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jordanmoreau · 5 months

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I have you / Dean Winchester

→ dean winchester x reader, 1,4k words / fem reader

; in which certain feelings are made known, tongue tied and flushed cheeks♡

You watch absentmindedly from across the diner as Dean leans casually against the counter, a grin plastered across his face as he chats to the female server.

His T-shirt rides up ever so slightly as he leans forward and you cough awkwardly, shifting in your seat to face away fro him, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands as if to climb further inside it. Sam, who’s sitting opposite you with his nose buried in his notes, peers up to gives you a knowing look.

“He’s just being Dean,” he says calmly, nodding his head in his brothers direction. You freeze for a second, feeling caught. Sam doesn’t take his eyes off you for a prolonged second, wondering if he should reassure you some more but decides against it. He can tell you feel uncomfortable and so he moves his gaze from you.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate Sam’s attempt at comforting you. He had noticed your affections for Dean a while ago, watching the way you’d lean into him for comfort on every case or how you’d laugh at every stupid corny joke. You swallow, shaking your head slightly. It didn’t do you any good to keep pining after him.

It’s then that Dean returns to the table, a tiny piece of paper gripped in his hand. Your stomach does a painful flip when you notice it. The servers number? You look away again, focusing on the parking lot outside. Dean however takes notice of this, sliding into the seat next to Sam. Sam didn’t bother looking up at his brother and simply slid over a handful of pages, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

Dean instead turned his attention to you, mirroring you as he tries to figure out what you’re so intently looking at.

“What’re we looking at?” he says, startling you. He’s leant across the table, propped up by his elbows as he looks toward the parking lot and then back at you. He gives you a closed lipped smile when you don’t say anything.

“Y/N?” he murmurs softly. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne. It overwhelms you a little and you sit back in your chair. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he too sits back.

“Just thinking,” you reassure quietly, giving him your best “I'm okay” expression. It feels like a grimace. He searches your face for a moment and then nods, apparently accepting your words at face value.

—

The next evening, you find yourselves holed up in a motel, two rooms between three of you. You try not to look too alarmed at this at the front desk, the bags slung over your shoulders suddenly feeling like dead weights.

“Sam, can I bunk with you,” you ask instantly as you’re leaving the reception kiosk, hoping he can detect the pleading in your voice. Dean frowns at you, scratching his cheek with the back of his hand. Sam begins to agree when his brother interjects, stepping closer to you.

“What about me?” he pouts. Your heart pangs and you try to appear nonchalant, shrugging. He frowns again and Sam, who’s trailing behind you both, chucks the second set of keys at him. "Here,".

Dean catches it with his spare hand and mutters something you don't quite catch. Sam hums in agreement.

You decide to walk in front of the pair, needing to get in bed as soon as possible. Your whole body felt heavy and your feet dragged as you made your way down the hallway.

Dean follows you closely. It’s then that you recognize the right door number and plop your bags down on the door mat finally, groaning as your shoulder twinges.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his hand coming up to rest on your arm gently. You flinch for a second, not realising he was that close behind.

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your arm felt hot under his touch. He rounds you now, standing opposite you at the doorway. He’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, lips pursed.

“Are you?” you ask him awkwardly. His stoic exterior breaks at that and he blinks at you, almost like he’s offended at the question.

“Am I okay?” he scoffs. He doesn’t answer you, unlocking the door instead. With ease, Dean pushes it open and gestures inside. You now blink back at him, not moving. "Ladies first," he deadpans.

“I’m sharing with Sam,” you say lamely. Dean ignores you, hiking your bags over his shoulder and entering the room. You glance back over your shoulder and see Sam entering the room on the far left. He turns back to close the door and shoots you an apologetic look. Traitor, you think.

You sigh, admitting defeat and walking inside the room, closing the door behind you. It’s nothing special, dank and small. Two beds are pushed against the far wall, sad beige comforters draped over cream white sheets. Dean is sat on the furthest one from you, jacket now discarded and hanging over the bathroom door. He's wearing a greyish blue shirt underneath, the short sleeves hugging his biceps tightly. It's your favorite on him. You shift from one foot to another, not knowing where to place your hands.

He’s placed your bags at the foot of your bed. You stand in the entrance for a moment too long and Dean notices. He always does.

“Are you going to sit down or am I gonna have to put you to bed myself?” he asks. You flush slightly, cheeks pink and move hurriedly towards your stuff, muttering a quick sorry as you do. Dean huffs loudly.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks exasperatedly. His upper body is turned toward you. You don’t miss the note of worry in his tone and you feel guilty.

Usually you’d play along with playful banter or his flirty comments and he wasn’t used to your solemn expressions and your sad eyes. It made his heart twist in a way he wasn't used to. It was painful and he didn't like it.

“I’m just…”you struggle for the right words to say, feeling tongue tied. Admitting your feelings for him was just out of the question. God you wished Sam had roomed with you like you’d asked.

Dean waits patiently and when you don’t finish your sentence, he pushes himself off the bed. You’re perched on the end of the bed now and he crouches so that he’s almost eye level with you.

“Is it something I said, or did?” he questions you. Again, you feel guilty. You shake your head quickly, lips pressed together in a tight line. He makes a “hm” sound that sounds pained and you break.

“I’m just not feeling my best,” you lie, trying your best to meet his gaze as he listens. “It’s not you,”

Dean doesn’t respond for a moment and you think perhaps he’s bought what you’ve said. However he scoffs again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

His tone is somewhat harsher than you think he means but his face is soft, lips slightly parted as he silently pleads with you. You fidget, not sure how to answer him. “You know I care about you,” he whispers. He’s closer then you had realized. So close that you swear he must hear your heartbeat quicken.

“Did you call that girl?” you ask weakly, taking a sharp intake of breath as you spoke. Dean stares at you blankly for a moment.

“Girl?” he says, bewildered. You nod slowly.

“The girl from the diner,” you say, eyes trained at the tv stand just past Dean’s head in your line of sight. You fidget again.

“Why would I call her? I have you,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at that, it sounding shrill and foreign given the mood. It echos against the silence of the room. It seemed just like Dean to lighten the mood by giving you some line, something to cheer you up. But when you finally look back at him his face is serious. There’s no sign of amusement.

“She gave you her number though, right?” your voice is barely audible. He hears you though and a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He half rolls his eyes, clearly bemused.

“And that means I have to call her?” You look at him. So he wasn’t interested in her after all. Maybe Sam was right, he was just being Dean.

He cups your cheeks lightly with his callused hands all of a sudden and you feel like all the air leaves you. “I have you,” he repeats. You feel dizzy.

“Don’t I?” he asks softly. He searches your face as if worried you don’t agree. You notice the way his shoulders have tensed.

“Yes,” you breath. His shoulders relax and he flashes you the most Dean smile imaginable.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #sam winchester #supernatural au #supernatural x reader #dean winchester au #supernatural imagine #imagines #dean winchester imagine #jensen ackles

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heexseung · 10 months

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꒰ 💋 ꒱ ┄ ❛ dark academia ；sanguine ❜

* pairing: vampire!heeseung x afab!reader

* tags: smut, mentions of blood, dom/sub dynamics, mild degradation (m. receiving), cunnilingus, handjob (mutual), edging (m. receiving), praise (m. receiving), piv sex, exhibitionism, heeseung's a brat

* summary: heeseung, your lab partner for alchemy, is acting strange over a blood-red potion you both accidentally brew in the evening.

* word count: 6k

* a/n: here you go darlings, hope you enjoy ❤️‍🔥 please have a lovely day !! and if there are any mistakes, please don't hesitate to let me know and i'll fix it <33

The blood-red liquid in the flask stares at you in an almost menacing way and you squint at it in return, wondering what the hell did you do wrong this time. Did you boil it too long? Or maybe you used the wrong ingredients?

No, that’s not possible, you triple checked all the ingredients and the amount before using it. Perhaps you missed a step? Giving out a frustrated sigh, you push your hair back with your hand.

You turn to look at your lab partner, maybe he knows what’s going on but as soon as you do, your breath briefly catches in your throat. Heeseung’s staring at the flask that’s in your hand in a really weird manner.

As the seconds roll by, you watch as his brown doe eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating, his stare becoming more and more intense. He even licks his lips and takes an audible gulp. It’s as if the potion has him entranced just by existing.

“Heeseung.”

Your voice doesn’t catch his attention so you opt to snap your fingers right in front of his face. In response, he blinks once, then twice, then shakes his head and turns towards you. Giving you a sheepish smile, he apologises for zoning out.

Despite saying so, his eyes go back to staring at the flask in the same weird manner again after you put it down on the flask rack. It makes you feel confused, what is this potion?

Wanting to find some answers, you start searching through your alchemy textbook. Too occupied to pay attention to your surroundings, you don’t notice what Heeseung’s doing until it’s too late. When you do notice, he’s already got his hand on the flask and is now drinking the potion.

“Heeseung, wait, no!”

Quickly grabbing the flask away from him, you start nagging at him, “Are you crazy? What’s wrong with you? You can’t just be drinking any potion that you see, we don’t even know what this is!”

But his eyes are spaced out and you’re pretty sure that he’s a goner, not even here anymore. A drop of red liquid trails down from the corner of his mouth to his chin and he doesn’t even bother to wipe it away. He just keeps on staring at the damn flask in your hand.

Because of the way he’s acting, you’re prompted to throw the whole potion inside the sink in front of you. You hear him whine as the last drop of potion disappears into the drain.

“Goddamn, I know you’re a vampire and all but come on, don’t you have any self-control? When was the last time you feed?”

As soon as you’re done dumping the contents of the flask, you give it a shake, making sure there’s nothing left of the potion. Immediately after, you feel his body slump against you, his head buried in your neck.

Surprised at his sudden action, you take a step back in response, trying to balance yourself and him. Then, gently placing the flask down on the table, you rest your hand on his head while your other hand rests on his shoulder.

You both stay like that for a while, him not doing anything except breathing heavily in your neck and you just wondering why what the hell is going on.

Then, all of a sudden, you feel lightheaded; your heart starts beating faster and there are suddenly butterflies in your stomach. Your knees start getting weak and you have to rest your hand on the table to steady yourself. It’s also getting harder to get your eyes and brain to focus on the situation in front of you.

And then he does something; he licks the side of your neck. That’s when it hits you and you kind of realise what he’s trying to do.

“Are you trying to feed on me?”

Although he doesn’t answer you verbally, his actions tell you his answer loud and clear. As soon as you feel his fangs graze against your neck, you tightly grip his hair and roughly pull his head backwards. That earns you a sharp hiss.

In his dizzied state, he somehow manages to choke out, “Please?”

Feeling sorry for him, you wonder how long he hasn’t been feeding for him to be this desperate. As he looks at you with lustful eyes, you ask him, “Do you want me to call Jay?”

You slowly let go of your grip and continue in a soft tone, “I don’t know what to do in situations like this…”

Heeseung just stares at you intensely and licks his lips in response, most likely focusing all his energy on keeping his seductive trance on you. Closing your eyes, you do your best to control yourself since it’s obvious that it’s up to you to control the situation right now and although it’s hard to resist him, you try.

That doesn’t mean you succeed though. Because the moment he starts whining in your ear, you move him so that he’s the one leaning on the table now. Your lips quickly attach themselves to his and despite his initial shock, he melts into you rather quickly.

Moaning into your mouth, he pulls you in closer to him — so close that your bodies are pressed up against each other. As he lets your tongue ravage his, your heart begins to beats faster and your head begins to get dizzy.

Practically feeling your self-control slipping, Heeseung can’t help but smirk to himself as you start trailing kisses on his neck. He lets out a soft moan when he feels you biting his neck — he can’t help it, vampires are more sensitive than everybody else.

His body rocks into yours and although he really likes what he’s feeling right now, he’s so terribly desperate for some blood and he can’t really keep up his seductive trance on you anymore since it’s draining too much of his energy. So he lets go of his grip on you, not physically though.

Slowly, your senses start coming back to you and you blink as your eyes adjust. Taking advantage of your still dizzy state, he whispers to you in a low tone, “Want to trade?”

Despite still being a bit dizzy, his words pique your curiosity. You hum at him, encouraging him to explain what he means.

“My body for your blood.”

Okay, now you’re really interested. Since you’re back to your normal state, you’re fully aware of what’s going on and fully in control of your actions now. Still, you can’t help but blink at him, a little dazedly, not sure if you heard him correctly or not — not sure if this is just a fragment of your imagination or not.

Does he really mean that he’ll have sex with you just for a bit of your blood? This situation seems absurd to you, especially when taken into consideration how you know that Heeseung doesn’t have sex with just anybody.

It’s obvious because you’ve never once heard anybody talking about how it was like having sex with Heeseung and you’re sure that if someone did have sex with him, they would brag about it to hell. And you can’t blame them because you’d do the same. What can you say? Heeseung’s a really hot vampire.

But maybe your mind is in the gutter and he doesn’t really mean sex — which is a more logical situation. Maybe he just means doing service related stuff like carrying your bag to class or buying you lunch?

Just as you are about to ask him to clarify what he means, he whispers in your ear with the same low tone he used before, “Whatever you want from me.”

“Whatever”… that means…

Yeah, it totally means sex. And just to be sure you got the right message, he looks at you in the eye and continues, “I know you want me. You wouldn’t have been all over me if you didn’t.”

“Now, hold up. I think I should remind you that you used your seductive trance on me.”

He smirks at that. “I mean, yeah but you still wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t want me. The trance doesn’t make you do stuff you don’t want to do, you know. It just makes you honest and impulsive… like a truth serum.”

You narrow your eyes on him, contemplating your choices. Truthfully, you’re not much of a fan of getting blood sucked right out of you.

Looking at you with a pleading look, he tries to coax you into agreeing with the trade, “Please? You can have my body. Hell, do whatever you want to me. Just give me a bit of your blood. I’m so thirsty right now, please?”

There are so many questions you’d like to ask him; why you? Why not just get Jay to get him a packet of animal blood? Will it hurt? How much is he going to take? What about the side effects?

As if he can sense your thoughts, he rests his hand on your waist and pulls you in closer, “Come on, please? I’ll be a really good boy for you.”

Sighing, you tell him seriously, “Hee baby, I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

But he’s already shutting you and your thoughts up with a kiss — one that turns heated really quickly. Since he obviously doesn’t know how intense you can be, you’re going to show it to him.

As your tongue goes to explore every inch of his mouth, he lets out a soft moan, not even bothering to fight for dominance. By the time you pull away from him and rest your forehead on his, one of your hands is already palming him through his pants while the other covers his mouth, forcing him to stay quiet.

He can’t help but whine as he slightly grinds into your hand, his breathing heavy and his eyes full of lust. His hands leave your waist — one goes to your wrist (the one that’s palming him), gripping it tightly while the other goes on the table behind him for support. You push your palm against him more and he whines again, throwing his head back.

Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whisper to him, “Are you really that desperate so much that you’re willing to whore yourself out just for some blood?”

Unable to deny, he can only nod and gasp in response, his grip on your wrist tightens.

“So desperate that you’re willing to be my slut, huh?”

You feel him shiver for a bit before he nods again. He stares at you with half-lidded eyes for a while until you finally get the memo that he wants to say something. Letting him speak, you move your hand that was on his mouth to play with the neckline of his t-shirt.

“But like, can we not do it here?”

You laugh at that. “Where then?”

“My room?”

How could you ever say no to this man? You give him a nod in agreement but something crosses your mind — you’re curious about one thing.

“What are you gonna do about this though?” He bites his lip as you say that, his ears turning a soft shade of red as you continue to press your hand against the bulge in his pants.

Quickly taking off his black jacket, you take a step back from him as he ties the arms around his waist. It doesn’t hide much but it’ll do. Besides, you don’t really care much about it. That’s more of a him problem.

“There, let’s go.” Grabbing your hand in his, he starts pulling you to the door but you, being a responsible university student, remind him, “Hee baby, I know you’re impatient but we gotta clean up first.”

He groans at that. Nevertheless, he doesn’t complain and quickly cleans everything up with you.

┄┄┄┄

The walk to his room is quick since it’s quite close to the lab. When you both get there, he asks you to wait outside for a moment. It’s not a big deal for you so you wait outside in the hallway while he does whatever he’s doing, maybe doing some last-minute cleaning.

By the time the door opens again — which isn’t long, a confused Jay steps out. He notices you standing there and you see a spark of realisation in his eyes, the confusion on his face disappears instantly.

“Hey, Jay.”

He smiles at you and just laughs in response, saying he’ll be back at 10 and to have fun. You watch as his silhouette disappears out of your view and by that time, Heeseung’s already pulling you into his room.

Once you’re inside, he traps you against the door, body pressing against yours, his hands on your hips and his thigh in between your legs. His lips immediately meet yours in a fierce and passionate kiss.

It doesn’t take him long before he pulls away from you and starts kissing down your neck. It feels good and you love neck kisses but you know what he’s trying to do.

Keeping your guard up, you run your hand through his hair and grind into his thigh. He starts licking the side of your neck and you don’t know how he’s so good at this, he almost makes you forget, almost makes you drop your guard down with every move of his tongue against your neck.

Fortunately for you, you feel it immediately; the feeling of his fangs against your skin. It prompts you to grip his hair and roughly pull it back. He whines in response. “Be patient. You don’t get a taste of me until you’ve earned it, understand?”

You let go of your grip on his hair as he hums, signalling his understanding of the situation.

“Now get on the bed.”

“What are you going to do if I say no?” He says as he gives you a teasing smile.

Oh? So he wants to be a bit of a brat now, huh?

Well, that’s perfectly fine with you, you’ll put him in his place. Grabbing his hips, you forcefully push and move him back. He stumbles a bit as you guide him to his bed — at least, you hope it’s his bed, it seems like it’s his bed.

Eventually, you push him and he falls into it. Wasting no time, you climb on top of him. Pinning his hands down on both sides of his head, you bring your lips near his ear and say to him, “If you’re gonna be a brat, Heeseung, just know that I make brats cry.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply to you because you’re already kissing him again, all hot and rough. It makes him hard to keep up with you and eventually he just lets you kiss him like that, your tongue once again exploring his mouth. Your hands push down on his and he laces them together, moaning a bit when he feels you push his hands harder against the sheets.

Pulling away from him, you press your leg against the budge in his pants and start trailing kisses down his neck. When he feels your tongue on his neck, he can’t help but throw his head back as he grinds into your leg. It makes you lose control, he makes you lose control. You just want to ruin him, hear his sweet voice beg for you.

“Fuck, we need a safe word because I want to ruin you so bad you don’t even know.”

It’s when you start biting he starts getting noisy. All his gasps and moans start coming out but he manages to choke out the first word that comes into his head, “Apple.”

“Our safe word is apple?”

Heeseung feels his heart beat faster at that, your words repeat in his head; our safe word is apple? God, he wants to do this again with you and he’s not even talking about sex since you two haven’t even gotten there yet. He just wants to be with you, spend time with you, make you happy, make you feel good. And although it’s obvious that Heeseung’s not the type to have sex just for fun but for you, he doesn’t care. He’d let you use his body any time… because it’s yours anyway, he thinks.

He doesn’t want to scare you off or ruin the moment though, so he keeps his question for another time and tells you, “Yeah.”

“Say it again,” you say as your hand lets go of his and starts palming him.

“A-apple,” he stutters, his head starting to get hazy.

“Good boy.”

He practically melts at your praise. It looks like you just found out one of his kinks. Your mind is already starting to think of ways to use that to your advantage because one thing’s for sure; you’re gonna make him beg. You’re not sure if that’s gonna be easy or hard but that’s what makes it fun.

Sitting up, you straddle him. Your hands move to unbutton his pants but just as you’re about to free his dick, you hear a phone ring. A bit annoyed, you look in the direction where the sound is coming from.

“Undress. By the time I come back, I want you naked,” you say to him as you make your way towards the phone.

He doesn’t even tell you that it’s his phone and not yours, he doesn’t really care either way. Besides, he’s curious about what you’re going to say.

You find the phone on his desk, amongst other stuff including books, pencils and even empty blood bags that you pay no attention to. You put the phone at your ear as soon as you accept the call, not even looking at the caller ID.

The sound of a feminine voice whining captures your attention, “Heeseung baby, finally you picked up my calls! Where are you?”

Feeling a bit weirded out, you look at the phone. You give a quiet chuckle when you realise that Heeseung didn’t even save this person’s number. You’re about to look back at Heeseung until you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his naked body.

He feels so good like this — his built chest pressing against your back, his head in your neck, you feel his hard-on against your back too. He’s being a brat again because one of his hands is starting to grope your breasts underneath your shirt while the other starts making its way to your cunt.

“Who is it?” He whispers to you as he plays with your boob, kneading it in his hand. His other hand is already underneath your underwear and he’s rubbing circles against your wet cunt. He’s so good at this too and you let him continue while you return your attention to the person on the other side of the call.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” You ask, not even hiding your heavy breathing.

The person seems outraged, given by their tone of voice when they reply, “Who the fuck are you and why are you answering Heeseung’s phone?”

It makes you want to laugh but before you’re able to do that, Heeseung inserts a finger inside you and starts kissing your neck. His grip on your breast tightens as he pinches your nipple, all the while thrusting his finger as deep as it can go inside you.

You don’t even bother to hide your moan, telling him to keep going, “Yeah, just like that Hee baby. God, you’re doing so good, you feel so good.”

Feeling his dick twitch against your back from the praise that you gave him, he continues his actions with more intensity. You’re sure that he can hear the other person on the line and you’re not sure what their relationship is but you don’t care because right now, Heeseung is yours and you’re gonna make this person know that.

Meanwhile, this person is more than outraged, even more so when you tell her, “Sorry babe, Heeseung’s mine,” and hang up the call. When you finally put down the phone, Heeseung starts speaking.

“Sorry about that, I don’t know her, she’s been stalking me like crazy. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he says in his usual soft tone, worried that you might get the wrong idea.

But you really couldn’t care less. You grab his hands and reluctantly pull them off you. Then, you spin around so that you’re now facing him. He quickly breaks eye contact with you, knowing that he’s gonna get it now for being a brat… and yet he can’t contain the thrill and excitement in him. It makes him smile teasingly at you despite not being able to look you in the eye.

Grabbing his face in your hand, you make him look at you. His breath catches in his throat when he sees the intensity in your eyes. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him in closer to you. He thought you were going to kiss him but instead you only pull his head closer because you wanted to whisper something in his ear, “Is there any way that I could mark you?”

He bites his lip at that. The thought of you marking him turns him on more than he’d like to admit. He’d love for you to be able to leave marks on his skin and he’d definitely show it off, he doesn’t care who sees, he wants everyone to know that only you can mark him, that he belongs to somebody and that somebody just happens to be you. But alas, there’s not really any way to mark a vampire if you’re human.

“I… I don’t think so,” he tells you softly after thinking about it, “My skin would heal way too quickly.”

Just to be sure, you try it out. Your lips attach themselves to his neck and as you bite hard on it, a loud gasp falls out of his mouth. He doesn’t complain though and albeit you know that you probably shouldn’t take advantage of that, you still do.

So you bite him again, this time, sucking hard on his skin right after. He holds onto you as you do that to keep himself steady, trembling a bit. When you’re done, you pull away to look at it.

Unfortunately, he’s telling the truth. You watch as the bruise you left quickly heals itself, turning a shade of red back to the colour of his skin. In your opinion, it healed itself way too quickly for a vampire who hasn’t fed in like a week… but then again, you’re not a vampire so what do you know?

He notices you pouting and suddenly remembers something, “Um… but there is… scent?”

“Scent?”

“Yeah, scent. Um, a human probably won’t notice it but others would.

That’s true though. Despite being full human, you already know that everyone else’s sense of smell is very sensitive, so sensitive that they can probably smell you on him from miles away. Okay, that’s obviously an exaggeration but yeah, that works… you guess.

“How long does it last?”

“A couple of days, I guess.”

“Is there really no other way?”

“Not unless you’re a vampire too,” he bares his fangs at you with a smile right after he says that.

Hm, fair enough. Deciding to let it go, you tell him to get on the bed as you start taking your clothes off. Surprisingly, he obeys and does so rather quickly with no teasing comments whatsoever. So he can be obedient, you think to yourself. That means he’ll beg.

He sits down at the edge of the bed and watches you strip down. You don’t have to look at him to know that his eyes are hungry, just taking in every single inch of your bare skin. Pulling down your soaked underwear, you finally make your way towards him.

You know he wants you on top of him. That’s obvious, he’s ready to pull you down onto the bed with him but you have other plans. As soon as you’re standing in front of him, his hands go out to touch your waist but you swat them away.

As he looks up at you in desperation, you grip his hair, throw one leg over his shoulder and pull him into your cunt. Like an obedient puppy, he immediately parts his lips and starts eating you out — licking into you, sucking on your clit, lapping at your juices. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of his tongue on your cunt.

It takes him a while to figure out what you like but he eventually gets there. Your grip on his hair tightens and you start panting when he starts tongue-fucking you.

The feel of his hot tongue inside you just drives you insane. It makes you grind against his face. When he pulls his tongue out to swirl it in circles around your cunt, you’re unable to stop yourself from inserting two of your fingers inside you.

The thrusting of your fingers combined with the sensation of his tongue on you drives you to the edge. There’s a knot in your stomach and you can feel your climax approaching.

Heeseung feels it too and he intensifies his actions to help you get there. You pull his face into your cunt and he moans, the vibrations sending you to a frenzy so much that you start rambling, “Damn, you’re so good at this. Keep going, baby. I’m so close. You’re doing so good, you feel so fucking good, my god.”

With three fingers inside you and a final thrust, along with Heeseung sucking your clit, you let out a loud moan when you finally reach your climax.

Your legs start to weaken and for a moment, you’re worried that you might fall but he has you, keeping you steady with his hands on your waist and thigh. He keeps on eating you out as you ride the waves of your orgasm, lapping up all the juices coming out of you.

When you finally get back to your senses, you notice the whole room smells like sex now and you know you have to apologise to Jay later. It seems the smell has intoxicated both you and Heeseung. You see his eyes start getting hazy, no doubt his mind is a bit dizzy too.

You push him down on the bed and press your body against his. Gripping his cock with one hand, you say in his ear, “I was going to punish you for being a brat.”

He moans and bucks into your hand as you start stroking it quickly, “But you’ve been good and you did well. So I guess I’m letting you off this time.”

He whines your name in your ear as you speed up the pace and you continue, “Do you think you’ve been a good boy?”

Throwing his head back and letting out a loud moan, he nods and says, “ Yes.”

You chuckle at that, you know he hasn’t been very good. Recalling that phone call scene earlier, you continue to pump him while your other hand starts playing with his nipples. “Really? I don’t think so though? Remember that phone call scene earlier?”

He drags out a moan, he can’t focus when you’re being like this to him. Deciding to tease him for a bit just like how he teased you earlier, you start leaving bruises on his neck with your mouth — at least, you attempt to.

And albeit your attempt will forever be just an attempt, it’s still fun to see him squirm under you. His every reaction is delicious, every moan, every hiss, the look on his face when your fingers play with his tip, the look on his face when you pinch his nipples, ugh, you just love it.

Eventually, he tells you he’s close and you increase your intensity and pace. Right at the last moment right before he’s about to cum, you stop touching him completely, pulling your hands away from him.

He whines your name loudly at the loss of your touch and his orgasm. Staring at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands beside each side of his head, he breathes heavily as he contemplates what to do.

But before he could do anything, you’re already sitting up. “You got a condom?”

He nods and replies, “Yeah, at the desk.”

“Good, because if you don’t, I would’ve edge you 5 times before I let you cum,” you say as you get off of him and make your way towards his desk.

Hiding the upper part of his face with his arm, he bites his swollen lip and tries to calm himself down because if he doesn’t calm down, he’s going to cum real fast. Being a vampire doesn’t help, nor you edging him because now he’s the most sensitive he’s ever been.

Breathe in, breathe out, he tells himself.

“Here you go.” You toss him the condom.

You watch him put it on as you tell him, “By the way, I threw away the empty blood bags, I don’t know why you didn’t throw them in the trash.”

“Ah, yeah, I forgot about them,” he sheepishly replies.

“Clean up after yourself, that’s been there for at least a couple of days, no?”

He looks at you in confusion, but before he can comment on it further, you’re back on top of him. You ask him if he’s ready and he grabs your hips and replies, “Wait, no, I’m so sensitive, give me a minute, please.”

Of course, you don’t listen to him. Instead, you continuously grind your cunt into his dick and relish in the reactions and sounds that he makes. He grinds into you too, his body rocking into yours as he arches his back from the pleasure.

Fuck, he’s not even inside you yet but he can already feel his orgasm coming. He’s so close and his jerky movements and constant moaning are proof of that.

Meanwhile, you, you’re soaking wet again. You want his dick inside you yet you vowed to yourself that you won’t put his dick inside you unless he begs for it. So you keep grinding against him.

Suddenly, you feel his hands grab your hips, you hear him say your name in an exasperated tone. “Please, I’m so close, please.”

It’s so fun watching him like this, all wrecked and desperate, desperate to be inside you, desperate to cum. You can’t help but tease him again, he’s just so cute like this. He brings out the sadist in you.

You don’t stop until his orgasm comes close again. For the second time this evening, you stop him from cumming, lifting yourself off of him right before he was about to cum.

“Shit.”

It’s the first time you hear him swear. Despite swearing, the tone of his voice is still soft like usual. He even manages to make swear words sound soft. It makes you want to hear him swear again but you’ve already been cruel to him enough for the day. You stare at him in slight awe as you let him compose himself for a minute.

When he gets back to his senses, he starts groaning. His hand covers the front of his face again. Just by looking at him, you know that you’ve already broken him so much that he’s just begging non-stop now.

He’s a mess under you as he begs you desperately, “Please don’t do this to me, please, please don’t do this to me, please-”

“Shh… okay, okay, I got you.”

“Please.”

You hum at him as you insert his dick inside you. Moaning at the feeling of him filling you up, you start moving. Your movements are rushed since you don’t want to torture him any longer. Heeseung doesn’t stop begging you, he just gets louder as time goes on, moaning in between pleas every time you thrust into him.

He doesn’t even have the energy to thrust into you anymore so you adjust yourself a bit so that he could hit your g-spot. A couple of thrusts later and the familiar feeling comes to you again, the knot in your stomach — you’re close.

“You’re close?” you ask him.

He nods his head in response, begging you to let him cum and to not edge him again. You kiss him and that shuts him up — well not really because he doesn’t stop moaning, but he does stop speaking.

As your tongue swirls with his, you pinch his nipples one last time and that’s enough to send him on the edge. He arches his back into you and gasps as he finally gets his release. You keep going, helping him ride the waves of his orgasm and soon, you’re cumming too.

Slowing down your movements, you eventually lay on top of him, panting in his ear. Heeseung’s arms wrap around you, he’s panting too and still has a dazed just-been-fucked look on his face.

Closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he says to you in a soft voice, “Thank you.”

It’s obvious that he’s spent and you’re glad you both had a good time. You run your hand through his hair and give him tons of praises, “No, no, thank you for being so good to me. You did so well, such a good boy for me, thank you so much. I’m sorry if I went too far.”

He laughs at that, the laugh you usually hear coming from him — rich and cheerful, like it could light up the whole world. You’ve heard it before, it’s hard to miss it since his laugh is melodic and catches your attention all the time… but you’ve never made him laugh, this is the first time.

Feeling a bit of warmth inside you, you smile at him as he whispers, “It was fun… I enjoyed it.”

Can we do it again later? It doesn’t have to be just this one time. He wants to say that to you but he’s scared that you’ll reject him, scared that he’ll blow his chances. So instead, he bites his lip and keeps his mouth shut.

Suddenly, you remember the deal you two had. “Oh yeah, you can have some of my blood now I guess.”

His laidback teasing personality begins to make its comeback as he smirks at you and says in a teasing tone, “Oh? But I’m full though.”

Looking at him in confusion, you reply, “But weren’t you desperate for some blood earlier? When was the last time you feed?”

“just a few minutes ago, when I got in my room.”

You look at him confusedly, as if looking at him would answer all the questions in your head and would explain everything that you’re not understanding. Sensing your confusion, he continues, “Jay got me some blood packets and I drank them before I let you in.”

Oh. “But the deal?”

Perking up at you, he can’t help his genuine smile when he tells you, “Next time then. I’ll call you when I’m hungry.”

Chuckling at that, you agree with him. After all, he did give you a good time. Plus, you’re not the kind of person to break off a deal when you’ve already had your fill.

You move to get off him but he won’t let you, wrapping his arms around you tighter and whining in your neck. “Stay with me… unless you got somewhere to be?”

“It’s getting dark.”

“I’ll walk you home.” A moment of silence passes by and he continues, “Please?”

How can you say no to this man? Especially when he’s giving you such a pleading look with his cute doe eyes. You nod at him and let him pull you back into him. Despite his built body, he feels really soft — just like his personality, and you relax into him as time goes by, enjoying the moment you have left with him before Jay comes back.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung #kpop smut #sub!enhypen #sub!idol #dom!reader #college au #vampire #supernatural au #sub!heeseung #sub enhypen #sub heeseung

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ratective · 6 months

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mandatory redraw of this in the month of halloween

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

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Ok vampire hunter!König is hot but how about vampire!Engel with vampire!König who seduced and turned her?

König is the meanest vampire there is.

He never lets his angel become an independent, strong creature of the night; instead, he keeps her in his tower and “teaches” her, telling her she must never venture out because the world is a dangerous place and mortals are more cunning than she can even imagine, and Engel, poor fresh young fledgling that she is, just looks up at him wide-eyed and lips drawn into a thin line and believes everything he says.

And so there’s really no one to tell her that König is shunned by all the other vampires: he has a reputation, he’s more feral than any of them and always keeps to himself, never comes to the balls or burdens himself with the need to charm anyone or even dress properly, he’s like a relic from the past when vampires had to scour their meal from wherever they could get it, filthy docks or poor cottages in the hills, bothering lowly peasants whose blood tastes like dung. König lives in a time of war even though there’s peace now, and plenty of good blood to feast on, he has even killed some of his own – Engel really doesn’t know the full depth of the trouble she’s in... She couldn’t have bumped into a more unfit, berserk, depraved sire.

He always picks her meal for her: always fragile, meek women, dragged to the tower screaming and pale and filled with fear and horror: and he doesn’t even let her feed alone because he likes to watch. No one tells her that this isn’t supposed to happen: that a lamia’s meal is a sacred ritual, it's between her and the sacrificial lamb, and it's also a moment when a vampire is at her most vulnerable... But no: König watches her like a mortal would watch pornography or an obscene play, and Engel thinks it’s perfectly normal, she just wants to please her master, as difficult and hard as it is to do so at times.

And sometimes she feels this odd yearning – she was such a cute, well-behaved mortal, she had her whole life ahead of her, she never did anything wrong, and she never asked to be turned... (yes Engel keep telling yourself that) She just wanted to talk to this mysterious highwayman who walked her home when she got lost in the woods, who gave her the most intense hand-kiss she had ever received and after that, left her a blood-red rose on her windowsill every night... And now she finds herself here, in this ungodly tower with a monster – a monster she hopelessly loves and adores.

Sometimes the need to feed grows too strong and she floats down the stairs, helpless and weak, only to be met with König’s imperious form as he opens the heavy oak door and immediately catches on to what’s going on. His heavenly angel was about to disobey him; clearly, she doesn’t yet understand the danger she’s in (in truth König is getting pale even at the thought of her finding some other mentor, were Engel to leave him he would crawl into his coffin and never come out again).

So into the coffin she goes, without breakfast, and has to stay there alone until he's sharpened his knives. Only when dawn is already about to break, only after the sturdy old pine box echoes with her pitiful little whimpers, König finally joins her, gathers Engel in his arms, asks her if she has learned her lesson now, hmm? She must understand that this is for her own good: he’s just ensuring that nothing bad happens to her. After all, she's his responsibility; it was fated that they met. She’s exactly where she belongs; she has nothing to fear.

Then he feeds her himself: another taboo and a perverse act of him, and even sicker than anyone could ever imagine because König pushes them both to their limits, getting lewd pleasure out of Engel drinking from him until he's near the point of going into rigor mortis, groaning that she needs to stop (secretly wishing she wouldn’t… Not just yet…)

And König never tells her that their kind is supposed to sleep in their own coffins for a variety of reasons. He allows her to sleep in his, never even gets her her own, getting sick satisfaction from the way she curls up and clings to him like a pathetic, helpless human.

The only things he gets her are stunning, gorgeously large white dresses: pompous and flowy and frilly and so heavy she can’t possibly even dream of escaping while wearing those. The only time there’s a slightly more benevolent look in those piercing cold blue eyes is when Engel laughs and spins around in them, fresh blood on her lips, eyes outshining all the night stars...

She’s truly the most innocent, beautiful creature he has ever seen. He almost feels… what was it that mortals called it?

Ah, yes. Love.

#yandere könig #supernatural au #vampire au #vampire!König #könig x reader #yandere vampire #tw: dark content

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deadsetobsessions · 1 month

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Supernatural AU of the Bats but it ends in like the first ten minutes of the first episode because Sam and Dean are Jason and Dick.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days,” Dick crossed his arms, rocking back on the soles of his feet and normal smile missing.

“Sucks for him,” Jason replied. “Fuck off, Dickie, I’m busy.”

And then Jason tosses Dick a drink and they’re like lmao dad can handle himself. Jason doesn’t have a girlfriend, he just has Roy, who’s also wearing the Smurf crop top thing. Bruce comes back to wherever the hell he’s been after stopping the whole war thing by himself (as if he’s gonna let angels or demons get near his kids, puh-fucking-lease.) and just goes “hey I brought back the colt. Jason, you can have it if you join us for dinner.”

And Jason’s like lol new gun me likey

#batman #supernatural #dcxsupernatural #dc #supernatural au #dick Grayson #Dick Grayson is dean winchester #listen he’d love traveling around #Jason Todd #Jason is Sam Winchester #look he wants education and stability #it just fits lol

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maya-keery · 7 months

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Supernatural steddie because I love succubus Steve and Eddie who's just hopelessly in love

Eddie Munson who moves away from his home town in Chicago to quiet little Hawkins, Indiana. It's not supposed to be permanent, just a temporary relocation. He just needs to get away for a bit. Why not spend the summer in a ghost town that seems to be stuck in the 80's? (Maybe he's a slow-to-fame musician who relocates to Hawkins for inspiration after hearing the rumors about the town.)

He tries not to be put off by how weird everyone is. Everyone just seems sort of...off. Especially his absurdly hot next-door neighbor, who seems to have a new partner every night and herds around a group of kids during the day.

Complete with witch Robin OR werewolf Robin, vampire Nancy, and the kids are probably all werewolves too.

(Side bar everyone who writes mini fics in my reblogs I love and adore you)

#stranger things #the fruity four #steve harrington #eddie x steve #steddie #eddie munson #steddie au #babygirl steve harrington #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #supernatural au

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httpsleclerc · 2 months

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under the monaco moonlight - vampire!au

pairing/s: Gasly!Reader x unnamed!bf, Vampire!Charles Leclerc x Gasly!Reader, Platonic!Pierre Gasly x Gasly!Sister!Reader, Platonic!Arthur Leclerc x Gasly!Reader

c/w: Implied smut, attempt of sexual assault, brief shitty descriptions of violence, bad ending??

w/c: 1.7k

summary: Charles Leclerc is in love with the forbidden fruit, or his best friends sister Y/N Gasly and can't control his instincts when she's in trouble.

a/n: no one asked for this but I might do a part two if anyones interested x

masterlist

Charles knew this was wrong.

You were his childhood best friends little sister, but he couldn't help himself from watching the way your hips swayed in time to the music which blared over the speakers, your mini skirt - Which he knew your brother would not be happy seeing you in - rising higher up your thighs as you moved. He knew that it was wrong to think of himself between your thighs, pleasuring you in ways which you'd never been before, satisfying you unlike how the boy you were grinding against would.

He needed you so bad it hurt.

If his heart were beating he was sure he'd feel it ache in desire for you.

He stood by Arthur, his eyes trained on you as his jaw clenched and he tightly gripped the glass he'd been nursing as he watched you, so tight that he would surely smash the glass into tiny pieces if he held it any harder. He feared if he pursued you any more than he had, then your heart would end up in the same way as the glass could, he feared he'd fall too in love with you and sink his teeth too far into your neck, leaving you helpless and bleeding. He'd never be able to explain himself to Pierre, how could be explain what he had done to his best friends precious baby sister? Your one night fling weeks ago had become a regular thing, despite you being adamant that you loved your boyfriend, but any time you and him had sex, all you could do was think about was Charles, how good he made you feel, how deliciously full you felt when he was inside you, the way that he left you stumbling the next day; scrambling for an excuse to try and satisfy your boyfriend.

"You are staring at her again, Charles," Arthur chided his older brother, he knew just how in love with you Charles was, but also knew that he'd never let himself love you properly for the fear of hurting you. Sleeping with you and being the other man would have to suffice for now.

"No I am not," Charles defended himself quickly, too quickly for Arthur to believe him. "I'm just...keeping an eye on her with that stupid boy. Pierre asked me to." Arthur chuckled at Charles' excuses. The two Leclerc's watched as you turned and faced your boyfriend, giggling as you pressed a small kiss on his lips and heading off to the bathroom, entrusting him with your drink - Which would be your first mistake of the night. Charles watched as you weaved your way through the mass crowd of the club towards the bathroom and flitted his attention back to that of your boyfriend, watching as he emptied a sachet of white powder into your drink.

"Charles?" Arthur nudged him, trying to see what had gained his brothers attention but Charles' attention was otherwise diverted away from his little brother. How dare this boy violate your trust like this?

"Fucker, I'm going to kill him," Charles went to storm off, but Arthur grabbed him before he could do any harm to your boyfriend. "Arthur let me go. He's going to hurt her." He backed off, noticing that Charles' eyes were no longer their usual green colour, now a deep, dark red. His eyes scanned the crowd, seeing you standing back with your boyfriend, now looking disoriented and swaying on your feet, putting up no argument as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the crowd with no regard to you stumbling over your feet in your high heels.

Charles weaved his way through the crowd, blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins as the music continued to pound through the speakers and coloured lights flashed and illuminated the otherwise dark club that he was in. Making his way outside, his pale skin shone under the Monaco moonlight, eyes scanning for you anywhere in the crowd gathered outside of the club.

"No, I don't feel good," He heard you whining from a dark alleyway a couple of streets down, your voice thick with tears and fear. You felt like you were dying, you were hot one minute, cold the next, your stomach was halfway up your throat ready to be thrown up at any minute, and you didn't have the strength to defend yourself against your boyfriend. You wanted to go home, you wanted Pierre to come and get you and make sure that this boy was too scared to ever look in your general direction ever again. "(Name), please stop, I don't feel well." You pleaded, futilely trying to push him off of you, your eyes welling up with tears as he pushed his knee in between your legs.

"It won't hurt as much if you stop struggling, pretty girl."

That sent Charles over the edge. He promised Pierre that he wouldn't let anything happen to you and now you needed help. Before he could hurt you any further, he was pulled off of you, hitting the wall opposite with a grunt.

Charles loomed over him, his teeth bared and eyes red.

Drowning out the sound of your crying and whimpering, Charles let his instinct take over, tearing into your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend as you screamed and cried, unsure if you were really seeing this or if you were hallucinating. You covered your eyes as you cried, shielding yourself from the violent attack happening in front of you.

Charles huffed he stood back up, wiping blood away from the side of his mouth and turning back to face you, his stomach dropping as he saw your distraught and distressed state. Panicking, he pulled your hands away from your face hoping that his familiarity would in some way calm you down - but the sight of your brothers best friend with red eyes and a face covered in your boyfriends blood only pushed your fear.

"No! Let go of me! Someone help me!" You screamed out, trying in vain to push Charles off of you so you could find someway to get back home. Charles, in a further panic, pressed his hand onto your mouth to silence your screaming.

"Please calm down, ange, it's all okay, I promise," Charles tried to calm you, even if it appeared to be without any result as you continued struggling to try and get away from him. "Please, please just calm down and let me explain, just let me talk to you." Looking into Charles eyes, you found yourself feeling more and more at ease, still despite your efforts to get away from him. His stomach sunk as he realised he'd unintentionally tranced you, leaving you at his mercy.

"Charles, what...what's going on?" You dazedly asked him, slumping forward into his embrace and leaning your head on his shoulder, leaving your neck perfectly exposed to him; Charles found months and years of self-control withering away, he'd never allowed himself to be in such close proximity to you.

"Please not now, Y/N, you need to rest," He tried to persuade you to go to sleep, hoping that under your trance like state that you would. Fighting sleep, you looked up into Charles' red eyes, hoping to find some glimpse of your Charles, not this...blood sucking monster, you wanted your Charles who always made sure to clean you up after your sexual encounters, who made sure that you were still okay with what you were doing, who you knew loved you but for some reason you never knew, could never let himself.

"I love you, Charles," You confessed, pulling his blood soaked face to look at you, even though all he could focus on was the pulse point of your neck, the sound of your blood rushing through your veins was too much for him to take.

He couldn't take it anymore.

You let out a gasp as Charles' fangs pierced through your neck, two sharp pain points flashing and then going numb. You knew that it was futile trying to get away from him, and accepted that if this was how you died, then you were dying in the arms of the man that you loved - even if it meant you'd never see your beloved brother again.

As Arthur made his way outside and up the street to look for where Charles had gone, he stopped in his tracks as he saw you laying almost lifeless in his brothers arms, his teeth well sunk into your neck as the blood had almost been drained from your body and the life drained from you.

"Charles! stop!" He pulled Charles off of you, unsure if you were even still alive. "Oh my God, Charles, you have to help her." Arthur checked your neck where Charles had bitten you, feeling a faint pulse.

"No, I can't, Pierre will kill me, Arthur," Charles was near hyperventilating, and looked at Arthur confused as he let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Oh, and you think he won't kill you when someone finds her here dead and you have to explain to Pierre that it was you, and that you left her here like a coward because you can't control yourself?!" The two brothers were now panicking, despite being in some way immortal, they were terrified of Pierre, your older brother was fiercely defensive over you. Acting quickly and moving beside you once more, Charles bit into his wrist, piercing the vein and watching as his blood slowly trickled out, much darker and thicker than your own, and put his wrist at your mouth, forcing you to drink his blood despite your very weak protests.

"We'll take her back to my place, tell Pierre she met a friend and she's staying there for the night, deal?"

"Deal."

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc angst #sebastian vettel #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #vampire!au #vampire!Charles leclerc #pierre gasly x sister!reader #pierre gasly x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #supernatural au

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thelittlewyrm · 1 month

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More space boys (in love)

#spn #cas #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #spn fanart #supernatural #dean #deancas #interstellar #supernatural au #astronaut cas #astronaut dean #artofwrym2024

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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You can ignore this if you’re uncomfortable with it, but a witch Charles or witch Oscar, who is terrified of reader leaving him, so he does some witchy things to make sure she can’t leave

i love it and this has given me an idea for another fic

Oscar kept his practices pretty well under wraps. He did it in the safety of his own home, and never when he was away at a race weekend. Nobody knew what he could do, nobody but Mark Webber, the man that taught him.

Oscar never practiced witchcraft has a way to influence the outcome of a race. He wanted his and Lando's win to be a show of their talents, not a show of his power.

It was the same for his relationship. Oscar wanted her to love him for him, not because of his magic. She didn't know about his magic, and Oscar wanted to keep it that way. He kept his spell books incredibly well hidden in plain site. He kept them on the bookshelf, a dust jacket for a fantasy novel wrapped around it.

Even if she opened it and tried to cast the spells, it wouldn't do her any good. She didn't have magic, she wouldn't be able to cast.

But then she pulled the book from the shelf. "I love this series," she said as she sat beside Oscar on the sofa. She pulled off the dust jacket and frowned. But she pushed on. Maybe Oscar had bought a special addition copy.

"Oscar, what's this?" She asked as she flipped to the first page. What was written on it wasn't... a language.

Eyes wide, Oscar sat up and snatched the book from her hands. "Nothing," he said quickly. "It's a Halloween decoration," he said and pulled the dust jacket back on. He put it back on the shelf and sat beside her.

She thought nothing of it. She certainly didn't think that Oscar was a witch.

But she got busy, was less and less able to spend time with Oscar. As much as she wanted to be by her boyfriends side, she couldn't, not with how occupied her job was keeping her.

Oscar didn't see it this way. She was pulling away from him, he thought. She was going to leave him because she found out the truth about him.

On one of the nights were she was late at work (one of the nights where Oscar thought she was trying to stay away from him), he flipped through his spell book, searching for an attachment spell. It was a kid of magic he had never done before, one Mark had warned him away from.

But he couldn't lose her, not now.

Oscar lit the necessary candles and muttered the necessary incantation three times. Now she'd never want to leave him.

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kahazel · 1 year

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Happy Bingqiu week! Who got their books already?

Here's a lil something for the supernatural prompt.

#bingqiu #bingqiu week 2022 #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #my art #digital art #supernatural au #comic #mxtx #svsss

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daechwitatamic · 5 months

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Of Ruin: Chapter 1 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: vampire hunting and killing, blood and gore in vampire attacks, language

WC: 5.7k

Maggie’s mother always told her nothing good happens after midnight. Maggie disagreed. Lots of good things happened after midnight. Usually in bars with loud music, her friends’ laughter ringing in her ears and a little too much alcohol singing in her bloodstream.

That was the case tonight - and the night had been wonderful. She and Farrah had still been going strong at midnight, throwing back shots in tandem. The DJ had been stellar and they’d danced until their feet hurt. And, the piece de resistance, they’d run into that guy from their Econ class - the one with the dark eyes and killer smile. He’d stayed with them the whole tail end of the night - even offered to walk them home, back to their apartment building.

He’d stayed with them, but his eyes had been on Maggie. And when, on the walk home, Farrah skipped ahead of them, buzzed and happy, he’d tugged on her hand and kissed her sweetly, right there on the sidewalk.

Nothing good happens after midnight, who?

And then, something weird happened. The stretch of sidewalk seemed suddenly darker, as if there was something between them and the flickering streetlight - like netting, or mist. It seemed, suddenly, that the lack of light was an entity - alive, all around them, shifting and changing and wanting.

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

But there was nothing to see except darkness that felt darker.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes, it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer.

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing.

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, head snapping up, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered to its feet, stepping over Farrah’s body and staggering towards them. As it approached, Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood, black like ink in this light, running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin. Could have been, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawn mower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no pupils or irises visible at all. Could have been, if not for the inhumanly long incisors ending below his curled upper lip.

“Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly.

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Its upper lip was curled in what looked like disgust, displaying its most fearsome weapons clearly. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs refusing to hold her up - let alone to run.

Not that she could outrun an Infracti.

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see the monster move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to shove the Infracti away from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms tightly, holding Econ Guy in place, its frightening face buried in the crook of his neck.

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened its hands - fingers splayed purposefully as it emptied them - and its victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. Its all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing.

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then it crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that it looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her.

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a beast straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his fangs pierce the flesh.

Taehyung wakes to a shout; he becomes aware of the pain before anything else. His head throbs, his throat feels like there’s glass in it, his shoulders and back ache like he’s carried marble slabs all night.

It’s a uniquely human curse to question, and Taehyung isn’t human, but he immediately tries to figure out why he hurts from head to toe. Especially since he hasn’t hurt in several centuries.

He shoots a quick glance around to see what he can figure out without moving. Right away it’s clear that he is not in bed. He is on the floor, the stone cool beneath his palms. A servant is crouched near him, repeating his name but smart enough not to touch him.

He can tell, as his blurry vision clears bit by bit, that he’s definitely in the palace proper, though not in a wing he frequents. The floor beneath him is just stone - no marble, no thick carpeting - which indicates he’s not in a living-quarters wing. The walls, however, hang with vibrant tapestries and oil portraits, gilded sconces lighting the way every few feet. Most definitely still the palace.

“Why am I here?” he manages to croak.

The servant turns over his shoulder and shouts to someone, “Alert the King!”

This is the first moment that Taehyung feels alarm atop the pain. He struggles to sit up, takes stock of his surroundings. The same servant still hovers near, face pinched with something akin to fear.

How did I end up on the floor?

Not only that - he isn’t even entirely sure where in the sprawling palace he is.

When he hears approaching footsteps and recognizes the sharp, staccato clicks and clacks, he almost sags back to the floor in relief. Instead, he pushes himself to standing, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him and then ebbing just in time for him to incline his head and intone, “Mother.”

Despite the centuries that have passed since Taehyung was small, something affectionate and maternal remains in the Queen. She presses cool palms to Taehyung’s cheeks and looks him up and down. She winces at something she sees. “Darling,” she says, the word lilting in the strange accent she has, one that belongs to a language long-dead. “What were you thinking?”

It takes Taehyung a moment to articulate a response. He’s frightened - something quite new to him - and he isn’t sure the correct move to make in this situation. The fear toys with logic, makes the answer slippery, hard to grasp.

He settles on the truth. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I mean - I can’t remember. I don’t know how I got here.”

He doesn’t ask, did something happen. It’s obvious that something did.

He hears his father, Sunjae of Rune, King of Infracticus, long before he enters the room, his authoritative voice barking questions and orders.

“How far has word spread?”

“There was only one witness. She’s in custody.”

“Handle her and send her back,” the King snaps. “As quickly as possible. Where is my son?”

This last question is roared as he finally enters the high-ceilinged corridor where his wife and son stand.

“I’m here,” Taehyung says, needlessly.

The King sizes him up, eyes narrowed, chest puffed. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he spits finally.

Taehyung clears his throat and then ventures, “For starters… I’d really like to know what happened.”

The King’s face slides from fury to something befuddled, his hands sinking to his sides like sails in the absence of wind.

–

Taehyung’s father leads them back to their private wing and closes them into a dimly lit room that houses floor to ceiling bookshelves full of tomes so old they’d crumble to dust if you dared to touch them. A fire roars in the hearth for aesthetics only - Taehyung’s kind can’t feel cold.

He locks the door and turns to face them. Taehyung’s mother has sunk delicately onto a fainting couch, and she watches her son sharply.

Taehyung feels itchy under her gaze. She’s the smartest of the three of them, and Taehyung knows it even if his father doesn’t.

“You’re telling me,” the King growls, low, “that you don’t remember any of it?”

“I was in my wing,” Taehyung promises. “Sometime near midnight. That’s the last thing I remember, until I woke up on the floor in a random hallway -”

The King and Queen exchange a look, an entire conversation in just a glance. Then, the King heaves a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Then, the Queen ventures, “The Elders should see him.”

The King grumbles something under his breath.

She tries again. “He could be ill. He could be going mad. We need to know!”

“Will someone please tell me what’s happened?” Taehyung bursts out, finally unable to take it - the anxiety, the questions, the conversation about him but not involving him, all of it.

“You went rogue,” the King says dryly, his eyes on the dancing fire instead of his son.

Taehyung feels his stomach drop. “Meaning?”

“Exactly what he said,” the Queen says, something steely in her tone. “You went above, alone, and… hunted.”

Taehyung feels his legs turn to stone. His stomach twists and a wave of nausea rocks him. “I what?” he asks, but it comes out like a gasp. The sides of the room are starting to go black and he breathes slowly, one hand gripping the back of the couch.

Silence expands, filling the room. Taehyung’s stomach lurches, and he closes his eyes.

“Did… did I -?”

“You took two humans and left a third alive. We have teams cleaning up, up there, and we’ve got the spare here -”

Took two humans.

The spare.

Taehyung’s stomach twists again. The black creeping at the edge of his vision draws closer to the center. Taehyung loses sight of his father’s face in the encroaching darkness.

“Darling, we’ve covered up incidents like this countless times. No one will know. We’ll make sure.” The Queen’s voice is soothing, bringing to Taehyung’s mind all the times when he was a child when she would hurry to calm him.

Taehyung shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

“You didn’t know you were doing it,” the King muses - his next problem to solve, not a placation to reassure his guilt-stricken son. “We must uncover the cause.”

“The Elders,” the Queen says again, insistently. “At least let them give him a medical once-over.”

The King sighs in defeat. “I suppose we have no choice. Wait in your rooms, Taehyung. I’ll summon the Elders at once. The sooner we find out what came over you, the better.”

—

Taehyung is in his wing when Jimin comes – uncalled, unbidden, simply as if he sensed his best friend’s distress. And perhaps he had – the Infracti have shown stranger powers before.

“I heard you had a bit of an adventure,” he says carelessly, flopping sideways along Taehyung’s favorite leather couch, feet propped on the armrest, as he has millions of times over hundreds of years.

“News travels fast,” Taehyung says bitterly.

Jimin smiles indulgently, used to his moody friend. “Not so. But they called on Seokjin to help wipe the memory of the girl who survived before they sent her back.”

Taehyung blanches. “That’s illegal.”

Jimin gives him a dirty look and a scoff to accompany it. “Please,” he says dismissively. “You can’t be that naïve, not in your position.”

The Queen’s words run back through Taehyung’s mind. We’ve covered up incidents like this countless times.

He sulks. “They shouldn’t be breaking treaty laws over me,” he grumbles.

Jimin lets out a sigh. “If rules can be bent for anyone, shouldn’t they be for you? Besides…” He sits up, looks at Taehyung more seriously. “It’s not like one of us went up there willingly, like… on purpose. If someone decided to just fuck the protection laws and go hunting, I’d obviously object to a cover-up. But that isn’t the case here. Something happened to you. They’re not covering up a crime, they’re recovering from an accident.”

An accident. He’d killed two innocent people. Nearly killed a third.

Taehyung drops onto a chair near Jimin’s feet, covering his face with his hands. “Truly,” he says hollowly, the words muffled by his palms, “I have never in over six hundred years felt this deeply guilty about something. Jimin, I killed people. Me. I did that.”

It’s an understatement. There aren’t words – not in any language, dead or alive – to describe the deep, crawling self-hatred Taehyung feels. There’s no phrase for the twist and ache in his stomach when he pictures the scene above-ground – bodies limp on the ground, the echo of screams from the survivor floating away into the uncaring night, blood thick and metallic on his tongue, a wild flash in his eyes.

Jimin shakes his head, lips protruding in a pronounced pout. “It wasn’t you. We all know that.”

“Those people are dead and the fault is only my own,” Taehyung says firmly.

“You weren’t yourself,” Jimin insists. “What did the Elders say?”

The Elders are terrifying, is Taehyung’s take-away. His own father is thousands of years old, and looks like a child in comparison. Infracti are not immortal; rather, under the right circumstances - and often with the help of the magic they can control - they can live for tens of thousands of years. The oldest Infracti that Taehyung knows - not counting the Elders, as he doesn’t know them - is around thirty thousand years old, and weaker every day. The Elders, whose ages Taehyung doesn’t actually know, seem so fragile they might be made of dust, particles held together by magic and force of will. He’d showered three times after leaving them just to get the icky shudders to stop.

“That I’m not ill and I’m not mad,” Taehyung recites dryly, finally removing his hands from his face.

“Which leaves what possibilities?” Jimin asks with a frown.

Taehyung shrugs. “They’re meeting about it right now. I’ve been told to stay in my own wing.”

Jimin squawks. “For how long?”

“Until they’re sure it won’t happen again, I suppose,” Taehyung guesses with a small shrug. “Or until they’ve come up with an answer.”

“Lovely,” Jimin quips sarcastically, and moves to rise. “Well, I’ll check in on you later this evening. I’m sure you’ll be bored, cooped up in here.”

“I’d rather be bored than -”

“I know.” Something new creeps into Jimin’s voice – some kindness, some understanding. “It wasn’t your fault, Taehyung. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Taehyung gives him a nod and sees him out, his stomach twisting and roiling. Only one of those things, he knows, is true.

Sunlight and fresh air assault you as you make your way slowly down the city block, the messenger bag around your body laden with thick books and hastily scribbled notes. The ache in your shoulder from carrying it has been part of your existence for so long that you barely notice it anymore.

You pass a bank and glance at the screen displaying today’s date and temperature, followed by the time. It indicates that you’ve somehow ended up here between buses. You’ll have to wait a bit for the next one.

At least it’s nice out, you think, and settle onto a bench just across from your bus stop. It backs up to a park, and you watch as people bustle by, most of them glued to their phone screens or carrying on conversations into their earpods. In the park, a group of kids is playing loudly, shouts and shrieks rising towards the cloudless blue sky.

“Songie’s team, you’re the Runes!” someone shouts, and it grabs your attention. You smile, watching them gather and form groups.

“It’s not Runes,” someone corrects snottily. “It’s Ruins.”

Actually, you think, hiding a little smile, the proper pronunciation of the powerful Infraci family falls somewhere between the two words.

The ancient language of Infracticus has phonics that most modern people struggle with. As a result, there tends to be two schools of thought regarding pronunciation. Commonly, the families are called the Runes, the Cleaves, and the Scores. At the university that you’d attended, at which you now work, they’d taught you Ruins, Leaves, and Scorns.

But it’s all the same, really.

You watch the game for some time. It’s a lot like freeze tag, and you remember playing it in the schoolyard as a kid. Teams – one Runes and one Scores – try to cross a field past each other without getting tagged and frozen. Teams had elected members called Cleaves, who were the only players who could unfreeze another.

It’s funny, you’ve always thought, how the actual history of the three Infracti families translated into the rules of the children’s game. To be historically accurate, it should have been three teams – Cleaves wouldn’t be members of Runes or Scores but their own faction altogether.

However, you do wonder if their ability to unfreeze players is derived from the Cleaves’ ability to heal, something the other two bloodlines have never possessed.

And is it coincidence that the game became the Runes versus the Scores, when those two families had a particularly ugly blood feud, millennia ago?

All three families have vied for power at one point or another – most known history of the Infacti includes this never-ending power struggle. But the Runes have managed to hold court since the time the protection laws were passed, the ones that both protect humans from being hunted and bans those same humans from doing the hunting. The ones that decree quarterly blood donations from every adult human to ensure there’s never a shortage that could lead to hunting. The ones that declare the monarchy follows only the Runes’ royal bloodline.

Hunting - both of and by Infracti - still happens, of course. There’s no such thing as utopia. But at least now there are consequences when an Infracti attacks a human, and consequences when humans turn to violence to drive Infracti out of their communities.

Questions like this, constant curiosity about the Infracti culture and history, had carried you through dual degrees studying the history and sociology of the Infracti. Now, after nearly a decade of your adult years spent in academics, you tote multiple degrees, including extensive experience with both curses and counter-curses.

Your family hates it - never understood it. Your mother has called it an obsession time and time again. But neither she nor your father can argue with the career opportunities in academia that you’ve been afforded, now that you’re full-time staff at the university.

And they don’t even know about the other opportunities that keep falling at your feet: more and more curse-breaking cases as the years pass. The more your reputation and success rate grow, the more your name seems to be passed around. You think your mother would faint on the spot if she knew that only two months ago your team had flown into deep Brazilian jungle and helped them to cast the counter-curse that freed an entire village from unending rain.

When the bus finally pulls in, bringing with it a warm breeze and the smell of gasoline, you rise, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder and searching for a seat. It’s about twenty minutes to campus unless you catch an Express – and you have no such luck today.

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly.

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim - the department head at the university where you teach - is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon. He was one of your first professors when you showed up here as a bright-eyed undergrad, years ago.

“Twenty minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse.

“I have a class at ten thirty,” you warn him. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It won’t take long,” he promises, and you agree to stop by before ending the call and turning your attention back to the bus window.

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter.

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk.

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack.

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology. He has dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, razor-sharp eyes, and - you notice when he smiles in greeting - a deep dimple on each side.

The expression on Dr. Kim’s face is a little strange - almost like he’s nervous to give you the news. You can’t imagine what might be giving him pause, considering your last meeting like this had landed you both in a literal rainforest. Could he have gotten a request for the team to go somewhere even more remote than that?

“We did,” he allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

He sighs, then nods towards his door. “Will you close that, please?”

You reach behind you and gently press the wooden door shut, feeling flutters of uncertainty for the first time in your career. The stranger shifts in his chair uneasily.

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk.

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out.

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know.

“Well?” you prompt, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hasn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noise like he doesn’t quite agree with this. “Anyway,” he says to you, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it.

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you. You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so they’d make sure we were safe?”

Dr. Kim seems to look far-away for a moment, contemplating his answer. You shift nervously, glancing sideways at Namjoon. You would have been reassured by a quick answer - the fact that he needs to formulate a response does nothing to quell your unease.

“I trust we are being invited there for the reasons they say,” he allows. “And so, I do believe the royal family will want us to be safe, yes. But the fact still remains that we will be humans walking around Infracticus. I’m sure we will be given guards - the question becomes, can we trust those guards completely? I fear I cannot say for sure.”

“It’s like walking into the lions’ den,” Namjoon murmurs beside you.

“Quite,” Dr. Kim agrees, nodding.

“Except there’s an injured lion and only we can fix it,” you point out.

“We can’t rely on that to ensure our safety,” Dr. Kim says, frowning more deeply. “It’s a delicate situation. The royal family cannot let it get out that the prince’s well-being has been… compromised.”

Namjoon frowns in confusion. “Why not?”

You think you understand. You venture, “To admit weakness, to admit to having been successfully attacked, to admit that the crown prince is cursed - it would be an open invitation for rebellion.”

“Yes,” Dr. Kim confirms, inclining his head, his white tufts of hair moving breezily. “The Infracti respect the laws that are currently in place, but the crown prince is the last member of the Ruin bloodline. If he were to die, or to be unfit to lead…”

“There’s nothing in the laws about who would rule next,” you finish for him, eyes wide. “It would be…”

“A war for the throne, I imagine.”

You sit in silence for a moment under the weight of this. Then, Namjoon says carefully, “I’m sorry, but can we circle back? The prince’s curse has to be secret, I got that - but how does that affect the safety of our team?”

“We’ll be hosted in the palace as honored guests,” Dr. Kim tells you both. “But no one beyond the royal family will know why. They don’t know that if they slipped up and harmed us, it would harm the prince, too. We can’t assume our purpose will serve as protection. Any Infracti beyond the royal family should be considered a threat.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, turning to face Namjoon. He looks just as bamboozled as you feel, validating your reaction.

“This is wild,” you utter, mostly to yourself. “This is absolutely bonkers.”

“This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. The curse itself must be complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves. If your reason for being there is uncovered due to a fault of our own, we’ll be facing the wrath of the royal family. And I… I’m afraid I won't be able to join you.”

“What? No - you have to,” you blurt, panicked. “I can’t do it without you - you’ve decades of experience over me - I’ve never led a case before!”

“They don’t want me,” he tries to explain. “They don’t want any possibility that someone will figure out who I am and put the pieces together. A simple inquiry of my name blows the whole thing - the first thing they’d find is curse-breaker. As I said - the secrecy of the prince’s condition is vital.”

You scoff. “So they want me because I’m nobody.”

He looks at you kindly, used to your moods. “They want you because you have a high success rate. Your ability to stay… lowkey, as the kids say -”

Namjoon makes a choked sound like he’s fighting a laugh.

“- you should see it as an asset.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” you say, because it’s true. Because it feels safer to have someone older, wiser, with more experience. Because it feels like less responsibility to not be the person in charge. Because it’s what you’re used to, and you cling to the familiar.

He shakes his head sadly. “The royal family will not allow it. I’m sorry.”

You lapse into silence again.

Namjoon speaks slowly, as if a new thought is dawning on him, and he doesn’t like it. “If they suspect the Scorns…”

Your stomach sinks.

Dr. Kim nods. “I imagine you may see the beginnings of some political unrest if an accusation is made.”

“Forget the accusation,” Namjoon says hollowly. “If we uncover that it was a Scorn attack… we’ll be walking into Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening.

Namjoon shrugs. “The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter.

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families.” (You snort at this. As if you ever would.) “Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets.

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turn, and let him catch up to you.

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you do the same, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something.

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

Next ->

thank you for reading! i hope you liked this first installment! chapter 2 will go up next friday!!! <3

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