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mirandasidefics · 15 days

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Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human.

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days).

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so.

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted.

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought.

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate.

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor.

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her.

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance.

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within.

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do.

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human.

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.”

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break.

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters.

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again.

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision.

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall.

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”.

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir. He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut.

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here?

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain.

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow.

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male.

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders.

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened.

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet.

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room.

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap.

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together.

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why.

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand.

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.”

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own.

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words.

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious.

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries.

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers.

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…”

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.” She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light.

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time.

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday.

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses.

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again.

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her.

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

#acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #erisweek2024

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the-monkeies-girl · 4 months

Note

I SO badly need a part 2 to Customary with Noa x reader 😭 pretty please!!!

I'M ON THE WAY DEARIE. I am so sorry it's so long but pls enjoy! Reblogs/Likes always appreciated. Maybe I make part three if anyone is interested! Thanks!

Title: Gone Hunting. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of blood, hunting game animals, animal mating. ) Words: 5.9K+ Pairing: Implied - Noa x Human! Reader. Summary: A week has subsided since you told Noa about the nature of romantic love. You wanted to avoid it, avoid him, but you had previously promised to go with him on a hunting trip. Was it a rouse for him to get you alone? READ THE SERIES HERE.

** Does Contain Mild Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.

-- -- --

It had been a week since your last in-depth conversation and you still found that you were unable to look him in the eye. Noa seemed to not notice, or maybe he did and just didn't care enough to do anything about it. After all, the seriousness of the conversation, the floating vibration that still cramped your fingertips when you thought about touching him, the hardness that found its way to your throat when you attempted any sort of conversation with him… It was disheartening to think, but you figured he just didn't care enough personally to pressure.

-- -- --

“Love doesn’t need to be understood,” You were talking to him in such a hushed tone of voice, something that wasn’t frequent with you and Noa turned his head to the side ever so slightly at the sound of it. Breathy, he would say it was… And very, very different from the self-assurance you often carried yourself with. Wavering around the corner of words as if you were unsure of what you were saying. You were avoiding eye contact again, Noa mused, half tempted to look over his shoulder at what you had locked your gaze on. Probably something off in the distance, a tree fluttering with the slight breeze that shuffled the fur on his body and the hair on your head. An Eagle maybe? Noa was consciously aware that his own feathery friend was sitting behind the two of you, unwavering in their loyalty to him. He wanted to be jealous of something you were looking at, but Noa found himself locked on to you, baited anticipation to hear that voice again, the way it was speaking to him. So soft, so gentle, so… so… Personal.

“Love just needs to be embraced.”

Noa had his hand up to sign but you had turned to the side already, shuffling as quietly as you could. Quiet, but it was deafening to Noa. Every fall of your foot, every breath you were taking deep into your lungs and releasing quickly, tucking your hair behind your ear, the mere friction of that… All sounds were beating down on him like the fists of another Ape. Had he… Done something wrong? Asked something wrong? It was now very obvious that you were done talking, pushed against the wall metaphorically and had nothing else to say to him.

He’d encountered this countless times in the few months that you had been here. But, your inability to go on and explain further left Noa understandably frustrated this time around. Not at you, never at you… He curled his fingers at his side and sat back on his legs, almost burning a hole into the back of your head with his eyes. You were now moving to get the horse you came on prepped for the small journey back to the village. Not that you needed to, it was just something to keep yourself occupied, away from the thought that he was perceiving your words in the way he wanted to. You left it vague enough to leave it up to interpretation, by all means.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at his Eagle and pressed a curled pointer finger to their beak. It was not too far of a trek back, you didn't need to adjust anything with the horse…But it was far enough away that you felt comfortable to talk to him openly. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t with others around, he figured that Echo’s arrogance would run wild and you would want to boast to the Apes about how things were. How things were better for Echo’s than Apes but you never did that. He also heard another concept about Echo’s and that was privacy. And out of all things, Noa knew that privacy in conversations was important. He never understood why; Apes were social creatures and most likely knew everything ( or close to everything ) about their neighbors without plight.

Maybe that was why Noa was so drawn to… He stopped his thought process there and shook his head. He was quick to rationalize. No, there was no reason to be drawn to any of this, but he didn't want it to stop. Noa was even quicker to give into selfish ideology. He was holding his hand out there in the deep dark, hoping to the highest heavens that your hand would reach his.

-- -- --

Tilting your head to the side, a deep sigh left your parted lips. That wasn’t like Noa, though… He wouldn’t adversely reach out to you unless you were willing to reach out first. That’s how it’s been since the beginning and that’s how it remained, you never wanted to change it because it made you feel wanted… Wanted by him…

Your legs felt like they were going to fall off and that derailed your train of previous melancholy. There was a nice river he knew about, about three clicks away and Noa used the excuse of going hunting to drag you with him. You didn't necessarily want to go, you feared being alone with him for prolonged periods of time but surprisingly… It was a pleasant enough ride there on the back of your loaned horse. You believed it to be Soona’s, and you were fortunate that she let you use it occasionally. Not much was spoken, a few phrases here and there spotted between actually talking and Noa signing at you one handed as he kept another hand on the reins of his horse.

The sun was high in the sky, almost midday you figured, peering up at it through the thick branches of the trees. There was a thick smell of condensation clinging to the leaves of said trees; it had rained the night before and deliciously drenched everything. Ironically though, as that thought escaped your brain, your mouth went slightly dry as you looked ahead, only a few feet away from the rider in front of you. He seemed to enjoy the wistful silence that fell around the two of you, his eyes shutting for a brief second as he enjoyed the sensation of the sun peaking through the trees, blotching his body. You noted that his fur seemingly changed color at that. From a dark brown to an almost honey brown. What you would have given in that moment to see him fully bathe in the sun.

Grasping the reins tightly, you beckoned your horse a bit faster. There was a subconscious desire to be near him despite what happened. Hell, you thought to yourself and let a small blush take over your cheeks, you’d have ridden on the back of his horse if he had asked you. Of course, if he turned to face you and noticed your expression, you had a quick response. It was chillier than most days, and that was the smoking gun. You’d blame it on the cold hitting your cheeks. Simple.

But, with yourself already tangled in the thoughts, you proceeded on. You imagined that idea… Sitting so close to him, your chest to his back, heart beating quicker than you cared to admit. Your face resting against his shoulder to look forward, almost the same perspective as Noa himself… You desperately found yourself clinging to that aspect. To see what he saw, to know what he knew, to… To feel what he felt. Now, as you had gotten closer, you could see the evident water droplets lining along his broad shoulders. He must have bumped into a low sitting tree, maybe a bush, that distributed its lovely rain water against him. You could smell in your vivid imagination, how he must smell… Deeply ingrained dirt under fingernails, the Earth below your feet, toes curling into the sand, the brisk whisk of a hazy morning standing in a field of wheat by yourself, the allotment of sun brushing against delicate skin… That prospect alone left you feeling incredibly heady.

‘Here,’ He signed quickly, simultaneously slipping off his horse as he communicated. You were jealous of his ability to multitask like that, it was never your forte. But, Noa must have been doing it his entire life. He was taught to do that, taught from those around him… Observation was a good thing, you learned that from him. You knew that he liked to fidget things in his hands, but he was seamlessly able to sign in between that and not lose track of what his hands were doing before. You swallowed softly, being snapped viciously out of your fantasy.

Giving him a slight nod, you intently watched as he rounded his own horse and glanced up at you with those soft green eyes. Your interest was raised surely, but it was haltered when you got a full glance at him. He had his usual garb on; the cross-body sack, a few empty walnut shells tied near his shoulder with twine that would tickle his cheek if he looked over that twine encasing what appeared to be a leather band, worn from frequent use. He had it just in case he found something of interest to take back to the village, the band on his arm, yellow and orange in nature with a soft accent of tan, with adjacent and colorfully complementing feathers to show his status. They were strikingly blue and vibrant against the brown fur on his bicep, tightening anytime he would move his arm.

The band alone caused you to pause. Noa was large, larger than you by far. Not necessarily taller than any other Ape, but broad and encapsulating, and you found your eyes following him if you were in the company of others. He was the leader, and that band on his arm was more than a slap in the face at times. You remembered in most Ape clans it would be considered a luxury that he was the one personally taking you to go hunt. From the throes of hierarchy itself it was a privilege.

Noa’s eyes momentarily caught the sunlight, appearing more gold around his pupil before shifting back to their regular green as he pushed himself up to stand bi-pedal. They were gorgeous, even without the light hitting them.

‘Been here many times, with Soona and Anaya.’ Noa smiled fondly at that, letting his eyes shift away from yours to take in his surroundings. Wishing to do the same, you found yourself staring at him a moment too long before catching on that you needed to dismount your horse, needed to get your things together from the sack on the back of your horse. There was an assortment of berry bushes to your side, some appearing much more ripe than others. Black berries were sorely abundant and your eyes traced the light shapes of them against the green leaves that they were almost camouflage in. It was just now the beginning of spring, it made sense that some were ready and some were not. But, by your powers of deduction, you gathered that you were not berry hunting. ‘Easy hunting for an Echo.’

His silent words made you feel a swell in your chest. He was being… You didn't dare say considerate, but that’s what it felt like. Perhaps, more accommodating than anything else. After all, you were just a human to him, and he had nothing to gain from being considerate, but had much to gain by gaining your trust so he was more accommodating by nature. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you rested your hands on the base of the horse's shoulders, giving a sharp breath in as you hiked your legs over the side. If you were paying any attention to your surroundings instead of intensely focusing on not slipping, on not looking like a fool, you would feel a set of burning eyes watching. Observing… Obsessing…

Noa tilted his head with a gruff sound, too deep in his throat for it to be caught by your ears from the distance he held himself. Specked, almost amber-like gaze caught hold of your hands, how dainty they appeared to be compared to his own, your legs, how agile you were being, surprising for an Echo, he chuffed to himself. You were usually not like this, not balanced. He had once seen you slip on ice, which replaying inside of his mind was mildly amusing. He didn't help you up that time, and simply watched as you stumbled, trying to sign in between your slips. You could have asked for help, but you didn't. He wondered why from time to time until you explained to him embarrassment. Then it made more sense.

And ever since, he tried to keep a more mindful eye on you, on your movements; Of course, to make sure you didn't fall. He heard that Echo’s were not durable, not strong like Apes and a fall in the wrong way could cause intense problems. That’s just what he told himself though. If he were being more transparent, which he was not being, he’d have to succumb to the act that he needed to keep you protected out of his selfishness.

“Need help?” He verbalized, your feet dangling for a split second before you finally landed on the ground. A grunt left your lips with the action, your knees burning ever so slightly as weight was put back on them. Brushing your fingers along the side of the horse to calm them, you glanced over your shoulder at Noa, triumphant enough to gloat that you didn't need any assistance. “Just like Ape.” His signing was languid as if he were truly unsure if he was okay to make a comment like that towards you.

You grinned to yourself as you turned back towards the horse, shuffling to the side to get to your bag which was easy enough. Trying to ignore that sufficient pride that hit you like a moving horse due to Noa’s simple words, you dallied for a second longer than you really needed to, painting your fingers along the rough sew of your bag. He was just trying to get you to feel comfortable, it was nothing more than that. I mean… You thought to yourself with a snide chuckle. Was… Was flirting even a concept he was familiar with? Surely, they had to have some sort of form. You knew that grooming had to be a heavy part, it was a personal and intimate detail that often got overlooked when human’s thought about Apes and their threshold to be incredibly social with each other. You had seen it first hand, along with those tender moments of foreheads touching one another. Brow to brow, usually hands on the heads to keep each other near as possible, eyes closing as two slowly became one and---

You tucked your shoulders into your bag, more aggressive than you needed to and allowed the added weight to anchor you as you twisted to follow whichever way Noa deemed worthy. You also knew that they were quite sarcastic when they wanted to be, and you found it endearing at times. Especially when it was Anaya. In your head, you had dubbed him as the sarcastic one, Soona as the caring one, Dar as the motherly one, and Noa… was just Noa. No immediate words came to your mind when you tried to think about it. Maybe that was a good thing! Maybe, what was happening, what had been said, was just a crush and you were finally trying to blow past it.

He was staying on his legs for you, not wanting to move onto all fours as his pace would be too fast. Another accommodation, not a consideration. There was his heavy spear splayed across his back, being held by the strap of his bag. It swayed with his movement. Subtle, his shoulders would move ever so slightly as he walked. Following suit, it felt like you were playing a game as you grasped your own spear from your horse. It was smaller than Noa’s but just as effective and hunched it over your shoulder, holding it loosely as you took pace to match his speed. Noa was only a meter or two in front of you, leading, but you wanted to be right by his side. He looked back at you and you found your feet coming to a small stop before picking back up, a silent agreement being made there at that moment. You wouldn’t use words. You would only sign as to not scare away any potential kills.

-- -- --

“I don’t understand,” You muttered to him, your shoulders fraught with confusion. Noa’s green eyes swept from his hands over to you and longed to have it reciprocated. There was nothing though, you were pretty focused on the kill. He was holding a small rabbit who had no idea their demise had come at the hands of the Ape in front of you. It was roughly tied at the feet, binding it so he could keep it stored properly for the ride back to the Village. It was ignorant bliss that the rabbit truly lived in and now it was gone. You were envious of that - the ignorant part. Swallowing softly, you shifted your gaze to the side and pretended to be amused by the fire. He had been studying you, trying to gauge what your words were going to be. Hard, mean? Assuming something you shouldn’t have? You liked to do that and Noa liked to prove you wrong just as much. But, without any eye contact, Noa could not read you. Could not see your face, and could not make any judgments towards you as you asked him, “You--- you hunt?”

Noa knew you knew the answer to that but he obliged it anyway, “Small prey. Rabbit, usually.”

Simple enough answer, and you left it at that. And deep down, Noa’s accusation was correct. You’ve eaten fish frequently enough with the Clan. And as the sun began setting and dinner time rose, you sat quietly perched between Anaya and Soona, both talking over each other about mindless chatter and watched Noa eating a fish, dissecting it almost like he were a scientist of some sort, navigating around the small bones with ease and some sickening form of elegance. He had caught eyes with you then, a piece of fish sliding between his lips as he chewed it tentatively. The beam of the firelight in front of you was able to mask the disappointed look on your face as you realized that he was only looking at you because he sat across from you. Nothing more. Looking away quickly, you put much focus on your own fish, roasted to a tender crisp. Suddenly, Noa’s eyes were watching your moves instead of sinking into your gaze.

The way your fingers swept along the length of the fish, the way you muttered under your breath trying to get a mouthful of fish instead of bone, you felt too self-conscious to eat. You sat it down on a leaf in front of you. Another set of eyes were on you and before you could open your mouth to say something to the Ape leader in front of you, Anaya was signing, asking if he could have your remaining fish. You said yes, hastily looking away from Anaya after the confirmation but Noa was not looking at you anymore, preoccupying himself in conversation with his mother.

That same night as everyone was preparing to return to their own nests, Noa had found you. If he was seeking, you often left yourself open like a book if he wanted to come see you. It was very rarely at night though, and you took it in. Eyes glazed from the sky above, littered with all its tiny self-sufficient lights, boasted tonight by the moonlight, into green eyes that were almost too dark for their own good. You could have sworn there was something mischievous there but-- You pinned it on it being almost pitch black, a trick of the eyes. Of course, his pupils were dilated, there was no denying yours weren’t as well but you weren’t sure if you could justify yours being from the lack of light. He was on all fours as he approached you, your hands setting down the soft pelt that you had dubbed your favorite to use in your make-shift nest.

Nothing to write home about, a tanglement of tightly sprung together branches, padded by a few animal pelts. Off to the side,and tucked away safely, were your clothes. Only enough sets to keep you going. Two pairs of pants, three shirts, some undergarments… You could hear Noa and Anaya in your head at that thought. The day you were caught washing your clothes in the river, the curiosity they both had at that as Noa observed you wringing out the cloth between your hands. ‘Echo weird.’ Anaya signed to Noa as they let you be, turning to go down the river and fish. If you were observant enough, you’d have seen Noa turn back towards you, only for a split second before deciding to leave you to your duty. Which, Noa still didn't understand.

It was enough of a bed that it was comfortable and didn't leave you feeling like a wilted flower the next day. You wondered for a brief time what Noa’s must have been like and felt your shoulders dip in. You were ashamed of how yours must have looked compared to what was the norm. Was Noa’s nest comfortable? Was it warm? Could he look out and see the sky when he wanted to? You knew vaguely that his nest was perched above the rest, a right of passage that was torn between his mother and himself at the moment of his fathers death, at least until he found a mate and then it would ultimately become just theirs. You didn't even realize you were clenching your fists so tightly that your knuckles were turning mildly white.

“You want to go?” He asked, not putting in any context. He must have realized that, picking the conversation apart from earlier, before dinner. “Hunting with me.” He gestured towards himself with a hand in the natural form of a ‘C’. It pressed against his chest gently. He was gesturing to himself which made sense as he continued, “Usually go with Anaya and Soona but can take you alone. The season change, rabbits are more---”

He was murmuring which came to a slow stop, deep in his chest, it faded to the sound of an animalistic growl when you finally turned fully towards him. He was coming up with some way to get you to go with him, to be alone with him, you hadn’t given him barely the light of day since your conversation only a few days ago. Some pathetic attempt it was, Noa shouted in his head and dipped his head when you looked away from him. You knew how to hunt--- You wondered if Noa knew that. There were many times, especially recently as you had gotten disconnected from your fellow group of Humans, that you were forced to hunt. It was needed but not really your favorite thing. You learned quickly though with the Apes that often Females were left to forage for berries, vegetables, seeds and roots and Males were left to hunt actual game. Fishing was done communally, including the young as it was often their introduction to the world and concepts of hunting.

‘I’d just be in the way.’ You signed to him quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up with your tone. Noa huffed at that and tilted his head upwards towards you again. He was still on all fours, it looked like an almost defensive position like he wasn’t opening up to you completely. Bringing you bottom lip in, Noa once again as he so often enjoyed doing, watched. You nibbled once, then again this time harder than before. ‘Not very good.’

‘Better than Anaya, got scared of butterflies once.’ Noa joked, shifting towards you slightly. He looked at the pelt you had so delicately placed in front of you and for less than a split second, he lost control. Pull you towards him, push you down on that pelt and absolutely---

‘Maybe,’ You finally caved, snapping Noa back into reality with your hand moving. Hard. He kept himself grounded, hands resting roughly into the dirt below him. ‘When?’

He had just been hunting today. There was no logical way for him to explain that he wanted to go again to anyone around him. ‘Few days from now.’ He signed slowly.

-- -- --

A few days ended up being closer to eight, and you were left stuck. You had already promised to go hunting, but then the dreaded conversation seven days ago left you dispelled and not as eager to go. Crouched rather uncomfortably next to Noa, you watched him idly tie a knot around his spear. You could tell it got much use and that it was his favorite, though there were many other weapons the Clan could provide. As if he were controlled by another, he raised his arm without looking up. The eagle appeared without a sound, looking at Noa with small beady eyes that you couldn’t read anything from. But, from his reaction as he nodded to himself, raising his arm once again to dispatch his eagle brethren, he must have gotten information. It never ceased to cause you amazement that he was able to do that.

‘Close.’ He signed, drawing you back out of your almost hypnotic state. ‘Den nearby. Finished mating season,’ Noa didn't look at you with that sign, but it was different than his usual language. He was mildly stiff, shoulders drawing in together. You dared to say it was rigid, like he was unsure that it was the phrase he wanted to use. ‘Now many rabbits.’

Lips parting at that, you moved your feet to sort them away from turning numb. The crouching position was more comfortable for Noa, you decided. His spine was curved to sit like this for more extended periods of time, eyes gently grazing over his posture at that moment. He was surely comfortable as could be, shoulders hunching inwards ever so gently. There was a meager temptation from your part to move so you could be face to face with him but you doubted that he wanted that. You were fine next to him, you reassured yourself and swallowed hard. It was a sound that Noa noticed but didn't turn his attention to. Unwanted attention on you, in the past, has caused you to only run or flee from him. He figured he’d bid his time, patiently waiting for you. Your knees felt like they were on fire, calves were absolutely going to cause problems for you tomorrow. from sitting in the squat position for too long. You only lingered on that for a second though as his words finally hit you. ‘Babies?’

‘No,’ He was quick to respond, somehow knowing that his answer was going to calm you down. ‘Mature now, born few months ago. Fast development. Best age to hunt for them. Good meat.’

You nodded and processed what he was telling you. He was incredibly knowledgeable about this, showing off his skills at hunting with just words. How else would he know these things without actively doing it on a habitual basis? You swelled at that thought. That Noa was indeed a provider, a show off at times, but a provider none-the-less. Whomever he ended up with was going to be lucky to have that unwavering dedication which spurred your next inquiry. ‘Mate for life?’

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him when you signed that. Last time the conversation about mating happened, you ended up not speaking to each other for seven days. He was piqued in it regardless. Were you asking just to converse with him, or did you truly not know the answer? Either way, he considered himself invested and shut his eyes in thought. Tilting his head to the side, he sat his spear in front of him quietly, only cluttering as it shifted against the rock you two were perched on. You were just making a light conversation piece, Noa decided and he wanted to provide an honest answer.

‘No, many partners over time.’ He was using both hands to sign before he dropped his green orbs to rest on you. Not just on you, but it felt like he was crawling inside of your skin with his next set of words. ‘Not like Ape or Echo.’ Obviously, he meant it in the broadened terms. All Apes and all Echo’s. Not just the two of you. Shaking that idea out of your head, you nodded your head in understanding.

‘Mating is fast for them,’ Noa went on, just desperate at this point to continue on the path of conversing. He knew it was making you nervous, he could hear your heart beating, he could smell the sweat build up on your forehead, on your palms. One part of him deceivingly liked it, the knowledge that he could get you like this, but then there was the other oblivious side of him that didn't counteract his thoughts and he found himself continuing. ‘Have seen it. Only seconds. Female…’ Noa only spared you a slight glance.

Just as quickly as his eyes met yours, they were gone and he was looking out into the dense forest. Not at anything in particular, but he was surely searching. If you didn't know Noa already, know the nature of his personality, you would almost wager that he finally picked up on the validity of the conversation and he was turning back into his usually reserved self. This was not a topic he’d have chosen to talk about with you. The mating rituals of a… rabbit. He couldn’t stop himself though. He wanted this, wanted you to know this. Maybe if he kept going, you’d ask another question and he’d give you another answer. It was rare when the conversations took a turn and Noa got to tell you about his own knowledge, he thoroughly enjoyed listening to you. But… This moment you found yourself in, you were carefully processing what he was telling you like you life depended on it. Like… You depended on him.

‘Female will sit and take it. Many times to ensure conception.’ You nodded again and felt a tingle run down your spine. You attributed it to being crouched still. ‘Male will fall off after. Anaya thinks from being tired.’

Biting your tongue to keep yourself from snorting, you found it comfortable enough to joke around a bit, ‘Male humans are the same way. One, two maybe three good thrusts then,’ You paused and weren’t sure how to conclude. ‘We don’t mate for life anymore.’

‘For what then?’

It was a legitimate question and it left you wondering if Noa would understand the reason, if he would be accepting of the reason. As a whole, he was still incredibly on the fence about humans and you knew that. You were careful in your answers when he wanted to know something, a meager fear that saying something too outlandish would cause him to go quiet without understanding the human element and he never pressed your answers when they were not something he wanted to hear. He’d sit, reflect and come back if he had any remaining questions. He deserved your honesty though, he would brashly give you the same without any hesitation. You sighed and flexed your back, trying to figure out a delicate way to put your answer.

‘Pleasure?’ Noa’s fingers moved fast. Your mouth popped open at his absolute audacity. You had to remind yourself that he had no clue that this was a very deeply private thing to talk about. You had explained to him privacy here and there, and while he accommodated it in most aspects like giving you your own small nest, giving you space to bathe, giving you space with him to talk, there were just some things that pushed the boundaries of what you wanted to tell him. And surely sex, mating like that, like he was implying, was pushing that and you were right up against it. Noa must have recognized that he fumbled asking you that, or at least, phrasing it so… so primally. He raised his hand to sign an apology, but you were faster than him.

‘Hardly,’ You signed that hastily, hands now resting on your kneecaps. You rubbed there, almost relishing in the way it felt. ‘Not many can have children. We do it out of survival.’

Noa’s face dropped at that, eyes flicking between the side of your face and your body language, trying to read the expression you had but he was having a hard time. Has he… Has he seen you make this face before? He racked his brain but nothing came immediately to mind. You looked like someone just told you terrible news. Your face was long with something Noa didn't understand. Your eyes were hooded, looking at the ground. Pressing your arms around your body, Noa recognized that as a defensive tactic. He pushed it. Foolishly. You weren’t going to talk to him anymore about it, about how it was for you before he found you, if you had… Had ever mated.

But, maybe that was for the best! Quash it before he knew the answer, before his curiosity got the best of him. It was for the best, he kept repeating inside of his head, that he didn't know. That you didn't tell him someone else laid claim to you already. Running his teeth along his sharp canines, Noa turned with thought. He had done it without care. Asking you such a stupid, pointless, meaningless question as if he himself knew pleasure like that. He didn't even know what he was talking about when he asked! He didn't…Even…. Know… Would he ever? He had to wonder. Know what he was talking about, the implications of what he suggested?

His stare rested on you, the side of your face as you were trying to process everything that just transpired. You were avoiding eye contact, a tell-tale sign to the Ape that you were done chatting. A soft breeze hit the air around you, Noa diving almost face first into the smell that wafted off you, the bouncing of the small baby hairs on the top of your head, not as long as the rest but trying to get there and the picking of your fingers at the fabric that had bunched around your knees. It was asinine to think that he would ever know with you. And he was even more so to think about asking let alone actually doing it.

What was he expecting? An answer? You so flatteringly telling him you had never been with anyone, that you opened your arms to him to lay claim? An Ape of all creatures. He chuffed at that and broadened his shoulders. But, the thought of you with another, any other, made him feel a surge of aggression, resting too uncomfortably at the back of his head like he had been crouching his head down to look at something for too long. Quicker than lightning, Noa bared his teeth and picked up his spear. With a free hand, he gave you only one command.

‘Let’s go hunting.’

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #planet of the apes #noa #noa x reader #noa x human reader #owen teague #fanfic #fanfiction #emmy writes #planet of the apes x reader #kotpota

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 18 days

Text

When Gods Listen

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x female!Durge/reader

Summary: Astarion is hit by a memory spell mid-combat. You fear what will happen to him, but Astarion only knows he woke with the answer to his prayers looking down at him.

Word Count: 6,162 words

Warnings: post Astarion's first romance scene, descriptions of battle, Astarion's past, typical Durge thoughts, temporary memory loss, temporary amnesia, Gale being helpful, vampire feeding, a cliche 'oh. oh.' moment, kissing, unspoken confession

Note: Reader is based on my drow half-ef Durge, Nixu, but remains from the second-person perspective with only brief & vague mention of her appearance. My first time writing Durge (resisting), so let me know what you think!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

How long had you been fighting? Ten minutes? An hour? Gods, you didn't know. You couldn't focus on anything other than the weapon in your hand, the number of arrows in your quiver, and the spells you had prepared. Letting your focus stray to your companions had already cost you, proven by the blood running down your arm and the claws that had torn your pants to shreds.

Need new armor, you thought as you slammed a dagger into a goblin's throat. The creature gurgled and clawed at your hands, leaving behind red scratches, until you yanked out the blade. The goblin fell to the blood-soaked ground with a wet thud.

Shadowheart screamed behind you. You heard the snarl of a wolf and turned to find one lunging for her, the cleric frozen in fear. You reached for your bow; Gale was faster, sending a Fire Bolt at the wolf. It snarled and turned on Gale.

You strung an arrow to your bow. You had four left, including this one. Your shot would have to be incredibly precise if you didn't want to get any closer to the wolf; you didn't have enough arrows for do-overs.

Taking aim, you drew back your string, taking a deep breath. Easy does it, you told yourself.

The wolf's body tensed. It sat back on its haunches, ready to lunge for Gale. He was in the middle of preparing a spell; it wouldn't be ready by the time the wolf's jaws were around his throat.

An arrow flew directly into the wolf's jugular. You blinked. Had you loosed your arrow? No. It remained in your fingers, notched to your bowstring.

Your eyes sought out the arrow's source and landed on a pair of red eyes creeping out of the shadows. Astarion slipped out of hiding, his face stony. He held his own bow. He stared down the wolf until it collapsed with a pitiful whine.

Both Gale and Shadowheart turned to other enemies, knives flashing and spells meeting their targets.

There was a horrid howl from somewhere on the battlefield. You whirled toward the sound and found an irate human hurrying down the rocky hill. You guessed the howl had been the wolf's name, then, and this was its owner.

"Astarion!" you shouted. "Behind you!" You pointed in the direction of the approaching human—a wizard, by the looks of her.

Astarion turned and dropped into a crouch. She began summoning a spell; you recognized it as a memory spell. Temporary, but all-encompassing. Before Astarion could hide, the spell hit him square in the chest.

Dread coiled in your stomach. Astarion stumbled backwards, a hand coming to touch his chest. Then his body went rigid. You weren't close enough to see it, but you knew his eyes had glazed over.

Astarion glanced around, clearly confused as to how he had ended up in a battle.

"Shit," you muttered.

He'd be easy to kill in this state, you thought. All too easy to stab in the brain and watch the blood run into his eyes. Ugly desire curled through your stomach, a desperate need to gut him from the inside out settling in your chest.

You blinked and the urge was gone. You glanced around you, expecting your butler, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Gods, why can't the urges be something simple, like wanting him whimpering beneath me again?

You started toward Astarion. Goblins swarmed you. You cast a poison spray across them and cut them down as quickly as you could. You looked up to find the wizard whispering in Astarion's ear. He turned toward Gale and Shadowheart, expressed pulled into confusion.

A goblin clawed at you, trying to climb your legs. You shook it off and slammed your knee into its face. You looked up again and found Astarion with an arrow pointed at Shadowheart's back. You shouted a warning.

"What the hells is he doing?!" she shouted.

Gale frowned at Astarion. "Amnesia," he said. "She messed with his memory."

All eyes widened in horror as the woman gave Astarion an order: "Kill." He loosed his arrow and Shadowheart just narrowly dodged it. Astarion readied another.

"He's under her command," Gale said.

You jumped to a higher vantage point. "Can we stop the spell?"

"Not the memory spell, that will take time to fade," he reasoned, "but if we kill her, she can't command him to kill us."

"Great," you said. "Now I have a plan."

The wizard shrieked with laughter. She turned around, her hands spread, a sneer on her face. "You'll never kill me," she snarled. "I'm far more powerful than—"

She fell with a thud, your arrow buried in her heart. You jumped to the ground and looked down at her where she lay, gurgling and glaring at you. You cocked your head. "You should know better than to expose yourself to attack, wizard. Now I will make your head a statement piece."

Without thinking, you drew your knife. Yet you froze when you heard Gale give a shout. You looked up and found an arrow—one of Astarion's—in his shoulder. The wizard could make no more orders, but her last command was still standing. He was still attacking the others.

"No time for that now," you said to the corpse. You left it where it lay and ran toward Astarion. As you got closer, you realized he looked incredibly confused about having shot Gale.

Gravel crunched under your feet, sliding out from underneath you. You slipped to a halt in front of him. "Astarion? You okay?"

He flinched as your hand came to rest on his shoulder. He shrugged off your touch. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"I'm..." The words died on your lips. What were the two of you? Gods knew there wasn't really a label for whatever it was the two of you had. Would he even believe it if you tried to explain it, while the memory spell lasted? "I'm your friend. We met on the road. We stuck together with Gale and Shadowheart here and the others back at camp to get rid of the tadpoles."

Astarion looked at you, studying you with a gaze as guarded as it had been when you'd first met him. "I don't..."

"You've been hit by a memory spell, a very powerful one," you told him, resisting the urge to grab his hand. "It's given you temporary amnesia."

"Why are we fighting?" he rasped. "I... I don't know who to... She told me to fight you." He glanced back at the body. He seemed to be panicking a little now. "But then you killed her and now I... I don't want to kill you anymore."

"You don't have to," you promised. "You don't have kill us, Astarion, we're your friends."

"No, not them," he said. "Just you."

He raised his bow, an arrow already prepared and aimed for Gale's heart. You grabbed the bow, wrenching it from his hands and throwing it to the ground. He growled, deep and animalistic. His eyes flashed a brighter red and his lip pulled back from his fangs. They dripped with saliva.

Such a pretty monster, you thought. It will be a shame to rip out his heart.

But you didn't follow your urge. Instead, you slammed the pommel of your dagger into the side of his head. His eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the ground.

Gale shouted at you, utterly horrified. "What was that for?"

"He was going to kill you," you said. "I don't think there's anything we could have said that would stop him." You glared across the battlefield. "Let's deal with the rest of this and get him back to camp."

Shadowheart yanked the arrow out of Gale's shoulder and healed him quickly. You watched his skin knit back together with a strange fascination that tingled beneath your own skin, like you'd felt it before...

The rest of the goblins and wolves felt like they took no time at all. You were aware, of course, that your sense of time was disrupted by your worry; every so often, you cast a look toward Astarion's crumpled body, passed out but corpse-like for his lack of breathing. A discomforting desire shuddered through you at the sight.

He is my friend, you told the need in your gut that told you to kill him twice over. He trusts me. I will not hurt him.

Yet you weren't so sure you could trust yourself to keep that promise.

When enemies finally stopped swarming, you went back to the wizard's corpse. You dug through her pockets for anything useful. You found several amulets imbued with powerful magic and plenty of scrolls. You took her weapons without much thought; you could inspect them later, but you had more important matters to begin with.

"Is he alright?" Gale asked as you knelt beside Astarion.

"He should be," you said. "I didn't hit him that hard."

"Something tells me he won't be too pleased about that when he wakes up," Shadowheart said.

"If he remembers it, that is," Gale said. The wizard sounded the most worried you'd ever heard him. "That was a powerful memory adjustment spell."

You frowned. "It is temporary, isn't it?"

"I certainly hope so. For his sake and for ours," Gale replied. "Here. Let's get him back to camp. It's too dangerous to continue on with him like this."

Gale cast a levitation spell and Astarion's body rose. His face was obscenely peaceful and it dawned on you just how tortured he usually looked when he tranced. You cocked your head, wondering just how deep that memory spell was going.

A hand fell on your arm. "Is everything alright?" Shadowheart asked.

"I'm fine," you said. "Just thinking." You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from Astarion's slack face. "Come on. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of daylight left."

~❊~

Astarion felt like he was...swimming? Maybe. Everything was fuzzy. His mind felt bizarrely empty and way too full at the same time. He saw nothing through his heavy, closed eyelids. Try as he might, he couldn't get them to open.

A sense of urgency was sitting in his chest. He had something to do, didn't he? He'd been...

The feeling of whatever it was, of holding something light and curved, of pulling his arm back and letting go, disappeared back into the murk.

Frustration bloomed in Astarion's mind. What was going on? Was this a trick of Cazador's?

Oh, there! That was...something. A person? Yes, an unpleasant person. Someone he was rather upset to have remembered, even if it meant at least there was something in this useless head of his.

A vile taste filled Astarion's mouth, like rat's blood and salty bodily fluids. Somehow, Astarion knew it was because of the person he despised so completely. Yet how?

Sudden hunger curled through Astarion's stomach. He groaned, clutching at his stomach. I have to hunt, he thought, but he still couldn't get his eyes open. Trying only pushed him further into the thick, liquid blackness that surrounded him.

Help, Astarion tried to say. His mouth remained closed. Someone help, someone get me out of here. Gods, please, get me out!

The silence of his mind answered him.

Astarion whimpered, curling into a ball. I'm so hungry, Master, he whined, but only one rough word came out, nearly lost in his throat. Once again, he was dragged back into darkness.

~❊~

"Astarion's not doing so hot."

Karlach's voice roused you from the thoughts swimming in your head. You sat back on your haunches, somewhat surprised to see the weapons you'd been sorting through from today's battles still in front of you in a heap. Had you gotten so lost in your thoughts you'd stopped working?

Never mind that, tend to the pretty corpse, you told yourself. You stood up, ignoring the saliva gathering on your tongue. "How so?"

"He's tossing and turning, groaning in his sleep," she said, chewing on her nails, glancing in the direction of the trancing elf.

"I'll check on him," you said.

You walked across camp toward Astarion's tent. When you'd gotten back to camp, Shadowheart had thought it wisest to keep him in view of everyone, just in case something went wrong, so Astarion currently lay on your own bedroll in front of his tent.

You could see Astarion's sleep had become fitful. He had tossed and turned so much that he'd thrown off the blanket he took everywhere that you'd put over him. His hair was beyond messy. His eyebrows were pinched together and he was panting unnecessarily.

A soft groan slipped past his lips as he rolled to one side, desperately hugging his arms to his stomach. You cocked your head. Was his hunger causing him to stir?

"At least we know I didn't kill him knocking him out," you said.

Karlach opened her mouth but was interrupted by Astarion's whimper. The two of you both looked at him again, concerned. "Master," he rasped.

Your body stiffened. You had a sudden need to keep Karlach away, sure these babblings were not something Astarion would want anyone to hear.

Why are you not also leaving him be? you asked yourself. You decided against answering that question.

"I'll keep an eye on him," you promised her.

Karlach gave you a curious look, then nodded. She turned away and headed back across camp.

You sat down beside Astarion. You peered down at him, his face fixed into an expression of pain.

Poor creature, you thought.

Astarion gave another whine of hunger, curling into the fetal position. Your own face pinched into an expression of sympathy. You took your dagger from its sheath and pricked your finger on it. With your free hand, you held open Astarion's mouth, then hovered your bleeding finger over it.

Achingly slowly, the blood dripped into Astarion's mouth.

~❊~

Food.

A sharp, iron tang filled his senses. He could smell it, so close he was sure if he could just convince his body to move through the sluggish black around him that he would be able to taste it—

Blood hit his tongue, the taste of a single droplet bringing saliva that coated his jaws. Another drop followed. One after the other, droplets of blood collected on his tongue. Somehow, he found it within himself to swallow.

Astarion knew this blood. The taste was oddly familiar, though it wasn't part of his regular diet. No, this was not the blood of bugs and rats—this was the blood of a thinking creature. One he'd feasted from before.

Master will torture me for this, he thought. Master will write more poetry on my skin.

But Astarion no longer found it in him to care. As more blood dripped into his mouth, he swallowed it down with enthusiasm.

Strength returned to his limbs. The hunger that plagued him constantly began to subside, easing into something bearable. Old aches and pains disappeared.

There you go, Astarion, a female voice said. She sounded close—and worried. Just drink. It will help.

Astarion obeyed on instinct. He knew this voice. It was uncannily familiar, the kind of voice he'd listen to for hours just to keep hearing it. Yet...where had he heard it? Was this a victim, coming back to haunt his memories? It certainly wasn't one of his sisters...

With a full belly, restlessness took over. Astarion quickly grew bored of the dark surrounding him. He shifted, the movement slowly bringing him back into his body. He huffed impatiently.

Are you coming back to me? the voice asked, accompanied by a soft touch on his cheek. A brief moment of silence followed, then— You're scaring the others, Little Star.

Astarion tensed. That name. No one called him that. His siblings knew better and his victims never got close enough, so...

A hand slipped into his hair. Panic took over. Astarion's scalp tingled. He anticipated pain to follow.

Something within him snapped—

~❊~

Astarion's eyes opened the same time the thread within him grew too taut. He lurched upward, a snarl on his lips. He bared his teeth, prepared to rip out the throat of whomever had touched him—

"Easy!" It was the same voice. The hand left his hair and pushed him back to the ground. A figure appeared over him. "It's just me!"

The voice stopped him. Astarion let himself be pushed back down—surprisingly gently, with only one hand on his shoulder. He focused on the figure above him and slowly your features come into focus.

You're...beautiful. Your hair has been pulled out of the way, leaving the concern and worry on your face clear to his eyes. Your eyes were wide, but you didn't seem to be afraid of him. In fact, the look on your face suggested you know his dangers all too well.

You were the answer to every prayer he'd always been too scared to voice.

Slowly, Astarion relaxed. You looked instantly relieved.

"It's me," you said again, calmer now. "Do you remember me yet?"

You lifted your hand to his cheek. Astarion could smell the blood on it—the same blood he'd just tasted. He turned toward it and saw the small slice in your finger.

"You fed me?" he asked.

You nodded. "Of course I did, Astarion."

Astarion flinched. "How do you know my name?"

Disappointment flickered in your eyes. "I'll take that as a no," you sighed. Only then did Astarion realize you'd asked him a question. "We travel together, Star. With our friends. So that we can get the tadpoles out of our heads?" You spoke slowly, trying to give him time to catch up.

But Astarion didn't recognize anything—except for the smell of your blood, which seemed so innate to him, beyond the taste of it on his tongue.

"I— I'm sorry, I don't know," he whispered.

"Nothing sounds familiar?" you asked. When he shook his head again, your disappointment showed on your face for a moment. You hid it quickly with your next breath, but Astarion saw it. "That's alright. It'll come back to you."

Fear suddenly wrapped its claws around his heart. "Will it?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "It will. I promise, Star." You took his hand in yours and squeezed gently. "And I'll be with you until you do remember."

A thousand questions swirled in his mind. Who were you? What had he done to deserve your kindness? How could you be so certain that he would recover?

Deep in his heart, he wondered if he even wanted to recover. The bits and pieces floating around inside his head... They were not pleasant. And yet, all he could think to ask was, "Why?"

You smiled softly at him, almost regretfully. You were silent for a long time, avoiding his gaze. Your hair just barely covered your eyes; Astarion could not make out your expression. At last, you raised your head toward him. "If you were in your right mind, you'd know." The muscle in your jaw feathered. In a hushed voice, you added, "Honestly, that scares me more than this."

Astarion's eyes narrowed. He felt like he was missing something, something obvious. You were hiding something, but he couldn't fathom what or why...

You turned away from his intense, questioning gaze. "Rest. I'll be here when you wake up." You pulled a knife from its sheath on your boot and a rag from your pocket. You began polishing it.

Astarion watched you for some time, entranced by the methodic way you cleaned your weapons, pausing to inspect the shine of the blade. It did not take long for the drowsy blackness to seep into the edges of his consciousness, taking over with every blink. Soon, there was nothing left but...

~❊~

You weren't entirely certain when Astarion had dozed off, just that you had suddenly felt the loss of his gaze. You glanced at him, his body still on your bedroll.

A few moments passed while you watched him. Once you were certain he was deep in his trance, you left his side to collect a handful of herbs and a water flask.

You measured out the herbs and tied them off in a mesh pouch. You steeped them in the cold water and watched the color change achingly slowly. Only when it had reached a greenish-yellow color did you gently reopen the bloody spot on your finger, hissing as the skin split again, and let your blood drip into the mixture.

You stared down at it, watching the blood sink to the bottom of the bowl. The herbs, meant to help improve memory, ought to do something for his memory loss... Or so you hoped.

With Astarion still trancing, you left the herbs to steep. You returned to your own tent briefly to retrieve a book to read while you waited for him to wake.

The evening passed surprisingly slowly. You got through several chapters before you were interrupted by a gentle tap on your shoulder. You looked up to find Gale offering you a plate of food.

"Thank you, Gale," you said, accepting it after you'd put your book down. "How's the arm?"

"You're welcome. All healed up, thanks to Shadowheart," he said. He glanced at your mixture. "Is that for Astarion?"

You nodded. "It's a bunch of herbs to help improve memory. I was thinking it might speed up the 'temporary' part of the wizard's spell."

He thought for a moment. "I have a few spells that might help," he said. "Pass me the bowl."

You did so and watched curiously as Gale muttered a few quiet incantations over the mixture. When he passed the bowl back to you, the water faintly glowed lavender.

"That should help," he said.

"What did you do?" you asked, frowning. You hadn't recognized any of his mutterings.

Gale bit back a smile. "Those spells should increase the herbs' potency. It will strengthen the potion, and our elf's ability to retain his memory."

For a moment, you just stared at him. Then you said, "You have to teach me those spells."

Gale smiled. "Anytime," he promised. He nodded to the plate he'd given you. "Eat. You need your strength, too."

You nodded and ate quickly. Astarion shifted in his trance, mumbling quietly. You glanced at him and heaved a sigh when you realized he was, once again, clutching his stomach.

"You are a pain to feed when you can't bite me," you said to him before once again opening your finger and letting your blood drip into his mouth. Yet you weren't nearly as annoyed as you sounded; you honestly didn't mind caring for the elf. Gods knew he deserved it.

You returned to your book until night fell. The others came to check on you and Astarion before they retired. Wyll put out the campfire and you looked at the vampire still knocked out on your bedroll.

"Guess we're sharing again," you murmured to him and wriggled into your bedroll. You got cozy, comforted by his presence, despite everything. You rolled to put your back to him, but whispered over your shoulder, "Good night, Astarion."

~❊~

Astarion woke up very suddenly, a scream in his throat. He covered his mouth with a hand before it could come out. He lay that way for several moments, trying to calm the sense of panic in him from yet another nightmare of his master, before he realized he was not in his tent. Or any tent.

His head rolled to the right, toward the heat next to him and the scent of you. You had curled up beside him, your back to him, some distance between the two of you. For some reason, his heart sank. Why hadn't you cuddled up close to him?

Bits and pieces of memory hit him with a pounding headache: something slamming into his chest, loosing an arrow from his bow into Gale's shoulder, waking up and lunging for you, watching you sharpen your knives...

Gods, what had happened over the past few days. When had they left that battlefield?

Astarion glanced at your sleeping form again. A deep ache sat in his chest; he wanted... Gods, did he really? He wanted to hold you. He wanted you in his arms.

For her heat, he told himself as he rolled onto his side and closer to you, draping his arm over your middle. He ignored the fact that his explanation did not cover the little kiss he pressed to the nape of your neck.

You stirred in your sleep. "Little Star?" you murmured, pushing back against his chest.

"Don't wake up," he murmured. "I'm here."

He watched a sweet, sleepy smile cross your face. "It worked," you mumbled. You hand came up to slide into his and squeeze gently.

Astarion frowned. "What worked?"

You rolled to face him, even though your eyes remained closed. "I'll tell you in the morning," you said. You yawned and nuzzled your face in his chest, apparently happy to hide in the fabric of his shirt and his scent. You hummed. "My pretty little death."

There you were with your strange little sayings. Astarion raised his eyebrow, assuming you'd caught a whiff of his (albeit faint) odor of death. "Do I need more perfume?"

"No," you said, quite adamantly. "Smells good."

Astarion bit back a giddy, boyish smile. "If you say so." He put his hand into your hair, fingers scratching your scalp gently. You hummed contentedly and, within seconds, fell back asleep against him.

He wrapped his other arm around you as well, pressing you close to him. A twinge of hunger passed through him, but he ignored it; while you had told him plenty of times he could feed while you slept, he'd rather wait until the morning than risk waking you again.

Too alert to fall back to sleep, Astarion looked down at you. He brushed a few strands of your hair from your face, reveling in the softness of your hair and skin. He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, content to admire you until his eyes got tired of you. Truthfully, he wasn't sure that day would ever come.

"Oh, you," he murmured. He kissed the top of your head and you lifted your head toward him while you slept, turning your face toward him. Like a sunflower seeking the sun, he thought, a very old distant memory surfacing—his tiny hand in a bigger one, belonging to someone telling him to look at the big yellow flowers in front of him...

He was your sun. And you were...his.

Something in his chest stirred. It wasn't quite a heartbeat, but it was very close: a fluttering in his heart, truly awakening for the first time. A shuddering breath escaped Astarion's lips.

Oh.

Through the fuzz of the past few hours, Astarion dimly remembered you smiling at him, soft and sad and unsure, sorrow in your voice as you said, If you were in your right mind, you'd know. Honestly, that scares me more than this.

And Astarion did know. He did.

Oh.

"My darling," Astarion murmured, shifting to curl his body around yours. You responded in your sleep, clinging tightly to him. He kissed your cheek and then rested his head against yours, watching the sky and patiently waiting for the sun to rise.

For the first time in two hundred years, the gods had finally listened.

~❊~

Your body registered the warmth of the sun before you fully woke. It spread through you, spreading a lazy comfort through you. You slipped between peaceful sleep and fuzzy wakefulness for some time before lips roused you completely.

Tiny kisses covered your cheeks and nose. A hand cupped your cheek. "Wake up, my love," a soft voice said. Your heart warmed and your eyes flickered open. Astarion!

His crimson eyes crinkled with a smile when you looked at him. "There she is," he whispered, fonder than you had ever heard him.

"You're back," you murmured, overjoyed to be his love again but desperately tamping the feeling down. He would certainly see it now if you were not careful to hide your heart.

"What happened?" he asked. "I remember fighting goblins, but nothing else until I woke up to you avoiding me in your sleep." His tone was teasing, but there was something else there—some little bit of vulnerability. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest.

You propped your head up on your hand. "It's a long story, Star."

"Tell it to me while I feed," he suggested, already shifting to perform your morning ritual.

You rolled onto your opposite side and exposed your neck to him, sweeping your hair out of the way. "Alright," you said, barely suppressing a shudder as his lips brushed your skin, leaving a soft, yearning kiss.

What has gotten into him today? you wondered.

Astarion finally sunk his teeth into your neck. You let him take one, two, three swallows of your blood before you began talking. You spared no details, telling him what had happened since he'd been hit with a memory spell as steadily as you could with him sucking at your neck.

When he was finished, Astarion licked over the holes in your neck until they stopped bleeding.

"Thank you," he said, uncharacteristically quiet. "For the meal and for staying with me. I can't imagine it was easy work."

You looked up at him, entranced by the flush on his cheeks. You reached up to cup his face, admiring him for a moment before snapping out of your daze. "No, it...it was fine. It was..." You.

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Your heart sank into your stomach. He knows. Gods, he knows how I feel.

Astarion took your chin in his hand and lifted your head. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. He looked at you with that sweet, fond look in his eyes for a moment. Then they fluttered shut as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

Your surprise melted quickly into content as his thumb stroked your jaw instead. He tasted vaguely of iron; arousal fluttered through you, your urge only growing more powerful at the taste of your lifeblood on his tongue. Yet it slipped away as Astarion cuddled closer to you, sheltering within your arms, his lips never leaving yours. His soft, barely audible moans, were like an epic poem, his kiss a balm to the worry that had been building in your chest.

He feels it, too.

You broke away for a moment of air. "Astarion," you whispered and he let out a feral growl, chasing your lips eagerly. But for all his eagerness, it was not the kisses he gave you before he ravaged you. He was softer, slower. You felt the promise he was making you in that moment.

The kiss went on. The dynamic changed slowly; his fangs scraped across your lips—his tongue slipped into your mouth—your tongue into his—he suckled on your lower lip—you gently held his lip between your teeth—your fingers curled in his hair—his hand on your neck.

You let Astarion decide when he was done, happy to kiss him slowly. Your hand fell to his chest and rested above his unbeating heart. He hummed into your mouth.

When he did finally pull away, his cheeks were delightfully red, the tips of his ears pink. His eyes fluttered. A slow, content smile formed on his lips.

You kissed his forehead. He turned a deeper shade of red. "Thank you, my Star."

Astarion nuzzled into you. "Darling..." He dropped his mouth to your neck, once again kissing his feeding place. "I don't want to stop."

You smiled. "So don't."

Astarion was kissing you again in an instant, his hands cupping your face, cradling you close. You melted into him, giving control over to your pretty corpse.

You were interrupted by a throat clearing above you just as a shadow fell over the two you. Your lips parted from Astarion's as you both looked up, somewhat guiltily.

Lae'zel stood above you, already ready to move on. "Unstick your maws," she ordered with a snort. "We must go." She left as quickly as she had arrived, but watching after her made it clear the rest of camp had also been watching the two of you.

"Maws," Astarion mused.

"She's right," you said, sitting up. "We should get ready."

Astarion caught your hand and pressed a tender kiss to your fingers. "Alright, my love."

The two of you slipped out of the bedroll. You helped Astarion fix his hair, mussed by sleep and your hands, and then the two of you packed up your belongings quickly to catch up with the others. You hadn't realized just how much time had passed while you got lost with him.

"Good morning!" Gale said cheerily, striding over, a twinkle in his eye. "I see Astarion's regained his memory!"

You glanced up in time to see Astarion blush and give Gale the universal look that meant 'shut up' and realized Gale had known all along. When had the two of them gotten close enough for that? Or was Gale just very good at reading people?

"I have," Astarion said coolly, recovering. "Our lovely leader here has filled me in on what happened while I was...indisposed." He looked awkward for a moment, then continued, "I apologize for shooting you, wizard."

"Apology accepted," Gale said matter-of-factly. He lifted his arm to prove it had healed. "No harm done!"

You finished up with your packing. "Where are we off to today?" you asked Gale. "Have the others decided?"

He pulled a face. "Everyone's got their own ideas," he said tactfully. "I think it'd be best if you decided what we handled first."

You sighed. "You mean that Shadowheart and Lae'zel are trying to kill each other, and I have to stop them and take the heat from whoever I piss off more."

Gale winced. "Yes, something like that."

"Alright. I'll be right there."

Gale nodded and started back toward where the others were gathered. You watched him go with a sigh.

"Is that why Lae'zel interrupted us?" Astarion asked. "Because if she thinks that's a way to gain favor, she's most certainly wrong."

You giggled at him. "Did someone want to keep kissing?"

He tried to hold your gaze, but looked away as his ears turned pink again. "Maybe," he muttered.

You kissed his cheek. "Later," you promised. You offered him your hand. "Come on. Let's get this sorted."

"Alright, my love," he said—a new phrase of his, it seemed—and took your hand. For a moment, he just looked at you, like there was something he wanted to say. You paused.

"What is it?" you asked.

He shook his head, a tiny smile on his lips now. "Nothing." You raised your eyebrow. "We'll talk about it later."

You nodded. "Alright."

You walked toward your bickering companions. Lae'zel was muttering about the creche, Shadowheart adamantly refusing not to go, with Wyll and Karlach trying to placate them both. At least those two weren't still at each other's throats.

The minute Shadowheart saw you, she darted over. "We have to get to the Temple of Shar," she started. "We made so much progress before we reached the goblins—"

"Chk! Our top priority should be the creche—"

Shadowheart glared at the githyanki. "We are not going to the creche!"

"We are going to neither place just yet, and you are both staying here in camp until you learn to get along," you said sharply. You saw Astarion smirk out of the corner of your eye. "Gale, Karlach, you'll come with me and Astarion. We'll see how far we can get and make a decision from there."

Karlach pulled a face. "Are you two going to kiss all day?" she complained.

You rolled your eyes. "That depends on how much you annoy me. Now, come on. I'd like to get going. And for the love of all, can we please avoid memory spells?"

Gale bit back a smile. "Are you certain? It seems to me you've gotten something rather good out of it." He glanced down at your fingers, still twined with Astarion's.

You glanced at Astarion. "Yes," you agreed. "And he is enough for me." You kissed his cheek again. For only his ears, you whispered, "I mean that, you know."

He smiled at you. "I know."

"Good," you said. You kissed him quickly.

You waited for Gale and Karlach to get what they needed with your head resting on Astarion's shoulder. You knew as well as any that you were far from steady; you still had much to talk about. You looked up at Astarion and found a far-off look in his eyes, one that looked a little too much like sorrow for your liking.

Astarion's "nothing" was looking an awful lot like "something."

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months

Note

hello! i know there's a lot of jealous astarion x tav stuff out there, but could you do a jealous tav x astarion scenario please? maybe also make it spicy??

Astarion x jealous!reader

There were very few moments for all of you to relax and take a breath these days. With the quakes getting stronger, the cult getting closer, and just Gods knew what else around the corner, it was difficult to find some time to recharge. But, you all always seemed to eventually find the time.

Down at one of the taverns, you and the group decided to break loose and have some drinks for the night. Gale and Halsin didn’t want to come. Halsin still abstain from alcohol, along with his vague comments on ‘past mishaps and making a fool of himself’ (which honestly just made it all the more intriguing), and Gale just wanting to turn in early for the night. With everything going on with Mystra recently, more and more he had been pulling back to think by himself, but assured you he would be himself again soon enough.

Karlach usually tagged along, but just wasn’t feeling crowds at the moment. It would be more strange for Laz’el to come. And Wyll had come for the start of the evening but left after one drink as he was a responsible young man.

All that was left was you, Shadowheart, and Astarion.

“This wine tastes like cat piss.”

“You’ve tasted cat piss?” You clip back. Wittier than usual now that you had a few drinks.

Astarion gave you a dull, “ha ha,” before he got up and headed for the bar to get a different vintner offering from the bar keep. “Maybe I’ll splurge a little a spend a whole 3 gold to get something a little better than the swill the rest of you are used to.”

“How people ever found him charming enough to be lured to their death will always be a mystery to me?” Shadowheart remarked before taking a sip of mead from her cup.

You chuckle at her joke and watch as Astarion made his way to the bar. Weaving in between the crowd like he was made more of mist & air, rather than flesh and blood.

Alone, you and Shadowheart chat quietly at your table before she finished her drink, dabbed her lips, and announced, “I’m going head back and turn in with the others. I trust that you and Astarion will make it back alright on your own?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well…I wouldn’t judge if the two of you wanted to spend sometime alone. We’re usually in such close quarters together that I’m sure it’s hard to be alone with someone special.” You blush at Shadowhearts comment. Not nearly as blunt as Laz’el but also not at all subtle. “Although, perhaps he has other plans for the evening?”

You follow her eyes over to the bar. Finding Astarion instantly, but also the pretty human girl hanging on his every word; and nearly him. Astarion, for his part, not seeming nearly as put off as someone in a relationship should be by her flirtation.

“I’ll take my leave now. I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is turning into. If it turns out for the good, be safe and have fun. If it turns out for the worse, well…try not to get us all arrested by morning.”

She gave a small way and saw herself out of the bar. Leaving you there with your thoughts, warm ale, and a stewing feeling of dread in your gut. You try to calm yourself. But you weren’t exactly the best at tamping down your impulsive thoughts. They had gotten you this far, hadn’t they? Perhaps they could take you a little further as you went up to the bar. “Shadowheart went home.”

Astarion and his new playmate both turn to you in surprise. The former looking genuinely surprised, while the woman looked more annoyed than surprised by your interruption. “Oh. Was she feeling alright? It’s rather early.”

“Yes! The night is still young.” The woman’s hand landed on his arm, and you glare daggers at the spot it landed. Wishing for real daggers. “But, if your friend isn’t feeling well, maybe you should go and check on her.”

She was trying to muscle you out. Eliminate the competition. As far as she knew Astarion wasn’t attached, or maybe she didn’t care, so your presence is an obstacle to her goal of claiming the handsome stranger. You had to admire her boldness. You don’t think you could ever be so confident to just ‘lay claim’ to a man you had only just met and make your stance known. If it had been anyone else she claimed you would have been impressed and supportive. Women helping women. Problem was this was your man and she was competition that needed to be eliminated.

“I think I’m going home too.” You pressed further.

“But I just ordered my wine.” Astarion quipped. Seeming not to get your hint at all. But the woman did.

“Yes. We’ve just freshened our drinks.” The vampire turned his gaze to the woman with a sharp arch of his brow. Clearly communicating ‘who is this ‘we’ you speak of’ with no words at all. “Why don’t you run after your friend and he’ll see you later. Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“Oh….”

“I’m out of here.” You didn’t bother listening to whatever excuse, silken words, or outright lies Astarion was going to tell this hell cat to get out of the hole he just dug himself, but you weren’t interested in watching him dig.

Slamming your empty mug on the counter, you turn and head for the door. Everyone parting ways for you with the mood you were in. The cold air to your face was sobering, literally, and you shrug your shoulders in as you head down the dark streets towards the inn for the night. If you walked fast enough maybe you could actually catch Shadowheart on the way.

“[Y/N]! Wait!”

You turn to look over your shoulder as Astarion called your name. Coming out of the tavern with a skid and dashing over to meet the space between you. “Where are you going? Are you really going to leave?”

“Would you rather I sit there and watch that woman paw all over you?” You jab back. But Astarion didn’t seem wounded.

“Oh that. Yes. Rather forward for a lady wasn’t she?”

“So why didn’t you stop her??”

“I don’t know.” He replied with a shrug. “Old habits.”

You huff and pull your arms in tighter against the cold. Maybe you had been wrong in assuming that Astarion thought of ‘loyalty’ the same way you did. You trusted him with your life, but maybe you couldn’t trust him in a bar. You didn’t genuinely think that he would go off with her, but even the hint of implication made your blood boil. “I get they might be ‘old habits’ but if you could not flirt with people, I would appreciate it.”

A grin slithered up on Astarion’s face. “Are you…jealous, my love?”

“No!” You snap back quickly. But his grin just gets bigger.

“Hmm…I guess it’s understandable. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve started a cat fight in a bar, you know? I just never thought you of all people would be swayed by such petty emotions.”

“I’m going home.”

You turn your back on him again, which was the worst thing to do on a vampire, and you felt him snatch you before you were suddenly in a dark alley all alone together. “I get jealous too.” He told you. Almost like a whispered confession. Able to be quiet now that you were away from the crowd, and the streets, and the noise. “I get jealous seeing you with the others. The attention you give them. It should be for me.”

“They’re just friends.” You whisper back to Astarion. Feeling as if any louder and you’d break this spell between you in the moment. You didn’t know what kind of spell it was, but you were transfixed in it.

“I get jealous of all the strangers you want to help. Literally anyone who needs help, you help them. That big heart. Where will I be, if you keep opening it up to others?”

You gasp when you felt his hand drift over your ‘heart’. “I’ll always have space for you Astarion. You shouldn’t be worried about that.”

“I get jealous of your bedroll.” His words caught you off guard. Almost as much as his teeth at your ear. “Curled up with you. Holding your body all night. Keeping you warm. It should be me.”

“You’ve never mentioned it.”

You can’t feel your breath come out in a little pant as you spoke. Enamored by Astarion and his weight against you and the wall. “We should…find some place private.”

“Here is private.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear his grin and it made your knees quiver. “Someone could see us.”

“No one will see us.” He assured you. “I’ve used this alley before.”

It was probably not the best time to bring up his past conquests when you had just had a conversation about jealousy. Or perhaps it was. Instead of feeling angry like earlier, you suddenly felt the incredible urge to erase every memory Astarion had of this alley, this place, those people, and fill him with only thoughts of you. That there were no other conquests until he claimed you.

Jealousy seemed quite the aphrodisiac. It might not have been the ‘privacy’ Shadowheart had mentioned when she made her comment. But it was fun. And no one got arrested.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate scenarios #bg3 imagine #bg3 scenarios #gender neutral reader

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jaytalking · 13 days

Text

Spoilers for the fop: a new wish ending.

TW for vague-ish allusions to child abuse/neglect

(I've never written for Tumblr before. Go easy on me.)

----

His interrogator is a child.

Timmy had started to think today was just not his day somewhere in between "coming home from vacation to an invaded Fairy World" and "Being captured by anti-fairies minutes away from the chip and tied to a chair with iron chains". Dale Dimmadone and fucking Foop (Irep. Oh who cares.) of all people being his captors had been the confirmation.

Now there's a child with sunglasses scowling at him, and he's just bracing himself for whatever this damn day throws at him next.

"Why didn't you talk?"

Timmy considers the question for about 5 seconds before deciding he doesn't care enough to weave a lie.

"Fairies can't break the rules, not directly. It applies to revealing secrets too, not my fault they couldn't figure it out."

"But you're not a fairy, the nets didn't work on you, only iron seems to have some kind of effect."

He gives the kid a wry smile. "Burning sting" was definitely An effect.

"Not that hard to figure out; once-human, means exactly what you think it means. So yeah, Maybe I just don't want to give that idiot answers, considered that?"

The kid gives him an angry look, Timmy just raises an eyebrow.

"Don't call my dad an idiot. Do you even know who he is? He seemed to know you, that's for sure."

"Did he ever tell you about a lemonade factory? I pulled him out of there, I knew THAT Dale. Whoever the golden-toothed asshole outside is he's not anyone I care to know, that's for sure."

The kid looks somehow angrier, Timmy continues undeterred.

"I do want to know your name at least, I'm getting tired of calling you "kid" in my head."

"You first."

"Smart. It's Timmy, Timmy T-... Fairywinkle-Cosma."

He's not surprised to feel a spark of recognition from the kid, the sunglasses hide his face but for the average fairy any emotion, especially a kid's, is as visible as ever. What he IS surprised to see is a curl of dread.

"Dev. Dev Dimmadone- why don't you just give up? We've got all the fairies under nets, the chip is gone so they can't do magic anyways, and you're in chains with no way to escape. Dad even offered you-"

"There's nothing he could offer that would make me give up on my family."

There's... a picture, that's starting to be painted in Timmy's mind, and he doesn't like one bit of it; Dev must be the kid Irep used to accomplish this plan, there's no other explanation for the kid being here and knowing so much about fairies otherwise. Dev is a Godkid. Dev is Peri's Godkid-

"What about letting your family go? Would that be enough?"

"... You don't know anything, do you?"

He might have put too much venom in those words by the way the kid visibly flinches and goes silent, but in that moment he doesn't care.

"Do you know what happens when a fairy doesn't grant wishes? Their magic begins to build up, bit by bit- it gets harder to breathe, to do anything without feeling absolutely horrible- and then they're gone, just like that. Without the Big Wand, without the ability to grant wishes, that's what awaits all of them- all of US. Your dad is a short-sighted idiot who doesn't realise I'm not exempt from this- so even if I did tell him how to become like me, he'd have the exact same fate. We'd both be dead and the Anti-fairies would have a grand ol' laugh about it."

"Irep-"

"Irep doesn't care about you. I don't give a damn what he told you, but it's obvious he kept you in the dark about basically all of this and now he's off to do the same to Dale. You need to accept you've been used, kid."

Dev is quiet, eyes fixed on the floor. Timmy's anger deflates slightly; the true mastermind here is Irep, he should reserve his anger for him, not for the kid he strung along.

"... He told me it would make him proud."

The question leaves his mouth before his mind can process it.

"Would that be enough? To justify all of this?"

Something has snapped, an echo of the ignored child who wished so badly his parents would pay more attention and was called selfish for it, who lashed out and wanted more, more, and more to fill a bottomless hole in his heart, felt vindicated when the truth was made evident: that love and attention is not a damn privilege, it's the right of any child.

"It wouldn't, and it wouldn't last for long. You know this, we both know this."

Dev is shaking. Timmy clams his mouth shut. He's shaking and his grip on the iron key is tight.

"There's no way they'll forgive me."

And he has to laugh at that, a short burst cut off by the pain of the chains moving and reaching new skin.

"That's the worst part- they always do. And before you even realise you're in the wrong."

#fopanw #batt's writing tag #fop a new wish #timmy turner #fairy timmy #fopanw spoilers #the battle of the big wand #dev dimmadome #dale dimmadome #fop dale #fop dev

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 8 months

Text

MC being a Morally grey menace Part 1

It started on their second visit to the Devildom...

During that first year of the exchange program, Lucifer and Diavolo had gone out of their way to hide the more unsightly aspects of the Devildom. But the second time around, when the human just fell from the sky, they didn't exactly have the time to smooth things over.

And yet, MC hadn't batted an eye.

The first incident was when MC walked in on one of Lucifer and Diavolo's meetings, but they weren't alone.

The low-level demon's eyes lit up, and his expression went from pleading to maniacal. This human was everyone's soft spot, surely the prince and his Lord of Pride wouldn't sully themselves in front of their precious human!

"Sorry, did you two hear that Simeon-? Oi!" MC startled as the demon threw himself at their feet.

"Mercy, dear human! Surely you could find it in your heart to grant mercy to this poor, foolish demon!"

Lucifer stepped forward, but even he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do next, apart from yanking that demon away from his human. Diavolo braced to start explaining why this demon was in his office, clad in chains.

But MC, dear, human, MC who should have damn well had some questions about this impromptu torture session they just walked in on, didn't so much as bat an eye.

Lifting a foot, they took one step sideways out of the demon's reach and carried on talking.

"Simeon wanted to ask you two something, just text him when you're done with...this." They gestured vaguely to the crumpled demon on the floor.

"Please, you CAN'T leave me here!"

MC didn't so much as look at him, making their way back to the door. "Don't work too hard boys! And don't forget you're on dinner duty tonight, Lucifer."

"...Of course." Lucifer watched, wide-eyed, as the human calmly walked out the door. He wondered how much explaining he'd need to do later.

To his surprise, the subject was never brought up, and MC's behaviour was utterly unchanged.

Well...not entirely unchanged.

The following week, a couple of locations to one of the Devildom's most popular chains came up with reports of missing inventory and Grimm coming up short.

A robbery, they didn't know by whom.

That week, MC and Mammon had been joined at the hip, even more so than usual, so out of pure curiosity Satan cornered the human in the morning making breakfast.

"These robberies. You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you, dearest?"

MC shrugged. "Not a thing."

"Truly? Because a rather large sum of grim is now missing, and you've been spending an awful lot of time with Mammon lately."

MC looked up at Satan, and their eyes flashed golden, their grin almost inhuman. "Not like they'll miss it. They're a multi-million grim company that doesn't pay their employees enough to live."

Satan hardly believed his ears. "MC did you-?"

MC chuckled, and went right back to the eggs they were frying. "I don't know what you're talking about, love. Now help me carry these out."

Satan could have asked more questions, hell, he probably should have, but quite frankly, he's more impressed than anything else, and very much wants to know how they bypassed the security systems next time.

Part 2

#obey me #obey me x mc #om imagines #obey me imagines #obey me mc

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nana-au · 1 month

Note

could you write an inumaki smut where reader asks him to use his cursed speech on her>.< BTW I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH ITS SO GOOOOD

haii anon, ur wish is my command! i hope you like the direction i took with this! it starts out dramatic, but i thought it would be fun to have a backstory. sorry if it made it too long tho ;( thank you so much for the request and the compliment! all luv ♡♡♡

𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃

Toge Inumaki ♡

₊˚ପ⊹ summary: you survive an attack by a curse all thanks to your boyfriend, toge, but for some reason you can’t stop thinking about what else his cursed technique might be able to do.

₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: graphic violence, minor character death, angst/hurt/comfort, wet dream, f!receiving oral, f!masturbation, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, stomach bulging, hitting your cervix, creampie

₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: toge is aged up to a young adult (around 20-24) with an established relationship to reader. toge communicates with reader via sign language. i’m a little hesitant to tag this as dom! toge but he gets pretty rough in this. also i gave him a long dick... lol.

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 5.9k+

MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Somehow, someway, you had gone your entire relationship with Toge having never experienced the other part of his life. The part he so desperately shielded you from, only ever vaguely explaining his line of work. The day that all changed, you couldn’t fathom the way things used to be. How you used to leave your house without a second thought and how you weren’t sick with concern when Toge was called away with work.

You remember it like it was yesterday.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

“You want?” he signed to you, eyes crinkling in a smile. Your cheeks flushed realizing you had stopped in the middle of the street to stare inside an arcade. You couldn’t help it when you saw a claw machine from where you two were walking. Your favorite Sanrio character sat pretty inside the glass and Toge, being your doting boyfriend, made it his mission to win it for you.

You two worked together to edge it closer and closer to the shallow drop built into the machine, but it sure wasn’t turning out to be an easy task. You patted him on the back, telling him it was okay if he couldn’t get it – that you loved him regardless for trying so hard. But you should have known better than to say that. He wasn’t going to stop until he had that stuffed animal in your arms, no matter how thin his wallet was starting to feel. Under his thick scarf his tongue stuck out in concentration, studying all sides of the machine before letting the arm down again. It latched, and you two stood still holding your breaths. The claw made its way over to the slot, weakly holding onto the tag of the plushie, swinging it side to side. The both of you leaned impossibly close, not believing what was in front of your eyes. The stuffed animal inched over the plastic edge, putting up resistance and shaking the claw. You gasped, eyes wide as you willed the claw to maintain its strength. Just as it made it over the edge, the claw released and the soft body of your new friend hit the bottom of the slot. You didn’t even have a moment to celebrate when the ground shook violently, screams piercing the air. Your head whipped towards the street, watching as people ran down the street frantically shoving each other while trying to get away from something you couldn’t see. It was mere seconds that you went from standing in front of the claw machine to feeling Inumaki’s strong hands pulling you into him. You met his wild eyes and if you weren’t terrified before, seeing the flash of fear in his face was enough to make your entire body shake. Being a regular human you were completely blind and deaf to the curse just a few yards up the street, screeching and gurgling as it tore through the crowd but from the look on his face you knew. You were terrified, and so was he.

He didn’t find it pertinent to explain in the moment but he had dealt with curses his entire life; he couldn’t feel fear in the face of even the strongest curse at this point, but the knowledge that you were so close to danger had bile burning the walls of his throat. He wasted almost no time dragging you to the back of the arcade and into the ‘employee’s only’ supply closet. If he wasn’t deeply opposed to using his cursed technique on the people he loved he would have commanded you to sit and stay until he came back for you. Instead he signed it, pleading with his eyes for you to listen. You nodded and he squeezed your hand before kissing your forehead. His silent promise he would be back soon.

When soon came and went you began to get antsy. A couple of patrons and employees hid along with you, all of you huddled together in fear as chaos tore through the commercial district. You didn’t dare consider coming out of hiding without Toge’s say-so, and you didn’t for quite some time. But time kept passing with no sign of him or the curse. Not that you could hear it anyways. You held your breath in anticipation, ears focused for any sign of danger. That was when you heard a voice. First it was a couple of faint whimpers that soon turned into desperate screams. The people hidden with you kept still, not daring to find the source of the sound. At first you ignored it, wanting to obey your boyfriend’s simple command meant to keep you safe – but it became too much for you. From her voice alone you could hear how much pain she was in and that being the only noise you heard in a while, it lulled you into a sense of security. Against your better judgment and against what Toge wanted, you got up, softly opening the door of the stuffy closet you were hidden in before crouching cautiously through the arcade. As you got closer to the street you began to shake again. The streets were almost unrecognizable. The decorations you saw not even an hour ago were strewn across the pavement, along with merchandise from various stores and trampled food from the vendors that lined the strip. You even noted how some buildings' entire structures were missing, leaving jagged craters where the pieces of stone once resided. You let out a huff, remembering why you came out in the first place, finally stepping out of the doorless entryway. You peered your head, trying to find the woman you were looking for, struggling to see anyone amongst the ruined street.

It took you a moment, but the sounds of her struggle got louder and louder until you noticed a hand peeking out from some rubble. You got on your knees immediately, clearing the debris around you until her face came into view.

“Oh thank god!” she cried out, relieved to see another human being. “Help me please! I’m stuck,” at her words you began to realize her figure was pinned beneath a large chunk of stone, just barely propped up by another equally large slab, keeping her torso from being completely flattened.

“It looks really heavy,” you responded, barely above a whisper, your nerves still on high alert. “I’ll try my best,” you promised her, not wanting to show how doomed the situation looked from your perspective. You weighed out the option of sitting with her while you waited for help. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you ended up seriously injuring her, but you didn’t want to just give up without trying. You got to work, bracing yourself before using all of your strength against the slab that currently kept her pinned to the ground. You struggled to get the chunk to even budge, a drop of sweat falling from your hairline. The woman began wailing from the realization that your attempt was futile, panic overwhelming her again.

“You can’t get it? Oh god… I’m gonna die here!” her words tore through the air and you leaned in close, trying to shush her.

“I’m trying my best!” you pleaded with her, “please ma’am,” you begged, still scared to speak too loudly. She couldn’t hear you under the loud noises of her own terror, her screeches echoing in the street. Your throat grew dry, desperately trying to plead with the woman to keep her voice down. “Please we have to be quiet,” you begged, tempted to cover her mouth with your palm to keep her voice down. Fat tears dropped on the pavement, her shrill cries only getting louder. “Pleas-” your final plea was interrupted by a wave of hot fluid covering your face. You barely closed your eyes in time before you were covered in the blood of the woman in front of you. Upon realizing the horror of what happened, you saw the creature in front of you; its muscular form shook from the force of its laugh, admiring what it had done. And what it did was jump on the stone, bringing it down onto her body and forcefully crushing her, causing a spray of her blood and guts to cover you and the surrounding area. Staring up at the ugly, bulging figure in front of you, you realized this is what a curse is. Its skin was an unnatural blue. Its eyes – no, single eye, was swollen; covering half of its face. Could you even consider that a face?

It was a creature that had to have been dredged up from the pits of hell and you shuddered at the realization your boyfriend saw this and worse on a daily basis. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were proud and grateful and terrified and about twelve other emotions as you considered the fact your boyfriend did everything he could to keep people like you from ever having to see a face that ugly.

Your vision became unfocused, your entire body frozen in fear as the hideous thing in front of you giggled to itself, blathering complete gibberish while its long arm reached out to you. You would have never assumed yourself to be one to freeze in a near death situation, but you did.

(Looking back you wonder if your body had accepted its fate before your brain did).

You began to understand that you weren’t going to be one of those innocent people Toge saved. The thought of it tore you from the inside, but it wasn’t enough to get your body to cooperate with your racing mind. You were going to die. Brutally and forcefully – and Toge was going to hate himself forever for it.

The curse’s hand covered your throat, its meaty hand squeezing your delicate neck before its movement was cut off abruptly by a booming, “EXPLODE!”

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

That night Toge cried as he cleaned the blood and goo from your figure. His sobs were almost devoid of sound and you weren’t in any state to register the tears that fell from his eyes; but he was as he scrubbed the gore from you. You were in complete shock after the events, hardly registering the warm bath water or the rough washcloth he held in his hand, swiping over the skin of your forehead for the hundredth time. Like he was desperately trying to remove the memory of what occurred from your mind.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

A month passed by and arguing became your new norm with Inumaki. Every time his phone rang indicating a new curse needed to be exercised, (and that happened often), you two went to war; with you begging him to get a new job, and him, insisting that was not an option for him. Your conclusion from the event was that you didn’t ever want him in a position as deadly as facing a curse again. While his conclusion from that day was there were so many yous out there that needed his protection. People were unknowingly counting on him to bring their loved ones home safe. He didn’t want anyone to experience what he almost had. It was pertinent that he save as many people as he could from the grief of losing someone so important.

You just didn’t understand why it had to be your boyfriend doing the saving. It was a selfish thought, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty for thinking it.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

More months went by and the hurricane that was once your relationship had calmed again, and things were as normal as both of you could manage after that day. You two shared snacks while you played Mario Party, laughing together as you both tried your hardest to screw the other one over. Usually to the detriment of each other. After the third game you both managed to lose to the NPCs, silence washed over your living room. Neither of you wanted to acknowledge the fact that silences were no longer comfortable in your relationship.

“You ok?” he signed to you, his brows furrowing, indicating he wanted more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

You take a shaky breath, “I just can’t get it out of my mind..” you begin to trail off and he roughly shakes his head, like he was trying to rid the thought from his own brain. He hated talking about what happened, that being part of the reason silences just didn’t feel the same anymore because you just couldn’t not talk about it. He didn’t expect you to be okay already, but he also wasn’t okay. You two were on opposite sides of the spectrum. You needed the emotional release words brought but he started to suffocate the second those words were out in the air.

You ignore his nonverbal cues to stop, bulldozing through them. “No, Toge, I need to talk about it,” he is still begging you with his eyes to stop but you don’t acknowledge it. “Toge, I’m scared to leave the house!” you don’t realize how loud you are until his usual silence contrasts with your voice. You embrace your negative emotions, only getting louder, “I’m more scared watching you leave!”

“No. Don’t. I’m fine,” his eyes plead with you. You already know you have no reason to fear his safety, especially when compared to yours but your irrational anxiety doesn’t care.

“I’m scared you will leave one day and never come back,” and after you say that your bottom lip begins to quiver and your tears pool at the bottom of your eyes and he’s quick to pull you into his lap; stroking your hair and planting kisses on your temple. He desperately wants to tell you not to worry about him, but it’s hypocritical because he hasn’t let you so much as walk down the block without him. He can’t find the words to comfort you and he’s stuck with nothing else to do but hold you in his arms and wipe your tears as they fall. He pulls back from your embrace to look into your eyes. His eyebrows are drawn up in concern for you, his eyes locking onto yours. Even as you drown in your sadness you can’t help but smile meekly at your boyfriend. You love how expressive his face is and the fact you don’t even need sign language to know what he is thinking and feeling. His sharp jaw is clenched, mouth twitching as he focuses on trying to read your own features. You think what you love even more about his face being an open book is how handsome it is – and how you never want to go a day without seeing it. You lean in slowly, touching your lips to his softly and he responds by pulling you even closer, his palm flat on your upper back. He deepens it, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your plush lips on his. And he’s not the only one thinking about how he never wants to go a day without your beautiful face.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

To say your sex life suffered after that incident would be an understatement. You couldn’t find it in you to even consider something as trivial as sex while you stewed in your emotional turmoil; but as more time passed and the more you recovered the more even the most simple of touches from your boyfriend drove you crazy. His bare knee bumping against yours on the couch as you two played video games together or his hand grazing yours while you two worked together to cook dinner in your kitchen – it all made you mad. You felt like a virgin all over again – it was becoming impossible to ignore the innocent things he did that drove you mad. The mere sight of him stretching, arms raised and mouth in a yawn, revealing the happy trail that sat between his defined v-line – it made you feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time. Even watching the way he ran his fingers through his hair, causing the light blonde tufts to stick up and frame his dreamy face in the morning was enough to spike a high grade fever in you.

It really should have been no surprise to you when you fell asleep one night, only to dream of his blonde tufts sticking out from between your thighs. His tongue languidly lapping at your folds, his eyes never leaving yours.

“F-fuck Toge,” you whimper, his flat muscle pressing deliciously against your clit. Your body shudders from pleasure, thighs threatening to squeeze his head but his strong arms hold them against the bed. His hips rut into the mattress, trying to relieve his aching cock as he sucked your pleasurable little nub, reeling at the cute noises you were making. “God it feels so good,” you sigh, unable to keep your hips still as he continued his attack. You can’t help but grab your tits, squeezing them roughly in your small hands as you run your thumbs over your hardened nipples – tweaking and pulling at them to enhance your pleasure. You forgot Toge was watching you, too caught up in your own little world – so when your hands go back down to grab your sheets you’re shocked to hear his rough voice.

“Keep teasing your nipples,” he begs. Your head lifts from the bed to see the spit and arousal that drips from his chin, his eyes drinking you in. You only have a moment to feel the shock of hearing his voice – realizing you had only ever heard it that day and through your dream state you recognize you don’t have an option not to obey him, hands reaching for your chest again. He goes back to what he was doing, using his flat tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit before flicking the tip of it lightly against your clit. You’re squeezing your nipples, shaking with amplified lust realizing he’s the reason why you’re hands glued to your chest, working yourself up along with his mouth. “Answer me, does my tongue feel good?” and not a second passes before you tell him yes, your chest heaving and entrance clenching, never realizing how much you needed his voice while he’s making you feel this good. You’re still tweaking your nipples, body unconsciously waiting for him to tell you to stop and you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to last when he asks you, “Does my good girl want me to tell her to come on my tongue?” your body alights with intoxicating arousal as you’re telling him yes. It comes out needy and more like a beg and his tongue between your folds becomes sloppy listening to you lose yourself to him. His lips form a seal around your nub, sucking harshly before going back to licking it, speeding up his movements. The entire time his eyes have not left yours but you were so lost in pleasure yours had begun to shut… and Inumaki thought that just won’t do. “Eyes on mine,” you barely have time to process his gruff voice before you obey him, opening your eyes to meet his, half lidded with lust. You bite your lower lip and he grunts into your sopping pussy, the vibration enough to make you want to roll your eyes back but they’re glued to his no matter what.

“I want to grab your hair,” you beg him, hands still working your sensitive nipples, causing you to wince as each pinch reaches deeper and deeper into your core. He pulls away from your lips, taking a moment to kiss the inside of your thigh before giving you permission.

“Go ahead, grab my hair,” your hand flies down to his head, fisting his blond locks and shoving his face into your pussy. He’s back to moaning into your plush lips at your needy actions, trying desperately to ease the pain from his hard on by massaging his hips against your soft mattress. Before long you’re shaking under his tongue and you were gonna come even without his command but dream Toge knew it was exactly what you needed. His lips detached from your sopping cunt, eyes droopy and chest heaving before he whispered, “Cum for me baby,” and your pleasure reached its peak. Fuck that. It reaches the peakest of peaks. You have never felt an orgasm as strong as you do right now. Your hips shake violently at his command, pleasure tearing its way through you, not leaving a single nerve untouched as you come hard. You’re practically crying, your dreamself not sure about the logistics of his technique, but it settles on you not being able to stop cumming unless he tells you to.

You wake up in your own sticky mess, your core still alight from the intensity of your dream while you desperately try to catch your breath.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Thankfully you had woken up in bed alone, giving you ample time to clean up and throw the sheets in the wash. You spent your entire day off in a daze, doing your tasks on autopilot while being unable to stop thinking about the dream you had. You weren’t sure how you were going to be able to look Inumaki in the eyes once he got back from whatever mission he was called to while you slept – and you weren’t sure you would even be capable of ignoring the constant pulsing need once you finally saw his face. You would surely picture the one from your dream, eyes clouded with desire and mouth coated with your slick. You used your hand to fan yourself, your thoughts making you hot all over.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It didn’t take long before you found yourself back in the bed the two of you share. The sheets now fresh and warm as they embraced your naked figure. You found it impossible to ignore the promising call of relief once you finished making the bed – giving in and stripping off your clothes, crawling into his spot. You started slowly, teasing the soft skin of your stomach. Trailing your fingers lightly up and down your taut belly, your muscles stiff with excitement. Your nipples hardened from the cool air and you brought one hand up to rub the peak, remembering the contents of your dream – causing you to sigh listlessly. While your one hand focused on your pebbled nipple your other drifted lower and lower until it reached your soft folds, already damp with your arousal. Your middle digit dipped into your entrance, spreading your slick around and teasing the velvety skin.

You took your time teasing your pussy, working yourself up and disappearing into your own world.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Inumaki wasn’t sure where you had gone when he came back home later that day, slick with perspiration and muscles aching from a hard day of work. He began stripping off his dirt-caked clothes before making it to the bathroom, taking off the remainder of his clothes and stepping into the shower, letting the hot water run down his body. He scrubbed the dirt and sweat from his skin quickly, eager to get out and find out where you went. It was unusual for you not to be in the living room waiting for him and ever since that incident it made him anxious to not know where you were at all times — but he trusted if you left the house you would have told him. You must be somewhere inside.

It didn't take long for him to finish rinsing off the residual bubbles from his body before he grabbed his towel, quickly drying off and stepping out of the tub. He massaged the towel through his locks, shaking off the remaining water droplets hanging from his light blond strands before tying the towel around his waist. Without much thought, he decided to check your shared bedroom first.

He walked down the hall to the door of your shared bedroom, pushing open the cracked door before stopping dead in his tracks – mouth agape at the sight in front of him: Your naked body was splayed out on the plush covers of your bed, eyes closed, and eyebrows drawn up in concentration – fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. His mouth grew dry while he watched you touch yourself – still unaware of his presence. “Toge,” you whimpered out, “Want you to tell me to, mmm-!” your finger curled, grazing against the spongy spot of your pussy, “-tell me to play with my tits again,” you cry out. He almost chokes on air listening to your words, dick tenting in the towel around his waist. His mind races, trying to fathom what you had just said – struggling to focus through the sounds of your wet pussy filling the room.

“Do you really want me to say that?” he said aloud, his throat constricting from the unfamiliar feeling of using his voice around you. He had only ever communicated with you through sign language – far too scared to accidentally hurt you with his cursed technique. But here you were, squirming on the bed while you touched yourself to the thought of him telling you what to do – and it had been so long since he last got to feel your plush walls squeeze around his cock…

Your body jumped in surprise but you didn’t have the chance to do anything other than respond honestly to him, an urgent ‘yes’ quickly leaving your lips. “Toge, I didn’t realize you were home-” you start to explain yourself, embarrassed he caught you as you were wrapped up in your fantasy. You sit up, leaning against your elbows but he stops you by climbing onto the bed – pinning your body between his two arms.

He tries to consider everything he should say to you. If he was in any better of a state he would have stopped what was happening to talk about why it was so important for him to keep his mouth shut. It was pertinent he protected you from himself. As a regular human you had no clue what kind of responsibility he held with his cursed technique. He made a promise to himself that he would never talk outside of his missions. He was too scared to ever hurt someone – or to tell them to do something they couldn’t help but obey by the power of his words alone. It was important for you to realize this; it was also important for him to stop the filthy thoughts swirling around his own mind that made his dick twitch from under the towel. Guilt swirled in his stomach as he pictured exactly what he wanted to say to you – to make you do. If he was in any better of a state the guilt wouldn’t have been clouded by the intoxicating feeling of his need, telling him to do whatever it took to have you.

“Do you really want me to?” he says aloud again, giving you one more chance to think about it before he could no longer hold himself back. Your ‘yes’ was only louder this time, eyes pleading as you shook with anticipation. “Take my towel off,” he says, throat bobbing as he watched you immediately do as you were told. He shuddered at the cool air as it hit his wet tip, precum dripping down the long shaft. He contemplated his next words, debating if he should have you take his cock in your mouth or if he should skip to his favorite part. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you had no choice but to obey. It was disgusting how much he was starting to enjoy this, your eyes lidded with want as you did what you were told. You would have done anything he asked even without his cursed technique – he knew this. That’s why while he felt guilty it wasn’t going to stop him from sticking two fingers into your mouth, massaging your tongue. “Suck my fingers, baby,” your mouth closed on his digits, sucking sweetly on his fingers while he continued to wiggle them around. His fingers began reaching deeper into your mouth – almost touching your throat causing you to gag a little. Regardless, you were still sucking on them with all you had and his hips bucked at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers. But with how sensitive he currently was he knew he wasn’t going to last very long – and your mouth wasn’t the place he wanted to cum in. His eyes wandered down to your cunt, lips slick with your arousal from when you had finger fucked yourself earlier – the skin a little red from your needy actions. Without much thought, he began to stroke his long cock with the hand that wasn’t currently in your mouth, his want growing watching you squirm. He took his fingers from your mouth, moving them down to your left nipple and massaging the bud between his two wet digits. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could stand stroking himself to the sight of your naked body without slipping into your wet folds.

“God yes,” you cried, trying desperately to relieve yourself by grinding against nothing. His hand came down to your hip, using his other to line his cock up to your entrance. He dragged the tip against your folds, spreading your juices around the head of his cock before plunging in. You were incredibly tight even from your warm up, having not taken his length in months. He tried his best to stay still, letting you adjust to the burning stretch but you were so wet and so so so warm, it was hard for him to not bully his way in – he shook from the sheer idea of forcing you to take him as he wanted you to. His eyes were glued to his cock as half of him was buried in your folds, swallowing thickly as he pushed in more and more of himself. You hiccupped, slapping his forearm as a warning that it hurt and he stopped. His eyes met yours and they were just like your dream. Lidded in desire and mouth wet – now from his own spit from constantly licking his lips as he imagined himself tasting you. He hated having to rush things – wanting to do so much more with you but the thought of your pussy twitching on his tongue alone was enough to make him want to bust right then and there. He was swallowing roughly again, concentrating on the task at hand, pushing even deeper inside you. You just about took all of him, but you stopped him yet again and he snapped. Your pussy was sucking him in! Your pretty cunt wanted all of him and who was he to not give her what she wanted? “Take my cock,” he spoke, voice gruff and commanding. He slid the rest of the way in and you didn’t so much as blink, allowing him to fill you up.

“Too big Toge-” you whined, his tip pushing up against the base of your stomach causing you to squirm. His hand came down to feel himself inside you, pushing gently against the bulge.

“D’you feel how deep I am?”

“Yes-” you gasped, “You’re deep! Soo deep,” and he was impossibly deep. He didn’t acknowledge your words, head thrown back and mouth hung open as he started to move – dragging his length slowly out before bullying it back inside. Your ribbed walls squeezed his dick, encouraging him to continue his slow assault.

“Rub your clit f’me,” he choked out, wanting you to get yourself to open up more. To let him in just a little deeper. He knew you could.

You had no choice but to reach for your clit, feeling just below it how his cock was stretching your entrance wide open. You rubbed slow circles on it, gasping at the overwhelming feeling causing your walls to constrict against him. His arms came down to hold your thighs against the bed, wanting to get a good angle of his cock as it disappeared over and over again inside of you. He was in his own world at this point, savoring the way your cunt gripped his cock as you cried out from the stretch. He knew he could manage to go even deeper – if only he had you on your stomach. He pulled out suddenly, flipping you around and pushing your head into the pillows. His strong hands angled your hips upwards towards his own. His right arm slithered up your back before reaching the center, “Arch your back, baby…” you obey him and he’s squeezing your waist, “Good girl. So pretty when you do what you’re told,” he praises you. He’s lining his cock up again, pushing himself in deep without giving you a second to process it. Your soft cries were muffled by the pillows as he had his way with you; pussy being pounded from behind, his balls slapping against your clit as his nails dug into you. “Fuck,” he cursed, dragging out the syllables as the wet sounds of your pussy echoed off the bedroom walls. His thumb began to massage your sides where he held you, forgetting he could use his voice – becoming so pussy drunk he went back to his old way of letting you know he was about to cum. You started to squirm again, prepared to take his hot load while not far off from your own release. You could tell he was getting closer and closer. He began to whimper and his cock couldn’t help its occasional twitch as it pounded over and over again into your cervix. “C-cum with me, please,” he begged, unknowingly forcing you over the edge. He was far too lost to realize what he had done but it didn’t matter at that point as you two reached your peaks together. His cum coated your walls – rope after rope shooting into you, his cock pushing it deeper and deeper as he fucked you through your peak. You had a similarly blinding orgasm from your dream, squirming and bucking your hips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cried out into the pillow. Your pussy clamped down hard on him, squeezing and releasing as you had no choice but to experience the best climax of your life. He leaned over your figure, brushing your hair off your back as he kissed your neck, your slick and his cum slipping out as his cock began to soften inside of you. You were still whining, unable to stop the intensity at which you were cumming. His hands ran soothing patterns on your back as you completely collapsed into the bed – twitching against the sheets until you finally felt it subsiding. Slowly but surely you came down, your chest heaving as Toge peppered you with kisses.

“That was okay. Right?” He asked you in sign language – going back to his preferred method of communication with you. You nodded, a smile working itself onto your face as you began to giggle.

“That was … incredible,” his eyes scrunched up, chuckling along with you, pulling you into his naked chest and holding you tight to him.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It had been a long road before things had gone back to normal with Inumaki. Even so – not everything was the way it used to be, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You two learned a lot from the aftermath of that day; including just how powerful his words could be.

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Wild Love 🔞

A simple taste is not enough.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Smut, Tentacles, Knotting, ridiculous amounts of cum, very messy ordeal, it starts soft but gets a little rougher at some point, unprotected sex but it's not mating season so no babies, implied breeding kink?, biting, he's a growler oop

Length: 2k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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You and Jungkook love to sleep close, especially now that it's gotten even colder in this part of the galaxy.

He's not put in a proper heating unit simply because he enjoys you seeking his warmth- it makes him feel needed, and he enjoys having you close, especially at night, when he can find a reason to undress down to nothing but undergarments beneath the heavy blankets, to have more skin-on-skin contact and better share some warmth.

He's seeking something else- but he's not quite sure how to tell if you're ready for that, too. At least he wasn't, until now.

It started with normal kissing- something he really likes, but it developed into something a lot more heated now. You're beneath him, his body having changed his position by now, hands next to your face as he licks after your tongue, soft sighs escaping you. He's growing increasingly aroused from this alone, and he doesn't have to wonder if you feel the same. Your smell already fills his entire room, and it's only worsening his growing need to be even closer to you.

He wants to claim you, ruin you, so that you cannot ever even think about anyone else but him.

He wants you for himself, but not with force. He wants you to want him all on your own.

His slightly moving hips stutter the second your fingers find the distinctive two bumps on his skin, your fingers curiously feeling around, before something appears to be growing from the spots. It clearly catches you off guard for a second, especially when those two unfamiliar appendages travel over your thighs, and begin to map out your physique it feels like. "They're harmless." He tells you, having noticed your attention shifting to them. "They.. simply assist." He offers vaguely, and you nod, accepting it fully.

You've never really looked up any of.. well, that, so you're not really sure what to expect. All you do know is that you love him- and that you want him, all of him. You trust him.

So when he rids you of your flimsy top and underwear to discover what's beneath, you're surprisingly calm. This is him, after all- you're safe with him. And he especially gives you exactly that feeling when he leans down to brush his lips over your collarbone, an odd purr accompanying his breathing as he holds onto your body, finally revealing what you've been hiding underneath all those layers of clothing. He wants to see it all- feel it all.

But not in that simple manner, pure lust and nothing else. He doesn't just want to satisfy some urge- he wants to do much more than that.

One of his appendages strays away, moves over your center, and it's clear that you enjoy the feeling of it. He himself enjoys the sight, your eyes barely opened, body relaxed as leave your physical form purely in his hands.

He's seen it before, and yet, it's entirely different now that it's you he's got positioned like this.

He can't be too rough, can he? You're delicate, fragile, he doesn't want to hurt you and yet, you've also proven to be much more than just what you appear to be. Your body is stronger than one might believe, and your mind has even greater strength.

Full of surprises. But right now, he wants you to be full of him.

With himself technically not in mating season, there's no amount of his translucent white that could ever put a child into your womb- and maybe that's for the best. That doesn't mean that he doesn't find the act of it any less appealing however, the thought alone making his painfully erect length jump in anticipation.

That, and the sight of your bare body squirming, small cunt stretched by one of his appendages that's abandoned its natural instinct to hold you close to his pelvis- instead now pushing inside you as far as it goes, bulging up your lower stomach, moving rhythmically to the beat of your heart pumping. Your back arches, spine curving off the bed, and his hands can't help but trace your sides, always seeking you out.

And he watches, mesmerized, how you writhe around like a higher being not meant to be seen by someone like him, while his palms grab at your soft chest, skin warm and inviting, and it feels forbidden.

But you're his, his bite, his marks, his love prove it to everyone, and he'll renew these things over and over again so no one can ever tell him he's not taking you seriously. You're more than a lover, more than a body, more than just a companion.

His second tentacle unravels from your thigh now as well, leaving a trail of arousal behind, before it runs over your clit, uneven texture of it causing your hips to jump and mouth to open. His mind fills with thoughts and fantasies even more obscene than what's happening right now-

But he's got time for that. Maybe one day he'll feel your mouth wrap around him.

Right now, he's growing impatient, he wants more, wants to see your core stretch open on his cock instead, wants to see your body shake with every thrust he delivers. What are you doing to him? This is a simple act of lust, and yet, it doesn't feel like it.

Nothing about this is simple.

He wants to ruin you, exhaust you, fill you up with his seed and let your skin soak up his scent. You deserve the best moment of euphoria he can give you, because your pleasure is his.

He's not like the rest of his kind, after all.

He wants to fuck you stupid until your head is filled with nothing but him, so you'll get a taste of the torture you've put him through. Only if he makes you understand the sheer primal need he's been suffering through these past few days will he finally be able to accept your love to its fullest, only then can he be sure he's really the best fit for you. He's already shown you most of what his love can be-

Can you handle this kind of love as well?

From the sinful dreams you've clearly been having these past few nights right next to him, to the shameless acts of pleasuring yourself underneath the shower, leaving behind only your scent as evidence, never seeking him out until now. Have you wondered how much self control he might have? He's got a lot, but even someone like him has limits.

Your constant affection and confessions of love have made him dizzy, after all.

His hands pull the tentacle out from inside you, leaving you gaping, core aching to be filled again- and of course, he will do just that. When his length enters you, you feel something odd- but you cant question it, as his hips push inside you as far as he goes, growling into your neck as you clench around his cock. "You're truly meant for me, aren't you?" He hums into your skin. "Taking me so well, hm?"

You can't answer. All you can feel is him.

His appendages hold onto your thighs, keeping you connected to him as he thrusts into you. No coherent words exit your mouth any longer, a hand moving from your throat up to have his thumb trace your bottom lip that he's kissed bright red. What he doesn't expect is your lips wrapping around the digit, tongue tracing it in a way that gives him a clear understanding of what you're offering-

and he wonders. Maybe you're not as delicate as he thought you'd be.

Slowly, you move your legs, folding them towards you, his tentacles moving as well to hold them for you, since his body clearly reacts to the new feeling of it all, gaze focused on the slight bulge forming every time he pushes inside you. His palm runs over the spot, eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. "Tiny cunt can barely take me, hm?" He teases, and it's odd hearing him talk like that for once. "Gonna fill you up till you're full of me." He growls, moving to push his knees into the mattress below, pushing against the backs of your knees to angle himself better, pace picking up in speed.

You don't care anymore about the sounds leaving your lips. Your eyes won't focus on anything, closed in bliss as his ribbed tentacle runs over your core, the other one reaching to circle over one of your bouncing breasts. It's so much at once, and it feels like your entire brain is short-circuiting in the best ways possible.

You're blissfully unaware of your release staining the sheets and his skin, as he becomes erratic, chasing his own release, before he pushes in deep, both of his appendages tightening around your legs to keep you as closely attached to Jungkook's pelvis as comfortably possible.

You feel his cum filling you, so much so that it makes you nervous- because he seems to.. grow inside you?

"You're okay.." He reassures you, leaning over you as he notices your slight distress growing, lips kissing the side of your neck and cheek. "You're doing so good.." He praises, and it makes you relax a bit as you try and even out your breathing, one of his hands between the two of you, toying around with your highly sensitive pearl. He seems to know what he's doing, making you riled up once more as he keeps your mind occupied for the duration that his knot will keep him stuck, cum already seeping out in some spots. He can feel it.

His bites at your skin are more gentle now, not as desperate as he keeps himself inside you, more and more of his release slowly spilling out as he softens, your orgasm leaving you breathless as you become limp beneath him. Like little lovebites, he keeps himself close to you, his extra appendages retracting, his primal urges now satisfied, only thoughts remaining being those of caring for you now that you're so vulnerable.

His arms hold you as he moves around, carrying you towards the bathroom where you're sat in the open shower area, back leaning against the wall. He's careful to clean you up with gentle hands, never letting you out of his sight even way after you're already rolled up in towels like a human burrito, sitting patiently, sleepily, on a chair in his room, watching how he makes the bed once more, new sheets and blankets set out for you both to sleep in comfortably.

He's awfully quiet after the whole ordeal, but you know he's still awake, his hand never stilling as it brushes over the naked skin of your arm, up and down.

"What's wrong?" You wonder quietly, and he sighs, leaning closer to have your head lean against his shoulder, your legs thrown over his underneath the heavy blanket.

"…was that.. okay?" He asks, worries almost. "I got.. a bit lost at some point. I'm sorry for that." He apologizes, fingers tracing the clear bitemarks near your neck.

"It was perfect, don't worry." You giggle, relieved that it's nothing too serious. "I would've told you. Promise." You reassure him, and he nods.

"Please do." He urges softly. "I'd hate hurting you, even just by accident." He confesses, and you lean in to peck his lips.

"Don't worry so much." You tell him. "You'll always keep me safe." You remind him, and he nods, pulling you a little closer before he adjusts the blanket over your body.

"I will." He tells you. "Forever."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook drabble #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

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h5eavenly · 3 months

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blank canvas — park sunghoon. ➢ one - run your hands over me. ➢ mlist.

— when black and white sorrows loom on your life park sunghoon - a man with a cruel heart and destructive hands manages to color your days with splashes of rainbow. at least at first. wc: 17k

'They say there are two types of people in this world. The type to have big dreams, ambition. Ego so high up enough to touch the clouds but they lack potential. They think of themselves higher than they actually are. Then there's the second type of people. The ones with potential to rule the world. Get anything they can but they lack the desire, the drive–'

You feel a tap on your shoulder purloining your attention away from the broadcast reverberating through your ears, you take one of your earbuds out. Facing the person who just touched you. It’s an old lady, with thinning gray and a freight of years upon years accumulating in the wrinkles gracing her face.

“Oh my!” she speaks with as much enthusiasm as age in her face “you’re absolutely beautiful sweetheart!” adulation flow from between her lips as easy as the droplets of rain falling from the sky, it has your cheeks marring in red with embarrassment.

“Thank you.” you reply, tone laced with transparent diffidence, enough for her palm to cup your cheek in mystifying warmth. It’s in the heat radiating off her hand, in contrast with the freezing weather.

Adoration colors her gaze as if you were truly the most appealing looking person she had to pleasure to witness in a while, and you could only duck your head in bashfulness. Burying it in the heat of your scarf as she coos over you.

"Ah!" The old lady speaks up, eyes widening as she brings her palm to her lips as if she just remembered what she came here to say in the first place "I think you missed the last bus already." A frown climbs its way up over features, taking over the redness adorning your cheeks and the tip of your nose as you check your phone for the time.

4:35 pm

31st December

"It's not even 6 yet." You mutter. More to yourself but she catches it "I guess they're cutting them short because of the rain." You make a sound of comprehension. Eyes fliting to the graying skies, it has been raining heavily for the last two hours and you have been so immersed in your broadcast, you only realize now that you’ve been waiting at the bus ride for close to thirty minutes. The old lady leaves you with a smile sent your way, doused in affability akin to the truant sun. As you put your earbuds back on, you suck in a deep breath.

Inculcating yourself for what’s about to come, using your bag as leverage to shield yourself from the rain, you hold it above your head as you start running out of the bus stop.

'– But you know? There is a third type of people. That is hidden. Vaguely, we know of them. We know they exist but we're hardly aware of them. Even though they're the most destructive. Those type of people that take everything they want in sight, it doesn’t matter if they worked hard for it. If they had potential, if they thought lowly or highly of themselves. They consume everything they get their hands on. Even humans–'

You huff with overflowing exasperation, turning off the dumb podcast and shoving your phone in your pocket. Your attempts at being productive and listening to something that could feed your soul have failed miserably by now. More so it doesn't seem like you'll be able to get to work in this kind of weather. You blame it on the fact that you don’t own a tv - Or truthfully you own one. It's an old rusty thing that you stole from your grandma's house before moving. It barely works so how were you supposed to know such cruel weather was waiting to unfold?

Or at least those are the excuses you feed your brain as you stumble in the closest building that comes to view, droplets of water trickle down the side of your face as you look around. Turns out bags does little to zero coverage from rain.

With another look around, you realize you had walked into an old museum, with the rain remaining unforgiving with the way it pours you decide to take a stroll around the neglected building. Barely hanging on by the few devoted people who probably deemed this place cozy enough to call it comfort. pausing for no longer than a minute on some of the gold and silver artifacts probably turned in by struggling artists. There’s a layer of dust collecting on some of the pieces, albeit your lack of understanding for art - the closest you’ve been to art was when in elementary school, drawing with crayons and showing it to your parents. Seeking praises, you never actually got- the sight of abandonment sheathing this place throws you into commiseration for it.

You would have believed this museum was forsaken if not for the employee chewing his gum in the corner and scrolling through his phone mindlessly.

You amble your way through a couple of paintings, pausing by a few to scour through your brain for your own elucidation that is probably nowhere near what it means. You linger by one that seems to seize your fascination for longer than the preceding ones.

Your eyes flicked across it, it was a painting of a woman’s naked body that’s facing away, with deeper and lighter hues of flesh, her face was ablaze with shades of flames. For a quaint reason it stirs a sense of disturbance within you. holding your gaze captive in an unsettling matter yet you can’t pinpoint why.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" An audible gasp slips past your lips, snapping you out of a daze and has you jolting in surprise.

Your eyes shift, flitting to whoever spoke to you and in mere moments you’re rendered mute. Every single word flees your mind leaving it blank. As you behold the embodiment of the snow on a human’s skin, the darkness of the night in his hair every single piece of art in this building dims in comparison.

You marvel at a beauty that feels so implausible to belong to a mortal.

“I wouldn’t know.” You clear your throat.

The stranger – clad in everything black from head to toe with faultlessly styled hair only tilts his head at you, something parallel to curiosity flourishes in his eyes, taking a few steps to close the distance between you two.

“How come?” His voice is low, like the feeling of a cool breeze dawdling past you amidst summer. His words dripping with softness, akin to the scent invading your space. Something heady and sweet yet you can’t seem to put your finger on what does he exactly smell like.

“I don’t understand art enough to appraisal it.” You reply, your eyes shifting back to the painting.

“Who says you need to understand art to form an opinion on it?” He asks and you swallow around nothing, eyes fleeting to his- they’re almost as dark as his hair- for a second only to find him already staring at you. The right side of your face burns with his intensity.

“I just think it’s a little ridiculous for someone ignorant like me to say anything about someone’s hard work.”

“But we all view things differently, no? We all have our different version of the world. It doesn’t take away from anyone’s hard work.” He responds and surely it is more than enough for you to consider his words, finding candour in them. You eye the painting meticulously.

“I think it’s sad.” You say after a while, slicing into the thick silence and from the corner of your eye, you see him turning to face the piece of art as well.

“Why do you think so?”

“It almost as if your thoughts are too overbearing to the point where they take over you. and then before you realize it you lost sight of yourself.”

An eerie silence fills the space between you, it stretches long enough to have you growing unnerved. You wonder if your thoughts are comical to voice. Maybe you just embarrassed yourself in front of the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Stealing a glance at him only to find his gaze already set on you yet again, the same sense of disturbance crawls over you once again, your heart starts beating rapidly.

“That’s interesting.”

“You don’t think it’s stupid?” You breathe out and his brows raise slightly upwards in what seems to be astonishment, it is the first display of emotions he unveils.

“Your words? Not at all.”

“Even though you found it beautiful and yet I can’t seem to find the same beauty in it?”

There’s a pause in the space between you two, his eyes prance over your features, and you fall into the same confusing haze as to why your heart starts picking up speed, as if tranced you cannot seem to look away from him. Your cheeks glow pink under the deliberation of his stare.

“We all have different versions of the world. It’s only fair we find beauty in contradictory aspects.”

You fail to find words to push out, stumbling into another silence. You find enough blame to place on the way he makes you feel, somehow you don’t feel the apprehensiveness that usually comes upon meeting strangers for the first time, instead it feels like finally stumbling upon a piece of paper you have lost track of a long time ago.

It’s uncanny, you and his harrowing glances that cut through you as if he knows the contents of your mind, as if he sees you.

“Do you think you’re beautiful?” he asks and you almost scoff at how ludicrous his question is, looking at him only to realize the seriousness clinging to his features. Pushing you further into confusion.

“I’m not sure what I think.” You say, softly. and his lips tilt upwards with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“How peculiar.” You don’t get to ask him what he means before he’s speaking again “You’re prettier than any of the paintings hanged on these walls.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart beats as if a hundred birds are trapped inside and they’re dying to be set free. Woven with unfathomable desolation.

You have always lacked resilience, a few words of adulation are more than enough to have you melting, there’s ample room in your heart to take claim over the sweet words, for your eyes to soften.

Yet you deem yourself demented with groundless thoughts provoked by him.

Your encounter with the man lingers in your head yet more than anything his eyes stay with you the longest.

They looked so empty.

"Good evening sweetheart." the sweet tone of none other than Yang Taeyeon rings in your ears and through the small store with familiarity, forcing a smile upon your face that was inundated with fatigue mere moments ago.

A mother with two children who has been coming to this small store ever since you could remember. A week doesn't pass without her stopping by. Sometimes to buy bandages for her acholic husband who loves getting into fights. Other times she's buying necessities with the little money she could keep from her three jobs. Her life is another sorrowful story that’s twined into the streets of this neighborhood.

"Hello, how are you doing today?" you ask, tone gentle and polite as you help her empty her basket.

"I'm good darling. How have you been? You're looking a little pale." She responds, eyes etched with worry as they rack over your face.

Worry. It’s an emotion you’re so accustomed to getting by now. However, with her It's more than just petty wrapped with worry. She’s the third person to have told you today and your smile only ceases to flatter for a moment.

Truth is sleep hasn’t found home in you for a couple of days now. It’s a proclaimed miracle If you manage to get three hours of sleep that isn’t disturbed by unsettling nightmares. You’d like to blame that damned painting. It only started after your visit to that shitty museum.

You start scanning her things from canned beans to random bags of chips that are probably for her kids, you try to make it quick guessing she's probably rushing somewhere after this. It's how she always is.

"Yes, I've been very we–" you’re cut off by her worn out hand circling your wrist stopping your movement and when you look at her, questioning. She wears a deeper distressed expression.

"Oh my. You have grown so weak. Have you been eating, at all?" This time your smile crumbles, and you don’t react fast enough to keep it.

"I am very healthy don't worry. Exams season just ended so perhaps that's why." You reply with practiced excuses flying your mouth, you hope it’s big enough of a barrier for her not to notice the trembling of your lips.

Freeing your hand gently from her grip and resuming your work, you hope she doesn’t notice the pitiable fragility of a human that still coats you, your words are always colored in loneliness and an imbecilic need for someone to ask, to care. You miss the way her eyes linger on you in exactly that.

"You can have this." She tells you after you helped her put all her groceries into bags. Extending her hand out to you with a homemade sandwich in it. A warm smile sent your way is enough to have you vacillating.

Wondering how she manages to stay as warm as summer despite the number of betrayals she has been through, pain cladding every atom of her being and yet she manages to still be so kind. Alongside your perplexity, an odious feeling of envy blooms within you.

How lucky her children are. To have such a warm-hearted mother.

"I'm fine," you wave your hand dismissively "Please do not worry yourself-" you don’t even get to finish before Taeyeon is shoving the sandwich into your palms. Refusing to take no as answer.

"Thank you for everything, sweetheart." With another warm smile, she packs her four bags of groceries and leaves.

Perhaps you’ve had a rough week, the walls of your apartment have added a magnitude weight to your already dreadful despondency, as you stare down at the sandwich in your hands an uncanny urge clamber over you. To get out of here. To quit this stupid job, quit school. You were never lucky, but if you could get away, somewhere far away or maybe not even that far.

Maybe you could stop by the sea and cry your eyes out for a while. Spill your agony to the waves and abandon all your burdens into the unknown.

And maybe then just then you could be reborn as a different person. Was it a foolish yearning to have? To be someone else, someone who’s not this being seared with indelible scars?

Your questions, as always, stay unanswered as you pack the sandwich away and continue going through the dreadful hours of your shift.

It's when the clocks hit 10:30 pm that your stomach starts rumbling in hunger. A light humming noise fills the store as you plopped your sandwich into the microwave. Your fingers drumming against the counter as you look out the glass. Your eyes dance across the empty streets. It’s usually super slow at this time of the night, the store empty of customers and darkness fills the neighborhood. Streetlights flickering on and off, remaining brushed aside, not worthy enough to be fixed.

Off

On.

A figure materializes on the sidewalk, as if they emerged from utter nothingness or magically brought forth from darkness, blending in with the night clad in black from head to toe. The drumming of your hand pauses, you can barely see anything from the distance, yet a daunting emotion slithers down your spine, evoking a shiver from you as if the person is looking straight at you.

You wait, brows furrowing together as unspecified anxiety manifests within you, working at a small convince store in one of the most impoverished neighborhoods in the city have made you tolerant of such disquiet. So, waiting for danger to unravel is more of a habit now. It’s only natural that you linger with unwavering gaze on the figure, with hope for them to do anything and help deny the looming thoughts that they're looking at you.

Beep Beep Beep!

Your body jolts in surprise, hand shooting to your heart in panic to calm the increasing speed, you turn to face the microwave.

'I'm imagining things' you keep repeating to yourself.

The sandwich is still semi cold, so you start the microwave again giving it another ten more seconds.

The figure across the street has not moved an inch when you turn to face them once again. Telling yourself you’re being paranoid. That the enervation of the week is probably catching up to you, alongside your cruel nightmares, it’s added fuel to your anxiety. So, you try to ignore it, trying your best to act normally. Chewing on your sandwich once it’s done, forcing your eyes to focus on the screen small tv hung up in the corner, trying to find your interest in the news despite your mind protesting.

in a somber irony the news are talking about two gruesome crimes that the police believe are linked together, with anarchic deliberation you manage to catch a couple of things that are being said, something about dismembering body parts. With a swallow you turn the tv off with too much of a force.

Instinctively your eyes travel back to the sidewalk, the light flickers on to life and the figure is still there. A chill has the hairs on your arms arising, somehow the panic in you is amplified sending your fingers into a tremble. Your eyes flit to the clock hang on the wall for a second, it’s five more minutes until your shift ends and this person won’t move.

You grow agitated, chewing on your nails as you look back at the figure. And you watch, from a distance as they slowly raise their hand, your heart hammers against your chest, crippling anxiety taking over you when the person holds their palm up and then, they wave. Tilting their head to the side.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, legs shaking with actual fear at the realization that you were not imagining things. They were looking at you all along and now they’re fucking waving at you.

Oh my god they’re waving at you.

Amidst your raising perturbation, you grasp that you need to do something. You don’t feel safe and calling the police is the first option that comes to mind but what would you even say? There’s a weird person waving at me from across the street? And knowing the time that they would take to come to such a disreputable neighborhood? You’d be dead by then.

Maybe you should call someone. One of your friends? Someone can come and pick you up. But what if they take too long? The what ifs are almost endless as they come to your mind like crashing waves. You’re fully panicked now, chewing on your nails ferociously.

You look back at the figure, gaze hardened into a glare despite your petrified state. In your mind it might be enough to scare them away. A big truck passes by, beeping its horn and blocking your vision from the sidewalk. You wait for it to pass, as soon as the street comes back in view it's empty. The figure is nowhere to be seen. It's like they disappeared with the truck or with the wind. You blink multiple times, as if your mind had started playing tricks on you and yet the streets remains empty.

What the fuck

With shaky legs you grab the bat the store owner had placed for you -just in case things got rough one day- he had told you.

You walk out of the store, crossing the street with a jog, right to where the person was standing. The streetlight flickers for a split second on and off. Only enough for you to notice the small pool of liquid on the ground but it's too dark to tell exactly what it is. You squat down, placing the bat next to your feet. With furrowed brows your curiosity drives you to touch it with your finger. Bringing it to your nose, you grimace at the strong smell of metal.

A whirlwind of images flashes in your mind at an agonizingly familiar scent.

The light flickers back on and your eyes widen. Your stomach starts turning and turning in nausea, you feel the sandwich you just had come up. Bringing your palm right upon your mouth with a wrinkled nose, you attempt to push the feeling away. But your body shakes violently and you’re about to throw up.

It was blood.

You are panting, tears cling to your eyelashes in plaintive attempts to keep pieces of you together. As if you’re gonna end up falling apart if just one slips. You’re leaning your head against the wall, the cold bathroom floor makes your body shake, or perhaps it's because you just threw up violently not even two minutes ago. Your stomach aches in horrible pain, throat dry.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and trying to simmer down your shaking. before reaching in your pocket for your phone. Scrolling through your contacts you stop at the name you were looking for. Immediately pressing the call button, you wait.

"yn?" His voice comes like waves of comfort washing over your body. For a mere moment, you’re okay. Breath’s steadier, they flow through your body easier now.

"Jaeyun," your voice is groggy, a giveaway of your distress that you cannot be witnessed with. Clearing your throat, you attempt to speak again "Can you p-please pick me up? I just finished work-"

you hear shuffling on other line, the sound of sheets being tossed like he's getting out of bed and culpability stirs within you. Knowing he was probably sleeping, and your call had woken him up.

"Are you okay?" He asks, voice heavy with sleep and you suck a deep breath in. contemplating on how to exactly answer him. Jaeyun was one of the few people you never seem to hide from. The truth spills from your mouth involuntarily.

"I'm okay," you attempt to reassure him "B-but please can you pick me up?" you ask, tone low with heedless reluctance.

You hear more shuffling on the other line, the sound of Jaeyun getting dressed and your heart is cradled with warmth at his unyielding care. With no questions directed at the obvious shakiness in your voice.

“I’m on the way yn, alright?” your tears come back faster than you anticipated, it has you biting on your quivering lower lip “alright? Need to hear you say it yn.” he asks again, and you nod your head ceaselessly.

“Okay.”

As soon as Jaeyun hangs up, you pull your knees to your chest and bury your head in them. Your shoulders hang heavy, as if the freight of the world’s anguishes deliquesces upon your flesh, encumbers them. Your stomach is constricting with pain and the same sickening nausea is building again. You can still smell the blood in your nose, as if you’re drenched in maroon.

The scent always sends you back to the same place, a reoccurring purgatory, where you’re sitting with your head in your knees just like right now. You’re covered in bruises and blood and the very same irritable nausea is evident there too. You’re too feeble, covered in mistakes and the indignation of your parents. Their arguing is a dull noise in the background, tear streaks are an eternal trace upon your cheeks.

You’re reprimanding yourself because you need to patch yourself up, you need to grow up. stop being such a spoiled kid. Just like how your mother always told you. And you try to listen. To obey, you try so hard to be good, you want to be good.

But the smell of metal is unbearable. As if it’s seared on your being, as if it’s a layer of your skin and no matter how many times you wash up, it’s burned into you.

You feel the cut on your knee bleeding, the liquid trickling down your leg.

Blue

Violet

Red

It’s all an interchangeable loop that you cannot seem to break free from, a curse that has been set on you the day you took your first breath in. torment runs through your veins and you’re nothing but a slave with an open chest. Accepting your fate is the only way. It’s in the way it all makes itself known to you, the option of running away, breaking free slips further away with your multiplying tears. It’s in the violent shudders wracking your body as you empty your stomach for the second time.

You sit on the floor of your parents’ dirty old bathroom floor, crying with crippling affliction and bleeding out with declaration of their callousness.

Nothing has seemed to change. Life always finds a way to cackle sardonically at you. You’re an adult now. Nowhere near your parents so how come you keep feeling like you never stepped foot outside that bathroom? How come every waking moment is haunted by the ghosts of your past. They’re vicious, with claws around your throat. The poison had long seeped in.

You cannot escape.

"Yn!" With that familiar voice you’re snapped back to your reality.

You look at the floor beneath you. And it’s dirty- disgusting really but it’s not your parents’ bathroom floor. There are no loud voices or shouting and yelling. There's just the sound of the sink running and It's just you.

You’re not hurt. You’re not a kid.

You make an attempt to stand up. Your body is still feeling a little weak and sluggish. Using the wall to support your weight, you take small steps towards the sink and close the running water. You hear footsteps growing closer and closer. But at this moment in time, you are not panicked. Instead, relief washes over you when the door opens and it's Jaeyun.

With eyes colored in concern he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“yn,” he breathes out and you hug him back.

"I'm okay, Jae." You assure despite how your words flow out weak and choppy. Jaeyun squeezes you in his arms tighter.

Almost like you’ve been lost for years, and you’re finally found. You feel the same in a way.

When he pulls back his palms cradle your face gently, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds and when he doesn’t find any, his brows furrow in confusion. You wonder what kind of panic you caused him.

"What happened?” he asks.

"Nothing." You answer, averting your eyes. afraid they will betray your wounds, display that your scars remain on your soul rather than your body.

Jaeyun doesn’t pressure you or ask you for anything further. With a tender smile he nods, because he always knows.

He helps you out the bathroom, hand on your waist in all too similar sentiment. And as he helps you collect your stuff, even closes the store for you, you find yourself being lulled into a comfort that only radiates from him. A too striking familiar of a scene as he helps you into his car, helping you put your seatbelt on with gentle touches, tender glances at your face.

It's all too sweet, a too striking familiar scene of what you guys once had. When you were his and he belonged to you. The world had stilled for a short while. The loop of agony paused, tricking you into a joy that was never meant to last. Because everything that ever belonged to you was only meant to fall apart, you were never foreordained to be a survivor.

You collapse each time, left behind to pick up the fragments of you. Always abandoned.

The drive to your apartment is silent, albeit Jaeyun glances being thrown at you occasionally, you keep yours stuck on the window. Watching as the world passes you by.

"We're here." he declares, coming to a stop in front of your apartment complex. You let out a breath.

"Thank you." you reply, looking at him with a forced practiced smile.

His eyebrows furrow and your smile only stretches wider, futile tries to hide.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" He asks with concern laced in his voice that you turn a blind eye to. You’re starting to feel choked up with the storm of emotions you went through tonight and right now you want nothing but to go inside your apartment, maybe have a good cry then sleep it all away.

"Yes."

You watch with confusion as he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, inching closer to you. Inadvertently you lean back, your back hits the door and when his hand finds your thigh, he squeezes, your body trembles with a slight jump.

“Sorry.” He mummers awkwardly, taking his hand off.

"It's okay. I'm just shaking because it's probably cold outside." You say softly. And his eyes find yours with evident brittle emotions swimming in them.

"yn." He calls for you like he used to. With a voice as sweet as honey and deeper than oceans. You’re taken aback to when there was a sparkle between you, before he burned you with it.

Your eyes fall shut and this time his hand finds your cheek with a caress, you let him. Your heart doesn’t skip beats the same way it used to, in an ironic way it’s only a reminder of the ashes left between you two. You feel his breath hit your face, and when you open your eyes, he’s so close, your melancholy is tempting you to give in.

"What are you doing?" you whisper, shaking your head. He ignores you, his other hand sneaking to your waist and you attempt to back away even more in the cramped space.

"We can't do this Jaeyun." You stop him with a hand to his chest, his heartbeat reverberates against your palm.

"Why not? I still want you." His confidence makes you waver. The ache in your chest tells you it will only ever be soothed by the touch of his lips, yet you find yourself unable to give in, avoiding his gaze as your eyes fall upon your lap. An unwieldy silence swirls in the air yet again. He takes it as sign to back off, his hands leaving your body alongside his warmth.

"Why did you call me?" He asks after a while "Why did you call me out of all the people you know?" You know exactly which answer he's looking for and if you were somewhere else. Somewhere where you felt like you could belong to him. Like he could heal all the wounds you believed he would maybe you would have been able to give it to him.

"Because you're the only one who knows about my panic attacks."

He lets out a sound of disbelief, his face crumbling with disillusionment. And when he falls back in his seat with nothing to say, you unbuckle your seat and get out of the car.

"Thank you and goodnight." you say closing the door hoping he had heard you and the wind did not steal your words.

12:45am 7th of January

your phone stared back at you in full brightness. In contrast with the dim lights flashing across your features. Purple, dark green and blue.

There's a light buzz in your system, evoked by the few glasses of alcohol you had been sipping on throughout the night. A thin layer of sweat covers your forehead despite how cold it is outside. The remaining liquor in your cup is tempting you.

Sunoo’s head is on your shoulder, adding unwanted weight to your body "He’s not eben hat hot, ight?" his words slur together, meshing into somewhat a coherent sentence that he whines out. You follow his gaze that of course lands on none other than Minji, her body swaying to the music with some guy that you recognize from one of your classes. Her arms circle his neck, a huge smile on her face the darker her eyes get with overflowing lust.

Even from this distance you could see it all. Sunoo clings to you further, leg thrown over your lap, almost engulfing your body entirely. His breath reeks of cheap vodka when another whine escapes him.

"yn, 'm hotter yea?"

You hastily drink the very little liquor left in your cup.

"You're so much hotter babe." Sunoo hums happily at your answer, closing his eyes as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

You could only exhale loudly, starting to feel a little choked up with this proximity. You’re not drunk enough to be dealing with this cat and mouse game Sunoo and Minji like to play. you haven’t been present enough mentally this semester to see it all unfold. you just know that somewhere between the first and the second week Heeseung had found you during lunch, mouth agape as he whispered in disbelief;

"Did you know Sunoo and Minji fucked?"

All hell broke loose since that day. Sunoo who's hopelessly in love and Minji who won't commit or be tied down by anyone. It's a classic tale really, a chess game that you had participated in before. It isn't hard to tell who's gonna win, there's no competition here. You just wish Sunoo would realize that too.

"You okay?" Heeseung all but yells at you, loud enough to hear him over the roaring music as he plops down on the couch next to you. His hand brushes your fringe out your face and away from your sweaty forehead.

"Uh huh," Heeseung isn't looking at you though, eyes glued to the awkward girl standing by the stairs. Fidgeting with the red cup between her hands, looking around in what seem to be anxiety. She looks innocent, a lost look in her eyes that gives away the fact that she's a freshman.

She's Heeseung's favorite type of preys.

"Good, good." He says absentmindedly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes rake over the girl's body. His hand travels from your hair to the back of your neck, squeezing.

You roll your eyes, already knowing what’s about to come, witnessed the words tumble out his lips repeatedly.

"I'm gonna go get some ass, yn" He decides loudly. Taking what's left from Sunno’s drink and chugs it down. He then gets up, rolling his shoulders and with confident strides makes his way to the girl. You watch as Heeseung puts on his usual charming smile, all warm and inviting. A blush dark enough to be seen by you on the girl's cheek as they start chatting.

You grow a little miffed. Feeling like you’ve been ditched by all your friends and left to deal with a very drunk Sunoo. This was definitely not what you had in mind when you agreed to come to this party. You untangle yourself from Sunoo with force, the older all but whines refusing to let go.

“I’m just gonna go get a drink,” you tell him and he only whines in response, not a word was probably registered.

You stumble, feet almost interlocking but you manage to stand straight. Your own blushed cheeks are evidence of your tipsiness. Not drunkenness. You’re not there yet. You feel like you’re swimming through a sea of people as you push between them, your knit white sweater gets stuck in someone's bracelet. A string of apologies spills from your mouth. It’s the only few mishaps that manage to unfold before your night passes by with you drowning yourself in liquor.

It's only a few hours later that feels closer to years have passed by. You find yourself in one of the few open rundown 7/11 with Heeseung and a sobered-up Sunoo slurping spicy noodles. Your mind a little less cloudless, limbs aching as you stand up.

“I’m gonna get some air.” You tell your friends, stretching your arms above your head. Sunoo only makes a noise of acknowledgement with his mouth full.

“Don’t walk too far.” Heeseung tells you, eyes lingering on the back of your head as you wave your hand at him.

The frigid air hits you square in the face as you pull your jacket around you tighter, wrapping your arms around yourself in search of warmth. the cheap fabric fails to provide such.

Keeping Heeseung’s words in mind, you don’t walk too far from the store, finding a bench close by that you settle upon with a sigh. Closing your eyes and breathing in fresh air. Your head grows a tad clearer. A comforting buzz settles in your being instead and despite the dull ache in your body, you feel okay.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” your eyes fall open, flitting to the source of the voice. It’s a middle-aged man so clearly high off his mind. A familiar sight in these streets.

You ignore him, too used to such situations.

“Didn’t your parents tell you it’s rude to ignore people?” When he speaks this time you glare at him, a scowl taking place upon your face.

“Fuck off old man.” You spit, tone imbued with indignation despite the tremble manifesting in your clenched fingers, nails digging into the insides of your palms.

“Watch your mouth bitch.” The man all but grunts, taking a step towards you, you brace yourself to run, your muscles growing rigid. Your palms are growing sweaty.

Just as the man takes another step towards you, you feel a presence behind you, the man’s eyes darting elsewhere.

“She told you to fuck off. Are you fucking deaf?” the voice is overfamiliar. Velvety smooth as it rings in your ears, evoking beats from your heart this time not out of perturbation. It’s something closer to exhilaration.

The man grumbles, a frown on his aged-up face as he glares at you then turns around and walks the other way. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your shoulders going lax as you turn your head, a familiar face of a stranger comes into view.

White as snow, dark as night and that same dizzying scent. heady and sweet.

It’s the same face that has haunted your mind longer than you’d ever admit, taking space you weren’t aware you’re willing to give. His eyes are hardened into a glare, glued to the back of the man’s head until he’s far enough to not be seen that they flit to you.

Just like the first time you saw him he’s clad in everything black, yet this time instead of formal attire it’s a hoodie and black jeans. Clear glasses on his face yet he remains prettier than any magnificent piece of art you had the pleasure to witness.

The way his gaze palliates instantly has your chest tightening, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as a wind passes you by, somehow drowning you deeper into his intoxicating aroma.

“Are you okay?” His tone is so much softer, tender compared to the way he spoke mere seconds ago.

“Y-Yes. Thank you.” your words come out ignominiously scattered, tinted by your clear nerves that you cover up with a flimsy excuse, alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be alone this late at night. It’s dangerous, pretty girl.” He reprimands genially and your face burns, at the endearment, at his tone and more than anything at the tilt of his lip. A charming smile taking place onto his face, in contrary to how he was willing to shoot the man with his eyes not even minutes ago.

“I’m not alone. I’m waiting for my friends.” You lie, for unidentified incentives that you don’t even want to think about. It’s all deemed worthy when he tilts his head at you with a hum. A glint in his eyes and you’re overtaken by peculiar emotions. Rushing through you all the same as your last meeting.

“Shall I wait with you then?” he says, walking till he’s next to you, and you try hard not to stare at him, but it is reckoned unfeasible when he is so implausibly gorgeous.

You will enough strength to not to think about the way his necklace dangles when he leans down to take a seat next to you. Try hard not to imagine the same way his necklace would dangle over you if he was on top of you.

A space you hate remains between you two and you berate yourself, no amount of tipsiness should allow you to be this way.

“Don’t you remember me?” you ask. His eyes prance over your features in what seems to be attempts to recall where he had seen you before. You wither just a bit in disappointment, a strange hope in you dwindles ever so slightly.

Was it too ambitious of you to hope to take space in his mind as well?

“Ah! We met at the museum. Didn’t we?” his brows rise in recognition.

“We did.” You nod, chuckling nervously as you push strands of your hair behind your ears. You miss the way his eyes darken at your apparent shyness.

Above you the sky darkens just the same, collecting gray clouds as if to match his soul.

“It would be absolutely mad of me not to remember such a pretty face.” The words tumble out his lips so deftly, yet they remain brimming with intensity, and they manage to tinge your cheeks a darker shade of pink, a deplorable exhibit of your heartstrings being played with so effortlessly.

"Do you always flirt with people like this?" you ask, a playful smile tilting your lips upwards.

"I'm glad my attempts at flirting are being acknowledged," he replies, the same playfulness dances around his face and when his eyes dip to your lips for a moment before they’re flitting back to your eyes, it is enough to have your breath hitching.

There's a moment of silence that falls over you, it isn't necessarily awkward, yet the tension encloses itself around your neck, embraces you with a threat of bad decisions. At this moment, they don’t look bad enough.

The short silence is interrupted when you shiver, the cold remains cruel against your cheap clothing.

“Are you cold?” he asks, seeming to notice it all.

“A bit.” You admit, burying your hands in- between your thighs in search of warmth. He eyes your action carefully, and then he moves to take off his hoodie, left only in his turtleneck.

Extending it to you.

“Oh you don’t have to-“you attempt to refuse, shaking your head but he doesn’t let you finish, throwing the fabric onto your lap.

“Wear it.” Perhaps it’s the way his tone is so authoritative it has you crumbling quickly, not fighting back as you put it on, his scent engulfs you and your body rises in temperature instantaneously

“Are you perhaps afraid to look at me?" he asks when you keep your eyes on your tangled fingers, his tone is taunting, an underline of mockery prevails there.

A challenge presents itself to you and you swallow it up, head snapping to look at him with faux confidence clambering over your being. He smirks, somehow managing to remain doused in otherworldly beauty and something akin to victory ceases his eyes.

You wonder how it is possible to have such absurd desires like wishing you’re a mere emotion fortunate enough to flow within him. You must be going insane with loneliness.

"Why would I be?" your eyebrow raises, a plaintive venture to take the lead in whatever dance you’re having.

Something manages to coexist in the middle of all the loneliness meshing with your bones. A feeling akin to curiosity, excitement. A feeling that seems dangerous, a fire that will surely inundate you the longer you stay here.

Eyes midnight black, half lidded, stare back at you. Refusing to back down.

“Your eyes are prettier when they’re looking at me.” your confidence leaves, shattered as soon as it comes, the tips of your ears turning red and the flattery waters your heart so facilely. Your heart hammers against your chest, as if begging to be let out and you almost want to do just that.

At the realization that you lost so quickly you wish to throw up your heart, welcoming your defeat with open arms.

“If you’re gonna keep flirting with me, at least tell me your name.” You mumble, loud enough for your words not to be stolen by the wind and he chuckles.

“Are you interested in me?”

“Stop please.” You whine, bringing your palms to your cheeks. You’re so hot you could melt right on this seat.

“I’m only teasing, darling.”

“Well stop teasing me.” his eyes grow fond at the pout taking place on your face, you seem to be unaware of how utterly adorable you are.

“How about this,” he turns his body towards you, arms crossed on his chest, and you try your hardest not to stare” I have a little game for you if you manage to solve it then I’ll tell you, my name.” he suggests and you contemplate on what to say, yet you find yourself nodding.

“Give me your arm.” He whispers, inching closer to you and you do as he says, embarrassingly fast as if you were desperate to please, desperate for a glimpse of a smile from a stranger as you extend your arm towards him.

His touch is delicate as his fingers inch the sleeves of your (his) hoodie upwards, it has goosebumps erupting on your skin, setting your body ablaze and your breaths grow labored when his eyes catch yours, pulling you into him with a vigorous force

“I’m gonna write something on your arm and you have to guess it, simple yeah?” his voice is low as if he’s afraid to break whatever hue the both of you have fallen into and your lips separate with a familiar softness “okay.” You whisper back, the quirk of his lips, ever so slightly has a whimper bubbling at the back of your throat.

His nimble fingers feel cold against your skin, keeping his eyes fixated on your face as his fingers irritatingly, deliberately trace syllables upon your arm.

“Can you tell me what I just wrote?” You blink at him, realizing you have paid no attention whatsoever, instead all you did was stare at him, wandering in your own thoughts that are evoked by him.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, attempting to pull yourself together “do it again.” You tell him and his lips twitch upwards in a way that slightly piques you. his fingers start tracing letters upon the skin of your arms again and this time, you pay your utmost attention to every move, every brush of his fingers.

“I can?” you answer when he pauses with a question in his gaze.

“Yes, good.” He resumes moving his fingers.

“I can, see?”

“Mhm.” You furrow your brows, seeming to have lost track and he’s lenient enough to do it again.

Your mouth shaping around the words fleeing to your mind, his stare stays affixed on your lips. A foreboding glint manifests in his stare, till yours widen, overtaken by brief triumph.

“I can see you! That’s what you wrote. I can see you.” you exclaim, excitedly. A gleam enough to blind anyone with your smile that has him chuckling and shaking his head.

“Hold on, I’m not done yet.”

“Oh,” you settle down with pink cheeks, embarrassed.

As his fingers move against your skin anew, akin to strokes of a paintbrush inundated with iciness, a benevolence lingers at the tips of his fingers. It’s competent at eliciting a shiver to run down your spine, your heart pulsating.

Can

See

Your

Just as he’s tracing what you assume to be the last word on your arm, the sky blights your little bubble, breaking through it with force as droplets of water hit your face. You look up at the sky as it starts to rain and his stays on your face.

As if feeling his stare slowly you find him, and then just like the first time you saw him he captures you in place. A hue of vulnerability and a sense of endearment colors his gaze. Just like the dewdrops of rain it grazes the surface of your heart prominently.

Inchmeal, he pulls the hood of the garment over your head, sheltering you from the rain and you hold your breath, waiting, anticipating for something as ardent as the feelings splashing across his face.

“Yn!” you hear Heeseung’s voice call for you from behind “Come on! Let’s go home.”

In a mere second, his eyes dart behind you before they’re back on you, he smiles, irreconcilable with how grim the sky looks above you.

Heady and sweet.

“Go.” He tells you, voice low and perhaps it was the tilt of his lips that has you obligating with a silent nod.

Your friends are not sober enough to ask you who you were with, and you colored with shades of red, attraction.

It is a veil against the questions that should be alarming like why a man with a such an expensive watch around his wrist lurking around this side of the city.

With a hand on your hip, eyes filled with flames of irritation you glare at an unconscious Heeseung sprawled on your couch. With a snore loud enough for you to grow deaf. Evidence of last night’s chaos lies on the ground. Empty bags of chips and empty beer cans.

You had awakened with a slight ache forming in the temples of your head, a myriad of visions conquering your mind, mainly of your mystifying encounter with the handsome stranger.

With a shake of your head, you take a seat on the small coffee table that's facing your worn-out couch. Your eyes stilling on your friend's peaceful sleeping face, too peaceful. delivering a hard jab to his side, the latter barely feels it, only groaning in response. You huff, reaching for his cheek and pinching, hard. And that seems to do the job because Heeseung’s eyes shoot open, slapping your hand away with enormous potency.

"Ow! what the hell?" He whines, rubbing his now reddening cheek.

"Had to wake you up somehow." You say with a shrug, getting up and walking to your kitchen, another overly dramatic whine of his has you rolling your eyes.

"You're fucked in the head, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah" you sip on your water, Heeseung shuffles from behind you, yawning as he leans his head on your shoulder, his body almost engulfing yours with his weight, arms wrapping around your waist in search for warmth, the morning weather remains frigid, sweeping in through the thin walls of your apartment.

“You’re heavy Hee and your breath stinks.” You sigh and he hums, making no effort to move away.

“Last night was interesting.” He says into your neck.

“Was it?”

“Who was that guy you were with?” your hand stills around the glass, had not expected such question.

“You saw us?” you retort, tilting your head to look at him.

“I did.” His arm loosens from around your waist to dawdle past you to brew some coffee, in search for some needed energy “so who was he? Mr. glasses?” he leans his elbow on the counter, facing you with a scrutinizing gaze.

You busy your fingers with toying with the plate of grapes in front of you, an awkward avoidance drapes over you.

“Just some guy.” You shrug.

“Didn’t take you as the type to chill in the middle of the night with just some guy.”

“I don’t know him Heeseung. We met once at some museum, and I just randomly saw him again last night.”

He keeps quiet, pursuing his lips. Seemingly not awake enough to register anything that meaningful. At his speech impediment, you take your glass with you, and settle upon your couch with a sigh, relaxing into the cushions. Heeseung follows you shortly after, his own cup of coffee in his hands.

“Jaeyun has been blowing up my phone.” He starts, sitting way too closely next to you.

“So?”

“He said you guys almost kissed in his car the other night.”

"I don't even understand why he's telling you all this shit." You mummer with an exhale, running your hands through your hair warily.

"He's just venting you know he has no one." You know he’s right, but it doesn’t lessen how hard the strings of irritation are pulling at you.

"Stop telling me about it then."

"Okay someone's in a bitch mood." Heeseung grumbles, hands up in surrender.

His eyes shift to your face, seeming to notice the bags under your eyes, the fatigue pasting itself to you almost invariably these days, wordlessly he pulls you into him, arms around your shoulders and you go easily, his touches, as gentle and warm as ever.

“I hope you’re being careful, angel.”

You keep quiet, eyes zeroed in on his cup of coffee.

You are walking home from work.

The sun has set too early, and the streets are sinisterly empty. The lights flicker;

off

you’re feeling cold, you can barely feel the tips of your fingers and It's oddly windy, you’re clad in nothing, but a tank top and your mind is hazy. You can’t seem to recall where your jacket is. Did you leave it at home, or did you end up leaving it at the store? You wield yourself to remember yet nothing.

You pass by a clock that's arbitrarily tossed upon the cracked ground of the street, for an unspecified reason you go and pick it up. It’s pointing at 11, slowly turning to 12 and before you could blink the clock wire starts moving inhumanly fast, turning and you grow dizzy. Throwing it back on the ground as you bring your palm to your temples with a groan.

The clock disappears as soon as it touches the pavement.

I need to go home.

Your head is now pounding, legs wobbly as you stumble on the sidewalk. Your vison blurry and your chest tightens with insignificant trepidation.

I need to go home

You hear footsteps behind you and your chest tightens even more, breathing grows to be a harder task and you’re panting, terror nestles its way into you uninvited and hastily. You don’t need to look behind you to feel alarmed, instead your weak legs attempt to pick up speed, a futile way to flee from whatever danger lingering behind. abruptly pain spreads across the bottom of your feet as if you’re running on endless needles, it’s unbearable and you’re struggling to breathe, panting loudly yet no air seems to make its way into your throat. As if steel is lodged in the middle.

The footsteps grow closer and closer to you, agonizingly taunting, you can’t move when you feel a presence behind you, feel their breath hit the back of your neck and with one swift move, you feel a hand circle your wrist, its grip unrelenting and your body grows frail, unable to fight back.

You look down at the hand holding onto you and all you see is red blood. Dripping everywhere, down your wrist staining you. Your mouth opens with a scream but it’s silent, no sound can be heard.

With a frightened expression and widened gaze, you look up at the guy, with an unrecognizable face, he’s doused in blackness. It flings your soul into a substantial pool of horrific panic. You try to break free, your fingers twisting but to no avail. His grip is too strong, your own body too weak to fight back. You try to scream again, yelling to be let go and yet just the same it’s silent.

Your free hand touches your face only to realize your mouth has been sewn shut.

Suddenly the sky above you color with grey clouds and it starts to rain drops of crimson.

The scent of metallic invades your nostrils, you taste it on your tongue and your known nausea builds alarmingly swiftly. You only register your tears spilling out your eyes when the guy tackles you to the ground. His body is akin to a block of metal on top of you.

He starts to cackle at you, you can feel your heart beating its way out of your chest, loud and painful. You’re terrified, covered in blood and incapable of catching your breath.

There’s a knife in his hand, as his laughter gets louder and louder ringing in your ears, the blade cuts through your chest. He craves out your heart and you lie there, watching as he brings it to his mouth with a smile so wide and chews on it.

You can’t move, you can’t speak, you have no one to help you.

You wake up with a gasp, eyes lined with tears and shaking with tremors of terror running through your limbs. You look around and your panic subsides with an exhale, realizing you’re on your bed, in your room.

A wave of relief washes over you, like splashed cold water. It was just a bad dream. A really bad dream. Unwittingly your palm sprawls over your chest, right where your heart is and another exhale escapes you, it’s beating and it’s still here.

You’re okay, everything is okay.

Checking your phone, you scroll the seemingly monotonous messages from your friends. You had finished classes early and decided to go back home and nap before your planned study session with them. Your body has been feeling weak these few past days. Ever since your encounter with the pretty stranger, surely staying under the rain that late at night wasn’t the smartest decision. Despite it being short-lived it was more than enough for your frail body to fall apart with a sore throat and a runny nose. A flu lurks around the corner, and you know it’s coming.

Your eyes flit to the now washed hoodie you hung on the door of your closet, a constant reminder that whatever you felt was real. A hope etched onto the fabric for another chance, to see him.

You get ready in a haze, mind a little numb and limbs dragging with a dire ache. Heeseung ends up picking you up and he keeps rambling the whole ride about a new video game he needs to buy. You keep quiet, looking out the window, although your nap you still feel weary, head buzzing with recollection of the nightmare you had. You had an inkling that it was about the figure you saw outside your work a couple of weeks ago.

Although you’re accustomed to being surrounded by fret you never knew yourself to be this paranoid. You can't decide if you’re being way too anxious about such a minuscule matter, or you aren’t giving it enough magnitude.

You meet Sunoo and Minji outside the library, a small and cute one just around the corner from a cafe that you used to work at. Although it’s closed now.

The owner – who was a kind old man – had decided to close it after three years because he couldn't handle the terrible loss of his son and moved back to his hometown. You never knew the exact details of the incident.

The tension swirling in the air is hefty enough for you to feel it, somehow adding heaviness to your shoulders as your eyes dart between the two. Unresolved conversation hangs between them and it’s evident enough in the way there’s a frown plastered on Minji’s face. An avoidance in Sunoo’s gaze.

"Should we go for karaoke after?" Heeseung suggests as soon as you step foot inside, with an arm around your shoulder he brings you closer to him. It’s a salient striving to lighten the mood.

It earns him a glare from Minji who seems to have little to zero tolerance loitering in her.

“We have no time for bullshit. We came here to finish this stupid project.” She huffs and Heeseung holds his hands up in surrender.

“Damn okay. Chill.” He mummers and you chuckle, adjusting the falling strap of your tote bag.

On the contrary, Sunoo’s expression turns sour, his brows knitting together and his words fall like bombs that have been on edge, waiting to find a chance to be let loose “He obviously meant when we’re finished with our work.” He grumbles, voice laced with evident venom, Heeseung agrees with a nod.

"And you seriously think we're gonna have time to do anything? The due date is literally tomorrow." Minji retorts with an equal amount of venom tinting her tone.

You sigh at the glare the librarian throws your group, noticing the disturbance your discussion has caused across the stillness of the place “Can you guys cut it out and start actually doing your work?” the three of them look at you in union, nothing is said back at you and with a pleased nod you take a seat at one of the nearest tables. Your friends follow silently, unpacking their stuff, immersed in their work.

"yn," Heeseung calls. Brushing his shoulder against yours. His eyes are wide in a plea and a pout on his lips.

"What?" you ask with imitated disgust.

"Can you help me with this?" his pout intensifies as he points at the part he's confused about, batting his lashes at you and you bite back a smile as you lean over, bangs falling over your eyes and inattentive to the way Heeseung’s expression melts into an unfamiliar tenderness, gaze serious.

The question was related to personality psychology. You and he had decided to enroll in the course together. Thinking it would be easier if you had someone with you. It slipped your mind that one; Heeseung is an idiot at everything except for math and two; your attention span has been all over the place lately. Dozing off in almost every class.

"Sorry you're gonna need to help yourself because I don't understand it either." You say, patting his shoulder.

Heeseung looks away promptly leaving you with no answer and despite your perplexity at his behavior you don’t dwell on it. Putting your earbuds in and taking out your own notes to start studying.

A couple of hours have passed, Minji and Sunoo are much more mitigated, the air flows lighter and you can’t help the smile that disperses across your face at the sight of them working closely together. You stretch your arm above your head with an exhale, feeling your back muscles relax.

Leaning your chin on the palm of your hand, you look out the window. catching sight of the rain outside. Taking out your earbuds, the sound of raindrops hitting the window reverberates throughout the tranquil silence disseminating the place. It stirs a welcomed alleviation within you. Days of overworking yourself alongside the lack of sleep catches up to you, fatigue sears itself onto your being and you lie your head on the table. Eyes pasted on the dewdrops trailing down the window leisurely.

Minji's and Sunoo hushed conversation starts to feel like white noise. You fall into a distance lullaby and right at this mere moment you feel like you could relax for the first time in a while. A feeling so foreign you’re almost too afraid to settle in.

As your eyes grow heavier with sleep, you notice a familiar figure pass by in front of the window. Impossible to forfeit, amongst the crowd and the countless umbrellas there’s just no way for you to miss him. Not when he’s been haunting your mind for stretching hours. Not when your head hits the pillow and the only plaguing your thoughts are the words he traced upon your skin, as if tattooed by flames you cannot seem to relinquish.

You shoot up from your chair, your tiredness long obliterated as your eyes frantically follow him. The conversation of your friends dies down, their focus shifting on you with concern etched onto their features

"Are you okay?" Sunoo asks, his eyes shifting to where you’re looking.

"Yn?" Heeseung calls out to you.

But you’re impotent. Your attention stolen and you’re incapable of registering a word that’s being said to you.

"Sorry guys, I’ll be right back." You speak in a hurry, shoving your phone deep into your pocket and quickly storming out of the library. The rain is unforgiving as it dawns on your being, drenching you and earning you a few disdainful looks from the people passing by.

You don’t recognize yourself, you’re not usually like this. And you try to grasp meaning of your behavior, yet you’re empty handed, filled with a baffling urge for a glimpse of this man who’s nothing but a stranger to you. Perhaps it was the wind of grotesque emotions flinging through the air every time you two spoke, his few words have stuck in your mind like a record that won’t stop playing and no matter how many times you listen, you’re still scuffling to find elucidation.

Perhaps you were just edging yourself into deliration.

"What am I doing." You mumble to yourself as you’re about to go inside, you notice him at the end of the crossroad.

You stand still for three full seconds.

On the first one your brain chastises you, stridently yelling at you why do you care over and over again.

On the second one you shift onto rationality telling yourself to go back inside the library and continue the life you’re so used to. Where no weird guys you’re fascinated with exist and you act like a different version of yourself.

On the third one you start sprinting because the man takes a right turn, and you need to catch up. Water splashes under your feet as you gather whatever robustness is left in your body.

You don’t give room for yourself to abide on any raising questions in your head, like what would you possibly say to him if you caught up to him? You have no idea how you could explain this peculiar urge to see him again? Was this behavior odd enough for you to be deemed a stalker?

The space between you two grows smaller, your shorter legs remain lacking for you to fully catch up when he takes a turn to his right, you follow right after with a panting chest. Your feet come to a stop as the sight of an empty alleyway comes into view. Your brain racing with confusion that clampers over your face just the same. You attempt to look further yet only bags of trash greet you. The wetness of the rain mixing in with it makes the scent horrendous.

"Are you following me?" You jolt in surprise; a discernible gasp tumbles out your lips.

You swivel around, coming face to face with your desired target who stays as breathtaking as ever. Shrouded in black formalwear and hair styled to perfection, his glasses hang at the tip of his nose, His hand holding onto an umbrella while the other is buried in his pocket.

He’s a striking image of an ardent artist’s majestic creation, diabolically ethereal, nothing less. You in contrast, a ball of predicament, hair wet and a heaving chest.

"I wasn't." You answer shortly, an idiotic attempt to grasp control over the situation.

If the raise of his brow is anything to go by, he doesn’t buy it and you cannot blame him.

"Oh really?" he muses, taking a few steps towards you, a smirk curling at the end of his lips and you hold your breath in guilt.

He tilts his umbrella to you, harboring you from the rain.

He looks down at you, eyes dark and it is enough to set your cheeks ablaze, a blush mortifyingly potent enough to travel all the way to your ears. Your heart skips beat almost appallingly, loud enough you grow fearful he might be able to hear it. It sends you into enough panic to forget about how uncomfortable your clothes feel, sticking to your body.

“You shouldn’t be out without an umbrella when it’s raining this hard.” He reprimands, tone gentle.

“I know.” Sweat beads start cumulating at your forehead, albeit the frigid weather, your body growing hot.

“Where are you heading? I’ll take you.” he asks, tilting his head at you, a smile just as tender as the one that colors his voice, and you shake your head at him in disregard.

“Or would you like to admit now that you were following me?”

“I-I wasn’t following you!” you sputter, nowhere near convincing.

“I’m only teasing, darling.” He chuckles, a sound so strangely compelling, an urge crawls over you, so foolish like saving the sound between the palms of your hands alongside his sweet endearment.

“Aren’t you scared, to be here with me alone?” he deliberately asks, voice lowered.

“y-you don’t seem dangerous. Besides you saved me from that old man last time so.” You trail off, bunglingly and he hums, gauging the way you almost curl into yourself with precious diffidence.

Your eyes darts to his momentarily, holding you captive with manacles coaxed with deviant cravings, it tastes like candied impulses you wish to give into, it feels like addictive fire upon your skin ignited by his gaze.

Your body is overwhelmingly hot so that exhaling grows to be a harder task.

"We seem to always meet when it's raining." You whisper, traversing through the silence.

"I guess so." He hums, keeping his eyes on you “were you keeping track of our meetings?” He follows with a question, you dare with collected vigor not to look away despite the way your cheek burns so profoundly it feels excruciating.

“It’s hard not to.” You admit.

“How come?”

You chew on your lower lip, brain turning to putty, just like melting ice cubes under the vehemence of his stare. You aren’t feeling well, gravely trying to come up with a tolerable fib to spill. Yet the wheels in your head feel like they have turned rusty, unable to turn quick enough. The blink of your eye takes longer to unfold.

“they’re fascinating to say the least.” You settle with the truth.

“Mm. are they or do you find me fascinating?”

“Do you always ask random strangers this many questions?” you huff out, you’re growing dizzy, your knees unsteady.

“Do you always follow strangers into alleyways?”

“No.” you answer, airily.

He takes a few steps towards you, closing the already very small distance separating you. Tentatively he brings his hand up to your face, with the back of his fingers he caresses your forehead so delicately, your eyelids fall shut, missing the way his eyebrow shoot up in surprise.

“You’re very warm. Are you alright?” his words fall upon your ears laboriously, like they echo within your being, and it takes longer than necessary for you to find meaning in them.

“’m okay.” You murmur, absentmindedly stumbling forward and resting your forehead against his shoulder, his body aids in providing comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

“I don’t think so darling. Are you friends near?” he asks, and you shake your head, his arm wrapping around your shoulders vigilantly. It spreads a pleasant buzz throughout your body,

You’re so tired you want to go to sleep.

“I’m gonna take you to my house. Okay? We need to take care of you, it seems you’re running a fever.” you think you answer, or maybe you nod your head. You aren’t very sure.

All you know is that you felt indisputable comfort in a sustained amount of time.

When you awake, you’re met with a foreign ceiling. It’s painted with spatters of colors atop one another. Dominated by three shades black, white and red. They expand into bigger arbitrarily sketches you’re not sentient enough to understand just yet. It’s very well done, inherently distinctive that you can tell it’s painted by the hands of whoever is residing here.

You sit up with a groan, twined with the throb of your forming headache. Pressing your thumbs into your temples, it is not even close pressure for the pain to subside. Blinking, your eyes take a swift look around the room you’re in. The space larger than your entire apartment.

You don’t get to linger in how much money this man has before you hear the door clicking open.

"Oh, you're awake?" He asks, Looking fresh out of the shower, with slightly damp hair and barefaced.

His black clothes are now replaced with a white button-up dress shirt and black formal pants. You slightly raise your eyebrows at the choice of clothes. His hair leaves droplets of water on his shirt leaving some spots transparent.

"Did I pass out?" you ask, voice just a tad groggy, your eyes following him as he turns his back to you, fetching something from the coffee table that you didn’t even notice.

Just how big is this room?

“No. you just fell asleep.” He answers, turning to face you with a cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit while a lighter curls between the fingers of his other hand. The twitch of his lips is enough evidence of how comical he finds this to be.

“Oh.” You trail off, face burning.

As he walks to you, the intensity in his gaze remains as suffocating as flower petals blooming in the middle of your throat, you don’t allow yourself to breath as his slender fingers graze your forehead, your fists curling onto the sheets.

“Your fever has gone down. Thankfully.” He says, voice muffled by the stick between his lips.

His black hair drips water on your bare thighs causing you to shiver. It's cold. At the realization you look down at your lap, noting you’re not wearing any pants, clad in an unfamiliar sweatshirt.

“D-did you change my clothes?” you stammer, your cheeks falling into a darker shade.

“I couldn’t put you to bed with soaked clothes. Could I?”

“Well y-yeah.”

“I’m just teasing, darling.” He starts, his eyes skimming across your blushing face with relish “My maid changed your clothes for you. I’m a gentleman after all I wouldn’t undress you without your consent.”

“Gosh this is so fucking embarrassing. I’m sorry.” You whine, covering your face with your palms in hopes to somehow dissipate into air, or let this be another stupid nightmare of yours.

“Which is, the fact that you fell asleep on me or that you talked in your sleep about how handsome you think my face is?”

“Oh my god!” you exclaim, horrified at the information, you curl into yourself further. The way he chuckles so lightheartedly doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

"Would you like some food?" he asks, his finger brushing across your arm causing goosebumps to arise.

“No.” you groan “I wanna go home or maybe throw myself out the window.”

“Now you’re hurting me.” you peak at him through your fingers, expecting a teasing smirk to be displaying yet you’re met with an odd solemnity.

"I made some soup for you-" He pauses to light his cigarette, taking a deep inhale and puffing out the smoke. You watch with unalloyed attention as he throws the lighter on the table next to the bed mindlessly.

There’s an anomalous elegancy that coats his every move, enough to have you enchanted.

"So, you should really have some." He finishes, dark eyes finding yours with unfaltering assertiveness that has you silently nodding.

You cannot give voice to your emotions, not when he’s an embodiment of everything beauty gets the pleasure to breathe into. It’s an unyielding attraction, one that you cannot seem to scrimmage against, ideally you bare your neck, waiting to feel his teeth on your throat.

At your approval, he sends you a gentle smile, like a soothing wave of comfort descending upon your body that has been drowning in exhaustion. It’s ill-fitted, compared to his dusky room, or the cigarette slotted between his lips.

“I’ll go get it for you.” he tells you and you give him another nod,

With his absence, you fetch the opportunity with vigor, taking it upon yourself to snoop around. You start by examining the lighter he threw on the bedside table, the shiny exterior had managed to capture your attention. Brushing your fingers over the leather case, it’s not hard to tell even such a small item is expensive.

You notice an initial is engraved at the bottom, trailing the two letters with the tip of your index finger 'PSH'.

Putting the lighter back on the dresser, you stand up feeling slightly better, your legs gathering more strength compared to earlier. You turn your attention to the countless papers sprawled on the floor, collected in a pile as if they hold no importance anymore. Picking a few up, you go through them with inquisitive eyes. They all seem like first drafts of sketches, clearly unfinished. Few with a face etched onto them, void of any clear features, another is just a pair of eyes. While a different one is just an outline of a body, for some odd reason they all feel familiar. Like you have seen them somewhere or like you should know who they belong to.

It has an unsettling feeling nestling its way into you, the same one you felt back at the museum. Drifting your eyes to the corner of the page, the autograph there catches your eyes.

"Park Sunghoon." you read out loud. You check the other papers and surely every single one of them is signed with the same name. you don’t get to dwell on the discovery before you hear the door clicking open once again.

Placing the papers back in their original place, you face the door. He steals a glance at you, your gaze locking for a mere second before he’s walking over to the small coffee table, sitting in the middle of his room paired with a sofa that looks more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned.

"Come here." He tells you, setting the tray he was holding down, and you follow quietly. Sitting down next to him with a good, measured gap between you.

He eyes you but doesn’t comment on it.

"Help yourself." He says pointing to the bowl of soup with a tilt of his head, his fingers curling around one of the cups that seem to be holding coffee.

You only nod, scooting closer to the table as the delicious smell invades your nostrils, evoking your hunger to raise and the realization that you haven’t eaten anything all day.

“Good?” he asks after you take a sip, eyes fond.

“Really good. Thank you.” you answer with a smile, diving in for some more.

"Have some green tea." Sunghoon suggests and you nod. Setting the bowl down on the tray. You reach for the cup. Your eyes immediately dart to the label of the tea, and you recognize it as one of the more expensive brands. They don't even sell it where you work.

Amidst your sip, you look at him only to find him already watching you. Resting his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes follow your every move with a slackened expression. With tinted cheeks you avert your attention to the huge window next to you, taking note that the rain has stopped completely. Although it's still cloudy outside.

You should head home soon before it starts raining again.

"So why were you following me?" Sunghoon asks, slicing into the congested tension. You don’t expect it, resulting in you choking on a sip, your face turning red in color as you fall into a fit of coughs.

Sunghoon’s emotions grow into amusement as if you weren’t on the verge of death.

"I wasn't following you." you state, clearing your throat.

“What were you doing then?"

“I was at the library with my friends,” you start, eyes lolling everywhere and he only hums, patience seeming unlimited “I saw you passing by, and I wanted to tell you that I figured out what you wrote on my arm that night.”

"So, you went out into the rain without an umbrella?” he puffs out a chuckle and you’re starting to feel a tad bit annoyed. Like you’re a source of entertainment to him.

“It was stupid. I’m so dumb for doing that I get it.” You huff, overwhelmed with discomfiture.

“It made me happy.”

“What?”

“Knowing I wasn’t the only one still thinking about you.”

“You think about me?” you ask, eyes flitting to his, they stay unwavering.

“I do.” There’s no way for you to prove it, but you know it’s the truth he speaks, woven with that same unfeigned smile.

Your silence stretches, as you ponder upon all the contingencies staring back at you. You can’t find anything worrisome and perhaps that’s why it worries you, you cannot be worthy of anything this gentle.

“You told me you figured out what I wrote on your arm?” he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts and you brighten with excitement, inching closer to him unwittingly, he leans into it. His arms stretching behind you.

“I did!”

“Mhm, go on. Tell me.”

“I can see your fears.” You answer, eyes dancing between his with overflowing delirium. Evoking a smile from him.

Your chest warms at the sight.

“Close enough.” He tells you and it’s enough for your excitement to melt right off you, replaced with a pout and a knot between your brows.

“I got it wrong?”

“It’s a T, not an F.”

“I can see your tears?” you ask, tilting your head in a too endearing of a manner.

“Yeah.” he answers softly.

“Does it have any special meaning behind it?” He shrugs at your question, leaving it unanswered as he stands up wordlessly, walking to his bedside table, he leans down to open a drawer and fetch something you can’t see.

You let your eyes wander, trailing over his slim figure, keeping yourself in check is almost deemed unobtainable. Not when you fall breathless as you’re pushed into the same space as him. He’s stunningly virtuoso as he’s surrounded by pieces of his own art, scattered around the floor, hung around the walls of his bedroom. Like it took decades to sculpt this man. Not a single flaw to be seen.

"Are you gonna tell me your name?" you ask when he turns to face you, a sketchbook between his hands and you’ve managed to stitch yourself woefully just in time.

“Although you got it wrong,” he sits himself back on the sofa right next to you, charm imbued into his grin “it’s Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon.” The name rolls off his tongue so fluidly, far from how it sounded in your head when you read it. The fact that you already knew is a hushed secret within the walls of your brain.

“What’s yours?” He opens his sketchbook, skimming through ones you don’t get enough time to steal glances at.

“yn,” you answer.

“Pretty name.” He doesn’t give enough time for his words to penetrate your mind, instead they hang over you like their own cloud replenishing with their own shades of emotions.

He inches closer to you, tilting your chin towards him with his thumb and index finger. You’re so taken back you don’t even get to inhale, cheeks glowing pink and body going rigid. His eyes skimming over your features, scrutinizing you as if you’re one of his paintings.

"W-what?" You stutter out.

His fingers loosen, abandoning the warmth of your skin, your fingers itch with a foolish urge, one like stopping him. An imprudent entreaty climbs up your throat, one like telling him you miss his touch the moment it’s gone.

“You have freckles.” he says, settling into an empty page and picking up a pencil that had been lying randomly on the table.

“They’re very faint. Nobody ever notices them.” You reply, dumbfounded.

“I can see them very clearly.” There’s a deeper meaning underlying his words, one that you cannot seem to comprehend "you’re bewitching. It has me questioning if you’re real." He continues, unceremoniously.

You find fiendish in his kind words, it’s as if your heart isn't swelling up in your chest. Inflating so beyond your control it feels like it might explode any minute. You exhort yourself not to be swooned so effortlessly. You shouldn't be taken away by so little yet flattering words like a weak branch swayed away by a fleeting wind.

You tell yourself you have been here before, you cannot stumble into the same mistakes over and over again, even if it grows harder by the minutes. The cravings of your heart screams grow louder when he looks at you, his hand pausing for a mere minute as if he’s taken back just the same. The softening of your gaze, an exposure of all your hidden fragility.

"I feel the same way about you," your words escape you without much thought, unconcealed.

You stare at each other for what almost feels like a decennary. Years of people dying, souls being reborn. And you’re still here, as if frozen in time and whatever colors the air between you two is enough to pump life into you for that long. It’s counted minutes, fewer seconds for you hold your breath and longer for you to blink.

Sunghoon doesn't reply, only hums as he goes back to drawing. Skilled fingers moving across the paper.

But you feel it, in the darkening of his eyes. The sharpening of his gaze. The tightening of his hold on the pencil. It's all so subdued but evident. A shift in the space between you, the tension amplifying, tethered with feverish intensity. You catch yourself breathing in deeper gulps of air. Wrapping an arm around your body, you look around. A failed attempt to calm your nerves.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Sunghoon asks, scrutinizing your movement.

"A little." You admit and he tsks, in what seems to be disapprobation, it has your arms tightening around yourself. An urge to please arises.

"You can ask me anything you want, if that will help." He suggests.

"Do you always draw strangers out of the blue?" you tease, striving for the air between you to be lighter.

It earns you a chuckle from him, a shake of his head that has you entranced. You never knew there were this many shapes of beauty and you did not know they could all exist in one person, in the tone of his voice, in the fluttering of his lashes, the sharpness of his jaw and even in between the strands of his hair.

"Only the pretty ones." He jokes back and you blush with a scuttling gaze, denying your heart.

"How old are you?" you inquire, attempting to start normal conversation.

"How old do you think I am?" He asks. Looking at you sideways with a tilt of his eyebrow that has you melting like butter. Squirming in your seat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be answering my questions?”

"I'm 28." He answers and you cannot hide the surprise taking place upon your face, not when he didn’t look a day over the age of 23.

“You’re young, aren’t you?” He asks, at your silence.

“I’m not that young.” Your tone comes out defensive, it has his lip twitching upwards in merriment “I turned 21 last month.” You continue and he only hums back.

You feel it again, the abrupt stopping of time for you, yet the ticking of the clock on the wall echoes resoundingly throughout the room. It is not enough to drown your heartbeat ringing in your ears. Not enough to conceal the allure swimming in his eyes when they dance between your eyes and then down at your lips.

You find yourself inching closer, you’re indistinguishable being pulled in by your heartstrings, with flames surging between you two, intertwined with lethal attraction and obscure intensity. The idea of burning alive does not sound all that bad right now. The space in the middle of you closes by inches, his breath reeking of cigarettes and coffee, the smell of his shampoo are all distinguishable.

He doesn’t move, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move, and you’re kneeling into it, with eyes turning hazy and labored breaths.

As your lips are about to touch, a striking sound cuts through, the ringing of a phone catches you both off guard. You wait for Sunghoon to get up, but he remains still, not moving a muscle, the twitch of his brows are the only giveaway of his annoyance.

"It's yours." He whispers, you’re confused for a minute but as the haze of enticement evaporates, you recognize the ringtone of your phone, spot it buzzing on the bed.

“Oh.” You stand up awkwardly, with stiffness in your bones you dawdle past him to grab your phone.

There are endless notifications of messages from Minji and Sunoo, a couple of missed calls from Heeseung. You cuss at yourself, had totally forgotten there are people waiting for you outside of whatever bubble you have stumbled into with Sunghoon. Who stays on the sofa with his back to you, seeming too busy admiring his own sketch of you.

You sway on your feet, with swaying thoughts, questions as foolish as the tint of red upon your cheeks. Is he admiring it because it’s you or is it an egotistical cherish?

Disappointment builds inside you at the thought.

"I should head home." You say, pocketing your phone.

"My driver will take you back." he replies, turning to look at you from the couch and you avert your eyes. Focusing on ripped up sketch on the ground.

It's disheartening to think about how something he probably cherishes so deeply is torn to shreds.

"There's no need. You have done more than enough."

"You're still tired. He'll take you." There’s an edge to his tone that kills the possibility of a clinch. It is not unkind in any way, in fact it’s implicitly sweet.

“I’m sorry and thank you for everything.”

“No need for apologizes, darling.”

You linger by the door, an evident nervousness coating the way your fingers are entangling and with the same meaninglessly endless tolerance inked into him, he waits for you just as well.

“I’m sorry for stealing your clothes again.” You say, an impish smile tilting your lips upwards as you point at the pair of sweats covering your legs.

The same one disperses across his lips, as he tips his head back at you, his arms crossing upon his chest and almost shamelessly his eyes trail over your body, loitering by your chest, it ignites a blazing fire right down to your core. Ardour -as cunning as you know it to be- coaxes it all. A master of temptation and the both of you toy with it religiously.

“They look better on you anyways.”

You are disentitled to silence, his words messing up the atoms of your being there’s no way for you to think straight. So you don’t ask how can you give them back, and instead you’re out of his space with a racing heart, wrapped in a deluge of his scent and an unendurable moisture between your legs. Your cheeks marring red with disgrace.

colored with shades of a duskier red, your attraction deepens, coexists with drops of lust.

The different atmosphere between your apartment and the place you were in kills your spirit. You were never really a thriver for luxury. You didn't grow up rich or poor. You had very basic living circumstances. In every aspect.

Although your living conditions were much better than now.

Is what you think as you greet the old lady that's dragging her drunken son into her apartment. Her face flushes with embarrassment every time. Even though you never comment on it nor mention it the next day. This happens every Sunday. Sometimes the timing is different, either it's too early in the night or far too late. But it's always Sunday and you always manage to witness it every time.

You unlocked the door to your small place and darkness welcomes you, killing your spirit a little more. Twist the knife in.

"Look who decided to finally show up." You almost jump ten feet into the air, eyes widening in shock at the sight of Heeseung sitting, crossed arms on your couch.

Like a fucking creep.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you genuinely wonder, settling down upon the steps to take off your shoes. They have been feeling uncomfortable the whole ride, an itch you wish to scratch away. You hear Heeseung’s footsteps behind you.

"Where the hell were you? I was so worried you just disappeared."

"Okay dad." You roll your eyes, untying your shoelaces.

"I'm serious yn, that was fucked up. You just walked out without telling us anything."

He's right. And you know he’s right, an apology hangs at the tip of your tongue but in the same moment you reach into your shoe to feel a rough crumpled up piece of paper. With furrowed brows, you pull it out. Heeseung’s scolding continues yet your focus is displaced, you peel it open and everything around you feels like it stops moving for a second. The wheels in your brain coming to a halt at the digits staring back at you. 10 to be exact with PSH signed at the corner.

He gave you, his number.

Something in you blooms, like splashes of color on a blank canvas, manifesting to life with a smile against your will.

"Yn." Heeseung calls, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts, shoving the piece of paper into the pockets of your sweatpants.

"Yeah?"

"You okay? You have been off lately." His hands are on your shoulder, squeezing.

“I’m okay.” You assure, standing up to face him with a smile. This time it’s not enough to subdue the concern lingering in his eyes.

“What happened today?”

You knew the question was coming, and you knew hiding the truth from Heeseung is something you never succeed in, but you still feel yourself growing slightly nervous perhaps due to the irrational actions that you, yourself are embarrassed of.

Taking out the piece of paper from the confines of your pocket, you hand it to him. He raises his eyebrow in confusion but takes it from you, nonetheless. His eyes dart rapidly between the paper and you

"I'm confused?"

"Mr. glasses." recognition fills his expression as he looks at the paper once more.

"PSH? That's him?" You nod "His number?" you nod once again.

"I was at his apartment earlier- well more like penthouse but yeah." you explain, playing with your fingers.

"Right." He says slowly, evidently still befuddled with the amount of information you’re daunting on him out of nowhere, you cannot find blame to fling at him not when you also cannot fathom what's going on with you recently.

"It's why I disappeared earlier - which I'm so sorry about. that was shitty of me. I just saw him and I-i-" you trail off, failing to find proper delineation to your actions.

"Hey." He ceases your rambling, “It’s okay. I'm not upset with you." He assures and you nod silently, yet with a glance at him it was apparent that he still has words in his mouth, if his pursed lips and twitch of brows anything to go by.

“Just say it.”

"You want fun Hee or logical Hee?"

“Oh god there's two." You wince and his pursed lips turn into a forced smile, one that he wears whenever he finds nothing to say at your usual discomfiture.

"Logic. Go on." You signal with your hand for him to speak, with defeat dousing your face.

"Okay." his eyes lock with yours seeming to be collecting his words "I can see you're enamored with this guy-"

"I'm not."

"You're into him-"

"No." you interrupt him once again and he tilts his head at you with that same look.

"you're not into him?” he asks, with a deadpan expression.

"I'm not that either." You mumble with a pout.

"Okay. whatever." he pulls you closer to him, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears with benign touches, you grow weak at the nice gesture.

"I just don't think it's a good time for you to be involved with anyone romantically." You keep quiet "You and Jae ended a couple months ago. Your dad passed away recently. You're grieving-"

"I'm not sad about Jaeyun." You tsk, his gaze softens, clouded with disquiet.

"You're grieving your dad, yn."

You always envied Heeseung. You never told him that. But you did ever since you were kids running around his backyard and he’d cry if he fell, complain if he’s hurt. You envied how he knew exactly how he felt. How he was never confused. He knew how to figure out his emotions, knew how to wear them proudly and what labels to stamp on them. Scratch that, he knew what to call yours.

Grief? you? you never know what you’re feeling. All you know is either black or white. Sometimes it's too dark. Your vision cannot see past your feet and other times it's the lightest white a human could ever experience, it’s blinding. Yet your black lasts months upon months. While your white usually feels like evanescent heaven, floating by with a blink, not enough for you to settle in, for your hands to clutch into anything.

Your blacks remain prevailing with counterfeit whites.

You chew on the inside of your cheek; your chest grows overwhelmed with the whirlwinds of emotions unraveling inside of you. you tell yourself you don’t want to shed tears – that you have no reason for agony to descend upon your cheeks. Yet pain spills into the cracks of your heart with familiarity, running down the same interchangeable patterns with a searing ache.

Your tears are persistent, filling your eyes with ineluctable force it makes you angry, feeding into your confusion. You can’t tell if you’re angry or sad anymore. You disentangle yourself from Heeseung’s embrace, turning your back to him as you melt upon the stairs of your doorway. Despicable tears fall from your eyes, silently colored with agony.

Heeseung wraps his arms around you once again, stubborn in being your comfort “I’m sorry.” He whispers, running his hands through your hair with tenderness that only flings you further into vexation.

“I can never forgive him.” Your words spill like an explosion of choked sobs, one that’s invoked by his hands traveling to your back with soothing swipes “It’s okay.” He tells and you could only shake your head with a heaving chest “now he's gone, and he never even apologized!" He pulls you further into his chest, a silly wish to take your pain for his "He's gone and it's so unfair because I have to deal with this."

"It's okay."

"I can never forgive him now." Your body is shaking violently with tormented weeping, a kind of heartbreak that cannot be caused by anything other than a parent.

"I wanted to." Your eyes flit to his and he can only nod at you with faith, his own eyes sparkling with unshed water "now I can't."

As you bury your face into his chest, his hold only grows tighter around you, with cravings to pacify your storms. You don’t know how much time passes by with you curled into his arms. It’s only when your sobs have died down, your breathing has settled and your tears have dried that he speaks;

"Angel?" he calls, carefully and you hum back an answer,

"What happened?" He asks, "You never told me what he did." Your mind goes blank, not finding enough words to explain. A strange numbness replaces the ache in your chest.

“Do you wanna make hot chocolate and watch shameless?” you ask, tipping your head back to look at him.

“Of course.” He smiles, standing up and offering his hand to you, a warmth envelope your body as you take it.

As Heeseung makes it to the kitchen before you, you linger by the stairs, eyes glued to the piece of paper that had ended up on the floor, picking it up, you brush your fingers over the initials.

"Come on! I'm not making yours!" Heeseung yells from the kitchen.

"Coming." You reply, tearing the paper into two and throwing it in the trash bin.

Your blacks remain prevailing with counterfeit whites.

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icejjfishesz · 5 months

Text

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ❜

chapter no. 000!

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀CONTENT : angst-ish. reader is lowk insecure and paige is lowk not good at reassurance (its for the plot trussst)

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀ WORD COUNT : 637

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : lmk if yall like this or not!

THERE WAS A TIME WHERE PAIGE KISSING YOU, having you underneath her warm lips, was the best thing that could happen to you. you loved how human it was. how natural it felt for her to be on top of you, her body heat engulfing you. whenever you were together; it was like you entered a little bubble…one where only you and her existed.

but everything is temporary, (including humanity, apparently) because one november night, she had you pinned against her bed and all you can think about is how much you hate the feeling. you’re alone together now, in the private comfort of her apartment. the blinds were drawn shut but it wouldn’t matter because by now midnight had already rolled in and everyone looking in was most likely sleeping. you had her to yourself, finally –– nothing about the setting was unusual, most of the alone time you and paige had was past 11pm. she only loved you in the dark.

but it wasn’t enough anymore.

perhaps you had gotten greedy, finding yourself wanting to hold her hand in less private spaces. you’d been with her for months, six to be exact, and yet it felt pointless. she wouldn’t tell anyone. she said she loved you but she couldn’t tell anyone. and it didn’t help that she was possibly the biggest flirt most likely ever. she pulled away, noticing your lack of usual enthusiasm.

“is something wrong?” three words that jump started the end of the relationship—if you could even call it that. it was inauspicious at best, nonexistent at worst. that was your greatest fear when it came to the two of you––that there was really nothing there. those three, almost dismissive words, completely shattered you.

you bite your tongue but it’s futile. when you open your mouth again the words escape before you even realize it, much less stop yourself from saying them. “why did you say that?”

“cause you’re being weird and i wanna know what’s up?” she says in an obvious tone, confused as to why you’d even question her motives for trying to know what’s wrong with her girlfriend.

“no, not that.” you sigh, realizing your vagueness. “earlier.”

paige’s confused expression doesn’t lift for even a moment, in fact, it seems to increase.

“to the girl at the shop. when she asked if you had a girlfriend.” you reply simply, annoyed that the situation clearly meant nothing to her when it meant everything to you. at the moment, at least. “you said you weren’t looking for a relationship.”

“well, that’s not exactly a lie.” she’s mostly joking but it’s clear that you didn’t take it that way. your hand, which was running up and down the length of her spine subconsciously, stops abruptly. her words are spoken lightheartedly but they suffocate you.

“i just mean…i’m kinda with you, y’know? so i’m not actively looking.” she doesn’t know why that’s what she chose to say in that moment and those words would prove to haunt her for long after.

“would it kill you to call me your girlfriend?”

she pauses, tensing like she always does whenever you talk labels. her silence is the worst answer. her silence is indifference. she doesn’t care, of course she doesn’t. why would you even expect her to? it was clear she only wanted a good time from you.

so you decided to make this easy for her. by saying what she never ever wanted you to say to her. you sit up, standing from the bed. “i think it’s best if we don’t keep seeing each other.”

she hates how formal you sound. she hates even more how she can’t say anything. she hates how she can’t speak even when you gather your things to leave her. she let you go, too frozen to stop you.

#anything but you ✹ꯣ #paige bueckers x reader

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threepandas · 2 months

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Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

Next: ->

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

There Are Nothing But Flowers

Summary: You want to play house and he’s just hungry.

Word Count: 11.3K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), Modern AU, Vampire AU, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, TW: Medical gaslighting, description of medial treatments & corruption, TW: Blood & Blood drinking, vague mentions of violence, Contract Marriage AU, slight! enemies to lovers, Slow burn, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation, creampie, slight corruption kink, temperature play? you fall hard, slow fic, tragedy.

Authors note: This is the other side to this work, your side of the story, please read the tags carefully. I wanted to explore the other side of the garden wall and themes of mortality, it’s heavy, please read when you feel well enough to see what lies beyond. Enjoy.

Side note: the aftermath

“Honey, I’ll be off to work now.” A dapper man straightens out his tie, a briefcase in his other hand.

“Dear…aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Are my pants unzipped again?” His eyes darted down as disembodied laughter rang out in the unseen background.

“No, you forgot this.” The pattering of house slippers stops as the woman cradles her lover's face between her hands.

The kiss from her immaculately painted lips melted the wrinkles from his forehead as the taller man leaned into his deserved affection.

“Have a good day at work, my love.”

—

A quiet house on the hill, white picket fences, and a lovely dog wagging its tail in the green yard. Eyes watching the vibrancies dance along a small screen, blocking out the gray in the peripheral.

Everything about this drama was cliché, the plot slow and predictable, just mediocre. So perfectly mundane that your hand itches to grab it through the screen like a thief. But are you really a thief if you steal back what was taken from you?

Before your mind can explore that comparison further a knock drags you out of the immersion, thumb quickly taps the screen to halt the fantasy.

“Good evening, ma’am.” The doctor in his white uniform enters.

“Hello, doctor.”

Two polite smiles greet each other, neither truly reaching the eyes. Your hands neatly folded together, his fiddling with the chipboard which held your verdict.

Observing how his teeth bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes scanned the charts. Your hands remain still even as he takes a deep breath.

“Unfortunately it has spread beyond our initial expectations. The results show that it’s progressed to a late stage despite our best efforts. Right now, you only have a few treatment options left.”

What happened to ‘just that time of the month’, ‘just get fresh air’, and ‘just give it some time’?

“There’s a series of procedures to cut out the spread, however, it might be very difficult as the infection is deep and intertwined with healthy tissue. The success rate is low, and the probability of it coming back is very high.”

What happened to ‘you’re young and healthy, it’s nothing’?

“The next possible treatment would be Kalpalata Lotuses. It has properties to slow inflections and has pain-reducing effects, however, it’s slow and inefficient in the long run. If you choose the first option you’ll have to pair it with treatment two. The first could give you fourteen years, the second on its own might only give you half of that.”

What were these past months spent behind a glass prison all for?

The constant hum of the machines filled in the dead space, the beeps on the monitors counting the passing seconds as two lips remained closed.

From the hallways, the chattering of nurses provided proof that the world in fact has not stopped spinning. Something dreadful filled the room, a silent suffocation. He was the first to fold.

“Please take your time to think this decision over, I’ll leave you to get some rest. Have a good night ma’am.” There was a flutter of pages folding back down to the clipboard.

The doctors were letting you pick your poison, how thoughtful of them.

Just as before two polite smiles that didn’t reach the eyes acknowledged each other, with a nod the doctor took his leave, eager to end his shift, to escape the unseen hands.

Not a word slipped past your lips during the one-sided conversation, tongue unable to string together a single sentence. What is there left to say?

As you lay back down your fingers brushed against the screen, restarting the episode as the laughter of an audience resonated along the sterile walls.

Maybe if the doctors, with their acclaimed degrees and status, were just a little more attentive.

Maybe if they didn’t simply see you as a lady with nonsensical symptoms.

Maybe if they didn’t view you as a statistic.

Then you wouldn’t have collapsed that day at work.

Then you wouldn’t have spent grueling months undergoing diagnosis after diagnosis.

Then maybe just maybe the Pythagorean Cup wouldn’t have surpassed its threshold, emptying out all hope.

The dialogue continues but it’s all but a fuzzy ringing now. Eyes watching the passing car lights dance upon the gray ceiling from the late evening traffic of workers, with their white or blue collars, eager to return home.

You longed for that, to return there. Hands itching to rip out the tube from your arm and the sensor with its pitched beeps.

Fourteen years, fourteen years of what? Bed sores from thin sheets? Chest pains at too deep of breaths? Stitches recovering only to be ripped open again?

Sounds more like a punishment delivered deep underground in a place whose temperature rivals the surface of a burning star.

Was it because you cursed at the man who cut you in line once?

Was it because you stole your college roommate’s sweater?

Was it because you never brought offerings to the Sanctuary of Surasthana?

Were you such a despicable person in a past life that the sins carried over?

Heavy lids closed to soothe the burning in your eyes, letting the warm trails run down your cheek. Reining your senses back from its escapade with a slow breath.

No. It’s none of that. It’s just life, capricious life. Capricious life that took your parents and now is hunting you.

There’s no karmic debt to pay off, there’s no faceless god to pray to. Setting one foot onto the path of true adulthood, only for your eyes to spot the end just over the horizon. What can you do?

The jumbled laughs and fuzzy speeches coming from your phone’s speaker were becoming too much. Thus you rolled your heavy body over to silence it. Once again the world outside the window was in view, the soft orange glow from the office right across leaking into the suffocating grey.

Oh, he’s at his desk tonight.

Wet eyes watch as the ashen-haired being shifts through sheets of crisp paper and his pen moving constantly. It’s strange, a bit mocking even, that an immortal creature could be so mundane.

Maybe that’s why their office is just across the Bimarstan, to taunt those who longed for that reality, beckoning them to sign their names on a dotted line.

Candace’s words were right, it’s a predatory scheme.

Perhaps hold habits die hard, after all, vampires are creatures of the night that once terrorized generations of humans.

Shielded by the panes of glass separating the two buildings, it was safe to continue this strange routine. Is staring at a stranger considered stalking if they’re the only view the windows offer?

He got up from his desk, moving towards the filing cabinet just off to the side, allowing for his profile to come into view.

He’s handsome, features outshining any of the male leads you’ve seen in movies.

Teal eyes, ashen hair like moonlight, tall and broad stature. It’s no mystery why so many heroes and heroines fell into depravity, lured in by their beauty, entranced minds blindly offering up their everything.

You weren’t special enough to be immune. Hence, why you continued to watch the nameless vampire who doesn’t know yours. Resting your cheek upon the stiff pillow, the feeling in your arm decreases like the cars in the streets. The pitched beeps keeping time.

He stood back up from his desk again, one hand grabbing the coat thrown over the back of a chair. Placing pens back into a cup and paper back into folders, he walks to the door before his hand shuts off the warm orange light.

It looks like tonight’s episode has ended on time like always. Rolling back to stare at the drab ceiling, allowing blood to rush back into your arm as the sensation of pins and needles crawled up. It wasn’t bothersome, as tonight's viewing evoked entertaining thoughts.

What a punctual vampire, where does he go after midnight? To a tavern or home?

Is someone waiting at the door for him there? Welcoming him back with soft lips?

Is that why he’s so eager to leave?

Your lids were growing heavy, the view of a blank ceiling wanes your alertness. The sweet curiosities coax you to continue in the realm of dreams, you listened to their call.

Could you be that someone?

“So, how ya feeling?” Dehya places down a container filled with baklava.

“Mmm…”

The metal legs of the visitor's chair scraped across the floor as she awaits your response.

“Would you still be my friend if I was a rock, Dehya?”

“Ahh, not this again.” She rolls her eyes.

Sitting upright in the hospital bed, hands folded together you awaited her response.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll still love you to bits even if you’re a pebble or something,” Dehya sighs, but there’s an upward tilt in her lips.

“I’ll love you too.” You helped yourself to some baklava.

A reward for your diversion of a miserable topic with sweet nonsense and special words. After all, she’s got a difficult job during the night, no need to make the day as difficult. Your mother used to say to save such words only for a special someone, but that’s the point of a word if it's never used?

–

“So, a few weeks ago I took this assignment that–” Dehya’s sapphire eyes moved behind you, gazing out the window where the sunlight poured in.

“Ugh, his office is right across from you.”

“Who?”

“Alhaitham, he’s a vampire I had the misfortune of meeting during a job, not that he’d remember.”

So the vampire’s name was Alhaitham, it felt nice on your tongue.

“Oh? How come?”

“He just always talks in long, convoluted sentences, and in that snooty tone, snooty even for a vampire.” Dehya takes a piece of baklava to ease her from that bitter work experience.

“My, I wonder how his spouse bares with him.” The bait was set out.

“Pfft?! Ahaha! Who? It’s nearly impossible to spend five minutes by his side.”

“Mm, really?”

“No ring on his finger. From what I’ve gathered even other vampires can’t stand that personality of his.” Dehya takes another piece.

Success.

–

The container of baklava now only holds a few crumbs and traces of sweet syrup. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, a sign that your friend’s visit was coming to an end.

After all, she’s got a duty to fulfill as a hunter that maintains the balance between mortals and creatures who dare cross the boundaries of the law.

Right as your hand returns from the air after bidding goodbye, it lands on the cold screen of your phone. In an age of growing cities and ever-advancing technologies, you’re grateful for these developments. As it makes your next actions possible.

It’s hard to miss a name when the letters are written in bold, imposing signs along the building just beyond the panes of glass.

As per Sumeru regulation, all employed vampires must be listed on company sites, an attempt at keeping track of such creatures.

Scrolling page after page until eyes landed upon familiar ash-mint trusses.

Name: Alhaitham

Species: Vampire (Born)

Title: Secretary

Years At Company: 168

Fingers clicked on the next tab.

“To apply for a blood contract, one must bring personal identification, and fill out an application during an appointed consultation with the vampire present. Once the boundaries of the contract are established, it will go through the approvement process.”

Eyes moved to the next tab.

“Seven years is the maximum time for a singular contract, but it can be renewed every seven years. Both parties must fulfill the terms written on the contract. The value of a contract is determined by the amount of blood offered on a regular basis or in a future deposit. Applying for a contract that gives the maximum, 10 pints, in a full sum amount must pass a psychological evaluation.”

Fourteen years is an unjustly cruel fate, but seven… Seven might be tolerable. After all, it’s often called the number of luck, you wonder if vampires were aware of this, maybe that’s why they chose that arbitrary number.

Waiting as the sun disappears behind the horizon with your head resting against the stiff pillow. The warm orange glow from the office across from you signaled the start of tonight’s episode. Observing every stop and start of his pen as two voices wrangled your thoughts.

There was a guest featured in this episode it seems, another vampire enters the office with a fresh stack of paper. He seemed eager for Alhaitham’s approval, even going as far as offering a pen out from his own pocket. However, this plan was foiled by a simple rise of hand by the male lead.

The universal signal for rejection.

The guest seemed dumbstruck. The only explanation the silver-haired lead gave was a simple gesture toward a clock. The guest’s hands were moving frantically as if to convey the urgency of the papers piled up.

However, Alhaitham simply takes his coat from the back of his chair and shuts off the warm light.

In the murky darkness, your eyes could just barely make out the silhouettes of two figures traversing out of the office. Oh, tonight’s episode has ended just on time as always.

How shamelessly punctual that vampire is. Some might even call it selfish. But what’s wrong with being selfish? After all, all true passions in life in the end are thinly veiled excuses for selfishness.

If life wanted to be shamelessly selfish, then why can’t you? With that, it seems one voice has finally emerged victorious.

Your fingers crept towards a button just off to the side, a quiet ding resounding as the bright glow flashed. Breaths counting the minutes before a set of footsteps stopped in front of your room, followed by a polite knock.

“Is there something you need, ma’am?”

“Yes, I want to discharge myself tomorrow, as soon as possible.”

Your eyes traced over the too-long string of zeros printed on the check, hands wanting to crumble up the slip of paper. So this is how much your life was worth. Standing outside the Bimarstan, you peered up at the tall building that once caged you.

Were the administrators looking down at you at this moment from their high offices? Were they watching your reaction to their little bribe? Pushing you to keep your lips shut, so that their mistakes and misjudgments won’t reach the ears of the press?

It doesn’t really matter now, but it was thoughtful of them to hand out an extra bargaining chip. Refocusing your attention back on the building just across the street, there were still some preparations to finish.

–

The time was now 6:30 pm, the sun has ran off into the night allowing for the stars to guide you back to the building just beyond the glass.

A simple bag held your offerings: proof of identity, property documents, doctor's notes, and bank statements handsomely topped off with the help of a certain check.

There’s a jitter in your legs as you stood just beyond the threshold of the sliding doors. Is it really the right thing to do?

What would be the look on the faces of your dearest friends?

Would the handsome stranger show last night’s gesture to you too?

Your lungs steadily filled with the crisp air, pushing their capacity almost to the point of pain, you exhaled.

The right thing to do is to be selfish, they’ll understand sooner or later, and the worst thing he could do is say no.

Even if you leave with your cheeks burning in shame, the burn would only last seven years. Your feet stepped past the threshold and the glass doors parted.

“Excuse me, is Mr. Alhaitham here tonight?” You already knew the answer.

“Hm? Yes… Are you looking for him, youngster?” The receptionist quirks a brow at you.

“Yes, I want to schedule a contract consultation with him right now.” You take note of her name tag.

“Hold just one moment, the secretary-”

“Is his schedule occupied right now?”

“No, but if you’d let me finish, Alhaitham isn’t one of the vampires that usually accept such-”

“Please, Madam Faruzan?”

You weren’t sure if it was the polite address of her name or the plead in your gaze that was the cause of the decisive furrow between her brows. However, her shoulders slumped forward as a huff leaves her lips.

“Alright, please follow me.” She gestures a hand, welcoming you to the elevator just behind the desk.

“Thank you.”

Within the confines of the fancy cart, the blue-haired vampire asks over and over if you had all the correct documents, listing each one out. Your skilled ears tuned every word out, nodding along to feign attention. Finally, the saving grace of a pleasant ding signals the chart’s stop at its destination.

When the polished doors slid apart, you charged out into the floor, your legs guiding you to the office with the clearest view of your old glass cage.

From behind you, Faruzan called out your name as she mutter something about how humans these days are always in just a rush. Your ears could care less about her words.

Gallivanting through the threshold of his open office door, you finally came face to face with the male lead you’ve been fawning over.

As his eyes meet yours, you observed the brilliant shades of teal and ocher in them. Really, the view from across two panes of glass couldn’t detail his true beauty.

“Hello, Mr. Alhaitham.” You beamed your best smile.

The pattering of steps behind you comes to a stop as Faruzan finally catches up exasperated at your impatience.

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.”

The weight of his teal gaze shifted back on your frame after your late introduction, assessing the situation as you awaited his response.

“I see.” He nods while walking out from behind the desk, pulling out the chair in front of it.

The receptionist took her cue to leave the room, shutting the office door on the way out. The room now balanced with just one mortal and one immortal.

You paid no mind to his words as you settled down into the seat, after all, you’ve already read through them. Instead, your ears absorbed his timbre tone and smooth cadence. What a dangerously beautiful voice, it’s beckoning you towards the murkier waters.

“What are your demands?”

“Marry me.” Your lips blurted the truth out before shame got the chance to stop them.

Remember, the worst he could do is to show you the door.

–

In truth, you were preparing yourself to see the open palm of his large hand as he rejects your ridiculous proposal. Yet, here you were, still in his office. Sitting just across the expanse of his dark oak desk, all your documents scattered across it as Alhaitham’s pen guided across a form.

“What are the living arrangements you expect?” He doesn’t glance up from the paper.

“Mm… Would moving into your home be possible? Married couples usually live together.”

“That’s possible. Expectations for domestic and financial responsibilities?”

“I can’t work, so I don’t mind taking care of the house. But, I do want us to share some chores, so I don’t go insane.” You wonder if the ends of his lips would curl at your humor.

“I see.” The pen continues to record the sentences down on the form.

You kept the smile up despite the sting of failure.

“So… How much blood do vampires need?” Best to move on.

“It depends. Humans can give at most two pints of blood safely, and only once every two months.”

“You only need to feed once every two months?”

“Yes, would that be an issue?”

Lips parted, your next sentence dangles just off the tip of it. However, it seems that Alhaitham had already read them.

“Mortal medicine has no effect on our bodies.”

“Are there any restrictions on affection? Any personal boundaries?” You pivoted to another question.

The pen stops for a moment, his teal eyes shifting off the paper for just a brief moment as he evaluates numerous scenarios, or at least that’s what you think he’s doing.

“Deep kisses are not permitted.” Alhaitham’s teal eyes pierced straight into yours as he delivered the verdict.

It’s silly really, you really don’t have the right to demand an ounce of touch from him, you aren’t entitled to his personal space. However, something still made your stomach sink.

“Oh?... May I ask why?”

“There runs the risk of blood contamination through exchanging saliva, our incisors are quite sharp.”

Oh. You read between the lines he penned down. The most sacred law of this age, a time where mortals and immortals walk alongside each other: vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings.

He’s being precautious, after all the price he’d have to pay for a drop of his blood tainting yours is far greater than anything you could offer. Yet, the greed deep within you wouldn’t stay silent.

“Are closed-mouth kisses okay then?” Haggling the clauses like you were at a market stall.

Once more the pen stops as he contemplates your bargain.

“Yes.”

“The contract has been submitted to the legal department. If you pass the evaluation, it’ll be approved by the end of this month. I look forward to your cooperation.”

And with his disembodied voice over the phone, he accepts your proposal. Alhaitham agreed to play the role of your husband. The anticipation that weighed down your shoulders for the past three days was finally lifted. Hopefully he can’t hear your idiotic grin through the phone.

Success.

—

“No, I won’t accept this.” Dehya slams her glass down, unfazed by the glances from surrounding tables.

“Please reconsider your decision.” Candace gives you her disapproving gaze.

Shifting your eyes over to Nilou, poor sweet Nilou whose wide eyes could only convey the word ‘why?’. The interrogation after showing the ring to your dearest friends was much more intense than the evaluation you underwent to get the marriage approved.

However, it’s to be expected. After all, two of the people at this table were hunters. If anyone knew the true brutality vampires hold, it would be them.

Tapping on the screen of your phone to reveal the time. Of course, you won’t arrive at this negotiation unprepared. Glancing back up to face the counsel of your friends, a honeyed smile on your lips.

“Would you guys have the time to accompany me to a doctor’s visit?”

–

That took longer than you expected, walking out of the sliding glass doors which reflect the everchanging hues of dusk. The cause for this extended session at the Bimarstan was the numerous times your dearest guests made the poor doctor repeat your verdict.

Each time hoping that something different would leave his mouth. Peering up at the building across the street, you wonder if he’s getting ready to leave the house soon.

The closing of the automatic doors draws your attention back to the three figures who followed behind you. Pensiveness eyes downcasted as their minds continued to digest the events that have unfolded.

“Pfft! What’s with this atmosphere?” A giggle leaves your breath, it’s unbefitting for a gathering of friends.

“I won’t force you to attend my wedding if you don’t want to. However, I’ll be quite the lonely bride without any bridesmaids.” There was your honeyed smile again.

They could say no, they could beg you to drink the first poison offered by the doctors, they could ask you to give them more time, to give yourself more time. But they won’t. You knew they won’t.

Unlike you, they’re selfless and heedful, all your fortune in life must’ve been spent on finding such dear friends.

You’re the only selfish one.

There are many things you like about Alhaitham. Even excluding his excellent physique, his starlight hair and beryl-citrine eyes, he’s got the perfect traits of a life partner. He satisfies all the aspects of the ideal husband. Never leaving you wanting or hungry. You could list all his positive traits.

–

One, by simply holding out a hand, he’ll place his black card onto your awaiting palm. Not even batting an eye when you returned home from a ‘simple grocery run’ in a new set of clothes with the tags still on.

When you mentioned to him that a TV would look nice on the empty living room wall, he ordered one on the same day. How dreamy.

–

Two, he’s quite the interesting specimen.

“So, if someone were to douse you with blessed water, your flesh won’t burn?”

“No.”

Alhaitham humors your ridiculous inquires about his species, enlightening you to just how inaccurate those films and shows you loved were.

He even humors the trivial anniversaries, celebrations, and dates inspired by any recent dramas you fancied. The wedding was proof enough: he tolerates your fantasies.

–

Three, what you liked most of all: he’s too smart to ask redundant questions. After all, he’s read the files, he’s seen the diagnosis.

It’s not some secret that shall not be told, not a monster that shall not be named. Just like how there’s no point in telling someone the sky is blue, there’s nothing left to say about the doctor's notes.

No surprises, no sudden alarms, just the artificially sweet lull of domestic life.

–

Performing the part of a doting husband with such spectacular accuracy, you could almost mistake it as sincere.

You applaud the amount of skill it takes. However, costars are meant to bring out the best in each other, pushing one another past their thresholds for an excellent show.

The slightest blunders of lines and facial muscles couldn’t fool your expert gaze. It does take one to know one.

–

“Haitham,” you called out.

Setting down the two servings of biryani on the dinner table, the rich spices perfumed through the halls. It only takes one call for Alhaitham to come out from his library, halting for a second at the threshold of the kitchen before swiftly composing himself once more.

“Dinner is ready, it’s biryani tonight.” You gestured for him to take a seat, a smile ever present on your lips.

“Thank you.” He takes his place.

You take your place just across the table, wasting no time enjoying the fruit of labor after standing over a stove. Every grain of rice perfectly coated in the right amount of seasoning, just the correct level of richness. The recipe you followed online deserved its high rating, it’s delicious.

Traveling across the length of the dinner table, your leaden gaze landed upon the figure who has yet to touch his meal. That must’ve been enough for him to take his cue, bringing a spoon full into his mouth, chewing then shallowing.

“How is it?” Resting an elbow on the polished oak.

“You’ve worked hard on this dish, thank you.” He takes another bite.

Letting out a pleased hum, you released him from this scene. Turning your attention back to your own meal.

You’ll clear your plate in about twenty more bites, and he’ll continue to push the contents of his plate around once in a while faking a bite. Then after you’re finished, he’ll swiftly offer to clear the table and dishes, telling you to retire to the bedroom for rest.

A clever diversion from his ultimate goal of dumping your cooking into the trash. You’ve gone through this script for two years now.

It’s practically impossible to completely suppress one’s true intentions and instincts. Alhaitham can’t fully prevent the corners of his lips from down-turning every time you address him with that botched nickname.

He can’t entirely stop the sigh escaping his lips whenever you call for him to help with menial tasks, unbefitting for such a noble creature.

He can’t suppress the repulsive scrunch of his nose every time your cooking assaults his palate, the same reaction witnessed during the bi-monthly feeding sessions.

The same disgust he has of your blood, you thought mortal medicines has no effect on such beings, an oversight on his part.

He’s not as much of a mastermind as he might think, after all, he’s the one who allowed a piece of paper to be dangled over his head. Placing the power of clauses into the palm of your awaiting hand.

You tell him ‘jump’, and he’ll ask how high with disdain thinly veiled behind brilliant teal.

Humans are defined by their curiosity and greed, mortal hands always playing chicken with a boundary, testing how far they could go. You’re not special enough to be different.

Perhaps the only time he gets the advantage is when you bare your neck for him. Fangs hastily piercing skin, hands a bit too harsh around the neck. He wants it to hurt, you know.

Too bad, months spent at the hospital trained your tolerance to such sensations.

If life wants to entangle its fingers into your hair and cruelly tow you to and fro, why can’t you enjoy that same feeling? You’ll just grasp at any wisp of control, you’re a simple human after all. You’d even grasp onto death to stable yourself.

Mortal self-interest versus immortal apathy, what a disastrous harmony.

Ah, you slept a bit too long. Extended nap causing you to miss a scheduled cup of tea. Tapping a finger along the cool marble countertop you watched the kettle boil.

Frame resting against the counter, each tap against the marble was a futile attempt at distraction. Kalpalata Lotus’ effects can only last four hours, what a shame.

The steady rhythm of taps interrupted now and then by a pulse of pain as the leaves steeped. Starting deep within your core then crawling it’s up to your lungs like a shadow overtaking a frail flower.

This must be your warranted punishment for a transgression committed over the weekend. Dragging a creature of the night into the bright, unwelcoming sun all for a silly farmer’s market. Alhaitham’s slumped figure and worn tone were the cue.

You thought vampires weren’t like how the drama portrayed them, but perhaps there’s some truth, an oversight on your part.

You played chicken with that boundary and got burned, how will you soothe the wounds of guilt now?

Foregoing honey this time, you hastily swallowed the entire contents of the cup. No matter how fast you push the tea down your throat, no matter how many spoonfuls of honey you put into it: it’s unpalatable.

The herbal tang dried the inside of your mouth, yet the bitterness made your salivary glands go into overdrive. This is what purgatory is like, huh?

The chime of your ringtone snapped you back to reality. Glancing over at the screen: Candace. A call so late, she’s at work now, isn’t she?

Swiftly pushing down the bitterness that lingered, clearing your throat before accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, how are you feeling, any discomfort?”

“Pfft! The diligent Candace gets on her phone during work just to check up on me? I’m swooned.” Your bell-like laughter made the pain worse as it rang through the empty house.

From the other side, you could pick up the faint giggle, you envision her fighting back a smile.

“Yes, yes. But more importantly, where are you now?”

“Home, why? Did you want to visit? I got some baklava.”

“Good, stay there.” There’s an instant switch to the mood.

“Mm?” You hummed, passively acknowledging the tension.

“Please stay inside. There’s a rouge vampire at large, hunters are scattered all throughout the city.”

Leaving you with a cliffhanger, she knew you’d want a taste of the details. You’ll bite.

“Oh? That serious, what did they do?”

“He turned his lover.”

Goosebumps ran up your neck in the perfectly tempered room. That vampire crossed the forbidden line in the sand, straight into the ocean of inevitable demise.

The most sacred rule results in the most miserable end. Once caught, his chest will be pierced with silver, heart torn from his body. She doesn’t need to detail those, you already knew.

“Oh?”

“His lover has been located, they’re receiving treatment, unsure of the status. However, you should tell your husband to be careful.”

“I should be saying that to you. Stay safe out there, he’s probably on his way back anyways.” Your eyes glanced at the clock, 11: 59 pm.

“Alright, I will. You should really rest, it’s so late.”

“Mm? Says you, Candace. Tell Dehya I said to stay out of trouble.”

She hums in response. Right after you chimed your farewell and right before she disconnected the call, you slipped in one more line.

“Please stay safe.” Addressed to no one person in particular.

–

The hands on the clock now read 3: 21 am, a fresh cup of tea now rested in between your hands. Eye reflecting back at you, still no message, not a single call. His voicemail now ingrained into your ears.

In an age where humans and vampires now live side by side, it’d be naive to believe that such arrangements are free from prejudice. After all, centuries of fear and hatred don’t just vanish into the air like the vapors of hot tea.

If a vampire is slain during a hunt, a creature unrelated to the true prey, oh well.

It was for the greater good, it was to maintain the peace, to ensure humanity’s safety. You’re not in the mood to debate such flimsy excuses.

–

It’s now 4: 34 am, the blushing hues of dawn were just about to creep through the curtains by the front door. Your legs begged for rest, your shoulders heavy, but you refused to leave your post.

Finally, the clink of keys slotting into place sang through the entranceway. The heavy oak door opens, you don’t need to study his expression, he’s disappointed to see you.

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your command.

“I went drinking with coworkers.”

You know, you could smell it on him.

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?”

Alhaitham doesn’t bother to suppress his deep exhale, nor the downward tug at his lips. Disdain meets disappointment, eyes and frowns locked into a staredown as the hands of a clock kept time.

In the peripheral you spot warm orange chasing away the pink, clearing the way for the most brilliant star. Oh, it looks like your wound wasn’t soothed enough. You closed your eyes.

What went wrong with the script?

You.

It’s not selfishness, it’s plain immaturity. Immaturity breeds cruelty. The same immature cruelty of a curious child who ripped off the hypnotically beautiful wings of a butterfly.

Perhaps the corruption of your tissues has made its way into your personality, an unforeseen consequence of that herbal tea. Or maybe your transgressions were the influence of a green-eyed monster. Immortality gives him an overabundance of what you’re deprived of.

But it’s not his fault, it’s not an unseen monster’s fault, it’s your immaturity that’s ruining this performance.

This just won’t do. With the script going awry long ago, there’s no use in trying to follow it, the two of two should conserve your energy.

It’s best to rewrite it again, to say lines that’ll move the scene along in the right direction, to save this domestic drama. You’ll be the first to fold.

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed.

Lids opening back up to catch his gaze again, restrained and artificially blank as always. Still, he’s got beautiful eyes.

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

Alhaitham knows that, so his lips remain still.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call, I got worried.”

Another deep exhale from him.

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either. But if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text, so I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.”

The discoloration under your eyes, the slump of your heavy shoulders, and the unsteadiness of your knees. He’s observing them all, isn’t he? A pro-actor accesses the situation before deciding how to respond to an ad-lib.

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers.

What a typical response for him, but maybe not so much for a husband.

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know: ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted.

You’ll suppress your giggles for now, this successful pivot of a dreadful scene caused a grin to break out on your face. One that reaches your eyes.

Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek, tying the ending together with repetition that’s now become a habit.

“Welcome home, Haitham.”

“Closed… for construction?...” Your eyes trailed across the bolded letters.

The grand garden was blocked off by iron gates and mossy stonewalls, path dimly lit by dull streetlamps.

It’s your third anniversary, to celebrate a new chapter, a reworked script, you planned this special itinerary. The Pardis Dhyai was the grandest garden in all of Sumeru, and they offered night tours. It was perfect, but it seems that you miscalculated.

“It’s negligence on their part for not having this notification on their website.” Alhaitham’s baritone voice draws you from your thoughts.

You must look so idiotic right now. Getting all dressed up and even coaxing him from the comfort of the house just to bring Alhaitham to a wall. You didn’t fight the slump of your shoulders, the fires of shame licked at your cheeks. You feel the weight of his teal eyes.

“The street market is open tonight, would you like to go there instead?”

What a good husband, stepping in to remedy his wife’s mistakes. Finally gathering the courage to connect with his gaze, you notice the faint twitch of his nose as a breeze passed by.

“Do you not like flowers?”

“Their fragrance is overbearing.”

Recalling the times you’ve shoved an excessive bouquet in front of his face during previous anniversaries, the familiar burn of guilt crept up your back. You just can’t do anything right tonight, huh?

“There’s no point in standing around.” He stretched out a hand towards you, palms waiting.

“... Heh, it’s a good thing it’s closed then huh, Haitham?” Placing your warm hand into his cold grasp, a meek smile stretches your lips.

Alhaitham hums in response, mercifully guiding you in the direction of the night market. As you walked along the dimly illuminated path, your eyes traveled back to the stonewall once more, its height towering even over your husband.

“I’ve never visited this place before… what a shame…” The comment slipped your tongue before you could bite it back.

Alhaitham promptly stops, turning back to glance between you and the mossy wall. The lullabies of crickets filled the nothingness, much like they did during the wedding night. The smile on your face grew tighter, he must think you’re whining.

“Woah??-”

Before you could conquer up a line to transition from this scene, Alhaitham had released your hand, only for his arms to hoist you off the ground.

Tender hold balancing you against his firm frame, you had to tilt your neck down to look at his face. Following the subtle motion of his head you looked in the same direction, eyes widening as realization dawned upon you.

The garden wall towered over the two of you, but as one, you were able to peer over the craggy barrier that once blocked your view. Wind blowing the floral fragrance over your face unobstructed.

“What do you see?” The deep vibrations of his chest resonate against your body.

There was no one here tonight. Just a husband and wife enjoying a moment so private, not even the moon dare intrude. Sweetness meddling with bitter guilt, crafting something bittersweet.

“Flowers…very beautiful flowers,” you answered, gazing beyond the stones.

“It’s a garden after all.”

“Pfft!”

The contrast between this gentle scene and his curt response pushes a laugh from your breath.

Patting his arm, you signaled for him to place you down, and carefully he follows your instruction. Once your feet touched the solid earth again, you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s our anniversary.” The justification of his actions.

“Of course… now let’s go, I want to try the samosas there!” The brightness returns back to your lips.

This time, you lead the way. Warm hands mingle with his cold ones, creating a comfortable temperature as you gallivanted along as one. Under the moonless sky, you told him your first true lie, a full lie.

–

How troublesome, you said you’d clean the library tonight. Looking around at the piles of books littered all throughout and the coating of dust. If only a nap didn’t eat away at the day, then maybe you wouldn’t be so pressed for time.

Oh well, rolling up your sleeves to begin your promised duty. No use in mulling over it, and no use in blaming the nap either. It’s to be expected, after all, tea time is now every three hours.

Alhaitham’s collection of books is nothing to scoff at, in fact, you’re willing to wager his collection rivals those of academic archives.

How long did it take for him to gather them? What criteria must they fit to catch his interest?

Small inquiries bloomed through your thoughts as each journal slid back into its rightful shelves.

It can’t be helped. Finally, after four years, you’re now allowed past the threshold of his library. The last corner of the house which was wholly his. You’re allowed a glimpse into his sanctuary. The exhilaration from this privilege was enough to outweigh the tediousness.

Eyes switching back and forth between the two covers currently in your hands. So focused on deciding between which shelves to place them your ears failed to pick up the poised footsteps coming your way. It took a pair of adamant hands on your shoulders to wake you from these thoughts

“Why weren’t you at the door?” A familiar baritone voice.

Oh, you weren’t mindful of the time at all. Meeting teal irises as you glanced back over a shoulder, not missing the ghost of a furrow between his brow. Alhaitham isn’t one who’s fond of deviations from a practiced script.

“Sorry, sorry I got caught up in these books.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

Placing the books back down and spinning around, cradling his face between your warm palms, you carefully placed a kiss on his cold lips.

“Welcome home, Haitham.” You whispered against them.

Alhaitham hummed as his eyes closed, savoring the sensation of your warmth transferring to him. How unbefitting of such a noble creature, melting into the touch of a mere mortal. What a beautiful view to witness, so lovely in fact, a certain phrase clawed its way to the tip of your tongue.

“I...” You waited for his brilliant beryl eyes to reveal themselves again.

The soft trills of crickets creep in through the window, a call back to a night when an executive decision was reached by both parties to remove necessary lines from the script.

“… wonder if you collect books in place of company.” You’ll heed their warning.

There was a sigh that filled the distance between you.

“They’re great stimulants for the mind, perhaps you should read some.” No hesitation in his sardonic counter to your playfulness.

“Pfft! Haitham, I can’t read half of these languages.”

It’ll be redundant to reinstate such words into a script that wasn’t written for it no? A part of you wonders if the quip was supposed to be a diversion from the faint downward pull of his lips.

The windows were cracked ajar allowing the crisp night breeze into the sanctuary of the bedroom, the new air circulating through helped push out the stuffiness. However, Summer was always too hot for you.

“Haitham.” Under the glow of a waxing moon, your hands reached out.

Soon, the cool cheeks of your husband settled into the space between your palms, taking away the excess heat. You brought him closer, allowing your foreheads to touch.

To never be bothered by the polar extremes of temperature, how nice it is to be born of the supernatural.

“Mmm… It’s been a while, aren’t you hungry?” You broke the comfortable silence.

“I’m fine.” Two firm arms pulled you closer.

His gray lashes were still shut, concealing away the teal stained with hints of scarlet. A tell-tale sign. It’s about five years too late for him to lie to you. Like a stubborn child refusing to take his medicine, where did the arrogant vampire go?

It’ll be best to change tactics, everything must have its fair compensation, a principle Alhaitham follows to its core. Sliding your hands away from his face and down along the contour of his body as your face rests into the crook of his neck.

“It’s really hot tonight.” Warm palms sneaking under the barrier of a shirt.

There’s a hiss that sounds next to your ear as two hands firmly grasp your hips. Emboldened by his reaction, your hands continued to explore his sculpted frame, icy skin stealing away the warmth that smothered you. Alhaitham’s fingers kneaded your hips in contemplation. Moving closer to his ear, your breath ghosted over them.

“Haitham, can you make it go away?” The final push.

A deep growl reverberated against his chest, a sign of his surrender to your whims. A gasp is knocked out of your lips as your back meets with the plush mattress. This time two icy palms traversed the sweltering outline of your skin, goosebumps trailing behind his every touch.

You hummed at the sensation as his hands travel further up, pushing the troublesome fabric of your shirt out of the way, exposing your soft breast to the air. A moan slipped off your tongue as Alhaitham gropes at the soft mounds, placing a kiss in the valley between them, cold fingers playing with the nipples now perked.

Wrapping your legs around his solid frame, your hands tugged at the shirt that blocked your view of his godly body. A silent whine for him to take it off, and like the good husband he is, Alhaitham complies. In return, your shirt was also stripped from your frame, a fair trade. Cheeks stained red from shame your mind was too muddled to process, you blame it on the heat.

More icy kisses trailed along your chest and neck, as cool fingers sneaked under the waistband of your shorts. His icy touches land straight against your puffy lips, labia glistening with slickness. You flinched at the sudden temperature change against your pussy, and his hand twitched at the small surprise.

“Wet already, and nothing underneath…” Alhaitham’s baritone voice reports his finding against your ear.

“Mmm,” you sounded out, shivering at the combination of his voice and teasing fingers.

“How lewd.”

“You don’t like it?”

Instantly, a stiff mass was pressed against the softness of your thighs.

“Do I seem displeased?”

Entangling your fingers into ashen locks, you let a giggle flutter your chest against his. Two hearts beating on opposite sides. Shorts pulled off the length of your legs and kicked to the side, leaving you bare underneath his mercy.

Rolling your hips against his cool palms to generate some friction, your clit begging for an ounce of attention. A quick slap against the sensitive bud jolts your body as you moan, a swift punishment for your impatience.

As if to soothe the lingering sting, his fingers circle the bundle causing your legs to shiver as pleasure runs up them. Your folds release more of their essence, Alhaitham’s fingers collect it, tracing your entrance with fleeting touches. The heat engulfing your body was beginning to become too much, your walls clenching around nothing desperately. Your legs pull him closer, attempting to spur on the tempo.

Your feeble strength is nothing against his, Alhaitham effortlessly pulls away from your trap. A whine left your throat as even his ashen locks freed themselves from your grasp.

“Shh, let me have a taste first.” He pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

Vascular hands gripping onto your thighs, spreading them open to allow him unobstructed access to your dripping greed. A firm hold denies you the opportunity to slither away from the cool breaths hitting your pussy lips.

Alhaitham’s tongue teases its way between your folds, collecting your escaped honey into his mouth as he releases a satisfied grunt. Licking stripes along your pussy, cool lips brushing against your sensitive clit. Your fingers found their way back to his silken locks, the back of your hand blocking your mouth.

Objecting against your cruel act of denying him the privilege of your moans, a finger was abruptly thrusted into your soaked walls with a squelch, causing your back to arch off the sheets. Hand no longer able to withhold the sinful sounds from his awaiting ears.

Another finger soon makes its way into your gummy walls, sliding to curl against that one spot deep within before sliding out and repeating. All the while his lips closed around your delicate bud, suckling and abusing it with his brutish tongue.

He was supposed to cool you down in this unbearable heat, yet your body only burned more under his ministration. Your walls desperately clenched down as your fingers tightened their hold on his ashen hair, trying to find any perch for your sanity to cling to.

Your actions only spurred him on, harsh sucks to your swollen clit and fingers increasing their pace. He wanted to ravish you wholly, to leave you a mess beyond saving. White flashes shoot up your trembling legs still held apart by his iron grip. If he continues then you might really fall beyond the grace of help.

“S-slower.”

Your slurred speech must’ve made your words incoherent, as Alhaitham only added more force behind his movements. Your slicked walls clenched around his fingers as they continued to pinpoint your weak spot, the messy licks and sucks at your clit causing the knot in your core to grow tighter and tighter. Or maybe your husband is just too famished to know mercy.

Back raising off the bed, no matter how hard your fingers cling onto his hair and the messy sheets you couldn’t stop the fall off the edge as your eyes saw the back of your head. A broken moan resounded through the room. Hopefully, it’s too late for anyone on a late-night stroll past the open window. Every fiber of your being shivering and nerve overwhelmed with hot flashes of pleasure. All the while Alhaitham’s tongue never stopped its torture.

Laying bonelessly upon the ruined sheets, hands limp by your side. Your chest heaves trying to remember how to breathe as a large figure looms over you. Your quivering pussy reluctantly released his fingers as a string of slick connected them.

Unfocused eyes watch as your husband’s tongue cleans the essences off, making sure to clean every inch.

You felt so empty inside, the heat between your legs only escalating as your walls clenched around nothing. Was it the heat or pleasure that’s melting your mind? You don’t know and were too desperate to care. You wanted relief from the heat and judging by the hard shape pressed into your thigh, he needed relief too.

Wordless your nimble fingers reached down, curling over the waistbands of his pants and boxers you pulled them down. Finally freeing his cock, it slaps against his naval as the leaking precum spears across his exposed skin. Playfully, your finger toys with his swollen tip, gathering up the precum as a hiss leaves his clenched teeth.

Making sure to look directly into his piercing eyes, you brought the finger into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the digit and then pulling it out from your lips with an audible pop.

Your shameless behavior earned you a guttural growl from Alhaitham, soon your hand was pinned above your head. His face was just inches away, the brilliant teal of eyes now wholly glazed over with crimson. Everyone is warned to never play with fire, but it’s just too addicting to resist.

“Brazen girl,” he snarls.

You countered with a grin, cheeks a deep red, but what’s there to hide from someone who’s laid you bare numerous times before?

Sucking in a gasp as his thick tip rubbed against your negligent folds, your leaking walls trembling with anticipation. Longing for the stretch only he could offer you.

“Beg.”

Of course, nothing ever comes easily when it comes to him. Self-control honed by years of experience, all held by the iron grip of his analytical mind. A battle you’ll never win, so it’s best to sacrifice your self-respect in favor of your aching pussy. A fool for pleasure, gone far beyond the point of saving.

“Please… I want you to ruin me… please ruin me.” Sinful words rolling off your tongue.

Words that finally snapped the last thread of self-restraint Alhaitham had, instantaneously his hips met yours. Your gummy walls, long ingrained in his shape, welcomed the familiar stretch, clamping down as a wet slap resounded through the room. Alhaitham pushed his cock in further, pinning your body deeper into the mattress, hissing at the heat that engulfed his length.

Your mouth falls open, pleasure shooting through overstimulated nerves, the bed creaking underneath you as his hips pulled away just to snap back. Setting a more punishing pace than usual, the bed shook in protest as your pussy welcomed each thrust, slick walls wrapping around his girth.

Moans flowed out of your mouth like how water flows through rivers, any semblance of embarrassment drowned out by molten pleasure. Two bodies connecting and mingling together to create a private heaven.

Alhaitham’s hand abandons its grip on your wrist in favor of getting more leverage on your hips, purple marks promising to appear in the morning.

Before your muddled mind could process it, icy lips crashed into your plush ones, a tongue crossed the line. Sloppy and hungry was how his mouth devoured yours. Tongues clashing and dancing as he shallows each moan of yours.

He pulls away momentarily as you took the opportunity to steal a few breaths. Scarlet-hazed eyes observe the transgression just committed before his lips moved back to reconnect with yours.

It’s clear he doesn’t give a damn about that arbitrary rule anymore. Why must forbidden acts always feel so good?

Free hands now found purchase on his broad back, nails digging into the smooth skin trying to balance out the onslaught of pleasure invading every fiber of your being. Legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into the sheets with you never once interrupting his savage pace.

Your attempts at staving off your independent orgasm were futile, teary eyes rolling back as your walls clenched and your body shook.

Alhaitham released your lips in time to savor the broken symphony of a moan leaving your throat, the sheets underneath you a soaking mess, proof of your fall from cloud nine.

Despite this, your husband doesn’t slow down in the slightest. The sight in front of him only heightened the hunger in his eyes.

The solid oak bed frame swayed in time with the pistoning of his thrust, tight walls clamping down yet giving no resistance as his thick tip continued to bully that sweet spot. His chilly breath against your nape, tongue running a wet trail to prepare the area. Sensations your melted mind could barely register.

His fingers dig deeper into your hips as he pulls them flushed against his, thick cock pressing further into your wanton core.

A sharp prick shoots up your nape before the sensation of your walls being filled beyond capacity distracts from it. Your pussy pitifully attempts to suck in every last drop before succumbing, letting his essence join yours in making a mess of the sheets. Trembling hands run along his muscular back, pulling him closer to your heaving chest.

Your pants counted in time with the hands of a clock, shards of your sanity slowly returning to you as gulps moved down Alhaitham’s throat. With a satisfied sigh, his incisors released your neck, tongue lapping over the escaped drops of scarlet.

Slowly pulling away from your embrace, his untainted teal eyes scan over you. Hair fanned out behind you, chest still heaving, and cheeks still violently flushed. You must look absolutely ruined, just as you asked of him.

Carefully, he pulls out from your gummy walls, trembling walls allowed to gather their senses again. Detangling your legs from him with tender hands he repositions your droopy body comfortably along plush pillows.

Humming in gratitude as you rolled onto your stomach, face buried into the luxurious pillows which held his opulent scent. The aftermath of passion gradually faded away from recovering nerves. The space next to you dips down as his frame joins you, a cool hand resting along the curve of your back.

The soft sways of leaves in the night breeze, slowing pants, and the sweet lull of nothingness filled the air of this private haven. Two hearts, one mortal and one immortal, beating together.

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence.

A hushed invitation slipped to you behind the watchful eyes of the divine. A lure towards deep waters by his beckoning voice.

Perhaps your curiosity has influenced him as well. All your innocent inquiries must’ve muddled the line, question after question brushing away at the definition until misunderstanding took its place.

This won’t do. Your time is too short and his time too precious to be wasted on miscommunication.

Since it was you who muddled the line, it shall be you who reestablishes it.

“I was born a human,” you began.

Pausing to enjoy the feeling of his cool fingers drawing unknown shapes into your back and the gentle vibrations of his hum.

“I will die as one.”

With those simple words, the line was once again clearly drawn in the sand.

Separating you from him, and him from you. Just as the laws of morals, nature, and this world dictated.

After all, it was you who said: “For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine”. Not the other way around. The price he’d have to pay is far greater than anything you’re willing to sacrifice.

No, you’re too selfish for that.

Under a waning moon, the market was lively tonight. Bright lanterns and stringed lights challenged the radiance of the sky’s stars. The twinkling momentarily distracts your mind from the cries of your muscles and the aches of your bones.

What a simple thing you are, or perhaps you’re just a human in the purest sense. So entranced by the beauty of a rose, it distracts from the sting of thorns.

Such drab comparisons have no place in your thoughts tonight.

As if to run away from them, your legs moved with volition, weaving in and out of the surges of crowds with clumsy grace, some haggling, some laughing, some yelling.

Glazing up at the moon above, it was as if she was following your every step, watching, judging the performance of this daydream.

It wasn’t long before the volition faded away as you slowed to a halt, lung greedily trying to hog all the air they could. A herbal scent found its way to your senses, a quick glance to your left confirms your suspicions.

It looks like your legs couldn’t carry you far enough in the end. Stopping right in front of a display of dried Kalpalata Lotuses, the moon must be laughing right now.

You weren’t sure which one tasted more bitter, the herb or the irony.

Straightening your posture back up, ready to push through the burn of your muscles once more before a cold grasp grounded you back into reality.

Whipping your head around, bewildered eyes connected with placid teal. There was a furrow in the brows that framed the hypnotic azure.

“Don’t go where my hand can’t reach.” Alhaitham’s atonal voice carried over the chatter of the streets.

Bringing your husband out of the house, only to then leave him alone in a sea of people. What a capricious wife you are.

Perhaps Alhaitham foresaw this exact situation, that’d explain the recent spike in his reclusiveness. Seeing this, a giggle bubbled up in your throat.

“Oh?~ Someone’s been watching my dramas. Where’d you learn that line from?”

As he sighs your giggles only increased, cold fingers loosening around your wrist.

“It’s exceptionally crowded tonight, be mindful of your surroundings.”

You simply nodded along, a sign to him that you’re only absorbing half of his words, another sigh from him and another giggle from you.

“A bag of Kalpalata Lotuses for the two of you tonight as well?” The vendor, ready with a fresh paper bag, intrudes on this raillery.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, silencing your giggles as your eyes trailed over the dulled hues of the dried herb.

Four hours went to three went to two and now down to one. Each cup becoming more and more unpalatable. There comes a point when a bucket can longer keep a sinking ship afloat, perhaps it’s better to gaze upon the starry night as one disappears under the waves.

“Actually… Padisarah tea tastes better, I want a bag of that instead.” A honeyed smile dawned upon your lips as you glazed back up at him.

Alhaitham parts his lips, a response ready to fall off his tongue, but he closes them just as swiftly. Returning a hum of acknowledgment at your request, handing over the mora in exchange for the bag of dried Padisarah.

Your attention has already shifted away from this scene, eyes avoiding the dull hues, finally landing upon wood carved with much creative liberty. There’s enough space for another sculpture no? It’d be nice to add more company to the home.

Before the muscles in your legs could budge, a hand twitched, reminding you of the loose hold still around your wrist.

A good partner should respect the wishes of their spouse. Warm fingers slide into the space between cold ones, intertwining like the lights above with the sky.

All it took was a soft tug for a human to move a vampire through the bustling crowd.

A common phrase uttered to unwell patients is ‘mind over body’.

However, there’s only so much the body can take before it rebels against the mastermind.

Even your own body had enough of your selfishness.

Protest taking the form of wheezes, lethargy, and that piercing ache forever present deep within. You were always the one to toe the line, pushing your luck to the limits and beyond, only stopped by a towering wall.

It’s time to lay rest under silken sheets and plush pillows. Something you’ve been doing very often these days. Perhaps your body is just practicing for the ending.

The cumbersome duvet fails to capture the wisps of warmth only a Sumerian Summer can offer, it fails to prevent the chill from penetrating deep into your every bone.

Dull senses alert you to a shift in weight on the mattress. Fighting against the leaden weight of your lids, you opened your eyes to the sight of your husband.

Ashen hair slightly trussed and button down wrinkled as his frame lays next to yours. He must have come here straight from the door, a once-practiced tradition slowly faded away much like strength from your limbs.

The muscles on his face relaxed, neutral by default, yet his eyes were downturned much like the corners of his lips.

Your husband must be deep in thought. His thumb is digging into his palm again, it seems that Alhaitham has developed a new habit. Hazy eyes carefully focused on how the nail threatened to break the surface of his palm.

That’s no good.

Ignoring the exhaustion, you slipped your fingers in between his, shielding his palm from the assaults of his thumb, settling into a gentle embrace as two rings clinked together.

The weight of a teal gaze centers on you.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice barely a whisper.

Chest protesting against your action with wheezes, but you needed to finish this script, it's what a co-star should do.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” Exposing your neck to him as your lashes fluttered shut, it was time to pay your dues.

Much like the clauses written on parchment signed by two names, the ending of this script must be followed, your body already taking its cue.

At least the doctors were accurate this time, how punctual your body is.

A brisk breath brushed against your nape, skin reacting with a trail of goosebumps as you feel the presence of sharp incisors draws near before grazing against your delicate neck. Your mind counts back, ready for the final pierce of pain to come.

Three… Two… The pressure of his fangs disappears from your skin. Replaced by the touch of gentle lips.

Opening your eyes with confusion and lost anticipation, you were met with stoic eyes.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.”

“I’m not holding myself back,” Alhaitham answers without the slightest pause.

Your chest wheezes once more at your lung’s clumsy attempt at gathering a breath.

“What a silly vampire,” you giggled, the crimson hues were obvious even to your dimming vision.

After the numerous questions you asked and the innumerable answers he gave these past seven years, you still couldn’t fully comprehend him. Neither of you were the masterminds you thought you were, huh?

In the end, both of you were fools trying to perform a stage play.

Your mind ponders this revelation as Alhaitham tugs the covers up your body, gentle hand running along your body through the thick fabric barrier.

The faint ticks of a clock pull a buried secret from the guard sanctuary of your thoughts, dusting off the obscurity to reexamine the details in full clarity.

What was the end of the path like? Well, just like the scene blocked off by a garden wall under that moonless night, it’s all the same.

Maybe tonight you’ll tell him the truth.

What was over that wall? With its stones piled high and with moss creeping through its crevices, a wall that only creatures born within the grace of an undecided god could peer past. What did it conceal?

Nothing.

A nothingness so empty, ultimate peace could reside.

Seems like you’ve discovered something new in the end, you shameless fool. Death is nothingness in the end, a nothingness that fingers pass right through.

So instead of holding on to nothing, you’d rather grasp a cold hand as nothingness envelopes you. He didn’t seem to mind.

You wanted to tell this to the creature who humored your daydream for all these years. If he doesn’t want your blood then you could at least impart this priceless insight to him.

Oh, it’s such a shame that your tongue just won’t move anymore. Instead, you’ll offer him a smile. In hopes that Alhaitham could decrypt the curvature of your lips with his seven years of experience. To translate your silent message into a language known to man with his lifetimes of wisdom.

It’s all you could do to thank him for holding your hand as the dirge of Summer crickets fade out and the last first rays of a grieving sun kiss the horizon. The final wisp of warmth escaping down your cheek.

Fin~

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