt. You unconsciously arched your back, giving him more access to explore your body. His cold hands gripped the flesh where your ribs were, picking you up and placing you on the border, with his hips in between your legs. A small whimper left your mouth as you felt his crotch push against your centre, pressing your nails into his shoulder blades.

His lips slightly turned into a grin, the sweet sound reaching his ears. Your moans were heaven to him and as he secured an arm around your waist, his other hand started to caress your thigh, slowly inching closer and closer towards the hem of your shorts.

Your heart was beating fast against your chest and it was difficult to breathe. His finger slid in your thin shorts that were soaked and clinging to your skin. He gently stroked your sensitive bud, earning another delicious moan from you. A new wave of pleasure washed over you as you felt hot pressure against your clit. He soon reached your entrance, he circled his fingers around it, collecting your arousal and teasing you. You broke the kiss and whimpered again while trying to catch your breath.

Your hips involuntarily pushed towards his hand, wanting just to feel his fingers in you, but before you could express your needs he removed his hand from your shorts and gripped at the hem of the clothing. Immediately taking the hint, you placed your hands on the hard surface and raised your hips, allowing him to take off your pants and underwear together.

His hand returned to its place as he rubbed the wet skin around your entrance, thanks to how wet you were, his finger dipped with ease in your heat, disappearing between your folds. The delicious burn made you cry out his name, throwing your head back, your nails scratching the ground at your sides.

Your hips slightly rolled with the movement of his hand, his face was buried in your neck, leaving wet kisses and bites that will surely leave a mark on your skin. Your hand reached Yoongi's locks, pulling them and making him groan against you, fingers pushing even deeper inside you and stroking your sweet spot.

You felt your orgasm approach quickly, a string of moans and whimpers left your lips. Yoongi's thumb pressed against your clit, circling it harshly and finally bringing you to the edge. Your hand gripped his hair even tighter and you cried out his name, legs shaking as a pang of pleasure exploded in your lower abdomen.

But Yoongi didn't stop, with his lips attached to yours, blocking your screams, he kept pistoning his fingers in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm until your shaky hand gripped his wrist, as you were too sensitive to continue.

He broke the kiss and brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting your sweet cum on his digits, "You taste delicious, princess" he spoke with his deep voice, planting another kiss on your lips.

You smiled at him in your post-orgasm haze, cheeks flushed with droopy eyes. "I should return the favour now, what do you think?" your legs moved closer to him on their own, and you found your hand already making its way towards his tummy.

He took your hand in his, shaking his head "I don't wanna waste time, I want to be buried inside you right now" he claimed, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, trapping you again between the ground and his waist.

You whined at his sudden action, but Yoongi didn't give you any time to understand what was happening as he brought his hand down your butt cheek harshly, a light smack reached your ears.

You moaned at the sudden contact, feeling your plump skin burn under his tight grip, "M-More… please," you cried out for him, feeling an unknown pleasure from what he was doing. You never minded that much, a bit of spanking was always there in your bed activities but Yoongi literally lit up a fire inside of you and you melted every time his palms touched your hot skin.

"Is princess that needy?" you could feel the smug grin in his voice, satisfied with the effect he had on you. You bit hard on your lip and pushed back your butt, nodding fervently. He quickly pulled down his pants, his warm cock now rested heavily against your backside as he stroked your cheeks.

However, instead of giving you what you wanted, he wrapped a hand around himself and pressed his tip in your entrance, without entering fully. You whined again, sick of all his teasing while you squirmed under him, desperate to feel him inside.

He blocked your movements with one hand and bent down towards your ear, growling "Stop being a brat, or else daddy won't give you the fuck that you deserve today" his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, biting it and finally pushing his length fully inside of you.

A loud moan left your throat at the sudden intrusion. Yoongi gave you some time to adjust as he wrapped his arm around your waist, "But for now I will let that pass, I don't wanna play games" as he said this, he began moving his hips. His thrusts weren't fast, but slow, deep and intense, making you feel at every movement that delicious stroke against your walls that almost made you go crazy.

You searched his hand with yours until you found it on your hip, and squeezed it. The tender gesture of holding hands was in stark contrast with the things he was doing to you. While his right hand was occupied with yours, his left one travelled towards your swollen bud, ready to give it again the attention deserved.

As his thrusts sped up, slamming his hips against you, his digits quickly worked their magic on your clit. "Yes…! Yoongi, oh my god," you mewled, the pleasure difficult to bear, "You're so big, it feels too good," you praised him, pushing your head back, trying to meet his thrusts.

You could hear him gasping from time to time, in sync with his dick coming in and out of you. Another wave of pleasure washed over you when you realized how strained he sounded, proud that you were making him feel this way.

His hips stuttered and the pace he was maintaining started to falter. You knew he was near the edge by the small grunts that left his glistening lips with every thrust and you were close as well.

As you finally managed to match with his thrusts, setting a new, hard pace, Yoongi dug his nails into your soft skin, "Fuck princess, you're squeezing me so tight" almost out of breath, he gripped onto you as if his life depended on it.

Another couple of quick, rough thrusts and he found himself slumping over you, whispering your name in a broken moan, right into your ear. You shuddered as you felt his cum coating your velvety walls, milking him as you reached your climax as well for the second time.

As the after waves of the orgasm wouldn't let your legs stop quivering, Yoongi squeezed his arms around you, keeping you close to him as he rested his head on your back, eyes closed and catching his breath.

You two stood there, without moving for a moment, your limbs slowly relaxing.

"That was amazing" he whispered with a raspy voice, getting off of you and caressing your arms. You smiled to yourself and nodded, agreeing with him without a single word, turning towards him and putting on your long-forgotten shorts.

Yoongi kissed your forehead with a foreign sweetness, enveloping you again in a warm hug. You closed your eyes and buried yourself deep into his chest as your mind slowly came back to reality. You glanced up, staring into his eyes and playing with your nails, you suddenly had many questions swarming inside your head but maybe… it was better not to open your mouth for now.

You suddenly took a look at your hands and noticed how wrinkled they were, you scrunched up your nose and showed your palms to Yoongi. "I think it's better if we get out of here" you pouted and Yoongi nodded, soon following you.

When you returned to the camping site, everyone was awake and eating breakfast. Jimin spotted the two of you first and waved at you, calling for Yoongi. "Where were you, lovebirds? You're totally soaked" he took a close look on you, going inside the camper to take two warm towels and you kindly thanked him.

"We discovered a little pond down there, it's really nice and it's not even that deep," Yoongi explained, sitting on the bench next to Hoseok, with you next to him.

Currently, Jin had just finished cooking breakfast for everyone, while Taehyung already had his nose deep in his precious strawberries. You remembered him mentioning his love for those fruits, and at first you didn't understand his excitement but after he let you try his strawberries… you swear that was the sweetest thing you ever tried.

In front of you sat Jungkook, playing some game on his phone, with Namjoon by his side, who was eyeing you in a weird way. But you didn't mind his behaviour at that moment.

For now you just wanted to eat and enjoy the rest of the day with the boys. You still felt butterflies in your stomach while thinking about what happened at the lake and you were excited to discover what that day would bring to you.

385 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Deal With The Devil. Yan Hades Giorno x Reader

Warnings: Isolation, implied kidnapping, forced marriage, brief non explicit sexual themes, and mentions of death. Word count: 3.2k.

Time alone is better than time spent in the company of someone you despise.

Skillful fingers run over the wilted stems of your carnations, a frown on your face at the current lifeless appearance. Dull shades of grey slowly turn to a vivacious green where your fingers pass over. Next are the petals, which are all but gone, a far cry from the flora’s typical beauty. At your delicate touch, it’s as if the hands of time are set in reverse. Soft fibers tickle your bare your skin, petals flourishing anew, now with a rosy glow. Standing from your bed, you return the revitalized carnations to their previous position on the windowsill.

The bright, pastel colors are in stark contrast to the obsidian colored walls that trap you. Darkness, like an everlasting night, cannot be cast aside by your pretty decorations. No matter how hard you try to do just that. The lone sources of illumination in the underworld, torches or lanterns, have also earned your scorn. How you had taken the sun for granted, the natural warmth it provided ethereal in comparison to this manufactured light. Sighing, you push the negative thoughts away, aware they do nothing for you. Wallowing in your grief harms the precious flowers you create.

The onyx marble flooring beneath your bare feet is cold and unnatural. Closing your eyes for but a moment, you remember how blades of grass used to feel in the summer and spring. Those blissful days traversing fields without a care in the world feel like centuries ago. You’ve tried to recreate grass as it is on the surface, but with mixed results, and now stick with forming flowers instead.

You take a mental inventory of the surrounding flora to check for problems. These creations of yours are a reliable pastime and bittersweet memory. No matter the life you instill into the delicate blooms, in the underworld, they wither away at an accelerated pace. Your days are spent reviving them or creating new bouquets to decorate this dreadful bedchamber. What else is there to do?

Nothing, you answer the question yourself, scowling. As if on cue, your poppies wilt at the sharp turn in mood, petals falling onto the ground and crumbling to dust. So the cycle continues. Understanding the passage of time when there is no sun is difficult, but if you were to guess, those poppies were just a few hours old. While you consider what to replace them with, a pair of eyes watch from nearby.

“In my brief time down here, this would be my first time seeing such beautiful flowers.” A feminine voice praises. Your eyes widen, head whipping around to find the source of the words. In front of your canopy bed stands a wispy figure. It takes the faint form of a human being, though lacking color and partially transparent.

It takes a second of tentative thought for you to realize what this apparition is. A soul. Not just any soul, a soul of a mortal, you presume. You haven’t spoken to a mortal in some time now. How did a soul manage to find its way to you, hidden away in the depths of the underworld’s palace? As if sensing your bewilderment, the soul speaks up.

“Is it true that I am speaking to the daughter of Demeter?” The soul questions. You nod, pushing down the agony of hearing your dearest mother’s name. “Then it seems I have hope after all.”

Silence settles in after the soul’s relieved statement. You take the time to contemplate the possible meaning of this soul’s words, reaching no conclusions. “How is it that you’re here?”

“... You will not call on his guards?”

Biting your bottom lip, you swallow down the bile that threatens to rise in your throat at the passing mention of him. “I will do no such thing.”

“Then lend me your ear for but a moment,” the soul’s voice is tinged with melancholy. “I am dead now, yes, but I was once alive. At that time I was Sotiria. I mothered three children, each splendid in their way, the lights of my life... I do not say this for complaining’s sake but to offer perspective. I never was given a decent lot in life, the child of a sickly widow whose face I can no longer remember.

Poverty was all I knew until I drew my final breath. I took work equally as it came, whether it was working the fields or being a companion to men at night. Anything for the sake of feeding three hungry mouths. But it was never enough. My youngest, Cyril, fell ill. To keep him alive I had to be by side at all hours. And so it goes… at my wit’s end from starvation, I had no choice, you must understand.”

Sortiria’s voice grows weaker, barely reaching your ears as she finishes her sentence. “I coveted, and I stole. Nothing more than I would need to keep my children alive for another day. When they caught me, well,” she motions to her phantom-like form with a pained smile. “I was killed.”

Your heart aches at her plight. “How terrible...”

“Yes, I’d agree so,” she doesn’t linger on the topic, eager to move to her final point. “But it need not end this way.”

“There is a reason I stand in your presence now. I heard rumors, waiting among the listless souls for Charon to ferry us to judgment. Rumors that gave me hope where I had none. That the god of the underworld had taken a wife, a wife who boasts a compassionate heart. You, [First].”

The pieces she’s presented you with fall into place. Your lips part, the world around you spinning, as Sotiria presents a final plea. “Please, go to him and ask that I may return to my body. That I may return to my children. Us humans have taken to praying to you for mercy when knocking on death’s door. I implore you, hear my prayer now.”

“I will not speak to him, no, I refuse to speak to him. Even if I did as you asked, who is to say he will listen to me? My cries for freedom have been denied, how would this be any different? I hear your prayers but have no power to answer them. My matrimony did not make me the goddess of the dead.”

Neither of you dares to mention Giorno by name, remaining cautious of what could happen, as he’s made aware every time his name is spoken. Even the mortals fear him, you think. And for good reason. You wonder if that’s how this was presented to the humans. A requited romance between the daughter of Demeter and Giorno, a union that gives hope to those dying. None of them know the truth, that you’re forced to remain here, tucked away from the wistful life you once had. That his self proclaimed adoration is nothing but suffocating and self-serving.

“You and you alone are the apple of his eye,” Sotiria insists with utmost urgency. “He will heed your words more than anyone else’s.”

“He has refused me everything of value that I have begged for.” The words are spat out with venom. You fail to notice that with your growing temper, the flowers you tended to prior shrivel up at unprecedented speed, a reflection of your distraught emotional state. Your chest heaves with each strained breath, fists clenching by your side until your nails pierce your skin. Does Sotiria not understand? How could anyone empathize with how the sorrow you feel? You stand in this saturnine chamber that remains your prison, Giorno the steadfast ward.

“I can not speak on what I don’t know,” she lowers her head. “But I do know this. You have his favor. You are his wife -- whether it was by your design or not -- and he holds affection for you in his heart. Go, speak to him, I beg of you. If not for my sake, then for my children.”

“But--”

“I can’t spend any more time here,” Sortiria looks around, her already faint form disappearing. “Please.”

Then she is gone.

You stare, eyes wide as a doe, at the spot Sortiria once occupied in your dim room. Nothing of her remains but the convicting call for action. Her words ring like funeral tolls in your mind, unrelenting, and weighing down on you. There’s no denying the effect her request has on you. Sortiria’s dedication to her children reminds you of your mother, who has tried everything to get you back. An ache in your chest pushes you forward, your legs moving subconsciously to the door.

She risked eternal damnation to speak with you. Leaving your room that never remains locked, you’re met with a similar color palette of midnight black and crimson red bricks. Hell flame is blinding at first, but when your eyes adjust, you catch the demonic guards stationed at your door looking in surprise. Giorno has granted you the freedom to traverse his palace as you please, but you rarely take him up on the offer, preferring to spite him by remaining in your room. When he searches for your company he knows where to find you. Loneliness haunts Giorno Giovanna like a plague, never warded off successfully until he acquired you.

No one dares question your intentions, averting their gaze to avoid eye contact as you travel down twisting halls. Your heart pounds against your ribcage through the journey, not knowing how Giorno will react to your uninvited appearance. This would be the first time you’ve sought him out of your violation. While wandering his palace, you can’t help but notice the difference in decorum compared to your room. He had tried to make adjustments to your personal space so that it would reflect a different aesthetic than the underground, fully aware of your displeasure with the gloomy architecture.

Not that it matters, you think. Nothing could make up for what Giorno’s taken from you aside from permanently returning to the surface. Rounding a sharp turn, you hold your breath at the sight. Cerberus towers in this grand hall and immediately picks up on your presence. The daunting creature lowers itself to the ground, three pairs of eyes piercing through you. A tense moment later, it seems content to let you pass, recognizing your position as Giorno’s beloved.

Behind Cerebrus is where your true challenge lies. Two monumentally sized doors that lead to Giorno’s throne room stand in your way. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, Sortiria’s words reverberating in your mind. Perhaps you are soft on the mortals, as your mother once warned you, but she was guilty of the same. Should you be successful, and Sortiria lives to tell the tale, you wonder if your mother will visit her and ask after you.

The doors open when you take a step forward. This palace is an extension of Giorno, you’ve come to realize, bending to your whims to please you. While lacking the necessary preparation to make a sound argument, you have an idea of what may convince Giorno to do as you bid. Any confidence you may have had from knowing you have his favor melts like ice in the spring when his eyes land on you. These eyes, that belong to one of the universe’s most powerful gods, feel heavy and cumbersome. Giorno nods his head in acknowledgment, a good sign. You wish you could hear his thoughts. His sculpted face is impossible to read as ever, in comparison, you feel like an open book.

You manage to force out a cordial greeting despite your petrified state. “I was hoping to have an audience if you’re not otherwise occupied.”

Giorno sits on his sizeable throne, presence imposing yet regal. In contrast to his spun gold hair, the throne is dark as twilight, embedded with rubies and numerous precious gems. He isn’t just the god of the dead, you remind yourself, but also the god of wealth. That’s all Giorno has ever felt like to you, some distant figure. Nothing more, not now or ever. His attempts to kindle an intimate relationship with you have been discarded like weeds. Now in his physical presence, reverence takes place of the disgust you normally feel towards him.

“If it pleases you.” Giorno’s voice is undeniably soothing, every syllable ringing clear as a bell. At his confirmation, you tread forward, over an expansive vermillion carpet. The walk feels like an eternal punishment. He takes the time to scrutinize your body language. You didn’t expect anything different, fully aware that he’d be taken aback by this bold arrival. Doubts in your head cry louder as you lessen the distance. That after all this time, he might see fit to punish you for this final act of entering his throne room without an invitation. Interfering with Giorno’s work might be the final insult he tolerates. You are his wife, but what respite has that granted you before?

You bow your head down as a show of respect. “I apologize for arriving unannounced.”

“Your presence is a welcome one,” Giorno seamlessly dismisses your concern. “Though, I might add, unexpected.”

Despite your best efforts, your posture goes rigid, likely playing into what Giorno designed. Your husband is as pleasant as he is efficient in his conversations, you’ve learned. It’d be a fool’s wish to think otherwise. Sortiria’s words, though you wish they didn’t, held truth. All have come to know Giorno’s affection for you through his special treatment. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“I would’ve come sooner, but I feared you were busy.”

Giorno gazes up at your through golden eyelashes, voice lowering as he speaks from the heart. “I will always make time for you.”

Is it wise to start with your true request? The clock’s ticking and you need to decide without further delay. Anxiety and regret battle for dominance in your mind, but you keep it at bay, recalling the true priority. A mother’s tender love for her offspring. There’s nothing more important to you than doing right by this tormented soul. Sortiria’s words resurface, “Us humans have taken to praying to you for mercy when knocking on death’s door”, she had told you. You were but a minor goddess until this point, and content as you were with that, there was nothing of astonishing value for you to offer the world. Creating and maintaining gardens was all you could do. Now, you have a real chance to do good, to reunite a family. The prayers offered up to you until give strength.

“Would you please stand?” You ask with a sheepish smile. It’s a simple request to test the waters and also a way to feel less intimidated. Giorno blinks but voices no complaints. From his throne, he stands, still towering over you but feeling less intimidating. You step forward, raising your hand and placing it to his cheek. His skin is cold and smooth to the touch. It reminds you of the flower petals you adore so much. There’s no denying Giorno’s beauty, you must confess, it’s almost like his face is perfectly sculpted art. You can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Truth be told, there’s something that troubles me deeply,” you confess, to which he frowns. “That’s what I wanted to speak about.”

Giorno prompts you to continue. “And that is?”

The worst he can do to me is say no, you tell yourself. He’s had no difficulty doing that in the past when you’ve begged for freedom. No harm would come to you -- any spite Giorno might feel would be directed elsewhere -- but that doesn’t bring comfort. Sortiria would be punished if Giorno believed she was taking advantage of you. Sentenced to eternity in Tartarus.

“A single request. I wish to reunite a soul with her body, so that she may continue her life that was cut short,” you rub your thumb over his cheek. “Please do me this one good.”

“Sortiria, was it?” Giorno takes your stunned silence as confirmation, not that he needed any. The two of you were careful not to mention him by name. So he knew all along? It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but you still feel disheartened, blood draining from your face.

“It’s a rare occurrence that I permit a soul to leave the underworld,” he explains what you already know in a calm tone. “[First], you know I hate to deny you anything, but--”

“I wasn’t done.” You interrupt without thinking, overwhelmed by enough emotion to drown out logic. Giorno’s mannerisms and subtleties can be picked up on after all this time you’ve spent with him, and you know he was going to politely reject your request. Neither of you utters a word. It’s a split-second decision, but you set your qualms aside, considering the greater implications.

“Giorno,” you call him by his name for the first time, his eyes widening at the slight nuance. “If… if you do this for me, I… I will allow you to finally consummate our marriage.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire from the lascivious suggestion. There’s nothing else you can offer Giorno that’s valuable enough to convince him. Nothing other than yourself that is -- which you’ve vehemently refused him up until now -- swearing you’d sooner cast yourself into Phlegethon than let him lay with you. You hear your heart pounding in your ears as you await his final response. Giorno’s eyelids flutter shut, eyebrows scrunching together.

“This means that much to you?” He asks, not entirely convinced himself. This fiery passion you’re portraying is new. Days of passively tending to your flowers gave him a different impression of you. Now, faced with a cause you truly believe in, you’re willing to do anything.

“It does,” you confirm without further hesitation. “Please give me this single happiness.”

You don’t dare breathe until Giorno speaks again. He reopens his eyes and appears deep in thought. Dread clouds your mind, dominating any thoughts that might bring you comfort. You’ve done the best you could.

“Very well.” Giorno bends to your whims after a long moment’s deliberation. Joy blossoms in your chest, a genuine smile gracing your features. He places his hand over yours, shivers running down your spine from the cool sensation. The negotiations are far from over, as Giorno returns his attention to your prior claim. He wants to test your conviction and see if you’ll give him a piece of what he’s ached for.

He squeezes your hand gently, voice so quiet that only you could hear it. “Is what you said true?”

It’s the only viable option, is how you reaffirm yourself. A degrading option, you recognize, but no one aside from the two of you would ever know. It’s been a long and good fight that you’ve put up. Denying a god his desires is not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. Goosebumps dot your skin, reality feeling so far away, as you seal your fate.

“You have my word.”

Giorno smiles -- in a way you’ve never seen before -- an unidentifiable gleam in his omnipotent eyes.

“Then I will see it done.”

667 notes · View notes

korgidorgi · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader "CONFESS!"

Word count: 2594

Warnings: Things get a little steamy, but NO SMUT!!! I'M NOT READY FOR THAT!!!

After a lil downer party of Tony’s, Y/N steals wanda away so they can actually enjoy the night and get a breather. One thing leads to another and they're confessing their love for each other. <3

You’ve lost count of how many parties Tony Stark has thrown so far in the year. In only the 3rd month of the year, you’ve exceeded 10 parties. You didn’t really socialize with strangers, mostly keeping to yourself or one of the Avengers. Natasha was normally good company, or Steve. Keeping your drink close to you, a hand over top of it, you barely hang onto a conversation between Rhodey and some stranger he’d dragged you to meet. You glance around the room, trying to wake up your eyes before they drift shut. Over on the other side of the large room sits Wanda, looking bored as all hell, but mostly uncomfortable. She’s not one to put herself out there either. You figure Rhodey won’t notice if you slip away, as he is too caught up in trying to tell his “lookin’ for this” joke for the millionth time.

You make your way over to the lonely witch, weaving past moving bodies and avoiding those who might call for you. You grab a drink from the bar for Wanda as you move. Holding the two drinks, you nearly get knocked over as a rambunctious Thor tells tales of Asgard and shows off Mjölnir.

You finally reach Wanda, breathing a sigh of relief from your little journey.

“You look like you could use a drink.” You greet her, offering the full glass in your hand.

Her head spins to look at you, a bit surprised at your sudden appearance. She mutters a small thanks, taking the glass and holding it in her lap as she flashes you a small smile.

“I’ve lost count of how many parties he’s thrown.” You comment, taking a seat next to her.

“Too many.” She replies, looking down as she swishes the drink around.

You look over at her, taking her all in. Her red jacket seems to give her a sense of security as she pulls it tighter around herself. She avoids looking at anyone, uneasily shifting in her seat. Her red hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few pieces of hair falling to the side of her face, framing it beautifully.

You hesitantly put a hand on top of one of hers in an attempt to show her some sort of comfort. You glance around the room at all the people before looking back at her, finally meeting her eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. Stark won’t mind if we went somewhere else.” You suggest. “What do you say?”

Wanda just looks at you, and then looks away, keeping her eyes down as she plays with her drink some more. You wait patiently for her to think about what she wants to do.

“I think that would be relieving for me.” She responds, her soft sokovian accent drifting through the noisy air with ease.

You stand, setting down your nearly finished drink and offering your hand for her to take. A small, comforting smile graces your lips as you await her next move. She easily accepts your hand and sets her drink down next to yours, standing up next to you. You gently pull her along with you as you weave the two of you through the noisy bunch of Avengers and strangers. You pull her towards the elevator, looking back at her every now and then as you continue forward. Finally reaching the elevator, you escape the crowd with Wanda. You quickly press the button, calling the lift to the floor. You impatiently wait for the ding, bouncing on your toes.

The sudden ding nearly makes you jump as you snap your head to the doors that are sliding open. You extend your hand, motioning for Wanda to step in ahead of you. You follow her in and hear the doors close and block out the majority of the noise from the party.

“Where do you want to go?” You ask, leaning slightly her way in question.

Wanda contemplates for a moment, rubbing at her hands. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Maximoff?” The AI responds. “Can you take us to the roof?” She requests, looking up, though there is nothing to look up to.

“Right away, Miss.” Jarvis responds.

The elevator starts up, bringing the two of you higher. The ride up is quiet as the two of you breath sighs of relief and begin to relax.

“Thank you.” Wanda finally speaks.

“Don’t mention it.” You softly smile at her. “You looked like you needed a getaway.”

“I did.” She lets out a tired chuckle, moving some of her hair out of her face.

The elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the top floor. The doors slide open, allowing the two of you to step out.

“After you.” You offer.

The two of you find the door out to the roof of the large tower. You step outside first, holding the door open for Wanda. She ducks her head in thanks as she steps through. You let go of the door, allowing it to shut as you follow her. She wanders around the roof a bit before settling on a spot. You take a stand to her right, staying quiet as to not disrupt her peace. The cool winds of midnight New York City ruffle your hair, throwing a few strands in your face. You opt to ignore it as you look around the lit up city. You watch billboards flash their ads as people hustle and bustle around the streets. Your gaze finally settles on Wanda. The glow of the city lights reflect in her eyes and illuminate her features. The wind does less justice for her hair, having her constantly have to hold it back out of her face to the point where she, too, gives up trying to manage it. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh city air and closing her eyes as she lets it all back out. The silence stays comfortable as the two of you watch over the city, enjoying this peace from the party.

“I can’t hear them anymore.” Wanda finally says, breaking the mutual silence.

You look back at her, tilting your head and humming, asking her to clarify what she meant.

“Back down there, everyone’s thoughts were so loud,” she begins, “it was hard to shut them out. It was all a jumble of senseless words coming from all directions.”

You hum once again, acknowledging her statement. You can’t imagine having not only people's voices assault your ears, but also their thoughts invading your head, whether they be good or bad thoughts. You shift closer to her, unsure of whether you should respond or what to do next.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you back there.” She speaks again, shifting over and leaning her head on your shoulder.

“You looked miserable,” you speak softly, “how could I leave you to silently suffer?”

You hesitantly put your arm around her, pulling her just a little bit closer and making sure she knows you’re not bothered by her actions. The two of you stand with each other for a while longer, the nippy air finally driving you to go back inside.

“You’re cold…” Wanda notices. “You should go back inside before you freeze.”

“I’m fine with whatever.” You remark. “I’ll go wherever you need me.” You offer.

She pulls away from you, grasping your hand to bring you back inside to the warm tower. She leads you back to the elevator. “Why don’t we go to my place?” She offers, stepping through the opening doors.

“Wherever you want, Wanda.” You give her a smile.

To your joy, she cracks a smile as well before instructing Jarvis to take the two of you to her floor.

“You’re a good friend.” Wanda says. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“You’re fun to be around.” You smile.

“Yeah, well, I can be a downer.” She responds.

“Sometimes, but everyones like that on occasion.” You assure her. “Myself included.”

“I guess.”

You look over at her, watching her shuffle and play with her hands. “Is there something bothering you?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, opting to not tell you what’s going on in that pretty head of hers.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” You back off.

“No, it’s just-” she starts, “I don’t know how to tell you.”

“That’s okay, when you’re ready.” You give her a reassuring nudge.

“Thanks…” She mumbles shyly, tucking another strand of hair out of her face.

You can hear her breaths getting deeper as she tries to urge herself to tell you what she wants. You try to think of a way to relieve some of the awkwardness in the small moving room.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Wanda?”

“If you were attracted to someone, like, you want to be around them all the time, and hug them, and, I don’t know, kiss them; how would you go about telling them?” She asks finally.

You think for a moment. “Not exactly sure what I’d do. I’d probably be too scared to bring up such a thing.” You begin. “It sounds like being in love with someone. Is that what you’re asking about?”

“I think so… Yeah.”

“Well, then, I’d probably want to spend time with the person and make sure they don’t hate me. If I could gain the courage and I know this feeling is real, I’d probably whisk them away for a day and find some way to confess. When the moment’s right, y’know?”

Wanda just nods from beside you. “And how would you confess?”

“I’d probably just say something along the lines of: ‘Hey, I think I like you, like, a lot. I just think you’re really pretty, and smart, and I know you think you’re not important, but to me you are. And, well, I think I’m in love with you.’” You try to give her some sort of advice to go off of.

The elevator is silent again as it nears it's stop quicker and quicker. “And, if they wanted, I’d probably kiss them, y’know? With their consent of course.”

“May I ask why you’re asking me this?” You force yourself to ask her. “Is there a certain someone who’s stolen your heart?”

This is the moment your heart could flutter, or drop. It beats hard and quick in your chest as you try to prepare yourself for her answer.

“Yes.” Wanda answers, her voice nearly a whisper.

You swear your heart’s stopped at her response. The silence is deafening. You quickly push those feelings aside, wanting to avoid making this conversation awkward.

“So, is it a he? Or is it a her? Or maybe a they?” You lightly tease, trying to keep the atmosphere comfortable.

Your enthusiastic questioning earns a giggle from Wanda and you can see a blush covering her cheeks as she tries to hide it.

“Is it someone I know?” You ask her.

“Maybe…” She giggles.

“Is it someone on the team?”

“Maybe.” She teases again.

“Is it… Vision?” You guess. “I know you two get along pretty well.”

“Uh... no.” She answers, laughing at your teases.

“Okay, you’re not gonna tell me…” You squint your eyes playfully at her.

“Who said I’m not going to tell you?” She teases back.

“I don’t know, maybe it's because you refuse to answer my questions.”

“I was answering your questions, just not what you wanted to hear.” She teases again.

“Alright, then who is it?” You ask, your heart picking up again.

She mumbles something, low enough that you can’t make out what it was. You tilt your head.

“What was that?” You ask, a tease still evident in your tone.

“You!” She blurts.

Her hand immediately flies over her mouth and she panics, backing herself into the corner of the small room. You’re stunned for a moment and you stand still, processing what you just heard.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I-”

You finally look at her, a smile beginning to take over your lips.

“Please. Don’t apologize.” You quietly tell her. “I… I like you too, Wanda. A lot.”

You offer her another smile, hoping she will calm down and not be so embarrassed. You watch her release the breath she’s been holding and she visibly relaxes a bit.

“Y-you do?” She asks, dropping her hand from her face.

You nod at her confidently.

“Can I…?”

You nod again. She approaches you, placing a soft hand on your cheek, her eyes sparkling as she gazes into yours. Your gaze falls to her lips and you subconsciously lick your own. She catches this and gently captures your lips in hers. Her other hand comes up to hold your other cheek as she pulls you closer into her. Your own hands fly to her waist, pulling her flush against you by her hips.

The kiss starts off soft, gentle, trying to find the right pace, but as it progresses, the two of you want more. Just as Wanda’s about to deepen it, a clearing throat interrupts and the two of you fly away from each other, pinning yourselves to the walls of the small room, both of your faces glowing bright red as your breathing quickens. Natasha stands on the other side of the open doors, her arms crossed over her chest and a small smirk playing at her lips.

“H-how long have you… have you been there?” You sheepishly ask, trying to find words and get yourselves out of this awkward situation.

“Long enough. Door’s been open a while.” Natasha responds.

“O-oh.” You look down, completely embarrassed by the sudden turn of events.

Silence fills the area for a moment before Natasha breaks it once more. “Well, are you getting off?” She prompts.

“Yes, yes ma’am.” You stutter, quickly pulling Wanda out with you to allow Natasha her ride.

“You’re lucky it was me and not anyone else.” She teases before calling out to Jarvis. “See you ‘round, Lovebirds.”

The two of you look at each other and as soon as the doors close, the two of you make a run for Wanda’s room. Once you’re in, Wanda quickly shuts and locks the door and the two of you take a moment to recover from what just happened.

You look at Wanda and the two of you share the same thought as she surges forward to continue what you two started. This kiss begins rough, but the two of you quickly find a perfect rhythm. Wanda continues to walk into you, wanting to be even closer. Her arms wrap around your neck and yours find their way around her waist, pulling her with you by her back. You begin to bump into objects and furniture, quickly catching things as they fall and placing them back upon their surfaces.

“That’s hot.” Wanda mutters, allowing the two of you to regain some breath before continuing.

She continues walking you back, this time guiding you around objects. She continues to guide you around her room, walking you backwards towards the bed. You know exactly where you are when the back of your heel knocks into the leg of it.

“It’s getting a little hot in here.” Wanda husks.

“Would you like to take off your jacket?” You respond suggestively, quickly helping her peel it off.

“Aren’t you a bit hot too?” She suggests, smirking against your lips.

You tear your jacket off as quick as you can so you can hold her again. The two of you are a tangle of bodies, trying to get more of the other.

“Shall we take this a step further?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #the avengers #wanda maximoff #fanfiction #fanfic

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

Text

Blood Bounty - Part 2 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, ft. Seokjin x Namjoon Word Count: 15.5K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), vampire feeding during intercourse, referenced non-consensual vampire feeding, attempted non-consensual vampire feeding, attempted vampire feeding on a minor, referenced captivity, referenced injury to animal, blood, violence, gore, threats, obsession, poisoning, murder, minor character death(s), illness, referenced death of brother, historical medical practices, self-inflicted injury (for the sake of vampire feeding), contemplation of action which might result in self-harm, discussion of drugging (with vampire blood)

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: Just a quick note, there will be a few flashbacks in part two, all of which should be italicized (as long as Tumblr doesn’t fail to format properly). Hope you all enjoy it, and please let me know what you think!

...

You wake before Yoongi at the start of dusk, after having fallen back asleep propped against his chest. The tension in your thighs from your two days of riding resurfaces as you stand. Restricted to a strained hobble, you grab the nearest supply sack. Heading outside to take a moment of privacy and address your bodily needs, while leaving Yoongi to continue his rest.

As you finish putting on the fresh clothes you acquired the day before, swapping out for a new tunic and the much needed smaller boots, Yoongi bursts out the door of the ramshackle house. His face fraught with worry. “Your Highness?!”

“Here,” you call over to him, stepping out from the cover of the trees. “I’m here.”

His chest heaves with a sigh as he relaxes. “You should have woken me.”

“So you could hover over me as I change?” You ask with a raised brow as you fit your cap back on your head.

“N-no... it’s just best if...” Yoongi’s reply is marked with stuttered speech and a tone of frustration. “H-how can I keep you safe if you wonder off in the night? You act as though you don’t have a bounty on your blood. There are sure to be hunters about and still looking for you.”

“I didn’t stray far, and there was still light out when I left you.”

“Even so, it worried me to wake, and not find you by my side.” He mutters, before returning inside to fetch the horse’s tackle and the rest of the bags.

“It won’t happen again.” You promise to his turned back, disarmed by his compassionate concern.

While he readies the horse for the day's journey, you keep to the front of the stead. Holding on to the bridal, you brush the dark mane as you make a request. “Are we able to stop at a river soon? The waterskin is running low.”

Yoongi nods, “We will cross one shortly before my ally’s post.”

“Your ally?” You ask, your heart starting to race as you panic over the suggestion. “You never said we would have to meet with more of your kind.”

“He has a residence he keeps for the clan between here and your castle. He will have a spare room and bed for us. I can promise you resting there will be far more comfortable than it has been the past two nights.”

“And it’ll be safe for me to be around such company?”

“He has no need for your blood. He resides there with his blood consort, a human-”

“A human! A captive-”

“No, no of course not.” Yoongi cuts in. “They are companions, Namjoon feeds Seokjin by choice, and in return Seokjin looks after him with his own blood, keeping Namjoon free from age and ailment.”

“But-”

“Seokjin will not approach you if I ask him not to. I trust him.” Yoongi comments as he straps the last bag in, the horse now equipped to depart.

Placing your foot in the stirrup before Yoongi can even offer to assist. Muttering your apprehension over the situation as you attempt to mount the stead. Though your endeavour to reach the saddle on your own fails miserably, resulting in your back colliding with Yoongi’s chest as you fall. His arms catch yours while your foot remains caught in the metal brace. “Careful now,” Yoongi warns you.

“I know. I can do it on my own.” You urge back, frustration edging out into your voice over your apparent state of helplessness, as you struggle to right yourself.

“I’m sure you can.” He chuckles, while pushing you up and onto the horse, before joining you himself. “But it doesn’t mean you have to.”

You shrink down between his arms trying to avoid his touch, continuing to fume over the prospect of spending the day within reach of another vampire. Yoongi may have become less of a concern after the revelation last night, but the thought of being in such close proximity to someone of his clan puts you on edge.

As you shift in the saddle trying to find a comfortable position for your seat, one of his hands comes to clutch your waist. He presses you back against him, mercifully relieving some of the weight from your thighs.

“Better?” He asks.

You nod in reply. Despite your bitterness you lean into him further, the ache being a far more pressing issue at this moment, then the ally you meet later tonight. Soon finding comfort in his support, you turn your concern to the other vampires that neither you nor he can dismiss so easily. “Earlier you said that Taehyung’s hunters are still about, you don’t think they would make it out this far and this quickly do you?”

“For you? Most certainly. I’m sorry to say, I doubt they are far behind.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I was forced to work among them. The swiftest way for me to get to you on my own was to be granted an invitation inside, but to do that I needed to hunt. I gave them a false identity, calling myself Agust, and my services in an attempt to gain their favour.” You go rigid in the saddle. Yoongi must have sensed the change as he is quick to clarify his words. “I never gave them people, only blood I acquired in the same way that I obtained it for myself.”

“And how do you do that?”

“You know I can’t tell you,” Yoongi mutters. You’ve come to despise this answer, still huffing at his need to keep all a secret. “When you keep insisting on hiding it, I start to doubt more and more that I will like the answer.”

He hesitates before replying. “What if that is what I want?”

“I thought you said I shouldn’t judge so quickly? Now you wish for me to dislike you and your ways?” You blurt out in confusion. Why after attempting to build your trust would he want you to hate him so.

“Not necessarily, just to question and be critical once you have all of the information, to hold your own opinion and not my own view. If your memories come from me how can I know that they are unbiased.”

“But how is that a memory of mine if it’s your method of feeding?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond but merely clenches his jaw when you look back at him, refusing to speak anymore on the subject.

The silence between you stretches on for most of the night, he checks in on occasion to ensure that you are well. But other than that you hardly exchange another word, right up to when Yoongi slows the horse at the sight of the moonlit river and bridge. He helps you dismount, and unhooks a pack from the saddle, giving you access to the provisions you require.

“Our stop is only a few more minutes away down road. We have several hours until day break.” He nods to the river, “Take all the time you need. I’ll give you some privacy and take the horse just around the bend.”

When Yoongi leaves your line of sight, you remove your boots, roll your trousers, and step into the chill waters. You take one stride in and another unit you are submerged almost to your knees. Filling up the waterskin you take a long daft, while also savouring the coolness of the river your skin and sores. The bandages on your heels are a ragged mess, in desperate need of being replaced. You reluctantly return to the banks, crouching to rummage through the pack to hunt for something that could be of use to protect the broken skin.

You have no such luck in locating any spare cloth, but find instead a heavy roll of leather at the bottom. Dragging it up to the surface of the pack, you are curious as to what it might be. While peeking up to ensure that Yoongi has not come back to check in, you loosen the string ties and unravel the well-worn wrap. There’s a small clang from whatever lies inside as it unfolds. Your heart races as you attempt to brace the objects within, slowing your motions to prevent the noise from happening again. Not wishing to draw attention to your invasion of the vampire’s belongings.

But your cautionary actions come to a swift halt when tucked inside you find sharp metal instruments, encompassing a variety of shapes, sizes, and serrations. Kept well enough to glare back at you as they reflected the moonlight. You immediately drop the leather carrier to the ground, and stumble away from the horrific implements. Though in your fear and hurry, you miscalculate the security of the ground on which you stand. Teetering on the rocks at the river’s edge, you fall back. Losing your hat to the current, while your hands plunge into shallow water. The sharp pebbles of the bank dig into your palms, skinning off the scab of Taehyung’s bitten wound.

You gasp in pain, pulling your hand out from the river to inspect the freshly opened break in your skin. Yoongi appears seconds later, reaching out for your hand from the edge of the water. “Are you hurt?”

You look from your palm up to Yoongi. The sting of the lesion and his presence triggering a memory of a darkened cobblestone street, a fanged monster hidden beneath a hood, reaching out for your hand, caked with dirt and blood. Then a gap, a break in your recollection, ending with a flash of Yoongi taking that same hand and passing his own blood over yours to close the cut. The brief glimpse ends, leaving you with a bleak look at your alleged friendship.

“You... you gave me your blood?!” You ask, delving further back into the river out of fear, the prospect of the freezing water is nothing compared to the demon who seems to have poisoned you long ago.

“What are you-”

“You gave me your blood. You used your sway to compel me into-into caring for a monster like you!”

His face falls at your accusation. “Is that how you truly view it then? You do in fact see me as a monster?”

“How else can I? Why else would someone like you carry those tools other than to harm? ”

Yoongi looks down, his lips tightening upon seeing your discovery. “Because you gave them to me!” He counters, to your shock and horror, allowing his forced confession to sink in for a moment before continuing in a more sombre tone. “If you feel that I influenced you poorly, for that I am deeply sorry. I thought, I hoped you might have seen it all differently. I had your blessing back then, but I can see that I was right to question my undue-influence on you.”

“I’m not talking about your influence, but your blood, you used it to manipulate my thoughts and actions! If I gave you such things I was surely under your spell.”

“No, I would never intentionally force you to think a certain way! But your circumstances back then made you vulnerable, I fear they made you open to my persuasion, and to desire my good graces.” You stand there thigh deep in the river, frozen in place, as his words continue to challenge your perception and memory. “If you revoke your once good opinion of me I will not fault you for it. But I don’t know how else to remedy my mistakes other than to take you home. Can you please trust me long enough to do that?”

“I-” You begin, while trying to figure out where your answer will end, your head swimming with conflicting recollections of his blood, and kindness to you.

But your answer is halted by the sudden change in the vampire before you. Yoongi turns his head back to the line of trees his nose lifting before like it did when he caught the scent of the highwaymen. “Hunters, they’ve found us.”

A shiver passes over you, unrelated to the cold water. “You can smell them? Are they Taehyung’s?”

“No, not them per se, but the blood they are dressed in, and based on that...” He turns back to you, his expression fraught with worry as he points to the river. “Go in further and remain in there until it is safe to come out. They will not be able to fetch you if the river reaches past the leg of their mount. Promise me, whatever happens, whatever I say, whatever you hear, you will not leave until you are certain it is safe.”

You nod unable to verbalize your agreement. Your breath catches in your chest as you continue to lower yourself into the water's depths. The slow current comes to reach your waist, just before a mounted hunter and his much larger companion on foot break near the banks of the river.

“Agust,” the mounted hunter address Yoongi by his false persona, confirming your dread of who they serve. “Fancy meeting you here. We thought we smelled something sweet, but had not realized you would be attempting to collect it too. Since when do you capture live prey? I thought you dealt more in bottled goods.” He proceeds to laugh at his own words, while his fellow remains silent.

“This bounty is mine Thane.” Yoongi commands from the ground standing between you and them. His attention focused solely on the vampire with the stead, marking him as the superior of the two hunters in your eyes.

“Is it now?” He asks with an air of conceit. “It looks more like it’s just beyond your reach. Smart of her to use our weakness in such a way.”

“She’s just playing a game,” Yoongi mutters. “She won’t last long in there, the cold will send her out soon.”

You wish it wasn’t so, but there’s truth to his words, for you are unsure of how much longer you can bear the frigid temperatures. The chattering of your teeth brings further evidence to them that the chill has sunk deep into your skin.

“If she was so difficult to control why did you not give her your blood?” The larger of the two hunters asks.

“What, and taint the product with my own?” Yoongi spits back, looking offended that the hunter would suggest such practice. “I plan to take her back to Lord Taehyung, unspoiled, and alone.”

The lip of the leader, Thane, curls at Yoongi’s comment. “I do not think you will. She seems like more than you can handle.”

“Then you and your partner leave me to fetch a human who may breach the water’s banks.”

“No, you will come with me. Averill will stay and watch her.” Thane nods to the hulking vampire next to him.

“And leave my blood bounty with you? I think not.” Yoongi’s worry starts to cross into his voice, his wavering tone evident to even you. He stands down with a fake chuckle and proceeds to dismiss their presence by busying himself with the task of repacking the belongings you left out of the sack. “If you're not going to send for assistance leave me be, for I plan to wait as long as it takes to recollect her for his lordship.”

“And what will you do when the sun rises? You are not in a position to negotiate Agust. You should be glad that we are offering to even do you this favour. I hear the reward for this one is greater than any before. Lord Taehyung is offering an immediate position among his keepers to whomever can capture her.”

It becomes clear to you that they will not give in so easily, and Yoongi too pauses upon hearing this news. “Since you insist, I will go with you, but he does not make an attempt to touch her until we get back. If I find out you’ve tried to cross me-”

“He will stick to the shore of the river, until our return.” Thane looks to his companion who nods to confirm that he will abide to such terms.

Yoongi turns his back to them, the light of the moon granting a dim view of the concern on his face. He points one figure at the ground, what you can only only read as a supposed signal for you to stay, before mounting up and riding off with one of the hunters in the direction of his ally.

The vampire on the water's edge began to prowl back and forth, watching you with intrigue. “You look cold and tired my dear. You should come out, let’s not play this game any longer.”

“It’s not a game.” You mutter in response to the vampire.

A menacing grin takes hold of his face. “Of course it is, your kind consider hunting to be of sport, do they not?”

You turn your head and ignore his comment. Letting minutes pass with you in silence, until the vampire's pacing comes to a halt, and the smile has all but faded from his features.“Where the hell are they?”

Considering the torment his clan has brought you, you take great pleasure in seeing his frustration rise. “What’s wrong?” You tempt him, hoping that he might be foolish enough to try to reach you on his own. “Does the night wane too quickly for you? Is the vampire afraid of a little sunlight as well as running water? With so many weaknesses it’s a wonder you’ve survived.”

“There are still a few hours to go until sunrise human, I wouldn’t raise your hopes just yet. Because when I pull you from that river, I will show you just how well I survive. ” No sooner than the threat passes from his lips, a single horse rides back into view. Though to your terror it is not Yoongi’s stead, but Thane’s, with it’s rider wrapped his tattered and blood stained cloak. Your chest tightens and breathing stops, as you consider what might have happened to Yoongi. His absence brings grim thoughts to your mind regarding his fate, fearing what kind of situation he must be in to prevent his return.

Looking downriver with a choked sob, you contemplate your only escape with Yoongi now gone, ready to take the current to its end, or yours.

The imposing vampire that was left with you calls out to his ally. “What in the devil's name took you so long? I thought you were going to deal with Agust, and bring back someone who could assist? I see no humans!”

Thane doesn’t answer out loud. After dismounting he pulls his cloak tighter, and approaches his friend, leaning in to talk to him. It’s not until a stake pierces Averill’s chest that you see the true face of the rider. Painted with blood from, and contempt for, the being he just slaughtered.

A sense of déjà vu grips you once again, and refuses to let go. You’ve witnessed something like this before, so many years ago. Another memory starts to resurface, another vampire slaying much like this, both executed by the hand of... “Yoongi?!”

...

-10 years ago -

Just a few hours outside of the palace walls, that is all you desire. Dressed in your lady’s maid’s change of clothes you go in search of the sights outside. Hoping to find something unfamiliar and new. After hearing the very maid you ‘borrowed’ the clothes from, discuss the bakery, the public houses, the marketplace, and more. You could no longer hold back your curiosity. Your books and maps are not enough to quell your taste for adventure, your eyes seek to explore the areas that the tomes in your library fail to touch. And since it all resides on the crown's land, surely you have a duty to study it?

As much as you would have preferred to go out in the day, the cover of darkness is so much easier to slip out under. No one should look twice at a person your attire, and you yourself are not expected to be anywhere else other than bed.

Unfortunately that means the bakery is closed and the market packed up. The only place warmed with light and presence is the tavern, but you know it would be foolish to go in there. For you have no coin on hand for a meal, and are far too young to have any other sensible reason for entrance.

Despite your first expedition not being everything you wanted, it only makes you determined to plan better for your next. After two hours pacing the streets, looking for sites of interest, you consider heading back. You turn to face the direction you had just travelled and look for another route home, not wishing to view only the same roads as before. Travelling one side street and another, though you soon make an error and find a dead end greeting you on the third.

Turning about, you double back, but fail to notice the slick pile of refuse, which sends you falling forward. Your hands reach out to stop your face colliding into the cobblestones, while the rest of your body flattens painfully in your tumble.

Following the shock of your plummet you take a moment to inspect your well-being from the ground. You curse your foolish inattention when you find your palms coated in mud, and stinging with scrapes. Resulting in a small amount of blood, beading on the surface of your skin.

A man dressed in a long cloak and hood from the nearby road turns into the alley and encroaches upon your, no doubt pathetic looking form. You thought he might be there to offer his assistance after such a fall, but he only looks down upon you with a hunched posture.

“Well aren’t you a rare breed. Surely you are not from these parts, or I would have found you before.” His sinister words immediately put you on your guard, after giving you the impression that you are something to be collected rather than aided.

“I’m sorry sir but you are mistaken.” You ascend from your knees and brush yourself off, seeking to flee his uncomfortable presence, but the stranger blocks your path. With an outstretched arm, his hand rests against the wall, taking up the entire width of the alley. The lower half of the man’s face peaks out from beneath his hood, only to show his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You clench your jaw and stand firm, attempting to give him reason to reconsider preying on one such as yourself. “I hail from here, and my family expects my return soon. Now let me pass.”

“I am not mistaken, I know a new and valued vintage when I smell it, and you are quite something...” He steps closer as you back away, continuing to cut off your escape by dragging his fingers along the stone wall. His stride resembles that of a predator, narrowing in on their presumed feast. You raise a hand in to signal for him to stop, but he merely gives it a keen stare.

“Did you hurt your hands my dear? Here let me take a look.” He reaches out with his own taloned hand, his long fingers ending with sharpened nails. “I can help heal them right up for you.”

“Thank you sir, but I would rather just go home and tend to them myself.” You give one last plea, one last appeal to his humanity. Fearing that his next action against you will be truly monstrous.

“It will take only a moment, and I promise,” the fabric of his hood falls back to reveal his feral face with pointed teeth, “You won’t remember a thing.”

He grabs your hand, pulling it to his mouth. You try to tug it back, but his grip is like none you’ve felt, so firm that even the strongest pull you can muster has no impact on him. Even a push to his chest from your other fist does not disturb him. You close your eyes waiting for the pain of his strike but there’s nothing of the sort. Only a soft grip on your wrist for a second and your hand is released. You open your eyes back up in hesitation, to find your attacker pinned against the wall by another.

“We do not feed on children! Have you forgotten our clan’s law?”

“Yoongi, I’m sorry sir you’re right. But you must understand, you must smell how sweet her blood is. Do you not find it as tempting as I?”

“We do not feed on children.” The newcomer reiterates his tone drawing into a low growl.

“Surely she is not so young that you cannot make an exception this once? No one else in the clan has to know sir, it’s just us here. I’ll even share her with you.”

There’s a swift flash of movement and the second has impaled the first through the chest with a wooden stake. The predator who cornered you looks on him with shock before slumping down the side of the wall, leaving a strip of blood in his wake.

You stare into the vial stranger’s blank eyes, unable to quell the worry that he might still launch an attack on you. “Is-is he, is it-” You manage to stutter out, as you battle your nerves, deeply shaken, but increasingly grateful for the intervention of the one before you.

“He’s dead.” The vanquisher tends to the cast-off on his coat and skin, brushing his hand over the crimson stains while he addresses you. “You should run along princess, it’s not safe for you to wander about at night.”

“You-you know who I am?”

“I’ve come across your scent before, it was just after one of your family’s gallant displays of authority.” You tilt your head confused by what he could mean. He takes in your bewilderment and explains further. “One of the royal processions, I spotted you just after dusk when you returned to the castle some years ago. Your aroma is not one my kind would forget.”

“Your kind, what do you mean your kind? What was he?”

“A weak willed monster who feeds on blood, and hunts by night. He is not alone out there, so you should stay very far away from the darkened streets.”

“But you are not like him.”

“I swear to you, he and I are the same.” The man comes towards you lowering himself on one knee and baring his fangs. “He is a vampire, and so am I.”

You don’t turn away but look at them with curiosity. His brow furrows as you move in closer. “And what of your name?” You ask, desperate to know more about him, for his appearance, his very existence, has certainly become the most intriguing part of your night .

“You don’t need-”

“But I would like it.”

“Yoongi. I go by Yoongi,” he mutters, looking taken aback once again. “May I?” He extends his hand for yours. You give it to him with little hesitation, wincing as his thumb brushes the mud away. He pauses upon noticing your discomfort and extends an offer to you. “If I take away this pain, will you promise to go straight home?”

You nod back, wondering how he could offer such a thing. He bites his hand before taking your own, rubbing the blood over the scrapes. And to you surprise, the cuts vanish before your eyes, the skin forming back together as though your fall never happened. Regardless if this being thinks he is a monster or otherwise, it’s apparent a miracle cure flows through his veins. Your brother's condition jumps to the forefront of your mind. “You can heal wounds? Cuts and contusions too?”

“I can.” His answers with a raised eyebrow.

“So you could help my brother?”

“Your brother, what of him?”

“He has an illness. My parents don’t want to spread word of his condition, but whenever he gets hurt, he bruises and bleeds without end. You can save him, right?”

“I cannot assist your brother.” He rises from his knee and proceeds to drag the body of the former vampire deeper into the shadows, all while continuing to answer your request. “Making myself even known to you goes against the wishes of my clan. I should wipe your memories, but if I do, I fear you’ll forget the danger and return here once again.”

“Please! He needs your help.” You beg, hoping that he’d agree to be your salvation once again.

The self proclaimed monster looks at you, while tugging the stake from the chest of the corpse. Meeting your eyes when you refuse to look away from him or the gruesome sight. “If you swear to stay within the walls of your castle and tell not a soul... I will see what I can do.”

You lead him back to your home, the vampire following a few paces behind. Returning to the passage hidden in the roots of the hedge, the trap door beneath the flora, from which you ventured out earlier tonight. You open it stepping in first. Your companion stops as if being held back by some invisible force. “I need your permission to enter.”

“Why?”

“Consider it a courteous limitation of my race. Now do you want me to heal your brother or not?”

“Yes, you may come in.”

Lighting the lantern you left for yourself at the entrance, you lead him through the dark tunnel beneath the castle.

“What is this place used for? I can’t imagine anyone ventures down here much.” He remarks brushing away cobwebs that stretch across the path.

“It is an escape tunnel, to ensure the safety of the royal line. Only my immediate family knows of it. If there were to be danger we could flee down here and leave the grounds. And no, they do not visit here, only I come down myself when I wish to hide away.” The hidden offshoot of the cellar is ample space for you, and far less restrictive than the palace above ground.

You climb a set of stairs ending in a door which returns you to the halls of the castle, the entrance to the secret route concealed behind a painting of a king who came long before. Peeking out into the corridor you find it clear of guardsmen and servants, and doing the same again at your brother’s door.

The physicians and surgeons had left him for the night, which allows for Yoongi to slip in behind you. He checks over your sleeping brother, paying close attention to both the recent injury to his knee and the incision on the inside of his elbow. “Why was this made?” He points to the latter. “It’s too clean to be an accident.”

“Bloodletting, they bleed him regularly to dispose of the weakened blood.”

“Weakened Blood?” Yoongi shakes his head as he reopens the spot on his hand, spreading his blood over your brother's wounds. They close up with the skin returning to its normal state and hue. “I hadn’t realized that surgeons practiced such things. If you want to keep him alive don’t let them bleed him anymore. Come to think of it...” He examines the tools of their trade, and roles up the leather pouch in which they are contained. “May I borrow these? I might have a use for them.”

“Take them, please.” You urge, breathing a sigh of relief. It’s a shock to see your brother's condition, which has plagued your family since his birth, so easily remedied with Yoongi's help. But the worry over the uncertain future still holds. “What if it happens again? How will I find you if I shouldn’t leave the castle?”

“You said few know of the cavern below? I’m in need of somewhere safe to rest during the day when I come to town, that spot will do. If I have your consent to use it?”

...

It’s been a couple weeks since your first meeting. The vampire, Yoongi has grown more comfortable within the tunnel beneath, and far less hesitant around you. You’ve learned so much about him, and his shrouded kin, both the good and the bad.

He lays back against the stonewall his eyes closed in satisfaction. Far different from the first few times you met him. “You look... more relaxed.”

He keeps his eyes closed as he gives you his answer, “I had the ability to address some of my needs I’ve been neglecting. I’ve been able to feed on a far more frequent basis.”

“Oh...” You exclaim, not knowing how to comment further on the topic.

One of his eyes opens to peek at you while he remains at rest. “Does that scare you? Do you fear me now?” He chuckles darkly.

You respond with a quick and decisive, “No.” Catching the vampire by surprise judging from his tongue in cheek and open mouth.

“And why is that?”

“If you took no issue with human suffering you wouldn’t have saved me. You wouldn’t have saved my brother. Did you bring pain to the person you feed on?”

Yoongi scoffs, his tongue still rolling in his cheek as he looks to the floor. “No, I did not. And I have you to thank for that.”

“How did I help?” You ask in utter bewilderment. The two of you have never discussed his own meals before.

“When a vampire feeds they don’t often care about the damage they cause, they can make their prey forget they ever saw them, becoming nothing more than a bad dream. I have been struggling with this way of life for a while now. But you, you gave me another method to feed, and for that I am eternally in your debt.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“I know,” he chuckles back. “I’ll show you one day. When I can be certain it is safe to do so.”

...

A month later, Yoongi sneaks into your room in the dead of night, waking you from your slumber.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” You ask with slurred words as you rub your eyes.

“Nothing, nothing, but I’m ready to show you. Dress in what you wore when we met. We can’t have anyone recognizing you.”

You bolt up out of bed and dash over to your desk. Yoongi watches as you tug out the false bottom you created in one of the drawers that hides the cotton-spun dress from sight.

“You appear to be well versed in the art of hiding secrets princess,” Yoongi laughs, as he examines the panel.

“When every eye in the household seeks to critique you, you find ways to hide your less-than-amiable indulgences.”

“And is that what this is?” The vampire holds up a book of cartographic exploration also stored in the secret nook of the drawer. “An indulgence?”

You take the tome in question from his hand and return it to the drawer, replacing the panel to conceal it. “For a situation like my own it is.”

After changing into the plain garment Yoongi takes you from the castle, bringing only the leather roll of surgical instruments you had given him. He doesn’t take you far, a house, located only a five minute walk beyond the gates of your castle. “Are you sure you want to see this?” He asks as his fist hangs above the door.

You nod, curious as to how he’s been feeding himself.

“Very well, if anyone asks you are my assistant.”

“Assistant for what?”

He answers only with a wide grin as he knocks. The door opens a fraction, by the hands of a startled woman, whom Yoongi is quick to greet. “Sorry to intrude, and so late too. I heard you might be in need of a surgeon?”

“W-we can’t pay,” she croaks back, and attempts to close the door, but Yoongi stops it by placing the leather case in the gap.

“I require no monetary payment. My services have already been covered.”

“By who?” The woman is sceptical, and rightly so. Based on your experience with your brother’s past needs, you know a surgeon’s fee to be no small price.

“The daughter of the crown.”

“The crown? But why would she-”

“Because there are those in this kingdom in need of my assistance. I’m sure you’ve noticed the rapid recovery of your neighbour just a few doors down.”

Her eyes widen, lighting with hope. “The surgeon was you?”

“It was.” He answers with a closed lip smile.

The resident looks from Yoongi to you, her gaze lingers for a second on your appearance, before opening the door further. “You may come in.” She takes you to a small residence, her hands trembling as she escorts you into a nearby bedroom.

The stench of a sickly-sweet rot overpowers your nose the moment you step into the room. You cover your mouth in an attempt to keep down your rising dinner, while Yoongi goes to the aid of an unconscious man laying in bed. A deep and putrid gash extends from the inside of his thumb to his wrist.

“Another surgeon said he might need to take the hand... it’s not so bad is it?” Her voice quakes. “My husband won't be able to work if he loses it.”

“No, he’ll keep it.” Yoongi states, as he lifts a ceramic bowl, notched at the rim, from the bedside table and props the wounded man’s arm over it. Several small cuts already adorn the weak skin at the crease of his elbow joint. “I take it you've bled him regularly?”

The wife nods. “Yes, but we ran out of money. I couldn’t afford to have anyone else continue the bleeding. So I attempted it myself.” She looks down at the floor in shame, clearly upset that she had not been able to help her own husband.

“He will be well again. I promise I can heal this.” He assures her, before turning to you. “Can you hold these for me?” Passing you the same tools you gave him just months before. You unravel the leather pouch. Exposing the sharp tools for his selection, his slender fingers choose one of the smaller blades to make the incision. As the scarlet fluid drains, Yoongi calls for fresh linen and the wife leaves the room in search of his needs.

The second she is out of sight, you start to question the vampire. “Bloodletting? But I thought you said-”

“It’s both a cover, and an exchange. He gives me his, and I’ll give him mine. I must thank you for the tools, they’ve been very helpful in keeping up the disguise. But do you think you can keep her out? I can’t let her see this next part, the improvement to his hand will be too drastic and too quick for her not to suspect a mystical source.” Yoongi requests as he breaks the seal on a bottle filled with thick crimson fluid. Pouring out a drop he rubs his blood onto the festering wound of his subject's hand.

You nod, watching the two sides of the laceration seal together, leaving only a clean scar. When the wife returns with a knock at the door, you take the material and ask her to wait there. Thankfully she obeys without much resistance, taking a seat just outside the room, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion, and her skin slick with the sweat of worry.

You hand over the linen to Yoongi who wraps it around the previously infected area. The man, much to your concern, remains unconscious. “Will he wake soon?”

“It might take some time, but yes. He still has a fever, but that should break in the next couple of hours with the infection gone.”

“And that?” You nod to the basin of blood.

“That, I will keep for myself.” Yoongi finishes wrapping the man’s hand before taking a wine skin from his coat, carefully pouring the viscous fluid into the flask, and taking every drop.

“It won’t affect you adversely even though he was ill when he gave it?”

“No, his ailment won’t harm me.” Taking a draft as if to prove his point, he wrinkles his nose as it goes down, and licks his lips clean to hide the evidence of his feast. “The taste isn’t always perfect, but it fills my needs, and it’s far better than the alternative.”

Yoongi passes off the patient’s care to his wife and warns her not to remove the bandages for several days. A continuation of his ploy to maintain that his methods have a more realistic recovery rate.

After returning you to the passage of the castle shortly before dawn, Yoongi looks to be apprehensive, wringing his hands as he bids you farewell for the day. “Seeing that... taking part in it wasn’t disturbing to you? You do not think it malicious for me to lie and profit in such a way?”

“No, not at all.” You shake your head, and beam at the vampire before you. “I was pleased that you showed me.”

“I owe my thanks to you,” he whispers, as a smile starts to cross his own features.

“But I did nothing.”

“You gave me the idea. I was not aware, nor did I think to benefit from such a human norm. I thought I was condemned to feed like a monster until the end. So as long as you approve, as long as you think it decent to conduct myself in this way, I will continue.”

“You’ve already helped us so much, how could I not? You are the reason my brother is well again, the reason that man will continue to live and work. You are more a saviour than any being I’ve met before.”

...

You thought him a hero in your past. Every action had a valid reason, every motive morally sound. His store of blood, the surgical knives, every memory of his history with you is beyond reproach.

“Yoongi?”

The friend of your past, falls to his knees beside the body of the hunter. He raises a hand to his face to contain a cough, but even from your distance you can see scarlet sputtering from his lips and spilling down between his fingers.

“Yoongi!” You wade through the water as quickly as you can. Reaching his side while he continues to expel blood. “What happened?”

“Powdered silver.” He sputters again spraying your drenched trousers and ground with scarlet. “The bastard asked for some of my drink. I obliged to maintain my cover, but I didn’t notice he poisoned it in the process, and then took a sip myself.” Despite his state he proceeds to hastily shove the body of the vampire into the river, where it starts to burn and disintegrate in the current. “Don’t worry, much like this one, he is far worse off than I.” Yoongi chuckles darkly before doubling over in another fit.

“We need to get you somewhere safe to heal.” You take his shoulder and help him on to the stolen horse.

“Seokjin, he's waiting for my return. I left everything with him. Down the road,” he whispers as another clot of blood leaves his mouth. “You’ll find a stone house.”

Once he is mounted you take the spot behind him this time, in an attempt to keep him in the saddle. “Yes, I remember it now...”

...

- 9 years ago -

You’ve fallen into a routine, where every morning an hour before sunrise you wait in the underground passage to see if Yoongi will show. It’s been over a week since he’s visited last. In the year you’ve known him he has never stuck to a schedule, his visits are random but frequent. You pass the time waiting with a travel log of a famous explorer, and an atlas for reference, studying the map and marking his trek as you pass through the pages. Cartography has long become a hobby of yours, much to the disappointment of your mother, she deemed such interests as unladylike forcing you to hide your activities. Though your hands stained with ink from your nightly studies, have betrayed you on more than one occasion.

The trap door to the outside opens, revealing your long awaited friend. “Yoongi!” You run and pull him into a hug. When you allowed him to rest here and tend to your brother as needed, you never thought that he would become your salvation too, your craved glimpse into the outside world which you have long since been denied. “You said you’d only be gone a few days!”

“I know forgive me princess, something came up. The travel back was slower than expected.”

“Were you able to do what I requested?”

“I was.” He pulls out several pages you had torn from your atlas marking them with details important to those of his kind. “Excuse my penmanship. It’s not as practiced as it once was.”

Dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand you peer down at the sheets eager to see the world from his eyes, starting with the details closest to your own home. “Who is Seokjin?” You ask pointing to a dark spot labelled ‘Seokjin’s Post’ less than a day's ride away.

“I see you waste no time.” Yoongi smiles at your enthusiasm. “A member of my clan, a keeper, one who is stationed at a waypoint for ease of travel.”

“A keeper?” You ask unfamiliar with the vampiric title.

“One who has a claim to our land, and can give permission to other vampires to enter. It’s an honour to be trusted with such a responsibility.”

“Are you a keeper?”

“A form of keeper, yes, I share claim to the main stronghold with our clan’s lord. It took me near a quarter century as a clan hunter to be given permission to even enter, and three times as long to gain my current status. It is a prestigious role, but also a double edged sword, for it also is what keeps me away.”

“I should like to see it.”

“My clan’s fortress? No, I will never take you there, your scent could plunge the whole estate into chaos.”

You frown at the inability to visit his station, but continue to search the map. Finding another castle marked much like his own out to the west. “What of this one? ‘Lord Taehyung’s Fortress,’ you have never spoken of him.”

Yoongi goes rigid as he hovers over the mapped sheets with you. “I have not, for he is of a different clan, with far darker ambitions than our own. I choose to mark it as a warning and a place to avoid. If you should ever hear of or be near someone in his service, run. Run as far and fast as you can.”

You swallow any further questions regarding the rival clan, uneased by Yoongi’s words. Changing the subject again to learn more of your confidant and friend. “Where did you come from if you have not always resided with your clan.”

Yoongi forgoes the sheets you have given him of the surrounding area, taking the atlas out of your hands, he flips the pages to a wider view of the land. “I come from out here.” Pointing to an area not on the page, but to the right of the book, far more east than the last recorded city.

“Off map? Could we visit your old home instead?” You ask, your excitement bubbling to the surface.

“No it is far more than a night’s journey away, making it too long of a trek for you. It would take months on foot, and even if we were to make it, I doubt there would be much left, for the hearth kept by my family grew cold long ago.”

“I would like to see the area at the very least. We could get a horse. Money is no object, I have-”

“Princess, even still, your absence would be noticed. You cannot just disappear for weeks on end and return when you please. You would lose your home, your own station.”

“What if I told you that I don’t want to be a princess. That my dream is to leave this castle, and find an adventure with you.”

...

- 5 ½ years ago -

For years this disagreement raged between you both, with you desiring to leave, and him insisting you must stay. His return is always a bright moment, but your partings always cast a dark shadow when he once again embarks alone. Existence without him in the kingdom is so cold and rigid, to the point where you’ve come to rely on his visits to breathe life back into you, needing his company to live as much as your brother needs his blood. To your dismay the length between each of his appearances grows longer. Though his apologies still accompany him each time you must wait beyond his promised return.

“I told you, you should invest in a horse.” You mutter as you cling to him, greeting him with your usual hug the second he slips into the underground tunnel.

His hand draws across your back soothing you with his presence. “And I’ve told you I don’t need one for myself alone.”

“Then you will get one when we leave together?” You ask, pulling away looking up with hopeful eyes.

“Princess...” He growls as you once again bring up the dreaded topic.

“We need to talk about this Yoongi. We can’t go on like this forever.”

“No, but how is your brother? What would happen if you left?” Yoongi asks, setting up his bed roll for you both to sit on. He never leaves anything behind out of concern that someone in your family will find it while he’s away. Requiring him to get re-situated upon every return.

“He is well...” Your statement trails off unable to make a further valid argument regarding his situation.

“But that could change in an instant. And if you’re not here-”

“I might not be here much longer anyway!” Your statement hangs in the air between you both.

His face reads only of confusion, with his mouth hanging open as he attempts several false starts to respond. “Wh-What do you mean?”

You take your seat next to Yoongi determined to make him see it your way this time. There has been something weighing on you, feelings that you’ve found difficult to approach, but if you don’t say it now you worry you’ll never get to. “I am eighteen Yoongi, and well of age to marry. There have been suggestions of prospects and matches. I’ve tried delaying them but I know I will not stay in this castle much longer either way.”

His eyes darken and brows furrow. “I suppose congratulations are in order then.” His words in no way match his expression.

“No, they are not! I don’t want that life, I’ve told you this before. I have no wish to leave this castle only to become locked in another. You know that is what will happen! Any union made will be to benefit the kingdom in an alliance, they will have their own expectations, their own walls I cannot cross.”

“Maybe that is for the best though. You will live the life you were intended, saving you from a life with a monst-”

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here, or in another castle with your own kind. A life alongside a vampire will not have a happy end.”

“And what of a life without living one’s dream? Without the one you’ve come to admire and befriend. Can that have a happy end? Would it not bother you to yield me to another who is not as kind, nor caring as you? Yoongi, I lo-”

Yoongi emits a low growl halting your argument and paramount confession. “I profess I would loathe to lose you too, but dreams and desires change. I do not wish for you to regret your path with me as I once regretted choosing this life too. If it weren’t for you... ” His voice trails off as he hangs his head in shame. “I could not bear to see you suffer knowing I brought you the pain which haunted me for years. The loss of a family, of a home, I do not wish for you to endure the same.”

“Then what would convince you? What will show you I am truly earnest in my desire?” You ask hoping to find the answer to not only show your determination to leave, but your true feelings for him too.

He pauses the discussion, getting up to pace the room. His fingers run through his hair as he ponders your query. “I don’t want you forced into this because of circumstances beyond your control...” He stops his stride mid thought, and glances to you.“I can still supply your brother with blood if you choose to marry, and leave my side. Now in having that safety I need to know that you’ve given this consideration more time. Without the weight of your brother's life hanging over you.”

“It has been all I’ve wanted these past few years, to leave this place with you.”

“But first I need you to give this life the honest chance without my presence. I will leave you with enough of my blood for the time I’m gone. Though we should discuss who you will entrust to take care of him if you are in another castle, or with me.”

“My lady’s maid.” You suggest, for you know she loves him as much as you, though she tries to keep it concealed. “I would trust his life to her, but how long do you plan to stay away?”

“My clan intends to launch a wave of hunters into rival territory, it’s the best chance we have to take down Taehyung’s stronghold.” Yoongi explains while returning to the seat next to you. “If we can do this before you wish to leave then I will be as far greater ease to take you from here, but knowing that they are out there now worries me when it comes to your safety.”

“How long Yoongi?” You reiterate, scared by his avoidance of your question.

“Six months.”

“But that’s such a long time!”

“If you want to leave with me you will have to endure it, but I wish for you to take this time and consider your options. Don’t close every door yet, simply because of how you feel now.”

You inch closer to him, “My answer will be the same half a year from now. I want you to take me will you.”

“Nevertheless, I would like to wait, and hear it again upon my return.”

“I will do as you ask, but after that wait, I expect you to be ready for me to leave alongside you. We’ll need a travel plan, supplies, and a decent horse too.”

“Whatever you require, I will have. I’ll even let you name the stead.” Yoongi promises with a smirk. Taking the glass vial of blood he uses on his patients from his coat, he gives it to you. Cupping your hands as you take it from him, he leans in, putting his lips enticingly close to your own. “I’ll be back for your final answer, just please think it over. I will bear you no ill will if you decide...” He pauses, a grimace weighing heavy on his expression. “If you decide, you would be better off if you forgot me entirely, and moved on with your life.”

“I would never wish to forget you.” You give another thought to confessing further, telling him how much you’ve grown to love him. How you crave more than just to leave with him. Wishing to close the gap between you and seal your deal with a kiss. But despite your determination to confess to him earlier, you hold your tongue and lips in place. Suspecting that he will dismiss those desires too. When he returns, you reason with yourself, putting it off for a little longer. Yes, then you will express it all to him.

...

Just as Yoongi said, further down the road and nestled between the trees, there resides a small stone house. Had you not been looking for it, you might have missed it entirely. You stop with a pull of the reins, sliding down from the saddle you tie the horse to an outdoor post, and proceed to help the increasingly catatonic vampire with his own dismount. Propping one of his arms over your shoulder you approach the dwelling and hammer on the door.

A booming voice responds from the other side. “It damn well took you long enough!” It opens to reveal a tall man draped in a spattering of blood, extending from his broad shoulders to the small of his waist. He curses upon the sight of you and the barely conscious Yoongi on your shoulder. “I told him he wasn’t well enough to return to you alone.”

He looks human at first glance but a small chuckle reveals pointed teeth hidden by his set of full lips. “‘I must do this Seokjin,’” The vampire utters in his imitative tone of Yoongi. “‘Just look after this one’s body for me.’ That is the last time I do you a favour. I swear I’ve never seen a vampire’s corpse so saturated with blood.... even ruined my favourite shirt.”

Seokjin takes Yoongi from you and calls out to another. “Namjoon? Come help me with this determined fool and his human princess.”

You cringe from the unexpected use of your title, but the vampire pays you no mind. Looking to his human partner who descends the stairs. Namjoon ushers you into their residence, looking troubled by the state of your soggy clothes.

Just as with the abandoned house from the night the windows have heavy shutters that close from the inside, most of which are currently open, letting in the night air. But this dwelling is thankfully well lit, with several lanterns bolted to the walls, a fire roaring off to the side, and an iron candelabra at the centre of a massive wooden table.

The vampires take the lead up the narrow wooden stairs, with you and Namjoon trailing behind. Gliding through an open door in the upper hall, Seokjin places your now fully unconscious companion on the bed of a well furnished room. He takes Yoongi’s tunic and tears it open, exposing a trail of burns down his throat and chest.

“I’ve never witnessed a silver poisoning to this extent. It’s a miracle he was able to still retrieve you.” Seokjin mutters.

Namjoon grabs a blanket from the cupboard, and wraps it around your damp shoulders, before attempting to take you from the room. “Come let's get you some dry clothes.”

But you stand firm and refuse to be parted from Yoongi. Concern grows within you over Seokjin’s statement. “Will he- will he recover?”

“Yes, but it’ll take time. Though if he feeds soon, his injuries will heal far quicker.”

“Do you have any blood on hand?” You ask on his behalf. “With his supply poisoned he has nothing else to drink.”

Seokjin’s eyes bore into you expectantly, a smile coming to the corner of his lips. “Am I not looking at his blood consort now? Has he not fed from you?”

You shake your head, backing away from Yoongi’s supposed ally.

He takes in your reaction with a tilt to his head. “That must have been a struggle for him, considered I’m using all my power to not feed from you now.”

Namjoon steps in between. “Let her be Seokjin, you know who she is, and where she’s been kept. She’s clearly scared to do so, I can spare-”

The smirk on the vampire’s face dies with the offer of his human. “You will do no such thing! Your blood is mine, and mine is yours is it not?”

“It is, however-”

“Then that is the end of this discussion. If she wishes to help him then she must make that sacrifice, not you.” The vampire pushes his human out of the room before he turns back to you. “If I were in your position I would heal him, and do so quickly... for he has given up far more for you than a few drops of blood.” Seokjin then shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone with Yoongi.

You pace back and forth at the foot of the bed, hugging your blanket close in comfort. When you consider feeding him, your anxiety starts to rise to an undesirable peak, with the feeling of your heart rising to your throat and pounding in your ears. Your mind can’t help but draw on the memories of Taehyung's feeding, but this instance is different, with you in control, and the one who requires blood is not a monster but your past saviour, and love.

You empty his bags on the desk provided in the room. Making one last effort to look for any additional store of blood that might have remained unpolluted. Finding nothing but clothes, and basic supplies, until the roll of surgical instruments hits the wooden surface with a dull thud. Left with no other option but the tools before you, you grow more determined to push down the horrors of your past. Doing it for the sake of Yoongi, and the returning portion of you who adores him so adamantly.

Freeing one of the knives, you take a deep breath, and slice along the partially opened scar on your hand. The pain takes control for a moment, forcing your jaw to clench and your breath to seethe between your teeth, as the sight of scarlet turns your stomach. But seeing Yoongi suffering brings your mind back to focus as the blood wells to the surface, creating a thick pool in your palm. You go to him and straddle his form taking his chin in one hand to open his mouth. You clench your ruby drenched fist and tilt it over him. The first drip hits Yoongi’s lip, the second entering his mouth. His eyes fly open, and a snarl leaves his throat. Reaching out he grabs your hand, not to draw it closer but to push it back towards you.

“You’ve spilled enough of your blood for my kind.” He whispers, his ache evident in the hoarseness of his tone.

“Seokjin said you needed it. Will you just take it.”

“No! I have no wish to become the next monster who haunts your dreams.”

“You won’t, I remember now. From my first time meeting you, all the way up to our parting. You did so much for me and my family. You were right in saying those you feed off of were not your victims, I saw how they suffered from illness and injury.” Your voice starts to quake as you force it all out, confining his depth of importance to you to a few small statements is no easy task. “I understand why you feared your influence over me in the past. But please, know now, I do not consider myself a casualty of yours. I give you my blood of my own free will.”

You offer your hand once again but Yoongi doesn’t move his narrow gaze giving the impression that his decision is final. “Very well.” You counter, as you cup your hand with your own, pressing down on the wound as you consider the already escaped blood. “It seems a shame to waste it though. Maybe your friend Seokjin will take it, he appeared to be interested.” You play your bluff, hoping to gain a rise out of him the way Seokjin claimed Namjoon.

Shifting your weight, you ready to leave, but Yoongi moves faster, pulling you down to lay beneath him. “Why must you be so stubborn?” He mutters as he places one hand gently over your eyes obstructing your view of him. “Please, if I am to do this don’t look. I don’t want you to remember me by this act.” His other hand takes your blood soaked palm in his grip before he finally presses his lips to the dripping wound.

The tug of his mouth on your skin is gentle lasting only for a few seconds. His tongue then starts to drift down the scarlet trails that lead across your fingers, licking every inch of your skin clean. His touch is soft and attentive, you find yourself enjoying his caress, forgetting entirely the purpose of his actions. But it’s soon brought to an end when a soft scrape of his fangs crosses your knuckles, with your immediate instinct to flinch, it incites him to draw back and apologize.

He removes himself from your hand, and turns to draw his own blood. When he goes to press it to your laceration he hesitates and gives you his assurance. “This will only heal it. Do you trust me to do that?”

You nod with a deep breath and clenched teeth, dreading this part most, you look away until the tingling sensation of the skin's repair stops. When your gaze returns to the spot you find it without flaw, for his blood had also erased the scar of Taehyung. Tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes .

Yoongi wipes at the edge of his mouth taking away the dark remnants of your blood. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, quite the opposite. Thank you for taking it away.”

“I’m sorry you had to bear his marks for so long.” His lips kiss the newly healed skin of your hand before he lays down on the bed next to you. As much as he tries to hide it you can see that he’s still weary from the silver. Your fingers trace down the slowly fading burn of his throat, a rumble of contentment flowing from it as his eyes close.

Embracing the softness of the bed you were promised earlier, and far too weary to change out of your damp clothes you join him in sleep.

...

You rest for only a few hours with the sun starting to break across the horizon, shocked but grateful that no appearance of Taehyung brought halt to your peaceful slumber. Rising to close the shutters to the light, you leave Yoongi to his sleep.

You open the door a slight amount, checking to see if anyone else is about, when you find a form of kindness you had not expected on the floor in front of your room. It would seem that Namjoon must have brought food while you slept, a small collection of bread, cured meat, and fruit awaits you along with the clothes he promised. Though your current outfit is now dry, you take the fresh garments inside for a later change before you depart in the evening. The food however, barely lasts a few minutes in your presence. For you indulge hastily on the wonderful meal as you sit at the rather cluttered desk.

Naturally, the mess you made earlier in the night still remains, the contents of Yoongi bags strewn over the desk and floor. Once finished with your plate, you start to pack the clothes and supplies all away again until there are only a few items left, including a piece of folded parchment lying in the corner. You flatten it out across the surface of the workspace, reuniting yourself with Yoongi’s map.

Of course, it wasn’t always his. No, this was the map that you had made from the fragments and pages he recorded. It was intended to be a gift for him upon his return after those long six months apart. Every stroke of the pen, every hour, and every drop of ink which bled into this creation brought you so much joy. But you also remember the sorrow that led to the error, the blotch left while trying to conceal the map before the ink had set.

...

-5 years ago-

It has been seven months since Yoongi’s departure, with no whisper or hint to his whereabouts. The blood supply he had given you was fully consumed in the past fortnight. You assure your lady’s maid, whom you imparted with the knowledge of the cure, that your friend will return soon. But still you wait for him, while putting the finishing touches to the map in the form of an ornate compass rose.

With the final mark of ink in place, your mother bursts into your room, consumed by a wealth of tears. You fold the map in haste, and tuck it under a book. Thankful that she is too distraught to realize that you should be in bed and not at your desk, but the news she shares gives grave reason to her oversight. Your brother had fallen from his own earlier in the night, causing a lesion to the back of his head. Without the aid of your vampire, you know it to be a likely death sentence.

Come near dawn, you wait in the hidden passage, praying for Yoongi to show. But when the sun comes to rise without his presence, you can only hope that your brother will survive this day without the medicine he’s grown so dependent on. However, as night falls, his health worsens, and the physicians resort to bleeding him again. You try to stop them, but that only results in you being banished from his room.

With no other options left, in the late hours of night, you don another of your maid’s old dresses, tugging it out from your hiding spot, and replacing it with the finished map which now bears an unfortunate scar. Taking your usual path you escape to the town of your kingdom. Your plan, to pace every street until you find him, or another who might know of his whereabouts.

...

Your memory fails to pass the darkened cobblestone roads which frame your search. Leaving you to conclude that was when you were found by your capture of these past five years. Yoongi was right, the open night is dangerous for one such as yourself, even so he left you with little choice, he broke his promise first.

There’s a creak from the bed behind you, but you keep your focus forward on the map, still trying to piece it all together. Until two hands wrap around your waist and Yoongi’s chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

“You said you would come back.” You remain still in his arms, scolding the vampire with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Why didn’t you return to me as promised.”

Yoongi turns you around to face him, raising your chin with his finger. “You remember our arrangement?” You nod your response, refusing to meet his gaze, until he lowers his own head in disappointment. “There were... difficulties. I know it does not excuse my broken oath in full, but I was prevented from going to you.” He sits you back down in the desk chair and kneels before you, taking your hand in his. “Taehyung had found the hunters we were attempting to embed in his ranks. He dealt us a swift blow with their deaths, and then sent his men east, towards our fortress, and your kingdom. The keepers, such as myself, were ordered by our own lord to remain within the walls of our residences, out of concern that we might be captured and lured into giving Taehyung's clan access.”

“Then you should have sent word of your delay!” You cut in, had you known this you never would have left to find him.

“I did. I wrote a letter and sent it by raven, telling you to stay within the castle walls no matter what. That it was far too dangerous for you on the outside, and my return would be a longer wait. But I received no reply. I thought then that you did not want to hear from me, that you had chosen a different path. It was weeks before my raven returned badly injured. I feared then that my warning might have gone astray.” He sighs, as continues to recount the dark narrative. “I couldn’t remain a willing captive of my own home when I know you might be in danger. So I renounced my title, I gave away my claim and access to the stronghold. Lowering myself to the status of clan hunter so I could leave and find you. But I was too late, you were already gone and well beyond my reach. I searched your room looking for any clues as to how you ended up in his hands. I found no dress, and only that in your drawer.” He nods over to the map.

“I have spent the past five years trying to correct my mistake of not going to you sooner, for not leaving with you when you asked. But when I found you again, without your memories, I had no way of knowing the choices you made or any feelings you had previous to your captivity. I kept our past from you so as to not impact your previous decisions with my own desires. If you thought me to be a monster who groomed you for my own needs, I would back away. If you were just catering to me to save the life of your brother, I wanted you to be free of that.” His hand comes to the side of your face, with a finger dotting at a tear that had fallen from the corner of your eye. “I’m aware I don't deserve it, but please I must know. What was your decision before I let you down so horrifically, what was it that led you to be in his custody?”

“I never felt pushed to stay by you because of my brother's condition. I had no wish to marry nor leave with another, it was never simply about journeying outside the castle for an adventure. I wanted to be with you. Those six months we spent apart only confirmed what I did not wish to tell you out of worry you might dismiss those feelings too. I loved you, and still do.”

Yoongi chokes out a wavering sigh of relief, lowering your head by his hand, he presses his forehead to yours. “And I you, your highness. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I just didn’t want to unknowingly imprison you by my side with-without-”

“I know.” You whisper back. “You were right to be concerned, I was young and sheltered. I do not blame you for what happened. When the blood ran out, I could wait no longer. I had to find you. I went into the town but that is the last I remember.”

“And there you were taken.” Yoongi pulls back pausing as he bites his lip. “Now that you remember. Has your desire to return home changed?”

“I-I don’t think it can Yoongi. I still have so many gaps in my past. I hope that my return will mend that, as my time with you has brought light to our own history. Despite that, even if I was whole, the loss of my brother, it-it complicates things.”

“Your kingdom needs you to have an heir, a son to maintain the line of the crown.” He swallows glumly, as you reach out to clutch his hand. “Something that I cannot give you.”

“When my duty was just for the sake of pleasantries between kingdoms I could find it within reason to leave, but now, the kingdom’s people, the ones you’ve helped to save are at stake.”

Yoongi gives you a solemn nod. “At least now you can be certain you will not be sent away.”

“Once I return home...” You pull back, folding your hands on your lap, fidgeting while you ask the next important question of him. “Will you plan to stay nearby like before? You will not leave me alone again will you?”

“I must. With my lower position now, I will likely be sent back into Taehyung’s land again. Though I will be glad of it, for I can not stay still while he is still hunting, and risk you falling prey to him again. And for the sake of our attachment I feel that our parting would be easier on the both of us. Especially since it will not be long before you are asked to-”

“Marry?” You let out a deep breath of air in an attempt to dispel the building weight in your chest. Is he right to think that upon your return you’ll be bound to another so soon? You hope that there would be time to find yourself again, to re-educate your mind into what it was before. But how long will that take and how patient will your parents be without the line of succession secured. You can only hope any man who is chosen will be... will be, “Though I wish it to be you who remains by my side, if my future husband has half the character of you I should be so lucky.”

“Do not say that.” His voice cracks with his hushed plea.

“Why not?”

He stands up before you, pulling you from your seat, and tucking you into his chest. He holds you there while with one hand to your back, and the fingers of the other rooting amongst your hair. He breathes in deeply, whispering the challenges to his choice. “Because it’ll make leaving you so much harder. You made my cursed existence not only bearable, but desirable. When I consider the possibility of spending my life, with the one who gave me purpose, who saw me not as a monster but as a salvation, who I came to love more than I thought possible.” Yoongi lifts your head again, directing you to look up at him. “An eternity with you, is the greatest temptation of all.”

You reach up to take his face in your hands, delivering a solemn kiss to his lips before pulling away.“If we can not have eternity, what of one moment within it? One final memory together to help us through the time we must spend apart. Can you give me that? Can you give me yourself?”

Yoongi’s mouth comes down to you in search of another, the wave of passion in his approach is so much stronger and forceful than your own. His tongue, endeavouring to taste you in a far different manner than hours ago. “You already have me, my blood, my life, my love, it’s all yours.”

He picks you up and returns you to the bed with him, tugging off his oversized shirt, while you remove your own. His mouth seeks out your neck, your collarbone, and downward soon finding the peaks of your chest. He’s soft and careful not to leave a mark as his lips tug gently on your skin. With each graze of his tongue he insights an inadvertent reaction from you, in the form of a moan or twitch. As your fingers tangle in his locks, his eyes gazing up to look for your expression. “Are you sure you wish to continue?”

You lower your hand to his face, dragging your fingers across his cheek and lips. “Yes, I can’t tell you how much I desire a memory like this.”

He stands to remove your pants before lowering back down to hover over you on his hands and knees, straddling you as you lay on the feathered mattress. His fingers trail down the side of your chest, your waist, you hip, before moving inward to reach between your folds. You inhale with the first touch of his fingers to your slit. As his index starts to stroke from the inside, his thumb circles your clit. Forcing you to groan into his mouth which comes down again to cover yours.

Once he appears satisfied with the wetness pooling around his digits. He pulls out and takes his finger to his mouth with a hungry moan. Cursing as it slips out from his lips.

Your face heats up, embarrassed by his reaction. “Surely you are making too much fuss over it.”

“You think I don’t find you enjoyable? That I can’t see, feel or taste how divine you are?”

You grin, taking pleasure words despite their boastful nature. “Divine? No, you are just too kind to say otherwise.”

“Then allow me to prove you wrong.” Yoongi smirks, adjusting to take his place between your legs.

“What do you intend to-” He answers your question before you can finish, his mouth latching firmly onto your cunt. Your words lost as he takes in a long draft, his tongue playing along darts inside of you before shifting up to tease your most sensitive spot. When paired with his fingers, which once again come to stretch your inside, you do not stand more than a minute before biting the pillow to muffle your scream. Drenching his mouth and hands with your cum.

“As I said divine.” Yoongi grins as he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your fluids. After leaving you with no energy to debate his notion you can only nod and accept his truth. He cleans his fingers once again with his tongue, before sending them to undo the laces of his trousers.

When his cock slips free he takes your hand, guiding it along to stroke his shaft. His head falls back in pleasure, giving you the confidence to grow bolder. You sit up to meet him pulling his length down to glide along the outside of your folds and become wet with your slick.

You find to his mouth again with a kiss as he throbs against the inside of your legs and mound. “You are sure of this then?” He asks one last time.

“I am.” You promise looking into his eyes as he leans you back and guides his cock past your folds. The air in your throat catches, and your eyes flutter as you adapt to the sensation of him inside you.

The back of his fingers brushing at your cheek before folding out to cup your face. “Still with me?”

You nod back, pushing your lips to his upper chest and shoulder as you adjust to him. Yoongi lowers you back down to the bed, cradling your form as you descend. Finally cocooning you in a close embrace, with his nose buried in the nape of your neck.

His cock swells, and you arch your back in response, meeting his chest with yours. With his arm tucked around, he keeps you in that position. Dragging his hips away and towards, his thrusts come slow as your arousal coats his shaft. Every push becomes easier for you to take, but it would seem it’s harder for him to hold on. His forehead comes to rest on your shoulder a rasping grunt, as he remains inside. He changes tactics and turns to tend to your neck instead, slowing his pace to a halt, as he kisses the marked spot.

You take note of a low growl emitting from him as he continues to lavish the spot. He must hate it as much as you, his failure to come to you in time on display before him. But you know no amount of simple affection will remove the spot from view.

“Yoongi?” You ask in concern as his disdainful rumbles grow louder. Adjusting your head to get a glimpse of his pained face, you find a dampness forming in the duct of his eye. “Yoongi, is it-”

“I hate how he continues to mark you. It shouldn’t be here between us.”

“Then take it.” You suggest, for you like him are unable to tolerate it any longer.

He looks fearful of what you ask, his eyes wide as he explains, “I’ll need to break the skin.”

“Then do it. Please, help rid me of this too.” You tuck his head back down so his lips come to rest against your neck. No longer fearing such an act with him, not after the gentleness he showed you before.

His mouth opens with his teeth dragging across the scar. There’s a brief prick of pain before the spot is soothed by his lips. Yoongi’s groans of satisfaction start to encourage and blend with your own, his arms continuing to embrace you and coddle you.

With his still mouth fixed to your neck, you feel as his tongue turns beneath his teeth, and with a swift bite he laps his own blood on to the fresh wound. The lingering pain soon falls away as the skin heals. Your head swims in a state between dizziness and pleasure, a sense of euphoria takes over.

You place your hands on his hips wanting him to resume, craving more of his pleasure. And so the thrusts return with Yoongi’s hand pressed to the small of your back, ensuring that your clit grinds against him as he pushes deeper. He dives into you to the point where you can hear the dull thump of the bed frame against the wall. You wish you could hold on longer, you wish you didn’t have to let go, you find yourself whispering Yoongi’s name repeatedly as if it might change that. Only to be left stuttering between breaths as you claim your last climax.

He pulls out after his own release, hovering as he smiles down on the sight of you, and your legs wrapped around his thighs. After taking a moment to collect himself he goes to grab the washing dish and jug of water, dipping the supplied towel he proceeds to take care of what he left behind. You attempt to claim the cloth from him, as he lingers between your thighs, but he insists on being though. With a grin tugging at his lip each time the towel passes over your sensitive flesh and causes you to twitch.

“I will not forget this, not ever.” Yoongi whispers once finished, as he takes to your side covering you over with the blanket.

You nod in agreement, brushing the hair from his face. “When it is all done, I want you to come back to me. I don’t care how long, I have to see you again.”

“I-I will try, but I cannot promise I will survive this task. If my demise will allow me to stand between you and him then I will gladly become that barrier.” You gasp ready to argue against such a sacrifice, but one tap of his finger to your lip stops your conflict in its place, allowing him to finish. “Rest now. Think not of what we can’t change.”

You curl into Yoongi trying to do as he suggests. Though just as you get comfortable there’s an unexpected tap on the shutters of your room, a circumstance made even more surprising when you remember yourself to be on the second floor of the house. Your vampire rises, careful to open the window so no light shines on him. Allowing a raven to make its way inside.

Yoongi is quick to free it of a rolled letter attached to its foot before releasing the bird and blocking out the window behind it. As his eyes scan the paper, his brow furrows and his hand clenches the parchment to the point where it starts to crackle in his grip. He proceeds to throw back on his clothes, not even bothering to change out his torn shirt, while keeping the letter clutched in his hand.

“Yoongi, is something-”

“I need to talk to Seokjin. Stay here.” He growls bursting out the door in a formidable rage, slamming it behind him. You give time for him to descend the steps before crawling from your bed wrapped in the sheet and leaning your ear to the solid wood that bars you from the hall, but nothing can be heard through the thick barrier.

You can not help but fear what might be wrong for Yoongi to react in such a way. Going against his command you throw the clothes Namjoon left you and ready to exit your room. Carefully pulling on the latch of the door so as to not make a sound. You ease through the smallest crack you can muster before settling at top of the stairs, hidden from the view of the floor below. The voice of the vampires trailing up from the main room.

“You have her smell all over you, lucky bastard,” Seokjin groans. “How did she taste?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer the question, posing his own instead, with a rustle of parchment and a loud thump on the table. “How long, how long have you known of this?”

“Yoongi-” Seokjin responds, the uncertainty of his tone is a jarring contrast from your own previous interaction with him.

“Answer me Seokjin!”

“I couldn’t tell you, you gave up your position, because of her. You know there is information we must keep from the hunters in case it falls into the wrong hands. I’ve known this to be the truth since you first went to recover her from Taehyung. We all knew it was your primary goal to retrieve her, but I wasn’t allowed to say anything that might cause a change in course from you. If you had known you would not have led her this way.”

“So you kept me in the dark? All these years?” Yoongi seethes. “I promised I would take her home! And you're just now sharing with me that I can’t? You didn’t care if I knew the whole truth, just as long as in the end I brought her closer to the clan’s reach?”

“We can keep her safe.”

“No, she deserves her life away from us. She has been tortured enough Seokjin. How am I supposed to tell her this? She was just starting to recover, to remember her past, and to trust me again, but this... it will break her. She won’t accept this new fate if this is your only solution.”

“Then don’t tell her, don’t give her a chance to refuse. She accepted your blood, did she not? Use it to send her off to sleep and don’t wake her again until she’s resting comfortably behind the clan’s walls. You can return to your old life, Hoseok will grant you your title back if you do this, I’m sure of it. You can be the high keeper again, with your princess safe by your side.”

There’s a loud clamour and groan, prompting you to peak just around the edge to witness the struggle. There on the table, Yoongi has pinned Seokjin, his fingers wrapped around the vampire's neck.

Seokjin doesn’t appear to be too put off despite his situation, choosing instead to give advice to the one who has him by the throat. “You’re immortal Yoongi, she is not, you need to remember that. Her sadness will be only temporary if she chooses to hold it against you, but if you go against us now you will be alone, without a clan for eternity.”

Yoongi stands there in silence, no more refusals, no more rebuttals. Instead of continuing to argue on your behalf, he nods and lets Seokjin up from the table. His fellow vampire claps him on the shoulder and mutters, “You’ve made the right choice old friend. Hoseok will be pleased to have you back in the clan’s coven.”

While they embrace every part of you is lit ablaze with pain and anger. You both had been played, but he... he acquiesced to his puppeteer, and plans to string you up too. There’s nothing that could willingly compel you to take shelter in a castle full of vampires again... with Yoongi by your side though? You consider the notion for a fraction of a second before a resounding ‘no’ takes hold. Your younger self might have gone, and willingly so, but now the cost to you and your people is far too great.

With the growing list of broken promises, how long before the vow of safety fractures for the sake of his clan too? What is there to stop the situation from evolving into your own past with Taehyung? You can not, you will not endure that kind of life again.

With your only option being to run, your head concocts a plan to flee. Creeping back to the bedroom you crack the window open, and glance over the edge, thankful to see that there are several crates stacked close enough for you to reach with your feet. If you’re lucky Yoongi will stay downstairs for some time and have no reason to believe you’ve flown from his side. Fitting a spare cloak you escape out the window taking the map with you. Climbing down you flee towards the stables out back.

There you find the horse without a proper name, another painful reminder of Yoongi’s promises, and inability to return. Forcing you to recognize the constant pull between you and his clan. Your heart is left broken down the line of betrayal and understanding, for how can you entirely fault him when you yourself are determined to return to your own kingdom at the expense of his happiness. In the end the both of you are left to suffer the pain of duty over love.

Not wanting to journey with such a bitter token of the past, you choose the other smaller stead stolen from the hunters instead. Mounting the horse, you ride off into the noonday sun, eager to make it home before he or his kind have the ability to alter your course.

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