#he really should have told them about the heartbeat and breathing thing

[cherryredcheol]

two boyfies

tldr: do you actually have two boyfriends like jeonghan said? and why doesn't cheol know? a/n: god, the way i feel about this man should be criminal... references to: drinking and a brief mention of sex

the latest episode of your drama had just finished when seungcheol walked through the door. he was right on time, just like he said he’d be. you were so delighted to see him, running to the door before he could even get both his shoes off, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. 

“missed you,” you tried to convey the sweet message to him but the words came out muffled because of how your face was buried in his chest. 

he understood you nonetheless, he always did, “missed you too, baby.” he pulled you impossibly closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in your soft scent as he did so.

you two stayed like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other after a long day apart: him doing his schedules, you going to work. although you lived together now, it never felt like you’d get enough time with seungcheol. you’re not sure how you survived the days of living separately. 

“baby” he spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peace in the apartment.

“hmm?” you hummed at him, acknowledging that you heard him but making no real attempt to remove yourself from him. 

you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke, “hannie told me something crazy today and i just have to tell you.” 

this piqued your interest but not enough to get you to look at him, still content to listen to his steady heartbeat, “what?”

“he said,” seungcheol paused for dramatic effect, “that you told him you have two boyfriends.” 

you knew instantly what your (only) boyfriend was referring to. as a blush crept up your neck and onto your face you felt cheol’s chest shake with laughter, you whined and tried to bury yourself deeper into him, not wanting to face his teasing eyes yet. 

“know anything about that baby?” he asked, finally pulling back from you in an attempt to get you to look at him, a little smirk on his lips. 

your head swiveled around, looking around the apartment to find some excuse to get you out of this awkward moment created by your big mouth and your boyfriend’s best friend. 

seungcheol grabbed your chin, pulling your face to look at his, forcing your eyes to meet and in them, you saw nothing but mirth. 

your blush deepened and his smirk grew, “i asked you a question baby. don’t make me repeat myself” 

he released you and you groaned, wholly embarrassed, “cheollie, you know i only have eyes for you.” 

at this confession his smirk bloomed into a full, toothy grin. he could end it here, but he was enjoying seeing you squirm, “are you saying jeonghannie is a liar?” 

you rolled your eyes, “obviously not, he’s just not telling the whole truth.” 

“will you tell me the whole truth then?” he pouted at you, “spent the whole day thinking my baby had another boyfriend. am i not enough for you?” 

part of you wanted to walk away from him, leave the safe embrace of his arms, and rethink the offer on the tip of your tongue about making dinner. but you knew when cheol was playful like this, he wouldn’t let it go. he would keep badgering you all night to tell him what jeonghan had meant and if you really had another man besides him. 

“first of all, in my defense, i only told hannie that i had two boyfriends when i was drunk so you can’t really take my words at face value,” you were trying to rationalize it to him, make him understand the context of this situation you were about to explain to him. 

“you know what they say baby,” seungcheol continued to tease you, “drunk words are sober thoughts.” he looked so smug with his little smirk on, looking down his nose at you, nothing but completely endeared by your shyness. 

“the only thing i said to hannie was it was like i have two boyfriends. i have my seungcheollie and then s. coups.” you couldn’t even look at him as you said this, far too embarrassed by drunk you from a few weeks ago. seungcheol however couldn’t look away, somehow feeling more and more fond as the blush staining your face got impossibly deeper. 

“are they not the same, baby? both are me. how could they be different?” he was goading you on at this point. he knew what you meant, but he just wanted to hear you say it. 

“cheollie…” you whined. you knew he was just dragging this out to tease you further. 

he pulled you into his chest again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and you think you’re in the clear until you hear him murmur against your hairline, “explain it to me, baby”

you huff and whine against him, wanting to escape his hold and this embarrassment, but you know he won't let this go so you concede, dignity be damned, “its like you’re one person when its just you and i. that’s seungcheollie: all soft smiles and tight hugs. seungcheollie takes care of me in a way i never even knew i needed. he’s a lover boy” he hums and you can feel it reverberate in your chest that was tightly pressed against his. when he says nothing more, you take it as a cue to continue. “s. coups is sexy, domineering, and intimidating. he has this huge presence that’s impossible to ignore. he fucks. he’s different than just you cheollie, you know it.” 

at first, it was quiet and you thought the teasing was over. you were so embarrassed you had just admitted all of that to him, hoping he didn’t think you were a weirdo. 

then he giggles. his giggles trigger your own and suddenly you’re both holding each other, laughing in the entryway to your apartment, cheol with one shoe still on despite having gotten home a while ago. 

after the laughter subsides, he looks down at you, smiling fondly, “you’re so cute, baby. i love you so much. we both do.” 

he leans down for a kiss but you groan, pushing him away, walking towards the kitchen, intent on starting dinner but not sure if your boyfriend deserves it. 

he laughs, following behind you like a lost puppy, determined to show you how even though you feel like you have two boyfriends, you’re the only one for him. 

[gh0st-in-green-c0nverse]

burned

percy jackson x gn! reader — you’re all alone in an alley in NYC. what could go wrong??

tw — violence

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You’re cold.

You’re cold and afraid, shaking in an alley somewhere in downtown New York.

You try to think about camp. About the rolling hills, the sweet strawberries, the campfire. About your friends, about target practice, the climbing walls.

Percy should be here. He should’ve been here— you check your watch — fifteen minutes ago. But he’s not, and your thoughts are running wild.

The wind howls louder. You shut your eyes.

The wound on your leg stings. You’re coiled around it, hunched forward in a meager attempt to shield it from whatever. Meet back here in 30, you’d told him. He nodded; you drew your dagger and he lifted riptide out of its sheath. And then you went separate ways, a desperate attempt to get the monsters off your trail, to confuse them by being in two places at once. It’d worked, partially, and you would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he’s not here. So you’re not fine.

There’s a commotion at the mouth of the alley, and your head snaps up.

A woman stumbles into view, smartly dressed with long blonde hair down to her waist. She notices you, and you freeze.

“Excuse me, do you have a map? I just can’t seem to—”

“y/n, no!”

Percy’s voice echoes off the walls, and your heart drops at his audible panic.

Her smile turns from airheaded to sinister. Fangs peek over her bottom lip.

Multiple things happen at once.

You lunge forward, dagger in hand, but she grabs your wrist with a vice grip. She squeezes, and squeezes, and you’re certain she’s going to snap your wrist in half when Percy rushes in, almost runs headfirst into the brick wall.

She wrenches the knife from your hand and turns it on you. Percy lifts riptide. You stumble backwards; the tip of riptide shines through her chest.

Two blades are thrusted forward. Twin gasps of pain meet your ears.

One of them sounds suspiciously like you.

The woman dissolves, dust flaking away to reveal Percy, breathing hard. His face is bruised. It’s upsetting, even though you really should be used to it by now. You just wish he would get hurt less.

Something throbs under your ribs. It feels like a cramp, but it gets worse and worse until it burns, You’re burning—

Your knees buckle and Percy runs to you. Your head doesn’t hit the ground, so you assume he caught you.

The entire left side of you is on fire. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

The delicate skin around his eye is blooming an angry red. You reach out for it weakly, and he winces when your knuckle brushes the bruise.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly.

Percy gently grabs your hand, lowers it from his face. “I’m okay,” he soothes. “I’m right here.”

Why does he feel so far away then?

His hands move again. You’re still cold.

Your eyes flutter, tongue lead in your mouth. You realize with dim fascination that he’s cradling your face. It’d be quite intimate if your vision wasn’t darkening at the edges.

“You’re gonna be okay. They’re almost here. Just… just stay with me.”

You have so many questions. Who’s they? Why are his hands so warm?

Percy’s looking at you with a fear in his eyes that shakes you to your very bones. His eyes rake over your face as if he’ll never see you again. You still don't understand. All you know is the sinking feeling in your chest, the creeping nothing in the corners of your eyes, and the dull ache in your side.

You don't remember closing your eyes, but you do remember Percy shaking you.

“y/n,” he pleads, voice trembling in a way that you haven't heard before. “It’s alright. Just open your eyes for me, yeah? Please— please.”

He’s shivering. You feel absolutely horrible about the whole ordeal, despite your very limited understanding of the situation. You want to assure him it’ll probably be fine, that you’ll bounce back because you guys always bounce back, but this time you’re not sure.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, the words sandpaper in your throat.

The darkness swallows you whole.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lmk if I should write a part two? I dunno if anyone will read it

[mschoiyuki]

Silence

Trafalgar Law x f!reader

tw : angst. angst. angst. just angst. SFW

wc : 5.1k

a/n : Law is a foolish man. Interaction with the Straw Hat Pirates. I'm not good at writing summary, sorry ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) And I'm sorry for the grammar error. Actually I've been thinking so hard, should I make it a happy ending or not. But... Oh well...

It's best to read this while listening to :

❆ Taylor Swift - You're Losing Me (From The Vault)

❆ Bruno Mars - It Will Rain

❆ Paloma Faith - Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Enjoy ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Law used to smile to you like that.

Law used to gave lingering touch to you like that.

Law used to sits next to you like that.

Your heart used to beats faster when you were with him.

But one day, everything suddenly change. You want to ask him why, but sadly you're just his crewmate. Law is your captain. Nothing special between you.

Even though he is your captain, you will give your life for him in a heartbeat. Maybe for Law it's just a natural things to do. Yes, another crewmates will also give their life to protect their captain. What's so special with you giving your life for him too? Nothing.

One day on midnight, it's your turn to on watch. You bump to Law on the hallway. There's some sweet perfume wafts from his body. You clench your fist, greeting him with a smile, "Captain." And off you goes, not wanting to hear any responses from him.

The next week when Polar Tang docked at an island for supplies. You bump at Law again at dawn. You can see a red mark on his neck. You just smile and greets him, "Morning, Captain." And you walk away.

You walk fast to bathroom, letting out whatever it is in your stomach. Slouching on the sink, gripping your arms tightly, you cry in silent. You don't want anybody to finds out.

From that day onwards, you made up your mind. Shoving that feelings deep down, sealing it on your pandora box, throw away the key far far away.

You act like a true crewmate, no feelings attached. Every mornings you wake up, you will perfecting your smile in front of the mirror. You train the muscle really hard, you must to make it as natural as possible. So no one knows it's fake. It has to be perfect.

No eye contact. You will answer Law question short and sharp. Giving your best smile without meeting his eyes.

No lingering touches. You will keep your distance an arm length from Law. As natural as possible. Even you try to eat first or later to not sit at his side.

Week turns to month.

Until one day, you witness it with your own eyes. When you leave the bar and want to go back to Polar Tang, you see him. Your beloved captain, Trafalgar Law, walks to a motel with a woman. His hand on the woman waist.

Your body trembling. Your head dizzy. You want to let out the beers you drank out from your throat, tears are threatening to falls. You clench your fist until it's turning white.

Sachi, Penguin and Bepo walks out from the bar, want to follows you back to the sub. But they halt their steps. Following the direction of your gaze.

They knew. Knew Law been to the bar. They knew there's always a girl at his side. They've confront him about this, but he told them to shut up, Law told them to not meddle his personal life.

You take a deep breath and blinks away the tears. And you start walking back to sub.

The man that you loved for years, breaks your heart to pieces. You even haven't confess to Law. Yet you already has the answer.

Then what's the point to stay at here? Why you have to torture yourself more than this? The answer is clear. You chuckle to yourself. Why are you so foolish. You're just a crewmate. Even if you're gone they won't make a fuss.

"Let's just wait for another chance." You thought to yourself.

That night, your heart losing it beats. It's not beating faster when you think about Law anymore. When you wake up with tears stain on your pillow, you lost your voice.

Strangely you're not panicking. Because you remember you read it on a book at Chopper's library, it can due to trauma or it can be from shock that your brain or heart produce.

The others panics. The trio runs to Law, telling him about you lost your voice. Law's face darkened hearing the news. Law immediately rushing to you.

"What happened?" Law try to reach your arm, but you take a step back. Avoiding his touch.

Don't touch me with those filthy hands. Those hands that touched other women.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you smile and shrug. You write on the sketchbook "No need to panic." And you walks away from him resuming your duty.

Law just stand there, stunned. He remember this scenes long ago. Just like Cora-san when they first met. But are you really lost your voice? It can be you just faking it like Cora-san.

The trio know what Law's been thinking, Sachi breaks the silence "No, Captain. It's real."

Penguin chime in, "We already check on her, we try to prove it. It's real."

Bepo just start to panic and want to cry.

Law's minds been busy, thinking the way out to get your voice back.

But Law doesn't know about your plan.

You know Law's sleeping schedule, mostly Law will be at his office until morning. He rarely sleeps on his bed. Before dawn you slip something under his bedroom door.

While the other are busy getting ready to submerge, you walk out slowly without making any sounds to avoid bumping to other crews. Off to the fresh dawn air. Then you see a merchant ship docked at the harbor not that far, they starts to pulling their anchor.

You start to run faster to the merchant ship, after you reach them you write to them that you need a lift to another island to find your "husband". They agree to help you and they start to sail.

You look back again to the direction where the yellow sub docked behind a hill, the place that been home for you for years. The place full of happy and sad times. The place where your loved one is. The place where your heart used to beats full in love there.

You left your home. You left your family. You left the man you loved. You left your heart there.

When Law enter his bedroom, he step on something. He picks up a piece of paper and open it. His eyes widened and he start to search for you in every corner. Even your room is empty though your belongings still there. Law can't find you anywhere.

"Hakugan! How long have we been submerged?" Law slams the control room door, out of breath.

"Around six hours, Captain." Hakugan clench his heart, shock with the sudden burst and scared if he makes any mistake.

"Fuck! Turn back! Turn back to the island! NOW!" Law is furious now. How can he oversleep until this late? If only he didn’t stayed up late last night.

Sachi runs and stumbling at the door, "The letter... Captain.." Sachi tries to catch his breaths because he runs as fast as he can.

Penguin arrive behind Sachi, holding out the letter, "We found this."

Law snatch the letter and read it. It contains a simple words,

Thank you for the memories ꨄ︎

There's no doubt in it. This is your handwriting. The handwriting that Law always brush lovingly and memorize. The same handwriting on your letter that you left for him.

I loved you.

Law yell the order to Hakugan again, "Turn back to the island!" He walks back to his room, Sachi and Penguin follow behind him. When Law open his door, he rush in and slam the door right in front of Sachi and Penguin face. He doesn't need any lectures now.

He slides down from the door, sitting and read your letters again. The letter for him, I loved you. Loved. That means you don't love him anymore? Did he made a mistake? All of this is his fault? He stare hard on your letter, LOVED.

And suddenly a droplet of water stain the letter. Law choke on his own tears. He want to scream, he want to rips his hair off. But he can't. He punch the door in frustration, there a small yelp behind the door that goes unnoticed by him.

Six hours. Law prays that you're still at the island. He will take you back no matter what. If you ask him the reasons, he will tell you. He will tell you everything you want to knows. As long as it can takes you back to him. He will tell you his true feelings, his feelings toward you. He will do everything, anything. For you. He will make it right this time.

When Law arrive at the island he waste no time to cast his power. He use all of his energy to cast a big "ROOM" that envelopes the whole island. He close his eyes, he wish, he hope, he prays that you will appear in front of him. And he cast the "Shambles".

None.

Nothing.

You don't appear in front of him.

He tries, tries, and tries again.

Penguin grabs Law shoulder, "She's gone, Law. She's left. Let's go back inside."

That moment, Law feels like his heart being torn apart to pieces. It's all his fault he lose you. How could he be so foolish?

Why would he think being with another women will keep you safe? Why he didn't realize your pain? Why he didn't realize your changed attitude towards him? Your smile, your distance, no more lingering gazes and touches. Why he just realize it now?

It's too late now. He hurts you, he lose you too.

Penguin and Sachi follows Law to his bedroom. Law just sit at his bed with his hands in his face. Penguin and Sachi look at each other. Seeing their friend like this broke them too.

"Do you realize all the women you pick resembles her, Law?" Penguin break the silence.

Law still hide his face. "Their height, features, hair colors and lengths it's all resembles to her, you know." Sachi take a step forward.

"I didn't slept with all those women. I couldn't bring myself to slept with them. It never feels right, those women is not her. They can’t give me what I want likes her" Law shoulder is shaking.

Penguin kneel in front of Law, "Then why did you that, Law?"

"I just want her to be safe. You know I've got a lot of enemies. I'm so scared that I can't protect her. What if I lose her?" Law mutter, his voice is cracking.

Sachi sit next to Law, gripping his shoulder "You already lose her, Law."

Law can feel a sting in his heart, the pain almost unbearable. Being so broken Law poured all his heart out to his best friends.

"I shouldn't have let those women get close to me, let their stinky perfumes on my clothes. Gave me mark on my neck. She must've seen it. She must've knew."

"She saw you took a woman to motel, Law." Penguin sighs.

Law freeze and lift his face in horror, "What? When?"

"Night before she lost her voice." Sachi fills in.

"What? Then it's my fault she lost her voice?" Law whisper, his voice thick with sadness. Law can feel the anguish slowly engulf his heart and mind.

Sachi and Penguin wants to comfort him, saying it's not his fault. But the words just won't come out from their mouth. So they just stay there with him, watching Law stare blankly at his hand and crumble.

He will take you back, no matter what. He will travel around the New World again to find you. All he want is just for you to be safe. He prays to all the Gods for your safety, and to gives him your forgiveness.

For four months, Law lost his direction. He will only comes out from his office to give orders and then shut himself at his office. Sachi, Penguin and Bepo try their best to help Law. They will bring foods for him, dragging him to take a bath. If he force himself to sleep at his bed, he will just curls up clutching tightly on your letter praying that he will meet you on his dreams, smiling and holds him tight. He will gives you all his love for you. Hell, he even will says the three words to you. Even if it's just on his dreams. He drifts off to the dreamland with tears to meet you there.

Every times they reach an island, Law will cast the "ROOM", if there's no result he will order them to move to the next island immediately. Sachi and Penguin even beg to Law to stay for a couple days at the island to get some supplies and rest before resuming their journey. They understand Law impatience, but they still try to persuade him.

They think Law is just like a ghost now, losing half of his soul. The only thing that can cure him is you. They also prays every times they reach an island, hoping you are there. To end Law misery. They really want to tell him to give up, but they got tongue tied every times they see his face.

The first month after you left Law, you stay at the island for awhile to collect some berries for your next journey. Sometimes you will help the local doctor, or working at the diner as cook.

When the berries is more than enough, you will move to another island. Maybe you runs away from him, if you stay at the island longer you afraid you will meet him. Heh. There's no way he will looks for you. Who the hell are you? You're not that important to him. You're just a crewmate. Stop thinking so high and mighty about yourself, Y/N. You chuckles and shake your head in disbelief.

The second months, you meet the Sun God. The person you least expected to meet.

Luffy is so happy to meet you again after years. He wraps his arm around you, "Does this mean Torao also here with you? I want to meet him! I miss him!" Luffy chirps.

You just give him a sheepish smile, and you write, "No, I'm alone. I'm no longer Heart Pirates crew."

Luffy just stare and tilt his head, confuse why are you using that sketch book, and you explain to him that you lost your voice. Luffy then drags you to Sunny, "Chopper can help you! Let's go!"

You try to let out your voice, to tell him no but the voice is not coming out. You just let him take you to Sunny.

The other crews are so happy to meet you again. Nami, Robin and Chopper embrace you so tightly. They rush you to the infirmary to check your health. They are so shocks hearing Luffy's information that you lost your voice and no longer Law's crew. As you try to calm them down, "It's okay, it's not a big deal. I'm still strong even without my voice." You give them weak smile while show them the sketch book.

Nami and Robin knows there's more into it. They exchange glances and hugs you, Nami gives you pat on your head while Robin stroke your back. As if they know your real reason. As if they know your pain, your heartbreak. Chopper just hugging you too without knowing why.

For the first time after two months, you cry your heart out. Sobbing in their embrace. You want to let out all of your screams that you've been hold back for months. But you can't. There's no voice coming out. You cry until your throat is hoarse and dry, and fall asleep on their embrace.

The next morning you wake up with swollen eyes. Sanji rushing to get ice packs for you, "A beautiful lady like you mustn't cry, Y/N-chan. Tell me if there's something you crave, I will cook it for you in no time." And he kiss the back of your hand. Nami warned to the other crews to not mention Law's name. It's a forbidden word at Sunny, whoever utter that word must pay a huge amount of berries to her.

"Eeh. Whyyy?? Why can't I say Torao name? I want to ask her about how he's been doing." Luffy whine to Nami. Nami grab Luffy's collar and threaten him, "If you says his name one more time, you won't get allowance for a month. I dare you." Luffy zips his mouth tightly.

"Just stay with us, we won't say anything to him." Luffy sincerely say it while all of them gathering waiting for lunch. You can feels the tears are forming at the corner of your eyes, you mouthed "Thank you." and try to blinks away the tears.

Even though you're not sad anymore, the crews know you changed. You're not the same person as they met back ago when the alliance with Law's formed. Your smile is not the same, you're not the cheerful person like back then. What had happened between you and the Heart Pirates Captain?

One day when you, Nami and Robin enjoying Sanji's dessert at the deck, she can't help her curiosity so she cautiously ask you, "Did both of you broke up?" You put your spoon on your lips and write "We're not together. We're just crewmate and captain." Nami and Robin stunned with your words. Nami try to pushed again but Robin pinch her with her extra hand. They just don't understand why both of you are not together. They saw how Law gazed at you. How Law always following close behind you every where you goes, like a lost cat. But they didn't push further, maybe you're not ready to tell them yet.

Days by days pass peacefully, some part of you think maybe it's not that bad you get on board with Luffy. It's almost makes you forget about your pain. You can saves more berries, maybe someday you can settle down at some island and enjoying the domestics life.

Some days, you help Sanji with preparing foods or wash the dishes. Other times you watch Luffy antics. There's no days pass without fun on Sunny.

Until one day, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Brook and Franky make a fuss with the sea king monster. In such a chaotic mess, Nami hit their head until two lumps appear at each heads. And she yell at them, they just lowered their head until a soft breeze blows and Luffy raises his head to hold his precious straw hat, "Oh! Y/N is laughing!" The others snaps their head to you, seeing you laugh for the first time. The real and genuine laugh.

Nami and Robin jumps at you and hug you. The others also laugh, Sanji's heart eyes appear at the sight, and there's a slight tinted blush at Zoro face, and he smile. Even though they can't hear your sweet voice, at least you're laughing now. They just hope you will turns to the old you.

They never thought of you as a guest at Sunny, they treat you like their nakama. When you're down, they will try to cheer you up. Zoro sometimes offer you to clean your katana, or even training together. The girls watching Zoro's behavior and it's so strange for him to interact with someone on his accord.

Nami pulls him and threaten him, "What're you doing? What's your intention, Zoro?"

He deadpanned on Nami, "Nothing, just offer her some companion?".

Nami point her finger, "If your intention is not clear, or you just need someone to warm your bed you better back off."

Zoro takes a step closer and gives Nami a stern look, "I'm. Not." Zoro growls. Maybe he just pitied you, or maybe he just want to take care of you, or maybe he just want to protect you. He doesn't know himself why.

As months goes by, you're getting a little bit cheerful like the old days. And you even gets closer to the crews.

When Luffy see an island holding a festival he decide to dock. Before Luffy and Chopper can scurry off to the town, Nami hold them and tell Luffy to bring one or two crews with him. To watch over him to not cause any ruckus.

Zoro voluntary says he will go with Luffy making the others screech. Nami turns to you "Y/N, can you please go with them? Me and Robin will go later and catch up with you guys." You nods and go to change your outfit. Wearing white shirt with a short and sandals. You run off to Luffy and the others whose been excited to enjoy the festival, “Let’s go!!” Nami shouts from the back, “Zoro!! Please don’t get lost! I’m counting on you, Y/N! Have fun!!” Zoro just rolls his eye at Nami and you giggle while wrapping your hand to his arm. Zoro jolt at your sudden touch and eyeing you, you mouthed “So you don’t get lost.” You grin and lead the way. Zoro just huff and shake his head, hiding the subtle smile.

Tagging along with Luffy that want to eats all of the foods on every stalls, and Chopper want to try all the attractions makes your heart full. “Look! That roller coaster is so cool! Let’s try it!” Chopper shouts and excitedly point at it. “I’m gonna pass on this one. To tired. I will wait for you guys down here.” Zoro already sits on the bench and cross his arms.

You feel bad leaving him behind and want to stay too, but Zoro just shoo you to go with them, “Just go, it’s okay. It won’t take that long.”

Then you go with Luffy and Chopper to enjoy the roller coaster. But when you guys come back down, all of you are drenched. You guys just laugh while Zoro dumbfounded looking at you guys. Zoro put his cloak on your shoulders, “Your shirt become a see-through.” As he looks away from your body. Your face flushed and mouthed “Thanks.”

As you guys walking back to Sunny with hands full with foods, there’s two people looking at you from afar with their jaws dropping. They can’t believe their own eyes. They exchange glances to make sure it is really you.

“Should we call Captain?” Sachi already takes out the mini den den mushi.

“Ugh.. Wait! But look at her! She’s laughing! She’s happy, Sachi!” Penguin grab Sachi hand.

“Guys! It’s-!” Bepo suddenly appears and shout but Sachi and Penguin quickly shuts his mouth.

“Sshh!!!” They gesture in unison.

“Should we call Captain??” Sachi press again.

Penguin is still in agony. “Peng! Captain needs her!” Sachi getting impatient now because he almost lost you on the crowds.

"Fine!! Fine! Call him." Penguin surrender, still unsure if this is the right things or not. Because he also knows you are suffering from Law.

When the news reach Law, he immediately teleport to the shore. He use his power to teleports here and there, to find the Sunny.

And he sees you, draped in Zoro's cloak, your hand grabs on his arm. And you laugh. You laugh with them. The smiles that he missed so much, the smiles that you used to gave to him. You looks... Beautiful. You looks... Happy... Are you with Zoro now? He can feels his heart clench. He will finds out himself.

This time, he will make it right.

Suddenly you see a blue orbs envelopes all of you. You freeze, gripping Zoro's arm. You know damn well this blue orbs. And he appears in front of you. The man that you loved with all of your heart. He looks like a mess. His eye bags getting more darker.

Law so relieve when he see you this close. Finally... He can take you back with him, he moves his hand to reach you but Zoro take a step in front of you and stand between you and Law.

"Move, Zoro-ya." Law stand tall against Zoro.

But Zoro doesn't move an inch, and you still clutching on Zoro hiding behind him. When Luffy and Chopper see Law, they excitedly shouts, "OOH! TORAOO!!" But Zoro prevent them to get close to Law.

"What do you want, Torao?" Zoro still in his defensive stance.

"I don't have any business with you. I'm here for Y/N." Law still looking at you. "Let's talk, Y/N. Please." He's pleading now, you never hear his voice this soft. You still consider should you talk to him? Part of you don't want to talk to him, you don't want to see his face. But maybe this is the time...

You come out from behind Zoro and you nod. You point to a big stone under the shade and you gesture to him to follow you there. You write to Luffy, "I'll be back."

You and Law walk to the shade, you lean on the stone and write, "What do you want?" You shove it to him, but you didn't look at him at all.

Law furrow his eyebrows. It hurts. "How you've been, Y/N?" He reach for your face but you avoid it. It hurts so bad. He clench his fist and take it back to his side. "Please, look at me, Y/N." His voice cracking.

You freeze and slowly turn your head to meet his gaze. There they are, the grey eyes that you used to loved is filled with tears now. But it makes you furious and without you realizing it you hit his chest with your both fist. Law lets you hit him, if it can makes you feel better then it doesn't matter. If it can makes you back to his side, then it's fine. He will take it all, your furious, your hits. Everything.

Your head hung low while you still hitting him for God knows for how long. But Law realize you've been crying. He grabs your wrists, "Look at me, Y/N. Please." You lift your head, still sobbing. Law's eyes quiver with the sight, he pulls you right to his chest. He hug your trembling body tightly, he will not let you go.

"Please come back, Y/N" Law whisper beside your ear.

You snap your eyes open realize this is not right. You shove Law then you wipe your tears with your sleeves and write in a quick pace, "I'm not coming back. You should go back."

"Y/N, don't do this. Please come back to me." Law reach out his hand for you to take it, he looks so sorrowful. You shakes your head furiously. Law take a step toward you still reaching out his hand, "Why are you doing this, Y/N? If you love me then just come back to me." He slowly walking to you.

"I'm not! I don't love you anymore!" You write then tear the sheet and you throw it to Law. Then you write another one and throw it again. He picks it up and read it “I hate you.” Law’s eyes widened and he clutch the sheet, “Lies. You’re lying.” He stands in front of you.

“I’m not lying.” You look straight into his eyes.

“I don’t love you. And I’m not going back. Leave. Go back, Captain. I’m just one of your crew-mate, you don’t have to waste your times for me.” You starts to walk away from him.

Law grabs your wrist and turns you to face him, “I love you. I love you, Y/N. Please come back to me.” He’s crying. Trafalgar Law is crying in front of you.

You try so hard to hold back your tears. You tell yourself, don’t cry, not now. You shakes your head and yank your wrist, “It’s too late. Goodbye, Law. Take care.” You leave Law standing there in silence.

You walks back to Sunny without looking back at the man you loved. You thought you’ll be strong to leave him again for the second times, but why these tears just won’t stop? As you reach Sunny you quickly wipe your tears.

“Can we sail out now, Luffy? Please?” You write to Luffy. Luffy just nods and tells Nami to set off.

You storms to your shared bedroom and lock the door. You throw yourself to your bed and cry your heart out, screaming to the pillow. The crews freeze when they heard your wailing. When they wish they can hear your voice again, they don’t mean it like this. Not your voice when you’re in pain. They just stand at the deck looking at each other, they can feel your pain. But they can't do anything to erase your pain.

Law walks back to Polar Tang in tears with your sketch sheets in his hand, it feels like he reminisces the old days. The days he cried when Cora-san died. You left him too. If only he could be more honest with you. If only he didn’t act like a jerk. If only he didn’t hurt you. None of these will happen. If only…

When the crews see Law coming back alone they don’t utters a single words to him. He just walks to his bedroom in silence, only the trio follows Law. Law slumps to his bed, covering his eyes with his arm, the other hand still holding on your sketch sheets tightly at his chest. Penguin being the brave one to break the silence, “Is she?” Law answers short, “No.”

Sachi continue, “Do you tell her everything?”

“It’s too late. She hates me. She doesn’t love me anymore. She left me.” Law curls up holding your sheets tightly.

Law can't get you return to his side again. He can't have your heart forever. He can't see you anymore. He can't hear your sweet voice anymore. At least he want to hear your voice before you go.

Law doesn't know you get your voice back again.

Law summon "ROOM", the blue orb surrounds him and he cast "SILENCE".

For the first time Sachi, Penguin and Bepo see their Captain crying in despair. They just hope their captain can get on his feet again.

It's too late now...

Is it too late now?

This is the end...

Is this the end?

Part 2

dividers by : @saradika-graphics

[atzfilm]

— from eden; (m) part one

there's something wretched about this. something so precious about this, oh what a sin

— yeosang/f.reader, seonghwa/f.reader

— vampire!au, angst, smut (15.3k)

— you never thought you'd fall for your best friend. and yet there you were, stumbling upon him in a lover's embrace. heartbroken, you escape to a quiet bar not far from where you work. a man with a pretty mark on his face distracts you.

— content; mxm content, cussing, blood, blood drinking (it's painful, not sexy 😭) heartache, injuries, anxiety, death, violence, slightly descriptive murder (?), attempted assault (nothing happens aside from brief arm touch), insults, smut: unprotected sex, mention of threesome

part two (finale)

you never lived in the moment, never think about how the rain falls, how the streetlights seemingly has an otherworldly feeling to them. you're sure that many of us never do; so deeply involved in our own lives that we never second guess, never take a pause to truly see our surroundings. to hold in a breath and just take that second to stand, to look. you were one of them, until you met him. he's ordinary in every sense of the word. quiet, calm, brown eyes soft in their gaze, lips plush, reddening around the spot he bites into. he is so irrevocably ordinary that it makes no sense as to why you feel like this. park seonghwa should not be making you feel like this.

you sit on the opposite bench from said man, coffee lukewarm as you grip the reusable plastic, desperately trying to look anywhere but directly in front of you. should you feel this way? he's always been the one man you can count on, the one man who never hesitated to help. kindness seemed to flow through his skin as if it was his own blood. he's the opposite of you, the person you've desired to be. your lips tremble as you take in another exaggerated amount of air, eyes glued to the way his pen glides along the paper, glasses resting on the tip of his nose. you can remember the day you joined him on his exam; his eyes wide in shock when the optometrist told him his sight was worse than yours. oh how you wish you can turn back time, forget everything after that moment. somehow change things.

there are often times that you wish that you did not feel the way you felt. that your friend of four years did not make your chest ache so painfully. you hated liking someone, hated the dread, the anxiety that filled your body in every little interaction. you cross your legs, pulling a stray strand from tickling your cheek. your heartbeat fills your ears, your mouth dry.

maybe if you were able to turn back the clock – never stumbling upon him in that bathroom with san, lips pressed together, arms in a tight embrace. maybe if you were not insistent on checking up on him, things would be different. you would still only look at him as your best friend.

"surprised you haven't run over to him," your other friend slides next to you, his own coffee up to his lips. his headphones are his scarf, pale cheeks coated with a light blush. he wiggles his brows, nudging your shoulder as he continues. "traumatized just like the rest of us?"

"how so?" your brow lifts, finally shifting to him. "something new happened?"

"much of the same. san fucks another coworker, it spreads. seonghwa seems to be the victim this time, though. a bit sad, you know. he really thought they had something."

another thing you've forgotten. seonghwa told you of his own crush. choi san. everyone knows how he is, the endless list of conquests not ending anytime soon. you've warned him that san never took things like this seriously, but he refused to listen to you. insisted that it would be different. that he himself is different from the rest. there was no jealousy behind your intentions until you saw it in action. san making eye contact with you. the smirk crossing his lips. it's just something you can't get out of your head.

"i haven't spoken about it with him yet," you admit, sighing. "i should have already, it's just been so busy and–"

"and he needs his best friend," hongjoong lifts his cup, gesturing to him. "he has been knee deep in that project, distracting himself. it's been days already."

you want to say you know, but it'll only make matters worse. you aren't sure what san said to seonghwa, if he ever told him of your presence just on the other side of the door. and it scares you that he might have. there was no hiding the look you gave the two of them no matter how much you tried to hide it. envy? jealously? bitterness? in the end they are all one in the same.

"i'll talk to him."

—

you didn't. hands folded in your head in the staff library, staring at the endless shelves, a pout on your lips. you are not short by any means, but the shelves are high enough to touch the ceilings. and the one book you need rests at the very top. your eyes shift to the ladder next to you, immediately tensing. climbing up over eight feet is not on your agenda (and in fact, never was), so here you stand. anger rising.

"you could have called me."

seonghwa stands there in all his glory – black turtleneck tucked into his pressed slacks, familiar black boots covering his feet, pretty round glasses resting on top of his head. how have you not noticed how effortlessly handsome he was before? he tilts his head at you, a small smile on his lips.

"we've been over this plenty of times. can't read into that big mind of yours. gotta say it out loud." he slides the ladder as you step back, slowly ascending to the shelf you need. you don't even tell him which book it is that you want, his long fingers delicately plucking it off the shelf.

"you’ve been so involved with the project i didn't want to interrupt because of my fear," you frown. "if hongjoong or mingi came around i would've asked them."

"mingi?" he snorts. "he's as afraid of heights as you, maybe more."

"you are too and yet here you are," you gesture to him as he makes his way down. "my knight in shining armor, always."

"it's my job when it comes to you, pretty," he laughs, finally back on the floor. he's always called you pretty, but with your growing feelings it only makes you sink further into regret.

just as he's about to pass the book back to you he stops, smile slowly fading. "you think i haven't noticed your lack of appearance, birdie? it's been over a week and you've barely texted me. your hourly knocks on my office door haven't happened, at all."

this isn't the way you wanted to do this. in all honesty you didn't even mean to avoid him, but your fear of how you feel is getting to you. especially as he stands here now, worry in his eyes as he waits for you to say something. anything.

"i’m sorry about san."

his hold on the book tightens, brows furrowed. "birdie–"

"i know you're going to say that i don't need to worry or that you'll be fine. and i know i messed up not speaking about it with you until now when i know how you felt about your relationship. i've been a horrible friend, hwa. and that feeling grew inside of me to the point where i was scared to speak to you."

seonghwa looks at you, eyes flicking between yours. he swallows slowly, tucking the book beneath his arm. without another word he takes your hand, pulling you through the stacks of books, weaving in and out the rows. you see plenty of people on your way with him. if they find it strange they don't say a word about it. he opens the balcony door, guiding you through. the wind blows past the two of you, bumps rising on your arm.

the two of you often ventured out here. away from prying eyes. away from lingering gazes. some nights you would stand next to each other and let your hearts speak untainted words. after this conversation surfaces, you're not too sure how this place would be comforting anymore. seonghwa stops pacing after a moment, eyes meeting yours.

"san told me."

"what did he say?" you ask softly. you know. it would be foolish for you not to.

"y/n," seonghwa sighs. "he told me."

no.

"i mean, i just thought it was nothing. i thought you were freaked out seeing us like that but–"

no. no.

"–maybe it's more than that? is it more than that, birdie?" he stops pacing, looking to you. "am i more than that to you?"

the hollowness of your chest grows as he stands there, putting the pieces together. it was fine, everything was fine. you were okay with feeling this way for him. everything was supposed to be okay. should you lie? will it make him stop?

"i know what you're thinking. and don't," he holds up his hand, shaking his head. "don't you dare lie to me."

"we've been best friends since we were kids, hwa."

"don't do that to me." His voice cracks at the end. "please."

"san is just talking, trying to mend things over between the two of you. there's nothing more to it."

he shakes his head, "we always tell each other the truth, so i can tell when you're lying."

"we can't do this, hwa." you're not sure if he can hear your words over the wind. "i don't want to do this with you."

"so we just pretend it's nothing? i pretend that you don't like me more than a friend and you pretend that you never saw san fucking me? is that it? your bright solution?"

you hate this. it's becoming more tainted.

"seonghwa, please–"

"no," his voice rises, and he stops, tongue dragging across his lips. his words are calmer this time. "no. i waited over a week for you to come to me and say something but you didn't say a word. and i thought that you were just embarrassed, you know? i thought that was it so i decided to come see you myself. but when you looked at me, you were afraid. you looked at me with fear, birdie." the cracks are forming. "and that's when i knew. i knew that despite how much of an asshole choi is, he was not lying when he said that you were probably in love with me. just, please. how long?"

"i don't know."

"y/n–"

"i don't fucking know, seonghwa! i'm not lying. i didn't know until i saw the two of you and..." you look away from him to the city landscape. though you've always felt small, it's never been this apparent. "and i felt it. i felt it, and i didn't know how to react or what to do so i stupidly thought it was best to ignore it. hoped that it would go away."

"love does not just go away, birdie. not like that."

you look back at him, your lips growing drier as the wind gusts hit the two of you. his hands are fists, eyes flicking between yours. love does not just go away. he said that and yet why is he looking at you with everything but?

"push me away," you say. his face finally gives you some sort of emotion. brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted. "you didn't ask for this and neither did i. so tell me to go away. tell me you don't want to be friends with me anymore. tell me to leave."

"birdie–"

"tell me to fucking leave, hwa, or ill do it myself."

"go, then. just, go."

you close your eyes. "okay." there's no reason for you to look back at him, let yourself fall into a deeper hole. so you move past him, ignoring what you believe is a sob escaping his lips. you ignore it despite everything you've been through. you ignore it because you're not sure how you will ever be able to fix this.

-

sliding back into your chair, you stare at the glass on the marble top. is it your third? fourth? you told the bartender to cut you off at some point, but it all feels like a blur now. you feel a bit of the buzz, but it's still not enough to pull you away from your thoughts.

"you look broken."

"is that the pickup line you're starting with? must be a rough night."

his chuckle is surprisingly low, seeping into your ears. "not quite a pick up line, no. but you look afraid, hurt. not uncommon at bars, but yours looks different."

you still have not turned to him. "how so?"

"it looks like your world was taken away from you."

your eyes flick to him. the soft light of the bar makes his skin glow, eyes on yours. they're a deeper brown, a marking on his temple, fading into his eye. if it is a scar or a birthmark you're not too sure, but it makes his face only more interesting to look at. handsome is an understatement, the curl of his lips, lift of his brow making you look away. devilishly handsome men just seem to never leave you alone. fortunate for him though, your heart is too broken to jump into the bed of another.

so you tell him as such.

"if you're trying to fuck me just give up now. this sad, broken woman isn't going to cry into your arms."

"if i wanted that i would have gone to someone else, miss," he takes a long sip of his drink, humming. "just conversation."

"why?"

"you looked like you needed someone to talk to. but if I'm being presumptuous, tell me, i'll go away."

quiet.

"you're not far off."

"hm?"

"about my world falling apart, being taken away from me. you're not far off. my best friend found out i was in love with him and i told him to get pissed at me and leave. he never did. i was the one who ran. i was the one who ran, and yet here i am. drowning my heartbreak in whatever the fuck this drink is," you eyeball the glass next to you. "a whiskey sour, maybe?"

"you're right."

you hold your face in your hands. "and now i'm confessing my fucking woes to a stranger because i have no one else. everyone i know knows him, so they'd probably tell him what i'm doing, and he'll come over and yell at me for being irresponsible and call a taxi home for me and i'll have to pretend that i don't want him–" you stop in the middle of your rant, glancing to the side.

"i'm sorry."

he waves you off, "never apologize for your feelings. you needed to let it out. who am i to stop you?"

"just a bit shocked you haven't run yet."

he snickers this time, rolling his eyes. "you are quite something. you're pissed that someone might come here and force you back home. and yet you're telling me what to do with my time? a bit ironic."

"i…" you trail off. "fuck, you're right."

"thank you for thinking so," he teases. "and if i can, i'd like to comment on your dilemma. though i doubt the words of a stranger will do much, i hope i can be of some help."

"take it away, stranger."

he gives you a brief smile, before looking at the glass in his hand, thinking. "in my long life, i've had many heartaches and regrets. i've hurt myself as well as others along the process. but what i have learned is that letting your thoughts linger on their own only hurts more. so your choice of telling him was the right thing to do despite how it may have ended. and from what you're saying, he still loves you just the same. he's kind."

"waiting for the advice to kick in," you note, and he only laughs.

"he loves you. he would be a fool not to. there are few men who would do as you say if they didn't. i know this is the opposite of what you want, but speak to him again. he may be at another bar crying over you as you are over him. actually, i’m sure he is."

"he wouldn't cry over–"

"he would," the stranger interrupts, taking another sip. "if you listen to none of my words then listen to this: you are giving yourself no credit. he loves you. if your relationship is as special as you say, he will be crying at the end of the bar, swallowing his sorrows, just as you are now."

you swallow slowly. your mouth feels dry now, the alcoholic drinks somehow making you feel utterly sober. you push the glass further away, taking the last sip of the bottle of water in front of you. the stranger watches as you think.

"i'm not sure i'm ready for that. the confrontation, that is. i'm scared."

"and admitting that is brave in itself," he glances at the drink near you, waving the bartender over. "may i request another bottled water for the lady, and a coke for myself?"

the woman disappears down the bar after hearing the order. "i'm not usually this bad at drinking."

"i can tell. you've tended a few glasses already, love," he thanks the bartender, passing you the water. "it's cold, perhaps it'll wake you up sooner."

"drowning my sorrows, uh…" you blank on his name. "wait, did i just go on a rant without even introducing myself?"

"that you did."

if you could shrivel away into nothingness you would. "y/n. yourself?"

"kang yeosang."

“nice to meet you, kang yeosang,” you smile.

“likewise, y/n.”

“and thank you for the drink. you shouldn’t have.” you take a sip of the water. “i owe you.”

“do you?” he raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of coke. “then i ask only this: take care of yourself, and don’t listen to other strangers’ advice. and,” his eyes glance at the open bottle in front of you, hand moving over the top of the glass as he slides it closer to him. “don’t leave your other drinks out in the open, please.” he takes it away from you, “i saw a man pour something into it while you were gone.”

the buzz washes away at his words, “what?”

“that’s why i came over. he’s been watching you for a while now. i’ve already alerted the bartender, and the police should be here any moment now,” he covers the contaminated drink with a napkin. "I couldn't find the right moment to tell you, so i decided to let you speak while i watched your drinks."

insults at yourself begin to swirl in your head. how could you be so oblivious to it happening right in front of you? yeosang just stumbled upon it on his night out. if he wasn't here… you could only guess what would happen.

"is he still here?" your voice is lower now. body rigged.

yeosang pauses for a moment, before nodding. "yes. but he hasn't approached you since i've been lingering around you."

is it wrong of you to ask for him to stay?

"i won't leave until i know you're safe," he acknowledges the worried look in your eyes, a small smile gracing his lips. "we don't know each other well, but i'll keep my distance. if you don't mind it, of course. this situation is uncomfortable enough. i can leave you–"

"no!" your voice comes out louder than you'd like, your face warming briefly. "no. i want you to stay. if that's okay with you."

he nods. "it is."

the police arrive quickly, yeosang helping them identify and apprehend the suspect. he never leaves your side throughout the whole process, piecing things together that you haven't noticed at all. he keeps the same calm demeanor as before, giving the officers as much information as he can. you're more than grateful for his presence, soothing the long night you've had. eventually though, the police leave with the man.

the quiet air surrounding the bar is a bit unsettling now, knowing what you could have suffered. the two words you've wished to say to him throughout this ordeal are stuck in your throat. is it nerves? maybe. you were just never good with things like this. but still, he saved you. he didn't need to, but he did.

the thought makes the words come easier.

"thank you."

"not necessary," he waves you off easily. "anyone would have done something if they saw."

"but no one saw except for you. so i’m more than grateful. i don't know how to repay you–"

he shakes his head again. "no repayment. nothing. i've settled my thoughts now knowing you're safe. i do want to say something though. it may be overstepping my position as a little more than a stranger, but i do hope you stray away from the alcohol tonight. you're drunk, and it… may bother me a bit, knowing you're here alone."

the words of a stranger shouldn't make your chest float.

"alright."

time passes by fast as yeosang stands with you outside, the two of you watching the perpetrator being placed in handcuffs. though the police asked if you would like to ride with them and you explicitly stated no, yeosang offered to help you to the police station. pressing charges against a stranger on a night like this is the last thing you want to do, but having him attempt to do this to another innocent person would riddle you with guilt. you’re quiet throughout the small diatribe that the officer gives you, that overwhelming feeling again settling within you.

“must she go?” yeosang asks the officer, glancing over at you. “i was the one who witnessed it. there isn’t much for her to say other than she ordered a drink.”

“is that so? then are you willing to come instead?”

“of course. i’ll follow after you.”

the police officer thanks him again before leaving, disappearing into the oddly quiet night. yeosang looks you over, concerned. “would you like me to walk you to the train station?”

“that’s not necessary,” you say quickly. “it’s only a block or so away.”

he nods again. “well, please stay safe. don't,” he pauses, looking away. “don't follow strangers around. you seem to be sober enough, but still.”

“worried?” you ask, a bit cheeky.

“i am.”

there is no teasing in his voice, jaw tightening as he looks at you. conflicting emotions cross his gaze. you're not sure what to think of it yourself.

“you’re a stranger you know.”

he sighs, “i am.”

“can i have your phone number?” you ask. “just to let you know when i'm home safe. so you don't have to worry. and you can give it to the police if they need it.”

his smile is cheeky, the plush of his cheeks lifting. it makes the hard angles of his face softer, eyes rounder. you aren’t one to call men adorable, but there’s no other description you could think of. he digs into his jacket pocket, a sleek black phone appearing in his hands. without a response, he holds it out to you. you quickly type in your number underneath his quiet gaze, texting yourself. once confirming, you hand it back to him.

he stares at it for a moment, then hums. “perfect. don't forget about messaging me, y/n.” he tilts his head slightly, bowing. you do the same back, giving him one last glance before heading to the station. the itch of not looking back irks you, but you do so anyway. unfortunately in those brief seconds, he had already left the front of the bar. hm.

he must walk pretty fast.

–

you don’t message him.

it’s not like you promised the man that you’d do it, it was merely a suggestion. and he has your contact information, he can reach out if he'd like. once you arrived home that night you came to your senses. one - speaking to strangers about your personal problems should be saved for therapy - and two - you should not give said strangers your personal information after trauma dumping. the thought of you crying your heart out to him is embarrassing enough, you’re only glad you were too intoxicated to realize how embarrassing it was. sobriety may be in your future.

you push the cart down the tight aisle, careful not to push it into one of the shelves. you’ve left your job since telling seonghwa. but books have always been a home for you, so it took a bit, but you were able to find another small library placement not too far from your apartment. it didn’t pay as well since your position was based on seniority, but it’s enough for you to be comfortable.

you stop in one aisle, glancing down at the book in your hand before looking ahead. it is just your luck that you see the man of the hour.

he holds an identical copy in his hands, sunglasses tucked in his hair, resting on the top of his head. prescription glasses - this is your assumption - on the brim of his nose as he reads. his blond hair is as alluring as that night, the redness of his birthmark seen behind a few strands. his clothing is lightweight aside from the open brown trench coat; collared cotton button up, pleated pants, white shoes. a simple outfit and yet he stands out amongst the rest. your mind wasn’t making things up - his beauty is beyond what you can comprehend, just like your old best friend’s. hands flip through the book, lips slightly curved as he skims the pages. his soft brown eyes look up from his reading, meeting yours. you hope that he does not remember you, but recognition flashes in his gaze, cheeks lifting as he smiles. he lifts the glasses off his face, slipping them into the lining of his coat.

“it seems that you have gotten home well,” is the first thing that leaves yeosang’s mouth, book shutting. he places it back in its spot.

“i did,” there is no use lying to him that you couldn’t remember. the stillness of your body alone is enough for him to see the guilt hanging around you. “i’m sorry i didn’t let you know.”

“you had no obligation to a stranger,” he shrugs. “it would have been nice, but i didn’t expect much.”

“still, i should have said something,” you step closer to him, placing the book on the shelf. how awful that he smells really good too. sickening, even. “i was too scared to. after that night.”

his brows furrow, “scared? did i do something to upset you? or did someone else bother you?”

“no no,” you say quickly. “scared was a bad word to choose. maybe, embarrassed? i mean, i can’t believe i spilled my guts to a man that sat next to me at a bar on a random night,” you can feel your face warming. “i don’t think i’ll ever live it down.”

he smiles, shaking his head. “i told you it didn’t bother me. and i was glad to be your comfort, stranger or not. are you alright?”

he is still caring, even after you’ve decided not to message him. you nod, holding the book between your sweaty palms, “i am.”

“then all is well,” he steps around you. the wool of his coat brushes against your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. his perfume stuns you for a brief moment, grip tightening on the book. he glances at the shelves, before stepping out the aisle. you cannot help but think this may be your last chance of running into him — you’re not sure what reason you have to keep him around you for a while longer. but you step out the aisle, mouth ready to call out to him.

instead, your body almost collides with his, his hands wrapping around your upper arms to steady you. the touch is brief, though your stomach twists at his touch. he’s a bit cold, letting go once he sees you adjust yourself. he tucks a stray hair away from his face, cheeks lifted in a smile.

“this may be presumptuous of me, and i didn’t want to make any suggestions that night because of the situation. and i know you’re in a bad spot right now and it may not be a good time, but…” he clears his throat. “would you like to hang out? not a bar, not drinking. but a cafe maybe?”

your smile matches his, “yes.”

his small smile is endearing as he nods, looking away from you. “great.”

“good.”

he laughs, “seems like we’re both not good at this.”

“not at all. but at least we’re not good together.”

though he does not blush, his lips tremble, eyes scattering across your face as you say the words. perhaps he does not blush at all, but you can tell your words flustered him. he licks his lips, “i’ll message you, i’m free tonight.”

“so am i.”

“then it’s a date.”

he holds out his hand, and you take it, ready to shake. instead he lifts yours, his lips lightly brushing against the back of it. “a date.”

—

the air is calming between the two of you. shy glances back and forth, your fingers playing with the lining of your shirt, his dragging along the thin layer of shirt he wears. he is not cold, he told you this several times. his laugh echoes around the small cafe, cheeks lifting when he notices how loud he is. neither of you say much but it is plenty enough. he makes you forget about your heartache, your hurt. he shines rather brightly in the low light. you haven’t the need to focus on him fully, his presence effortless in comforting your heart. it is equally enjoyable and terrifying all at once. who would have though that after several dates you’d still feel terribly shy in front of him.

“can i see you again?” you ask after a moment of quiet laughter. it is something silly you’ve asked each time you’ve met up. it’s become a routine now, his smile too hard to resist each time you utter the words.

he takes a sip of his coffee. black. not something you’d choose for yourself, but he seems to enjoy it. it’s his second already. “of course. i hoped you would ask,” he admits jokingly, fingers pushing his hair away from his face. “i do enjoy being around you.”

“flattery only gets you so far,” you frown, though it is anything but irritation.

“it is only the truth,” he shrugs.

  if your face could turn red it would at his words, it would. your lips enclose around the metal straw, its cool temperature soothing. “have you had any partners recently?”

he shakes his head, “not in a long time. relationships were never something i considered.”

oh.

you try not to show how that affects you, but it seems to be spelled out in the expression you make. he continues speaking.

“but i think i’ve changed my mind rather recently,” he adds, avoiding your gaze completely. “and if that person is still… mending themselves, i am willing to wait.”

“even if it is long? what if it’s years?” there is no teasing in your tone, now. you are undoubtedly serious. you enjoy yeosang, you enjoy him being around you. but you wouldn’t ever want to hold him back from something he wants. no matter how much it’d hurt you - that devastation you felt yourself was enough. having the kind man in front of you experience even a fraction of what you have felt is terrible to fathom.

“love,” his hand reaches out, covering yours. though he insists that he’s not cold, you can feel it on his skin. but the word that he’s just said, let slip from his lips. love.

he called you love.

“i will wait for you,” he does not look away from you. “i will wait years if i have to.”

“yeosang, we’ve known each other for only a few months,” you shake your head, “it’s ridiculous to hold yourself back from someone you barely know.”

his fingers wrap around yours, humming, “right? i, i’ve met so many people in my life. but relationships were something i just did not desire. but,” he laughs. “your presence might have changed it all for me.”

you could only giggle, placing your free hand against your face, holding in your embarrassment. you are not one to declare your feelings as forward as he could. after a couple of seconds of letting his words sink in, you look back at him. his gaze is so clearly unswayed, held tilted barely as it rests on his hand.

“okay.”

“okay?” his brow raises.

“okay, i’m okay with that.”

his smile only grows, “so am i.”

-

though the two of you have never uttered that you were partners, you are exclusively seeing one another in a sense. he often rested at your place – on the couch, never in your room. you never went inside his place, though you’ve seen the outside of it. a tall building, one in a district you’ve avoided your whole life. yeosang never bragged about how much money he earned, but he told you that he was wealthy. enough so that he only traveled once or twice a month for work. he said it was business but again, didn’t elaborate. at the time you should have questioned him more about it but he changed the subject before your mind could truly settle on it.

and one night, out of the blue, he invites you to his place. you decided to go to the convenience store just before, stepping inside the well-lit area, scanning the ramyeon shelves. a startled oh pulls your attention away from the assortment, looking to your side.

if it were possible for a heart to physically shatter, this moment would be it. choi san stands there, eyes wide, hands wrapped around a bag of chips. he looks nervous and worried, glancing back then looking at you. your smile is strained. you grab whatever is in reach, turning down the aisle and going to the register. the employee greets you but you can’t muster a response, hand gripping the curve of the counter. thoughts elsewhere.

you never thought you’d run into any of them ever again, especially since hongjoong told you yourself that no one really ventured in this neighborhood. you wish he were here now to distract you from your inner turmoil. you thank the employee with your eyes, not bothering to look around and exiting the store.

“y/n, please wait!”

you hear his voice behind you. running would be silly, and you’re an adult right? dealing with your issues in person, rather than running from them. that’s what you’re supposed to do. so despite the sorrow and hurt that is merely simmering at the surface, you look at san. he looks as handsome as he always does, though his eyes are moist now, hands wrapped around his bag. he stops once he sees you turned around.

“hi, san.” you say, “i have somewhere to be–”

“i didn’t think it through,” he starts promptly, not bothering to greet you properly. “i thought it was just another hookup, y/n. fuck, i mean, i didn't know he liked me like that. or had feelings that were more than just wanting to fuck. everyone around that place knows how i am, i just," san sighs loudly. his fingers trembled as he pushed them through his hair. "seonghwa is a good guy. one of the best i know. i'd never break his heart on purpose. i didn't know what to do anymore. i wanted to tell you what i felt so i was going to. and then you left the place entirely so i couldn't even talk to you about it and–"

"i don't blame you, san," you say softly, noticing his spiral. "i don't think he blames you either. he takes stuff like this hard, that's all. seonghwa doesn't hate you, he doesn't hate anyone. but i doubt you'd be the same if the person you like rejects you. it takes a while to get back to yourself. this is him taking that time."

he rubs his face, nodding at your words. "you think so?"

"we were best friends for longer than i can count. i know– knew, him better than i know myself. i'm more than sure."

“i didn’t know you had a thing for him, y/n. i said it at the time because i didn't know how to let him down easy. i really didn't know it was true.”

there it is. the conversation you’ve avoided for months now. the heartbreak that you’ve hidden so deeply inside of you. yeosang never mentioned it and neither did you. but seeing san, knowing that his hookup with seonghwa is what started it all. it’s not his fault, but seeing him again now, in front of you, makes it harder. you rub your face, closing your eyes.

“i didn’t know either, san. but it’s been a long time since it happened. we shouldn’t let something so long ago bother us now. i’m okay.”

relief seems to sink into him, “i’m sorry. and i’m sorry for telling him, it was shitty of me.”

“it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. things happen. but i’m okay now. it’s okay.”

“right, you are,” his gaze flicks to how your hand trembles as you hold your bag. “there’s so much more to say, but i don’t want to hold you up any longer. you probably have somewhere to be.”

“i do, but thank you,” you pause. “thank you for stopping me too. i hope you’re well. i hope you and everyone else at the place are healthy. send them my greetings.”

“i will,” he smiles, dimples intending his cheeks. san has always been a kind man. you’ve never had any ill will towards him, he just ended up in the middle of it all. “i’m sure seonghwa would like to hear that.”

–

your hair sticks to your forehead. makeup trickles down your cheeks, staining your shirt. your plastic bag grew too heavy for you to hold, sitting on the side of you as you stare out into the streets. you haven’t moved from the front of the market.

your phone ran out of charge long ago, tucked inside your bag. you tried to grab it, knowing that yeosang probably called, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. the incident with seonghwa was months ago, it was so long ago. you shouldn’t be this upset.

you shouldn’t be this hurt.

hearing his name after such a long time, you thought you’d be okay. you thought that you would handle it easily. but his name, along with seeing san? it was all too much.

is there something wrong with you? he didn’t die, he’s probably living well without you. and yet you mourn. your tears hidden beneath the rain, body shivering. you should try to get to yeosang. let him know you’re okay.

you should do that.

you look down at the sidewalk beneath you. people walk past. some have glanced at you, but none have pulled you from this. what is this? why can’t you describe it?

you’re cold.

“hey.”

you barely look up from where you are. an older man stands there, vaguely familiar. you think back for a moment – ah, the employee in the store. mustering up words is just too much effort now. so you meekly nod, water splattering against your face. his hand touches your shoulder and you tense up.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn't be out here alone.”

your lips tremble, nudging his hand away. he only tightens his grip, your eyes widening. your chest tightens, body unwilling to move. you've never been in such a situation, filled with too much fear to force your mind out of its despair. just as he begins to lean down, a loud sound fills your ears. you close your eyes, the ringing harsh against your temple. enough so that it consumes your thoughts.

you should call him.

the hum of a car stops in front of you. the door slamming should have startled you, but you’ve grown too numb from the sound to react. you feel those familiar cold hands on your cheeks. it’s enough for you to look up. the mark looks darker in this low light, brown against his temple, fading into the curve of his eyes. his thumbs rub your cheeks, eyes flicking between yours. neither of you say a word, but you feel how he pulls you into his chest. you cannot remember when the sobs began. but they engulf you, hands finally able to move, arms wrapped around his body as he pulls you into him. you’re too overwhelmed to say anything, but you hear him. you hear his words.

i’m here for you.

i know, i know.

it hurts a lot, i know.

let’s get you somewhere warm.

–

you sit on his sofa. he’s given you his clothing to change into, an older pair of sweats and sweater. he hasn’t touched you since bringing you back to his place, careful to avoid your skin. a cup of steaming medicinal tea sits on the small coffee table, cookies you love next to it. your eyes flick to the screen, television playing your favorite cartoon.

yeosang does not say a word as he cooks in the kitchen, humming every once in a while. he has not broken the silence and neither have you. your heart has settled down a bit, enough for you to speak. are you scared to start? yes. yeosang has never been once to pry, always allowing you your own space to say what you wanted. it’s something you’ve admired since you’ve met him. there was never any pushing from him. he let you open up yourself.

“it was san,” your voice is low. you’re afraid that he has not heard you at all, but his humming stops.

“the hookup?”

you thank him silently for his good memory. “yes. he… we ran into each other inside that convenience store. he said sorry for everything. then he said his name, and i…”

you couldn’t breathe.

“it hurt.”

“it did,” you murmur. “i thought it’d be fine, speaking to him. since it’s been so long, i thought i’d be fine. but i wasn’t, yeosang. it felt like the first day that i told seonghwa to never speak to me again. it just felt like too much.”

“you have yet to mourn what you’ve lost, love,” yeosang enters the living room, sitting on the couch across from you. “it will hurt for a while even if you’ve accepted that he was no longer in your life. he’s your best friend.”

“was,” you correct. yeosang doesn’t comment on that, continuing.

“it will take time.”

you hide your face, sighing. “and i’ve only just opened myself up to you because i was afraid of my hurt. i cannot believe i let you see me that way.”

“you know that that doesn't bother me. we care for each other, y/n. i hope that we can see each other at our best and at our worst.”

“that’s the thing,” you look up. “you’ve been seeing me at my worst this whole time, you haven’t even seen me at my best and yet you’ve stayed.”

yeosang looks at you, hand resting on his knee. he closes his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly. “that is because i haven’t told you all of what i’ve been dealt, y/n.”

you can feel that ill feeling slowly come back. he seems to sense it, quickly speaking.

“it is nothing against you, that i assure you. but this might not be the best time to say anything more. you are still hurt. i’d rather you not be overwhelmed with it all.”

“are you a criminal or something?” you joke, though there is a bit of curiosity within the jab. yeosang has not shown you anything negative so you cannot quite guess what he’s hiding. you haven’t seen his family yet or friends, so maybe it’s that? letting your mind wander will only make it worse.

“no.”

“yeosang–”

"i’m a vampire."

"and i am a fairy," you snort, rolling your eyes. yeosang thinks for a moment, eyes flicking over yours.

"i'd believe it since your beauty matches one of the fae, but your personality does not. there's not a conniving cell in your body, love."

“you’re joking,” your brows furrow, staring at him. he does not give you the usual small smile, nor does he laugh at your confusion. no, all he does is stare at you, waiting for a response. you can only look at him, eyes flicking over his face. oh, you’ve fallen for a man who lost his mind, then?

your luck just seems to continuously run out.

“you look like you’re going to run,” he says, attempting to reach you. you move away, and he does not try to chase you. he observes you as you stand from your spot, body tensing the more you look at him.

his beauty has always been something you’ve noticed, something that’s occupied your mind more times than not. but you’ve seen him eating, seen him drink coffee and swallow slices of pizza with you. from what you’ve learned of vampires (via various forms of media), they cannot stomach human food.

“how?”

he shrugs, “it has been a millennia, y/n, and i still don’t have the answer to that.”

“i mean,” you wave your hands around. “you’ve eaten food with me, you’ve had drinks with me. you’ve done all of that, and not once have i seen you drink blood.” your stomach turns at the thought. “yeosang, you’re joking with me, right? this is just a weird test or something?”

“what would i be testing on you, love?”

“i don’t know–”

“y/n, listen to me carefully.” he still does not move from his spot, but his eyes meet yours, his lips trembling slightly. “i was born as a vampire. i was not turned into this creature. i have met several of my kind over the centuries. most of us avoid one another since we are not really friendly. we stay on our own most of our lives. there may be times where you see one or two together, but rarely more than that. i am alone,” he says slowly. “i have not told a human soul what i am since i was a child. you are the only one who knows, on this earth.”

“because people would think you’re out of your mind?”

“that,” he agrees. “and because i am rare, one of less than a hundred. and humans are fond of dissecting things they do not understand. though my life has been long, i have still a lot of it left. i’d rather not die early.”

his words are just unreal. no matter how he explains it to you, you just cannot accept them as true. he seems to know that as well, sighing softly. “you do not believe me?”

“i believe that you think that’s what you are. have you ever seen a doctor for your condition?”

“y/n, as i have told you–”

“right,” you nod slowly. “the whole i’m-the-only-human-who-knows thing.”

“would you like me to prove it to you?" he does not wait for an answer, standing up from his spot and walking off. you do not follow, eyes widening when you see him come back with a knife in his hand. he sits down at the coffee table, legs folded. “this is the only way you’d believe me.”

“yeosang, i believe you,” you watch as he lifts the knife. “yeosang!”

his eyes meet yours briefly, smiling, “don’t worry.” he drops it, the chopping sound echoing around you. you scream, hands rushing to cover your eyes. the sound is horrid, there is no description of how the slicing of flesh resonates. the metal clings as it hits the floor. there is no howl of pain, no sound of him falling to the floor with the knife. nothing at all. you’re terrified to open your hands and see what he’s done.

“you have to look quickly before it heals, y/n,” he says softly. “please, do this one thing for me.”

“i swear, yeosang,” you hesitantly look at him, flinching once you see what’s in front of you. there are no splatters of blood. his hand is not on his wrist at all. but what you do see, oh, it’s indescribable. his amputated hand slowly slides back to his wrist stump. the sound is like bones cracking as it attaches itself. the two of you watch, skin sinking into each other, smoothing over until it appears that nothing has happened at all.

you’re stunned.

“you are all i can trust,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “this might be a lot to take in but–”

you raise your hand, “hold on.”

as moronous his confession is, it makes sense, oddly. sure, there’s no possible explanation for how he could possibly chop off his wrist, especially without as much as a scream from him. but what is his purpose - has he planned this all to entrap you? you care for him dearly, possibly love him. is this his goal all along, have you involved enough so you’re unable to leave his side? unable to make rational decisions? you from months ago would have ran out the room from a confession like this, but you just cannot. you look at your yeosang sitting on the floor, waiting for you to speak. he has not moved ever since you have, has not attempted to stop you from going anywhere. you’ve even tested it, taking a slight step back. still, not a muscle twitches.

there are several conclusions you can come to, but one is certain - yeosang at least believes that he’s a vampire. and that should utterly terrify you. but he is still your yeosang, even if he indulges in blood once in a while. and he just chopped off his hand.

for fucks sake, are you that desperate for human connection that you'll hang around a blood drinker?

are you mad?

  “y/n?” he interrupts the quiet. “you can leave if you want to. i won’t stop you if this is too much.”

that’s your yeosang, ever so caring, ever so thoughtful.

“you’re not lying?” you ask again. “you’re a vampire?”

“yes.”

“a good one?”

his lip twitches, “that's subjective, but i try to be.”

“why are you telling me now?”

he looks away from you for the first time tonight, gaze out the windows. you haven’t had the chance to look around his place because you’ve been too stuck in your sorrow, but it is him. a penthouse, but him. the city looks into the apartment as he begins.

“after seeing you so destroyed tonight, i couldn’t let myself go another day without saying it. i should have told you so long ago, but i didn’t know how involved we’d be. i thought it would be a short time we’d see each other. but i enjoy being around you. there has not gone a day since we’ve met each other at that bar that i haven’t thought of you. and it is utterly terrifying. so hiding this secret from you… i could no longer do it. i needed to know that you were not scared of me before continuing to be around you.”

“how do you know i’m not afraid?”

his smile is small, not reaching his eyes. “i have seen true terror in my lifetime, y/n. i know it when i see it.”

“if i decided i didn’t want to be this with you? what then?”

“it would be hard, but i would let you go, y/n. you’re not trapped here, you’ll never be,” he rubs his face. “do you hear me, truly? you can leave now and never come back, and that would be the end of us.”

you don’t want this to end. in fact, the mere thought of never seeing yeosang again makes you ill. you care too much for him to just go, even with information like this. so, he’s a vampire. he drinks blood. there could be worse things, no?

you cannot even believe your own thoughts.

“this is fine,” you say aloud, nodding slowly. you think back to when you were outside of the store, when that older man began to bother you. you look at yeosang. he came within seconds of that happening, barely a minute passed. it wasn’t him who helped you, was it?

“did you hurt that old man?”

yeosang stares at you, eyes flicking between the two of yours. “no.”

“are you lying?”

“i did not hurt him, y/n. i grabbed him, yes, and pulled him away from you. i told him to never touch you again, to never touch anyone else again, or else i would hurt him,” he looks down at his hands. “i wanted to kill him, if you were going to ask that next. i wanted to very badly, but i didn’t. you needed me, and i couldn’t let anyone distract me from that.”

you believe him. despite the strange circumstances, you do. you take a step closer to him, his movements frozen. your hand reaches for his, the obvious cool temperature of his making more sense now. “thank you.”

he lifts your hand, lips pressing against the surface. “you’re welcome.”

-

things changed after that.

neither you nor yeosang bring up anything that occurred that night. he does not press you about san and you don’t bring it up at all. things have progressed slightly. his tenderness is never ending; hands caressing the soft skin of your hips, lips brushing against your neck and collarbone. there’s a bit of excitement when he does that as well – knowing his true nature. he hasn’t hinted that he wants to feed off of you. you know it is due to your fear, deep down. he drinks from blood bags stored in his freezer, heating them up in the microwave. he avoids you entirely as he does so, brushing his teeth and washing himself before settling in the same room with you again. you’ve told him he didn’t need to do anything like that, that you care for him as he is, but he confessed that it’s difficult for him to be around you after drinking, bloodlust at the surface. and he’d rather you not see him that way.

“alarmingly disturbing,” he notes, nose wrinkling at the movie poster. you merely roll your eyes, passing him his small cup of soda as you walk through the outdoor mall.

“i’m sure i saw you cry at the end.”

his eyes widen, “i cannot cry, you know that well.”

“yeah yeah.”

you insisted on him going with you after his confession that he’s never entered a theater. it is magical to be with someone when they’re doing something they’ve never done before. his soft eyes widening at the large screen, words mumbled into your ear at certain scenes. his hand still hasn’t left yours after it ended.

his fingers tighten around yours as he points at the decorations, “it’s the middle of january and yet the decor is still up from the holidays. i never celebrated much but,” he takes a sip of his soda. “it is heartwarming.”

“remind you of the movie?” you grin, and he only frowns. you laugh, nudging him slightly. “it was a pretty somber ending, i know.”

“they both followed different paths, but they met each other again. i…” he sighs. “i know it’s supposed to reflect a realistic path, but they could have been together. they both wanted it.”

“some things don’t work out even if they do want each other.”

his gaze slides to yours, and your smile slips slightly, already suspecting where his thoughts lie. you look away from him, “don’t give me that look.”

“what look?” his voice is smaller this time.

“you know what look i’m talking about.”

“y/n…”

“i can’t, not right now.”

“i’m not pushing you to say anything, you know that.”

“i know.”

“but i want you to settle your feelings. it’s not good to keep it all inside of you,” he stops walking, straw away from his mouth. his brows furrowed in concentration, thinking. “i cannot believe i’m about to say this.”

“yeosang…”

his fingers loosen slightly, but he does not let go. “i fear that my love for you is much more than what should be allowed,” his eyes are moist, unable to leave yours. “surrendering myself to you is a choice i have made, but it is quite mad, is it not? committing my heart to you without knowing what you feel about me. i know you like me, i know that. you wouldn’t let me be around you otherwise. i have now trusted you with my secret, with all of these things, and not once have i felt fearful of you telling someone. the only fear i've felt is losing you.” he shakes his head slowly. “you are a human. i have fallen for a human. a human who is heartbroken over a love that she has lost. i know this, and i stand here telling you that i love you. is it not stupid?”

it is not a question for you to answer, rhetorical even, but you decide to respond. “it’s a bit stupid.”

he laughs dryly. “it is.”

“but you have done it anyway. it’s stupid, but maybe even idiotic,” you go on, his expression worsening at your words. “you know what is even more stupid? me, watching you struggle to confess in front of me and not admitting that i feel the same way for you.” his eyes widened. you swallow slowly, blinking slowly. “we shouldn’t love each other this way, yeosang. not after that night, not after me breaking down from hearing seonghwa’s name.”

“we shouldn’t, love.”

“but we do anyway,” you smile. “stupid.”

“completely.”

his gaze settles on yours, before flicking down to your lips. your breath hitches at the glance, until he looks away. “i must warm up the car before you enter, i can be back quickly,” just as he is about to step away from you, you grab his arm. he does not move, even as you move closer.

“can we…”

his body trembles at your hand against the skin of his neck. “y/n…”

“it will be quick.”

his resolve is breaking the longer he looks down at you. his hand reaches up, pulling your face closer to his. "i would love to, y/n. but your heart still belongs to him, even if it’s small," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. he feels how your breath hitches, how your hold on him loosens. he would have pulled away but he knows you need this. knows you need to hear what he has to say. "i know you're still in love with him, y/n. pushing it deeper and deeper will only make it worse when you see him again. don't pretend in front of me, please."

you move your face away, eyes moving to his. you expected hurt, anger, sorrow. regret, even. but nothing like that meets your gaze. empathy. brows furrowed, lips parted. his thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that falls.

oh, you're crying.

you touch your cheek, swallowing slowly. "i thought it would go away."

"if only that were so easy," his face relaxes. "you have to go see him again."

"i can't do that."

"he's your best friend."

"was," you correct once more. "he was my best friend. then i pushed him away because i was afraid. i let my phone ring until i blocked his number because he wouldn't stop calling. i let him move on, yeosang. i let him go."

he presses his forehead against yours. you welcome the cool temperature of his skin, shivering slightly. "that's not letting him go. that's removing him from your life with force. he never wanted to leave your side."

"you don't know anything."

"i've seen seonghwa, pretty."

you still. “what?”

"i saw him not too long after meeting you. he was broken," he admits. you've known him long enough to tell when he's choosing his words carefully. for your benefit. "he was with a friend crying at the bar. weeping. his body shook. i didn't know who he was at the time, but it looked as if he was struck by grief. i planned on walking over to confront him, perhaps take away some of his burden, but then i heard your name slip from his lips. i've lived long enough not to believe in coincidences. he was sobbing your name. a man sobbing another's name with such raw emotion could not be angry with you. he was mourning the relationship the two of you had. i know i may be overstepping, but please see him. just one time, speak to him. i need you to."

no.

san saying his name in front of you tonight was enough to stun you. seeing seonghwa again… you cannot.

you won’t.

“no.”

his hand leaves your face. he presses a light kiss to your temple, your eyelids fluttering at the contact. in typical yeosang fashion, he says, “okay, pretty.” he makes sure you’re looking at him when he smiles, squeezing your hand as he pulls you along with him. his humming fills the silence as you walk, as if nothing happened.

you cannot help yourself.

“yeosang, you’re not upset? about any of this?”

"why would i be?” his brow raises.

you’re not sure how to answer that.

he continues, “i am yours, y/n. that is why i am so persistent on you seeing him. i don't want you to live in regret being with me when the man you also love is not too far away."

"i don't want to leave you." and it's true. you've spent the last few months with him, by his side. having him ripped away would only make your mental condition worsen. yes, you shouldn't depend on another's presence for comfort so deeply and you're learning slowly not to, but leaving him now will only make it worse. you love him without ever uttering the words. you love him more than you can describe. "i can't leave you."

"listen to my words carefully, love," he stops moving, looking up at you. "i am not leaving you. i will never dream of it. i am in love with you, y/n. i've never said it before tonight i know, but i am. and i do not plan on ever leaving your side unless you want me to, understand? so i don't mind, if something happens between you and seonghwa, i don't mind it."

“nothing is going to happen.”

he nods slowly, “alright. shall we go?” he gestures to the guards in front of you, the sounds of stores dropping their gates and locking their doors. “we’ll discuss this more at a later time. i can make you something when we get back.”

-

that night is the last time he has ever pushed you, though slightly, into confessing your feelings to seonghwa, and your apology. hongjoong is elated when you tell him of your new relationship status, though you could see the slight worry dwelling as well. he knows as well as yeosang how badly your heart is hurt. you trust yeosang not to hurt you - he has never done anything remotely close to battering it. but that’s not what they’re both worried about.

his words linger. the two of you flourish in your relationship, though he has never once let his lips touch yours. you’re not sure if it’s his gentle nature or if he does not want to touch you that way until you’ve settled your feelings, but it does sting a bit. each time you initiate he turns his cheek for your touch to be placed there.

the intimacy avoidance just continues to grow.

after one of his after-feeding showers, you sit at his counter. head resting on your folded hands, watching the world just outside this apartment. too consumed in your own thoughts. you don’t bother leaning into his touch when his lips kiss the back of your neck. thumb rubbing the back of your arm. you don’t flinch at all, that in itself is concerning enough for yeosang to stop at the fridge.

“y/n? are you alright?”

“fine.”

he closes the fridge, moving around the counter to stand in front of you. he wears a loose graphic tee you’ve gifted him, his sweatpants that you wore that night covering his legs. his head tilts. you’ve always found that habit of his endearing, but right now you’re too annoyed and frustrated to have it affect you. his frown deepens when you don’t meet his eyes.

“pretty girl.”

those words almost get you. you close your eyes now, moving your head to rest on your hands instead, face hidden. “fine, yeo.”

the guilt of this situation begins to riddle within you. there is no obligation for him to do anything with you and you’d never force the situation, but your own desires are sitting at the surface. yeosang walks around the table, his hand brushing over your skin, draping himself over your hunched over body, it’s comforting, his sweet scent wrapping around you. you feel the brush of his nose against the back of your ear, breath tickling your skin. you tense.

yeosang stops, though he does not let you go. “you’re upset with me?”

“i’m not.”

“i can’t read your mind, but i can tell when something’s up, y/n. did i do something?”

“yeosang,” you sigh, body trembling when you feel the brush of his lips on your earlobe. unable to take the closeness without your mind wandering elsewhere, your chair slides harshly against the tiles. you stand up and move away from him, fists tucked to your sides. his brow furrows as he looks at you, head tilting. “i can’t concentrate when you’re that close.”

“okay, that's fine. but we can’t move forward if you don’t tell me what’s upsetting you,” he takes the spot you were once in, sitting on the edge of the stool. his legs are apart, fabric tight against his thighs. leaving nothing to the imagination.

oh how your suffering continues.

“are we moving too fast?” he asks after a moment. “should we take a moment to think this through?”

“no!” your voice is louder than you’d like, the teasing of a grin on his lips. “no, we don’t need to go slower than we already are.” you stop, sighing. “i don’t know how to say it.”

“you want me,” he says simply, taking a sip of your water. “since you said ‘slower than we already are’, you want us to take a larger step in our relationship. am i correct?”

flustered at his quickness, you nod. he hums, thumb rubbing the condensation of the small glass cup. your gaze follows his movements, room temperature increasing by the second. you only look away when yeosang speaks up again.

“it’s not like i don’t want you, pretty,” he places the glass on the countertop, looking at you. “do you know how difficult it is for me to not touch you? i am a predator, my smell is heightened. everytime i’m in a room with you all i smell is you, all i want is you,” he says simply, laughing at the expression forming on your face. “it’s not all i think about, but it’s very prominent in my mind.”

“then what’s wrong?”

his smile wavers, “you know what’s wrong, pretty girl. i said it when we confessed to each other. i need you to speak to him again.”

“yeosang, i told you how i felt.”

“i know, and i accepted your choice. but i just,” a long exhale escapes his lips. “i want you so badly, so desperately, but i cannot move forward until you settle your own feelings with seonghwa. i don’t want you to think i’m forcing you to do anything because that’s not my intention at all. i’m sorry if the thought crossed your mind about me not wanting you sexually because i truly do. but you’re not fully here with me, y/n. and i fear you never will be unless you see him again. i don't want you to live with the regret of what could have been.”

you hate it. you hate that you want to accuse him of manipulating you into a conversation with seonghwa, though he is not forcing it upon you. you thought you could hide your feelings, thought that with time, you would no longer think of him because you have the man in front of you. but you have. you haven’t stopped thinking of him since you ran into san. it is like he’s embedded himself in your brain. you thought you’d be okay enough to move forward with yeosang, love him with everything you have, but you can’t. he’s right. it wouldn’t be fair to him if you let this feeling continue.

yeosang lets his words settle within you.

“okay.”

“okay?” his brow raises.

“i think i’m ready to talk to him.”

he looks at your eyes, nodding slowly. “it will be good for you.”

the question still lingers, though; what’ll be the outcome? what if seonghwa breaks you - what if he repairs you? what if at that moment, you forget about yeosang, forget about all of this? you can’t do that to him. you love him more than you can describe, but feelings can change in a moment.

“y/n.”

you’re not sure when he stood up, coming closer to you. he holds your head in his hands, eyes flicking between yours. “i love you too dearly for me to be upset if you left me for him.”

“how did you…”

oh. you definitely said that all out loud.

“i don’t want anything to happen,” you whisper. “something could happen.”

“it may. but i myself, i am not…” he thinks for a moment. “i wouldn’t mind opening this relationship for you, if your feelings match one another's.”

now this is something the both of you have never discussed. he picks up on the alarm in your expression, continuing. “i never really desired anyone like this before. i’ve fucked, yes, but relationships didn’t really happen for me. that is something i’ve glossed over a bit in the past,” he looks away. “my relationships consisted of me only having sex with another, but not really a partnership. nothing that i would consider to be a full blown relationship. but with you, i wouldn’t mind sharing you. you are too wonderful for me to ever deny your desires for humans. there are some things that i’ll never be able to give you,” his hand brushes against your cheek. “like warmth. and someone to grow old with, a child. i will remain this age and you won't.”

that thought lingered in your mind as you've spent time with him. being a vampire isn't something you want for yourself, even if you love yeosang dearly. you're not even sure how that process works because you didn't desire it so you never asked. but opening your relationship? you never thought about being polyamorous.

“this is confusing,” you murmur. he presses a kiss to your forehead. “i don't know yeosang, this is a lot to take in.”

“it is,” he agrees. “i'm here for you if there are any questions.”

the conversation turns away from seonghwa a bit as you have an open conversation with one another. yeosang explains how he does not really have a label for himself, living his immortal life with eyes open. you yourself have attraction to all sorts of people, fitting for how yeosang views himself. it is odd that though you two haven't spoken about it, you're so similar. he also explains that he does not see himself seeing anyone but you in your lifetime, and insists that he tell you if something changed. you aren't quite sure how you'll handle the seonghwa feelings, if he even considered your own after all this time. yeosang only assures you that whatever you decide he will accept, whether it be a polyamorous relationship, monogamous with either him or yeosang, or nothing at all. his acceptance is astonishing, but he only explains that his long life has told him not to worry about small things like this.

if only you could say the same.

yeosang does not make any sort of move towards you, holding you close as you sleep in his bed. the long day brings exhaustion to settle on your shoulders. soon enough, in the cool embrace of yeosang, you fall asleep.

—

the cold chill seeps into your wool coat. yeosang insisted that you wear your thickened sweater while you were out and about, but you ignored his worried gaze and told him you'd be back soon enough. but now that you stand outside the café, hands tucked into your pockets as you wait for it to open, you regret ever not listening to his advice. you can imagine him now, soft lips protruding from their usual small smile, nose flared and brows tight with concern. the mental image only makes your own lips lift.

“he was right about the temperature,” hongjoong's eyes peer between the thickened cotton scarf wrapped around his neck and forehead. he's covered completely from head to toe in clothing his partner made for him, rosy nose the only sliver of skin shown. it's endearing to see him loved this dearly, knowing that he's sought out someone for much longer than you have. he digs into his pocket, handing you his spare mittens and a heat packet. you thank him, slipping your hands into the soft material.

“think it's an immortal thing to predict the temperature?” he asks, whining when you lightly hit his calf with his boot. “what!”

“i told you not to speak of it in public,” you discussed it with yeosang about telling your best friend. he was a bit hesitant at first, but agreed. hongjoong believed it much easier than you had, nodding in content and murmuring something about yeosang being a bit too beautiful and kind for a human. it was ridiculous reasoning at the time, but you were glad he believed you. hiding it from him would have weighted on your mind.

“I barely said anything,” he shoots you a glare. “but seriously, you should have grabbed a scarf.”

“i didn't think they'd be closed at 8am on a saturday!”

“you should have checked,” hongjoong whines, stepping closer to you. he pulls you into his side, arm wrapped around your shoulder. it’s not enough to subside the freezing temperatures, but you find it endearing nonetheless. “i used to hate it when customers waited outside just before opening. started off my day wrong.”

“we can walk around or something,” you murmur, and he laughs, nudging you slightly.

“it’ll be fine, we’re not staying long anyway.” he looks around, his laugh disappearing swiftly. you look over your shoulder to see what's caught his attention, but he turns your body away, forcing you to look the opposite direction.

“joong, what the hell?”

“it's seonghwa.”

your throat tightens up. seonghwa? he's here? fear begins to climb in you. you haven't readied yourself to approach him. it was going to happen soon, but not now. not early morning, body shivering from the brisk air. not when you're still afraid to speak to him. hongjoong moves you further away from the store. you would thank him if you could.

“hongjoong?”

seonghwa's sweet voice carries through the air. hongjoong hesitates, looking at you. he does not say a word, but his eyes tell it all. should i ignore him? should i let you go and i speak to him alone? they're still friends, that you know. you encouraged hongjoong to stay friends with him, your hurt was never his. but now, here you stand. you can either face it, deal with it, or run away again. no one would scold you for it, protecting your feelings. but how much longer can you run?

you shake your head at his questioning eyes. he settles on you for another moment, before turning around. you follow his lead.

seonghwa is as beautiful as he always is. beanie pulled over his head and covering his ears, black hair barely peeking from beneath. glasses likely tucked away in his bag. he matches the gloomy morning, long navy coat, black boots. the slight flush of his cheeks due to the low temperature. he smiles, and your heart races. his gaze moves from hongjoong’s, shifting to you.

his eyes widen, flicking over your face. eyes, nose, lips, hat, body, eyes again. his lips part, a sigh leaving them. his brows furrow, hand clenching, then relaxing. you've seen this happen before. that day on the roof, the last time you saw him. the look in his eyes is different though. it is not filled with hurt. confusion, worry.

you’re not sure what emotion has settled in his gaze.

“birdie…?” his voice cracks, looking at hongjoong briefly. how that nickname almost breaks you completely.

“hwa,” your lips tremble, but you force them to smile anyway. “hi.”

“hey,” he drags the word, blinking quickly. “hi.”

“the café is open, i'll grab a few coffees,” hongjoong looks around seonghwa. “be right back, alright?” be looks between the both of you, before leaving. the air only thickens as you two stand here alone. your rub your fingers on the hot pack in your gloves, gaze on the ground.

“i didn't think i'd ever see you again,” he admits. “it's been a long time.”

“it really has,” you agree. awkward. you were never this awkward with him. the two of you walk around the issue, the uneasiness only growing. “i–”

“i'm–”

you speak simultaneously. his cheeks darken. “you can go first.”

“no, you. i’ve said plenty since we last spoke, didn't i?”

a smile appears, though it doesn't reach his eyes. another cloud leaves his lips as he sighs, hand tugging on the loose strap of his bag. “did i fuck up back then? did i hurt you so badly that you didn't want to deal with me anymore, birdie? is that why you wanted to leave me alone?”

how easily he lets the nickname roll off his tongue. as if it hasn’t been over half a year since you’ve seen each other. as if you didn’t remove him from your life. but no. you didn’t want to leave him. you never did.

you shake your head, “never. i couldn't handle it all, i couldn't handle the way you were looking at me. it was a lot.”

“how did i look at you?”

“like you pitied me. like you were about to tell me how you felt, and i,” you weren't ready to hear his rejection. “i was scared. i didn't think that my feelings for you would be told that way. i wasn't ready for it.”

“so you then decided that it was best that you never deal with it at all?” he frowns, brows furrowing. “you didn't let us talk it out, and you ran from me. you didn't let me say anything else.”

“i messed up. i was too insecure to hear what you had to say.”

“want to go to the park for a bit?” he gestures behind the two of you. you take out your phone, sending hongjoong a quick message that you’ll be gone for a while. he sends a thumbs up back. likely aware that this was going to happen anyway.

you two walk next to each other, your hands tucked in your pockets, rubbing the heat pack. seonghwa glances at you, worry about his features. he does not say it, probably due to the situation, but you can tell it’s at the tip of his tongue.

“you look cold.”

oh, so he does say it.

“i thought we’d be out here for a few minutes,” you admit. seonghwa’s lips lift slightly.

“you are always underprepared.”

“i really am,” you shake your head. you should have grabbed that coat like yeosang asked. the two of you walk a bit further, finally arriving at the park. it’s a place the two of you have spent plenty of time at on breaks or excursions, from children to adults. seonghwa wipes off the seat of a swing, gesturing for you to sit. you do, thanking him as he takes the spot next to you. the sun is peeking above the clouds now, temperature rising slowly.

"i didn't know how i felt until you were gone, birdie," his hands are wrapped around the chains of the swing, eyes glued to the snow beneath your feet. seonghwa always radiated confidence, sureness. it was rare that you've ever seen him so vulnerable. so afraid. it makes your heart ache knowing that though it was not entirely your fault, you cause some of his anxiousness. "i was too forward when we spoke about it. overwhelmed, i think. i was so heartbroken over san that i didn't take your feelings into consideration. i let my thoughts get to me. i made you close up, i made you run. and i can tell you're about to interrupt me but just let me say this okay birdie? give me this one thing."

you nod, holding back your words.

"i fucked up when i confronted you. you were right when i didn't want you to be. i let myself get lost in the attention of the guy that i liked. but i think, no, i know that losing you made me see what i've really lost. i lost my best friend, and the one person in this world that has been by me my whole life. i was blind, i think. wait, is that right to say?" He curses himself, taking another breath. "for fucks sake, i thought id practiced this enough to say it right but it just doesn't make sense."

he peeks through his covered face, eyes softening when they meet yours. "i'm in love with you, birdie."

you shake your head, blinking quickly. "you're–"

"i'm not letting you do that," he interrupts with swiftness. "i'm not letting you say that my feelings aren't real when i know they are. it's been months of me thinking about it. this isn't some sudden epiphany. you're not a rebound to me. i wouldn't do that to you, i care too much to even consider that. not that you have to accept my feelings," he adds in. "you can tell me to fuck off and i’ll do it. a little teary-eyed, but i’d still do it."

“seonghwa.”

“i just,” he swallows, “if you don’t want anything like that with me, it’s okay. i just can’t lose you again. it’ll take time, but i’ll move on if you don’t want me that way. we can still be best friends. or at least something. i just… i can’t lose you again.”

yeosang's declaration repeats in your head over and over as you decide how to respond. your heart and head are fighting one another. there's no doubt in your love for yeosang, not even slightly. and he was right – you still love seonghwa no matter how many times you try to push the feelings away. him confessing this to you now, how does that make you feel? and how will he react once you tell him about your partner now? not taking the leap now when you're so deep into it all will only lead to regret later. and you've done enough of that the past few months to last a lifetime.

"i’m still in love with you, seonghwa," you whisper. "i thought i would get over it but i haven't. it scared me how attached i am to you, especially after a while. maybe the years have caught up to me, i’m not sure. but i still love you."

he opens his mouth to speak but you hold out your hand, stopping him. "i can't continue this conversation though, without telling you."

his brows furrow. "tell me what?"

"during our time apart i met someone, hwa," you look at him, his face crumbling immediately at the information. "i met him and i fell in love with him. and i know it hasn't been that long but it's serious. i can't imagine my life without him now."

he nods slowly, "it was presumptuous of me to think you just stayed stagnant this whole time. im sorry–"

"wait, seonghwa. yeosang and i, well, he told me to come to you. he knows how i feel about you and thought i should see you in person again to figure things out. and he is so considerate of me and my feelings, as well as your own. i don't know how to say this," you swallow, closing your eyes as you say the next words. "he knows i’m in love with you and encouraged me to pursue you while still being in a relationship with him. he doesn't mind me loving you and him at the same time. do you understand what i’m saying, hwa?"

he nods slowly, "...yes."

"and as you just said, i don't want to be presumptuous and think that you would be okay with it because it's a lot for someone to consider. it was a lot for me to even think about because i would never want to hurt either of you. if we were to decide that we would like to continue on in a romantic sense, i’ll still be dating yeosang while we're together. and vice versa. i want you to think about what i said to you and consider it before anything else is said, okay?"

"what i decide?" he repeats.

"yes. and then we will take it from there, whatever you decide seonghwa. but i just want to let you know that i love yeosang too much to leave him, if your thoughts start moving in that direction. i'll never break his heart."

“i understand,” he says simply. he digs into his pocket, glancing down at his phone. “your phone number? it’s still the same?”

you nod, and he mimics the movement. he stands up from the swing, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “okay. i, just give me a few days, y/n? just some time to figure this all out.”

“that’s fine,” you smile, and he smiles back. you stand up from the swing and without another word he pulls you into him, hands wrapping around your torso. his body is trembling as you hold him back, his face tucked into the curve of your shoulder. as quick as he holds you he lets go, giving you one last look before leaving the park.

-

seonghwa doesn’t call for over two weeks.

it worries you - he did tell you that he’d contact you soon. it hurt that there isn’t as much of a greeting sent to you, but it makes sense. you confessed to him that you were in love with someone else and said that your partner was okay with it. that could confuse anyone. so despite the circumstances you hold out hope. yeosang comforted you once you told him what happened - made you your favorite soup and desserts. it was a lot when you arrived at his apartment. not on the brink of a breakdown like before, but it took a lot out of you to suddenly have him in front of you. to confront those feelings head on without preparation.

you're resting your head on yeosang's thigh when he messages you. it's pretty simple, just a few words.

hwa: can we meet up? with your partner too.

you look up at yeosang and he's already looking down at you. his focus turns to your phone when you show it to him, brow lifting. “both of us? think he's considering it?”

“maybe,” you look at the message, hovering over the text box. “he could just be letting us know that he doesn't want anything like that.”

“he could do that without me,” yeosang points out. “there wouldn't be any reason for me to come.”

“right,” you sigh. “why am i scared to message him back? are you okay with this, yeosang? seriously okay with all of this?”

“my love,” his hand resting on the side of your face, tilting it ever so slightly. enough for your eyes to settle on his. his thumb slowly strokes your skin. “in what ways could i convince you that i am all for you? that there is next to nothing that would make me change my mind about this? you are my happiness. i have never been more okay.”

you lean into his touch, “you always know what to say.” you open the conversation, texting back.

you: i'm available and he is as well. lmk ♡

hwa: friday? joong told me you didn't work that day and either do i. if yeosang is available too.

you look up at him, and he nods.

you: yep yep, i'll see you. at the old café, right?

hwa: the only place birdie ♡

“done?” yeosang asks, finger still stroking your cheek. you nod, and he hums again, moving off the couch. he moves your head softly to the cushions where he just sat, walking over to the fridge. you never open it, watching as he grabs a blood bag.

yeosang is careful as he opens it. grabbing scissors specifically for this task, sliding it against the plastic. his hands move slow as he pours it into the small container. you never bother him as he does this, pupils dilated, locked in his own world. he never told you to not speak to him, but it felt like you couldn't interrupt the routine of his. he is already on edge whenever he does so.

you flick through the channels, until a loud splat pulls you from your surfing. you stand without thinking twice, running over to the kitchen. red covers the floor tiles, splattered against the fridge and covering the legs of the table. the harsh smell of blood fills your noise as you step back, running to the closet to grab his mop. yeosang grabs a paper towel when you come back with the device. just as you're about to help wipe it up he grabs the pole of it, stopping you in your spot.

“it's blood,” he whispers, eyes closed. “my pretty girl, would you mind going back into the living room?” his words are strained as he says it.

“yeosang-”

“now,” his eyes open, shifting to look at you. you’ve never seen his gaze look so odd. the wood cracks beneath his hold, his nose flared. you waste no time, grabbing your bag off the chair and running towards the exit. yeosang does not stop you, though you are sure he hears your frantic panting as you slip on your shoes, grabbing your coat before running out the apartment. leaving him alone to deal with the mess.

—

it's monday.

three days since you left yeosang alone.

you were petrified.

seeing yeosang that way, almost animalistic as he held himself from doing anything more – any reasonable person would be afraid, right? anyone would run from the situation entirely, not let it escalate further. this is not like a movie, you won't survive because of his adoration for you. you did not see his eyes because he hid them from you. but it wasn't a wild guess. he wasn't himself at that moment.

or, he was. it's just not something you've experienced yourself.

none of this is okay.

as you stare at your phone, his name appearing across the screen, a small heart next to his initials, your own aches. it isn't his fault, what happened. he did what he needed to do. you trusted him enough to control himself. to hold himself back from his own thoughts as the blood filled his nose. but right then, you weren't too sure. you were scared of yeosang.

admitting it only makes you feel worse.

you open his messages, several sent over the past few days.

i’m sorry.

i shouldn't feed when you're around, i made a mistake.

please answer my calls, dearest. please let me explain it to you.

i am afraid that you're afraid of me now.

i love you.

it hurts, reading them over and over. you haven't mustered the courage to listen to the voice-mails. you know yourself. you'd take off running to his apartment, not caring about your own feelings, soothing his own. it'll only lead to something like this happening again. and you're not sure you'll be able to accept the second time. or live, frankly.

“fuck you,” you murmur at yourself, holding your forehead in your hand. “call him, y/n. call him and let him speak to you.”

despite the words said aloud, despite the way your thumb hovers over the dial button, you close it completely. you grab your bag and bus card, locking the doors of your apartment.

you haven't told hongjoong what happened. he'd make sense, he'd tell you that if you're afraid now at something like blood spilling, it'd only get worse. you'll find yourself in a situation you wouldn't want. and he'd be right, partially. you will find yourself again, around him when an incident occurs. and you'll have to decide again, if you trust him enough to stay with him.

you step onto the bus, sending the driver a small smile as you scan your pass, sitting down.

yeosang explained to you simply at the time, to stay away from him when things like this happen. at that moment you weren't thinking, your over helpful nature taking over. it was your fuck up approaching him like that. but there will be times it will happen and he wouldn't be able to tell you to go away.

what then?

—

the door swings open before you get the chance to knock.

yeosang stands there. his clothing is barely on his figure, loosely thrown against his body haphazardly, barely leaving anything to throw imagination. blonde locks every which way, likely due to him running his fingers through it again and again. if it were possible for him to have eyebags you would have seen them, usually brown eyes slightly lighter in color. his eyes flick over you, his hand pulling the door open farther.

“my friend is over,” yeosang's voice is hoarse, blinking slowly. “i smelled you when you entered the building, but he didn't leave quickly enough. he'll be out of here soon.”

you hesitant to enter, already filled with anxiety from this encounter. yeosang's face breaks at the fear in your expression. there is nothing you can do to hide it – open book as always.

“his name is wooyoung, he's a vampire. he's a bit younger than i,” yeosang glances behind him. “but i trust him. he is one of few that i do.”

you trust yeosang. you do, aside from the fear. you nod simply, taking off your shoes and entering.

you spot the vampire packing up his things. he does not turn around as he does so, shoving items into his duffle bag. his appearance closely resembles yeosang's in stature, though he is a bit leaner, a black head of hair. he zips up the bag, throwing the strap on his shoulder as he turns. his beauty is not shocking from what you've experienced with yeosang. moles decorate his skin, slightly tan. his head tilts, eyes traveling over you.

it is not in appreciation.

“you are the human that frazzled yeosang,” his smile is bright and wide, though the warm greeting does not reach his eyes. “interesting that you are quite unremarkable.”

“another word of offense and i'll kill you myself,” yeosang murmurs, eyeing him from his spot near you. “leave, now.”

wooyoung rolls his eyes. “fine. but remember my words, hyung. i'll be around town for a while if you need me. goodbye, human girl. make sure to keep your window locked,” he steps past you, door slamming once he exits his apartment.

the air is solemn between the two of you. you don't blame his friend for insulting you, in fact, you'd probably do the same if places switched. but still, it did sting. quite painfully. you sit where his bag just was, looking down at your hands. it has never been awkward with him. you were able to solve simple arguments with ease this whole time. communication has never been your strong suit, but his ease of speaking helped you gain the confidence to speak up for yourself. though now, it seems as if all the progress has faltered.

“i should have warned you how i am when my mind shifts,” yeosang says softly. you watch as he sits at the kitchen island. he hasn’t looked away from you despite your hesitance to look at him in the eyes. “it was my fault that you ran away.”

“i should have left you alone. i slipped up.”

“you don’t have to blame yourself for this, y/n,” he shakes his head. “i haven’t been around humans this closely. i forget that you aren’t used to how i am when i’m hungry. i could have hurt you if you took my words for granted. i am thankful you listened when you did,” he admits, looking away. “i can control myself well, but i didn’t expect that scent to hit me so strongly. i messed up, you didn’t. you did the right thing.”

“i ignored you for days because i was scared. of you, of what you are,” you hate saying these words to him. you hate that you have to explain how you feel about it. but there’s no other way to continue if you don’t tell him. “it took me some time to let those feelings settle before i had the courage to even appear in front of you. your friend, wooyoung,” his eyes twitch at the name, but you continue. “i can tell he doesn’t like me. it makes sense, since i’ve ignored you for so long now. i’m sorry.”

“you don’t need to apologize, y/n.”

“but i want to. i want to because i can’t lose you, yeosang. i let myself dwell in my emotions again without telling you. i ran away from the problem instead of confronting it,” it is not something you’ve moved on from. “i did it again.”

“i would have went over to your home eventually,” he admits, a sly smile on his lips. “warning you beforehand, of course. but i was never going to let you slip away without an explanation. i know you care too much, and i know i care too much. neither of us would walk away from this without at least a few minutes of conversation exchanged. but,” he rubs the back of his neck. “are you still afraid of me? honesty, please.”

“i don’t know. right now, i’m okay with you being in the same room with me.”

“you haven’t looked at me since you’ve walked in, pretty girl.”

you look up from your hands. his brown eyes warm when they meet yours. you’re not afraid of this yeosang, of the sweet man in front of you. but you are somewhat scared of when he shifts into his feeding mindset. he stands, and you watch as he crouches in front of where you sit. yeosang brushes his fingers across your cheek, hands shaking, eyes flicking between yours rapidly. somewhere in your body is telling you that you should run away. But the look yeosang is giving you stops you from saying anything. he hesitates, touching the corner of your eyelid. Your eyes are moist, and you shiver under his grasp.

"how does it feel?" he asks softly.

"like I should push you away, like, like you're going to hurt me." you admit under your breath, eyes down. he leans, meeting your avoidance.

"i won't hurt you, pretty girl. i won't do anything to hurt you, please know that. do you trust me?"

you nod. he leans forward, eyes moving from yours to your lips. you clutch the chair underneath you, closing your eyes.

*are you scared of me?*

You're ripped from your thoughts, and you open your eyes. yeosang is centimeters away from your lips, his breath fanning your lips. you move one of your hands off from the chair, touching his chest. your fingers stretch out, feeling the smooth skin underneath them. you twist your fingers, trailing the curves of his muscle. your curiosity getting the best of you.

“y/n,” he breathes, chest rising and falling quickly. your mind is telling you to run, but you don't. not now. not after you're this close. you touch his adam's apple, and he gulps. he opens his eyes, their red gaze trained on yours. you stop, shocked at the change.

“i can't, i can't handle being this close to you without…” His words trail off, hands now on the back of your neck, playing with the small hairs. his hand seemed stuck in its place, not daring to move. “if you don't stop, i won't be able to stop myself from fucking you into the chair.”

you drop your hand from him, and he groans at the loss of contact, not moving. He lifts his free hand, touching your thigh. his hand travels up slowly, and you quiver, the warning signs gone within a moment. he stops at the zipper of your jeans. You close your thighs around his grasp, and his lips curve devilishly.

“do you want me to ?” he leans close, his lips brushing against the soft skin by your neck. he trails his tongue along the curve of your neck, biting lightly. “you taste so good.”

you lean into him, his lips moving up your neck, closer to yours. he smiles against your cheek, and you feel the corner of his lips touch yours. your grip on the chair tightens, almost impossibly so. he moves closer, their soft touch brushing against yours.

your eyes lock onto his, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. you know when he’s conflicted, the furrowed brows, the concerned gaze. often you could sense the conflict within him, the fear that something beyond his control might destroy the two of you. at that moment, none of it mattered.

“i want you to want me, y/n," his tone is desperate now, “please tell me you want me.”

his yearning hands in the air. your heart swells with a mix of emotions — desire, a bit of fear.

“i want you, yeosang.”

his lips smile against your skin, anticipation as his lips meet yours. his breaths are heavy, lip soft and cold. the chill sends a shiver down your body, but it is anything but discomfort. his tongue sliding against yours, cool temperature only making your body warm. his fingers hold the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss. soon enough. when your fingers reach up, tighten in his hair in response he grunts and deepens the kiss, spurred on by your initiative. the deeper, heavier kisses pull ragged breaths out of you, and he only stops when he senses your loss of breath.

"I need more," he confesses, his lips and breath flowing over the back of your neck. a hand slips from the back of your neck, his tongue pushes into your mouth, moving earnestly as his other hand unclasps your bra. you moan into his lips as it releases. his cool fingers move down your back slowly, tracing the curve of your spine. the shiver causes you to pull away from his kiss. “already sound so pretty,” he whispers. his other hand lets go of your neck, both sliding along the line of your body, soft grip settling at your hips. his lips are greedy against your skin, light licks and pecks left in his wake. your hands are wrapped around him, holding him close. your legs tremble as he presses you forward into the couch, hovering above you. you can feel as he leaves a mark just off your neck, your fingers flexing, nails gripping his skin as you try to keep yourself steady.

he lifts you easily off the couch, lips against your neck as he guides you into his room. though this is your first time inside, he does not give you a chance to look around, moving over to the futon and laying you down. yeosang barely breaks the kisses between you as he leans over you. his soft hands move over your exposed breasts, gasps escaping your lips. you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to repress the moan that rises up when he kisses your sensitive nipple. your body writhes beneath him as he speaks.

"hands on my shoulders," he says, trailing kisses from your lips to your ear. "keep them there please, pretty girl."

you nod, unable to hold his stare as his gaze stays on you, his hand slipping under the waistband of your sweatpants. your breaths are heavier as his fingers slip between your thighs. he’s hesitant at first, index finger dragging along the lining of your underwear. he watches you carefully as he pulls it to the side, a finger slipping over your clit. your hands tense and you let out a plea of surprise and pleasure, covering your mouth as your eyes go wide. his finger slowly rubs your clit, coaxing warm moans from your lips. his movements are erratic; slower, faster, one finger slipping inside, two.

you're shivering under him, "yeo…"

"let go, pretty," his voice is sweet, “look at me when you do.” your eyes focus on him as best they can. there's a pleased hum that comes from him, your fingers and toes flexing as the pleasure that's been building the last few minutes peaks.

"y/n," yeosang mumbles, his breath tickling your neck. his lips drag across your skin, your chest throbbing in anticipation. You place your hands on his chest, pushing slightly. Despite your heart whining at the loss of contact,

"i want more of you, y/n," he says softly, “and that is so terrifying.”

he sighs, and you stop talking. he pulls your hand, guiding you towards him and letting you fall on top of him. his back is against the bed, his blonde hair scattered across. you hold yourself up with both of your arms, hovering above him. he closes his eyes, his hands gripping your hips softly.

"this desire to please you, it consumes me. i want you to want me the same. But," his fingers slowly dances up your waist, tracing your skin, "you may not ever feel the same as I."

he rolls over, and this time, he cages you beneath him. his pupils dilate, and he looks down at his chest, "if you could only know how hard my heart would beat for you.”.

his shirt drops to the side, and you gasp, seeing the scars that cover his chest. against his skin, the ridges curve and meet each other at odd angles. many are faded over time, but you can see a small glimpse of them. yeosang doesn’t say anything, letting you take in his body. the hurt. you reach out, finger ever so lightly tracing a more prominent one. yeosang sucks in a breath but doesn’t move his eyes from yours. he lets you follow the path. your eyes swell with tears, and he brushes one that falls from your eye.

“please don’t cry,” he says softly, “all of it is from long ago, i’m okay now.” you shake your head, bringing your fingers away from him.

“it looks so painful, yeosang. i’m so sorry.”

yeosang leans down, brushing his lips against yours. he breathes in your gasps, stroking your cheek as your tears fall. your eyes flutter as his tongue slides along your lower lip. his lips move from yours, slowly dragging across your shoulder. despite just moments ago when his fingers were inside of you, you cannot help but let embarrassment sink in as he observes you.

“i cannot believe you’re here in front of me. staring at me, willingly letting me see you,” he’s holding his weight up on his knees to keep it from crushing you. “what have i done to deserve you? who knew that you would allow me to see you in such a vulnerable state?”

“i am just a human, yeosang.”

with that he smiles, hand trailing down the curve of your torso. “divinity would faint underneath your gaze.” he moves closer to you, and you feel his bulge straining against his sweats. if you look close enough, you can see a small wet stain coating the outside of the fabric. his lips continue their slow descent down your body, light pecks each time he lifts up slightly. his hands press firmly into your hips, his nails leaving small indents.

you hesitantly reach out, letting your fingers drag through his hair. he shivers at your touch, eyes darkening as he lets his tongue trail. you clench your thighs at his approach, and he whispers onto your skin. inaudible, you ask him to repeat himself once more.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, finger dipping between your folds once before. It didn’t sound the same as before, but you couldn’t question him at the moment. your breath shakens, mind clouded with only him. he drags his middle finger slowly over your clit, enough to keep you on the edge, but not enough to arouse you further. you sigh in frustration.

you begin to stroke his cock, nails scraping against his skin lightly. he leans his head into the crook of your neck, sucking on your skin as your hand moves up and down his erection. yeosang stops your hand in place. he moves back away from you, kicking his slacks off his legs. you see the scars extend from his chest down his legs, and some disappearing onto his back. he sees the sadness in your eyes, and presses his lips between your brows.

“i’m okay,” he repeats, “i have you, pretty girl. i’m okay.” he wraps his arms around your torso, letting your heartbeat slow. he presses his lips to your forehead once more, before pushing you back down.

you look at him, the moonlight shining on his blonde hair, turning it into a more silver shade. he scared you before, an uneasy feeling each time you stood next to him. now, you couldn’t even remember how it felt.

yeosang looks down at his cock, his erection still prominent against his stomach. he looks back at you.

“you can still say no, and I will stop.”

he waits for your response patiently.

“i won’t say no,” you reply back, and he leans down. his cock presses against your cunt, slipping inside with a low pop. you moan, throwing your head to the side. the low moan that escapes his throat is otherworldly, his girth stretching you to your limits. every stroke to move further in has you gasping, his small whimpers barely heard over the sound of your wetness, his cool cock slipping through.

your hands reach out to touch his shoulders, and he leans closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso. he holds you tight as his cock settles in you, his breaths shaky. you feel his hands wrap around your thighs and his body, forcing your cunt to pull him in deep. you widen your eyes as you feel his cock pulsate, almost shaking inside of you.

after you adjust to his size, he goes slow; long strokes moving in and out of your cunt at a leisurely pace.

yeosang pauses, “may i move faster?”

“please.”

he grins. he slams his cock into your cunt. you gasp, his strokes quick and deep. your muscles ache as he continues his relentless pace. fingers digging into his back, whimpers of pleasure falling from your lips.

“i love you.” you’re voice is barely above a whisper.

yeosang’s pace is already relentless, but when he hears those words fall from your lips, it’s like a switch flicked inside of him. he rears back, and slams. you squeeze tightly, and he rewards you with another slam, filling your whole completely. his pattern is erratic, moving quickly and dragging his cock along your cunt. it’s thick; you can feel every vein and lump that covers him.

the bed strains under his pace, forced away by the strength of his stroking. his lips press against your skin feverishly, his desperation to climax overwhelming. the quickness of his skin rubbing against yours, crotch smacking against you and grinding relentlessly will definitely have you sore in the morning.

yeosang pressing into you, your cunt pulsating as your nails tear the skin of his back. you yelp. the intense sensation of yeosang’s thrusts make you fall into your climax, your moans echoing around the room. your eyes flutter as he pulls you tight against him, and you feel his cock explode with cum strands hitting your walls.

you two sit there for a moment, until yeosang shifts, his body still hugging you but this time, laying on your side. his cock sits in you, slowly softening. he runs his fingers down your cheek, rubbing your skin softly. the temperature of his body pressing against yours is cool, your skin seeking his. he presses his lips to yours lightly.

"we should clean up before we sleep." you say into his skin, though unmoving.

"i'll take care of it." he says, covering you with a nearby blanket as he gets up.

-

he holds you closer to his body, breaths tickling the hairs on your neck. hours have passed, most filled with your combined sounds of pleasure. enough so that you’ve exhausted yourselves sheets in the washer, new ones beneath your freshly showered bodies. he didn’t leave you alone in there either - not that you wanted him to, of course. his stamina is endless, your flushed body against the wall as he pressed into you. the thought of it makes your body warm, legs wiggling slightly against his cool chest pressed against your back. his lips drag against your shoulder, soft kiss brushed against it.

“again?” he whispers. though you cannot see his face from this angle, you can hear the smile in his voice as he says the word.

your body aches at the thought. “yeosang, you’re insatiable.” you murmur, his arms wrapping around your center, pulling you closer into him.

“mm,” he agrees simply. “now that i’ve had you i’m not sure i can let you go that easily. and we have to christen my apartment.”

“that’s a bit blasphemous,” you snort, and he laughs. “what, i’m sure there’s at least a vampire afterlife of some sort.”

“unfortunately for me, pretty girl, if there is one, i doubt i will be experiencing it anytime soon.”

the conversation lulls after that, soft giggles and laughs filling the silence every few minutes or so. the anxiety of being around him before diminished into nothing. his chin rests on the top of your head, the rumbling of his throat as he hums vibrating against you.

“wooyoung wasn’t serious about what he said,” he says after a few minutes of silence. “he worries for me.”

“he should, he’s your friend.”

yeosang pauses for a moment, before continuing. “we were partners a long time ago.”

oh. a long time could mean so much more to him than to you, but you don’t dare interrupt, intrigued on what else he’s going to say.

“the last time it happened was about a little over a hundred years, give or take a few years. we’re well now, but in the beginning it was rough. we used each other for satisfaction every couple of decades. he came to my apartment today and mentioned our past,” yeosang’s fingers slightly tighten. “i told him i have you now. it didn’t upset him, but it did bewilder him. i’m not one to interact with humans the way that others do. i avoid your species completely, moreso out of fear of the unknown. i trust you, but i don’t trust any other human. i’ve only accepted you telling your friend because i have confidence in your decisions. if it were anyone else i’d vehemently deny it. but i digress - wooyoung will not bother you again. he may linger around my home every so often, but he’d never welcome himself into yours. we would need permission to enter, anyway.”

“do you still like him?” it is an awkward question to ask, but you’re curious. you don’t deny that yeosang has feelings for you, but you wonder if his feelings for wooyoung go beyond simply caring for a friend.

“not as you're thinking. i enjoy him being around as a friend. he brings out another side of me. but not as a partner or lover. i think we’ve grown past that part in our relationship. he seems to agree as well. and i do believe he has a partner of his own now.”

“so i have you to myself,” you grin. he cannot see it from the angle you’re resting, but he chuckles, body vibrating to the sound.

“was there ever any room for uncertainty?” he presses his lips against your hair, “are you reassuring yourself because of wooyoung, or our meeting with seonghwa coming up soon?”

how decipherable are your emotions?

“a bit of both. i want us to be okay before anything else is decided. bringing someone into a situation that isn’t stable would hurt us all. and seonghwa is my best friend,” you whisper, “i can’t hurt him again.”

“will you tell him about me?” he asks.

“i would have to if we’re all going to be in this. i can’t keep any secrets from him. and i’m sure he’ll figure it out almost immediately. he picks up on small things quickly.”

“you didn’t,” he teases.

“i just thought you were a freak,” you murmur, a gasp spilling from his lips. “nothing wrong with that!”

“and yet you stayed,” he points out.

you turn around, his hold loosening as you do so. your body faces him, hand reaching up, tracing the lining of his face. you cannot imagine yourself without him now, your identities too entwined for you to separate without hurting each other in the long run. there is little that would have made you leave him.

“yeosang,” your tone is softer, decorated with your complicated feelings. his name holds so much in your mouth each time you say it, a confession, maybe. there is little to separate the two of you — the space between your bodies unseen at first glance. his hand reaches to cup the shape of your face, thumb resting at the corner of your lips. how easy your heart picks up at the simplest touch.

“you torture me,” his lids are heavy, teeth digging into his lip. “i know you tease but my mind wanders.”

“to?”

“i cannot look at you, be with you, think about you, without love. i never really yearned or envied humans before. your lives cave out such a small amount of time it felt insignificant to desire such an existence. and yet i rest with you here, holding a breath that is neverending, afraid of leaving you. my love for you will cause me to crumble and i will never not be thankful.”

his finger catches a tear that falls down your cheek, “if it were only feasible to be with you until the end, pretty girl.”

[nariism]

yours, truly

pair. itoshi sae x gn!reader

content: suggestive but nothing explicitly nsfw! angst (kinda) and comfort, heavy narration, mutual pining (sae is bad at feelings lol), implied childhood friends to lovers

synopsis. sae was always afraid of those three words. he's broken, after all. how do you love when you are unlovable?

wc. 1.4k

i love you should be simple.

unfortunately, loving a man like sae was never meant to be peaceful.

it was always catastrophic—the way fire licks skin, the place where lightning and thunder meet, the expansive sea opening up to swallow you whole.

he was just like that, you suppose. closed off from the world in a way that you could not heal even if you tried your best to kiss the wounds away. he was never the type to open up about feelings. and he's never been sentimental, either.

being touchy-feely and sentimental are signs of weakness. the last thing itoshi sae wants to be called is weak.

the first time he offered up his heart on a silver platter, beating and bloody and raw, it was trampled into the ground. stomped out by the heel of someone who had seen him in his most vulnerable moments. it was just some fling in spain; he's not even sure he can remember their face, but for some reason he wanted to throw up.

he told you about it once in passing, with a coffee in one hand and your groceries in the other (he always insisted on carrying them). and he said it so nonchalantly that you had half a mind to laugh in his face and say "yeah, good one, sae," until he looked at you with a sort of sadness in his eyes that you couldn't forget.

you've quickly learned how to tread on eggshells around him when he was in a bad mood; delicately balancing between his good and bad days—mostly bad, mind you.

you're too patient. too kind to a man so broken. but he's too selfish to care.

he's had his fair share of hardships, maybe more than the average person. definitely more than he could count on all ten of his fingers. and each time life snuffed out whatever little light he had left in him, he became more and more angry.

angry at what? angry at himself. angry at the universe. filled to the brim with this rage that he couldn't tame. it's made him cold and detached and starved for warmth.

it was the natural progression of life that filled him with this greed and hunger. he craved for something to finally be his.

he can't love without it being disastrous anymore. it’s almost as if he needs something to fill in the gaps in his heart where fate has so brutally stolen from him; his career, his dreams, his brother.

he was thirteen when he left japan. he was eighteen when he came home. he was thirteen when he said goodbye to you in that airport. he was eighteen when he finally felt like he could breathe again.

but even with your fingers in his hair and your lips against his and the world finally coming to a halt for the first time since he was a child, he couldn't say it.

i love you should be simple. it should come as easy as a heartbeat. for sae it’s agonizing. what right does a man so unlovable have to give love of his own?

being unlovable is a horrible, lonely thing. that's all he knows. that's all he allows himself to know.

it doesn't help that he's bad at it, too. he really does seem like a monster when he says things he doesn't mean in order to protect his own heart. but what most don't realize is that the world has been terribly, terribly cruel to itoshi sae.

now he's twenty-three and doesn't know how to do anything but love devastatingly. he’s incapable of being gentle.

it's constantly there, in the back of his mind. dancing just behind the barrier of his lips when you give him soft smiles and smooth out his jacket with your hands. the words are pounding on the cages of his throat as you climb into his lap and smear kisses along his jaw, breathy and whiny and sweet. but then he bites his tongue until he can taste the blood, and buries his face between your legs instead.

i love you should be simple. for sae, it's the furthest thing.

it's a complicated swell of emotions in him, melting his usual indifferent facade until he's a puddle in your arms. he's not sure what love really is, if he's being honest. it's not something easily defined in a dictionary. words can’t describe the turmoil inside of him.

whatever it is, he's convinced himself that he's in love with you—that he always has been and he always will be. but everything he touches he sets ablaze. you're the last person he wants to be collateral damage. he's so fucking afraid that everything will be too real once he tells you those three words.

he's lived in reality his whole life. he wants to live in a dream for once. just this once, in your arms. and selfishly.

and you must know that, too, because despite making him dinner every night and sleeping in his bed even though your name is not on the lease, you've never told him you love him, either. but he can tell by the way your fingers brush his knuckles when he reaches out to hold your hand in the middle of the night. and when you kiss him it lingers for a moment longer than would leave him sane.

there are words unspoken with every action: i love you.

and when sae finally cracks, because every part of him has always been brittle, he loves you wholly. destructively. like a flame raging through a forest—bite marks and promises whispered into your skin. there are words buried beneath all that, as well:

i'm sorry. please be gentle with my heart. the world has not.

itoshi sae doesn't know how to be loved. every part of him is rough around the edges. but there's something beautiful in the way you love him without reason. in the way you're so patient when he shuts you out like a child slamming their door.

you were kinder than he could ever be. you had so much love to pour out that he envied it. he remembers growing up and thinking it was ridiculous. now some nights it's all he wants.

sae is unlovable. that's what the world had taught him. but for some reason, it never seems to stop you.

it's supposed to be a sunday night like any other. you're complaining to him about something silly called the "sunday scaries" and how you were currently being put through the ringer at work. it's an english phrase that gets a laugh out of you. he adores it. he adores you.

you're stirring a pot of curry while you speak. he's standing beside you watching. you aren't dressed even slightly, your hair is all over the place. and you're talking about something entirely stupid, putting a name to the feeling of not wanting to go to work tomorrow.

there it is again; the complicated swirling of emotions etched deep in his heart. you deserve something better. you deserve normalcy. and itoshi sae is anything but normal.

and accompanied with this thought, for the first time in his nearly twenty-four years as a mortal, the idea of silence is even more scary than snapping out of this daydream he's living in and saying—

"i love you."

you blink at him, pausing in your stirring. "what?"

"i love you," he says it again. you've always known how to read between the lines with him:

i'm offering all of myself to you and it's fucking terrifying. don't just look at me like that.

he reaches over to turn off the stove because you're staring at him with your mouth opening and closing. and then he rolls his eyes as if he didn't just do the one thing he feared most.

you're not sure how you get pressed up against the counter so fast, head tilted back as he greedily devours your skin like he usually does when he doesn't want to talk anymore. you definitely don't mind.

there's more to the story. more he wants to say. but he's not good with words—never has been. so he only kisses you until you're gasping for air and laughing. until his heart throbs where it sits in his ribcage. until you tell him:

"i love you, too."

i love you is not something simple for itoshi sae. but with you, he's willing to learn.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[gtgbabie0]

Nightmares

{You have a nightmare on the jet and Spencer comforts you}

Hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕

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Nightmares were something that practically comes hand in hand with your job, I mean it was only natural that you would get them. Hotch said himself that he would be more worried if you didn’t get them and you suppose he’s right.

They were never easy to get through, the overwhelming weight that sits against your chest or how your heart seems to completely freeze with fear in your rib cage. You can’t really do anything to stop your own mind from betraying you.

If you had known that one of these particular nightmares would invade your exhausted mind you might’ve thought twice before sleeping on the jet's sofa.

You were curled up, knees tucked towards your chest with Spencer's cardigan draped over you as you slept. Spencer didn’t sleep instead he chose to fiddle with the pack of cards, flicking through them, silently thinking. He would occasionally glance over to you making sure you were okay.

He was observant, he noticed the way your eyebrows pulled together with an almost painful expression, how your lip quivered ever so slightly and his chest tightened at the pitiful whimpers that were muffled behind your clenched teeth.

He’s quick to kneel beside the sofa, rushing to your side. His fingers brush against your warm cheek as he tries to coax you from your nightmare. And he’s glad for your sake that everyone has fallen asleep, not that you should be ashamed, he’s told you millions of times there’s nothing to be ashamed about, but yet the mind is a very complex thing.

He watches in panic as your breathing becomes more and more erratic, and he feels hopeless. There’s nothing he can do but entwine his hand with yours hoping that it would bring you some kind of comfort.

“You’re okay, I’m right here” he whispers, keeping his voice down as he glances over his shoulder.

Emily was resting her head against JJ’s shoulder, both sleeping despite the uncomfortable position. Hotch, Derek even Gideon had all fallen asleep. He couldn’t blame them, tonight had dragged on for what felt like years.

It always seemed to be the same thing, your nightmares. Running towards something and never getting there fast enough and recently it had been Spencer that plages your mind. His voice calls for you weakly somewhere within the abyss and to try so hard to get to him, but your attempts are fruitless, and all you were met with are horrid images of him.

You gasp, scrambling to sit up with your shaky hand against your chest, your eyes brimming with tears as you look down at Spencer, sighing in relief, he's okay. He sits next to you a cautious smile etched onto his lips.

“I’ve got you- you’re okay,” he says as he holds you close, his arms wrapped securely around your body as you take deep breaths, your head resting against his shoulder.

He can feel your heartbeat and the way your shoulders shake as you try to stifle the cries that fall from your lips, his hand soothes the expanse of your back as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Spence, I- I can’t- I couldn’t” Your voice is hoarse and strained, and the sound sends pain ricocheting throughout his chest and it only makes him hold you tighter.

He presses a delicate kiss to your temple before he pulls away slightly, his hands gently grasping at your forearms as he studies your teary face.

“I’m okay, see? I’m right here” he promises taking your shaky hands, bringing them to cup either side of his face, "We're almost home". He knows your fears and how they seep into your subconscious mind, most importantly how they all seem to revolve around him.

It hurts him to know that he’s the cause of your worries and it hurts him even more knowing that he can’t really do anything, but what he can do is comfort you when they get bad, to bring you back to shore and hold you close to him, and he does without complaint. He loves taking care of you.

You nod your head as your thumb grazes along his cheek. Your eyes scan over his face, “I’m sorry” you whisper, resting your hands on his lap as he holds them, his thumb smoothing over the curves of your knuckles.

He looks at you with slight confusion, “No, you don't have to apologise- it’s what I’m here for” The compassion that bleeds into his tone and the way his gentle eyes never leave yours makes your chest tighten.

Spencer Reid was the kindest person you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, he had so much love to give. You were so happy that he shared his love with you.

He smiles as he wipes away the stray tears, “I love you Spencer” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

“I love you too” he presses a loving kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away. He taps his lap motioning for you to rest your head and you do so, enjoying the way he gently plays with your hair.

He looks down at you with love-filled eyes, “I’m right here- with you, I promise, I’m not going anywhere” he tells you, watching how you fight the sleep that hangs over you like a storm cloud.

You decide to trust his words, letting yourself relax into his touch as he drapes his cardigan back over your shoulders, and you both soon find yourselves in a dreamless sleep.

The jet will land soon, and you’ll both be woken by the teasing words of your friends. If you both knew that then maybe the pair of you would’ve thought twice before falling asleep on the jet's sofa together.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[shaybreezy-17]

More Than Friends (Zoro x Reader)

some more short lil one shot action of the worlds sexiest greatest swordsman 😉😋. enjoy! <3

(*TW: explicit/sexual language/content*)

It had been almost a month since the day you confessed your feelings to Zoro. Things went downhill between the two of you after that…

Since then, he had completely shut you out of his life, avoiding you any chance he got. He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with you, besides during meals, and sometimes not even then.

You casually walked around the Sunny before deciding that Zoro was probably in the Crows Nest.

As you made your way up the ropes and the ladder, you felt your heartbeat speed up.

You slowly crept behind him, hoping you wouldn’t have to face him just yet.

He had his back turned to you, drenched in sweat, lifting a loaded barbell.

You mustered up the courage to speak once he put the barbell down, “H-hey, Zo?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice. “I was just finishing my workout. Gonna head out now.” He began to put the workout equipment away, never looking in your direction.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought hard to hold them back, biting your lip so hard you began to taste blood. Not again…

“Oh, okay.” You paused, “I was just, uh, hoping that we could talk about what I told you a couple wee-“

He cut you off, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “We don’t, there’s no need.”

You stood there. There really was no getting through to him…

You felt a lump form in your throat but you mustered up the courage to retaliate a sour response. “Alright well, I just thought I should let you know that I no longer like you so you don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

Without even uttering a reply, he walked right past you towards the exit. Tears began to fall down your face the minute your face was out of his sight, but you remained silent so he wouldn’t hear you cry.

He disappeared down the hatch, presumably down the ladder. Without turning around, or moving a muscle, you let yourself go.

You began to sob violently as no one would hear your pain and suffering up here in the Crows Nest anyway.

An array of things went through your mind. You felt so ridiculous for exaggerating like this, but it was how you felt. Weeks of bottling up the sadness of not being by Zoros side like you were as friends forced this reaction out of you and you couldn’t help it…

You wished you’d never tried to be more than that, just friends.

You buried your face in your hands, praying the visual of pure darkness would silence your thoughts.

As you tried to catch your breath, you felt a pair of calloused hands touch your bare shoulders. You were too afraid to turn around, shutting your eyes in fear. You felt so embarrassed that someone might’ve heard your little breakdown a moment ago…

A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your body, as you were being enveloped in a hug from behind.

“Do you really like me that much?” A voice spoke huskily. Not just any voice. You recognized it anywhere- Zoros.

You felt butterflies explode in your stomach for a moment before you remembered he’d been ignoring you for almost a month…

Wiggling out of his grasp, you turned around and shoved him with all your might. He didn’t move a muscle…

“What was that for?” He clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded. “Where’s this hostility coming from?”

You shoved him again. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” And again. “Since you didn’t seem to hear me the first time, I said I don’t fucking like you anymore. Not after you pushed me away all month.”

He grabbed your wrists. “Oh come on! It was like two weeks.”

“Three to be exact!” You retorted, clear frustration in your tone.

“I was gonna say “who’s counting?” but clearly you were, stalker.” He smirked, still grasping your wrists.

You shook your arms, trying to break free, to no avail. “I’m not even stalking you, idiot! Now let me go, you’re hurting me.”

The smirk disappeared off his face and he immediately let you loose. He began to rub your wrists, muttering a quick “sorry”.

“Just leave me alone, okay?” You spoke softly, indicating your newfound defeat. “I didn’t need you to come back here out of pity when you heard me crying.”

His eyes met yours, a pained expression on his face. “Y/N… I’m just not good with this sort of stuff, feelings or whatever, but I didn’t come out of pity. I came back because I care, stupid.”

“Neither am I, Zo.” You replied, cupping his cheek. “I guess I just wanted to get better at it with you but you didn’t even give me a chance, dork.”

“Look, even if I did feel the same way about you and wanted to give this a shot, I’m lost…” His cheeks turned a light shade of pink at your touch and a sense of desperation filled his tone. “Tell me what I need to do, Y/N.”

The neediness in his voice was enough to push you over the edge. “For now just kiss me, you idiot.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and his arms instinctively found your waist, pulling you in for his lips to meet yours. He kissed you aggressively, showing your tongue no mercy. You didn’t know he could express this much passion for something other than sword fighting, unless the one going on in your mouth still counted.

Oblivious to you, Zoro had been actively avoiding you because when you admitted your feelings for him, you sparked something within him for you he didn’t know was there.

When you told him you liked him, he pondered on how much time the two of you had been spending lately. He couldn’t help but realize that he was happy whenever you were around whether it was the two of you sharing a drink or two, or the surge of confidence your presence gave him whenever you watched him workout because he couldn’t bare to let you watch him fail a set.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air. It had made you both absolutely feral. Staring into each others eyes, he picked you up and backed you up against the wall, letting you wrap your legs around his torso for extra support.

“You can call me a stalker again, but I might’ve dreamed of this moment once or twice…” You chuckled.

He grinned, thinking about how he dreamt and fantasized about you an ungodly amount of times throughout these three weeks. “Yeah, well, you were in a few of my nightmares. Tried to kill me every single time.”

“Oh shut up, dick.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I knew you liked me the minute you let me get you in the bath.”

“I-Eh?” He glared at you in genuine confusion, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You despise baths but you’d take one with me whenever I asked,” You smirked and leaned in inches away from his face, “That’s when I knew I had ya.”

He leaned in even closer. Your lips were practically touching and the anticipation was sending waves of adrenaline through your body.

His gaze deepened, “Yeah? Well I knew I had you a moment ago, when you were sobbing over me.”

“Nothing you say can knock me off my high horse when I’m giving you a raging boner right now.” You sassed back.

His face went from pink to red as a tomato. “H-how the hell? I’m literally carrying you around my waist, there’s no way you felt that!”

“That kiss we just had.” You giggled, finally having the courage you needed to catch him off guard, “That and- just thought you’d wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to right now."

Without hesitation, he licked his lips as he began to fumble with his waistband, holding you up with his other hand.

“Wha-What are you doing?” You stuttered nervously, looking down at the hard penis that sprung out of his pants. “We really doing this?!”

Your stomach turned in knots at the nervousness, but you felt your pussy getting wet at the sight of it, nonetheless.

“You know me, I never miss out on a good challenge.” He began to lift up your dress, letting his arousal towards you overcome him, “Oi, got any panties under there?”

You shook your head ‘no’, silently thanking your past self for being delusional enough to ditch the undergarments on the off-chance that Zoro came to terms with his undying love for you and decided to fuck your brains out… which was actually about to happen now…

“Good.” He flashed you one last devilish grin as he aligned his thick cock directly below your already soaking pussy, slowly lowering you on to him, “They would’ve just got in my damn way.”

[bonny-kookoo]

so how did someone older jk and oc celebrate new years? A midnight kiss?? :)))

Warning for suggestive stuff? It's not quite new years celebration but I honestly started to drift off way too much for a drabble haha

"Oh no!" You gasp out, earning Jungkook's immediate attention as he looks towards where you're standing in his kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He asks, while you hide your face behind your hands. "Darling?" He questions, as he gets up to walk towards you, a letter opened on the counter.

"Oh god I'm so sorry-" you tell him, visibly shaken. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I- I think I thought I was home and opened it-" you rambles, hands shaking. "I didn't even read it, I swear, it was just-"

"Darling, hey, look at me." He tells you, turning you away from the scene of the crime to instead fully face him, hands on your shoulders. "You're fine." He states, makes sure to emphasize, as you go through the same steps you both go through every time things like these happen.

Breathe. This is Jungkook. Nothing is going to happen.

"There we go." He chuckles, squeezing your shoulders for a split second before he lets go. "What is it about?" He wonders easily, taking the letter to read it.

"I.. I don't know." You mumble, still ashamed. "I just.. read the first line and realized that it's not addressed to me- I really don't know why I even opened it-" You again state in defense, but his hand reaches out to pull you closer holding you gently by your waist.

"Its about that new year's celebration. I told them I wouldn't go this year.." he simply sighs, before he throws the letter and envelope away. "And it's understandable. You've been spending quite a lot of time here recently- I'll take it as a compliment that you feel like this is home." He jokes easily, hands on your hips as he grins at you.

"Why- if there's an event you're invited to you should go though?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"I want to spend it with you." He answers. "Except if you'd like to go with me to that event?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"I.. uhm.. would that even be.. appropriate?" You ask quietly. "Given.. you know. The age difference and all.." you worry, but he shakes his head.

"Its not an issue to me at all, if that's what worries you." He shrugs. "We're both adults. And trust me- our age difference wouldn't be the biggest. One of the investors has a wife almost twenty-five years younger!" He laughs. "Or does it bother you?"

"No, not.. anymore." You admit. "It used to. It felt.. a little intimidating. Sometimes it still does but not as much." You explain.

"I'm glad then." He hums towards you. "So?" He questions. "If you'd like to go, we can. I usually don't like events like these, but if you're there I'd go in a heartbeat." He flirts without realizing it.

"I don't even have.. proper attire. I bet those things are super fancy.." you worry, but he just grins.

"I mean, we still got time. I could call up someone, his wife owns a clothing label, we could go and get something fit for you." He shrugs easily.

"Jungkook, no way!" You gasp. "That.. already sounds way too expensive." You worry.

"Not really. I can just tell her to not mention any cost and you'd never know." He impishly grins, as your back rests against the kitchen counter. "Though.. I'd honestly rather take your.. measurements myself." He purrs, leaning in for a teasing peck.

"I'm just.. that's not.." you stammer, easily overpowered by his recently growing confidence in his pursuit of you. Its clear that he's starting to become comfortable with you to the point of feeling confident in his actions, even in how he reassures you whenever you tend to fall back into old fears.

"Oh but it is. I know exactly what she'd need for a pretty dress." He hums. "And while I already think I know your body like my own.."

"I think I need to make sure I got the measurements correct."

[grapejuicestyless]

I’ll Love You, Forever.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst

Summery: Conrad wants to become a doctor. Why should you stop that?

The platform near the train was nearly empty. It was so early, not even the early risers were up yet. It was the first train of the day but it was nearly night with how close the clock was to midnight.

My left hand clutches onto my coat, holding the collar between my knuckles tightly. I have too many shirts on. A tank-top, and a sweatshirt thats grey with the the words, Brown University, scribbled across the chest. The bottoms of my jeans are too long, so the dew wets the hems until they are soaked around my ankles.

“I’m proud of you.” I tell him, watching how his face, previously turned towards where the train will inevitably pull up turn to look at my face. He hangs his head, he’s taller and the wetness from his hair leaves tiny droplets on my skin.

I don’t really mind this. Our clothes clinging to our bodies because we ran through the passing rainstorm. How its so cold this winter that our fingers sting and our noses are numb.

“I want to help people.” He says it like he needs a reason. Like he’s thinking of staying. But he won’t, I wasted the last of my gas to get here. My car is stranded in the parking lot.

“I know.” I can feel his heartbeat under his coat when I put my hand over his chest. I can feel the cold nipping at his skin when I place it over his cheek.

When the cry of a horn sounds in the distance, he becomes aware just how limited our remaining time. He doesn’t understand just how little we have left though. I know it, but he never will. That’s how I want it.

He looks away from me, and the sigh that releases from his mouth is shaky.

“Don’t be discouraged. I’m right here. Promise.” When he looks back at me, he’s lowered himself even lower. Partly by himself, and partly at the mercy of my guiding hand that’s slipping from his cheek to the nape of his neck.

While we stand like this, I let my lips place their mark on his forehead. His eyes are fluttering shut, but I can’t find it in me to let the darkness in. I have so much time to wander within in, befriend it. I want to cement this moment in my memory forever.

I won’t be here when he gets back, I know that. I knew it when he first called me in last December talking about transferring to a medical program. I knew it in August when he told me he was going to Stanford. And I know it now that the train is pulling up, ready to take him halfway across the world.

“I’m not angry at you for leaving.” I tell him. I know he doesn’t quite get what I mean. He thinks of it one way, but within the next few months, I hope he’ll understand what my words really meant. I hope my disappearance won’t discourage him from his dreams. I hope he becomes the greatest doctor to ever live. I want that so badly for him, I might fool myself into thinking I want it more.

“Do great things, okay?” When he finally stands straight, the doors have opened. The seats are emptier than the train station.

He waves goodbye and whispers back, “I love you.” And his eyes have never looked so vibrant.

“I’ll love you, forever.” I whisper back, letting the doors consume him. He sits on the empty seat directly across from me. His eyes trace me until I’m gone. I feel them leave, I feel him leave.

I don’t know why I never told him. Maybe it was because if I told him I was dying, I knew he wouldn’t have gone. He wouldn’t have left my side, just like how he never left Susannah. I don’t want him to drive for miles, wondering if I’m still breathing.

He’ll hold it against me forever. How I never let him say goodbye, never let him try. I hope he knows just how happy I am for him. Even if he can’t see it.

I made him promise to do great things, but he already has. He gave me the best life I could’ve asked for. So I feel no regret leaving it like this. I feel no pain when I go.

[sequinsmile-x]

Physical Touch

He usually loved when his wife touched him, but it was slowly driving him crazy.

Part of the Love Languages series

-x-

Hi friends!

Well...I should have expected that the smut fic would win the poll by a landslide and here we are haha

I really hope you enjoy this <3 it's soft, smutty and full of Aaron just...pining for his wife. What more could you want on a Thursday evening?

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’d known she was tactile long before they got together. 

Aaron had watched her for years, always ready to place a comforting hand on someone’s shoulder or pull them into a hug. More than once he’d found himself wishing she’d do the same for him, the embargo they’d seemingly placed on physical contact between them a two-way thing, something they both upheld, as if they knew it was a line they could not cross. 

He’d held her hand once before they became them. It was when she was in hospital, before she was stable enough to be moved to Bethesda. She’d still mostly been out of it, pain and medication rolling through her in a way he was also familiar with. He’d held her hand, squeezing it tightly as he wore the suit he’d worn to her funeral, a bitter taste on his tongue as he apologised to her. She’d told him since that she thought she’d dreamt it, that she’d pulled him out of her imagination, the warmth of his hand around hers something she’d made up in some strange attempt to self-soothe. 

He’d always known she was tactile, but being in a relationship with her was a whole other level he hadn’t been anticipating. She touched him all the time, ranging from subtle moments, like her fingers trailing over his when she passed him a coffee or a case file, or squeezing his knee under the table when they were at Dave’s for dinner, to more obvious moments. She was a snuggler, something he would never have put money on before their first date. She would wrap herself around him like a vine whenever they were alone, her arm linked through his and her head on his shoulder as they sat on the couch, or she could lay half on top of him in bed, her hand sneaking under his t-shirt as she sought his warmth from the source, falling asleep to the comfort of his heartbeat. 

He loved it. He loved that his wife expressed her love that way, that she’d push his hair out of his face as she told him he needed a haircut, that she also loved their children in the same way. It’s one of the reasons he knew Jack and Violet always sought her out for comfort, her embrace was his place of safety too, something so calming about something as simple as her cheek against his shoulder that he wondered how he'd ever lived without it. 

He usually loved it, but it was slowly driving him crazy. 

He’d dislocated his shoulder in a takedown of an unsub two months ago. The injury had torn his rotator cuff and he’d needed surgery, a simple relocation of his shoulder joint not enough. He could still remember the fear in Emily’s eyes when he’d come round from surgery, how she was barely holding herself together, her grip on his wedding ring that he’d had to take off so tight the imprint lasted for hours. His shoulder had been immobilised with strict instructions on how to make sure he healed properly, and the only time his wife ever paid attention to medical advice to the letter was when it was for him or one of the kids, which had led to one, unfortunate, side effect. 

Aaron hadn’t had sex with his wife in two months. 

He missed her. She was right by his side, but he missed her. Missed the intimacy that had always been an important part of their relationship. Every tiny thing about her was getting to him the longer they went without having sex. Her beauty was bordering on obscene, as it always had, and his breath would catch in his chest whenever he looked at her, or if she walked by and he caught a sniff of her perfume, the scent he knew was simply her always following just afterwards. Even watching her with Jack and Violet, watching how good a mother she was filled his gut with want, with the desire to have more children with her as soon as possible. 

The touching was, however, by far the worst. Every time she touched him he felt his skin fizz, sparks set off just by the feel of her skin against his, and he was close to losing his mind. 

He hears a knock on his office door and he looks up, a smile immediately breaking out across his face when he sees Emily standing in the doorway, her arms crossed as she casually leans against the door frame. 

“Hey honey,” she says, stepping into the office, “Are you ready to go? We, and by we I mean you, promised Vi we’d pick up some dessert on the way home.” 

He chuckles as he thinks about his 2, almost 3, year old daughter. She was a mini Emily through and through, right down to the big dark brown eyes he couldn’t say no to. He stands up and starts to put some paperwork in his briefcase, and he raises his eyebrow at his wife as he looks up at her. 

“You say that like you can say no to her,” he quips, stepping out from behind his desk and walking over to her, quickly stamping his lips against hers.

She hums and kisses him again, her hand hooking around the back of his head, making him shiver as she scratches lightly at his scalp, “We both know I’m the bad cop at home, baby,” she says, kissing him once more before she pulls back, “One of us has to be.” 

He laughs, the sound dying in his throat when she reaches out and places her hand on his chest, rubbing gently at the lapel on his jacket. He can feel her touch through his clothes, her skin somehow burning him through his jacket and his shirt, and he tenses before he can control it. Emily frowns at him, her eyebrows pinching together as she pulls back. 

“You had some lint on you,” she explains, pressing her lips together as she looks him up and down, her eyes slightly narrowed as she tries to figure out what's wrong, “Aaron are you okay? Is your shoulder bothering you?” 

It’s not a lie, not really, because his shoulder was sore. A now familiar ache that got worse throughout the day, radiating outwards from the new scar he bore. It was easier than explaining to her how he was feeling, less embarrassing than admitting he wanted her so much he was thinking about pushing everything off his desk right here and now. 

There were still two weeks until the doctor’s initial advice would run out, and he knew it was going to be the longest two weeks of his life. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling softly at her, rolling his shoulder slightly, “It just aches a bit.” 

She hums and places her hand on it, her concern deepening when he tenses again, “How about when the monsters are in bed I give you a massage?” 

He falters for a moment, sure that would be his undoing, but instead, he nods and decides to deflect as he places his hand on her lower back and guides her out of his office. 

“Why do you get to call them monsters, but I don’t?” He asks, knowing exactly what her answer is going to be. 

She scoffs playfully and looks up at him, her eyes narrowed, “Because one of them came out of me.” 

___

By the time they get the kids to bed, he thinks she’s forgotten. The evening had passed them by with homework, bath time, and bedtime stories, a wonderfully normal evening they both once thought they’d never get. 

He walks into their bedroom to find her kneeling on the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts and a tiny pair of shorts sticking out from underneath, with a bottle of lotion in hand.

She smiles at him, popping open the lid on the lotion as she beckons him over, “Come on, honey,” she says, “I promised you a massage.” She sees the slight hesitation before he walks over, and she hides a smirk by clearing her throat. He sits on the edge of the bed and she rolls her eyes, placing the lotion on the bed before she runs her hands over his shoulders, her fingers meeting at his neck as she starts to undo his shirt buttons, “This works better if you don’t wear your shirt.” 

He nods and helps her get his shirt off, grateful that he’d slipped his tie off when he got home earlier, and he lets the shirt fall to the ground. She puts some of the lotion into her hands and rubs them together before she touches him, warming her palms and the lotion at the same time. 

It’s only when she starts spreading it on his skin, her touch firm but gentle as she pushes her thumbs into his bad shoulder, that he realises she’s using her lotion. One that had a slight spice to it, a scent of cinnamon that followed her everywhere that was now permeating into his skin. He groans, his teeth clenched as he breathes her in, widening his legs as his pants get tighter. 

She frowns, ready to pull away just in case she is hurting him, but then she looks over his shoulder, her lips pressed together as her cheeks flush when she sees the tenting of his pants. She makes a snap decision, wiping her palms on her shirt to get rid of the excess lotion before she climbs out from behind him. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, his eyebrow raised as she kneels on the floor in front of him, her hands already on his belt, undoing it quickly. 

“Come on, Aaron,” she says, unbuttoning his pants and moving them and his boxers just far enough to free him, “It hasn’t been that long,” she says, smiling in a way that seemed far too innocent for where her hand was, “I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me,” she says, pumping him up and down, “Let me help.” 

He nods, not needing any convincing, and his eyes drift shut as she leans forward and takes him in her mouth. He wraps his fists around the sheets of the bed so tightly he thinks they might rip. 

“Fuck, Em. You’re so good at that,” he says, unable to stop himself from thrusting into her throat, the pressure that had been building him in for weeks threatening to blow, “So fucking good.” 

She leans forward until her nose briefly presses against his pubic bone before she pulls back, sucking in a breath before she moves in again, bobbing her head up and down, his chorus of groans her reward. She has to press her thighs together for some friction, so turned on by seeing and hearing him like this that she briefly forgets why it had been so long since they’d done this in the first place. She can feel him start to lose control, his thrusts getting messier, but he stops her, his hand on her shoulder as he encourages her backwards, a desperate look in his eyes. 

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the spit that had connected her lip to the tip of him and she tilts her head, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, pushing his hands through her hair that he’d clearly messed up, unaware that he’d even grasped it, “I just want to be with you.”

She smiles devilishly, her tongue pressed into her cheek, chasing the taste of him from it, “You are with me.” 

He rolls his eyes at her. He’d missed this too, the ease that came with being with her like this, the familiarity to it. It could be rough, passionate. Tearing each other’s clothes off. Or it could be soft. Full of love and hands pressed together as they showed each other how much they loved each other. 

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he says, and she smiles and nods, standing up from where she’d been kneeling. She pulls his pants off the rest of the way and then stands up, ready to straddle him, her desire making her dizzy. It’s only when she leans in to kiss him, her gaze briefly lingering on the new scar on his shoulder, and everything comes back into sharp focus.

“Wait,” she says breathlessly, pulling away from him, “We shouldn’t do this, your doctor-”

“Sweetheart,” he cuts her off, barely recognising his own voice because of how thick it is with desire, rough and gravelly as he stares at her, “You started this.” 

She scoffs, “I started this? You’re the one who got an erection when I just barely touched your shoulder.” 

In any other circumstance, he’s sure he’d laugh. It was so like her to try and start an argument in the middle of sex it made him fall in love with her even more, a feat that always seemed impossible until it happened. He pulls her closer, grateful not for the first time this evening that it wasn’t his dominant shoulder that had been injured, “Because you’re so fucking gorgeous I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

She swallows thickly and looks him up and down, desire sparking under her skin. It had been a long two months for her too, her frustration at not being able to have him so intense she’d yelled at Derek twice in the last week alone when he hadn’t deserved it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly.  He smiles softly, the pent-up, overwhelming, need for her fading for a moment as he reaches out and cups her cheek, tucking some of her unruly hair behind her ear.

“You never could.” 

She thinks about it for a moment before she nods leaning forward to stamp her lips against his before she briefly gets off the bed, dropping her shorts to the ground, “Lean up against the headboard.” 

He does as he’s told, and she pulls a pillow from her side of the bed and slots it between his bad shoulder and the headboard, smiling softly when he stamps a grateful kiss against her lips. She sits on his lap, groaning as she notches over him, a noise he returns when he feels just how wet she is. 

“Fuck, Em,” he says, his hands on her hips as she pulls her t-shirt off, “I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Yeah, well” she breathes out, rocking her hips over him, “You’re not the only one who’s been missing this,” she says as she wraps her hand around him to guide him into her. 

They both groan as she sinks onto him, the familiar stretch making them both breathless for a moment. 

“Oh fuck,” she says, her eyes rolling back as her head falls backwards for a moment, her hands on his thighs as she clenches around him, the breath stolen from her lungs as she adjusts to him, “God you feel so good.” 

“You do too, sweetheart,” he grunts out, encouraging her closer, tugging at her until they are chest to chest, bare skin pressed against each other as he rests his forehead against hers, “You feel so fucking good.” 

She cups his cheeks, her hands on either side of his face as she keeps her forehead against his and starts to rock her hips against his, a sound she could only call a relieved chuckle escaping her as he meets her thrust for thrust. 

They fall into a familiar rhythm, a sense of desperation woven through it, their eyes locked together as they both move, lost in the feel of each other. Eventually, he feels her hips start to stutter, and her thighs tremble around him. He reaches between them with his good hand and rubs circles on her clit, smiling as she mewls at him, the sound close to obscene as she buries her face in his neck, just about able to remember their children were sleeping down the hall.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, increasing the pressure on her clit, feeling his own orgasm within reach, “Come for me. Let me feel it.” 

She clenches her teeth tightly as she comes, stopping herself from screaming out as her hips buck against him. A spark goes off in her belly and spreads through her entire body, every nerve ending on fire as it washes over her as she moans his name. He isn’t far behind her, the way she clenches around him as she comes the final push he needs, and he buries his face in the top of her hair, her name lost in the dark locks stuck to her with sweat. 

They fall into silence, just the sound of their heavy breathing surrounding them. She’s the first to pull back, smiling lazily at him as she kisses him quickly before she pulls back to look at him, checking him over as if she’s looking for damage. She looks at the scar, placing her hand over it as she still tries to catch her breath, “I hope we didn’t make it worse.” 

“It’s fine, baby,” he says, kissing her temple and then her cheek, encouraging her to turn her head so he can capture her lips in a kiss, “Besides, since when were you such a stickler for doctor’s orders?” 

She playfully narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t pull back, not wanting to put any space between them yet, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Right,” he says jokingly, stamping a kiss against her lower lip, stuck out in a pout she’d always deny, “So it wasn’t you who I caught trying to drive to the store less than two weeks after she had a c-section? My mistake.” 

She blows out a breath and shakes her head at him, her cheeks somehow flushing even though the blush from her orgasm had never gone away, “That was totally different.” 

He chuckles and kisses her, properly this time, and he smiles as he pulls back, “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” 

-x-

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[eddysocs]

Fluff Dialogue Prompts

You may mix and match these prompts with ones on the same or different prompt lists you find on my blog when making requests. Context for the prompt(s) is always welcomed and encouraged, but not required.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

"I can't smile at you, I'm mad."

"Can you sing to me?"

"How do you always know exactly what I need?" "I pay attention."

"I could listen to you all day."

"For me, being happy fortunately coincides with making you happy."

"I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."

"I can hardly wait to put a ring on that finger."

"Stop that broody look and come over here."

"You're very lucky I love you."

"Move in with me."

"You should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away on a regular basis."

"Want to go to a museum with me and make all the paintings jealous with your beauty?"

"I might be an organ donor, but you really shouldn’t take my heart so soon."

"Have I told you I love you yet today?"

"Thank you for everything you do for me."

"You hugged me like your personal pillow."

"Have your eyes always been that dark?"

"Your body feels like home to me."

"If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

"I will be happy wherever as long as it is by your side."

"What did I do to deserve such a sweet wife?"

"You're the only one who gets to call me that, you know."

"You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply."

"You're always so flirty." "Just with you."

"How long have you had this planned?" "Since the moment I fell in love with you."

"Nothing makes me happier than making you smile."

"I would marry you again in a heartbeat."

"You asked if I have regrets. The answer is no, because somehow, everything I did led me to you."

"I do love you, you know. Even if I'm shit at showing it."

"See, I can play nice sometimes."

"I’ve been in love with you since the day we met."

"Did you just call me (pet name)?"

"Oh, for the love of— come over here and let me fix that."

"I honestly didn’t take you for such a gentleman."

"Your eyes…I get lost in them sometimes."

"He's/She's so pretty I think I’m going to faint."

"You should play with my hair some more."

"Well, hello, sleeping beauty. You fell asleep on me."

"Just say the word. You know I’d do anything for you."

"I heard you liked (thing), so I bought you this."

“You’ve got to go home.” “You are my home.”

"You just have this glow about you."

"I love your laugh."

"You look your cutest like this." "No I don’t, I just woke up." "I know what I said."

"You are constantly finding new ways to surprise me."

"I can keep you company until you fall asleep."

"Can I try some of your food?" "Of course. Open wide."

"This isn’t just a(n) [object], it’s a promise."

"Come back to bed."

"I think my family/friends really liked you. Maybe more than they like me."

"I can’t stop thinking about you."

"Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

"Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved."

"Aww, you remembered." "Of course I did."

"This is my boyfriend/girlfriend/fiancé(e)/husband/wife everyone!"

"If you don’t want to spend the night in an empty house, you could always come over to mine."

"One date, that’s all I’m asking for. One night to let me show you how good we could be together.”

"I'll always make time for you."

"Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

"How about a kiss before I go?"

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49

Steve and Eddie stare at each other, wide-eyed, for a second before jumping into action.

Steve reaches the door before Eddie, throwing it open and running down the hall, Eddie on his heels.

He opens his door and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees El alone in his bed, writhing and crying, clearly caught in a nightmare. “El,” he murmurs, walking closer to the bed so he can sit on the edge. “Wake up, Ellie. It’s okay. It’s just a dream.”

“N-no,” El whimpers, letting out another small scream. “Please!”

“El,” Steve says again, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream, it can’t hurt you now. Wake up, Ellie. You’re okay.”

Another violent twist and she’s sitting up with a gasp, throwing her arm out to the side and causing Steve to slam into the wall. He lets out a groan on impact, the air knocked out of his lungs, but does a quick check and seems to be okay.

He gets up—carefully, with Eddie’s help—and walks over to the bed again, where El’s looking at him with saucer-wide eyes. “I’m s-sorry,” she whimpers, tears on her cheeks for an entirely different reason now.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at her and opens his arms, offering a hug, which she immediately burrows into.

He passes a hand over her head and tugs her in tighter. “Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about? It can make it easier to go back to sleep.”

Hot tears begin falling on his neck. “Papa,” she whispers, and he lets out a harsh breath as quiet sobs start up again.

“Oh, Ellie,” he murmurs, rocking them from side to side. “You’re okay. I’m right here, he can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him. I’ve got you, okay?”

She nods, but her grip doesn’t get any lighter. Steve looks up at Eddie with an apologetic expression. “Go to bed,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. I’m gonna stay with her tonight.”

El moves her head enough so she can see who he’s talking to, then pops her head up even as tears fall from her eyes. “No,” she sniffles. “He can stay.”

Eddie hesitates in the doorway, looking between El and Steve, who’s cupping her cheeks with his hands. “You’re sure? He can go back to the guest room, I’m happy to stay here if you want me.”

She adamantly shakes her head. “I want him, too.”

Eddie steps into the room with a small smile. “The lady has spoken, Stevie, I think it’s smart we listen to her.”

Steve chuckles. “I think you might be right. You’re okay with staying?”

“Why of course I am!” He says jovially. His eyes are more serious, though, and they’re telling Steve that yes, he really is okay with it.

Eddie turns to El with a small, mischievous smile on his face. “Steve’s a pretty good hugger,” he starts, “but I’ve been told I’m not too bad myself. And I’ve got a secret magic nightmare eraser that my Uncle Wayne taught me. You wanna test it out?” He asks, arms out in a suggestion of a hug.

She considers it for all of five seconds before nodding and moving over to Eddie, letting him wrap his arms around her. “Okay,” Eddie says, pulling her into a tight hug and nuzzling at her neck until she giggles and tries to squirm away. “How about we all lay down together?”

El nods, so Eddie situates them with El between him and Steve, so they can both hug her if she decides she wants it. “You comfy?” He checks, smiling when she nods and burrows further under the covers.

“You said you have a secret magic nightmare eraser.”

“I do,” Eddie nods. “And it works so good.” He pretends to look around before stage-whispering to El, “But if it doesn’t work, it’s Uncle Wayne’s fault.”

El giggles again, and Eddie feels his heart skip a beat. She’s so little with such a weight on her already. He meets Steve’s eyes, over her form, and knows they’re both thinking the same thing: there’s no way they’re letting Vecna win this.

Whatever it takes, he silently vows to himself, and hopes it doesn’t come down to his life on the line.

He knows he’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant just one of these kids lived instead.

Steve’s expression is pained, like he can read Eddie’s mind and know what he’s thinking about. “Eddie,” he murmurs, but thankfully doesn’t remark on it, just says, “What’s your magic secret nightmare eraser?”

Eddie grins, allowing himself to be pulled back into the moment. “Secret magic nightmare eraser, Stevie, don’t disparage the name Wayne gave it.”

Steve chuckles, raises his hands in surrender, and settles in to listen.

“Once upon a time…”

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[astyrial]

the history teacher atsumu miya x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: it's hard having the hot history teacher right next door word count: 1.1k warnings: atsumu is so flirtatious omg masterlist | requests are open

   a bell rings throughout the high school as students shuffle to get all of their items together. as your gaze finds the clock, you realize it's lunch time for most of the junior students. you take in a deep sigh and clasp your hands together in front of you, "don't forget, chapter five and six tonight, make sure to finish the questions. and there are some on the back!"

  you watch as all of your students file out of the room, one of them staying behind. mae, your brightest and most promising student, walks over to you, book in her hand. she always liked staying behind, talking about how you're her favorite teacher. she purses his lips and sighs before finally telling you what plagues her mind. 

  "i need some advice... about guys,” she brings her focus onto you, figuring that no one could overhear her.

  "mmh okay, well i am by far the best person in that department, but what's on your mind?" your eyebrows raise for a second, a calming smile on your lips. 

  mae takes in a deep breath, eyes flickering between you and the door, "someone has been leaving notes in my locker, anonymous ones. they feature poems but i don't know who it is. i just wish i did so i could talk to him."

  "i'm sorry mae, maybe you just have to give it a little more time. if he really likes you, he'll let you know it's him. either through little things that remind you of him or a written confession. i'm sure it'll be fine," you lean against your desk, your own gaze finding the door when you see the figure of your coworker.

  he leans up against the door, right eyebrow raised. his shoulders are wide, a polo shirt just slightly unbuttoned. you look back at your student, finger pointing towards the clock, "you should probably get to lunch, wouldn't want you missing out because of a secret admirer."

  mae nods, scratching the back of her neck before turning around to leave. with a couple of books in hand, it takes her a minute to look up and notice your coworker standing there, she looks back at you, a cheeky smile on her lips. you shrug your shoulders until she leaves, watching as she gives a short goodbye to the school's most interesting history teacher.

  he takes a few steps into the room, shirt ever so slightly small around his biceps. you look over at your computer, eyes trying to hide from his. however, there's something so intriguing about him that you can't help but meet his gaze. him, the history teacher, the one who is in a room next to yours, the one who always finds a way to see you. 

  "ms. l/n... i overheard you aren't a pro when it comes to romance. considering how beautiful you are, i'm very surprised," he reaches his hand out and taps one of the student's desks, gaze not breaking yours.

  you nod, shrugging your shoulders, truly watching him sway into your classroom nearly takes your breath away. the way he can just walk so effortlessly to you, "well mr. miya-"

  "you know you can call me atsumu, i've always told you that," a few pieces of rich brown hair falls down, one hand moving to push it back into place. 

  "i wouldn't think that to be very professional, especially if you call me ms. l/n all the time. besides, i think that miya is a great name," your hands becoming clammy as they push against your desk, heartbeat quickening as he takes a few more steps in your direction. 

  he lets out a hearty laugh but doesn't stop his runway walk towards you. the leather belt he's sporting keeps the shirt tight enough against his stomach that you can almost see his abs. despite you knowing that starting anything with a coworker is an awful idea, you can't help but wonder if anything could happen between the two of you. 

  "well, y/n... how does that sound? you call me atsumu and i call you y/n. and by the way, i love how your breath hitches whenever i say your name," atsumu finally makes it to your desk, resting a hand on your desk, body a mere foot away from you. 

  you bite your top lip while looking away from him, shaking your head slightly. of course your breath hitches as he comes ever so close to you. he's been this way ever since you met him and he's right. you do like him, especially as he tilts his head in such a cocky manner. "i don't know what you're talking about... atsumu."

  a smile stretches across his face at his name coming from your mouth. atsumu then leans a little closer to you, breath just barely brushing across your skin. "right... well, y/n, how would you feel about dinner, saturday? because i know an amazing chef," he brings his free hand to rest on his hip, most likely flexing his arm a little.

  "dinner? mmh you may have to let me think about it," you turn back to look at him, his face inches away from yours, his golden brown eyes flickering between yours. 

  "it seems that you may already have an answer," atsumu's ears perk up a little and his hand reaches for yours, "either that or i'm completely misinterpreting how you look at me. by the way, my eyes are up here, for future reference."

  heat rises to your cheeks as you bite the inside of your cheek, gaze turning to the floor. you sigh, feeling his hand running over yours. "i have no idea what you're talking about. however, i may have already thought it over and would love to join you for dinner," you finally look back up and can't help but take in a sharp breath. 

  atsumu smiles, leaning back again, nodding. he runs his thumb along the back of your hand before grabbing his phone from his pocket. he holds it out to you, not able to keep his eyes from you, "you want to add your number in here?"

  "alright, atsumu, if you insist."

  you begin to type your number into his phone, removing your hand from his. however, neither of you notice it when your student mae has returned to to grab one of her other books, that same knowing smile on her face. she may not be able to recognize the romance within her own life, but she can definitely see how you see the history teacher from next door.

[abc-91]

Getou Suguru x curse reader Part 2, fluff

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/abc-91/739962273969455104/getou-suguru-x-curse-reader-part-2-fluff

When Suguru gets back to his dorm that afternoon, he feels so relieved. Yes, Satoru is his best friend, but he has too much on his mind right now to deal with joining him at the mall and sitting there while Satoru tries on every item in every designer store. His thoughts were too occupied with this curse to pay attention to Satoru asking, “Oi, Suguru. Which one looks better on me, the teal or the purple? I think the teal’s better. Actually, I think I liked the purple more. I’ll go change back into the purple… Oh yeah, the purple is definitely better. Wait actually- I’ll try the teal on one more time just to be sure… I was right the first time; the teal’s better… Actually the purple- you know what? I’ll just get both.” Suguru was just thankful that Satoru talked too much to notice that he never gave his opinions on any of the clothes he tried on or even really looked at them at all.

Suguru gets back to his dorm and sets the bags of things Satoru practically forced him to buy on his desk. He puts a hand over his forehead and groans in frustration. What was he going to do about this curse? Surely he’ll have to tell someone else sooner or later. If he can’t figure out how to control this curse soon, he’ll have to figure out a way to exorcise it. But this curse seemed so gentle at the same time; it played with his hair, told him he was pretty, and was even going to kiss him before Gojo interrupted.

“No,” Suguru thinks. “It’s a curse. If it can’t be controlled then it must be exorcised.” A sudden voice brings him out of his thoughts.

“Suguru?” Cool, familiar hands reach out and hug his upper body from behind. “You seem tense.” He should push the curse away, but something in him tells him not to.

“Yeah…” He sighs softly.

“Do you want me to try and help you relax?” Suguru takes a deep breath.

“Could you?” He looks back at you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Yeah, lie down and I’ll play with your hair again.” He nods his head and lies back down on his bed, watching the curse expectantly. The curse sits on the edge of his bed, and gently takes his hair out of his hair tie to not accidentally tug his hair. Its delicate fingers run through his hair, making him sigh and close his eyes.

“Your hair is so soft,” the curse mumbles softly. He feels its fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his scalp, and he begins to relax.

“Do you want to talk about it? Why you’re so tense, I mean.” Suguru’s eyes open, and he looks at the curse. He looks into their eyes, and they look so gentle, so human. The longer he looks into the curse’s eyes, the more he feels his heartbeat quickening.

“You…”

“Me?” He nods.

“I’m making you tense?”

“Y-Yeah, you. I don’t get you.” The curse giggles.

“Of course you don’t get me; we met yesterday.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not what I meant. You’re a curse; why are you doing this?” The curse tilts their head curiously.

“Doing what? Massaging your scalp?”

“Yes, but not just that; all of this. You’re being so nice and complimenting me. Why?”

“Because I want to… I don’t really know why I want to, but it probably has to do with me feeling so drawn to you.”

“And why do you feel so drawn to me?”

“I don’t really know that either. All I know is that as soon as I saw you something just told me I needed to be with you.” Suguru feels speechless at the confession, but he finally speaks after a moment while looking at the ceiling.

“I think I feel drawn to you too… I missed your touch while I was gone.”

“I missed you.” They pause before saying, “Can I stay with you?” Suguru looks into their eyes again.

“Yes, I-I won’t exorcise you or anything.”

“Ah, I meant like always. I have the ability to completely disguise my presence, so can I stay with you when you go? No one else will be able to tell I’m there if I don’t want them to. If you don’t want me to come with you then I obviously won’t.”

“Is- Is that what you did earlier when Satoru was at the door?”

“Hm? Oh, y-yeah”

“Uh, yeah, you can come with me whenever you want.” He blushes.

“So, about your friends… You’re sorcerers, right? You’re supposed to exorcise curses, so will your friends try to exorcise m-” He quickly cuts them off when he realizes the question.

“No, no I won’t let that happen. Just stay hidden until I tell you it’s safe to come out. That way no one will know about us.” Suguru blushes after his sudden surge of protectiveness as if he’s not talking about a curse right now.

“Thank you, Suguru.”

“No problem… Do- do you have a name?”

“A name?”

“Yeah”

“I guess it’s y/n.”

“You guess?”

“Ah, well I’ve never actually talked to any humans before. I just thought the name was pretty, so I always thought if I had a name then I’d want it to be that.”

“I’m the first human you’ve ever talked to?”

“Yeah”

“Oh… that’s kind of sad but I kind of feel flattered at the same time.” The curse giggles, which makes Suguru feel less bad.

“It’s alright; I’m glad that you’re the first person I’ve talked to.” Suguru feels his face heating up again.

“Really?”

“Really!” The curse starts giggling like crazy and starts leaning on him. This causes Suguru to start laughing too and loosely wrap his arms around their waist. He’s laughing so hard that he’s struggling to catch his breath. Suguru sighs when he finally calms down.

“I’ve had a bit of a long day, so I kind of wanna head to bed early if that’s alright.”

“Yeah… Can I sleep with you for tonight?” They ask nervously and Suguru flushes.

“Uh yeah, yeah come here.” He scoots over in bed and gets under the blankets to make room for them to lie with him. “Comfy?”

“Yeah, comfy. You?”

“Yeah, me too…” He reaches over and turns off his bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, Suguru.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

Part three:

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt. 8

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt.9

Eddie had never given much thought to how he would die, which was probably an oversight, considering.

Until now, if he had given it some thought, he imagines his cause of death probably would have been a toss up between the drugs or the homosexuality. Now, he’s pretty sure it’s stupidity. Because Steve had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he should not go back to the trailer. And he had. And now he’s going to die.

Then again, it won’t really be stupidity that kills him. It’ll be whatever interdimensional horrorshow beast is trying to crawl through his ceiling in the living room. Though his cause of death itself will probably be something like blunt trauma, or asphyxiation, or exsanguination, or––well, he doesn’t know how interdimensional horrorshow beasts kill people. There might not even be a corpse left for an autopsy. 

These kind of semantics are not what he should be thinking about while barricaded in the bathroom. He should be thinking about finding a way to not die.

He’ll get on that immediately.

Wayne’s shotgun is in the living room and isn’t loaded, so that’s not an option for defense. Aside from that, the closest thing to a weapon that they keep in the house is Eddie’s guitar which is already safely in the front seat of Harrington’s BMW along with Eddie’s record collection, six mugs, the entire drawer from the kitchen full of their important documents, and a duffel bag that’s half clothes and half an assortment of sentimental items he’d thought Wayne might want to try and save if he had a choice.

When he’d collected these things, slammed his way out the door and shoved them into the car, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the ceiling. Except as he was about to leave, he’d remembered his lunchbox with close to $50 of weed left in it and Steve’s walkie-talkie and when he’d gone back inside to retrieve them, he’d thought maybe he should grab some of his D&D stuff as well. The monster manual. The best of his minifigs. The paint set that had cost a pretty penny that Wayne got him for Christmas two years back. And after shoving those things in a bag, he’d stopped in the kitchen to grab some food because he might as well and that’s when––

Well.

That’s when some sort of vine-y tentacle-y portal cracked the living room ceiling in half  and something started to crawl out. Something because he’s not sure what else to call it because it was definitely animalistic in nature, but it also didn’t seem to have a fucking face.

So. He screamed and he barricaded himself in the bathroom and now his heartbeat is in his ears and he feels dizzy with the breath he can’t seem to catch and the closest thing he has to a weapon is the rusted rod holding the shower curtain which is too unwieldy to actually be useful. He considers trying to dig the walkie talkie out of the bag slung around his chest but even if Steve answers it’s unlikely he'll get there in time to save Eddie’s ass.

Except.

Eddie fumbles one hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out the knife Steve had pressed into his palm earlier. It’s not much, but it’s something

Okay. He’s not an idiot even if he likes to play one sometimes. The bathroom window is too small to climb out but the bedroom window isn’t and the bedroom door is right there.

He takes the deepest breath he can, which isn’t very, holds the knife in his right hand, and throws the door open with his left. He doesn’t look behind him when he runs for the bedroom, left hand reaching, again, for a door knob so he can slam something shut between him and whatever is happening in the living room.

He almost makes it.

He gets the door closed and—rookie mistake, he should really know better—bends over to exhale in relief, when one of the vines or tentacles or whatever the fuck they are shoots from beneath the crack where door meets linoleum flooring and wraps it self, sharp and burning and cruel around his ankle. He brings the knife down almost without thinking to hack at it and the second the thing is severed he tips over his dresser to cover the crack, climbs onto the bed, and shoves open the window with panicked fingers. When he falls out of it to land hard, chest-down in the dirt outside a moment later, he doesn’t make the mistake of thinking he’s safe. He just scrambles to his feet and runs for Steve’s car. It’s still idling, keys in the ignition, and his foot is on the accelerator before the door is fully closed, duffle bag pressed uncomfortably between his back and the seat, forcing him to hunch forward over the dash knife still trapped between his right hand and steering wheel.

He says “fuck” approximately 173 times on the way to the Henderson’s house.

***

It’s a short, curly-haired, toothless kid that answers the door at the quaint house in the quiet neighborhood where he parks more on the grass than the driveway.

“Eddie!” the kid says brightly, and then. “Uh, I mean, can I help you?”

Normally he’d ask how the kid knows his name but that’s pretty far down on his list of burning questions at the moment. 

“I don’t––I, uh.”

His hands are still shaking and he’s still holding the knife which is now smeared with some sort of black-red viscera.

The kid seems to notice this.

“Oh, shit.” He says. Not in horror or fear, which would be normal reactions to a stranger holding a bloodied knife on your doorstep, but something closer to resignation. “Were you––I thought Steve told you not to go back. What happened? Are you okay?”

Eddie laughs. It’s maybe a little hysterical. “No,” he says remembering the words Steve had said to him in the bathroom the first day they’d spoken. “No, I am not even remotely OK. What the fuck is going on?”

And then his day gets even weirder because several other people appear in the doorway behind the curly-haired kid. Most of them look to be the kid’s age. One girl is considerably younger. But behind the gaggle of children are Barb Holland and Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

“Oh no!” Chrissy says, “Eddie, you’re bleeding.”

He looks down and yup, sure enough. His ankle is bleeding bright and red down the side of his once-white sneakers.

And then, thank god, a woman appears. A mom. He has never in his life been so relieved to see an adult.

“Well what are you doing, let the poor boy inside,” she says, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “Dustin, take him to the bathroom so he can clean up.”

It occurs to Eddie, belatedly, that he’s still sort of brandishing a knife, which most mothers would take exception to, except when her eyes slide down his arm she doesn’t seem surprised.

“You shouldn’t need that here,” she says. “But maybe it’s best to keep it within reach until the others get back anyhow.”

She turns like this is an everyday occurrence, humming as she walks back toward the kitchen and the kid–Dustin?--is pulling him down the hall.

He makes somewhat frantic eye-contact with Barb who looks…equally baffled.

“Nance just dropped me off and told me if I trusted her I had to stay,” she says. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“Robin dropped me off,” Chrissy says. “Sort of. I mean, I drove us. But I also would love to know what sort of prank is happening. It can’t be mean if Robin is involved but the kids were definitely a surprise and none of them will tell us anything.”

“I have no idea,” Eddie says faintly as a ten year old bullies him into sitting on the closed toilet lid, muttering about disinfectant. “All I know is that is that Chief Hopper picked up Steve and Steve gave me his keys–”

“What?” One of the kids squawks, “Steve doesn’t let anybody drive his car!”

Eddie ignores him, “and he told me to come here––begged me, basically, told me not to go home and said something about a gate? Except I went home to get––”

“Eddie!” multiple kids he’s never met before shout at him at once.

This is the strangest day of his life.

“To get some things. You know, just in case. Because Steve was making it sound like the park was going to get wiped off the face of the earth. But then the ceiling––it was like…and there was a…thing.”

“A thing,” Barb repeats.

Eddie looks at the knife in his hand, then down to where Dustin is rolling up the bloodied cuff of his jeans.

There’s a mark there that’s very similar to the healing mark around Steve’s neck–a bleeding ligature line outlined in welted skin that looks almost like a burn, maybe.

“You wouldn't believe me,” Eddie says. 

“Oh we 100% would,” Dustin says. “But maybe don’t say anything until Steve gets back.”

“Yeah, no,” Eddie argues, hissing as Dustin pours alcohol on his wounds. “I’m going to need you to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

“Seconded,” Barb says.

“Thirded,” Chrissy says.

Jesus. There are a lot of people crammed into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” Dustin says. “But I really can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Steve says we can't,” pipes up one of the other kids from just outside the door. “Not ‘till they get back.”

“What, and Steve is the boss of you?”

“Well yeah. I mean, with this stuff, yeah.”

“WHAT STUFF?” Eddie feels like he might be losing his mind. “Does your mom know what’s going on? I need an adult.”

“She knows, but she’s not saying anything either,” Barb sighs. 

Eddie doesn’t have a chance to further argue with the child wrapping gauze around his ankle because the walkie talkie in the bag still strapped around his chest, as well as the walkie-talkie Dustin had been holding, now located in the sink basin, go staticy before Steve’s voice comes through.

“Dustin, come in. Is Eddie there yet? Over.”

Dustin fishes the radio out of the sink. “Yup,” he answers. “But Eddie went back home first and I think the gate is open because his ankle is all messed up in a you-know-what kinda way and he’s asking a lot of questions, over.”

“He went back? After I explicitly told him not to?”

Eddie wrenches the radio out of Dustin’s hands.

“You were making it sound like the place was going to get nuked,” he hisses, “so sue me if I wanted to rescue some of the few possessions I have with sentimental value.”

“Nothing is worth your life, Eddie, Jesus.”

“Well maybe if you’d explained what the hell was going on, then I would have known that my life was in danger you colossal asshole.”

“We are having such a conversation when this is over,” Steve snarls.

“Oh believe me, I think that is more than warranted”

“Guys,” Dustin interrupts. “You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re finished talking.”

“Don’t leave or do anything else stupid,” Steve says, “Dustin, we’re going in now, over.”

“Going in where?” Eddie asks.

There’s no response.

“Steve, going in where?”

The radio is silent.

“Steven fucking whatever your middle name is Harrington, answer me right now.”

He does not.

“He said ‘over.’” Dustin points out. “I think he’s gone.”

“If this is a prank,” Chrissy says. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think it’s a prank,” Eddie murmurs. “Hey,” he grabs Dustin’s wrist; makes the kid look at him. “Is Steve going to be ok? He’s already beat to shit, he shouldn’t be doing––whatever the hell he’s doing.”

“Probably?” Dustin says. “I mean, he always has been so far. Mostly. And he’s actually in a lot better shape now than he was the last time.”

“Last time,” Eddie repeats flatly.

“Dustin, shut up,” the youngest girl says.

“Look, Steve will be fine. Everyone is going to be fine this time. We just have to be patient.” But there’s something in his expression that belies the confidence in his voice.

“Patient,” Eddie says. “Fantastic.”

Pt.9