#song- rather that I could only do the best of things when I was suffering in Spite

[jacksmusesdrv3]

I oversimplify the tears I cry While you tear them down line by line

Okay so this song is a doozy of a thing, and it’s mostly ‘vibes related’ rather than entirely, but it really stirred some feelings in me that I wanna spill

[!SONG CW!]: (general) self harm, disordered eating, suicidal ideation (towards the end of the song), blood, strangulation

Lemme just grab a couple of caps this time. I think that should be all I need

First says that Ouma ‘lies to entertain others’, and he likely references his experiences in the world generally. If we follow on from that, the second refers to how he plunged to the absolute limit of his sanity for his plans and, in no small part, it’s to entertain others- the people around him, presumably (though you can add the outside world watching as another layer to that...). Adding this to the gamification talk here, the idea is that Ouma could’ve been suffering for others’ gratification long before this killing game was a thing.

The difference to the song though, is that far from being open about his true feelings, Ouma covers and obfuscates them a great deal. That obfuscation is the ‘show’ he puts on- not so much the ‘open suffering for others to consume’, but the suffering he endures being a constant under the surface.

For an Ouma with this history, it’s basically the same, if he was made into a spectacle in his past. A ‘circus monster’, if you will: ‘you know nothing about me, but you’re entertained anyway, so that’s good, right? :D’

[moonhoures]

Play Thing

🕷️ kinktober — day 13: degradation 🕸️

pairing: mina (twice) + reader (g/n)

genre: non-idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, d/s dynamic, mean dom!reader, sub!mina, brat!mina, thigh riding, degradation, reader calls mina ‘baby’, ‘play thing’, ‘toy’, ‘slut’, ‘needy’, ‘bitch’, & ‘stupid’

word count: ~1.4k

synopsis: your bratty gf just won’t leave you be, so you give her the attention she so badly craves

a/n: happy friday the 13th 😈👻

posted: october 13, 2023

kinktober masterlist

Your girlfriend was many things, but towards the top of the long list of her descriptors was “clingy”. For the most part, she tried her best to give you your space and alone time, but she would sometimes get in moods where she wanted to be around you all the time. She would follow you around your house like a puppy, or plop herself right next to you or in your lap while you were watching TV, reading, playing games, etc. She would nag or sigh or make comments until you would give in and ask what she wanted. It was like this every time, even today.

You were sitting on the couch, one of your comfort shows pulled up on the TV in front of you while you scrolled on your phone. Mina sauntered in from the bedroom, presumably bored of the movie she had just finished watching in there. She unceremoniously sat beside you, taking mere seconds before she was cuddling up to your side. Her cheek rested against your arm as she asked what you were doing.

“Baking a cake,” you replied sarcastically, enjoying the way she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not even watching the show you put on,” she pointed out, “Can I change it?”

“No, I like having it on,” you pouted, then added, “You had the TV in the room to yourself. Why are you coming in here trying to take this one from me?”

“I’m just bored, and I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Then sit and watch this show.”

Mina liked when you talked like that to her. Sternly. And she knew you knew. She wondered how much she could push your buttons until you snapped. Hopefully, not too long, she thought.

“But I don’t like this show.”

“Stop whining,” you glanced at her, giving her a pointed look that only sent arousal between her legs, “Or I’ll banish you back to the bedroom.”

“Promise?” she taunted you, a playful smile on her lips.

“Mina-“

“________,” she mocked your strict tone.

“You must want to be punished.”

“Maybe,” she sing-songed, batting her eyelashes at you cutely.

You shook your head lightly before adjusting your legs on the couch from their crossed position, “Fine, take off your shorts.”

Her eyes lit up as the realization hit that her plan worked, rather quickly at that. She quickly got up, slipping her shorts off, revealing her naked figure underneath. You did the same, tossing your own pants on top of her discarded ones on the floor. You patted your thigh, gesturing for her to mount it, but this made her frown.

“You’re not going to fuck me?” she asked with a sullen tone. Perhaps her plan wasn’t working as well as she thought.

“Nope. You want to cum so bad, you can do it on my thigh or not at all,” you were very clear with your words, so she knew you wouldn’t budge even a little bit. She accepted the cards she was dealt, and unenthusiastically climbed onto your thigh, straddling it. You could feel her arousal on your skin.

“Wet already? You must’ve been thinking about this,” you said, hand gently kneading the flesh of her thigh. It was the only contact you were giving her besides your thigh, so you could tell she was feeling unsatisfied so far. Good.

Mina nodded, “Was thinking about your tongue and your fingers.”

“Of course you were, you’re so fucking needy.”

The faintest moan erupted from her throat, but you caught it.

“Aren’t you?” you taunted her now, your hand rubbing higher up by her hips, “My needy little baby.”

“Can I move yet?” she was practically begging. You wanted to tell her no, just to watch her suffer. But she was so cute like this, pouting and staring at you with those boba-like eyes of hers. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, so you nodded.

She began to move her hips over your leg, rubbing her wet cunt along your skin. She let out a small, airy breath of satisfaction at the feeling.

“Look at you, so impatient. It’s just my thigh, but you’re so desperate to cum, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” she replied without hesitation, closing her eyes to focus on the feeling of her folds on you.

“Look at me when you’re riding me,” you demanded, and instantly her eyelids were opening to the sight of your authoritative stare. Was she getting wetter? It felt like it. Her hips sped up just a bit, and she started to rock them a little harder, shifting herself along the muscles in your thigh. She was trying so hard to find the perfect spot. A spot that would touch her clit in just the right way. A spot that would have her cumming just like she wanted.

After a few minutes of her slowing down and speeding up, of shifting around on your leg, of whining when the positions she was trying didn’t feel right, you let out a laugh. Yep, a small laugh. And it had her frowning, pausing her movements with an expression of defeat and confusion.

“What’s funny?”

“You. You look pathetic.”

That’s it, she thought. She resumed, slowly and painstakingly rubbing herself against you again, “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you replied, matter-of-factly, “Just a stupid, needy girl getting off on a thigh. That’s all you can do, huh? Get your pussy wet. Is that all you’re good for?”

She tried to respond with a confident “No!” but it came out more like a whiny groan, which only further proved your point. It also made her so wet that she was practically slipping over your skin now.

You snickered, “Can’t even speak. How do you expect to get fucked properly if you can’t even ask? You had to nag and annoy me until I let you get what you wanted.”

“Not what I wanted,” she remarked, eyelids fluttering as her clit started to throb. Feels so good, she thought to herself.

“Yeah, well, stupid girls don’t get what they want sometimes. Especially if they don’t ask for it politely.”

“I’m not stupid,” she whimpered, hips thrusting against your thigh faster than before. Her climax was brewing somewhere in her abdomen, just waiting to be brought to the surface, “Fuck.”

“You are though, baby,” you spoke to her in a patronizing voice now, fingertips gripping her thigh before giving it a little slap. It was enough to make her jolt and let out a surprised moan, “My stupid, desperate little play thing. My toy. That’s all you’re good for, playing with.”

God, that’s all she wanted to hear. She moaned, cunt weeping all over your leg as she reached the precipice of her release.

“Are you really going to cum so soon? You are desperate, huh? Just a pathetic slut that can’t wait for the chance to cum.”

“Please,” she whined.

“Please? Please what? Speak, baby, it’s not that hard.”

“Need your fingers.”

“No, I told you. My thigh, or nothing,” you kept your foot down, not budging even when she let out a sigh of agony. Watching her crumble while not getting her way was satisfying for you.

“But I need it. So bad.”

“You don’t need them, you want them. You want them so bad, I know. But you want to cum, don’t you?” your hand returned to her hips, helping her in her movements so that she was moving faster now. You could see her cheeks growing pink and her lips remained parted as quick, short breaths left them, “Cum all over me like the needy little bitch you are. Come on. Do the one thing you’re good at and cum.”

Mina couldn’t take it anymore. The pleasure had been coursing through her like electricity before it landed at her pussy. Her walls clenched around nothing and her clit throbbed faster than before as it dragged along the expanse of your thigh. Your skin was covered in her juices as they flowed freely from her. You could feel her heat seeping onto you. It was honestly turning you on, but you weren’t going to tell her that. You had to stick strongly to your nasty demeanor.

“Are you really not going to fuck me?” she asked softly once her orgasm had settled down. She stayed seated on your lap even after, in the hopes you would say yes, “Not even just with your fingers?”

“You’ll be lucky if you get my thigh again,” you gestured to the spot beside you on the couch, “Now sit back down and let me finish this episode, then maybe I’ll consider fucking you.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @heerinnie @bekah931215 @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Opera Artist! Reader Headcanons:

Warning: This section is a continuation of the previous one, so you have to read the other one to understand this one.

Topics to talk about: Mention of kidnapping, abuse, murder, obsessive and yandere behavior, manipulation, and anything involving yandere behavior. Also, as I said before, I am NOT describing any Asian emperor in particular, so I have created my own; Not to mention that I have used the Chinese imperial harem system as a base, as well as the forbidden city itself. I will name (Y/n)'s children, so I warn you that I am not describing any prince or princess in particular.

Enjoy it!

1. Yan Li knew that because of having such fast promotions the concubines were mostly jealous of you, so to prevent any attacks, he kept an eye on every corner you went to.

2. He also watched over the princes and princesses he had with you, who were the following:

-The third prince, Li Chen (your first child). -The sixth prince, Li Song (your second child). -The eighth prince, Yong Li (your third child). -The ninth prince, Li Yon'er (your fourth child). -The tenth princess, Yan'rong (your fifth child). -The fifteenth princess, Hua Li (your sixth child).

3. Your children also suffered from palace intrigues, so you had to protect each one of them tooth and nail. Yan Li saw this and decided to severely punish any concubine or consort who dares to harm you or your children.

4. To protect (and harass) you, Yan Li selected a specific group of servants for your palace, among them is the one who became your "right hand", a servant in charge of cleaning, named Yuhou.

5. Zhou, meanwhile, was devastated to learn that you were kidnapped by Yan Li in a golden cage, so he tried to enter the palace and enlist in the imperial army, which he succeeded after a few years. If he can't rescue you, he would at least watch over you from the shadows.

6. One day, when you were in the middle of your third pregnancy, you were walking with your maids when they saw each other. One of your maids, Lili (yes, your old friend), noticed this. He was shocked to see you not only dressed as one of Yan Li's consorts (at that time you were still a consort), but he felt her heart break at the sight of you pregnant. You felt like running towards each other, but you loved your children too much to challenge Yan Li like this.

7. --He… forced you?-- Zhou asked after remaining silent in surprise. You could only nod at that moment.

8. --Yes, isn't it obvious?-- You answered and left, being very devastated just like him, not knowing that Yan Li himself was watching them, angry and jealous.

9. Yan Li made sure you would never see your loved one again, taking him out of the forbidden city on super difficult military missions, basically sending him to die multiple times on purpose.

10. You suspected that Yan Li would find out sooner or later, so you purposely avoided meeting or talking about Zhou, no matter how sad it made you. You didn't even mention it to your children.

11. The few times Zhou was in the forbidden city, Yan Li tried to set traps for you to see how far you would go or whether you would be unfaithful to him, and the best thing you did in hoste traps was… stay in your palace and quietly go on with your life. , which Yan Li did not expect.

12. Yan Li has never hurt you physically, rather he threatened or manipulated you, followed by controlling how long you could sing and dance (like when you did before) or not, which discouraged you a lot. He only allowed you to do it for him.

13. I forgot to say that Lili entered the Mese Palace after you were kidnapped, but Yan Li wanted to make sure that she didn't help you escape, so he sent her first to work in the laundry house, the embroidery department, the flower department and gardening and finally in the workhouse where Lili had some acquaintances, both good and bad, and endured a lot of work and humiliation.

14. Each time Yan Li locked you more and more to himself, with the excuse that it was to take care of you, but he only wanted to control you.

15. Yan Li even had every gift that came to you or your children checked. He also appreciated any gift you gave him.

16. You watched your eldest children grow up, marry, and leave your palace for their own princely mansions, one after one. Li Chen was the first of all of them.

17. After you gave birth to Hua Li, you were unable to have children again, but Yan Li didn't care about this and still forced you to stay with him every night he could, now threatening to harm Zhou if you didn't comply with his whims. and you gave yourself to him.

18. Yan Li forced you to spend time with him, and not only at night but also visiting you in your palace, taking walks with him (sometimes with the Empress Dowager as extra company) and even accompanying him on trips and festivals.

19. Speaking of the Empress Dowager, she quite likes you and Yan Li is glad that you get along with her since… well, she's his mother. She is the only person who forgives you for spending a lot of time with her aside from your children and harem problems; He likes that you get along with the highest ranking woman in the empire.

20. Yan Li really likes your son, Li Chen, so much so that he secretly made him his heir to the throne; so neither you nor Li Chen himself knows.

21. In the event that any of your children or one of his consorts helped you escape, Yan Li would banish them from the forbidden city and condemn you to house arrest.

22. During festivals, he would control even who can talk and who can't talk to you. Among the people who can't even get close to you would be your beloved Zhou.

23. A drunk minister once insulted you, and as a result, Yan Li burned his tongue.

24. Yan Li is the one who had all your crowns made to your liking, demonstrating the deep love (or rather, obsession) he had for you.

25. Sometimes during the nights you were forced to give him back massages after a stressful day, and on other nights he would do this with you.

26. The servants even had to be careful not to bump into you, because depending on Yan Li's mood… he may simply punish them, or kill them.

27. As time went by, you became a grandmother thanks to your prince's children, but you couldn't always see your grandchildren since Yan Li liked to keep you prisoner in the forbidden city.

28. Every time Yan Li goes to bathe in his own private hot spring lake, he forces you to bathe with him, even if you don't want to. Likewise, if he knows that you are bathing alone in said waters, he will bathe with you even if you don't want to and he will make you be close to him.

29. He makes sure that every birthday of yours is fantastic.

30. Every time he got sick, he asked you to take care of him. Conversely, every time you got sick he took care of you and by doing so I mean not only getting you the best medicines, but also watching over everything that your maids or the imperial doctor do.

31. The Empress Dowager became ill over the years due to old age, and when she died, you were very sad since she was somehow the closest thing to a mother to you. Your princesses also mourned her a lot, not to mention Yan Li himself. Due to the close relationship Yan Li had with his mother, he was devastated and declared three years of mourning; It was the only time you felt truly sorry for him.

32. Yan Li has given the order that if something happens in the palace or during a trip, they must save you and your children first, since he does not want to see you hurt, injured or in the worst case scenario… dead. That is a nightmare and a terror that has haunted him day after day since he met you, which is why he believes that he is protecting you but in reality he manipulates you, locks you up and isolates you from the world.

33. He admired how you managed the imperial harem and all the internal servant departments with an iron fist, even if he didn't tell you directly.

34. The only excuse Yan Li accepts for you not wanting to sleep with him is if you or one of your children is sick.

35. The only visits Yan Li allowed to you were from your eldest children, either alone or with their wives and children. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but Yan Li noticed the pressure your parents were putting on you, so he sent his guards to "talk nice" to them, and from then on they stopped bothering you.

36. Yan Li saw you meeting Zhou secretly, which made him angry, so that night he threatened you that if you didn't say goodbye, he would kill him in a cruel and painful way. The next day she made you say goodbye to your loved one and then took him out of the forbidden city so that one of his guards would cut his neck, killing him quickly and throwing him into a mass grave. Needless to say, you really hated Yan Li again after that.

37. As the years went by, Yan Li became sicker and sicker, mostly from stress, which you took advantage of to start getting revenge on him, poisoning him.

38. His health deteriorated more and more, until on his final day, when he was dying, you dismissed all his servants from his main hall and then confessed to him. Yan Li was very angry and felt very betrayed, but he could do nothing but listen until he died at the hands of the person he loved so much.

39. During Yan Li's funeral, you pretended to cry, not knowing that your real happy days began from that moment. Yan Li's trusted eunuch read the emperor's will, which stated that Li Chen would be the new emperor, and you would be the empress dowager. Long story short, your son ascended the throne, reshaped your living conditions, and the other consorts became "widow consorts." You no longer had to worry about anything, you would just live in peace from now on, taking care of your daughters until they grow up.

40. However, Yan Li was waiting for you in the other world. He has told you years before he died that even if he passes away first, he will be waiting for you in the next life where he will find you and make you his again.

-Fin. So, what do you think about this part two?

[fairytale-poll]

SEMIFINAL ROUND, MATCH 2 OUT OF 2!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Bug:

Their a bug that falls in love with a human they rescue and becomes human, but even when they don't get to keep their human body, they still get to be with their love. It's a sci-fi fairytale musical.

Little Mermaid meets Starship Troopers musical starring awesome puppets and the most trans coded main character ever. Please. Please vote Bug Starship I love him. Go watch Kick it Up a Notch from Starship. Go watch Status Quo from Starship. You will understand.

He's a bug and he lives in space on a bug planet but he really wants to be a starship ranger which you can only be if you are a human and then one day a spaceship lands on his planet and so he goes to an evil bug called Pincer who then helps him become a human. And Bug falls in love with a human on the spaceship and it's very sweet. The musical and storyline are based on the little mermaid story, the creators themselves called it "the little mermaid but in space". Bug wanting to be a human/a starship ranger and achieving that and falling in love with a human is very much like the little mermaid

Starship is a musical that can only be described as The Little Mermaid meets Starship Troopers. It follows Bug, an alien bug who dreams of being a Starship Ranger, a galactic explorer/soldier, but the rigid confines of bug society keeps him trapped in a job he hates. He reaches a Starship Ranger named February from the hive and immediately falls in love with her. In order to be with her and pursue his dream, he makes a deal with a giant scorpion named Pincer who through sci-fi bs gives him a human body. Near the end of the second act he sacrifices his human body and returns to his bug body, and saves the day and wins February's heart. It's truly the ultimate Little Mermaid. He has multiple songs, and his bug body is portrayed by a puppet!! Vote for Bug!!

“It's a big, big, universe So many dimensions And unanswered questions Not to mention Life What an invention Life There's no choice involved in what you are given One mind, one voice, one body to live in It's a short, small thing we lead With so much potential Pointless or essential Which one can I be? Where do I fit? Where do I stand? Who are they to say what I am? And how can I stay inside this awful world I know? I need a way out I need an escape I'd rather be dead than to live in this place I wish that something or someone could just take it all away Someone take me away” dear god….. can anybody hear me…. (song from starship)

They are the purest little mermaid adaptation done in the most unuque way. An alien insect gets turned into a human, a race he has always loved and admired, to be with the woman he fell in love with. Also just a great musical.

Bug's whole arc is so so in tune with that of the little mermaid. He is an alien who has fallen in love with humanity through a crashed spaceship and trades his place in the hive for a chance to be with both with the human he's falling for and to be a Starship Ranger. He body swaps with human in a cryogenic pod! It's literally sci-fi Little Mermaid!

Original Fairytale:

The OG, she suffered so much more than Ariel in the Disney version, and gave up her love for Christianity. When she's turned into a human her feet are in agony with every step, but she dances anyway to enchant the Prince. The Prince marries a princess who found him after the Little Mermaid rescued him. The Little Mermaid is distraught at the prince marrying another, so her sisters give her a dagger from the Sea Witch that will turn her back into a mermaid if she kills him. She refuses to kill him, and then she turns into sea foam and dies, but because she was a good person she becomes a spirit of the air and does good deeds for 300 years until she dies again, gains a soul, and goes to Heaven.

[anika-ann]

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all? 

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places. 

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.  

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.  

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him;  your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.  

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”  

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this one

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

[atzfilm]

— clair de lune. (m) - finale

genre; yandere, vampire!au, reincarnation! au angst, smut

pairing; ot8/f.reader, 21.2k~

warnings; major character death, manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut (dubious), gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, mass murder mention, blood exchanging, lying, mass delusions

summary; you’ve finally gotten the chance to enter “clair de lune”, a infamous nightclub to see the band hiraeth. but why did you feel like their eyes only watched you?

note: this fic deals with the subject of yandere. with that being said, a lot of the things happening in this fiction will be manipulation, gaslighting, and various other techniques displayed by the characters. if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read.

thank you to my best friend @hongism rereading for me .. <3

Chapter 8:

“He brought her to where Yeosang is,” Yunho says softly, watching his friend pace back and forth. Endearing how worried he seems to be, though they all know the likely end of this. You will never be convinced to become one of them, and their time is slowly ticking down. Yunho himself wouldn’t mind turning you now, so that he may deal with the decades of anger sooner rather than later. The others, excluding Wooyoung, not so much. Especially Song Mingi, biting his lip as he ponders his thoughts.

Though Mingi showed a tough facade to you in the beginning, he has always been softer. Blunt, sure, but his worry seems to supersede everyone else’s. There was a time that it burdened him too heavily for any of the others to pull him out, Yunho barely succeeding at doing so. Seeing him close to what he was like before does bother Yunho, but there is surely some way out of this situation.

“You’re letting this worry you too much, Mingi,” Yunho says, flipping through another page of his comic. He snorts at the dialogue. His gaze moved to Mingi’s feet, seeming to burn a path into the hardwood. Despite wanting to finish the book - he’s lingered on the same chapter for a while - he places it to the side, trying to meet the eyes of his best friend. “Hongjoong won’t let her be hurt.”

“Yeosang gets into these sprees when he’s too overwhelmed. I’m worried he won’t see y/n when he’s there. There's a chance–"

“Nonsense,” Yunho waves him off. “He’ll smell her before anything else. Might pull him out of his rage.”

“Might is not definitive.”

“She will pull him out of it, all right? Mingi, don’t let this affect you so much.”

Mingi closes his eyes for a moment, thinking. “It’s as if everyone else can worry but me. Don’t look at me like that. Nothing will happen this time, not like before.”

Though Yunho doesn’t respond, that only seems to fuel Mingi further. He slowly starts his pacing again, fingers digging into the palms of his hands. It’s not enough to break skin, no, but Yunho watches as he begins to lose himself in his thoughts. Interrupting will only worsen the situation so instead, he waits for him to understand his thoughts, to think it through before saying something. Mingi stops, looking back at Yunho.

“Could Yeosang have been right this whole time?”

“Min…”

“I know,” he holds up his hand. “I know that he’s stuck in his head just like I am. But should we just dismiss his thoughts? Should we let ourselves go through all of this again? She’s died once before Yunho, and it feels like it’ll happen sooner rather than later. We’re taking the same path.”

“We’re not. We aren’t even pirates this time. It’s different, Mingi,” Yunho sighs, rubbing his face. “I haven’t shoved blood down her throat. And I doubt any of us will.”

“You’re not listening to me-“

“What do you want me to say?!” His voice rises as he stands from the couch. “Tell you that I’d rather live another one hundred torturous years than force her to turn? Because that’s not what I want, and I know that’s not what you want either. We don’t want her to die. But if we let her live a full life without attempting to turn her, we all will suffer without her being around.”

“But what if that's what she wants?"

Yunho narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Why are we so selfish to force our ideals when it’s not what she desires? Yeosang has been a shell of himself ever since he turned. Why do we assume that she will be the same as she is now? In fact,” his gaze is glued to the floor. “If she is the same, turning her will only exemplify her emotions. Her hate toward us will turn into pure abhorment.”

“Waiting hundreds of years knowing she’s alive is better than letting her life cycle restart.”

He holds in his horror at his words. Mingi knew that Rose's death affected Yunho horribly, especially knowing that he was the one that forced her to murder in the beginning. But speaking of you as if you're not your own person? Mingi decides it is best to no longer try and convince his friend. “You’re right,” he lets the lie slip through his anger. “We cannot endure this again, can we?”

“Have you not seen us?” Yunho snorts, slowly sinking back into the cushions. “Our self-torture can only go on but so far. It will be all fine in the end, Min. Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t.”

-

You’re not safe.

Hongjoong drags you through the front door, ignoring how you try to fight against his hold. It almost seems amusing to him, the slight smirk upon his lips, quirk of his brow. Enjoyment encasing his features. As if he finally has you and won’t let you go.

Your head is clearer now, absolute. Despite how kind any of them are – including Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi – they will never let you leave. It’s almost humorous to even think that they would have; each time you stepped a foot out of their gaze it was like you committed a felony. How unwise of you not to notice it sooner. It scares you how easily they’ve dug themselves into every part of your life - taking your home away, your friends. You’re sure there was influence on you applying for employment as well. Taking every escape away from you, keeping you to themselves.

“She will learn her place,” Hongjoong says, the grip on your arm so tight it feels as if he’ll pull it right from its socket. No matter how hard you tug he seems to ignore it, walking calmly pass the other men in the living area. The absence of Yeosang and Mingi is blatantly obvious, but you no longer have the will to ponder it. San and Wooyoung silently look on, quickly averting their gaze when you look at them. Yunho doesn’t, expression blank as he stares. Jongho, of course, does not bother facing you at all.

Seonghwa looks at you with pain. It’s sad how you no longer believe it to be real. Or at the very least, not for you. For the person's soul you've taken.

“We spoke about this, Joong,” Seonghwa starts, following close behind. “We said it would be different this time.”

He only scoffs, ignoring your screaming as he turns a corner. “What will we do then? Let her go on her merry way? You know that’s not possible now.”

“It is not now because you made it so,” he hisses, the two of them stopping in front of your door. Seonghwa crouches down, head tilted as he gazes upon you. All you can see is pity, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You flinch as he cups it, turning your head to meet his gaze. “It’s only for a few days. Just so that you get this out of your system, alright? We wouldn’t need to prolong it if there’s cooperation.”

“Fuck you,” you jeer.

"See?" Hongjoong seems to only sigh louder, pushing the door open and almost throwing you inside. You hold your head from hitting the floor, sliding across to the opposite side of the room. You struggle to lift yourself from the floor, body aching from the throw. You glance down at your hands, the blood from the dead in the restaurant dyed on your hands. You wipe them quickly, chest rising and falling.

There were so many dead. So many lives lost. You don’t notice how Seonghwa looks at you, wanting to step in and pull you out of your thoughts. He shuts his eyes for a moment, looking at his leader.

“Hongjoong.“

He holds up his hand. “She’ll learn her lesson soon enough. A few days of isolation will do wonders. Right, my sea?”

You don’t dare meet his gaze, nor try to run out the door. It’ll be foolish in the end, there’s eight of them and one of you. Why didn’t you listen to their advice?

Why didn’t you end it where it began?

-

It feels as if it’s spring outside; the window cracked just a bit for you to feel the warm breeze rush through. Vastly different from just a few days ago – the windchill almost suffocating, curtains closed as you tucked yourself beneath the blankets. You finally look away from the window when you see one of them appear, slowly making your way back into the cold sheets. Siyoon’s phone disappearing from the drawer only confirms your suspicions. If they are as guiltless as they make themselves out to be, it would still reside inside. Nothing sharp enough to hurt yourself with lying out and about. One of them searched your room when you left with Hongjoong. Now you’ll never know what happened to her. If she even survived her encounter with them.

The night Hongjoong dragged you back into this room is one you cannot forget. The pleas spilling from your lips as you begged for them to let you go, banging on the door. The sympathetic looks they gave you. As if you were the unstable one. As if all of this is your fault. Even Wooyoung, as guilty as he may be, gazed upon you with sympathy, an understanding nod as Hongjoong dragged you back inside, locking the door behind him. It's one of the last times you’ve seen him, and it’s been over a week since.

The first few nights were torture. They sealed your bedroom window, leaving it only open a crack for a bit of fresh air. The windows were coated with some sort of frost, hiding the outside world from your view. It only cemented the fact that no matter what you do or say, you’ll still be stuck in this room at the end of the day.

Now there’s nothing that could change your mind; Rose left for a reason. It wouldn’t surprise you if the two of you ended up in similar situations. Though she was stuck on a ship, and you are stuck in their home.

At least there’s the slightest chance that you can run.

“Your food is getting cold.”

Yunho stands at the door, hands tucked in pockets. He gives you a smile. You don’t have the energy to even pretend to care, shifting your gaze back to the frosted windows.

“No talking now?”

“Let me go.”

“Ah,” Though he speaks to your back, you can hear him run his fingers through his hair. “Eat and then we’ll talk about leaving.”

You roll your eyes, shifting your body to turn to him, “I should have noticed your lies from the beginning. It just comes so easily to you. What are you going to say next? I’m allowed to get some fresh air if I take a bite?”

His grin sticks, “Of course.”

“Go away, Yunho.”

“None of us want you stuck in this room, y/n,” he moves closer to the bed. You tense up immediately at his steps, eyes flicking to his hands. He holds them up in surrender, slowly sitting on the small stool. “We said it’d be temporary and we weren’t lying about that. If you want, you can sit outside and eat. I know you’re tired of looking out that window.” He gestures, dropping his hands. “We never wanted you to feel like a prisoner.”

“What a joke.”

“None of this would have happened if you cooperated,” he shrugs. “So, you want to go out or not?”

“If I say no?”

“Another week, unfortunately,” he frowns.

You slowly sit up, body numb from not moving for several hours. Yunho reaches out to steady you but you shift from his hand, shaking your head. They’ve hidden a lot from you; letting Yunho touch you is not the plan. You’d probably be put under some sort of spell. Of course, your imagination is very much working overtime, but months ago you wouldn’t have guessed that there was an underground vampire band that used to be pirates so consumed by their grief that they latch on to the reincarnation of their former lover.

Saying it in your head makes it even more unbelievable.

“You’re all sick, you know that right?” You murmur, sliding into your slippers. He doesn’t say anything, watching as you make your way to the plate of food. He takes it just as you’re about to grab it. “Yunho.”

“We’re going outside. You’re looking sickly without any sunshine, you should open the curtains a bit more. Light isn’t your enemy.” He steps to the side, gesturing to the open doorway. You’re not sure why the sight makes your anxiety start to rise. But you leave anyway, Yunho close behind you. The hallways are quiet as you step through the home. The back door is already ajar. You can see others just outside. One in particular stands out amongst the rest, sitting idly by the door. You still, causing Yunho to bump slightly into you as you do.

“I want to go back.”

“No.”

“Yunho–”

“I know there’s still a backbone in there somewhere, pretty,” he whispers, “Use it.” He pushes you slightly, forcing you to step further to the outside.

You stumble as you walk through the doors, desperately trying to calm your heart down enough. How have they beaten you down to the point where you cannot function properly around them? One man shouldn’t terrify you so much. You ignore his eyes, feeling them trail after you as you quickly make your way to the bench after slipping into your outdoor shoes, leaving the others to the side. The last time you were here, you enjoyed your time with Jongho. The memory is happy enough to ease your heart slightly, slow breaths escaping you. You sit down, Yunho placing the plate on a small table in front of you, a water bottle adjacent.

“See? Not so bad,” he pats the table, stretching. “I have to run out, but the others will keep you entertained enough. See you later, pretty.”

“Wait-”

He turns and walks before you can say another word. Your fists rest upon your thighs, gaze glued to the plate in front of you. From the quick glances before, you spotted Hongjoong, San, and Wooyoung lingering outside. Your body is too exhausted to think about where the others may be. The sun is bright today, hot against your skin as you slowly take a bite of the food. Your eyes move to the side, San and Wooyoung leaving promptly. You grip your plate, staring at the chest of the man who slowly makes his way over to you. Fear is what drives you now, looking in his eyes too much for you. All you can think of is the way he grinned as blood coated his hands and clothing, the way he laughed as he threw you into the room.

"Nice to see you after a few days, my sea," he sits on the grass in front of you, keeping enough distance for you to calm down slightly. You look back at the plate, unable to respond. "Nothing to say to me?"

"No."

He slowly drops his body against the lawn, hands resting behind his head. You inadvertently look at his face. The same sly smirk rests against his lips, brows lifting quickly when you finally look at his eyes.

You take another bite.

"Have you slept?"

"How could I when I'm in a house with people who want to kill me?" You say, teeth clenched.

"Being a vampire isn't killing you, y/n. It's another life. Extending your human one beyond what you can think of. It's a gift."

"It's a curse," you whisper. "Humans shouldn't live that long."

"Once you turn you're no longer human, so that doesn't really matter, does it?"

You place your chopsticks down, taking a slow breath. There's no use in speaking to him about it. He's lived long enough to twist your words. make it fit into his. And the other you’s probably had this same exact conversation with him dozens of times. “And then what comes after? Eternal suffering?”

“After turning? Anything you desire. You’ll have the world at your feet, just as we do.”

“It must be quite easy for you to assume,” you note, tucking your knees further into your chest. “Assuming that I will decide to live with you for however long I will be ‘alive’–“ you motion quotes with your fingers– “It’s a bit presumptuous to believe that I will never leave your side. And forcing me to will only work for so long. There will be a point when I decide that I’m sick of it and run.”

“You have yet to run though,” Hongjoong shrugs, gesturing to the gate. “It's been open for quite a while now but you lack an attempt to make a run for it.”

Scoffing seems to only lessen the impact of his words. What if you were to make a run for it? You doubt they would let you out of their sight for a moment. You can only think back to when Seonghwa let you go in that supermarket. You’re sure that everything would be in a different shape if you never arrived back home. What if… what if you didn’t show back up? Seonghwa gave you the out. The perfume that hides your smell, pheromones. You had the chance and you didn’t even take it.

Has there ever been a moment where you would have?

“Will you chase after me?”

He only smiles.

“Then what’s the point of me running? I doubt I’d get over the threshold without one of you stopping me.”

“Have you lost your drive to survive?” he raises a brow. “Or have you settled? The sea that I know wouldn’t allow us to keep her here without at least attempting to fight for it. It is only saddening to look at.” Despite his words his grin only seems to widen as he watches you. He’s desired this. He's always yearned for you to be subdued, underneath his fervent whims. Abiding by them only worsens the situation. But you cannot imagine yourself not giving up, fighting through it. You’ve tired yourself out over this year of meeting them. Who knew that the snarky woman at Clair de Lune would allow herself to be broken down into this empty shell? You know now that Rose wouldn’t have settled. She would have probably taken her life long ago.

It’s strange that you have yet to consider that path yourself.

“Who turned her?”

“Excuse me?” He’s mocking you now. "Couldn't quite hear you."

"Who turned Rose, Hongjoong? Which one of you did it?"

"Why do you care? Do you want to reenact it again? I wouldn't mind it, sure. But that's a bit strange even for you."

Oh. Fuck you.

“Wooyoung insists that it wasn’t him,” you start, knowing that this conversation could easily be turned on you. “And I believe him. But what I don’t understand is why her death is being hidden from me. What’s there to hide if she killed herself as you all have said? If it’s true, you could talk about it. If it’s true, you wouldn’t hide it from me.”

“Who are you to tell us what we’re thinking?” Though he still has the teasing grin on his lips, his eyes shifted, more narrowed. “Would it make you sleep better at night, knowing what truly happened to her? Would it change your mind about us, make you see us in a different light? Because as I see right now, you’re completely terrified of being in the same room as us. Pouring gasoline on the fire isn’t going to put it out.”

Though he doesn’t admit it blatantly, you can read between the lines. It’s true; Wooyoung didn’t kill her. He killed Yeosang, yes. But not Rose. And from what you know thus far Hongjoong wouldn’t hesitate to tell you it was him or Yeosang. He’d probably do it on purpose to make you fall deeper into yourself. But why hide it?

What would he gain?

Hongjoong stands, brushing off the strands of grass from his slacks. “I’d love to play with you some more, but we have a show. Mingi is somewhere around to entertain you whenever you decide to leave this spot. See you later, sea.” He waves slightly, leaving you alone outside. You glance at the open gate. There’s no one around that you can see but you know they’re watching. Waiting for you to take a step to it. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath.

Are you truly stuck here?

-

There seemed to be silent agreement amongst the men. Averted gazes, stepping out of the room when you enter. Even Wooyoung, as boisterous as he is, avoids you as you walk down the hallways. The feeling is eerie; watchful eyes at every corner, behind every door. The freedom to roam only makes you feel more trapped. More secluded. You wonder if this was their captain’s plan all along.

Your grip on the ceramic cup Mingi slides to you is tight. Lips firm. It’s strange how alone you feel in a house filled with people.

“Are you all right?” Mingi keeps his distance, leaning against the far wall. There’s a bit of a frown on his lips. He’s never shown you mock concern, but that was before you were forced into these walls. Now you don’t think your read of their expressions is accurate at all. “y/n?”

“Fine,” you remain tight lipped, placing your cup on the counter. You lift the coffee pot, slowly pouring it. You pretend not to notice the knives sitting on the countertop, only an arm’s reach away. “As fine as I can be while being kidnapped.”

You wait for him to excuse their behavior, say something along the lines of It’s not like that, we love you. A part of you hopes he does so you can tear apart the argument piece by piece. Instead, he nods solemnly, a sigh breaking the silence.

“It’s inexcusable.”

That makes you stop for a moment and turn to him. He sends you a closed-lipped smile, shrugging.

“There’s not much else I can say but that.”

“Shocked you’re not begging on your knees for me to forgive you,” you admit, placing the pot back down. The warmth causes a shutter through you, hands cupping the coffee. “Or telling me to go see Hongjoong.” Hongjoong told you just before he left that if you wanted to know details, you could just ask him. Alone, of course. Exactly the one thing you'd never do.

He laughs dryly then, “Would you even agree to it?”

“Hell no.”

“Then there’s no use in me even asking.”

“What’s up with you, Mingi?” Though the question is reasonable, there’s layers to it. He’s been off ever since that day the two of you were taken and kept in Subin’s home, or whatever it was. The day that he found out you were slowly being poisoned. It’s as if something shifted with him. Sure, he was annoyed with you in the beginning and it drifted to a fondness. But nothing this odd. He looks as if he’s in neverending pain.

Wait.

No. You’re not about to do this. There’s no reason to be worried for him. Feeling sympathy toward a person who is holding you against your will isn’t smart.

He shakes his head slowly, “I just, I worry for you. I know you won’t believe my words because I’ve broken your trust, but I am scared.”

“Of?”

“What we are doing to you,” his voice is low, eyes widening as he says it. His pupils tremble as they stare at you, full of aversion and panic. “I’m afraid of the past continuing to repeat. It’s frightening how similar it is.“

“You say that and yet here I stand across from you, unable to leave while you look at me with pity. I’ve got to say, Mingi, you almost fooled me.” You snort, ignoring the way your heart pounds. He can hear it, you’re sure of it.

“They’re not home,” he starts. “I’m the only one here.”

“So?”

“I’m the only one here,” he repeats.

You still, gaze moving back to him. “You would let me go?”

“You wouldn’t get far.”

“Mingi, you would let me leave right now?”

Though there is pain in his eyes, he nods. “I’d do anything for you. But you have to hurry, y/n. They’re—”

You don’t let him finish, dropping the cup from your hands and turning down the hallway. There’s no time to grab anything but your bag that hangs by the door. Just as you swing the door open, you meet the eyes of Jeong Yunho. His widens briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair.

“Didn’t I tell them that Mingi shouldn’t be home alone with you?” He steps inside, stepping around you. You don’t bother exiting the house, the others slowly making their way up the path. “Running away at the slightest chance. I told them this would happen. They were all worried about Seonghwa when we should have been watching Mingi.”

Mingi swallows slowly, looking at you with sympathy. The others enter the home, talking amongst each other as they step around you. They all wear their outfits from the show, not bothering to clean off the blood of their victims. Most are stained, except Jongho. And again, Yeosang is nowhere to be found. You doubt you’ll ever see him again after what you’ve witnessed. Hongjoong is the last to enter, slowly closing the door behind him. He closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the space above his brows.

“What was the end goal, my sea?” He asks, turning to you. “Where were you going to go?”

“Hongjoong—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping you just as you begin to speak. “Better that I not know so I don’t mess up your little plans, right?” His smile drops when he looks at Mingi, eyes narrowed. “You said you would watch her.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t think she would run—”

“A foolish thought. An even foolisher one that you would let her.” Hongjoong interrupts, eyes flicking to yours. “Yeosang would be hurt that you’d just run away, you know.”

“I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Is that so?” His brow lifts. “Then what about Mingi? Seonghwa? Jongho? You would leave us all without blinking?”

“This is not a life, Hongjoong!” Your voice rises, throwing your hands in the air. “What do you expect me to do? Just sit here and take it? Let you turn me into whatever you want? Generations of my soul didn’t want it, Joong. I myself don’t want it either. I just want to go home.” You can feel your breath quickening, heart beating against your chest. “Why won’t you let me go home?”

“What home, y/n? Your apartment is gone. Or are you speaking of your family? Parents? Oh my beautiful sea,” he tsks, shaking his head. “They don’t want you. They’ve never wanted you.”

“Stop,” you shake your head. “I won’t listen to you.”

He takes another step to you, forcing you to shrink into the corner of the room. The others do nothing to stop him. “You know it yourself. That’s why you ran to Seoul. Because they didn’t want you, remember? You begged for them to listen to your dreams, to accept you as you are. But they disowned you, told you that they were no longer your parents. You pleaded over and over but they only forced you out with one suitcase, and barely one thousand won. Pretending it didn’t happen doesn’t stop it from being true,” he places his hand on your cheek, pressing his lips against your forehead. They feel abnormally hot on your skin. “We’re your family now, y/n. We’ll take care of you.”

No. They didn’t… did they? Your memories begin to jumble. And just as clear as day, you remember the way your father shouted at you, telling you to leave. How you cried, falling to your knees. That’s not true, no. He loved you. He… hated you.

“I’m sorry Rose, it’ll be quick okay? Really quick, I will not let you suffer.” Jongho pushes his hand against your mouth as Rose–you, cry out. Your hands grip his arms, gagging as you accidentally swallow his blood. He pulls away, letting you fall to the wooden boards. You cough, desperate to get it out of your body. Realizing that you cannot, you try to stand, only for him to stand above you, holding a silver knife. His eyes are wide. He is smiling. Smiling as he stands over your body. You've never seen him this terrifying before. You try to speak, gagging at the blood in your mouth.

“It’ll be quick, Rose.” He brings it against your neck as you gasp, your screaming cut off. You feel it sink into your skin, gripping it tightly. Hongjoong moves around him, crouching next to you. His eyes flick over yours, ubiquitous glee radiating from his gaze. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead as the pain consumes you.

"y/n! Are you there? Can you hear me?" Jongho’s grip on you is tight. shaking your body over and over again.

Your hands grab his, pushing them off. He looks confused as he moves closer to you, but you cry out, backing up against the wall. The others look at you with worry, Hongjoong conveniently no longer in the room. You touch your face, wincing as your fingers brush against the cuts. When did they appear on your skin? Your eyes flick to Jongho, remembering. He killed you, her. Jongho was the one who did it.

It was never Wooyoung.

You fall to your knees, feeling him quickly move to touch you. "Get the fuck away from me!" Your head whips around, glaring. "Do not touch me, Jongho."

"y/n, I know a lot is happening right now—"

"You," your legs push you farther into the corner, eyes swelling with tears. "It was you all along. I thought it was Wooyoung, I blamed him but it was you. It was always you." The tremors through your body seem to only rise as you push through the thoughts. Your head throbs, eyes shut. "You killed her."

"Please just let me explain."

You shake your head, slowly standing. "She… you all lied. She never wanted to be like you, just like Yeosang. Both of them wanted to be human and you forced them to be like you. Because you're all fucked!" A half laugh, half gasp leaves your lips, thoughts scattered. "Why am I still here? I need to go, I need—"

"Why does every incarnation of you just never listen? Why do we have to go through this every time?" Yunho sighs, rubbing his face. "It would've been so easy if you just cooperated, y/n. It all would be easy." He slowly shuts the door behind him, the grip on his knife tightening. When did he get that? "We could've done it differently this time, my love."

The tension in the room shifts as he speaks. Wooyoung keeps his gaze low, Mingi staring at his friend. He looks furious, fists curled into themselves. “Yunho—”

“Say another word, Song, and I’ll kill you myself.”

"No one is killing anyone," Seonghwa enters the room, barely giving Yunho a glance. He looks at you, a small smile on his lips. "Want to talk? Alone?"

In all honesty you want to be left alone completely, but that will never be the case. Instead, you give him a weak nod, letting his hand slip into yours. Just as you're about to leave the room, you stop him. Whatever is happening between Mingi and Yunho, their friendship is crumbling in front of you. You just have this strange feeling that if you leave them alone something would happen. It's human nature; despite their lack of care for your own life, you care for theirs. Out of fear you avoid Jongho and Yunho's eyes, looking at Mingi.

"Can you come too?"

-

None of you say a word as you sit in the room together. Your head is tucked between your knees, breath shaky as you try to think this through. None of them will help you, you’re sure of it. Even with Mingi’s attempt, you’re sure he won’t do it as easily as before. Hongjoong might convince him otherwise. How he pulled those memories out of you, you’d never be able to explain. All of it is just so much, so heavily weighed on you. Everything is just too overwhelming.

“Do you need air?” Seonghwa asks softly, crouching in front of you. He doesn’t touch you or hold your hand and you’re thankful for it, emotions slowly taking over.

“I don’t know if I can take this anymore,” you admit, lifting your head just enough to show him your moist gaze. “My friend is dead, my parents disowned me. Seungwoo tricked me into caring about him and he’s gone now too. Yeosang is…” Your voice catches in your throat. “I have no one, Seonghwa. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone. I’m alone.”

Waiting for his reassurances, telling you that you have them, it never comes. He rests his head against the foot of the bed, barely a centimeter or so away from where you rest. Your body shakes, trembling. You wonder if he realizes that there’s nothing he could say that would convince you that you’re not in danger, that you’re safe around them. The more you think about it, he’s a part of the few who told you that they apologize for what they’ve done - despite continuously doing it. It all feels mute now. The more you try to convince yourself that everything is fine, the more you fold into your own thoughts.

Nothing is fine. You’re sure that it never was.

“Was it the change that made him do it?” You ask, “Did turning into this make him unstable? Make all of you not as you were?”

Mingi scoffs, a light laugh escaping him. “It’s like we’re experiencing the same conversation over again.”

“You should have learned from the first time. Rose warned you and yet you made her take her life because she was terrified of all of you. You did this to her, whether you’d like it or not.” All of the visions are beginning to add up. Realizations one after the other. In the end Hongjoong was right; it didn’t matter who killed Rose, or this Cassia that he mentioned. It didn’t matter because your soul would never be free if they continued this cycle. Each time you died was because you rejected one of them. Hongjoong was the first, sure, but whatever poison that infects their bloodstream made all of them the same. All of your thoughts are forming one conclusion.

You have to let them turn you.

The thought makes you ill, body shivers. It makes sense. Every rejection led to death, every single time. Even now, before this revelation, you promised yourself you’d find a way to end your life before living as a vampire. But why let your soul continue the endless torture when you can just stop it? Perhaps you would enjoy your life after this. Maybe, eventually, you’ll learn to love them, enjoy them. You did before all of this. It wasn’t hard. It was strangely easy.

You reach to the side, opening your drawer to grab a tissue. You tense up, remembering that Siyoon’s phone is no longer in its place.

“Did you listen to anything I’ve said?” Seonghwa asks, pulling you away from the drawer. “Are you alright?”

You stare at the blank space, blinking slowly. “Can we have dinner together?”

His eyes widened, looking back at Mingi before standing. “Oh, I can grab a plate for you. I think Yunho was preparing something—”

“No, I want to eat together. With everyone, if that’s okay.”

-

The room is loud. Having eight people talking all at once, laughter in the air as they speak of different things makes you forget for a moment that they aren’t evil. That you’re not safe the longer you stay here. Your resolution from before begins to crack. Are you truly okay with being one of them? The metal smell of blood seeps through the air, your stomach turning as you watch them swallow it from glasses, mixed with other strange substances. None of them mention Yeosang’s absence, the chair pushed in as they pass around miscellaneous things. You can’t help but focus on it. He’s hated his life for over a hundred years. Your heart feels like it’s sliding through your body, sinking into the old hardwood floors. It’s scary, the effect he has on you. His absence has gone through you, you’ve tried burying the thoughts but they only seem to come back into your shaky hands, consuming every waking thought.

Is this how they feel? You planned this dinner to be an intervention, to question them as to what happened to Siyoon’s device. But all you’re doing is selfishly thinking of yourself and not her. Perhaps you’re not much different from them. It’s far too late to run away. Each part of them already lives there. You wish that you had more time. Your eyes shift to Jongho. Did you love him, despite it all? The way he pressed his hand against her lips, forced her to turn. He did not do that to you, no. But would he? Would your Jongho make you choke on his blood with a tender look in his eyes as your life faded? He seems to notice your stare, round eyes meeting yours. There’s care in them, worry, hurt. Regret. The feelings are so overwhelming that you force yourself to leave his eyes, watching the others. He doesn’t look away. Is this feeling what most want? To have someone unable to look away even when you have?

“Which one of you took Siyoon’s phone from my drawer?” The table silences in an instant. You look up from your cold dinner, sliding your gaze from face to face. None of them speak up, as if you didn’t ask a question at all. You swallow slowly. “Is she dead?”

“Yes,” Jongho speaks up. The tone is careful as he whispers. “But I want you to listen to my words carefully, y/n—”

You should have known. Nothing can be good with them. Nothing. “One of you killed her.”

Jongho shakes his head, “y/n—”

“Stop! Stop making me think I’m some fucking crazy person!” You stand up from your seat, hands gripping the wooden table. Through your anger you can see how Hongjoong sips his drink silently, not saying a word. “One of you took her phone away from me and probably destroyed it before I could read what’s on it. Pretending that you didn’t hurt her in any way to keep me here. Jongho, your lies aren’t going to work this time. Not. This. Time.”

“Would you like her phone?” Hongjoong’s brow quirks. He digs into his pocket, the familiar cases appearing in his hands. Without another word, he stands, placing it in front of you. The familiar pink casing staring back at you. “Be my guest. Fair warning; you won’t enjoy what’s on there. She wasn’t the kindest person in the world.”

You ignore his warnings, immediately entering her password. The table is quiet as you look through the various apps. Nothing is out of sorts, not even her emails. Your thumb hovers over the messages, before pressing the icon. It’s filled with unread messages, most sending their sympathies and condolences. But your brows furrow at one chat, the name of it unsettling.

You open it. It’s a group chat between her and several others, many of whom you recognize as acquaintances you met through Siyoon. You read through it, each message sinking in. Insults in between jokes about you, many of which are from Siyoon herself. Endlessly complaining about you, telling the rest that she was using you for her own gain. Messages that date back to even before you met the men who sit in front of you now. Your vision begins to blur as you control to scroll, stopping at the first message in the group chat.

It was a week after you met Siyoon.

siyoon: think we can use her for better grades?

You close the phone, mouth dry. "Did you kill her?"

"No," Jongho says again. “That night, the night we met. She was with someone, they said. A Jaehyeong? I can’t remember his last name. But they were together, and he…” Jongho trails off. “It was a car accident, y/n. They both died.”

The air feels colder as you think back to the night. Leaving her with him despite the red flags. She wasn’t drunk, nor was he, but there was just something off about that night. You were too involved with yourself to think it through clearly. In fact, you’re sure that you told her to message you when she got back home. Thinking about it now, you’ve never received that text.

You don’t take their word for it, opening the web browser on her phone and typing in their names. It’s the first article of a few, a car accident that killed the lives of two innocent young adults. No alcohol in their systems. The phone slips through your fingers, face down against the table.

“How long did you know?” You ask softly. “How long?”

“Not too long after Seonghwa saw you in the bookstore,” Yunho admits, taking another sip of the drink. “We didn’t know you well enough back then, so we thought you knew of it already. It was a bit of a shocker that you didn’t up to this point. When we found the phone in your drawer, that’s when we realized where you went when we lost you in the supermarket.”

Your head slowly shakes on its own as the information sinks in. Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the men in the room exchange looks over you.

“She’s gone.” You hold your hand over your mouth, tears falling down your cheeks, dripping against the table. Seeing your friend Siyoon, her words egregious, makes you feel all but nauseous. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone, but it hurts knowing she felt that way about you. That you were just a tool in her life, when you thought you were more than that.

You've felt alone before, but the sinking feeling that you have not one person in this world who cares about you is utterly terrifying.

-

Hongjoong sits on the balcony, Seonghwa and San across from him. He tends to a cup of wine, sipping slowly as he looks out into the surrounding forest. He hasn’t heard from Mingi or Jongho, guiding you to your room once you’ve found out. A part of him forgot that you still had that brief connection with the woman, immediately giving the phone to Wooyoung once he found out about it. He’s thankful that you were too distraught to notice anything strange about the messages, dates and communications slightly off. But it convinced you enough, the device forgotten as you sink into your grief.

He glances at the other two across from him, lids heavy. “Would either of you care so much for a woman who insulted you and used you in your past?”

San hesitates before speaking. “They were friends, Hongjoong. She cared for her. It would be hard not to feel immense grief at the thought of losing someone that close. She will be devastated for a long time.”

He sighs, taking another sip. “Then we have to delay turning her.”

“Is this… not too far?” Seonghwa asks, already predicting his answer. “She has lost her friends, family. You never told us you would manipulate her thoughts that way. Now she believes that her family hated her.”

He merely shrugs, “They would have anyway once they saw their daughter as one of us. Her parents were quite traditional. She hid every relationship from them in fear of their rejection. Ours wouldn’t have been much different.”

“And Yeosang, then? Will we continue to force them apart?”

“Of course not, hyung.” It’s a farce in itself, knowing that Hongjoong is thousands of years older than he is. “Do you truly consider me that mad?” He rolls his eyes. “I told Yeosang to come home whenever he likes. He is the only one preventing himself from entering these doors. He’s afraid of what she might say to him. Not unwarranted — she did see him at his lowest. It would be a bit hard for her to see him without imagining that blood covering his body.”

“I just don’t understand,” San stands from his spot. “How will all of this make her want to be one of us? She’s just brewing in her hurt now. It’s worse than Rose now. There’s no chance she’d agree, or live that long to accept herself.”

“You never think of the bigger picture, San. She is hurting so badly now, thoughts darker and more vulnerable. Now she really has no one but us. There's no need to convince her because she'll come to the conclusion herself." He grins, leaning further back in his seat. "And I will be waiting with open arms."

-

Wooyoung wipes the blood against his jeans, some of it sticking to the underside of his nails. They haven't killed anyone; their thoughts wiped as they stumble down the street, told to go back to their homes. He slumps himself onto the bench. After being turned he considered himself a less caring man. He knows it, more than the others tell him. But seeing you so defeated… it made him feel filthy. No amount of blood draining helps him forget the distant look in your eyes. You looked so alone. It reminded him of his former life; abandoned and distraught. He knows that if Seonghwa didn't find him sooner, he wouldn't have survived for much longer.

He lifts his hands, staring at his palms. Is this what they've become? Shells of their former selves? Losing you devastated him. He could remember the murder sprees they went on, full of grief. Not caring who or what they killed. So consumed with turmoil for years. He thought that when he saw you again, his peach, it would be okay again. You would love him as you did before with ease, care for him. But it just feels the opposite. That he's trying to convince you to give him a chance.

He leans his head back, staring at the night sky. It's a bit colder now despite the change in seasons, the summer breeze chilly.

He scoffs, rubbing his face.

Maybe he is completely delusional.

-

Your knees are tucked close to your chest. You're not sure if you can cry anymore, body exhausted from the hours of sobbing. You stare at the door, knowing that even if they're giving you space, you couldn't do anything without them knowing. Their hearing far supersedes yours. It wouldn't surprise you if your heart beat is being listened to. You close your eyes for a moment.

You have nothing. Just them, just their endless and unconditional affection. No friends, no family. Not even a slip of a memory that Rose could give you. Nothing.

It's scary to think about.

"I want to see him." You whisper.

It pains you to even think of his face, but you need to see him. You need him to tell you that he's there. That he won't abandon you when you make your choice.

"Please."

-

Mingi stands outside the abandoned cemetery. His hand grips the rusted gate, chest tight. It's funny that he could feel it despite his heart no longer functioning at all. All of them know where he went. It's hard not to when they're all so in tune to each other. But here? The place that Mingi avoided with everything that he had. The place they buried their beautiful Rose. He takes a long breath, taking slow steps inside. Her grave isn't too far away from the entrance, but it makes him want to break down the closer he gets. He spots Yeosang not too far off, sitting in a folded chair, eyes glued to her grave.

He wears the same outfit he left home that night. Clothing still stained with dried blood, ripped every which way. Smell putrid, nauseating if Mingi were a human. But he's used to the smell of the dead. It's a smell that appears when they haven't fed or moved in a while. None of them really let themselves get that far into decaying, but Yeosang does quite often. A form of self torture, Mingi thinks. A method that he once used when he let his thoughts take over.

"That's something you and y/n have in common. Never say a word until I speak up," Yeosang says. His voice sounds hoarse. This is probably the first time he's said a word aloud in weeks; deeper tone much more so. He doesn't move though, back still facing Mingi as he makes his way over. "I'm not going back if that's what you're here for."

"We want to make sure you're okay."

"Right. They wouldn't send you if they did care."

"You know we care, Yeosang. Don't start with that," Mingi knows he's partially correct. Hongjoong planned on coming himself but Mingi insisted it be him. Wooyoung was usually the first to break Yeosang. Mingi never really understood how to speak to him. They're friends, sure. Family. But he and Yeosang aren't as close as the others. There's often silence when they're together. Comforting, but quiet. "I wanted to come."

"Did you." A statement, more than a question.

"It's been weeks, Yeo."

“And it’s usually years before one of you decides to come find me.”

Mingi sighs, “You know it’s different this time.”

“Ah yes. This time you have your Rose, and you want everything to be perfect for her. My apologies for messing things up again. Tell Hongjoong I give him my condolences.”

“She’s not just mine.”

“No, she’s his. She’s always been his. Alas, I have forgotten,” He rolls his eyes, “What do you believe is holding us together after all these years? And if there is any answer other than her, it’s a lie. We’ve all desired in different ways, what we would do if she came back to us. And now that she’s here, everyone is only caring about their own feelings. Have you not considered hers? Do hers matter in the grand scheme of things? Do we truly want her for as she is now, or how she was before?

“You think we don’t care?”

“Not necessarily. I think you care for a woman who’s no longer there. What do you know of her now that isn’t something from before? Wooyoung called her peach with such ease, Hongjoong called her his sea. Nothing that we have done thus far is for the woman in front of us now. We have wrecked her life so that we ourselves can live in a falsehood. The only reason we still tolerate each other after decades of fighting is because we have her as the reward at the end. You may consider me wrong, fine. But I’m not deluded into this fantasy that you’ve all formed.”

Mingi looks at Yeosang sitting on the rock. He looks tired for an immortal, eyes heavy, skin paler from lack of blood supply. It’s strange that despite all his words Mingi can tell that he loves her. He was never this passionate about Rose, never this protective over her well-being. In a bizarre way, the man sitting in front of him may love you more entirely. No one fights for a life this desperately without love.

“You adore her, don’t you, Yeo?” Mingi asks softly. His brows seem to furrow in pain at the question, mouth opening and closing. He takes a long breath, gaze on the city in front of them. “What will you do, then? Let us turn her?”

“... I can’t stop it.”

“You’d give up so easily?” Mingi’s brow lifts.

“Have you? You tell me to do something you know I cannot, and complain about me being resigned in my position? And make it into my problem when you're as concerned as I?" He scoffs, sinking deeper into his seat. "Mingi, you've lived long and have known me well enough to not ask stupid questions."

"I'm accepting it because I don't see another way," he admits. "You wish to no longer be immortal, but I can't imagine not being one. I can't imagine being a human again. And I can't imagine losing her because of it. It's horrid, no need to look at me like that."

Yeosang tries to fix his expression, only twisting further into silent disgust. He looks away from his friend. The sky seems more interesting than the conversation they're having. "I'm glad you know how stupid you sound."

"I know. Might be because we're all slowly falling into our madness without you around."

"Shiny words won't make me come back."

"...She needs you, Yeosang. More than you know. I think you're the only one who can pull her out of this."

"Nothing you say is going to make me want to come back—"

"She asked for you."

Yeosang is silent. It feels like a lifetime has passed when he speaks up again.

"Lying is a sin."

"Then my words must make me all the more blessed."

Yeosang grips the railing, "Did she truly, Mingi? You aren't fibbing this time? Hongjoong didn't put you up to this?"

"No. Yeosang, you're a fuck-up just like the rest of us. But she loves you. She wouldn't give up on you."

Yeosang sucks in a breath, turning back to the grave. He lifts his hand, as if to reach out. Instead, it limply falls back to his knee.

"I love her, Mingi. I love y/n, I probably love her more than I've ever loved Rose. And it fucking terrifies me," he runs his fingers through his hair, only causing it to stick up more. "I can't see her because I will break down. I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't forgive me. I don't even deserve to be forgiven for killing all of those people. I—" He looks at Mingi, eyes glazed over with a pink tint. "I would try to turn her right then and there to make her forget."

“You wouldn’t.”

“And I would have believed that before everything happened. Now I’m not too sure. It might be what Hongjoong is banking on. Me losing control like I always do. I can’t, Mingi. I can’t see her when I’m like this,” he glances down at himself, thumbing his soiled clothes. “Even more so with this on me. It’ll just remind her of what I’ve done.”

“One, you’re not going to hurt her,” Mingi holds up his hand when he sees Yeosang opening his mouth. “And two, take a shower?”

"Mingi…"

"Prolonging it will only make it worse in the end. Don't be a fool, Yeosang. We already have enough of those around us, including me."

Yeosang turns back to the headstone, a solemn look on his face. "Rose would strangle us all if she knew what we're doing. In moments like this, I cannot help but miss her presence. She was often kind but stern with her words. I am sure all of us would have been scolded to the ends of the Earth."

Mingi's lips curve into a small smile. "We'd leave with burning ears and ringing heads."

Yeosang laughs then, shaking his head. His smile slips again, swallowing slowly. "I'll think about it, Mingi. I know you're not lying, and she requested me. But though she is ready, I'm not. Not yet."

"Then I will stay with you until you are."

"You don't have to do that," he glances at him. "I know you dread this place."

Mingi only sinks to his knees next to his friend, resting against the side of the large rock. Yeosang does not discourage him, allowing him to join as they stare at the stone.

At their Rose.

-

You can't remember how much time has passed. Sadness burdens your soul, your feet dragging against the tiles, barely acknowledging anyone who passed by. Holding back your tears each time you think of your friend. It's enough that you've broken down in front of them, it would be silly for it to happen over and over again. Your pride speaking, but it's all you have left.

You feel the air shift as you're shifting your blankets on the bed. Your grip tightens when you sense someone standing at the doorway. They've announced themselves each time, but this feels much different. You slowly let go of the sheets, turning around. His hair is in disarray, baggy sweats covering him. Eyes bloodshot, skin paler than usual. Frightened as well, hand gripping the doorway, fingers almost digging into the wood. His body trembles, lip between his teeth as he stares.

"Yeosang?" Your voice is rough, eyes moist.

His smile is slight, swallowing slowly.

"Hi, pretty."

He steps inside, sliding his hand against the wall. He stops when he's on the far opposite wall, glancing around your room. It's in as much disarray as he looks. Clothes thrown everywhere, items in the wrong places. His eyes stay on the window briefly, the bars against it making his brows furrow for a moment, before relaxing.

"I heard about your friend."

You slowly nod, sinking into the mattress. "It hurts, Yeo."

"I know." His head tilts. "It must hurt plenty."

"Unbelievably so," you whisper, looking away from him. "I think… I should be used to hurting. It's happened for a while now. But everytime I think about it I just, I can't. I never got to say goodbye."

"You love her."

You force out a laugh, "Yeah, despite all of the shit I read. I can't help but still love her. I have so many questions I can't ask and it feels like… I don't know."

"A hole. One you can't ever fill because she's gone," he rests his hands above where his heart should be, blinking slowly. "And you relive the moment you last saw her over and over again in your head, trying to make sense of it all but you can't because grief is just too hard."

The familiar tightness in your chest twists inside of you as he speaks. He looks at you, understanding. You can't respond, a sob waiting to escape.

"Tell me where it hurts, pretty. You can point to it if you want."

You hover your hand over your chest, lightly resting it against your skin. Yeosang takes a slow step toward you. He's still trembling, one hand tucked into his pocket. He looks at you before he touches you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod, and he places his hand upon yours. It's quite cold in comparison to yours, the beating of your heart filling your ears.

Kang Yeosang slowly crouches in front of you, gaze and head moving to meet your eyes. "I'm here."

It's enough for the sob to leave your mouth, your hand entwining with his as you let go. You've found it so hard to walk through everyday, you dreaded the moments when you were alone. Your grief grew so heavy inside of you it felt as if you were becoming numb. But he says two words to you with such ease, and you fall apart.

It utterly terrifies you.

Hours must have passed, the exhaustion of your sadness guiding you back beneath your sheets. Yeosang does not dare touch you, but he stays just a couple of feet away, Head resting on his forearm as he watches you from your bed. Neither of you have said a word for quite a while now. You wonder if he is waiting for you to speak up, or will he do it on his own. There's several questions you'd like to ask, but now being with him, you no longer have the will to.

He adjusts himself in the cushion seat, pushing strands away from his forehead. "I could remember the first night that I lost Rose. I was inconsolable. All of them were too stricken with their own grief to help me with mine which I cannot blame. I starved myself over and over again to the brink of becoming solidified, but one of them fed me blood, enough to keep me alive. After about a decade or so… I expressed my grief in a way I hate to speak about. One that you witnessed not too long ago," His eyes shift to yours. "There is no right way to process it, but there are wrong ways. I have taken the wrong path more times than I can count. Sorry wouldn't work in a situation like this."

You can't speak up, the blood covered hall flashing in your memory. You've suppressed enough so that you're able to sleep, at least. "Do you often express extreme emotions this way?" You ask.

He covers his face with his hands. "I haven't in decades. This is… an outlier. I shouldn't have done it, but seeing you there in the midst of it all, it made me realize how far I've lost myself. I let my mind sink into the primal urges. I let myself get that bad, y/n. Forgiveness is not what I can ask of you, and neither could I tell their families I was the one who broke them." He swallows slowly. "I can remember their faces, the glimpses of fear. And it hurts to say that I cannot give much remorse because I know of what they've done. I know the lives that were lost because of their greed. Their faces are burned into my mind. Each and every life I took."

A pause.

"I am the monster I've always thought I was."

Comfort is not what you can offer in this situation, nor forgiveness. Trusting the judicial system is not something you believe in either, but neither is mass murder. You can only nod, shifting your eyes away from him. "You made a decision that you thought was right at the time. I cannot fault you for it." What the hell are you saying? He murdered people. You should be running out that door, not chatting it up. But all your mind could think of is helping him. Letting him know you're not giving up on him.

Perhaps he isn't the only monster in the room.

"I wish I could hate you," you confess. "I really wish I could sit here and say that I hate you and I want to never see you again. And I hate it even more that I can't. I can't hate you, Yeosang," you whisper. "You've lived a life you never wanted, you've done things because of it. It's inexcusable, but it's not surprising given the circumstances."

"y/n…" He starts, but you interrupt.

"All I can think about is that you're safe, Yeo. You're back, and you're safe. And I get to see you again. I don't know what to do about what you've done, but I'm just happy that you're here with me. That you didn't leave me."

"We're both a little fucked in the head, aren't we?"

You snort at the harsh words. “A little is an understatement.”

He leans back, staring at you. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, until he notices you look away, rubbing your arms. He closes his eyes, humming. “Mingi came to me. Told me to come back.”

“Where were you?”

His lip lifts, “At Rose’s grave. We don’t often visit it because of the harsh memories, but I like to. Gives me a chance to clear my head, think things through.”

“You can speak to the dead?”

He laughs, “No. I can speak to a stone though. She’s likely scolding us for how we’re acting.”

“Would she?”

He nods immediately. “No hesitation. She hated when we did stupid things, moreso things like this. I wouldn’t believe alive if she were here. She would…” he paused for a moment. “She would hate what we’ve done to you.”

Your smile fades the same time as his, the room shifting into a silence. It’s not as comfortable as before, his words forcing you to confront what’s happening right in front of you.

-

“She trusts him.”

“It was broken when she saw him hurt those people.”

“Was it really broken? Do you truly believe that she would ask for him to see her if it were true?”

“Then what do you want me to do, San? Stop them from seeing each other? I’ve done that endlessly, since the beginning. And it’s like it no longer matters because she will find a way to see him again. It’s just as it was before. Trying to separate them will only lead to her end. And I’m not sure if I can handle losing her again,” Wooyoung shakes his head slowly. “I’m not sure any of us could handle it again.”

“What do you propose?” San swallows slowly. Wooyoung doesn’t notice how San’s voice weakens a bit, glancing flicking up before looking back at him. “Joong isn’t going to be happy. He wants there to be difficulty in reconciling between them. But they’re inside chatting it up as if nothing happened.”

Wooyoung glances up from his spot on the bench, the curtains to your room closed. It’s been a while since Yeosang came back, the two of you inside the room for several hours now. Despite having the ability to listen he didn’t this time, knowing that it would hurt you even more. Getting on your good side is hard, but he’s willing to do whatever it takes. And if that means being unable to interfere with Yeosang, then so be it.

“I’m not going to do it.”

“Wooyoung…”

“San, I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t. She already hates me for doing it before.”

“Then this won’t change anything.”

Wooyoung slowly shakes his head, “San…”

“Do you expect her to just forgive you? She’s not going to forgive the man who destroyed her love’s life. You turned Yeosang, remember? You were the one who made him this way because of your jealousy. She saw it in her head. She won’t forget it.”

Wooyoung presses his hands over his ears, nails digging into his scalp. “San, please—”

“She won’t ever love you.”

“Stop!” Wooyoung stands, pushing past his friend and entering the house. He disappears within an instant, leaving him alone to stand outside. San’s express drops, fingers dragging through the loose strands that frame his face. His eyes flick up to Hongjoong’s balcony. Said man stands there, tending to a cigarette. His grin is wide as he looks at San, a light laugh escaping him.

San could only give him a pathetic smile back and enters the house a few seconds after Wooyoung.

-

The conversation with Yeosang ended there with him mumbling an excuse to leave. You confronted him just as he was about to go, your eyes asking if this were the last time you’d see him. He pressed his lips to your knuckles just then, a soft I won’t leave you anymore falling from his lips before he disappeared down the hall. And he kept his promise since then.

You left your room often now, the others roaming around the hallways. Vastly different from before, greetings exchanged, laughs echoed. It was as comfortable as it could be. You even laughed at something Jongho said to Mingi while they were arguing, and his eyes lit up at the sound. Sure, it was brief and you immediately shifted your gaze, but it was something to him. And if that was the beginning of you forgiving him, he was going to accept it.

Surprisingly, to everyone else and yourself, you slowly began speaking to Hongjoong. At first it was very brief, good mornings and goodnights in the beginning. But now, you let him sit beside you while a movie played in the living room. You even let him serve you dinner. Astonishing, the others knowing that his cooking skills were sub-par in comparison to so many of the other men. Hongjoong took it well, each step in your relationship seemed to build it closer to a good one.

You, of course, did not feel the same.

Each building block is a seed planted in his head. To bring you closer to him, so that he trusts you. Trust you enough to where you can get close.

Close enough to kill him.

The plan isn’t foolproof, you’re sure there’s a part of him that suspects it’s a ruse. There’s no forgetting the dozens of times you’ve told him that you would never be anything to him, that you’ll hate him as long as you live. But maybe if you go slow, if you let a few months pass, you’ll convince even him. It’s a long shot, no telling, but you have to try.

It’s been a couple of months now living with them. You thought you’d hate every moment being there, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. Your laughter and humor is real, the smiles you exchange with everyone are genuine. More often than not you remind yourself why you’re still there, what you’re doing. But most days you forget, enjoying your time spent with them. How easily have you fallen underneath their web.

“Another?” Mingi whines, scrolling through his calendar. “I thought we limited shows to Fridays only?”

“Unlike you,” Yunho wiggles his finger. “Some of us like to feed more than once a week.”

“Then I can stay?” his eyes brighten, only to be shut down by Hongjoong entering the room.

“No, you can’t. Jongho needs someone to guard with him and make sure things are okay while we’re feeding. And you stayed home with my sea last week.”

Mingi throws his head back in utter agony, pout deepening. You watch them, eating your apple. Wooyoung gave up on buying peaches and you’re more than thankful for his change of heart. Hongjoong leans against the wall, glancing at you. There’s something there, something you can’t quite decipher.

“But no one has fed in a while. Any of us,” San points out, glancing around the room. “We should all go.”

“You all can go,” Hongjoong says, shrugging. “I’ll stay with y/n. We have some things to discuss.”

The others look at you, questions in their eyes. You’ve immediately learned their different expressions. These are of worry, and confusion. You don’t trust Hongjoong, you never will… But you know he wouldn’t kill you. At least, not right now. You hope.

“Fine with me,” you continue to eat your snack. “I’ll see you all later, then?”

Mingi’s dragged out of the seat by Yunho, the others slowly disappearing to their designated rooms, getting dressed for the concert. Hongjoong lingers in the kitchen with you, humming. He opens the fridge, tsking at the lack of food inside. “I told Seonghwa to go shopping.”

“No big deal,” you murmur. “I’ll be going out soon enough with him. It was supposed to be today, but I guess it’ll happen tomorrow.” The others pass by again, waving goodbye as they leave. Eventually the two of you are alone, Hongjoong exiting the kitchen.

“Didn’t you want to speak to me about something?” you ask just as he’s about to disappear down the hallway. He glances back, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to be alone with you. A bit greedy, that’s all,” he flicks his brows up, waving goodbye. “Have a good night, my sea.” With that, he exits, leaving you alone in the kitchen. It's an open invitation to follow.

One that you take.

You close the door behind you to his room. You haven't entered it at all. It's similar in size to everyone else's, his bed slighter larger in comparison, a balcony just a few steps away from it. He moves quickly, pressing you against the door frame. Your breath hitches, his lips trailing along the back of your neck.

“Do you even like me?”

Hongjoong’s hand slides up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He turns you around. He rests just below your cheek, tilting your head towards him so as to guide your gaze to his. Despite how warm his eyes look, you can see the tightness in his jaw, the resolute tilt of his lips. He blinks slowly, humming as his thumb trails along your face. “Shall I slay every person who has ever looked at you with disdain to prove it?”

You laugh, though knowing the truth behind his words. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would in fact listen if you asked him to do so. But you play it off as if he’s facetious, shaking your head. “I asked if you liked me, not for you to murder in my name.”

“I would give you anything, my sea. Of course I like you.”

You wonder if he believes his own words.

“I’m just waiting for you to say you like me.”

“Unlikely,” you snort, placing your hand on his. You hear his breath hitch, eyes flicking to your touch. You never noticed how easily it was to make him off balance, lose his nonchalance. There has been endless doubt on how much you afflicted Hongjoong, but there is little now. You would just have to persuade him that you do care, even if it is a mere fraction of his. With that in mind you move yourself off the door and walk to the mattress, ignoring the beating of your heart, nerves coating your palms as you wipe them against your thighs. You sit on the edge, his speed quickly. In a moment, he's sitting on the edge with you.

Hongjoong watches you in curious silence. Just as he’s about to leave forward, you lift your leg, straddling him. He looks up at you in mild surprise, lips parting and shutting. Leaving Kim Hongjoong astounded? Perhaps you are good at this manipulation game.

You lean forward, palms resting on either side of his face. Just a breath apart. You stare at his face, taking in each part of him. The scar of his brow, the light moles adorning his skin. The soft curve of his lips. He is beautiful, no doubt.

“I do like you, Kim Hongjoong. Despite how out of your mind you are.”

His hands go to rest on your thighs, lids heavy as he stares at you. His smile rises, gaze now on your lips. “I’ve lived with you for many lives. Each one different from the next. I’ve known your soul longer than you've known yourself. It's fairly easy to know when you’re being deceitful.”

You ignore how your body shivers as his hands travel to your hips, squeezing slightly. It’s a game he’s played for thousands of years, while you’ve only known him for less than a percentage of that. But one thing you do know: you are his weakness.

“How can I prove it?” You ask, leaning closer. Your nose brushes against Hongjoong, a shuddered breath escaping his lips. His grip tightens on your hips, pressing you harshly against him. He presses against your lower stomach, hard against your softer skin.

“You tell me.”

"Have you ever…?" You trail off.

He rolls his eyes. "I've fucked before, love. Just never with you. Something always seemed to get in the way. You dying, mostly. But I have never made love." His lip brushes against your forehead.

"I don't love you," You murmur, and he only laughs.

"Even you aren't a good enough liar to convince me otherwise. But all I ask is one thing from you." He watches your gaze, hand dragging along your body, before touching your face. “I want you to be mine,” his fingers release your chin, slowly wandering along the outline of your jaw.

“All yours?” you breathe.

“Mine,” he agrees with a whisper so low that you feel it all the way down to your pelvis. His hand suddenly slips downward to firmly grasp the back of your neck, pressure light. “Let me be yours.” The feelings that stir in you now as his head tilts to the side and he wets his bottom lip are separate from anything that may be fearful — and that’s the thought that terrifies you. There’s no use in saying that you’re not attracted to him; you always have been. The realization that you're beneath him now, after so long of resisting and fighting the temptation — you can’t deny the frantic pounding of your heart. And you wouldn't be able to fib in the slightest, Hongjoong can feel it as it goes anyway.

“You’ve tortured me for so long,” he leans closer to you, free hand resting on the side of your body, trapping you beneath him. “I have to admit that I’m shocked to see you beneath me this way. Is this unwanted?” he asks softly, eyes flicking between yours. “Despite my desires, I wouldn’t want this to be forced.”

You have an agenda. And a small part of you feels as if he might know what it is. But the way he’s looking at you now, a glimmer of hope shines beneath it.

“No,” you reply. With that, he takes your mouth with his own. His soft lips press ardently against yours, desire spilling each time he slightly pulls away. Your hands slide into his hair, body relaxing into the mattress. You part your lips, his tongue seeking out yours whilst he grabs a hold of your thigh to drag both your legs closer to him He lies himself on top of you, and all the while his darkened eyes never once leave yours, his jaw tensed but breathing heavy.

As Hongjoong delves back in, his tongue rolls inside your mouth and he lets out a low-pitched groan, your body arching up into his palm that begins to fondle your breast through your shirt. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging harshly as his hand grips the top of your shirt. Fabric rips and exposes your bra, he scoops your breast from the cup, a relieved sigh escaping him.

“You're so soft.”

“Joong,” you whimper, front teeth sinking deep into your lip, fingers grabbing at the soft white cotton that covers his shoulders.

Hongjoong's face lightens up at the sound of his name escaping your lips, dipping to his head to encircle the entirety of your nipple with his mouth. He sucks, gently circling his tongue around and smiling when you moan.

His warm hand reaches for the opposite side of your chest and cups you, switching his mouth to the other, biting and tugging. Just as you're about to say his name again he presses himself into you, his hardness pushing harshly into your pelvis. He doesn’t stop sucking until you're twisting on the bed.

“In awe," you hear him say. You meet his eyes, “You haven't the slightest inkling how long I've waited for you, my sea. I wish I could spend all night with you. Unfortunate that you have to be somewhere in the morning.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Where—"

He interrupts, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head, hand only giving a slight tug to your pants, the tear echoing through the air as he tosses them to the side. You could only pout, your pile of fabric, one of your favorite sleepwears.

"I'll give you the world, y/n. No need to worry about a couple of pieces of clothing." Unlike the others you have been with, his touch is softer, slowly rubbing the plushness of your thighs, lips trailing delicate, wet kisses against the skin.

“Please,” you moan softly, peering down. Hongjoong looks up with a devilish curl to his lips, his smile to die for.

“Yes?” he replies, mock innocence coating his gaze.

“Please touch me, Joong.”

After having fought against Hongjoong’s yearning for you for close to a year, it feels more than off to let these words escape your lips. Your body is practically on display beneath him, his lids heavy with lust as they take you in. He seems to enjoy the moment differently than you, for many reasons you'd rather not dwell on for long. Hee slides it down to the middle of your legs, hot breath tickling your skin. You can feel how your underwear clings to you because of your arousal, almost forgotten from how his eyes seem to want to take you apart.

“All for me?” he groans as his fingertips slip into you, pressing kisses to the angle of your jaw. “So wet.” Hongjoong traces the outline of you, brushing teasingly over your clit. “I must admit, it feels good knowing this is all for me.”

You say nothing, only meeting his eyes with want in your gaze. He licks his lips, head tilting slightly as he stares at you.

“I know, my sea. I always knew.”

He knows nothing.

He hooks his finger on the fabric lining your hips, a quick tug ripping it with ease. You throb at the act. His body pressed to yours and his fingers hovering so close to you —

How easy it is to succumb to him.

"I've been waiting centuries, lovely," Hongjoong whispers against your skin. "It's made me a bit needy, you know. But I need to know if you want me as I want you. y/n," his hand raises to your face, tilting it so that you meet his gaze. "Do you want me?"

Making the decision to go through with this, to let him take you now — some part of you knows it isn't the wisest decision. It will only make your choice of killing him more difficult down the line. But if this is what it takes to have Hongjoong believe your every word, you'll do it. An even smaller part of you knows that despite everything, you want this. You want him. It feels as if hours have passed of your silence, Hongjoong neither getting closer to the center of you or moving his hand from your face. He waits patiently, just as he has waited for a time incomprehensible to you.

"I want you, Kim Hongjoong."

You see the shift in his gaze in an instant. His brown irises slowly fade, eyes glistening over to a pure white. The sight doesn't scare you as much as it entices you. If you weren't in the heat of the moment you'd scold yourself at how ridiculous you're being.

His fingers slowly rub circles into your clit, pressure increases each time he makes each round. Your hips grind into the movements, a silent plea for him to pick up the pace. He doesn't of course, the devilish grin of his widening as he studies you. You've noticed that he's rarely ever left your gaze, as if memorizing this moment, solidifying this as your choice. And it is, in the end. He's asked several times if you want him. If it's a manipulation technique you aren't the wiser.

You feel his middle finger slip next to the first, lightly squeezing your clit, picking up speed and you let out a low moan, head tipping back, finally breaking the stare.

"All for me," he whispers. "Don't hide your moans from me, my sea. I know it feels good, yeah. Want more?" One of his fingers slips down, dragging around the outline of your entrance. He dips it in barely a centimeter, a stifled laugh escaping him when he sees you clench. "Do you?"

“Please.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers back up to your clit, pressing down, hard. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to control the sounds he pulls from you.

"Ah ah," He moves it away, pressing his lips to your fingers briefly. "If I could listen to the others take you, they can listen to us. They all hear us, you know. Amplified hearing comes with the territory."

Despite how your heart races, you clench at the thought of the others listening, Hongjoong's gaze flicking between your legs.

"Oh, you enjoy that, huh? Enjoy us listening to you have sex with someone else, thinking about us coming to your moans with someone else's cock inside of you?" He presses his lips against your stomach. "Wooyoung and Mingi like it the most. They're probably touching themselves right now listening to us." You clench again. "How filthy of my pretty sea."

"Joong—"

He slips two fingers inside of you. "Tsk, so impatient."

Hongjoong is halfway down the sofa, face placed between your legs. Palms flat against the inside of your thighs to spread you wide, his nose dug deep into, a cry escaping from your throat when his mouth covers your clit. You feel his tongue circle it slowly, your fists tightening. The pleasure is all-encompassing — he sucks noisily at the sensitive nub, your fists unclenching and finding themselves in his hair, pushing him closer into you.

He licks at you hungrily, your gaze flicking to his free hand slipping inside his own pants. “Fuck…” he whispers against you, diving back in as soon as the word leaves his mouth. He groans, the flat of his tongue pressed to your entrance as his face slowly rocks from side to side.

“Please,” the feeling of him takes over, your hips rising to meet each swipe of his tongue. The impending release is near, enough so that you’re not able to warn him. Your body trembles, your fingers gripping his hair so tightly you’re sure you’ve pulled out a few strands, his tongue continuing to lap at your core. It starts to linger into the range of oversensitivity, your hands pulling away from his hair and instead, hips moving away from his tongue. He chases you, pushing himself deeper into you.

“I can’t—” you say, but the words seem to go into one ear and out the other. He continues to lick, lips wrapped around your clit. He refuses to let go even as you lean up, his hands gripping your thighs, unmoving. “Hongjoong—” your eyes finally meet his.

They’re completely white as they stare at you. You can see the lift of his cheeks, smiling into you as he sucks. His hands move from your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer into his mouth. He lifts it for just a moment, enough to say one word. “No.”

The break is brief. Hongjoong covers your clit with his plush lips once more, sucking hard. He continues like this for over a minute, watching as tears stain your cheeks. The oversensitivity slowly molds into pleasure, your hips humping against his mouth. Your chest rises and falls, your peak coming much quicker this time. He pushes three fingers into you in an instant, a scream escaping you. He chuckles into you, his mouth finally away from your clit.

“Come for me, my sea. I want to see you come again for me,” he whispers. He doesn’t touch your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you with abandon, the sounds echoing around the room. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

You feel the pads of his fingers touch the spot inside of you, your breath hitching. He keeps them there, rubbing quickly against the rough patch. In an instant your thighs clasp his hand within you, humping violently as you lose yourself. He leans against your stomach, resting his head against your plush skin, watching you.

“Never thought you would be prettier, but look at you. Coming all over me, fucking my fingers.”

You can’t respond to his words, eyes closed as you try to come down from your high. He pulls his fingers out, the sound of him sucking them alluring, but not enough to open your eyes. He pulls you closer to him, finger dragging back to your clit. You pull back in an instant, eyes flicking open. He laughs, grin stretching across his cheeks.

“Already done?”

“Too much…” you swallow. He moves away from your clit at your words, placing his hand just above your chest where your heart lies. He moves up from your legs, head falling on the mattress, eyesight steady with yours. Despite how blown out his eyes are, despite how you can clearly see how aroused he is by the hardness pressed against your upper thigh, he hums, expression softening.

“Okay?” he whispers. For some reason the way he’s looking at you, the love in his eyes… it bothers you. Not because it’s ingenuine, you can see how real the look is. It terrifies you that the look calms you down, settles your heart. That you yearn for him to look at you again just as softly, as kind.

The voice deep in the back of your mind telling you that this wasn’t the smartest idea.

But of course, you ignore it. Out of selfishness or greed, you're not too sure. Hongjoong’s fingers stroke your cheek, humming when you lean into his touch. “You’re pretty,” he murmurs, thumb wiping the tear that falls down. “Even when you cry.”

He leans forward, lips covering yours. The touch is softer, you can feel the emotion he draws into it, tongue lightly flicking yours, the taste of you filling your mouth. Suddenly it’s sweeter, almost strawberry like as you continue to kiss. You don’t notice how you suddenly take the lead, sucking his lips, entering his mouth. He giggles at your movements, hands moving to pull your hips closer against his.

“Taste good?” he pulls away, laughing.

Your cheeks warm when you’ve realized what you’ve done, pulling away. A string of saliva parting your lips. He pecks you quickly, head back against the sheets. “Hm?”

Realizing he asked you a question, you furrow your brows. “How’d you do that?”

His eyes roll, “I’m a vampire, I can do anything I’d like.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You frown, and his laugh is even louder.

“And yet here you are,” he moves from his spot to hover over you. He’s pulled off his pants and briefs before you’ve realized it, the length of him resting against your stomach. He grinds it lightly into you, lip between his teeth. “Here you are under me, wanting me.” Holding himself up with one hand, he uses the other to squeeze himself, the sight making your mouth water.

“Thought you were done?” his brows raise, amusement coating his expression. “Unless you want more?” He moves away from you, sliding off the bed. He holds his cock in his hand, languidly stroking it as he stares at you. “Want to taste me?”

Your eyes flick up from his movements to look at his face. His brow raised, he waits for a response. Seemingly unable to respond, he moves closer, body leaning over so he’s directly in your line of sight. “I said, do you want to taste me, my sea?”

You nod, and he moves even closer, hand cupping your chin. You open your mouth now, “I do.”

He nods, letting go. “Go ahead.”

He moves slowly, steps closer and closer to you. Though he seems to be calm, you can see the way eagerness lines his features. He pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the side. You notice a few scars and tattoos on his body, a belly button piercing shining at you in the lower light. His fingers wrap around the base. He’s longer than you thought, but not as thick as you’ve once experienced. Still, your mouth can’t help but water.

“Open, pretty,” he murmurs. You open your mouth slightly, jaw lax. He rests his head against your lips, bending his cock toward you. He lets it sit there for a moment, his breaths heavy, precum coating your lips. His eyes stare at your mouth as he finally enters your mouth inch by inch, moaning when he finally enters. He continues, stopping when you gag. He twitches against your tongue, your eyes watering as you look up at him. His eyes seem to be glossed over, holding your head as he moves out. He moves slowly, in and out, hips rocking back and forth between your lips. You suck and lick, guarding your teeth to make sure you don’t hurt him, the weight of him against your tongue and angling your throat so that he can enter even more.

He groans, speed increasing. “You take me so well, look so good with my cock in your mouth.” Hongjoong pushes your head against him, your nose pressed to his pubic bone. He moves back a bit as you choke, whispering okays and telling you you’re taking him so well. Your hands wrap around his thighs as he fucks your mouth, your throat burning. You feel yourself clenching around nothing. He moves quicker, grinding into your mouth. Your hand reaches down to touch yourself.

He pulls out immediately, grabbing your wrist gently. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Only I get to touch you my sea.” He lets go, lightly nudging you back against the sheets. “Ready for me.”

“Fuck, yes,” you utter, and he only laughs.

“Scream loud for me, so the others know you’re being cared for well,” he grins. Hongjoong’s hips move forward into you without hesitation. Just as a moan tries to escape, he wraps his hand around your throat. His eyes stay on yours, looking to see if you’re uncomfortable. But all he sees is your eyes rolling back, his excitement increasing. He presses his lips against your cheek, moving to the side of your face, just next to your ear.

“Feel good, pretty? You like me inside of you, like me making love to you,” he bites your earlobe, pulling away. “You feel so good, so relaxed for me. Perfect.” Hongjoong eases himself out to slowly to sink back in, moving at a slower pace, the witch of his cock as it glides between your walls. “I’ve waited so long for this, Ca… y/n.”

His hips stutter as he gradually builds speed, grunting each time your hips collide. You reach for anything, deciding on wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He doesn’t resist, his chest pressed against yours, lips meeting one another’s. You’re too consumed with pleasure to notice the slip of tongue. He drives his cock into you, angling his hips directly at your g-spot. He releases your throat, one of his hands reaches for the headboard, driving into you harder, ”You take it so well.”

“Please,” your fingers dig into the back of his neck, piercing his skin. His eyes shift, darkening. The frame of the bed begins to bang loudly against the wall as his speed and force increases. He lets go of the board, gripping your hips and pulling them into each thrust of his. He fucks you harder, hip bones digging into your thighs. He swipes your hand away when you try to rub your clit. Shaking his head.

“You can come without touching yourself.”

“I can’t,” you cry out, trying to reach again. He tsks, pushing it away.

“Come from my cock only, y/n. I know you can do it.”

Your head tips back, the burning of your clit, begging to be touched. You focused on how he feels, how his cock drags against your walls. Just as you think you’re unable to do it, Hongjoong leans forward, teeth grazing your neck.

“Maybe I can help you out, want me to help you out, pretty? Want me to taste you?” His tongue drags against your pulsing vein. You nod without knowing what exactly he means, until his teeth sink into your flesh. You gasp from pain and pleasure,

The head of his cock pushes harshly into you as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips over and over as your orgasm takes over you, you clawing at his biceps in an attempt to hold yourself together. Hongjoong licks your wound, pulling away from you, breaths ragged.

Before you can come down from your high, in a matter of seconds the head of Hongjoong’s cock is inside you once more and you’re being fucked into the mattress, the movement of his hips frantic enough that you know you’ll be sore for several days.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong groans, snapping against you and making you bounce. “Want my come, pretty? Want me to come inside of you?” Hongjoong moans at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“Please, Hongjoong, please,” you gasp.

You hear him groan in response to your words as he presses his chest into yours, and all the while he continues to push inside of you you can feel his cock beginning to throb. His movements begin to falter, his breath heavy against your neck and you screw your eyes shut even tighter as you rock your hips upwards from underneath him to push him to new depths, urging him on. “Joong, please come. ”

“My sea,” he pants as his thrusts become shallow and hurried, his fingertips digging into the mattress to anchor himself, “Fuck.”

Finally, Hongjoong comes,, his hips pressing into you and then staying right there, buried deep within you. His fingers relax slightly from around your throat to allow you to drag in a deep, ragged breath, but Hongjoong keeps his hold. Chest still heaving against yours, you feel his lips come into contact with your cheek to press a soft kiss there, nuzzling your cheekbone for just a second before uttering into your ear.

“Look at me, my sweet sea.”

Your eyes open. His smirk is wide now, eyes crazed. You remember this exact look, one from the visions that you've seen. The one where Rose died beneath Jongho’s hands. Anxiety begins to rattles your body, the cloud of lust seeping away as it only seems to grow more sinister. He leans close to your ear, his soft lips brushing against the skin. It is only six words, but it brings the fear up too high for you to ignore.

"I know."

The stifling hot room suddenly grows colder.

"I know you lied."

His hand slowly wraps around your neck, fingers pressing into the flesh. It’s not enough to cause you to stop breathing, but enough so that you start to panic as he stares down at you. He does a test squeeze once, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

“Hongjoong—”

“Why would you try to trick me, my sea?” His brows furrow, hurt etched into his features. “Lead me on to think that somewhere deep inside of you, you cared for me? Why plant a fallacy in my mind? Why make me suffer?” He shakes his head. You feel his thumb press into the base of your neck, nail slowly digging. He hasn’t pierced your skin yet, but it’s close. “Speak.”

“To convince you—”

“To convince me that you care?” He finishes, and you nod. “I know you don’t care for me, y/n. I’ve known with each thrust, each moan of my name. I know what you look like when you make love, y/n. And I know what you’ve just done was anything but that,” he leans closer, his tongue dragging along your collarbone. “I know because I saw the others with you. They aren’t the only ones who enjoy the show,” he grins.

“You weren’t there—”

He agrees, humming, “I wasn’t. The good thing about turning, though. Their thoughts are no longer their own, their eyes are mine. I saw everytime someone entered you,” he lets his free hand cup your center, “I felt what they felt.” He slips a finger inside of you, “I saw your eyes roll back for them—” he moves it slowly, squeezing your throat tighter “—I saw you each time you lost yourself in them. Yunho,” he slips in another finger. “Mingi, oh that one was interesting—” his pace increases. “Wooyoung… poor him, he couldn’t even watch.”

He adds two more fingers within an instant, “And how could I forget the last one? Your Yeosang, your pretty, pitiful Yeosang. He’s always wanted you so badly, always wants to save you…” Hongjoong thumb rubs your clit, pace quickening. “He can’t even save himself…”

The door to the room opens, Hongjoong not bothering to turn around to see who it is.

“I didn’t ask you to come in,” Hongjoong hums, pulling his fingers out of you. He grabs the blanket on the side, covering your body with it, hand letting go of your neck. Your chest rises and falls, moving your gaze around him to see who's entered.

San and Yeosang stand there. It's too dark to see what they're wearing, but you're pretty sure it's the outfits from the concert tonight. Has time passed that quickly? You can still feel his fingers around your neck, anger between his words. If they didn't come in… if you weren't so involved… you're not too sure you would have lived.

Yeosang moves closer first, "You're going too far, hyung."

He leans up from the bed, not bothering to cover himself up. San lingers just behind Yeosang, eyes glued to your neck.

"Sad you couldn't join? I never interrupted the two of you, you should give me the same consideration."

"You were killing her, you were going to kill her." Yeosang looks at you, brows furrowed. "I wouldn't let you do that."

He stands, rolling his eyes. He grabs his briefs from the side, slowly pulling it up and over himself. "I was having fun, not killing her. The two of you need to relax a bit. Why would I dare hurt my sea?"

"The blood in her mouth? We can see it on her lips, Hongjoong. We aren't that ignorant."

You wipe your lips, staring at the blood coating your fingers when you pull away. You don't even remember when exactly he did it, or how. Was he going to kill you? Were you so filled with arousal you didn't even think about what was happening? Was that the sweet taste in your mouth? His blood? Your stomach turns at the thought. Hongjoong looks back at you. His white pupils are gone. replaced with the familiar brown. He raises his brow, tongue dragging across his lips. It's there where you see the cut in it.

"Tastes just like strawberries, doesn't it?"

The thought of his blood in your mouth makes you gag, rises from the sheets. You hold the blanket against you, reaching for the water bottle on the side table. Hongjoong grabs it before you do, taking a long drink, emptying it.

"Fuck you!" You yell, anger rising.

"y/n…" San moves closer to you. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

You grab your shirt and slip it over your body, hands trembling against the fabric. San helps you, picking up your sweats from the floor and passing it to you. Yeosang moves closer to Hongjoong, fists tightened.

"You were going to kill her, just like that."

"Don't start to give me a fucking martyr speech, Yeosang. You don't even care about her."

"You—"

Hongjoong reaches out, gripping Yeosang's neck. He slams him against the wall behind him, a scream leaving your mouth. San stands in front of you, hiding your body with his. He looks at Hongjoong with concern, "Hey, isn't this too much—"

"The two of you are a pair, aren't you?" Hongjoong frowns, "So hopelessly involved with y/n. At least she likes Yeosang. She barely even knows San. And here he is, fucking protecting her as if she loves him. As if she cares if he died."

The others soon appear at the door, crowding into the room. The wall behind Yeosang cracks as Hongjoong presses him deeper into it.

"Please stop," you beg, trying to get closer. San holds you back, preventing you from interfering. "He's just trying to protect me."

"If you didn't have Rose's soul he would not give a shit about you, my sea," Hongjoong looks at you, head tilted. "Your soul already saw him die once, it shouldn't matter if you see it happen again."

Yeosang looks down at him, fingers digging into Hongjoong’s hand. Eyes red, denying his words with the curl of his lips. "You'll never understand love, Joong. That's your problem."

"Enlighten me then, my friend."

Yeosang's eyes move to you, softening with such ease it breaks your heart. "Everyone knows I loved Rose, loved her more than she loved me, surely," his eyes flick back to his captain's. "And I loved her Hongjoong. I loved her with everything that I had, and I could barely function when she was gone." His voice breaks, eyes flicking between his. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be able to love again. She was my first love, but y/n…" His eyes move to yours, softening. The look only makes your heart crumble even more. "She is my greatest."

Your hold on San's arm loosens at his words. You love him. You've loved him, with every part of you. You love him to the brink of fear, afraid of the unknown.

"How sweet…"

He lets Yeosang go, wiping his hands on his underwear. He glances at the others around the room, frowning. "I wasn't going to kill either of them."

"Let's go, y/n," San whispers, slipping his hand into yours. Yeosang catches his breath on the floor. He lifts his head to meet yours. As if telling you everything is alright. That he's okay. San tugs again, and you follow him out the room, parting the small crowd that formed in the doorway.

-

"Do you know if she truly loved you?" It's an appalling question, one that would throw them for a loop. It seems to leave Seonghwa speechless, mouth parting to speak, closing again. "Did she love you?"

It's been over a day since the incident, Hongjoong moving around as if nothing happened. Yeosang does as well, not mentioning it at all. It was enough of a headache for you to ask Seonghwa for a break. The house feels more stuffy than usual. You sit in the park not too far from their business, swinging your legs back and forth. It was silent while you walked here, but you couldn't help but ask. They love her so dearly, so much. You doubt she felt half of what they did.

"She said she did, she told us she did. Why are you asking?"

"Because if this is the way you express that you love someone, I'm not so sure that she did. If she taught you how to love, this isn't love, Seonghwa."

"I feel like if it was anyone but you telling me this, I'd be furious," he admits, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. "If I may be forward, why do you think so?"

"I don't know," you purse your lips. "I don't know how it was for you back then, how the world was. Maybe my thoughts are more modern in comparison, but I don't think love wants to force you into this mold. If we're humans and you told me you wanted to become this, I think I would be upset for a bit, but I wouldn't tell you to stay a human because I want you to. Though back then, monsters were more of a real thought rather than folklore. I don't think it means that I wouldn't care, it just means that despite it all, I believe you'll still be the person I care for."

You glance at him, leaving out the obvious afterthought. This form changed them. You're sure that Rose died because of their choices. Because they changed. And not in a good way. Their "love" twisted into something unrecognizable, cruel, obsessive, greedy. Dangerous. Subin’s descriptions were mild in comparison to how they actually are. How could Wooyoung just kill Yeosang with ease? Hongjoong almost injuring Yeosang, attempting to turn you?

"I'm very careful when I tell someone I love them. Because for me it is an admittance that my care for you has no bounds, that with everything we will go through I will fight my hardest to make it work. I will stick by you. And I don't feel that way for most of you."

It's a lie, it's a filthy, dirty lie, but you let yourself say it anyway.

He nods slowly. His fingers slowly fold, legs crossed. "It is all a pity, then. I tried my hardest for you, doe. But it seems to be a moot end. I promised them that you would admit your love for us. Stubbornness has always been your strong suit, no matter how many years have passed by. I wanted to save you."

You look around the park. It's quieter in comparison to before. Swings empty, older couples gone. Not one soul, not even a bird chirping. It's eerie in itself. You turn to him, and he looks at you with sorrow.

"One word was all I needed."

You stand up, chest rising and falling quickly. "Hwa—"

"It's calming. Different in comparison to how we turned Rose. I hope you understand that this was a unanimous decision, doe. All of us thought this was the best way to keep you from running away."

He stands and you hold up your hands, shaking your head. "This isn't the way to get what you want, Seonghwa. Repeating the past isn't the way, you know that."

He tilts his head, a light pout decorating his lips. "This is me saving you. Can't you see it?"

You ignore his words, turning around. The closest place is the club just across the street. The one they own. Hiding is the last thing you want to do, but there’s nothing else. Maybe there’s something left over from the fight they had there weeks ago. If you could find your way through the hallways and into the back — maybe there’s a chance you can save yourself. Maybe there’s a way out.

"I'll give you a headstart, doe. At least give you some hope. Go ahead," he nods.

You don't hesitate. Your legs move quick as you run across the empty street. The door to the club is open and you enter, locking it behind you. A part of you wonders why you don't question it, but fear drives you now. You run into a side room, grabbing a knife that Subin left hidden, just before they came to save you last time.

"This will kill them," Subin says to you, dragging his finger along the blade. "It is made from the metal that killed their first love. Hongjoong would be much harder to trick, but I'm sure you can do it."

You stare at it, shaking your head. "Subin, I don't think—"

"Start thinking then, y/n. You won't be free. Not unless you accept their obsession with you, or kill them yourself. Your soul will continue to be stuck in the same perpetual nightmare. You have to stop it. You have to, y/n." His brows soften. "For every iteration of you that has died. Do it for them. Do it for you."

It's the first note that makes you stop what you're doing. You hold the knife in your hands, your grip loosening as you stare out into the hallway.

The familiar tune of the piano. Despite the name of the club you've rarely heard it — the group is a rock band, of course. So hearing the soft melody of Clair de lune echo in the dark is more than what you expect. It's a beautiful song despite this circumstance. You used to love it until this very moment — were they here the entire time? Have they watched your every move once you left Seonghwa in the park?

Were you ever truly alone?

The echo of your shoes add to the music, hushed breaths. There's no use in trying to control them, they know you're here just as you know they are.

"Must we play this game with you?"

You stop moving, gaze glued to the darkness. Your fear overrides your sense of the moment. Who was it that spoke?

"Why run? Is it not beautiful for there to be people who already love you as you are? Why would you try to escape love that is unconditional?"

Still, your mind seems unable to figure out who exactly it is. Is it some sort of talent they have, disguising their voices? Luring you deeper into the darkness? You stop moving.

"Pretty, we already know you're there. No need to try and hide."

Pretty? There's doubt that Yeosang would scare you this way, but it isn't impossible. Not after what you've witnessed at that restaurant.

"What can we do to convince you to stay?"

"Let me go," you whisper. "Finally let me go." Clair de lune rises in volume, your heartbeat throbbing in your ears. "Find someone else to love you. I will never be her."

"You are her, my sweet doe. And you always will be."

Doe? Is it Seonghwa instead? Footsteps catch your attention. They're at the far end of the hallways, slowly ascending, closer and closer to you. Risking waiting for whoever leaves the darkness isn't wise. You know that it'll only lead someone to you back in their home. Back in their arms. You slide the knife back into its place, quickly turning on your heels. You haven't had the chance to explore the club, too engrossed in them to figure out every nook and cranny. You push open a door, locking it behind you quickly. Just as you turn around, your stomach falls.

“What are you?” You say softly.

“It’s easy to guess,” Yunho shrugs.

“Shows at night. Hwa drinking blood, our cold skin. Points to only one thing.”

“We're vampires.”

It's the same room you met them. The velvety couches, the bucket of cell phones on the back table. You were full of life back then, though afraid you stood your ground. And now here you are, back in the same place as before. Will it ever end? Is this a sign that no matter what, you will always follow the same path? Your fingers brush against the knife.

Should you end it here?

"I won't let that happen again, doe," Seonghwa enters the room, hands tucked in his pockets. He moves closer and closer to your frozen figure, hand slipping down your side, pulling the knife away. He stares at it for a moment, worried expression hardening. "Who gave this to you?"

"Subin."

His eyes narrow, grip tightening. The silver bends with ease in his hands, crushed in his palm. He sighs, eyes closing for a moment. "It was the knife that killed Rose, y/n."

“Hwa, what did you do—”

“Do you think I’d allow you to hurt yourself? I said we were going to save you, and you try to do something like this?” He sighs. “We’re trying to protect you the best we can—”

“This is not protecting, Seonghwa. Both you and I know you. I expected things to be different with you. I thought you changed.” Was everything a lie? Every step of the way to get you here, in front of him, about to die?

Are you just that stupid?

“What do you want us to do? Let you die, again? We’ve already done that, y/n. I can’t wait another one hundred years for us to go through the same routine.”

“You’re selfish—”

He laughs, combing his fingers through his hair. “And what if I am, hm? It doesn’t matter; once I turn you, once you become one of us… I can make you forget.”

The same blank look in Yeosang’s eyes.

You back up away from him, gaze resting on yours. It’s not sorrowful in the slightest. It’s settling within you; you expected this eventually. The contemptment, the resignation. He will kill you. You’re not leaving this room without spilling blood. “You never believed I loved you, Seonghwa,” you whisper, back against the wall as he moves to you. “After all this time, you’ve never believed it. But I have.”

“Don’t lie,” he mumbles.

“I did love you, so much. Why do you think I’ve often come to you? I trusted you, Seonghwa. I knew you cared about me, not just my soul. It’s pathetic, really, how much I relied on someone that would go against me in the end. It’s even more pathetic that I’m not angry with you. I’m just sad.”

He shakes his eyes, fists tightening. “You’re allowed to be angry.”

“But I can’t be. I don’t think either Rose or myself was ever really angry with you.”

"You will never lose me."

You can barely make out his words, his fingers digging into yours, light sobs falling from his lips. You hold in yours, letting your forehead rest against his. It feels as if you're mourning him when he is right in front of you. The fleeting wish of knowing him sooner so that you may have spent time with him as he is now crosses your mind. And with horror, the small thought of you living as them so you can know them longer lingers.

"I love you ever so much, Seonghwa," you say. "And I will not make you listen to what I want. If this will make you happy, then I will accept your decision."

Seonghwa presses his palms against his temples, his last sincere moment with you crumbling.

“I would not have asked anyone else to be here with me when I die, Seonghwa. Please let me go.” Rose’s blood spilling onto his clothing, between his fingers. His cries echoing around the ship's chambers.

“y/n, please,” he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Your finger slips into the hole in the wall, the cold metal of a knife resting there feels against your fingertips. Seonghwa’s back is turned to you, and you quickly pull it out, gripping the handle. Despite the fear that overwhelms you, consumes you, you do it anyway. You press it into your chest.

Exactly where the birthmark of the scar is.

The smell of blood hits him before he sees it. The pain is overbearing, your hand dropping from the handle, body limping forward, almost touching the floor. The sound of the door slamming open, wood splitting at the force. The warm touch of hands catching you just before you fall. His grip is tight, blood sputtering from your lips as you look at him.

"No, no…" His grip on your shirt is tight. You're used to the mirrored emotions, the fakeness dripping from his expression. It's nothing like now. The way he holds you, his face pressed against the fabric of your soaked shirt, sobs escaping his lips. Despite the loss of blood, despite it all, you feel your own heart breaking.

"You have to let me go, Joong," you can’t say it of course, the pain too overwhelming to speak through. "You have to."

“I can’t…” he utters. A cold touch of hands pulls you into his lap, Hongjoong letting you go. You can’t quite tell what’s happening around you, but you hear shouting, furniture breaking. Your vision begins to blur, fingers holding you close to their body. His hand covering your mouth, whispering soft words to you. You don’t feel tears against your skin, but you can feel how he holds you, hands trembling. You just wish that you knew who it was.

The knife is slowly sliding out of your chest, the pain enough to make you lose consciousness within an instant.

-

“It worked.”

“I told you it would.”

“Fuck off, San.”

“Why are you arguing in front of her? Hey pretty peach, it’ll be alright.”

“Still calling her a peach, after everything?”

“You know what-”

You gasp, leaning forward. Hands stop you from moving too quietly, soft words comforting you for the moment. Your eyes flick around, brows furrowed. Mingi, San, Yunho… Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho… You continue to circle through the men, one missing. Just as you begin to ask, your head turns to the side. Wooyoung holds you up steady, a sweet smile on his lips. He brushes loose hairs away from your cheek, humming softly.

“You okay, pretty peach?”

You nod slowly, looking down at your hands. They’re free of blood. Wait, should they be covered in blood? “What happened?” you ask.

“One of the attendees at the concert took some bad shit, and you drank from them. It hit you pretty hard and you passed out, but everything is alright now. You’re okay,” Mingi says, nudging Yunho. “I told him to keep an eye on you since you’ve just started this, but he let it slip his mind.”

Yunho rolls his eyes, “I went to the bathroom.”

“Enough arguing, please?” Seonghwa murmurs, smiling at you. “Ready to go to bed, doe?”

You steady yourself off the floor with the help of Wooyoung, thanking him. “Okay.”

Everyone begins leaving the room one by one, Yeosang staying with you. He guides you to the bathroom, asking for permission to help you into the bath. There’s no need to say no, no use for it. He’s been with you since the beginning of your transition since that fateful night at Hiraeth, where you met them all. You sink into the warmth of the water, leaning your head against the side. Yeosang sits there, watching you silently.

“Are you alright?” he asks, thumb brushing against your temple. “You worried us.”

You nod, a smile on your lips. “I’m always alright when I’m with you.”

The expression he gives you back is peculiar. Smile quick, strange. His eyes linger on the scar on your chest. “Okay. I’ll give you some time alone,” his lips brush against your forehead. “See you soon, pretty.”

Just as he closes the door, you lean from your spot. You didn’t mention it even though you should have. Crescents scarred his throat, the imprint of a hand stared at you as he helped you bathe. Your mind told you to stop questioning it, to let it go. But you just couldn’t. The sight looked so familiar, filled you with such fear. Like you were missing something right in front of you, but you just couldn’t grasp it. The eerie feeling began to consume you, clawing at the dryness of your throat, forcing itself into your heart through each beat.

A drum solo makes you stop. Your eyes move to the stage, focused on the man whose drumsticks fly through the air, foot tapping on the bass drum pedal, eyes closed completely as he plays. The crowd screams. But you can only stare. Watch as he expertly plays, lips curved into a smile. Blue hair pulled back with a headband. His eyelids open, immediately looking at you.The burgundy color keeps you in place. He tilts his head, observing you. He hits against the crash cymbal and pulls you away from his mesmerizing gaze.

“...Hongjoong,” you breathe.

He takes out a necklace, holding it between his fingers. “But with the long lives we have lived, it will be unfortunate if someone decided to bring the force of the law against us. I’d rather not spend my days rotting behind a prison cell. Not that we would, of course. But it is helpful, nonetheless.” The necklace drops to the table, a wince from Yeosang catching your attention. “But we didn’t bring you back here to tell you about how San practices law. This piece of jewelry, can you touch it?” Hongjoong slides it against the glass to you. Oddly, it doesn’t scratch at all.

The room grows silent; only the muted music filling the air. You stare at the jewels, the emerald color quite vibrant in the low light. Your curiosity almost outweighs the red exclamation points of danger. So despite it, you only stare at it then flick your gaze to Hongjoong. He tilts his head, waiting for you to respond.

Your hand lingers on the emerald necklace resting between your collarbones, warm despite how cold your skin is.

You remember.

How your soul mourned.

Yeosang pressed his cut hands to your lips just before you died. The others dragging Hongjoong off Seonghwa, barely saving him. Bringing Hongjoong to the brink of death.

When in reality, he was just gone. He disappeared after the night you turned. None of them could figure out where he went. They all simply accepted that he’d never come back. Little do they know what you know.

You held him as you felt his skin grow colder than it ever was. As his fearful eyes lost themselves in yours, and became colder, emptier. You stayed with him, cradling his soulless body tight against your chest. His blood seeping into your shirt, dripping down your leg. The knife thrown to the side; fingers wrapped around the cut on his throat to stop it from bleeding despite how much he tortured you.

The others would tell you how you shed tears for the first time over the man. How your screams were so gut-wrenching, even Yeosang struggled to pull you away. How months later, you woke from your slumber crying out his name. And strangely, how you never recalled any of it at all. They made you believe he’s dead. Yeosang turned you, coerced your mind into perceiving Hongjoong’s blood coating your fingers. You still recollect how clearly the scenery changed around you when you sobbed over his body. Dark background blending into the warmth of the summer dawn.

What a surprise it’ll be when they find out otherwise.

-

tags: @revehosh@mrcarrots@belletiny@sansblkgirlfriend@hwadump@honeyedtalisman@atzcoke@glitterhongjoong@whatudowhennooneseesyou@marievllr-abg@arkive78@dysftopia@kpopnightingale@wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines@atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira@wommypeaches@avantalem@youre-a-wallflower-charlie@toxicccred@xciiiomwliah@madelinelina@kirooz@a-tiny-teez@tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z@yoongiigolden @jonghoharibo @fl0r4f4wn @gh0stbish @kodsukein @vitrealislux@sarcasticsagittarius1998@spiderrenjunfics@aeoliannie​ @tannie13@leeknowsalot@xshansimsx@seojonneh @shingene @justconniez@mingi-banana@anushka-k@nightmarej1n@watamotee33@dear-dreamie@the-ghostest-with-the-mostest@jaxavance@malyxsoulpersonal@az-con@charreddonuts@beautysirens@sunukissed@lixpixstix

[nanaminokanojo]

00:00:01

Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | You

A spin-off to this.

TW: angst without comfort | mcd

I went to my personal Instagram account where I thought I won't see Satoru on my reels, but suddenly, this edit of his high school days comes up and the song was Lamp's "Yume Utsutsu" and I go, "Oh come on! I just stopped fucking crying!" Anyway, please enjoy and suffer with me.

~*~

You truly are alone now.

It was a selfish thought. It was uncalled for in that situation, unjustified even. Everything was at a standstill as the scales tipped over in favor of the curses. And in the middle of it all, Gojo Satoru, the only honored one between heaven and earth, has fallen.

The strongest has fallen. To everyone else, at least, what was palpable was the fact that the odds just became more daunting without him. If Gojo himself was defeated, lying in a pool of his own blood, what hope was there for anyone else?

It was the truth, but you couldn't process that at all, everyone else be damned. The whole world could be on the verge of exploding and the whole human race could go extinct in a blink of an eye. Still, all you could feel were the cold hands of loneliness as it slowly wrapped its icy fingers around your heart.

Gojo Satoru was your best ally in all sense of the word, one of the two dearest friends you have left. Above everything else, he was probably the only one in the world who fully understood the weight you carried all those years ago. It was a burden you shared with him, and somehow, it was easier knowing there was someone else who knew your pain in its molecular degree. It comforted you that for once, when he said he knows, you believed it.

And yet, you stood behind multiple screens, watching the only person in the universe who truly knew you. You've never felt lonelier in your life.

One last time, you saw the glory behind those impossibly blue eyes shine their brightest before turning glassy and dark as the life in them drained out, amplified by the red that began to surround his snow-white hair. The Gojo Satoru that you knew lay in tatters in the midst of the rubble, a patch of blue sky in a field of crimson blooms.

This time, no one will sit with you and hold you together while you drown every semblance of feeling like you did when Geto Suguru died by his hands. No one will know you well enough to know what to say or do. No one will comfort you enough to ease the debilitating pain that rendered you an inch towards death on the inside.

Your only true ally was gone.

"Brave of you to come here alone," the voice of your former lover said, coming like jagged spikes through your chest, knowing that it wasn't really him who was talking to you. "But I guess, I understand why you're here."

Geto Suguru, or rather Kenjaku, beckoned you over with a flourish of his hand, gesturing towards the chair across from him. It wasn't hard to look for him, having been too accustomed to the life force he possesses, one you would recognize without a doubt even if it was tainted and violated by a dark presence.

You did as you were told, glancing over the destroyed wall of what remained of the high-rise cafe he chose to witness the battle between Gojo and Sukuna. You merely stared down at the chaos below, merely recognizing the spot where Gojo currently lays.

"You mourn..."

Your lifeless eyes shifted towards the man before you, very much like the one you knew in your youth, loved and cherished with everything that you are, the same man Gojo Satoru calls his only best friend. The only thing that told you outright that it was a different being before you were those cursed stitches on his forehead, and yet you tried your very best to look past them.

An exhausted smile etched itself across your lips as you looked into those eyes, trying to find the amber in them despite being muddled in a darker color. He looked disconcerted as he regarded you.

"The day you died, I..." you started, swallowing the lump in your throat. You breathed in deeply, drawing as much courage as you can muster in your current state. With a sigh, you said, "Satoru and I mourned your death, you know."

"Geto Suguru cannot hear you."

You chuckled. "We were both such a mess." Again, you glanced at the spot where you knew Gojo would be, ignoring the vicious words that cut you deeper than any slashes Sukuna could ever inflict. "From the moment you decided you didn't want to stand on the same side with us anymore up to that moment you declared war. Satoru was way better at dealing with his feelings. Always have been, but I cannot say he didn't struggle to figure out where to start picking up the pieces, too."

Tears started pooling in your eyes, but you still smiled despite all the hurt. "No one understands us more than each other where you're concerned. And even in his last conscious moments, I bet he's thinking of you."

Just then, a hand covered yours, a familiar warmth surging in through every pore of your skin which it touched. Those fingers squeezed yours, reassuring albeit weak. It was gone before you could make sense of it, and you were met with the smirking face of Geto Suguru, a concealment of the fleeting sorrow that crossed his features.

You hung your head low, closing your eyes as memories of your youth with both Gojo and Geto started flashing before your eyes. And when you raised your head, your tears had finally fallen. "And now...the only person I share that with is also gone."

You took a deep breath, letting the painful truth of it all sink in and engulf every cell in your body. Gojo Satoru, who had been your rock through everything, wasn't there to hold you together like he did before even if he himself was falling apart back then. You wished you could have at least held his hand as he was lost to the world, made sure he knew he wasn't alone like he did for you back then. But what can you do?

"I'm going to miss him terribly no matter how annoying he is," you murmured through hollow laughter. "I couldn't even thank him."

You grinned bitterly. "I thought he couldn't hear me."

Kenjaku – you choose to call the being before you for who he really is – shrugged. "I must say Geto Suguru's spirit is just as hard to break as it is to face Gojo Satoru. It's not easy possessing this body like any other. I see why they're the strongest."

"You should instead see why they are friends," you corrected. "They're not just 'the strongest' as you put it. Shame you had to pit them against each other for the second time."

"I..." Kenjaku choked the word out, a single tear falling from his left eye. "Y-y/N..."

You nodded, directing your gaze down to where Gojo was. "I know, Suguru. I know. I'm sorry, too."

"Enough –"

Kenjaku can't seem to take full control as his face contorted into confusion and frustration, so you took your chance.

"You did your best for Riko. I'm proud of you, I hope you know that." Your tears flowed freely now. "Satoru did his very best for everyone, too, and I know he's just as proud of you for doing what you can until it got too much to handle. You two just grew up too fast, but I guess you can both rest easy now."

Again, you met his gaze. "Sorry we couldn't do as you asked us – live long and happy – but know that we both wanted to. Even if you weren't there anymore."

You stood up and crossed the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his dark locks one last time. You were half expecting to die at that very moment, but that moment didn't come even as you stayed longer than you could ever hope to do so.

"But at least Satoru can keep his promise to meet you again now." You kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry if I might take a bit longer, but I'll make the same promise Satoru did..."

You drew back and walked towards the edge of the open wall, and with a wave you said, "We'll meet again."

~*~

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20230924]

[beelmons]

love comes in moments.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Rating: Mature, 13+. Tags: Angst, no happy ending, Reid!POV, slow burn if you squint Word count: 6,772 Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid writes a memoir about the 15 years he spent by your side, and everything you went through since the moment you joined the BAU. A/N: I wanted to feel utter pain, so I wrote it. Hopefully you will suffer with me. Also, this hasn't been proof read, so things might change a bit during the week as I re-read it. This fic ended up having an aftermath with an slightly happier ending, you can read it here Heavily inspired by these two songs: 1 , 2 Tag list: @hey-dw @cassiemartzz

“Entry 1: The humble beginnings. 

I still remember the day you first came through the doors of the unit. Shoulders down, your stare facing the floor, walking slightly behind Gideon. You were nervous, at the least, but if your body spoke as loudly as I was guessing, terrified would have been a more accurate word. 

I couldn’t shake your hand, the germophobia wasn’t always nice to me, but you didn’t care. You understood. You faked a high-five, and just like that we had our own little inside joke. I had made a new friend within thirty seconds of meeting her; that was a first, but silly me, twenty-something and naïve, I couldn’t notice right away that a woman like you was meant to be many “firsts”, and even greater “onlys.”

“She’ll be your partner, be nice.” those were Hotch’s words. 

Not until much later would I have come to realize the weight of that warning. Trained eyes could reach everything I wasn’t able to. I wonder if you noticed the utter adoration that man had for you, as a subordinate, as a friend, as a companion. Aaron always had that eagle-like eye to spot people who needed him just as much as he needed them. Emily and Derek were a clear example, but that’s besides the point. 

Now, believe me when I say I’m sorry I didn’t notice how beautiful you were the second I laid my eyes on you. Perhaps, that would have saved us a lot of pain, or rather given us a lot more happiness. I was, to my ill luck, blinded by my adoration for someone else. I wouldn’t label it a mistake, it’s fair to say it was just an unfortunate event at the time, that would later come in doubles, and then in triples, like a series of them. 

Do you remember that book? ‘A series of unfortunate events’ by Lemony Snicket. It was the first thing you gave me as a birthday present, that and the ridiculous hat that haunts me to this day. Engraved in my mind I have the expression you made when I told you it was a children’s book. 

“No way! I’m giving a children’s book to a genius?!” the anguish in your voice was palpable, you were truly ashamed. 

“Well, this is not the illustrated version, so it’s technically not a children’s book. I love it, thank you.” I tried to reassure you, but I wasn’t very good at that.

Maybe, you just wanted your partner to like you, to show me you were trying, or to prove that you could know me as much as the others in such little time, but regardless of the reason you felt like you’d failed. I could see it, and I regret not letting you know just how precious that possession would turn out to be. 

Months later, we would also come to know that you couldn’t stand for that long without moving, otherwise your legs would feel swollen for days. Six hours you spent with me at the shooting range, even after Hotch had given up. They had to kick us out, and out of hunger we found that indian restaurant that’s open 24/7. I refuse to believe I still failed that certification, you were one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, but I’ll always be thankful for every missed shot, since that night I found the wonder that butter chicken was. My first time having indian food. 

Interestingly enough, we didn’t go back to that place on our own, jobs, people, life always getting in the way. Now I understand, then, it was no wonder the chicken never tasted the same.  

Entry 2: Trial, one of many. 

I still wonder how you always managed to show up, regardless of the way I constantly seemed to juggle with my own life. The first time I died, courtesy of Tobias Hankle’s dad, I wondered if my mom was going to be okay. Funny, huh? Even in death I found it hard to put my life first. I know that always pissed you off, and I never knew better, and I’m sorry to tell you I’ve kept the bad habit, I’m afraid. 

Peaceful doesn’t quite describe the way it felt, my last breath I mean. Relieved, I guess, would fit better. I had told you before, hadn’t I? The hospital she was in, the books she liked best, the letters I wrote everyday. It was a hopeful relief, I craved that you would have come to care for me enough to look after my mother if I were to be gone. 

Luckily, you didn’t get the chance to prove it, but many years later I would understand that, back then and there, you would have moved heaven and earth for me; and I should have known by the way your arms found me amidst the dark of that cemetery. I should have known by the way you stayed in my messy apartment throughout the night, by the way you held my arm when I woke up shaking in terror, and by the way you repeated that same routine every evening for almost a week. 

Should have known after you dropped everything to meet me at Gideon’s cabin as I cried over his gun and badge, as I mourned someone that I hadn’t lost, as I yet again felt insufficient to remain, to make him stay. I’m still not sure why I called you. Perhaps you would share the burden of losing a mentor, or maybe you would notice that I was breaking down, that I was too weak to fix myself, and even weaker to ask for help. No one reached out for me because I never screamed, no one knew how bad I needed it. And yet, with a simple whisper miles away, you came. You showed up. 

I should have known right when you were sitting by the toilet bowl, your hair tie loosely holding my hair together so it wouldn’t get dirty. Did I think I looked good with that? Why did I ever leave it that long? Stop, I can’t also be rambling while I write, not that you ever minded the infinite data of nothingness, did you? Circling back, I still feel the coldness of your fingers, pale with concern, as they curled around my trembling wrist while I threw up my guts and soul in that white container. 

“You should go.” I would whisper in between gargles and spits. 

“And leave you like this?” you weren’t even looking at me. I guess the image of my body bent over a basin, sickly and frail, was enough to be engraved in your mind with one glance. 

“I’m just one of the 21 million americans that struggle with at least one addiction. I’m nothing special.” I grumbled with disdain “And you don’t have a magic wand you can wave and make it go away. You’re nothing special.” 

You sighed at my words, by then you knew how stubborn I could be, am I correct? It didn’t take a profiler to figure out something like that. “Only 10% seek help, though. Those odds make you special enough, don’t you think?” If you said anything else, I cannot remember. I could only focus on the fast speed of my beating heart, that I mistook for undesired side-effects of the drugs. 

Withdrawal can be hell, but I had already had a taste of that, so I figured I could handle a bit more of it. You, on the other hand, were not ready for the burden that was I. I could see the facade you put on whenever I said something so hurtful anyone else would have gone out running, the subtle swallowing of the knots in your throat, the deep, shaky breaths, the way your eyelids clung to the tears that threatened to come out. Yes, I should have known right then and there, after you met the worst of me, and yet stayed. 

Entry 3: Did I care to share? 

To be fair, you were a bit to blame for my obliviousness. A pure heart is a mystery for men who don’t know kindness, and life hadn’t been particularly tender to me. I had begun to question if, maybe, the lifeline that had become your gentle hand meant something else. But more often than not, I had learned that love follows after life, and if it had been gentle enough to give you to me, who was I, a mere mortal, to want more, to show greed. 

You were there for Elle and her revolting, for Morgan and his search for his truth, for Garcia and her desire to cling to life after her very own kindness had almost taken it from her, and for Hotch and his falling into the darkest of despairs. You would tell me how you had to cancel plans to make him company, how you woke up extra early to make sure he’d have breakfast, how you’d pretend to be walking by his new bachelor apartment as an excuse to check up on him, and spend extra hours just so you could get him to talk in his office.I watched you worry and give your best to put a smile on a saddened face. Just like you had done for me, and the many people that we both loved. It hurt, it selfishly hurt. Your love was so vast it could fill a dam and still pour, yet my thirst could barely be quenched. 

My skin still burns with the memory of your tears falling on my hand when I told you my cravings had started again. I saw the glint of failure in your eyes, like I had years ago with the children's book. It made me question if eidetic memory could translate to the sense of touch, to this day it is vivid, like they cover me again whenever I feel the urge, whenever I need to escape. 

Once again, you showed up. You showed up at my apartment to pick me up, like a toddler waiting to be taken to the doctors, only that the person that would fix me was not a medic, it was a sponsor. I don’t think I’d have been brave enough to show up by myself, to get help on my own, if I hadn’t been so scared to hurt you again, probably bad enough to finally push you away. 

It was okay, even if you were to be shared, if your heart had space for everyone else, I was happy to know I could belong as well, to be included. I was okay sharing you, as long as I got a piece. 

Entry 4: The dreaded distance. 

I never understood politics, or the system. Ironic, though, since human behavior is nothing but a mixture of different structures interacting together, creating a being that then I would dedicate my entire life to studying. But it was always so confusing, why would they rip you away from me? Didn’t they see how good you were? Perhaps that was the issue.

I still remember the way you clung to my chest when we were saying goodbye. Did the DEA really need you? Did it really have to be you? It wouldn’t be the only time the bureau would plot against me, against the hope I grasped on to continue doing my job, but it certainly was the hardest one, and mind you, the first one. The pain of having a friend ripped from my arms, a handful of things could only compare. 

Hotch would later come to confess that my hatred for the superiors was unfunded. You were not taken, you were a tribute. When Strauss came in arms, you had to surrender to protect me. They made Aaron choose between me and you, one had to leave, it wasn’t up for discussion, and you volunteered. Because you knew, I could barely make it anywhere else. 

“It’s been a while since I was hugged like this.” you said when we were strong enough to finally pull apart, when the clock was streaking 6, and there was no professional excuse to keep you in the building for longer. 

“Like what?” I had to ask. You deserved to be engulfed in arms every waking second. You deserved to be carried by the holiest of angels. Why wouldn’t I hug you like we were in a Shakespearean tragedy? 

“Like somebody was afraid of losing me.” you answered. 

Oh, my love, was I terrified.

Maybe I am dramatic. You weren’t dead, you weren’t gone, just in a different building, in the same city. I knew where you lived, where you bought your coffee, and your favorite place to dine in. Yet, you felt so far away, so out of reach I could barely handle it. I missed you, so dearly, so madly. 

Weekly escapades to the geekiest of places, a lousy street diner I was too scared to eat at, and that I would just because of you, the faking of high-fives whenever I got an idea, my favorite inside joke, the laughter in the bullpen at my unintentioned comments, the looking over my shoulder to see if you were still there, the joy in my chest whenever you entered the room, the love I didn’t know was love. All gone, away from me. 

Your midnight calls were balm to an open wound. Calming at the stake of some pain. And I knew, one of the very few things I knew, that you weren’t doing good in that place, that your pain was greater than you would express, but your body wouldn’t lie to me, it could never lie to me, the sighs between sentences, the strain in your voice, the tiredness in your breath. But I wasn’t like you, I couldn’t just show up, I didn’t know how. I didn’t know I helped. I didn’t know I was to you what you were to me. A beacon of light, of hope.  

I wondered what was hurting you. Was I not nice enough for you to tell me what, or who, was causing that to you? “Be nice” Hotch had said. Was he nicer? You always went to him for things like these, the matters of the heart. I had to hear from Garcia, months later, about that mysterious fellow agent that was making you cry, and I realized in that moment that I had never known rage. The pure, raw need to tear someone limb by limb. How dare he toy with a soul as giving as yours? Like using the crown jewel as a skipping stone. 

Fortunately, I was not the only one that wanted to protect you. Not the only one that cared enough. A visit from Morgan, a call from Hotch, and the rat was gone, for good, and you were back in the unit, for better. 

Entry 5: When I knew without knowing. 

You’d changed, I could see, and I’d heard heartbreak does that to a person. Yet your smile always seemed to shine bright. It shone for our boss, swallowed in deep grief, it shone for JJ as she was, to no one’s surprise, cruelly taken from us, it shone for Prentiss and her struggles, the ones that were there even when she wouldn’t confess to them. 

Do you remember the flame of my tears on your shoulder when I heard she was dead? I could barely stay home. The walls seemed to crush me if I was alone. I hopped from your house, to JJ’s, to the office, to yours yet again. Your arms were my solace, my God given solace. Whenever I turned, you were there. 

I don’t know what was harder to deal with: her death or her return to life. How did you manage to not take a side? You felt the same pain I did. You cried the same tears I shed. I wondered if you were always stronger than me. Stupid question, the answer was yes. 

“I’m just saying, Spencer.” you twirled around in my kitchen as you spoke, impatient since I was taking a long time to get ready, and there was an appointment to get to.

“Well, okay, then stop saying!” I was shoving a couple of books and other belongings, I can’t even remember what, as I subtly yelled at you. 

Time and again, the stupid book would slip out whenever I tried to close my bag. It was frustrating, infuriating. Kind as you were, you kneeled with me, your hand brushed mine, and a mere graze was enough to slow me down. I looked at you. Did you see pain? I know you did. You always did. My body couldn’t lie to you. 

“I feel it too.” you began to talk “The guilt. The wishing that she was still gone so you wouldn’t have to go through the excruciating pain of betrayal.” bullseye, as per usual. I started to cry; you always made me comfortable enough to break down without care. “If you truly don’t wish to make up with them, the girls, I’ll be on your side. You have the right to feel hurt. If you tell me, right now, hand to heart, that you want to skip Rossi’s dinner and go catch that ridiculous black and white movie, I’ll get up and walk beside you, like I’ve done countless times, and I will also be there, when you are filled with regret, and the words can’t leave your mouth to ask for their forgiveness for your attitude.”

Dragged by your hand, we showed up, and I felt it, the memory of a feeling long not emoted, the warmth of family. You were right, you were always right. I walked you to your place that night, stumbling a little from the wine, laughing about something Garcia and Morgan had said. We stood by your doorway, and you stopped. You looked at me, so deeply, so filled with pride. How could I be so stupid? I should have kissed you at that moment. I should have hugged you in a way you hadn’t before, in a way that told you that in this and many other lives, I needed you with me. I needed you to be mine. 

Entry 6: The start of my demise. 

I still wonder how you did it. How did you stand beside me with a straight face while you broke on the inside? Watching me slowly fall for someone else to a point of no return, a point of devotion you had long earned. 

You knew about Maeve before anyone else. I didn’t have to tell you, my smile gave me away, since you knew it better than anyone, you were the one that put it back there more than once. You supported my every move, my every whim, my every idea to please her, to make her love me. And she loved me, and I loved her, there’s no point in hiding it. 

How did you do it? Seriously, how did you advise me to court her and hear me rant about her  like she was the latest scientific breakthrough? How did you wear a straight face as mine lit up at the thought of her name? How did you pour your heart out to help me find her? All while wearing that damned smile, the cursed reason for my existence. How did you not fall in shambles as you watched me love her? I would have, without question.

So, I beg of you to tell me. How could you possibly love me while I loved someone else? 

It’s like a riddle whose answer is before me, but I can’t see it, I can’t find it. To this day it amazes me, the way that you remained outside my door throughout the night. Did you think I didn’t know you were there? The way you took care of my food and services. Did you know I couldn’t bring myself to even check my bank account? The way you saw through me when I came back to work. You knew I wasn’t okay, regardless of my attempts to prove so. 

You remained for months by my side, showing up at my door when the night got too cold, holding my head on your lap as I sobbed, as I, once again, mourned. You stood there with me trying to fix something someone else had broken, something you didn’t even know if you could glue back together. 

“If I believed in religion, at least I could cling to the hope of meeting her again.” I muttered, and you laughed a bit. 

“Perhaps in another universe, if you’re lucky enough.” smart of you to talk to me in terms I could understand.

“It doesn’t feel like it will ever end, you know? The grief.” I confessed to you as your fingers threaded on my locks, body too tired to hold up straight from crying, so my head laid on your thigh. 

“It will.” you reassured “Maybe not soon, but it will.” 

“Maybe.” I could only agree “but I can’t count on you to soothe my pain forever.” I only looked up because your fingers stopped moving, but I’m glad I did, I’m glad I caught your eyes, filled with endless determination, as you spoke. 

“Says who?” did you mean it? Forever? 

Entry 7: All that’s well… 

After JJ’s abduction, something drastically changed. Not just the two of us, but the entire team. Our secrets were no longer innocent and blameless, they were dangerous, harmful. They could tear us apart if not properly shared. They could push us away if we didn’t say them outright. 

My love for you was my deepest rooted secret, pushed so far into the drawer I had forgotten about it myself, too scared to pull it out, afraid I’d just have to push it back in without giving it a chance to show off. 

No more secrets. That’s the pact we all agreed on. I kept thinking about that as you walked with me. You knew it had hit me hard to see JJ so weak and hurt, reduced to bruises and agony; you also knew I would find a way to blame myself if I were to be left alone in that room, so you decided to make me some company. We dined in silence, utter absence of sound that did not, at any moment, feel odd. You walked with me, not next to me, with me. And you waited by the door for my invitation to enter. I could just stare at you, so beautifully patient, so wonderfully loving. So easy to love. 

“No more secrets.” I told you, my eyes unable to leave your face. 

“Yes, Spence. No more secrets.” you answered with that blissful smile of yours. You caught up rather quick that I was hiding something. I could never fool you, not you. “Is there something else you need to tell me?” you questioned me, and I could see the look in your eyes trying to subtly profile me. 

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Over 7,000 languages are spoken in this world, and there were still not enough words to describe what I felt for you. I didn’t talk. My lips just found their way to yours, so naturally, so right. 

“This is a mistake.” you muttered. You were still unsure, you would tell me later, that life could be so kind to you, to have me love you. How silly of you, darling, to even dare to think I could not. 

Our bodies didn’t lie, they couldn’t lie to each other. Your tongue gave you away, it spoke of truce but tasted of war. Your hands explored all of my body, they felt my every vein, and tasted the pulse of a heart that beat for you. Your mouth spilled honey-like sounds as I greedily took every part of you for my pleasure. As I embedded your scent in my brain, to the record of things I loved about you. I had never made love. Sex, once or twice, but never love. I remember watching you sleep, your warm cheek on my bare chest; your hands, even unconsciously, clinging to my torso as if I were to slip away like a dream. But you felt so real, oh honey, you were so real. You were so mine. And I couldn’t remember the last time I was held so close I could touch love. 

I can still hear Hotch’s sermon. No more secrets, that’s what we pacted, and you were big on promises, but to be fair, so was I. An hour, I recall, we were shoved inside that office. Hands together, faces down, like children caught in the act. 

“Fraternization is dangerous,” it was his third time saying that “and if this were to come out, I would have to transfer one of you.” we didn’t care, and he could tell. He sighed, in defeat. “Just tell me one thing.” he changed directions “Are you happy?” 

He was asking you, yet pretended the question was for both. You didn’t entertain him with an answer. He already knew. He knew in the way you reached for my hand, in the way I held back a smile. He nodded. Did he approve? I don’t think we’ll ever know, but he protected us, he always protected us. 

That day, we drank and danced all together, as if our love was a reason for celebration. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret to anyone but us. Long ago they figured we’d end up together, even got some complaints for having been later rather than sooner. 

Life was good and kind with you by my side, filled with laughter, adventure, and pleasure. The darkest nights still glimmered with your presence, like a blindfold being lifted to reveal the cold truth; all it took for life to be kind was me loving you, and you loving me. 

Entry 8: Alone we stand 

When did I stop making sense? Curiously enough, that’s the one moment I can’t pinpoint. I broke a promise, and the downfall caught up. 

“Were you even going to tell me?!” you paced around my apartment in rage. 

“Come on, you know I was” I had gotten defensive, regardless of my wrongdoing. 

“When, exactly? After you had fixed it? ‘Cause you have to fix everything alone?” you snarked at me. 

“I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s a private matter.” worst phrasing I could have chosen, to be honest. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Spence. I think I have proven for quite a while now that I’m here for the bad and the worst. Instead, I have to find out your mother has Alzheimer’s through a hitman. You told a hitman before you told me!” I see now, that your anger was not unfounded. 

“She had a gun to my crotch! What did you want me to do!?” I tried to argue. 

“Oh, okay, so that’s what it takes to get you to open up?” 

No, you didn’t hold a gun to my crotch. You did way worse, you forgave me, and we moved on. But it was never the same, oh no, I could feel it, we both could feel it. How conversations seemed to require more energy, how the touches were more scripted than impulsive, how after a few hours you realized that you hadn’t thought about me in a little while. 

I tried to fix it. It’s what I always do. Perhaps if I could get us both in the same place, it would happen again, the spark that we had lost. I asked you to move in with me, and you agreed. We were happy again, not simply because of the fact, but because it was a great reminder for both of us, that the future was together, it had always been together. 

But alas, life isn’t kind enough. We had agreed to find a new place, somewhere we could turn ‘ours’ without getting rid of the ‘mine’. It was taking time, of course, since we wanted it to be perfect. And little did we know that time was the only thing in this world we didn’t have. 

The news of Hotch’s departure hurt us all in a way we never truly recovered from, but for you, for the never-ending-loving you, it left a wound I couldn’t close. I saw the always dreaded glint of loneliness in your eye, the same one I carried when Gideon left. I saw the breaking of a soul that had lost a mentor, a protector, you lost the ground you walked onto and never learned how to fly. 

We didn’t make it. I don’t think it was your fault, or mine, for that matter, life just happened so fast, so merciless. I loved you, that never stopped, and you loved me, I know that much. All I could do was hold on to the hope that I had made the right decision, the decision to push you away, to save you from the torture that our life would be. I would do anything for my mother, even if that meant standing back on my own, without you. 

I’m sorry, my love, that it took me so long to understand. That the strength you were lending me was not for me to judge, but to carry, to use as a tool to build what we dreamed of . I didn’t learn about it until JJ visited one day, when I was mourning the love that we had, that she told me what happened the day she showed up at your apartment, knees on the ground, to beg you to continue loving me. 

“It wasn’t my decision, Jennifer.” you said, barely allowing yourself to glance at her. 

“He’s just doing this because he thinks he’s protecting you, you know that.” she tried to argue on my behalf. 

“JJ, you are his best friend, if you’re asking me to convince him to change his mind, you know it would be easier to get Garcia to play soccer.” you were right, by the way. JJ was about to give up. 

“He needs you.” she kept trying. 

“No, he doesn’t.” you answered “He needs someone to be there for him, at his constant back and call, to dedicate their very being to his happiness, to pour out the entirety of themselves onto him, and I can’t be that person. I can’t.” 

“But why not!?” to her, it also didn’t make much sense. You always were, what was different this time? 

“Because I’m not whole.” you finally admitted. 

She had to hear you cry for hours at how lost you felt. I didn’t understand I’d become a part of you, and by taking me away, I was ripping a portion of who you were. With Hotch gone, there was no way you could fix yourself, not fast enough, at least. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know. 

You stayed for the man that more than once had your back. You stayed to catch Mr. Scratch. I was no longer the hope you held on to, I was no longer the one you chased after, Aaron was your last hope, your last piece to make sense of whatever you felt like was happening around you. The person who would return to you the will to love something that wasn’t me. 

But he wasn’t there, and you were lost. 

Entry 9: Together we fall apart. 

I can’t blame you for leaving, you had no reason to stay, the job had long ago stopped making sense, it was the people that you loved what made you stick around, and now we were gone, in more than one sense. And believe when I say I missed you, with every pore of my heart, even if I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to at least know how you were doing. 

I did wonder, though, if having you around would have made a difference. If you could have seen something all of us missed, if you had protected me better, if you could had helped me when I didn’t know how to help myself. 

Cat Adams would ruin me in more than one way, sure, but regarding us, I’m sure now I’m the only one to blame. A series of unfortunate events by Spencer Reid.

“We told her you were in prison.” Emily said as she sat across the booth, with a crystal screen separating the both of us. There was no need to say your name. They all knew you were all I ever thought about. “She’s asking to be put on the list.” 

“Emily!” I yelled out of reflex .

“I’m sorry, Spence, but she’s really worried, and maybe she could help.” 

“My answer is no.” I watched her sigh as I said those words. 

“Can I at least tell her you’re thinking about it?” she still tried to convince me, for your sake. “And, will you think about it?” I nodded. 

I promise I thought it through, hard and well. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you, I didn’t want you to see me. I knew, I knew you would try to fix it, and I couldn’t do that to you, not again. Regardless, you still tried. You made sure my mother was safe and well, you made her company, it wasn’t your fault, I don’t hold it against you, they outsmarted us all. And I’m sorry, again, that after I was freed I still couldn’t bring myself to face you. 

Many things happened in the following years. I wish I could have seen you one more time just to tell you all about it. A coffee by my apartment window, a nap on that comfy living room couch, a laugh by the bullpen. The things I’d have done to have one more moment with you. 

The second time I died, it was way less scary. Guess I had some practice. If I told you who I saw, you wouldn’t have believed me, but it was the message that counted. I wasn’t ready to go, and I wasn’t ready to leave you. If I were to stay, I was going to fight to at least see you one more time, to hear your laugh once again.

My mom did tell me that I should be careful what I wish for, and when I woke up in that hospital room, after a horrible stroke nonetheless, I understood why. 

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Penelope remained for a second by my bed after my mom had left to get some water. 

My eyebrows furrowed the slightest, I couldn’t move that much. “What did you do?” 

“I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and I didn’t think much before I hit the call.” she continued to explain. 

Again, I could only tilt my head in confusion, something about having brain failure had made me the tiniest bit slower. The fog cleared very quickly, though, once I saw you walk through the door. You were as beautiful as the day I met you, only now I could see, and I would never cease to see. You walked to the bed and your hand reached out for mine, like it was supposed to be. 

“Hey, you.” you said softly. 

“Hey,” I muttered. If I had been able to breathe better, believe me I would have yelled out like an excited 5 year old “what are you doing here?” 

“I recently realized I’ve grown into the habit of showing up after you almost died.” you joked, and it was like time hadn’t passed at all “which, if you ask me, it’s a weird habit to have.” it was my turn to laugh, you always caused that in me. 

Penelope had stepped out, she knew we needed the space, as for our souls could only be bare if it was just the two of us. You came closer, and our eyes met, and time actually stopped, and everything was okay. 

“I will always love you.” I’m sorry I said it like that, I know it’s not what you expected. 

“Spencer…” you began to talk. 

“No, just,” I cut you off “I know I can get it right this time.” the way that you looked at me I will never forget, a look you had never given me, that you respected me too much to give me, the look of pity. 

“I’m not a second chances program” you started “I couldn’t just wait around until you were ready to notice that I was still there, that you allowed me back in.” 

Your tears threatened to fall. I could see them, that’s not what I wanted, that’s never what I wanted. I reached for your face, and you leaned against my hand. Old habits die hard, don’t they? I should know, since I had fallen into the habit of wanting you, of loving you. This and every other life. I couldn’t hold them any longer, the sobs, the tears, the pain, the pain only you could heal, only you could let me show. I love you because of your strength, since it allowed me to be weak without remorse. 

You did the same for me, your gentle fingers caressing my cheek, pushing away the salty droplets. “It’s okay, Spencer, it’s okay.” you whispered “we have to let us go.” 

“And if we’re lucky enough?” I asked. 

“If we’re lucky enough,” your face smiled, but the strain in your voice showed me the misery in your words, along with their genuinity “in another universe, you would have been with Maeve and I would have never loved you. And we could finally be happy.” 

You couldn’t have been more wrong to think, even for a second, that my destiny was any other than you. I didn’t have the words to prove it, I could form a sentence to save my life, save the love of my life. I tried to kiss you. I wish you had done it, you would have understood. 

“My boyfriend is waiting outside.” you muttered before my lips could meet home, and like that, you were gone. 

Entry 10: I think I’ll be alright. 

I never saw you again, but it’s okay. Years to come I would question every decision I had made, did they lead me to you, or just pushed you away? There was no way of telling. Regrets are a broken sword, dull enough to be harmless, and sharp enough to hurt. Would you have done something differently? I doubt so. 

I’m thankful, nonetheless, to have been given the opportunity to concur. To have been loved by you. I did wish for a different ending, but who am I to be selfish? I had it all, even if I lost it. Until years later I would hear about your marriage; you eloped, as we always thought we would do, planning a wedding was too much of a hassle. Did you end up having kids? If you did, lucky them, if something they were to never lack, it would be love. I hope he is treating you well, that you are happy, like you always deserved. 

Me? I finally had to learn. The grief finally went away, you see, someone once told me that love comes in moments, and later in life I found myself clinging to that thought. If love comes in moments, my darling, after everything we've been through, yours will last me a million years. 

Even if I got just a fraction of it.” 

The silence was covered by the rustling of book pages as the woman finished speaking. Yet her crowd of one didn’t seem to show much reaction, which was a source of concern. 

"Spencer, would you like me to read it again?" Penelope asked as she swayed back and forth on the rocking chair the staff had given to her. 

"Sorry?" he asked, seemingly lost in thought.

"Ma'am." a gentle nurse interrupted them "visitation time is over, Dr. Reid has to rest."

"Of course." the once blonde woman, whose hair now shone silver, said as she handed the diary back to his owner "Here, take this."

"Is this mine?" a still confused Spencer continued to question.

"Yes, it's your favorite book." she reiterated.

"Really?" his fingers fidgeted with the cover "What is it about?"

Penelope couldn't help the way her eyes filled with water, like they did every week whenever she had to leave the friend she'd visit in that mental facility without fail.

"The greatest love story ever told."

[qierxing]

Love Duet

A/N: Listened to Piano Duet from Corpse Bride and cried from the emotional trauma

Yan! Riddle Rosehearts + Heartslabyul x Reader

Halloween AU

“Tell me darling, can a heart be broken even when it stops beating?”

CW/TW: Allusion to murder? yeah

—

For the longest time, Riddle thought he could never give his heart to another.

Not that he could in literal terms. His heart had long been cut out and his body left to rot in the sheer cold. His groomsmen also suffered the same fate even though they weren’t even the one to stand at the altar. For that, the emotion that he had felt at death was not anger or even guilt, but rather tired remorse.

His groomsmen, his dearest friends, had done all they could to console him as each agonizing decade passed. “One day, your true love will come to set you free.” Trey, his closest confidant had said at one time, clasping a reassuring arm around his shoulders. Riddle didn’t have the heart (no pun intended) to tell him that he no longer believed in love. If the one his mother chose couldn’t bear to love him, then how could he ever be sure that someone else would be willing to?

So when he and his men are resurrected, he’s face to face not with a skilled necromancer, but rather a terrified little mortal. You’re like a puny  mouse, scurrying backwards and falling comically in a pile of snow as the five of them merely stare at you dumbly. 

‘This must be a mistake’ is the first thing Riddle thought. 

It was…not apparently. But it might as well have been. He almost bursts a blood vessel when you sheepishly say, “I wasn’t expecting anything out of a stupid Halloween summoning ritual…” in response to his stern inquiry. Trey has to hold him back from blowing up at you, while Ace and Cater are bellowing hearty laughs, never having been entertained by such an innocent statement before. 

He wants to immediately go back to the land of dead after such a stupid encounter, but it’s you who reaches out for his skeletal hand and pulls him back.

“I’m really sorry for wasting your time! Please, is there anything I can do for you gentlemen to repay for it?”

At the time, he was only irritated and impatient. He wanted to get you off his tail and to never see you again. So he only sneers that haughty smirk of his and replies with the unthinkable.

“Very well. Find a way to let us all pass on.”

Ace and Deuce flinch, Cater opens his mouth with shocked eyes, and Trey also moves to object, but they all fall silent at his raised hand. They all knew that his demand was impossible: the four of them would not pass on without seeing Riddle’s wish fulfilled, and Riddle’s wish…

But you aren’t deterred at all, determination shining in your eyes and smiling big. 

“Alright!”

–

He had regretted his challenge then. He was forced to watch you start to clumsily make attempts on getting to know them all better. There’s something that twists in his chest as he sees you get along with Ace and Deuce, the three of you usually off to prank some poor soul. It slithers around in his guts as he watches as you show Cater how you take photos on your shiny sleek ‘smartphone’ and how Trey teaches you how to make macarons; clenching around his throat and mouth.

He’s repeatedly turned away each time you ask to spend time together and even conversations he cuts short. At first it was stubbornness but…when Trey questions him after he turned down another invitation from you, he can only clench his fists and stay silent.

Truthfully, there wasn’t any good reason. It was petty, at the most. Maybe it’s because you remind him when he was alive, when he was earnest to do his best no matter what. 

It’s finally when he catches you humming a tune that sounds hauntingly familiar that he breaks his silence. 

“That song…” You turn with wide eyes at him acknowledging you.

"You know this song?" He asks, and you slowly nod. 

"Yeah, my mom used to sing it to me all the time." You answer meekly, as if caught doing something naughty. Something tugs him to open his mouth again.

"Your mother?"

"Uh, yeah! She said that it was passed down to her by grandma, and to grandma by her mama–"

How could he not realize it? Like a spell breaking, it’s like his eyes have been opened to the truth. Your face, though long losing the exact likeness, still contained traces of her. Your cheeks, the curve of your lips, your eyes–it was like he was back to that fateful day at the altar.

“Do you, d̶̨̛͓̤̮͈͓̜͔̜̘̙͚̝̀̿̉̓̿͗͆͘͘̕e̴̢̠͕̹̜̼̬͇̰̒̂̑̽̏̈͜͜ͅā̸̠̝͊̚r̵̢̙̹̯̟͓̹̫̮̘͍̼̾͛̈́̾͆̏̈́̌͌͘͠ļ̵̧̭̻̲̰̳̞̥̮͎͚̃́̿́̊̀͂͝ẏ̵̧̗͓̞͎̲̦̭̄̃͊̍̑̑͛͂̋ ̷̪͕̠̰͇̬̜̾͘b̴̲̫̯͈̠͓͙̤̮̓̈́̌̂̈̈̄̈̓͂͊͘͝͝ͅě̵̡̤̗̔̑̂͊͝l̷̢̢̜͓̖͎͍̗̣̲͎̹̖͗̈͐͊͋́̎͐͗́̇͋͜o̶̙̝͎͍͇̝͑̿̀̽͑v̷̬̥̈́͛́̋̊͗̈̑̚e̶͎̗̝̫̗̤͍̘̓̆͒̓ͅd̷̳̜̤͔͎̫̤̞̈́̒̎̇̉̎͗̃̋̈̚͝ͅ, take Riddle Roseheart to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death?” The priest intones. The morning light shines behind him, giving an almost saintlike glow to the man as he presides over the two. His bride is silent, and he frowns as an awkward silence stretches.

“No.”

 A gasp of outrage and confusion reverberates in the chapel, including his own groomsmen, who worriedly looks at him during the exclamation. 

“Riddle?” He snaps back to the present as a hand waves in front of his face. “Are…you okay?”

You’re not her. He supposes it is ironic: fate has brought him back to face his past again, but not in matrimony or love, but in a bet. No matter how much he wishes for it, you were not her.

“I’m okay.” He replies in a voice so distant he doesn’t realize it comes from him. He reaches a hand out to touch your cheek and as your confused eyes meet his own calm ones, he can only think of how his heart is at ease.

“I’m okay.” 

He sighs with a genuine smile spreading across his face.

–

You’re not sure if it’s good that Riddle is like this.

You were sure something possessed Riddle to act so sweetly to you, when only a couple weeks ago he refused to be left alone in a room with you. You would like to be happy that he’s finally warming up to you, but the change is so abrupt that you find it hard to be fully convinced that he truly likes you. It’s like he’s a different person, pulling out chairs for you, brewing you tea whenever you want something hot, and even helping you with your chores. As he stays close by your side, you’re starting to feel a bit nervous.

And you’re not sure how to tell him that you’re nowhere near close to figuring out how to lay them to proper rest. 

It’s like they are all synchronized: Ace likes to lie outright and just brush you off, Trey and Cater both avert their eyes and try to distract you with a different topic, and Deuce is all but skillful with his fumbling words. But they still remain tightlipped about what they wish before they pass on to the afterlife. Maybe Riddle would know?

He doesn’t look surprised at your recountings, but nor does he look smug as you expected him to be either. He only continues to sip the breakfast tea you brewed with a calm expression before setting it down with a quiet clack.

“It’s because their wish is tied with mine.” You blink, processing the information.

“And my wish…” He trails off, eyes staring into his cup. “Do you truly want to hear it?”

There’s something in his voice that sets your nerves on edge, but you can’t abandon your goal when you’re this close. It would be cruel to deprive the mens’ souls from finding true peace at this point.

You swallow. “What is it?”

“True love.” His eyes move up to stare into your wide ones. “I wish to be with the one I truly love.”

There’s a heavy silence that hangs in the air after the statement. His eyes continue to bore into yours and your heart starts beating faster. He can’t possibly mean…

“Have…have you found someone you truly love?” You ask, throat dry and tightening.

His lips curl up into a smirk. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

“Who is...?”

His smirk widens. “I think you may already know.”

You get up abruptly, pushing back your chair and sending silverware clattering. Riddle’s face immediately scrunches in disapproval, but you have more to worry about than a nagging lecture.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you pass on anymore.” The words are out of your mouth before you can rethink them. Riddle’s face becomes stone cold, silver grey eyes narrowing into needles. His head tilts back haughtily, still looking down on you even as he’s seated.

“It seems you’re mistaken. You don’t have a choice now. You promised, remember?”

–

Trey, though he looked guilty, had no arguments when Riddle ordered him to carry your slumbering body as they traveled back to the land of the dead. The rest of his groomsmen surprisingly don't bat an eye. Cater just grins and says he can't wait to show you around the land of the dead. The younger duo also chimes in that they wanna teach you more scare tactics and hang out more. Riddle also doesn't miss the way Trey tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear when it seems no one is looking.

But he’s glad, because it means he only needs to worry about when you wake up from your forced slumber. You may not like the new change, being removed from your home so rudely, but you made a promise, and he won’t let you walk away from it.

Perhaps he won't be able to pass on, as he regards your sleeping face, but at least he can spend the rest of eternity with you and his men.

[mamaskillerqueen]

The First Time || Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: This is kinda angsty but also not... idk you tell me. I’ll add warnings y’all think are necessary because I suck at that and I’m sorry.

A/N: I randomly came across a song on TikTok one time and that is what sparked this idea. You should check it out. It’s called The First Time by Sam James

There was a faint snoring that was coming from the man beside you, a ticking of a watch that was placed on the bedside table echoed as well. Normally these sounds wouldn’t drive you as crazy as it was right now. A slight glance at the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock next to him told you it was just passed 3am. What felt like days ago when you crawled into the bed with him those numbers had only read 9pm.



As you laid awake memories ran through your head like a carefree child running through a field of daisy’s. Nights like this used to be your favourite. Here in the eerie silence with the cold black of night and the miles between you and the man next to you, that was no longer the case. It was rare that Jake was home early on a Friday night with no plans for Saturday. They used to mean early nights of movies and cuddling and talking until the sun came up. Now, you weren’t sure when the last time was that you shared something other than surface level pleasantries.



Nearly two years together was a huge accomplishment for the both of you. Neither of you had been big on long term relationships prior to each other. That was why you found yourself silently suffering in nostalgia. Things had been a little different lately. You’d both fallen into a routine and slowly started neglecting the things that made you feel so close to each other. Almost like you’d forgotten why you fell in love.

Pulling you from your musings, Jake huffed as he rolled onto his side. Watching him turn away from you, a deep ache settled into your chest. An ache like this had never happened to you before. You missed a man that was right beside you. The absence of his snoring was only slightly comforting while you allowed yourself to spiral down memory lane. You couldn’t help your own sigh while thinking about the late night walks down the beach, holding hands the whole way. Those ended a while ago.



It was almost 3:30 in the morning when you couldn’t take it anymore. You slid out of bed as slowly and quietly as possible. Nights like these, when he knew he didn’t have to worry about waking up, Jake could be a heavy sleeper. Creeping down the stairs you were glad tonight was one of those nights. Tonight, while the house was quiet and dark you would wallow and eat ice cream from the carton.



Tomorrow with the sun rise, you would pretend like you slept fine and things weren’t off between the two of you. With the sun rise, you could pretend like the little bickering that had started recently was normal. You could pretend like it didn’t bother you. With daylight you could act like you weren’t hurting because despite it all, you were so stupidly, madly, crazily in love with the man in your bed.



It would be nice to be best friends with your boyfriend again but this was uncharted territory. The waters were choppy, and the waves won’t stop coming in for their attempt to drown your love. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like this wasn’t good enough for you and it all to end. You would rather doggy paddle for your life to keep him in this way than risk losing him forever to the tide. So, a night of wallowing and ice cream would just have to be your coping mechanism.



The refrigerator door was hanging open, the light shining bright enough to illuminate the spoons in your silverware drawer. Your phone was quietly playing Jake’s Spotify playlist, a mix of songs he always said reminded him of you. It’s been at least two months since he’s added a song to it. You had gotten one bite of ice cream before you felt arms wrap around your waist.



“What are doin’ down here, darlin’?”



His voice was thick with sleep and the drawl of his accent sent shivers in all the right places. When you turned around in his arms you could see his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked like something the cat dragged in but you’ve never thought he looked more handsome. The spoon was still in your hand as you wrapped your arms around his neck and did your best to hide the fact that you were allowing the waters to pull you under. Even if just for a moment.



“Couldn’t sleep, so ice cream. Obviously.”



You felt the low rumble in his chest rather than heard his laugh. His arms tightened around your waist when you planted your feet firmly on the ground so you could turn back around. He had no intentions of letting you move from his view. There was an intense scrutiny happening and you hadn’t even realised it at first. His brow knitted together slowly and yours arched in response.



“You gonna tell me what’s really botherin’ you, sweets?”



The silence was different down here, mostly because of your music playing. Still the faint buzzing from the refrigerator was his only answer, aside from the slightly ashamed look that crossed your features. If the floor opened up a hole to swallow you, that would be preferable to answering that question. It was still dark. No sun on the horizon yet. Just a pale blue glow in a tiny kitchen shining on the wallowing you were allowing yourself.



Another song started up, faint guitar building into one of your favourites on the playlist. He had sung this song to you so many times, back when things weren’t so stuck. Part of you was hoping he’d just start humming, spin you in a few circles and forget about the pain in your eyes. You knew him too well, which was why you sighed.



“I really miss you.”



Confusion splashed across his face as you fought to come up for air. He clearly didn’t understand why you were drowning in the same water he was floating happily in.



“Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve talked about anything with substance? Since you’ve kissed me on the beach like we were the only two people on the planet? You’ve not sang me this song in so long…”



You hated how it sounded like your voice was cracking as if you’d swallowed too much salt water. A look flashed across his face, one you couldn’t place. The impending tide was slowly sweeping in and you were too tired to doggy paddle against it. And then it swept out, leaving nothing but sandy beach beneath your toes. You had no idea you could still touch the ground until the water was gone.



“It’s been too long,” he sighed heavily and you didn’t know it was possible but his arms tightened around you even more. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. You deserve so much better than what I’ve been givin’ you lately.”



It was startling to realise that the ground was still under your feet, and that Jake had a hold of you so tightly you couldn’t have drowned if you wanted to.  As you looked up into his face you could see the weeks, the months tallying up in his head. You could see the choppy waters finally catching up to him.



The sand beneath your feet was a jolting feeling. It sunk between your toes and anchored you to the ground as the waves started to roll in again. You noticed almost immediately that you weren’t needing to doggy paddle anymore. Maybe Jake’s arms around your waist and his chest pressed to yours was the buoy you needed.



“I think I know what we need,” Jake finally muttered. The slow growing smirk on his face had the beat of your heart racing, but this time it wasn’t in fear of drowning. Now it was anticipation. You’d been together long enough to know that look in his eyes.



An arched brow gave him enough but you hummed in question still, hoping he’d elaborate a little more. Instead of words though, his arms unwrapped from you as he reached for the ice cream still sat on the counter. Ice started melting down the sides of the carton, pulling into a puddle on the counter top which was surprising because of the chill from the fridge still being open. Once Jake had replaced the lid and shoved the sweet treat into the freezer he grabbed the spoon from your hand and replaced it with his own.



“We gotta put time in to get back to normal, right? So, tonight I’m taking you back up to bed and I’m gonna fuck you like it’s the first time,” he’d tossed the spoon into the sink and had pulled you into his chest as he spoke. That smirk still prominent on his face. “And then tomorrow, we’re gonna stay in bed until noon. We’re gonna party with our friends in the evening, and then I’m gonna take you on a walk down the beach so you can fill me in on everything I’ve missed the last few months.”



A hand came up to your cheek, cupping your jaw as his eyes met yours. For the first time in so long you felt like the waters were calming, like you were no longer in water too deep to touch. You could stand here, and if the waters ever got choppy again you knew that Jake was your buoy. A smile pulled your lips up, and you didn’t have to worry about a mouthful of salt water anymore.



“I think you had me at taking me back to bed, Cowboy.”

[chainelunaire]

I have a question to ask? Remember that Carrie Underwood song “before he cheats” How would your Best friend the LOV members? Dabi, Shigaraki, Spinner, (separately) help you get revenge on your cheating EX?

this is fun, thank you for asking!

dabi: i think since he's a bit of an asshole he would at first try to some sort of... tease you about it? he's so nonchalant and aloof about any crap in his life, he assumes everyone around him are the same. well, it sure does sound like he's straight up mocking you, so when he sees how much this whole situation truly hurts you he finally stops. he doesn't like seeing you in pain, he claims that he doesn't care, but yeah he does. also, out of the three he's the best companion for a revenge. don't get me wrong, he'll happily help, but he won't do anything himself. this has some deeper meaning actually rather than his laziness. he believes it is important to not take the satisfaction from you, he knows the importance of this firsthand. this revenge is yours to take, it's your moment of pride. it's his gift for you, if you will. he'll help with planning everything tho. he's calculating and calm when he needs to be; very patient and can teach you a thing or two about waiting for the exactly right moment. sometimes he's almost too slow for your liking, but on the other hand everything he'd planned for you goes exactly like he predicted, so you better listen. due to his sadistic nature, he's not above playing with the victim, and he will teach you that too. big fan of creating suspense, some sort of pressure. like those old hollywood noir films come to mind. he will absolutely help to scare your poor ex from the shadows, slowly driving him crazy with anxiety. not only is he proud of your dark side shining so brightly, but he really finds it fun. depends on you, if you want for things to get really violent or not, but he'll at least try to persuade you to let go and enjoy the ride. and if you listen to him, things can get messy (only slightly, bc dabi really enjoys clean work and he's too lazy to go after anybody else than this scumbag). shigaraki could be annoyed for a day or two, but... actually, no, he won't be pissed at all. great job you two.

shigaraki: oh. he's beyond excited. not because of your suffering, of course, but bc now The Real Game begins. has his own ways to comfort you, the most obvious one being trashing you ex with the most degrading insults you may only think of. will never let you think that was your fault, he literally feels his blood boil every time he hears something like that. you don't even have to ask him to help you, one day he's suddenly in your room with an insanely throughout plan and most batshit crazy glimmer in his eyes, so you better take the chance while you can. he finds great joy in helping you by planning everything for you, it really is a new game to him. but this time he's doing it for a friend, for someone he finds dear, so he kinda wants to take the burden off your shoulders. unlike dabi, he will get involved directly in this mess, he doesn't think he's taking anything from you - quite the opposite. he's given you the opportunity. and, he probably won't admit it, but he's really willing to do all the work for you, if it's too painful for you now. he doesn't want to, but he could. buuut, he'd still rather wait (even though he's not a fan of waiting) and you do the main act yourself. he's not patient at all tho. he also prefers the revenge to be fast and brutal. not a fan of theatrics, he's a straight to a point kind of guy. also, unlike dabi, he absolutely will go after every single one person involved, jesus christ even your ex's parents included, this whole thing gets soooo messy omg. at some point it really feels like the whole city knows you were cheated on. he doesn't find it embarrassing at all, there's nothing to be ashamed of. at the very end, you'll be the one who's having the last laugh, so he's kinda right. whether you like it or not, things will get really violent when he's involved, and he won't stop until the last person who had offended you is down. he's like a hell hound, some sort of a death reaper. and even if your ex thinks he can escape, because he's the last in shigaraki's list, well... not really. no one can run away from shigaraki tomura, and in the end you find great satisfaction in this knowledge.

spinner: the only decent one who at least tries (once) to convince you not to do it. he does this mostly on autopilot, because he's a considerate friend. he feels nothing towards that shithead, but he's worried that you would regret it later. actually, the only one that expresses his worries about you to you, verbally. he's surprisingly good at communicating his feelings, and he feels awful for you, he really-really does. he doesn't want to make it even worse (even though he really wants to throw some particularly heavy things at some faces). when he's finally sure you won't change your mind, he's all about business. he's not a big fan of a bloodbath, but he believes in power public humiliation holds. sadly, he knows it firsthand. he's very meticious with all the blackmail and he's great with timing. the cleanest work one could imagine (only dabi compares, but he has understandably more experience). he too is great in driving your ex crazy with anxiety, but in a much more subtle way. he won't scare anyone directly, but his actions create a very negative, anxious environment to your ex. the whole thing is building up rather slowly, but consictently. if you want things to go a little more bloody, spinner may ask dabi or shigaraki for help actually, without revealing the main reason. it's still less messy if the whole gang was involved, but now it's definitely much scarier for your ex. he will set traps and will get your ex recorded, he will collect every piece of information he could find, and he will reveal it at the right moment. he's not above some fake leaks either - everything will work. he would definitely make sure that almost everyone in city knows your ex's dirty laundry. it's so not pretty in general, bc believe it or not, spinner is great at understanding people and how they think and behave. he knows that the crowd is always hungry and all he needs to do is to throw it a bone. it may even look like he's not done much, because it's your ex's surroundings who are tearing him apart, not you or spinner. as i said, he's not at all as sadistic as those two above, but he too will find some sick sort of enjoyment at the end. he really, really knows how it feels, and he knows very well that death can feel like a much more merciful option. living with such hate is a lot harder, than just dying, and spinner just proved you that.

[swanqueen1215]

Opinion on the meaning of the songs in Beetlejuice The Musical

Songs centered on Beetlejuice and Lydia

I've noticed that Lydia and Beetlejuice's songs are intrinsically related to the name and being invisible, I think it's pretty obvious, but I've also found some other things.

In the prologue we can find this sentence:

"You're invisible when you're sad"

And:

"Is it being greedy to need somebody to see me

And say my name?"

And in Dead Mom, we'll find this part

"I'll go insane if things don't change

Whatever it takes to make him say your name, Dead Mom!"

And in Invisible: Reprise:

"You're invisible when you're me"

And:

Can you...

See me?

Yeah

You can see me!

I'm gonna have a new best friend!!

We can know that they both feel invisible (obviously) and find in each other the validation they need. Also apparently saying that person's name automatically gives her visibility, like in the song Dead Mom, Lydia wants her father to say her mother's name, so that he stops treating her as if she doesn't exist. That brings me to mind that the personification of invisibility is Beetlejuice and his signature song is:

"Say My Name"

And the song in which the two collide, which I personally like to call, "the bonding song" is:

That Beautiful Sound

Both people who felt invisible, finally collide... And it's a great respite for the two of them. Both finally feel recognized by the other.

"Hey look at me! (we're looking at you girl)"

"I'm finally free (You're finally free girl!)"

"I was invisible (she was invisible)"

"But now they all see!!"

Only in that beautiful moment do they feel that they don't need anyone but each other, since their company is enough.

They both feel seen and valued by someone who understands the pain and suffering of being alone.

But that feeling of closeness between Beetlejuice and Lydia is cut off as abruptly as it began. And he could say that it was Lydia who broke his heart, because Beetlejuice immediately feels that she betrayed him by breaking off their friendship and abandoning him to find her mother.

I have a slight suspicion that Beetlejuice wanted Lydia to be his wife, because he was already perfectly happy with her and didn't want that happiness to be taken away from him again.

Now let's talk a little bit about the song:

The Whole Being Dead Thing Pt 3 & Good Old Fashioned Wedding

We all know that everything Beetlejuice did was to put Lydia up against the wall and force her to marry him... But there's something that baffles me a bit. Beetlejuice was ready in just a few seconds to force his only friend to marry him, revealing a sad truth. Beetlejuice is always ready to receive a "no" or maybe he's always ready to fight for his interests because it's very likely that a lot of people have failed him.

And after hearing the "ok, I'll do it, I'll marry you," he was so excited that he revealed something that my sister made me realize.

Not only was Beetlejuice considering Lydia as a good choice to marry, but she is the ONLY OPTION for him...

But everything would fall apart when Lydia would rather go to Netherworld than share her life with him.

But, up to this point, Lydia has already betrayed him twice, it's obvious that Beetlejuice's ego is in tatters, obviously she's hurt him a lot and if she's not the one marrying him, then no one would be...

So, as if it were a punishment, Beetlejuice, shattered by her second betrayal, threatened to kill everyone present.

On top of that, without Lydia, there was no longer anything to tie him down to anyone present, although I would like to point out that Delia was still an option.

(But I'll talk about that in another post)

Now, let's talk about the elephant in the room...

My Creepy Old Guy

Phew, I have several things to say about this song...

Contrary to what many think, I don't think this song is a mockery of Beetlebabes fans.

1- This song is a joke for the audience and a mockery of the cultures that continue to do this type of practice (marrying a minor to an adult man) It's also a joke that most women understood, as it's a reference to the sexual harassment we receive when we go out on the street just for existing, and the fact that Lydia finds this "cute and vile" is a very funny contradiction. It's also why we can find Lydia leading the song (and Beetlejuice's footsteps throughout the entire stage). If you notice, both Adam and Charles have only two sentences in the entire song, which allows the women to talk about the harassment they have received almost their entire lives.

2- They don't romanticize the wedding, we all know he's forcing it on her, just to get that "green card thing," It's very obvious that the song is a very funny irony... It turns out that Lydia "suddenly" has a crush on the guy she just met and who just forced her into a marriage she didn't want.

But there's some of what we're missing.

That "something" is that we're missing Beetlejuice's point of view in this scene...

What happens is that Beetlejuice really believed that Lydia was in love with him and for a moment he thought that he wasn't actually forcing her...

And that's what Lydia really wanted to do... And so she continued the charade:

"Everywhere, fellas would stare

Out on the street"

"And I felt used

Kinda confused"

"I would refuse to look in their eyes"

"But now I really love creepy old guys"

"We all do!"

I love Beetlejuice's reaction in this scene. Because immediately after listening to it, Beetlejuice gets excited to find out and his face is like:

No...

...fucking...

...way!!

REALLY?!

Then we have this part:

"They make me blush"

(Can't get enough)

"Now one of 'em loves me, wants to be mine"

(That's right)

"Marrying my own creepy old guy!"

At this point, Lydia assures that Beetlejuice loves her and that she does want to be with him, but he doesn't get it until he understands that they are referring to him.

(I'm a creepy old guy!!)

And when he gets it, he's really surprised and he's like:

Oh, my God... I'M THE CREEPY OLD GUY!

Then we have this part:

(I am older, but I'm glad I waited)

I would have loved to know what he meant in that part, until I remembered it... Beetlejuice is referring to the part where he stayed at the Deetz-Maitlands' house to make them victims of his wrath. But just before he can lash out at anyone, she appears... as if he was waiting for her... (Like a real wedding!!)

Now, I want to mention something... Beetlejuice's reactions are the whole song, they show him very moved... He truly believes that they love him.

And an honorable mention to Barbara for this reaction:

(He's like:)

Oh, my God... See?? She loves me! She loves meeee!!!!

Yes dear, whatever you say... 🙂😐

For obvious reasons, Charles would never agree to something like this, but he trusts his daughter and the plan... But still, he lets his true feelings be seen through a single sentence:

"Have you guys seen "Lolita"?"

"This is just like that, but fine"

For some who don't know, Lolita was a novel that became a movie. It is the story of a mentally ill man named Humbert who ruins his entire life by becoming obsessed with an underage girl named Dolores.

I have a slight suspicion that Charles wants to see Beetlejuice ruined in the same way that Humbert does.

Then we have this part:

"I know that on the outside he's disgusting"

"And even on the inside, he's disgusting"

"But I know that this time, I'm makin' it right"

Under Beetlejuice's eyes, this doesn't sound bad... It even sounds hopeful, meaning that even if he's unpleasant, she wants to get off to a good start with him.

After a while, we can finally hear him:

"I found me a wife"

"L'chaim to life"

"This is so normal!"

"I was ignored"

"But now, I'm adored!"

"'Cause I extorted, tortured, and lied"

"Give it up for my underage bride!"

This is a very sad thing... Beetlejuice has never been the object of love and affection, That's why he thinks the whole song is proof enough that they love him... And what breaks my heart is knowing that Beetlejuice said he would give all that for his wife... It also breaks my heart to know that Beetlejuice gave up all his trust with so little acceptance from everyone in the house...

He's genuinely enraptured by the way everyone in the house is treating him... It's not hate, it's not disgust, it's not anger. Everyone is being kind, generous, understanding and supportive and that touches him...

Everything is so perfect for him

Too perfect actually...

When Beetlejuice is brought to life, it is saturated with many MANY sensations, feelings, and sounds.

I personally believe that if Lydia had tried to calm him down instead of murdering him, he really wouldn't have killed anyone. And I like to think that from there, only she could reassure him and thus, he would be like a little puppy looking for the affection of his owner...

I think that, to calm him down, it would be enough just to touch him... Let us remember that he has been deprived of genuine contact and affection, so a single touch of her fingers and a few words would be enough to make him desist from any act of violence.

But, he was killed for not being able to control something he never had...

Which reminds me of this phrase:

"It's good to trust someone, but not trusting anyone is better"

Well, to finish, Beetlejuice was really deceived by Lydia, due to the conditions of both of them... The two of them were lonely and abandoned, so Beetlejuice was willing to believe Lydia whenever she approached him with "good intentions". Beetlejuice's appreciation for Lydia blinded him and he was hurt three times in a row in the same night for believing her.

That's all for now!

Thanks for reading my soliloquy! Bye!! 😘💕💖

[pillowspace]

I just randomly was scrolling through my feed and saw something about you being a songwriter?

If this is true, do you have advice for writing original songs?

Thank you and have a good day

-Q

I've been songwriting since I was 2 years old, so I'll try my best to explain, but I've never put it into words before. Nor do I know if this is good advice, but!! This is how I do it

An app I use for songwriting is Lyric Notepad, but if you just want to use a website for finding rhyming words, that can work too. So: if you don't know what you want the next line to be and you're stuck, it's good to check what would rhyme with the previous line. I've found that just seeing these stray words can give me ideas for what the entire section could be

Don't force it if you're not in the mood! I've had to scrap entire songs because I pushed myself past a limit, and the quality significantly suffered for it. Only songwrite if you think you can

If you come up with a stray tune or line that you think sounds good but you don't know how to progress past it, record it or write it down somewhere and just leave it for later. Then when you're next writing a song and you don't know how to progress, you can add in that tune/line if it's fitting to the song you're writing. Like a... recycle bin

Sometimes I stop singing the lines to myself while writing, and pretty much just start writing flat poetry that doesn't actually have a flow of any sort. Um. Avoid that. Make sure there's an actual tune to what you're doing <//3

I've found that my best songs come from me recording myself humming random notes rather than just diving straight into the words. If I think something I hummed sounded very good, I then write down a bunch of placeholder words for the tune (it can be literal nonsense, just whatever makes you remember the syllable count.) After that, I go over it with actual lyrics. I only sometimes do this method, but it usually goes well

If you songwrite a lot, you'll start to pick up on what phrases and words you like, making things easier and easier. There's no shame in taking a little bit of inspiration from your surroundings. For example, I seem to often write the words "debris," "rotten," etc.

You can set a theme for yourself at the start of a song! My most recently written song had the theme of "ballroom yandere," my song before that was "touch-starved vampire," uhhh a song of mine that I love but haven't ever posted was "someone meeting a faery who tries to learn how to love the singer." You can get fun with it. Don't worry if you stray away from the theme, my "person who's distraught by their enemy apologizing to them" song quickly turned into "enemies who care about each other somber in the aftermath of a battle"

You can study how the lyrics of other songs are structured. Like verses, chorus, etc. You don't have to follow this too closely though if you don't want to

Uhhh!! I'm not sure if I have anything else to say

[theowlreblogs]

Odd OC asks for Seth/ Valak! 🌽🍉🍪

(QUILL!! Thanks for the ask 😭 You made my week)

Context for these OCs: Valak and Seth are childhood friends with soft feelings for each other. They are separated now + Seth thinks that Valak's dead. Valak lost an eye and got his long hair cut after losing a fight. He's in our dimension now, which is... very different of what he's used (He's suffering) Let's go, let's go -rubs hands like a fly-

🌽How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

Seth: He is that kind of guy who is a flirt but serious acts of affection which means truly something-- He will do them very rarely. As an extrovert he likes casually touching everybody so you have to be able to read through him to see when it means more.

When he truly cares/loves you he would compose (nice) songs about you, will serve alcohol in your cup with a soft smile, would touch you more carefully but with more intensity. He would need to have you close. His favorite act of affection is singing nice things about you (Which is a surprise, this bard likes to sing vulgar stuff way too much) That and hugging you with his whole body, all wrapped around you. He also likes licking the faces of his loved ones.

(^That's Damian, a half-demon kid Valak is very fond of) Valak: In the other hand, Valak is much simpler. If he likes you just enough he would become a very sticky demon. He likes touching the people he likes and he thinks it's natural just staying close (sometimes sitting a bit too close, for example) to anybody he feels comfortable with. Bumping softly his forehead with yours, cuddling you, nuzzling your hair, biting you a bit, wrapping his tail around you, doing your make up or hair, feeding the best pieces of meat to you, gifting little tokens, purring when you are near. He doesn't voice his soft feelings, but rather let them be seen with actions.

His favorite act of affection is helping without being asked. He'd decide in what you need that help (lol) 🍉 Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

Valak: He likes to wear a blue crystal his mother gave to him when he was a kid. He never takes it off. When he was exiled and ended up in an unknown place he was ready to pawn every jewelry and gem he had… but that one. Seth: He always wears gold rings on the base of his horns. It was the prize he choose after killing a demon lord who kept trying to cross a line with him. Seth was very proud of winning that fight (His first kill) plus he thinks these rings suits him very well. (Some people started to respect him a bit more after that, which only made him even more proud)

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC? Valak: His black spotted pelt… Nowadays he barely wears it in his everyday, slighty afraid that it could lose the scent of the demon who gifted it to him (Seth). It makes him remember a flowery scented summer. When he's feeling especially emotional he would sleep with it wrapped around him. Valak and Seth used to nap together a lot, so… (It's better if you never ever touch that pelt or you may make him angry for real. It's *his* and only his)

Seth: Peaches. Peach blossoms. He never liked when other demons made him feel too soft, but when Valak compared him to a peach flower… it made him feel as if being delicate wasn't that bad after all (At least not with the right person)

The sweet smell of peaches always brings a bittersweet feeling into his chest.

~ Le finish! I hope that was interesting to read! Sorry for my awkward English (Just as note: I wanted to add one or two doodles to illustrate my replies and then I got carried away. I don't have regrets 'tho (?) )

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/perfectlypanda/659481021941710848/zutara-and-the-unimportance-of-canonicity

what do you think about it?

The points I agree with

1 - A ship being canon or not does not tell us anything about the quality of said ship.

2 - Zutara fans need to chill with craving canon validation.

3 - The spin-off works like the comics and The Legend Of Korra often contradict the canon of the original show, and thus people need to either take only one as canon and ignore the other, or have "double-thinking" to take both as true. Honestly, even just within the original show there are canon inconsistencies: We are told in Book 2, by Iroh himself, that he got the nickname "Dragon of The West" by breathing fire on his enemies like a dragon, but in Book 3 we get ANOTHER explanation for that name, that it is a title given to someone that killed an actual dragon.

4 - Bryke can be real dicks sometimes. Saying "you like this ship, therefore you're doomed to always have bad relationships" is just pure nonsense, because even with stuff that actually IS deeply problematic, what really tells if a person's idea of how romance works is deeply unhealthy is not their enjoyment of the fictional relationship, but rather if they can tell what would or would not be okay okay in real life. I LOVE Beauty & The Beast, this does not mean I think people should marry someone that held them as prisoners. Azula is my favorite character and I would like her to have a redemption arc (and for the comics to stop claiming that being mentally ill means you're evil and any abuse you suffer is justified because you're "crazy and unstable" even when you're not doing anything) - this does not mean I think she never did anything wrong and am "part of a cult" like Bryke said.

The point I slightly disagree with

"There is no canon confirmation that Aang and Katara kissed for the first time in Cave Of Two Lovers" that one is partially true - we did not see the kiss, and the characters did not mention it at other points in the story... but COME ON, if they didn't kiss, why were Aang and Katara blushing at the end of the episode, when hearing the song about Oma and Shu? Sure, it's not explicit confirmation, but it is the show VERY STRONGLY hinting that the kiss absolutely happened.

The point I REALLY disagree with

"Zutara would have objectively been a stronger narrative choice" No. Just no. Not only do I feel it would not have been a better choice than Kataang and Maiko, I say it would be a TERRIBLE writting choice.

I could end this post with a "we'll just have to agree to disagree", but unfortunatelly I can't, because this person did not say "In my opinion, Zutara would be the superior choice, here's a link to my thoughts on why that is" They said "OBJECTIVELY Zutara would be the superior choice, here's the list of 'proof' I got."

And that's the thing I cannot stand with Zutarians. Even when they're making a solid point (in this case "This fandom gotta chill with using canon to dunk on other people's personal preferences, or demanding their headcanons to be elevated to canon so they can dunk on other people's headcanons") they HAVE to ruin it by going "But Zutara is totally the best and if you disagree with me, you are just completely incorrect" without a shred of irony or self awareness.

This really is their equally terrible alternative to "It is totally canon, people just think otherwise because of an evil conspiracy Bryke was in charge of." Instead of saying that, they go with hidden entitlement "Canon does not equal good... but Zutara SHOULD have been canon because it is scientifically proven, by me, that it is the best ship ever"

People have every right to disagree with me when I say Zuko and Katara would never work as couple, or ever be into each other in the first place. They can write all the meta about it too. But they do not have the right to try to force me to change my mind - be it explicitly or trying to be sneaky about it.

[firefly-sky]

For the ask game: Butters! I can't decide on which questions so... all of them! (Or how ever many you feel like answering.)

oh this should be fun-

My first interpretation of them

Honestly I just felt bad for him. I basically knew him as the kid who got grounded all the time and he seemed sweet enough, he was actually one of my faves from the beginning haha

2. When I think I started to truly like him

Honestly the Fun With Veal episode. And in the Butters’ Bottom Bitch episode where he just kept going ‘do you know what I am saying?’ I just thought it was funny lol

3. A song that reminds me of them

(Kinda a joint one) but You and Me (But Mostly Me) from Book of Mormon is SO Butters and Cartman. Also The Weight of Us by Sanders Bohlke.

4. How many people I ship them with

I don’t really do ships lol, I liked him and Charlotte tho, they seemed cute.

5. My favorite ship of them

Probably him and Charlotte

6. My least favorite ship of them

Him and Cartman. Absolutely him and Cartman.

7. A quote of them I remember

“I’d rather be a crying little pussy than a faggy goth kid anyway.”

8, My favorite outfit on them

Professor Chaos or his Stick of Truth costume

9. My least favorite outfit on them

The bear suit Paris Hilton made him wear in Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset. I felt awful for him

10. Describe the character in one sentence

Sunshine boy with horrible family members

11. What’s the first thing I think fo when I think of this character?

His accent. I dunno, I just have a knack for remembering stuff like that lol-I could honestly just listen to his voice all day, it’s soothing for me

12. Sexuality hdc!

I’m torn between him being pan and being straight lol, but I do think he’s on the ace spectrum.

13. My favorite friendship they have

Him and Kenny. Definitely

14. Best storyline they had

Butters’ Very Own Episode. I felt bad for him but it’s one of my favorite episodes

15. Worst storyline they had

Probably in the earlier seasons when he was just used as Kenny’s counterpart for the shows punching bag. Idk, it just felt like he didn’t really have any character or personality back then

16. A childhood headcanon

He lived on a farm for a little bit when he was a baby. They moved from Hawaii to say Oklahoma, then to South Park when he was three. Hence the accent. He also had a pet chick up until he was 7 or so named Toast. His parents made him give the chick away tho

17. What do you think their first word was?

Probably just mama or something. I do have a headcanon he still calls his mom (or his unofficial mother figure) mama sometimes.

18. How do I think he was as a kid?

He was probably really hyper. He subdued when he got older tho because his parents kept grounding him for accidentally breaking stuff when he would run around

19. The most random ship I’ve seen with this character

Butters x Craig. Like ???? They never interacted in the show lol-

20. A weird headcanon

Butters has a huge sweet tooth and if there’s candy or sweets in his vicinity he’ll devour it in an instant and likely suffer from a bellyache later

21. When do I think they were at his happiest?

Probably when he moved out and went to college tbh. He was just happy to get away from his toxic ass family. Or when his grandma finally dies.

22. When do I think he was at his lowest?

I do headcanon that when he’s in middle school he finally snaps. He becomes angry and kinda becomes a bully because he doesn’t feel like he has anyone who cares about him, it’s probably only for a few days at most but he just snaps at everyone, makes fun of everything everyone does, but after a few days Kenny (and maybe Cartman or Kyle) kinda confronts him and he ends up apologizing and trying to find someone to talk to.

23. Future headcanon

I wanna imagine that he lives on a farm, he has a bunch of chickens and goats (his favs) and some cows, pigs, even ducks. He gets a pet dog (a Border Collie) named Waffles. He kinda owns a petting zoo of sorts where younger kids just stop by and he educated them about animals and stuff. He also owns a bakery. He names it ‘Buttery Bliss’ or something

24. What do you think i’d a secret they’ve never told anyone?

Probably the thing with his sphincter and how he has to wear diapers in school sometimes. He probably only told AWESOM-O because he thought it was just a robot. But after that he didn’t tell anyone because he would definitely get made fun of :(

25. When do I think he’s acted the most ooc

Probably in The Worldwide Privacy Tour. Kyle even said ‘this is really out of character for you, Butters.’ so probably that lol, or in Going Native. I mean he literally wanted to kill a bunch of innocent people

26. When do I think they were being “themselves” the most?

Honestly? Probably when he was singing the Loo Loo Loo song, it kinda just showed his cuter side. Or in Cartman Sucks when his parents sent him to the Pray teh Gay Away camp because he was just so oblivious to where he was but still stood up for himself and his friends in the end

27. If they could meet a certain character from a different show/movie/book, who would be the most fun for them to meet?

Hello kitty. This kid would be in HEAVEN if Hello kitty was real. Either Hello kitty or Tails the Fox. Him and Tails are pretty similar. Plus fluffy fox meets sunshine boy, they’d get along-or just him in the pokémon world. Yes.

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

Probably when he was trying to get the Hawaiian tourists killed in war

29. How do I think they’d be as a parent?

Honestly? He spoils the shit out of his kids. He’s a huge pushover, but not to the point where his kids become spoiled brats. He probably exposes them to animals early so he could get them to know what’s good and what isn’t when on the farm. He supports his children, but he’s probably a very sheltering parent if that makes sense. Has no idea what he’s doing at first but eventually gets the hang of it. He loves playing make believe with them, would totally play dress up and such.

30. The funniest scene they ever had?

When he’s Professor Chaos and trying to be all menacing and Dougie has to keep telling him the Simpsons already did his idea and he’s just like ‘aw hamburgers :(‘

Hope this is good!