#exo stories | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soobadnoonecanstopher · 2 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 21.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: smut. what if we made a drunk sex tape. The next chapter will be the end.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Masterlist The Letters (Bonus Chapter)

Tag: @his-mochi-cheeks

Your perspective on the other side of that patio door was a haze. You were drunker than you thought. Your quick stop at the empty bathroom just inside of that patio didn’t help sharpen your mind much.

The journey back to the grand ballroom, back to the party, had an odd buzz of excited whispering from groups of guests that you passed. Everywhere and all around you heads were leaned in close as they all giggled and whispered about some event that had transpired; some shocking party scandal. As you drew closer to your particular group of people you began to notice an occasional pair of eyes glance in your direction and just as quickly those eyes would look away.

The buzzing through your veins seemed once fully attributed to the alcohol suddenly felt just a little less warming and more chilling.

They were all very thrilled with whatever the news was. Highly amused in a sort of rubbernecker kind of way. Whatever had happened had no like effect on their lives. Whatever had happened would only ruin someone else’s life or worse, their career. You tried to make longer eye contact. You tried to gague what sort of a scandal it was this time. All the while wondering if you had done enough in your life to be on God’s good graces. If the $25 paycheck deduction for the local animal shelter had bought you enough good karma to save you this time.

With their whispered giggles and their snickering body shaking secrets group after group you passed seemed to be incredibly worked up as the gossip seemed to be spreading through the hotel like wildfire.

That chill in your veins had spread and brought a sinking feeling inside of your stomach. You felt made just a little queasy by it.

What if someone saw.

What if a right place right time eye witness saw you and Baekhyun out there on that patio just now.

What if a party guest out on a smoke break just happened to be walking back up the sidewalk at the exact right time and happened to look up at the exact right time and happened to recognize your super sparkly dress or his blue satin suit and what if, what if, what if someone in one of the apartment homes directly across from patio was putting their child to bed after a bedtime story and as they were drawing the curtains to shut out the nighttime lights they happened to catch the both of you in full on, middle school textbook visual description of heavy petting, just so happened to know a guest at this very party who just so happened to have seen you both walk out there toward that patio and what if, what if, what if a phone call was made or a picture was sent and they put it together that you and Baekhyun had been sleeping together all this time; even and especially when you were his direct supervisor and in charge of things like his schedule and his bonuses and his promotions and his performance review oh my god his performance review the one you got fucked on top of and ruined and then directed him, as his supervisor to forge just as you had directed him as his supervisor to engage in sexual intercourse on company property on company time you were at least guilty of time theft and extortion and sexual harassment and fraud. Charges like that, even with the best lawyers, even if you beat the charges, your reputation would be ruined and you could face thousands upon thousands of fines and lawsuits and maybe even go to jail. Could you survive prison?

You weren’t the type to brag. This was a reality of your situation. But fucking hell, you were too pretty for prison.

Phones were buzzing on tables; lighting up around the darkened space like twinkling Christmas lights and you suddenly remembered you had one of those too and you pulled it out of the clutch bag you miraculously still had with you.

Your screen was lit up with notifications. Several of your work group chats had several unread messages and the messages were still coming in.

Your eyes scanned the incoming words desperate to find the subject of all of this mess.

‘No way!’

‘Omg I can’t believe it.’

‘That’s fucking crazy!’

You’d come into this too late. You quickly unlocked your phone and began scrolling up through the apparently bombshell that began all of this commotion and after several seconds of scrolling you came across the beginning.

‘!!!!!’

It started with an appropriate commotion and the next message instantly had you exhale a long sigh from deep within your lungs that seemed to take ages for all off the air to fully exit your body.

‘Chet just got dragged out by security and he’s being arrested for peeping in the ladies bathroom. Someone said he was laying on the floor taking pictures up skirts! What a fucking creep!!’

The relief felt like a light switch was flipped; with the instantaneous flood through your chest.

As quickly as the relief came a different worry. Despite the answer to your question being answered you still scrolled line by line through the flood of messages as your team members and other people in the agency discussed the news with ravenous delight. Word after word your eyes searched for his name. You searched for any possible connected to your name even if you had your doubts that these people would suddenly forget that you were also in this group chat if they wanted it start badmouthing you and spreading rumors about the incidentals behind why Chet happened to be in that hallway outside of the ladies room in the first place and who it was that might have been spotted having that big drunken loser onto the floor of that ladies room; surely they wouldn’t be doing that sort of gossiping in this group chat.

You were a manager but you hadn’t always been one. You knew for a fact that the lower tier employees had their own group chats and even amongst themselves they most certainly had broken off into even smaller chats where all of the juiciest bits of gossip were spread around.

You’d reached the end of the messages and the occasional buzz of your phone and signaled the arrival of something else was just a mirror of the same sort of sentiment.

‘He always gave me a bad feeling.’

‘Glad I never went on that date with him.’

‘I can’t believe this.’

‘He should be fired. Those woman would have to work with him again.’

This wouldn’t work. There was one person who you would ask to make sure your name and Baekhyun’s name hadn’t been connected to this in any way.

You found Sandi laughing and chatting near the appetizers and small bites tables.

Oh …food. You’d forgotten about food. Your drunken head swam and your stomach growled the moment you saw it and you slinked up silently right beside Sandi with your own little plate ready to grab something to eat.

“Sandi,” you whispered harshly beside her and she jumped and placed a palm over her chest, “I need to talk to you.”

“Jesus—” She groaned with her eyes closed, “someone should put a bell on you.” She mumbled under her breath.

You popped something that looked to be potato based into your mouth and chewed, swallowing quickly so you could drill her for what she might know.

You’d filled up your little plate and grabbed her by the elbow, ignoring the weird yelp she made when you pulled her behind you to some quiet corner where you could hear everything she said while also looking deep into her eyes for signs that she was leaving anything out.

“What happened with Chet?” You looked into her face as you said it and she looked back at you with the slightest pause in her words and mannerism before she actually started talking. When she did move it was to narrow her eyes and she looked over your face and then down over the length of you once before her eyes were back looking in yours.

“Maybe I need to ask you what happened with Chet.”

You looked down at your plate and popped another potato thing into your mouth, quickly grabbing another one because goddamn these were delicious, and you shrugged your face every so slightly as you chewed. You let your eyes land inside hers for a few seconds but then looked away again. You weren’t sure exactly why this woman was able to read you so well but you were quickly melting before her weirdly knowing gaze.

”What happened with Chet?” She said again in a quieter whisper and you sighed in genuine defeat knowing that this was going to take some explaining. She was going to need the whole story from the over the top flirtatious hugs as a greeting that he always insisted on, to the overheard conversation of Chet’s plans to basically conquer you for the sake of his ego and nothing else, as well as the way he seemed to feel that he was somehow owed something from you when you’d promised nothing and never had even given him anything more than professional politeness.

You had found a quiet place for this and had each grabbed fresh drinks and once you got talking you could feel her growing more and more irritated by that man’s terrible behavior. You heard the quiet gasps of surprise and her genuine laughter when you recounted the mop-water incident. You did your best to gloss over the entangled involvement of your boyfriend in this situation; but there was honestly no way around it when you got to the events of this evening that led up to Chet being outright arrested for sexually deviant behavior and the weird guilty feeling that bubbled up inside of your stomach when you thought that maybe he might be punished for something he didn’t even really do; not really.

Yes he’d grabbed you by the wrist and your wrist was still sore right now from it. You didn't know what his plans were with you. You didn't know if the man was just stupid or if he was actually dangerous but you definitely didn’t feel good about him being blamed for something he hadn’t actually done.

Sandi was giggling. You were feeling conflicted and she was too overcome with laughter to be of any actual help. Drunk Sandi was fun for scheming and gossiping, but you were looking for actual help here. When she finally got her giggles under control enough to talk, she did and with her words came the familiar relief you often felt when you shared any sorts of your worries with this woman.

“He wasn’t arrested. He was escorted out by hotel security, yeah, but I never saw any police. I think they just all got excited, you know how rumors are.”

“And you didn’t hear my name or,” you lowered your voice significantly and leaned in closer to her, “Baekhyun’s name connected in any way?”

She was giggling again, leaning closer as she whispered just as you had, “No, I didn’t hear his name, or your name, but Ma’am,” she emphasized the title with an over the top seriousness in her voice, “the way he looks at you…when he’s dancing with you…”

Her eyes had gone wide as her words trailed off and her mouth hung open briefly before she lifted a hand to fan her face dramatically. You had to cover your own face as the snort of giggles broke free from your chest.

“I don't know how anyone would survive that. You are strong. And I’ve never felt more single and more alone than I did watching you two dance — ohhh I’m getting mad just thinking about it.” She stood up with her empty glass and reached out her other hand for you to grab so you could come with her, “Come on, we need another drink.”

You grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her close to you so you could walk arm in arm with all of your silly drunken secrets and shared giggles. Both of your steps were a bit unsteady but together you at least had someone to lean on.

“You know you really are the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you whispered into her ear and she snorted out loud.

“Shut up. I look like a potato. Did you really have to go all out like this? Can’t you consider the rest of us?”

“If you are a potato then you are my loveliest sweet potato,” you leaned a head on her shoulder and she snorted and playfully pushed your head off. The rejection, even if playful, it only made you grip her arm tighter and lay your head on her shoulder more forcefully.

“No, my sweet potato!”

“He better appreciate how lucky he is.” She remarked seriously with a severe look down in your direction and you looked up at her curiously and her serious expression softened and grew into a reticent grin. “I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”

Again and again, Sandi was on your side. Again and again she was such a good friend you even played with the idea that maybe this wonderful woman who you always thought of so fondly might very well be your best friend.

“Sweet Potato,” you called up to her loud enough so that you were sure she heard you call her. She didn’t really respond other than a Quick Look. You gave her a little shake, “Sweet Potato Sandi,” you called again and she laughed and said a very drawn out and extremely informal, “whaaaat?”

“Will you be my Maid of Honor?”

Your question stopped her forward steps and she turned with surprised eyes to look at you. You straightened your spine and looked her right in the face with confidence and sincerity and after a few moments her shoulders sagged and she lifted her eyebrows with a tiny shrug on her face.

“Me?”

You nodded in earnest.

“Okay,” she said quietly with the slightest pink growing across her cheeks and the tiniest smile that fought to break free on her lips.

Eventually though, the smile grew wider and she giggled out an excited squeal that you quickly mirrored with a quick little jump up and down while holding hands in delight.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married!” She whispered through the excitement.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married!” You said just a little too loudly. She quickly shushed you and laughed noisily to hide what you had just said.

“Who’s getting married?” A familiar voice called out over the loud music from the dance floor. Marci had overheard and she was smiling wide with glassy eyes and a curious yet very drunk slur deep within her voice.”

“My sister—”

“My sister,” both you and Sandi said at the exact same time and Marci’s eyes bounced from your eyes to Sandi’s eyes and back to your eyes before her smile sagged and she looked up into the space above her head as she tried to make sense of what she was being told.

“Her sister,” she said and “Her sister,” you said in unison and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from spitting out in laughter. Marci just blinked at you both with a sort of far away and very, very deep look of genuine and hopeless confusion.

“Whose sister?” She finally said and you leaned forward shouting over the music with a wide smile and you nodded your head excitedly, “yes!” You declared, purposefully deceitful and confusing.

You would be sure to add it to your list of many sins.

“Let’s dance!” You shouted and you and Sandi grabbed her hand and pulled the poor girl deep within the chaos of the heat and bodies of people dancing to the thumping beat of the dance song.

Time was a blur of songs and laughter. Occasionally, someone’s hands and someone else’s body bumped up against you.

You had somewhere deep inside of you, a quietly nagging voice that did its absolute best to remind you of things. Proper things. Managerial things like respect and your position as a person to admire and trust amongst these people. Sandi aside, most if these people had to take your instructions at face value and answer your questions, and at times respond to your professional demands. You knew deep down that you could not sever that image of yourself.

And you thought you did pretty well. You laughed with them and danced with them and shared in the joy of the evening while still keeping whatever parts of your mind you needed to keep intact for the sake of the dynamics of the team.

You experienced a few moments of control. You had a handle on it for a couple of songs worth of time; you began to trick yourself into thinking you could handle anything, even while drunk.

But when you saw Baekhyun, a switch was flipped.

He was with some friends; the same ones as before. A group of rowdy young men you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet but he seemed quite close with them.

You saw them laughing together, exchanging in some sort of noisy banter; it felt quite different from the playful way he acted with you; this behavior seemed much more daring, much more primal. If you had to compare it with something you’d aliken it to a group of almost feral, unsupervised boys left to their own devices on a playground together. Had they been younger, you would not have been surprised at all to see blood drawn.

One such ‘game,’ (and you hesitated to use such a word as there were discernible no rules) involved messing with some party favor on the table in a way that was never intended to be used. The result was one unsuspecting member of the group, who hadn’t been paying enough attention to his friends given the amount of danger he should have felt by sitting beside them, this one poor man was smacked right in the back of the head. At least it didn’t seem too painful of a prop to turn into a weapon. He wasn’t the original target but had been smacked quite dramatically nonetheless for the crime of sitting too close to your sweet boyfriend who had actually been aiming for another person.

The result was the same. Someone was hit. Everyone erupted in raucous laughter and a swift punishment was enacted on the offender.

You watched as they all grabbed your boyfriend by the collar, bent him over at the waist and unleashed a folly of smacks upon his back.

The entire thing was loud and violent. Baekhyun’s yells could be heard over the music and he came back up pink in the face and laughing noisily ready for whatever revenge the rules of this game allowed.

There was alcohol involved too. Apparently there was some step in the game that involved shots of alcohol. You couldn’t make sense of any of it.

You knew you were staring but you felt enraptured by his behavior.

Who was this man?

Where did your boyfriend go?

Was this really the same tender man who held you in his arms and night and declared his never ending love and adoration for you?

He was noisy and crass and annoying and he delighted in the ridiculousness and stupidity of this whole thing.

You weren’t sure which one of them noticed you first. But there was a sudden and dramatic shift in the atmosphere that came over the entire group and it manifested as a literal wave of change that surged from person to person starting from someone in the far right edge.

There was straightening of suit jackets and smoothing of hairstyles that had been messed by the ruckus. There was frantic tapping and wide eyes that motioned in your direction followed immediately by whichever onlooker quickly looking toward Baekhyun. Hands were on him, someone was motioning in your direction and their faces had a look of urgency.

They were calling his attention to you because you were looking at him and this in itself was significant to this group of men.

You wondered what they knew about you and about Baekhyun. What all he had told them and was any of it was enough to be used against you in a court of law.

Baekhyun’s eyes found yours and you had already begun to make your way off the dance floor to the table where you’d kept your drink and your bag along with the other girls’ things and you watched the atmosphere of Baekhyun’s group take on a much more secretive vibe.

They were, every single one of them, absolutely terrible spies.

There was an intense whispering happening. It all felt very dramatic. There was someone slapping Baekhyun quite hard on the arm and laughing as if whatever situation he had been placed in was too funny for non-violent enjoyment and Baekhyun turned to the slapping man, quietly bickered back and forth in an annoyed and scolding manner.

Your table was very close to them all and you’d reached for your drink to take a sip when out of the corner of your eye you saw a genuine stumble as a human man surged in your direction.

Someone had pushed him.

They all turned to look away from you the moment you curiously looked at them and Baekhyun completed the two final steps that it took for him to be standing right beside you.

“So…” he said under his breath. He was whispering to you and his cheeks were as pink as his eyes were glassy. Baekhyun cleared his throat and inhaled again, keeping his voice very low so you were the only one who could hear him. “My friends are pressuring me to ask you to dance and it would make their fucking nights if you said yes.”

You were sipping on a beer and you peered your head around his shoulder, catching at least four faces seconds before they abruptly turned away.

You looked back into his face with genuine amusement and you quickly licked your lips and swallowed away how obviously entertained you were by this.

Baekhyun watched your face and a single eyebrow lifted over his eye before he inhaled to whisper again. “You see, they all think I have a crush on you,” he added.

You recognized the upper hand you had in this situation. Should you give them all what they wanted? A bunch of silly men who wanted nothing more than to encourage and possibly humiliate their friend with his little crush.

“Do you not have a crush on me?”

Baekhyun leaned then, allowing his whispered answer to heat the skin of your cheeks with every word that puffed from of his lips.

“Baby, I do not have a crush.” He said the word with a deep and significant drawn oh emphasis on the last word. Then, from parted lips came the air from deep within his lungs that fanned over your face and smelled like the usual sweet scent of him paired with an obvious scent of all of that alcohol that surfed through his bloodstream.

“I am in love with you,” he urged with his focus locked tightly with yours.

His eyes held onto yours until he leaned in close enough for the darkness in his whisper to coat the back of your neck with goosebumps.

“Dangerously,” he growled and when he pulled his face back and his eyelids sank down hard on the after effects of that one word that sounded more like a warning than a term of endearment.

You set the beer back down on the table and reached a hand out to lightly touch his forearm; letting your hand trail slowly down the length of his sleeve until you reached his fingers. From the table of men you heard light gasps

“Let’s make your friends happy then.”

The moment your hand made contact with his and you took that first step toward the dance floor you heard a sound like a commotion coming from the group of men. It was half a cheer and half a groan and you turned back to see several of them taking shots of alcohol and wincing as it went down.

You looked back at Baekhyun in surprise but your boyfriend's face was the absolute picture of innocence.

“Even this is part of the drinking game?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled sweetly but his bottom lip twitched like it does when he’s being just a little less than honest.

The smallest laugh broke free from your chest. You didn’t want to encourage this, but dammit he was cute when he was acting up.

If either of you had been less intoxicated you might have worked out the timing of this better.

You hadn’t even noticed that the upbeat pop song was about to end until you’d pulled him well onto the dance floor and turned around to face him ready for some manager/ex-secretary appropriate moderately close enough to touch maybe hands and forearms and the occasional only when absolutely necessary waist or chaste hand on a shoulder dancing, when the final happy and peppy beats of the song ended and the lights in the room went surprisingly dim as the notes of a new song began.

If you’d been in your right mind you’d have waited before agreeing to dance with him until you’d cleared the song.

If you’d been in your right mind you might not have gotten genuinely excited once you realized that this particular song; this sexy sultry deep r&b beat and with sexier lyrics; this was a song that you, in fact, had danced to before.

You had, in fact, learned a set of moves to this song, a set of rather risqué and rather provocative moves that you’d learned as part of a group dance fitness class at your local gym, appropriately titled Bad Bitches Dance Fitness.

You had your doubts back when you clicked to sign up for the class. But the instructor had a way of bringing the bad bitch out of you. When the first notes of this song started and you set your face for this, you made sure you looked right into his eyes as you struck the first sexy pose that opened the dance, you learned that not only was the bad bitch still inside of you; but apparently all she needed was some alcohol to come out.

Baekhyun was surprised.

You could see it in his face. His eyes widened and his lips parted as his eyes followed your sexy little prance in a full circle around him and when you reached a fingertip to touch his lips, dragging it down slowly down his chin over his chest, opening your hand to scrape your fingernails straight down the length of him it took him an honest to god moment to recover and react.

You stopped at his belt, thank God — not through any good sense on your own part, but the next move of the dance required you to bend at the hips, slip a bare thigh out with a pointed toe and when you flipped your hair up and let your body roll all the way back up, it was against his warmth as you did it. It was punctuated by the sharp exhale you heard come out from his lungs and the desperate darkness you saw deep in his eyes. The dance went on. It was risky as all hell with plenty of touching and even more flaunting certain parts of your body for the man.

It was dark enough now that not every single bit of this could be seen from all parts of this grand ballroom. The dark lighting and occasional strobing lights gave the illusion of some privacy. His table of friends was close enough though. From somewhere in the direction of their table, you could make out the hoots and hollers from the group of young men who seemed to be very excited to have been the catalyst for this kind of situation.

Baekhyun kept up with you. Despite the fact that he did not know the dance; he was enough of a musician with an obvious background in dance as well to know what might come next. He knew how to anticipate your next move and he moved his body with yours, despite the occasional hard clench you saw in his jaw and sharp gasp for air he took when you did something particularly bad.

You lived for those moments. The bits where he was overcome and so close losing his control.

You didn't have to let your hands travel so slowly over him. You didn't have to grab ahold of your own breasts the way you had done and make an expression that very likely reminded him of fucking you. These bits were never covered in the class; but you had very much lost control over yourself to the alcohol.

Every one of his reactions made you smile. It was a satisfied, truly naughty smile and you looked into his eyes, laying another hand just over his chest as you leaned in close to his face. Your eyes slid from his eyes down to his lips and you leaned in so close. It was dangerous. You swore you could feel the breaths from his mouth against your own. You felt the body heat coming from his smooth skin. You could taste the sweetness of the alcohol on his labored breaths.

You turned your head at the last moment. It was all part of the dance. This was just part of the tease. If you had a chair to sit him down in, you might even sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, letting him feel the way your hips would roll into him to the beat of the music.

But Baekhyun didn’t know the dance. You gasped when your backward step was interrupted by his strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He pulled you back into him roughly and your legs parted enough for his firm thigh to slip fully in between your thighs. You felt the dress resist on one side but on the other, that damn slit gave you permission; encouraged you even, practically begged you to straddle his thigh and grind your hips against him. You rubbed against the heat between his legs and you felt him there. Hot and hard and so very teased by you — all night long — nearly at a limit. The temptation was stronger than anything you’d felt before. You wanted to feel that friction pressing into your skin. You wanted his stuttered moans pushed deep inside your ears when you ran the palm of your hand over the rigid shaft you felt below the suit fabric.

A pair of eyes to your left caught your attention. Someone had genuine curiosity written all over their face and someone else’s own dance was interrupted as their eyes wandered over to this strange pair of dancers who really ought not be so close to each other right now, not like this, not in public, not when they shared a strictly professional relationship that never ever crossed any lines. Sure it was quite dark and alcohol was likely the culprit but still…

You needed some distance. He was so warm and he felt so good and his hand around your waist had traveled, slipping his hot hand down your ass and over to grip roughly into the flesh of your bare thigh. You’d had enough sex with this man to know what sorts of touches were a prelude to something more. A touch like this, with as hard as he felt between his legs, this was him drunk and him much too affected by your teasing. This was him having had enough of this. This was him wanting to fuck you.

You felt his hot breath exhale slowly over your ear. There was a throaty moan at the end of it, “f-fuck, baby,” he whined.

This had to stop. You needed to get out of his arms. You took a step back, placing a firm hand against his abdomen, you pushed yourself back hard and you stepped out from between his legs; disguising the movement with another body roll thanks to the perfectly timed out-tro it fit perfectly with your exit.

You had to bite down on your lip and control your breaths. It felt like they were pushing and pulling at your lungs with too much force and Baekhyun’s eyes snapped quickly into yours with that same darkness deep within his blown out pupils.

Your focus was wandering. It had been too much. It had been too obvious. Anyone who had even half paid attention would be able to tell that not only were the two of you already quite deeply in love with each other but the chemistry you felt between him and yourself on this dancefloor alone surely would have told them all that the sex had to be mind blowing.

Your eyes caught movement at your table; of course you’d had plenty of witnesses there. Beside your table stood a group of silently staring men with mouths gaping too surprised to give any sort of reaction and back at your table, you watched sweet Sandi lift a hand to her mouth for a noisy wolf whistle and she started cheering and clapping. The girls beside her cautiously lifted their hands to clap and laugh and the encouragement had a sheepish smile pulling up to your lips and you gave the group the smallest little drunken courtesy. Leaning into their compliments as if you had intended to put on such a show with that dance all along.

Beside you, Baekhyun had a hand on his hip and had just ran a palm over the length of his face, no doubt doing his best job of fixing whatever expression he might have; whatever secrets he might accidentally be showing that should not be shown.

His lips pulled into a smile when you smiled at him and without any other moves to make that could signify to all of your onlookers that the make believe, pretend, it was all for show, movie scene was over now, you lifted a hand in his direction and held it up for a high five. A high five was just the move to get that point across. People that slept together regularly didn’t give each other high fives. This was as platonic a move as you could think of. You were sure he would tease you about this for weeks.

“Great dance!” You said through false brightness loud enough for all of the people waiting for you at your table to hear.

He looked at your hand and then back down at your face and back up at your hand again before he lifted his own hand to give you the weakest, most pathetic excuse for a high five that you've ever received from anyone. His face had the uncomfortable kind of wince that a teenager might sport after being embarrassed in front of their friends by a supremely uncool parent.

Back at the tables you both parted ways and in between Marci’s questions, drilling you about where you learned to dance like that, your ears caught the occasional low guffaws, snickers of laughter and teasing quips bellowing out from the group of men that accosted your boyfriend.

“Man…a high five.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

There were side conversations and occasional condolences. Some of the men had more hope that others and you were pretty sure they didn’t realize just how loud they were all talking.

“Don’t give up hope, dude.”

“You see the way she dances tho?”

“She a baddie.”

“Way outta his league.”

“If a girl like that gave me a high five I’d just go home and never come out again.”

“Shhh — he’ll hear you.”

You reached for your clutch and pulled out your cell phone; keyed out a short text message and hit send as you pushed yourself up from your seat at your table and let the girls you were going to take a quick bathroom break.

Your message sat unread for long enough for you to make it clear across the dance floor toward the hallway with the bathrooms. You may have imagined it but you could practically feel the change the moment he had read it. You could feel the heat of his eyes watching as you walked away from him. When you rounded a corner you turned back and found his eyes easily as if you’d always known his focus would be only on you.

‘Bathroom by our patio has a lock’

You were walking through the lounge areas past the smaller groups of party goers who congregated there; seeking a little more peace and quiet for some whispered and intimate late night conversations.

Your feet carried you easily through the spaces and with each step as your heels hit the tile floor and echoed all around you it felt like the bang bang bang of a hammer as your hips swayed and you walked with the confidence of the kind of baddie who might propose a forbidden rendezvous such as this.

It was the alcohol. It was the dance. It was the way he smelled and the warmth of his breath as he moaned into your ear. It was the taste of the alcohol on his sweet breath as you inhaled against his face. It felt forbidden, doing something like that with the eyes of so many people on you both. It was the grip of his fingertips as he held onto your thigh and pulled you hard against his dick.

There was no one around. You’d journeyed through several spaces that were completely empty by the time you reached this bathroom door. You pushed the door open and stepped inside rewarded with the silence you knew you’d find in here.

This was a big party but this hotel was so massive the odds of any lost guests finding their way to this end of the building were astronomically small.

The inside of this bathroom had a cozy yet still tasteful feeling. You could tell it was a luxury hotel by the heated hand towels neatly rolled on the surface of the immaculately clean countertop and the floor to ceiling wooden doors that closed off the bathroom stalls. You walked by the cushioned bench and full length mirrors to stand in front of the sinks.

Your reflection looked back at you and you scrutinized the expression you saw in your own eyes. You hardly recognized yourself. Your skin was just a little bit damp looking from the dancing and you were flushed all over. The flush seemed to be more than just from the alcohol, more than just from the dancing and the exertion. It took a couple of deep breaths through your parted lips and a couple of blinks and only then did your mind clear enough for you to actually see yourself clearly. So this is what you looked like to him. So this was the look in your eyes when you wanted him badly enough to seek out a place of privacy even if that place was a bathroom of all places.

You had to inhale a deep breath and look away from the mirror. You felt too crazed for this level of self discovery. You could feel the desperation bubbling up to your surface, your own once carefully curated resolve made so flimsy and weak by a little alcohol … and by him. The light was bright but not harsh and you leaned a hip against the marble countertop as you watched the door for signs of movement.

Baekhyun’s arrival at that bathroom door came with a sound first. Two soft knocks against the wood made with a single knuckle.

You leaned forward and pulled the door handle open and he stumbled a bit until he was leaning against the open doorway with his eyes cast downward, not yet looking at you and definitely not coming inside with nearly the urgency that you would have expected of him right now.

You reached a hand out and grabbed ahold of his. He gave you his hand without protest and when you pulled you had his eyes looking up into yours as he took two steps inside where you urged until he was standing fully inside this silent space in front of you. The door closed behind him.

His brown eyes were on you and his lips were parted as he breathed through those parted lips and after a few moments of watching your face in silence he closed up his mouth and his head sagged back just a little bit.

Having him here in front of you did something to the anxious energy you’d been feeling before he came in. He wasn’t touching you at all except with his eyes but just looking at his beautiful face pulled a smile to your lips and you backed against that countertop again and leaned against it as you simply let the warm feeling take over your chest as the smile grew.

His expression was changing. His face had looked quite collected and controlled when he came in here but the longer he looked at you the more you saw. His focus refused to stay up in your eyes as his had dropped slowly over the length of your body.

“You —” he breathed out with his eyes down on your bare thighs, “you might actually kill me tonight.” He pulled his eyelids up and narrowed his focus on your face as he spoke.

“You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me. Looking like this — in this fucking dress. Dancing like that. Teasing me and then leaving me. Making me — making me desperate.” His hands flew around with every other sentence, pointing and gesturing all over as he ranted.

You felt an unparalleled satisfaction from hearing his many complaints about you from tonight. You knew you were acting up. You knew you had been teasing him and then leaving him wrecked and part of you had been so very weak to him that you simply could not keep yourself under control around him, not when you had been drinking so much. Your only link to reality had been those moments when faced with the very real possibility of exposing your entire relationship to everyone in here that you retreated from him. Running away, giggling the entire time for just how very naughty you were being.

You couldn't stop.

It was wrong of you.

But it was fun. He was fun to tease and the long list of grievances he was airing right now only pulled your lips into a wider smile that you tried your absolute best to bite down on to blank away. It didn’t work, of course. He saw.

“And you’re smiling,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows and his lips pulling into a smile that didn’t have any humor behind it. He closed his eyes as he lifted a hand to rub over the length of his face.

The same naughtiness that you felt pulling at your strings and making you do these terrible, awful, inappropriately teasing things to him all night long pushed you to take a step forward, into his space.

You reached a hand out and dragged your fingers down the front of his shirt. You could feel the warmth of his chest below the fabric. You moved your hand lightly down the length of him dragging fingers along the edge of his necktie, reaching the very end of it you felt the folded edge of the fabric; that strip of unassuming fabric that moved with his breathing. With your fingers at the bottom you only lightly touched the very tip of his tie, the arrow that pointed downward, that part that laid just above his belt. You touched this spot again and again, letting your aim grow sloppy; letting your wandering hand graze lightly below the metal buckle of his belt and all of the warmth and heat you felt there.

“I’m going to get my hands on you,” his lips pursed and he blew out a stuttered breath that shook his bottom lip on the exit and he bit down on his lip briefly as his eyes followed your moving finger. His lips flew open and his tongue darted out to dampen the dryness on his bottom lip before he inhaled a sharp breath to continue his threat, “and there won’t be any stopping me. There will be no party we have to get back to. No songs that just ended.”

“No… fucking … high fives.” He exhaled through the curse word and you took a step into him.

You hooked his belt buckle with your index finger and gave the smallest tug, pulling your bottom lip into the smallest little pout you could manage as you looked down. You should probably pretend to be at least a little bit sorry. It took you a few moments to really sink that pout in deep and it managed to stay put when you looked back up into his face.

Baekhyun scoffed and he shook his head in disbelief. He lifted a hand up your face, bouncing the tip of his index finger lightly twice over the softness of your bottom lip.

“What are you doing? What is that?” His brows were furrowed and his teeth bared, “are you — are you pouting right now? Do you have something to pout about? Something like, oh, I don’t know, a three hour boner, perhaps?”

Your silly attempt at repentance vanished and you pulled your chin inward with the smallest itty bitty eye roll escaping against your will and through the doubts you clearly displayed on your face you mumbled under your breath, “I don't think — it was that long—”

Baekhyun's face flattened. His eyelids and his eyebrows settled into a completely serious expression and you could still feel the doubts and disbelief bouncing around inside of your head, “I mean…three hours—”

Baekhyun’s sudden movement cut off whatever nonsense you were speaking and he grabbed ahold of your right hand, pulled it forward palm open and he planted your hand squarely on top of his, very obviously, fully erect dick. The interruption and presentation of evidence pulled your jaw open as you held him in the palm of your hand and slowly moved upward along the shape of him.

“Did anyone see you come in here after me?” Your whispered question had pulled his eyes open. They had drifted closed with you touching him like this. As it was now, you hadn’t located his tip as he seems to have tucked himself somewhere behind his belt in attempt to just live with his new reality and what you had done to him.

“No idea,” he breathed through short gasps.

Your hand had reached as high as you could move without removing his belt and slowly, with firmer pressure, you moved your hand back down. You felt the push he gave with his hips into your touch.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked it with much of that same teasing smile on your voice and he shook his head quickly back and forth as his left hand flew up to lean against the bathroom door. After a few seconds you heard an audible click when he locked it.

You gasped in surprise when he moved and reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and easily lifting you up to sit on the marble countertop. The stone was freezing beneath your bare thighs and your skirt moved up high enough for a peek of your panties to show. It didn’t matter, he pushed his hips between your parted legs with the same roughness as he handled you. He pulled you into him with strong arms and fingertips that dug into your ass and every push, every bit of friction had your legs parting more; had you needing more than what was possible through the layers of clothing that separated your bodies.

“No,” he leaned in close to your face and spoke in a dark whisper, “but I might want to disrespect you a little while I fuck you.”

You didn’t have any time to form a response because his open mouth covered your own. He kissed you roughly and deeply. His mouth devoured yours hungrily and all you could do was gasp for air when he pulled back, sucking your bottom lip deep inside with the pull of his mouth until he let up enough only for his teeth to bite down. You tasted alcohol on his tongue and on his breath and you imagined you tasted the same.

You felt the culmination of tonight’s frustrations in his kiss. You felt consumed and had by him and when the hollow of his mouth released its hold on, you gasped out loud to feel his lips at your neck seconds before those same parted lips hovered just over the skin right above your jugular. He seemed to play with you there, his lips popping light kisses; his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of your skin and only when you’d let yourself drift into this tenderness, only when you’d relaxed your shoulders and leaned into him as he kissed and tasted your skin, only then did he do it. Without warning; with the next soft and contented moan that left your lips his muscles tensed around you and his fingertips dug in hard again. At the same time, he pushed his face into your neck, right on the same spot he had been tasting, he suddenly bit down. His hard wet teeth were sinking in deep and he was biting down very hard. He made your breath catch in your throat. Your gasp was a half whine, half whimper interrupted by the shock of the pain you felt when he did it. He made your brain feel fuzzy and dizzy. Maybe it was the surprise, or the alcohol or maybe you hadn’t had enough of a chance to catch your breath.

You would have a mark — red or even the blue color of blood vessels burst just below the surface of your skin. You would touch lightly at this spot and feel a slight tinge from this.

Oh, he was everywhere.

You were quickly overwhelmed.

You could feel your heart racing inside of your chest and that overwhelming feeling felt like it might just burst through your skin. Every touch felt like more than the previous. He was constricting and tightening and he was lifting and pulling and pushing and the room spun; it spun in the confines of this tiny bathroom it spun and it seemed to come to some sort of a comeuppance. He was standing and lifting, his arms clung so tightly around your waist you lost the air inside of your lungs and when you opened your eyes he had found the padded bench and perched you right on top of his lap. You had somehow lost the panties.

“I want to fuck you so badly,” his breathing was rapid and heavy and his face was buried somewhere in your chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You have to take your pants off first.” Your breath caught when you felt his mouth open up over your nipple; right on top of the sticker that covered it and he pulled it into his mouth, sucking, soaking it with his spit and biting with his teeth.

“You’ve got me so fucked. I’m going to cum the second I get inside of you.”

He won. His efforts won over the stupid sticker and you felt the sting of the sticky glue pull hard against your skin; against the most sensitive spots. “I don’t want that. I’m not ready for this to be over.”

You cried out from the pain as he ripped it off with his teeth in a single motion. “You feel so good. You taste so good. You’re so fucking hot.”

As quickly as the sticker was gone and the sting radiated through your nerve endings his mouth was there, pulling your breast into his hot mouth, sucking and biting. Pulling away and leaving you soaked.

You moved your hips over his lap. The firmness lined up perfectly with you; everything about Baekhyun always fit you perfectly. You could feel that desperate friction bumping against your clit with each pass. You chased that feeling, grinding your hips over him again and again, pressing your center atop his stiffness and delighting in the wild grunts that escaped the back of his throat as you did it.

”Don’t,” he breathed out, “don’t you dare,” he was whining with his arms wound around you tight, holding you down, making you stop the movements. You knew what he was saying. You could feel the change in him.

“So take them off, Baek.”

You pushed off of him first. With the way this was going he would cum in his pants before you got to feel him inside of you. His arms relaxed enough to let you go and you stood in front of him, the dress somehow still on, although pushed up very high on your thighs, but both shoulder straps pulled down and your bare breasts exposed, every single mark from his mouth and fingertips flashed flush and hot on your skin. You still had on the stilettos and he stared at you blinking and breathing and begging himself for just a few more minutes of control.

With each of his breaths came small facial twitches. His eyelids pulled down on the exhale and his eyebrows pulsed on his forehead. His eyes closed and opened again and his lips twitched, “You are unfair,” he whispered.

At last, you heard his movement. His hands were at his belt and the quick sounds of that metal buckle and the slide of his zipper resisted against the pressure behind it. He lifted himself into an unsteady standing position and pushed the pants off completely, leaving them crumbled on the floor beside the suit jacket, and the tie, and the shoes.

You lifted a hand behind the dress to find the zipper.

“Leave it on,” he said, reaching for you with both hands; you were spun in place and the heat and warmth of the length of his body warmed your back as his hands wrapped around your waist, one gripping your breast roughly and the other he slipped down between your legs. He coated your back. Behind you, behind your ass you felt him slipping easily between your legs. You were too wet for any resistance at all.

You were moving. He was walking and pushing you forward back toward that padded bench he had been sitting on but his fingers slipped within your wetness as he did it, bumping against your already too wet; too worked up center made it so hard to focus on much.

He moved you; pushing your shoulders down and holding your waist up tight, making you bend down in front of him and your hands hit the bench in front of you, your knees resting on the edge of it and your ass in the air. There wasn’t any dinigity in this. This was fucking. It was desperate and animalistic. His palms ran over the curve of your ass, pushing the fabric of your dress out of the way, slipping fingers in between your legs roughly as he did it. You felt more than desperate. Each of his touches was superficial. Each time, not quite enough. He was so close to you though and his knee nudged hard against the inside of your own knee, making you spread your legs further for him.

Baekhyun was shuffling behind you. Fidgeting with something and whatever it was, it didn’t last long enough for you to care because he was back behind you, this time his movements felt more purposeful. You felt the pad of his thumb dip between your folds and he rubbed over your clit. It made you whimper and moan and push back into him. He knew how to make you cum but he wasn’t doing it. Perhaps it was to buy himself some time to calm down. Maybe he was paying you back for all of the teasing.

“Baby, you are dripping.”

You knew you were. You could feel it. With how long and drawn out this evening had been; with how much you had been denied by him; you were sure you’d be a complete mess.

You felt the soft roundness of the tip of him, slipping in between your wetness as he pushed himself between your folds. This — this was what you needed. This was what you wanted him to do. The action made you squirm and push against him. You needed to feel this again. As he pushed in again, he was also touching you only this time you heard something unexpected. It was a striking and familiar sound that rang out. You knew this sound. This was a cell phone camera shutter. It made your eyes open back up and you looked behind yourself for answers.

Baekhyun was holding your phone and he leaned to reach for you; covering your entire back with his heat and weight he pushed the phone screen forward into your line of sight and you saw it. You saw the picture he had taken with your own cell phone. “Do you see how fucking pretty you look? So wet and needy.” His whisper into your ear had you reeling. He was still moving behind you, pushing his tip against your clit again and again; but not yet entering you.

Your eyes took in the image on your phone screen. His dick in the shot, pushing inside your wetness. Each push from him felt that much more intense with this image in front of you. You felt close to losing control and your eyes drifted closed as you dropped your head and gripped the sides of the bench tightly.

“Do you want a video?” He whispered this next question just at the moment when you felt the building pressure from his actions against your clit. He knew he was bringing you closer as he asked you this question. Your head was swimming. You couldn't process what he was asking you. “Do you want to see what I see when I fuck you?”

Did you want that?

Did you?

You reached for the phone, grabbed it and held it up for him to take. You felt his thumb replace his dick and he was rubbing again. The wetness between your legs increased and your breathing grew frantic.

“Is that a yes? Can I record a video of me fucking you?”

You nodded your head. You already felt it. Your legs were shaking and you felt the trembling as the wave of climax took your breath and your functioning mind and you cried out. It took you a second before you opened your eyes and your phone was gone from your hand.

He pushed inside of you then; in a single rough fluid motion and the inundation took you by surprise, making you cry out again. The sounds, the low grunts with his effort, the deep moans of pleasure, the whispered curses that flew from his mouth, all of the sounds from him hit you just as hard as each rough thrust into you. You felt a mess. The slight pain mixed with pleasure you felt with each thrust had you grasping to hold on to something. There was a new sensation. Something different and unexpected and he did something with his hand, pressing with his thumb in between your ass as he fucked you and you felt crushed; you felt dizzy and overcome and he was shaking and trembling; holding on so tightly to you in this way that made you lose every single thought inside of your head along with every bit of oxygen inside of your lungs.

You both must have lost your damn minds, doing this here, in this place.

You knew the oxygen must have been returning because this thought popped into your head after a few moments of clarity. Baekhyun plopped himself down onto the bench beside you and wrapped his arms around you waist, pulling you to sit down on top of his bare lap. You could still feel the mess spreading between your skin and his skin but you were too spent to care much. He was holding you tightly into him and you leaned your head back to rest against his shoulders, leaning your temple against his.

In front of you Baekhyun held up your phone. The screen was illuminated with the filthiest thumbnail of a video you’ve ever seen in your entire life, outside of occasionally desperate porn videos that you watched sometimes when you were lonely and frustrated with life.

You could feel every rough exhale from his lungs warming your neck and you turned your head to look at his profile out of the corner of your eye.

He pressed play on the video and it came to life, the real life, sinful sounds of the sex you’d just had with him. You felt oddly transfixed watching this. Not nearly as embarrassed to have this view of yourself as you thought you might have been and you felt even more surprised to see what he had done while in the height of both of your orgasms that had pushed you so over the edge at the time. The ball of spit from his mouth that landed right over your asshole. The thumb he pushed inside. Your mouth flew open and you turned to look at him.

His eyes were down on the phone and he was blinking slowly as he licked his lips and bit down. You lifted a finger to point at the screen.

“Is that what that was?” It came out as less accusatory and more of a curiosity. And you saw the tiniest grin pull at the corner of his mouth before he leaned his chin over and playfully bit you on the shoulder.

“Can I have this video too?” He whispered the tiny request and looked over at you after you didn’t respond immediately. “You can say no.” He said softly with a shrug. “You can just delete it if you want to.”

“Don't forget to delete it again from your recently deleted folder, if you do.” Something in his voice sounded quite pathetic and sad as he reminded you about the importance of being diligent when deleting your sex tapes. “I’m sorry I got drunk and spit on you and put my thumb in your butt and made a drunk sex tape with you, if that’s what you’re being quiet about.”

You covered your mouth just in time to catch the snort of laughter that erupted from your chest. This man’s post nut clarity was hitting him very hard and very quickly. From between your legs, and all over his bare lap you felt the wetness move out of you with every laugh and his face turned into a genuine wince as he seemed to hold his breath when he felt it too. You tried your best to stop the laughing but you were too amused by this nonsense.

“You can send it to yourself,” you finally said after recovering from the manic giggling. “I’m not being quiet. I am in shock.”

He bit down on the inside of his bottom lip and the smile on his face grew wide and self satisfied and he was moving his hands very quickly over your phone screen as if you might change your mind and take it back any second now.

“But you liked it,” he sing-songed with a playful shake of his head and you heard a buzz somewhere from the floor where his own phone was still tucked away inside his pocket.

“I have it now,” he said triumphantly and he abruptly turned his head to face you with a bright playfulness deep within his eyes. You looked back at him curiously, feeling that something was brewing here.

His smile widened and he, very slowly, and very annoyingly, lifted a hand up into the air in front of you, palm facing you. He held it up with that same wide smile on his face. This wasn’t a sweet smile. This was a teasing smile. His eyes were full of mischief.

“Great sex,” he whispered and those same eyes looked crazed as he motioned toward his waiting hand with the smallest whine that came from the back of his throat when you didn’t instantly give him what he wanted. He gave his raised hand the smallest shake for emphasis.

“I’m not doing that,” you said, pulling yourself up off his lap as you headed away from him toward the bathroom stall so you could clean up the mess you had all over the lower half of your body.

“Oh come on,” he said, standing up and following you. “Do it. Great sex. I said ‘Great sex.’ You have to do it. I feel,” he inhaled a trembling and very dramatic breath, “extremely cheated right now.” His hand was still up and he was chasing you around the bathroom with it.

You tried to close the stall door but he pushed his thigh through the space and after a few seconds you saw that same hand push through, palm up, stupid and expecting — no — demanding that you cooperate.

You would never know peace in your entire life if you didn’t do this.

You were also certain that you would never know peace in your entire life if you did it too, because both scenarios would encourage his ridiculousness.

You lifted the quickest hand and slapped his palm.

“Woo!” He shouted, “Got the high-five!”

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo story

94 notes · View notes

holocene-sims · 2 months

Text

next // previous

august 25, 2021 8:00 p.m. the black pearl

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #story trivia: i renamed the restaurant after an exo song and a kitchen nightmares episode lmaooo #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: henry

48 notes · View notes

eruden-writes · 3 days

Text

Room & Board - Part 22 (Vampire x Reader x Werewolf)

paranormal fantasy vampire x human eventual triad (x werewolf)

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Masterlist First | Previous | Next

x x x x x

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on:

*:･ﾟ✧ Patreon or Ko-Fi *:･ﾟ✧

x x x x x

"Tabaeus, you were created to be a repository for memories. That was your whole poin—" Lachlan's attempts to justify his actions come to a halt. He violently coughs as Tabaeus slams their free hand through his back. Bones crack before you hear – more than see – the sound of tissue and flesh tearing. Tabaeus's hand jerks back, withdrawing a pulsing organ from Lachlan.

Standing, the beastly form shucks away from your vampire, leaving their nude human like form. With a kick, they force Lachlan onto his back and pin them down with a foot. The other vampire's attention flickers to his own heart in the Memory Keeper's hand. Lachlan's chest heaves as his eyes dart from Tabaeus's face to their hand, then wildly around to the other vampires present.

His eyes are begging for someone, anyone, to step in. No one moves an inch.

When Lachlan's eyes return to Tabaeus, tears actively stream down his cheeks. He shakes his head wildly as your vampire considers him, their head tilted like a cat observing a mouse under their paw. Tabaeus flexes their hand around the heart and Lachlan jerks.

It's only now that you realize a darkness is creeping over the organ, much like how the shadows moved around Tabaeus and how rust crept along metal at their touch.

Tabaeus squeezes the heart again and Lachlan cries out, gasping open-mouthed. There's only a split second when you catch your vampire's eyes narrowing, as if debating mercy. Across the distance, they glance your way. You meet their eyes and all you can think of is how leaving Lachlan alive would mean always looking over your shoulder. Not just for Tabaeus or you, but for Ewan, Jemma, Bjarka, and Liuvia.

With a small movement, you shake your head and Tabaeus nods. Their gaze swings back down to Lachlan, who saw how your vampire sought your gaze. Lachlan's gaze is vicious on you and, though he is subdued, your stomach reflexively curdles with fear.

That seems to be all the confirmation Tabaeus needs. Their hand tightens around Lachlan's heart, crushing the organ with the easy flex. Rotten flesh and viscera and blood explodes in Tabaeus's palm as Lachlan gives an otherworldly shriek, convulsing savagely. Darkness creeps over Lachlan as he caves in on himself, withering. The weight of Tabaeus's foot is enough to shatter the husk into dust.

Stillness and quiet falls, different than the pressure and silence of earlier.

It's only when Tabaeus moves, tilting their head up from the pile of ash toward the others present, that a ripple runs through the other vampires. They slowly spin, catching every vampire in their gaze.

"Know that the most powerful among you was no match for me," Tabaeus's words loudly ring out, echoing off the ceiling. "If any of you wretched little pissants bother myself or those I call mine, I will end this whole coven. Now, begone!"

Strange sucking and popping sounds fill the air as hundreds of vampires escape Tabaeus's presence. All manner of vampires in new forms – bats, rats, and swarms of insects – flee. Others melt into shadows. Still others simply turn and run, their footfalls fading quickly into the distance.

Until the last sounds of the exodus die away, Tabaeus does not move. The dark black-purple fades from their limbs, the glowing of their eyes subsiding. With a vague surprise, you realize they're uninjured. All the bites and bruises you walked in on are now gone, leaving behind mostly unmarred skin, save for the autopsy scars.

They glare off into the distance, not turning toward you. You almost wonder if they're trying to ignore you, to forget you're even present.

"Tabaeus?" You take a step closer, shaking off Ewan's protective grasp while feeling Jemma's gaze on your back. Tabaeus jerks at the sound of your voice, their muscles tensing as you edge closer toward them. Just as your hand reaches out, brushes against their bare arm, they wheel toward you and grab your wrist.

"It was dangerous for you to come!" A steeliness glints in their red eyes, mingling between anger and worry. Their gaze flicks to Ewan and Jemma, their lip curling with rage. "It was dangerous for you all!"

Despite the heat of exhaustion pounding at the back of your eyes, you bite back and motion toward the pile of cushions, "If we hadn't, you'd still be chained up and used!"

"That is beside the point," they snap, but their gaze flickers to their previous sitting area. Something tenses in their body. The hard gleam in their eyes softens as their gaze flicks back to you. Their shoulders sag, their grasp on your wrist loosening a little. "Utterly beyond the point."

You stare up at Tabaeus, a flurry of feelings flitting through your head. Relief to finally see them again, frustration at their reaction, glad to finally have them – and not their listless other self – standing before you.

Before you can think of what to say, Jemma steps forward. Her hands fall to your shoulder and Tabaeus's arm, making you and the vampire startle. "Can we get moving, before those bloodsuckers decide to come back and try to gang up on us?"

Tabaeus's eyes narrow on her imperiously as they step away from her touch, though they still hold your wrist. "I am sure I can take them all."

"Yeah, well I don't want to test it," Jemma hisses back, her lips puckering with disagreement as her eyes flick to the still shadowy pipes and crevices overhead. Not waiting for you, she turns sharply and begins to leave the room. Over the flap of her bag, Liuvia and Bjarka watch you with big round eyes.

Tabaeus finally releases you, turning and muttering something about needing something to wear.

After securing one of the tapestries like a floor-length cloak around Tabaeus – saving both their modesty from public eye and their skin from the sun – your group retraces through the underbelly of the mall. All of you trudge on quietly, the way lit by Jemma's magic.

The eerie silence settles through the space, each of you mentally gnawing on your own thoughts, though the silence doesn't feel as dangerous as before. Just empty, which is unnerving in a different way. The only sounds are from your group's footfalls and the shift of the makeshift cloak Tabaeus wears.

"Why didn't you do all that sooner?" Ewan poses the question as soon as you step free of the basement stairs. He has shifted back to his human form, though a full short beard lingers on his jaw. In the light of Jemma's magic flame, you realize his clothes are more than a little bedraggled and torn, probably due to both the transformation and the fight. Catching your eyes, Ewan flashes you an awkward smile.

Tabaeus gives a hum, indicating they've heard Ewan's question though they continue forward. The image of them, back straight and draped in a cloak, oddly reminds you of an image from a book from your childhood. A prim matron, nose in the air, with her charges following at brisk pace at her heels.

Like the image in your head, you, Ewan, and Jemma follow after Tabaeus. The curious weight in the air making it apparent everyone was waiting for the vampire to elaborate.

"I was designated a Memory Keeper early into my turning," they finally begin, slowly picking their words like a novice plucking at lute strings. Their red eyes turn downward, toward their still bare feet, as their eyebrows furrow. "For a long time, there were many other vampires older than myself, more powerful than myself. I was handed down and inherited by others and each decade, there were more and more memories to retain and less Keepers for them."

When Tabaeus glances toward you, they realize Ewan and Jemma stare, along with Liuva and Bjarka from the witch's satchel. Their pace slows, registering the sudden attention as their shoulders rise awkwardly and the vampire weakly finishes, "I suspect the method for creation of a Memory Keeper was lost at some point."

"If there even was one to begin with," you retort just as your foot hits the ground floor, sunlight streaming in from the skylights in the ceiling. The words are out of you before you can think about it, but you focus on Tabaeus, judging their reaction. They don't flinch or cringe, but a new tiredness creases their eyes. If there was nothing special about being a Memory Keeper, then they were kept and used for no good reason. Others could have helped retain a coven's memories, instead of the duty falling squarely on their shoulders.

The other vampires just wanted to use Tabaeus rather than sacrifice any of themselves. That thought sends a brief rage through your body, but it dies down quickly beneath a dampening blanket of tiredness. Those other vampires don't matter now. With Tabaeus's show of power, you doubt any of the coven that bore witness would bother them again. Of course, perhaps that was optimistic on your part.

"Yes, if there was even a process to begin with." Tabaeus echoes your sentiment as their arm withdraws from their makeshift cloak to pinch at the bridge of their own nose. They sidestep the shafts of light that litter the floor, sticking to the shadows at the edges. "With greater numbers of vampires and fewer Memory Keepers, it perhaps caused me to... lose sight of myself."

From the other side of Tabaeus, walking blatantly through the rectangles of light, Ewan frowns. "I still don't understand why you didn't demolish them all sooner."

"To know what one is capable of, one must know oneself." Tabaeus sighs and scrubs a hand down their face. You can tell they're struggling to put words to their experiences and logic, though they seem to be keeping pace with the conversation. "Being near constantly in a fugue state and without an older vampire able or willing to guide me, I did not know what powers I grew into. Quite honestly, everything I did down there was instinct."

"You still seemed to be pretty out of it when we came, though. Until, well..." With a motion of your hand, you indicate your neck. Tabaeus pauses, causing everyone else to stop as well. With the sun streaming in, it feels less urgent to leave the mall behind. Something creases at the vampire's expression as they stare at your neck, again searching for the words they want to say.

"When I was with you, you allowed me to re-establish who I am to myself. Gave me the space to explore what it means to be me. When I fed on you, your memories and mine locked together to remind me of it all," Tabaeus begins, soft and slow. They lock their gaze with yours and you already know what they're thinking, what they're remembering. Those moments you two shared, from that first night they stalked you to the very last night when they left. Reaching out, Tabaeus presses their cold fingers to the shadowy side of your neck and it's only then you realize you stand half in shade, half in sunlight.

Still, Tabaeus doesn't break their gaze from yours. You think something akin to wonderment or reverence flashes behind their red eyes, making heat rise to your face. Their lips curl hesitantly into a gentle smile, worsening the warmth inside you as they take your hand in both of their own. "I owe my whole being to you, amata."

Words are lost on your tongue as heat intensifies within you. A flush crawls over your cheeks, painfully aware that Ewan, Jemma, and the imps are watching. Your eyes fall to Tabaeus's chest, where your hand his clasped against their chest. In an attempt to say something to fill the silence, your lips part, but slowly close again as Tabaeus's thumb skirts your knuckles, losing whatever thought you had.

It's Ewan who finds something to say with a kind of fondness teasing at the corner of his lips. "Corny ass."

Tabaeus's head snaps up to look at Ewan, though they don't move their hand from cupping yours. Their nose wrinkles as they hiss, "That as it may be, Fido–"

The grin on Ewan's lips twitches a tiny bit wider as he interjects, "Oh good. Still got anti-lycan sentiments, I see."

The vampire ignores him as they continue onward, tugging you along by your wrist. Ewan follows like a pup at your heels.

"–it is the truth. Amata and, to a far lesser extent, you," Tabaeus's lips twist into a scowl as they glance at Ewan, "allowed me to reinstate who I am to myself. Which I suppose I should thank you – both of you – for."

"Aw, it's nice to be appreciated," Ewan croons and you shoot him a tight-lipped look. You can't blame him for being an ass. It seems impossible to ask either Ewan or Tabaeus to treat each other civilly, at least perpetually. There's a brightness to Ewan's eyes that softens your pointed look at him. Relief flicks in his eyes, his body language relaxed for the first time since Tabaeus left.

Unaware of your realization, Ewan leans closer to Tabaeus, a smirk spread wide enough across his lips that his pointed teeth flash in the sun. "Bet I'm the only werewolf in history that has a vampire's appreciation."

Tabaeus shoots Ewan another withering look, but – like before – it has little heat. In fact, you believe they're more embarrassed than genuinely aggravated with Ewan. Regardless, the vampire shakes their head, still not pausing, before motioning to Jemma. "What I do not understand is why they are here?"

At that, Jemma snorts and rolls her eyes. "I helped find you. So, a thanks for me is in order too."

"But who are yo–" Tabaeus begins to ask as they turn toward her, before Jemma gathers up her hair in a ponytail and magics up her uniform's cap. As she plops the hat on her head, feeding the ponytail through the hat, the vampire's eyes widen in recognition. A delighted edge overtaking the previous aggravation in their words, "Oh! The iced cream purveyor! I thought I scented mana on you, but I thought it was, perhaps, the food."

"And I thought vampires couldn't eat food," Jemma returns as her hands fall to her sides again. This time, it's she who leads the movement back through the mall. The exit is in sight now. Through the large windows, you see the sun has crested the midpoint and is on its way down. A pang of hunger shoots through your stomach and you vaguely wonder if it's safe to visit the diner one last time before leaving.

Tabaeus still leads you forward, though their attention is on Jemma. "We can. Well, I can. And I do a great many things vampires reportedly cannot."

Once more, Jemma pauses. She eyes Tabaeus, an intrigued glint in her eye as she takes inventory of the vampire. "Interesting."

"Is it?" Tabaeus stops, their grip flexing on your wrist. For some reason, they seem nervous under Jemma's discerning gaze. Adjusting the hold, you slide your palm properly into Tabaeus's own.

"Considering the oldest vampires I know of are about 1000 years old and even they didn't eat non-blood meals, yes." Jemma hums briefly and you glance at her, unable to fully read the considering expression on the witch's face. You imagine you see old tomes and aged text flipping through the rolodex of her mind. "Is Tabaeus your given name?"

"I believe so," they answer, their brow furrowed. "Why?"

You can see where this is heading. Jemma's thought mirrors one you've had multiple times: how old is Tabaeus? However, unlike you, Jemma has experience and access to finding out more information about vampires. Or seems to, at least.

"When we get back, I'll delve into some research." Jemma turns away, pushing through the exit doors. "You may be far older than any vampire in recorded history."

"Excuse me?" To that, Tabaeus's eyelids fluttered rapidly, the thought apparently difficult to digest. Gently, you guide them out of the way of the shafts of sun that fan out on the floor from Jemma opening the door.

"One existential problem at a time, please, Jemma," you call after the witch as she briskly walks through the threshold. She doesn't seem to notice, her mind a million miles away in some archive.

Not one to pass up an opportunity, Ewan chuckles as he passes Tabaeus. As he does, he jostles the vampire with a shoulder bump. "Bet you wish you were a young pup now, you old bat."

Tabaeus answers with a hissing lunge toward Ewan, but the werewolf merely cackles as he dances into the sunlight. Instinctively, Tabaeus freezes at the light, before remembering their cloak. Your wrist forgotten; they pursue after a laughing Ewan to deliver retribution as the werewolf ducks laughingly in the car.

Inwardly, you stifle a sigh, realizing the road trip back home is going to be far more chaotic than the prior sober journey. With a backward glance into the quiet mall, however, you know any amount of friendly chaos is better than what lurked under your feet.

A loud curse comes from the car where Ewan and Tabaeus tussle. As you turn to look, you find Jemma glaring through the rearview mirror at the two, her lips twisted in reprimand as she speaks. A smile teases at your lips as you cross the threshold of the mall, leaving behind the lingering shadows.

It's time to head home.

x x x x x

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on:

*:･ﾟ✧ Patreon or Ko-Fi *:･ﾟ✧

24 notes · View notes

official-locke-writing · 8 months

Text

Beauregard-4

"He is corrupted by Darkness. Forced to reign terror upon his own family in a fit of delusion spurred on by lies." Lore - 2,317 words w/ illustrations

Early Life

Beauregard's floral shop in Alaska. Mixed media work.

Beauregard-4 is a 7th generation (Face 7) Exo developed by BrayTech one decade before the Collapse took place. During the Golden Age, Beauregard "Beau" was a florist who owned his own small business in Alaska, United States. He lived a block away from a Mexican food joint, where he met the owner, Katrina Remington. Katrina would often bring him food after his shift ended at night, and her interested in him quickly snowballed into something more. They would spend hours at his shop talking and learning about each other. Sparks would soon fly and they became a couple.

Beauregard's appearance during the Golden Age is drastically different from his current look.

Name: Beauregard L. Kelly Age: 27 Biological Sex: Male DOB: 13 October 2598 Race: Human Caucasian Eye color: Brown Hair color: Black Mental illness: Undiagnosed Schizophrenia Height: 6’5” Weight: 185 lbs. (72.6 kgs)

Beauregard became a prime target for one of Clovis Bray's experiments. He dedicated himself very heavily into his work. He had a great eye for shape, color and form and his floral arrangements were beautiful. BrayTech learned of this man who usually works by himself, has limited outside connections, has an undiagnosed mental illness and realized not many would notice if he disappeared. Their agenda for converting him into an Exo lied with the question if an organic neurological disorder could be applied to an Exo, if it would transfer, and what the effects would be on the afflicted machine.

The company manipulated and blackmailed Beauregard until he came in to "willingly" volunteer for the transfer, just like they did with every experiment. Bray wanted to see if schizophrenic people would still exhibit symptoms after the transfer and Beau ended up working for BrayTech in secret, forgetting Katrina and disappearing from his flower shop, which closed permanently as no one was around to maintain it.

Exo neurotransfers result in the death of the biological volunteer. The neurotransfer concluded that the new Exo created from Beauregard's consciousness fully transferred the symptoms of Schizophrenia into the Exo, Beauregard-1, who experienced hallucinations and infrequent, yet consistent delusions throughout its lifespan. Beau would go on to reboot twice as he experienced complications with adjusting to his Exo body.

Soon after, the Collapse occurred. Beauregard was lost to the torrent of Darkness sweeping over the world.

Resurrection

Beauregard shortly after resurrecting as a Guardian. Original 3D render.

Beauregard-4 is a naturally gentle soul. He often finds comfort in artistic hobbies such as painting, tinkering, and cooking. He was resurrected within the Alaskan Wasteland just before Red War ocurred, surrounded by dead Exos and a ruined BrayTech facility. He had to travel on foot to the Last City. It was a long and treacherous journey. His relationship with his mentor, Cayde-6, was a close one. He trained extra hours with him in order to accommodate for his initial shortcomings. He was not skilled with weapons or had any knowledge of combat training. Beau was no soldier, but Cayde persisted with him.

Beau's relationship with the other members of the Vanguard was professional yet endearing. Ikora liked him, but Zavala believed him to be unfit for the job. His mental health became apparent after a patrol on the moon, where he believed that phantoms had followed him home. He spent a lot of time in and out of therapy. His Schizophrenia became well-managed and rarely got in the way of his duties. His hallucinations were harmless.

Beauregard's favorite color is pink and often wore it during his early days as a New Light. He claims that it reminds him of cherry blossoms and calms him down. Beauregard suffered from frequent panic attacks and had trouble acclimating to a combat-heavy environment. Over time and experience, Beauregard became a skilled Solar Hunter specializing in Gunslinging hand canons. He is skilled with a bow and has acute control over nearby flames, using their energy to power himself.

Beau lived in a standard flat given to New Lights at the Tower. His room was organized chaos, with ammunition, guns and various trinkets strewn about the room. His walls were covered in Golden Age movie posters as he has a knack for collecting antique items. Beauregard loves painting his weapons and armor.

Corruption Arc

Beauregard in a rampage with the Ace of Spades. Original digital artwork by EchoSong971.

Beau changed as a person after Cayde-6's death. He let his actions become controlled by grief, and the Darkness soon noticed. Taking advantage of this mental weakness, the Darkness crept into Beauregard's mind and shattered his psyche. Beauregard fell into madness, suffering psychotic episodes, delusions of his deceased mentor tormenting him, and a warped perception of the Traveler. He destroyed Uldren's Barons in an unhinged fiery rage.

Beauregard fought out of necessity, not out of hatred. It was a major change in character, and his fireteam became concerned for him.

The Darkness turned him against his fireteam, his friends, and the Vanguard. On one fateful patrol, Beauregard broke down and slaughtered all three of his fireteam members. He then retreated into a cave on Mars and hid from the law for many months. The risen Guardian, Katrina, finds him in mental crisis within this cave. The Vanguard sent her to locate and deliver him to them.

Katrina felt sympathy for him after seeing him in such a state. Over the span of a week, Katrina slowly gained his trust and convinced him to return to the H.E.L.M with her to seek treatment and face his punishment.

Prison Arc

Beauregard being taken into custody. Original 3D render.

The Traveler is a traitor to everyone who has ever fought for it. You have devoted everything to it. Your body, your talents, your beliefs, your hope. You’ve sacrificed so much for your machine god, and what has it given you in return? Grief and sorrow. Loss. It doesn’t protect you. It takes and takes with no regard for any of you.

Beau curls up in a forsaken cave—a Fallen outpost long since abandoned. His ghost, Crush, sits in his lap as the exo worryingly mutters to himself. Crush knew he was having another episode, and simply sat with him, hoping it passed soon. Ever since his Vanguard perished, Beau changed. His usual soft spoken demeanor shifted to that of paranoia and hatred. His hallucinations were always there, but easy to manage and harmless. Recently, they intensified into something completely unmanageable. Paranoid delusions, hallucinations and terrible nightmares plagued him every day. Crush could only watch. Watch Beau have conversations with a dead man. Watch him slowly reject the Traveler as something forced his perspective to shift blame. This wasn’t like Beau at all.

Crush watches him get sucked back to that night again and again. Beau doesn’t sleep.

In one moment, his boots were digging into moondust and the ashes of fallen Hive. In the next, he found himself in the arms of two Frames. His head hurt—he couldn’t recognize this cold, stoic hallway they escorted him down. Numbered doors lined the clouds in his vision, and the neon lights hanging above him disoriented him further. He looks down at himself as his feet struggle to keep up with the guards.

The Traveler has killed everyone you ever loved. It deserves the same.

He could no longer feel his beloved hand cannon on his hip nor the bullets lining his belt. Everything echoed around him… The smell of stale chemical cleaner wafted into his face as a large airlock opened in front of them, and he was taken into a blank room with white walls, a white floor, and a single chair tucked into the corner. A second airlock remained straight ahead. There were no port windows, no labels, nothing to give him any semblance of what was going on. He looks down at his chest as the guards release their death grip and take up posts by the door they entered from. It closes behind them and he watches nine different locks engage on that door.

It’s tearing you apart. I know it does. Do it. Make the Traveler feel what you feel.

Steel handcuffs dig into his wrists—metal-on-metal left them aching. Something itched at the back of his head. He could easily overpower these two and walk straight out of here, but he knew something was wrong. Those guards had Vanguard insignias on their chest plates. The Vanguard had arrested him? Why? Questions raced through his head; he tried his damndest to remember the night before this, but every time he clawed at that corner of his brain, it recoiled and dissolved into nothingness.

A thrall’s cranium crumbles under his boot. It’s screaming at him for mercy. It’s using his voice. “Beauregard.”

He sits down on the chair as the intercom kicks on, screeching into his ears and making his head split. He ignores the spiders crawling up and down his arms and stares at the floor. Red stains littered his half-stripped armor. He frowns. Hive blood wasn’t red-

“Beauregard. Do you understand why you’re here?”

Ikora boomed over the intercom–or maybe his audio processor was shot. Maybe she could help him make sense of all this. “Ikora? Where is everyone?”

There’s a small pause. A hesitant confusion. “I was alerted to an emergency distress broadcast coming from one of your fireteam members. They said you attacked them without warning.”

“I’d never do that. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t. No one had any reason to believe this might happen, which is why you’re here instead of in a maximum-security cell, currently. I have reason to believe you are sick.”

“Sick with what?” Beauregard shifts in his seat, eyes fixated on the blood crusted onto his uniform. His heart leapt into his throat. “Sick with what?”

“I am sorry. I’ve been doing everything I can.”

The vagueness frustrated him. Beauregard felt a horrible pit burrow into his stomach; how could he have let this happen? “I’ve sent you to a place where everyone can remain safe while you undergo treatment. The Darkness has you in its grasp, and I don’t want to lose you forever, Beau. Please don’t fight them. I know you won’t lose this battle.”

The intercom shuts down with a click, and the two guards pull him out of his seat, marching him through the remaining corridors that seem to repeat forever. Beau leaned over to peek into one of the windows of the thick steel doors, only to see an empty cell.

He wouldn’t fight. It was never in his nature to fight anyone who wasn’t actively putting innocents at risk. Beauregard was a sensitive and kind-natured man with a love for flowers and artistry, not cold-blooded murder. He turns to one of the frames, voice cracking as he asks, “did any of them survive?”

He never receives an answer.

An artistic moodboard for capturing the visual aesthetic of Beauregard's character design.

Beauregard spent several years recovering in a psyche ward before being transferred to a prison in space for the remainder of his time spent for the murders of his teammates. During his time there, Katrina visited him often, smuggling him baked goods and spending time with him during visitation hours to check on his mental state. Over this time period, Beau remained in a completely lost mental state, completely unaware of his surroundings. He eventually began to recognize Katrina and speak with her in limited amounts.

In an alternate timeline within this story, Cayde survives and also visits him. As his former Vanguard, Cayde feels a sense of responsibility for his wellbeing.

One day, Katrina smuggles in brownies for Beau. This act of kindness was the first steppingstone to his recovery. Within a few weeks, Beau found himself lucid and tentatively pining for her.

Recovery Arc

Sketches of Katrina and Beauregard. Art by EchoSong971.

His prison stay changed him completely. Beau completely misses everything between Forsaken and Witch Queen, only being released around the time Witch Queen starts (in my canon, this is a much longer time than canon DLC release dates.) His emotional and gentle personality hardened into something cold and stoic. He became quiet, wore black more often and kept to himself. Upon release, he was forbidden from the Tower and could not enter without someone trusted watching over him. Katrina stepped up to this role eagerly. Beauregard opted to bunk with Katrina in order to regain his bearings. This was in hopes to eventually work the odd job for the Vanguard in order to improve his standing with them.

The Vanguard is extremely distrustful of Beau and regards him with caution most times. Beauregard has made it an internal mission to prove to them that he was stable and recovered. His schizophrenic hallucinations are more apparent at this time, but heavily managed with the help of Katrina.

After roughly another year goes by (throughout Witch Queen,) Beauregard begins to insert himself within the affairs of the Vanguard and re-teaches himself his old training. He becomes a rogue lightbearer and occasionally working alongside Kat, offering his pure firepower. Most of the time, he remains at home, engaging in basic tasks to readjust himself to home life once again.

Trivia

Beauregard opts for the combined use of Solar, Ace of Spades and Lucky Pants in order to pack an outrageously high amount of damage with each shot, ranging into the 15,000 units of damage.

He has a 115 Defense stat.

Beau is featured in an upcoming graphic story, Hearts & Spades, written by EchoSong971.

Beauregard had a custom-modeled 3D rig for portraits. It was lost during a computer failure in which his files were lost.

He has been featured on Bungie's official community creations page.

Katrina belongs to @echosong971

44 notes · View notes

userbbh · 1 month

Text

240316 lonsdaleite in seoul angel story / do not edit, crop logo

#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo #240316 #lonsdaleite #fantaken #angel story

17 notes · View notes

peachysooxo · 5 months

Text

Coming Soon: The Kingdom of Us

pairing: kyungsoo x OC genre: Royal!AU, nonidol!soo, romance, drama

theme: arranged marriage, modern royalty, acquaintances to lovers, war, betrayal word count: TBD description: Princess Alina of Mariposa had only read about romance in books and daydreamed of what her life would turn out to be like with her betrothed, Crown Prince Kyungsoo of Seoul. The problem is, Kyungsoo is nothing like the Prince Charming that Alina read about in fairytales.

Kyungsoo’s life had been mapped out for him since he was born: be the picture perfect son, marry Alina and become King. His every move was calculated and controlled. His heart is closed off and resents Alina for being the symbol of the prison he felt his life had always been.

Between lies, betrayal and secrets, the life Alina dreamed of slips further and further away from her grasp.

warnings: mature themes, mentions of abuse, war, death, smut, minors DNI

Author’s Notes: this story was created after watching 100 DMP and has been ongoing on AO3. The idea of a completely alternate universe where not even the countries that we know of today exist and the earth is filled with kingdoms was fascinating, especially in a modern setting. Writing Soo as a prince is also just an added bonus. Trigger/Content warnings will be clearly listed before each chapter. Please enjoy :)

#EXO #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #royal au #modern royalty au #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo as a prince #exo do #exo do kyungsoo #d.o. kyungsoo #the kingdom of us fanfic #doh kyungsoo #prince kyungsoo #exo royalty #love story #exo fic rec

20 notes · View notes

andimoon · 8 months

Text

Unknown Thoughts (Part 4)

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Romance / Eventual Smut

Warnings: Um, idk for this one. Maybe be prepared to be stressed.

Work count: 2.8K

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Finally, a letter from her beloved. Finally, after months of busyness and silence, she finally received an invitation to visit him. Baekhyun’s letters reached the Lady countless times, words of longing and contempt over their distance. And each and every word made Vivian want to run to him, to tell him everything, to embrace him and beg forgiveness for her months of silence. Her fingertips grazed over his lovely writing and released the ache in her chest into a soft hum. As much as she missed him, she knew she needed to keep on edge and that would be a difficult task when Baekhyun knew how to break down all of her walls. When everything he did left Vivian feeling like a puddle on the ground.

She would need Eloise’s support in keeping their secret. They’d done the thing her prince had told her not to do.

“No, absolutely not.” One of the rare instances where she saw genuine anger behind those black eyes. “How could you give up that much time to that woman?”

“Baekhyun, that woman saved my life. She’s the only reason I’m in front of you right now.” She was practically yelling at him and she could see the hurt takeover his face. With a steady breath, she lowered her tone, willing herself to calm down, “I can’t just let her die, especially when I have so much time to give.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his frown deepened. Vivian hated it. “So much to give? What about your time with me? Is it worthless to you?” Worthless? Her time with him was the most valuable thing in the world. Did he not see how important this was to warrant such a thing? He sat on the mattress where he’d made love to her the night before. When he had that smile plastered on his gorgeous face and the love in his eyes as he stared only at her. Her fingertips traced his cheeks as she leaned onto her knees in front of him, willing him to stare into her eyes just as he had the night before.

“My love,” she begged, “I need to save her. Please.”

That argument happened nearly a year prior and after being far too persistent she finally convinced him to meet with her closest friend. Vivian was certain that when they met he would finally realize how important it was to have Eloise in her life. “Please try to get along with her. Ellie is the closest thing I have to a sister.”

“Only for you,” was his response and yet his efforts were obvious to the lady, though the maid didn’t seem interested even as he tried to break down every wall that divided them. Eloise had always been kind and formal with everyone other than Vivian. She knew that was the way Ellie had always been, but even still, she desperately wanted her beloved and closest friend to get along with one another.

Despite the Transferring having occurred months ago, the noble couldn’t help but still wonder if Baekhyun’s prayers were the cause of the error with the procedure. His energy always had a magic within it so it couldn’t have been that far out of the range of possibility. Another deep grounding breath and she finally packed up the sweet letter along with her most valuable possessions into her smallest case.

A voice rang out from behind the door along with a soft knock, “My lady, The Duke has requested that you join him for breakfast this morning.”

“Alright, I’ll be right there.” This was fortunate timing, she’d be able to tell Kyungsoo about their change of plans. Surely he wouldn’t mind, they’d already taken away so much of his time. Kyungsoo always had so much to do, she wasn’t surprised that upon hearing of their departure he took the opportunity to return to it. The day was busy and passed quickly as a result, but Vivian kept contemplating everything that had happened. Ellie had lost most of her memories, which didn’t seem to be returning, but it was nice to see her returning to some semblance of normalcy. Perhaps since her lover and her maiden were not that close to begin with he wouldn’t notice the changes in her.

Baekhyun didn’t even know when Eloise’s last day would be, there was no way for him to know the procedure had already taken place. So it bought Vivian time to come up with the right way to tell him about it, but she knew for a fact that the news needed to come from her lips. If her prince heard about it from anyone else… She feared his reaction.

“It’ll be okay.” She reminded herself in a soft huff, smoothing her hands over the front of her gown. Eloise’s presence in the carriage made the trip bearable. Most of her stresses were successfully smothered by the time they arrive to her lover’s castle.

The lavish display was normal for Baekhyun, and the way his eyes instantly locked with hers, the utter adoration is his gaze. He was her everything, her very breath and the reason her blood flowed under her skin. The world disappeared, only his smile, his warmth in the fingertips that reached for her and held on for dear life. It had been so long she thought her soul would shatter in his absence. She longed to embrace him and never let go. “My love,” she breathed out, holding his hand just as tightly between both of hers, “it’s been so long, I’m glad to see you.”

“Why haven’t you responded to any of my letters? Did they not reach you?” His pout made her chuckle, just a second ago he was acting like a god on top of the world, and now he was complaining like that, with the press together of his pretty pink lips and the furrow of his eyebrows.

Vivian wanted to press her thumb against the little wrinkle and a small kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry, my love,” she was sure he could sense the teasing in her tone with the way his head tilted to get a better look at her, “Kyungsoo invited me to visit. I thought it would be a good opportunity for Eloise and I to get away for a little while.” His pout deepened at the mention of the other man and she tried to bite back her smile, leaning in a little closer to her lover, “So please don’t be mad, okay?” The softest huff left his chest followed by a rather dramatic sigh.

“You did enjoy your stay with The Duke?” his tone slightly mocking the title but Vivian knew that her lover adored the man just as much as she did.

“I did. It was a pleasant trip.” Now that she had her dose of the prince and was able to think clearly for a moment she risked a glance at Eloise who was a solid two meters away. Baekhyun followed her gaze and he made a small sound of confusion, a thousand thoughts flashing behind his eyes and Vivian feared her betrothed was noticing something in her maid’s demeanor.

He called out to her, using the nickname Vivian called her by. The nickname she had given him permission to use. The name he used when he tried to befriend Eloise. Vivian knew that. She knew that, but still hearing the casual words, the seriousness behind his tongue. It felt foreign. He noticed something.

He called to her again and this time Vivian silently urged her to act normal. This was okay. But Eloise’s silence was deafening. Those amber eyes downturned and the same look of surprise she had when they met with Kyungsoo. Luckily there were no tears this time, but Vivian made a mental note to talk with her when they had a chance. She needed to know what was going on inside her maiden’s brain.

The walk was long and uncomfortably awkward as they made their way to a parlor room, one that had seen a major renovation. “Wow, Baekhyun, this is incredible.” His contagious smile lit up his face and he took a seat on a gold accented couch, he patted the spot next to him but Vivian knew better than to be that close with Eloise in the room. She shot a little crunch in her nose as she sat across from him. Those black eyes and that knowing smirk on his lips left her breathless.

“We’re so behind on wedding plans, I hope you know.” Vivian almost believed him. Baekhyun loved to tease but he would never actually let anything for her fall behind schedule.

“I see,” she hummed, “this is quite serious. We really must do something about it.”

He leaned onto his knees and the look on his face told Vivian she was about to regret playing along. “I can think of a few things, Princess.” She shot him a warning. Now was not the time or place for his shameless flirting. Not when Eloise was in the room with them. The prince hummed in amusement before shifting his attention back to the woman he wasn’t supposed to be ignoring this way. In the silence they heard the way her breath came out in short huffs, Eloise’s knuckles had gone white from how tightly she held onto her skirt. Was she afraid? Perhaps it was unfair of Vivian to ask such a thing from Ellie.

His seriousness was back as he tried to get the maiden to speak again and Vivian’s heart sank. This was getting too close for comfort, if she was going to step in, it should be now before he realized anything more. “She’s been having a hard week, my love,” she tried to keep her voice as light hearted as possible, “Perhaps we should let her rest.” It wasn’t a lie so she had no reason to feel afraid, yet the seriousness behind his eyes, the slight jut of his jaw and the bob of his Adam’s apple with that forced swallow. It all had her trembling. He needed to agree. Eloise needed to step away before their secret was revealed.

Much to her relief he did. Whatever the prince had noticed, he didn’t mention it even after the maid had left them. This was the first time Vivian felt uncomfortable alone with her beloved. The nerves slammed against every bone in her body, and she smothered the feeling the instant it arose in her. “A hard week?”

“You know how straightforward Kyungsoo can be,” she was lying through her teeth and it tasted like spoiled milk on her tongue. It felt so wrong but she knew better than to admit wrongdoing. He knew. He knew she was lying and the scornful downturn of his lips left her biting her own.

“Vivian.” He used her real name. He was upset. He knew.

She masked her worry with a light hearted brush off, “I brought you gifts from our visit. We should open them.”

“Vivian,” he started again, “What happened?”

“What do you mean? The gifts? It’s been so long since I saw you, you were on my mind the entire—“

“Vivian.” He stood and in an instant he was looming over her, the anger roaring off of him in waves. He knew. It was irrefutable at this point and Viv closed her eyes, a defeated sigh leaving her lips.

“I told you,” she hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of, it was her body, her life line, her family, “I needed to save her.” No matter what he did, Vivian held onto the knowledge that he loved her. He would never hurt her. Baekhyun was silent and she saw as the anger slowly disappear behind his eyes, she watched as he sank to his knees in front of her exactly as she had done the last time they talked about this exact situation. No words were spoken as he reached for her hand, tracing those beautiful fingertips over the mark on her wrist. The ‘96’ previously edged into her skin was replaced by ‘66’ and his eyebrows dug together in pain. “My love,” she reached for his face, searching for his eyes, “It’s alright. I’m alright. I’m here, I’m alive. And that time is yours, I promise.”

After what felt like an eternity he finally let out a sound, a small breath that told her Baekhyun believed her. He trusted her and he leaned back onto his heels from his spot on the ground. “And Eloise?”

Eloise. She was different, that much was clear to everyone involved. “She,” the words got stuck in a lump at the back of her throat, “She lost her memories.” The warmth of his palm against her cheek comforted her and Vivian leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry.” It was genuine. He felt remorse for the impossible choice he had forced her to make.

“It’ll be alright.” The same line she’d been repeating to herself for months, willing her mind to believe the words. “This is an opportunity to give her a good life. She’s worked so hard her whole life, taking care of me. It’s time I do the same for her.” His eyes lowered once more and Vivian lifted his chin, needing him to know how important this was. “I can only do that if you’re by my side. I’m stronger when you’re with me.”

He searched her gaze for a moment, licking his lips and swallowing down whatever words he wanted to say. A small nod of his head and he leaned up to kiss her, relishing in the softness of his lips against her own and her fingertips sought the feathery hair at the nape of his neck. It had been so long since she felt his warmth, the sweet love that melted from his tongue and the press of his forehead against her own. “I’m here. I’ll always be by your side.” His reassurance swelled in her chest and the relief exploded through her, her smile came naturally for the first time in months. They spent most of the day together, making up for lost time in any way they could, but Vivian knew she needed to talk to Eloise tonight.

Somehow, by the grace of some god, she managed to convince her lover to leave her alone. Surely he’d gone to bed already. Surely after the near hour she waited, the coast was clear. The need to hide her actions burrowed itself in her stomach, it felt wrong but necessary for some reason. The looming halls held no place to hide and she moved quickly, ducking around corners whenever she heard the echoes of sounds around her, and eventually Vivian arrived at her maiden’s hall. Only, she didn’t find the solidarity she anticipated, instead the prince stood at the entrance. Outwardly laughing and teasing the maiden. “You’re cute when you try to be serious.” The familiarity in his tone, the smile on his face, Vivian had never seen him react that way to anyone but her, and her heart sank. She could feel the shift in energy.

Their words blurred but Vivian could hear stifled whisper-yells from the maiden. The world around them felt heavy with infatuation and desire. And it was directed at Eloise. How could he do this to her? What had he done, exactly? And why did her chest feel like it was crumbling into a million pieces? She didn’t know how long she had stayed up against that wall. How long her mind stayed thoughtless, how long she recounted that moment in her brain. Warm hands held onto her arms, sturdy and safe, and amber eyes nervous and trembling.

“What the hell was that?” Eloise looked manic, pacing and pulling at her hair, “the prince was just here, did you see what happened?” She was speaking so fast, so agitated Vivian knew that her maiden wasn’t involved the way she initially thought. The silence was overwhelming, the pacing continued just as fast and Eloise was biting at her fingers, too engrossed in her own thoughts to say anything for far too long. Until, “I have to ask you a weird question, Vivie.” A deep breath and the maiden was sitting beside her, “Have,” holding her hands so tightly, “Have the prince and… me ever had moments like that before? Were he and I ever close?”

The look in her eyes. Not curiosity, desperation. As if her answer would mean the end of life itself. “Why are you…?” Of course they hadn’t ever been that close, Eloise didn’t… like Baekhyun’s advancements. She didn’t let him break down any walls, but she couldn’t remember him being so coy and direct, either. Had he always been that way? Vivian was trying to recall the moments when the efforts were made. It was superficial compliments and the simple nickname. Sweet smiles and courtesy he showed everyone. Where had this moment come from? But still, the fear in her maiden’s eyes was odd. As if it was so much bigger than Vivian could even comprehend.

“Vivian, I need you to listen to what I’m about to tell you,” she took a deep breath and steeled her gaze before continuing, “I’m not Eloise. I know what’s going to happen over the next year and you’re going to lose everything.”

@makemedoitlikedis @kawaii--mommy @soobadnoonecanstopher @colognedecigarette @doitsosweet @shewantsmeshesgotme @ira-itzel @nadiecomonadia @mgg-81 @scentlacigarette

#exo #baekhyun #kpop #fanfiction #angst #exo fanfic #unknown thoughts #bbh #prince baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #exo baekhyun #baekhyun story #baekhyun angst #kinda

32 notes · View notes