#he says that there is a mysteriously attractive beauty in darkness that mirrors the series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vminity21 · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 10,958

Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+

Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.

Credits to: @suhdays for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!

The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.

It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"

His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"

"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"

"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"

"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"

"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.

"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"

"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.

There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"

You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.

Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"

"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.

"You don't have to be sorry,"

"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"

"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.

"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"

"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"

"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"

"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"

"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"

"Since how? I-"

"Ask Hoseok,"

"You lost a bet didn't you-"

"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"

"With me around, you will,"

Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"

"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"

"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"

"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"

"You'd be surprised-"

Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"

"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"

The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.

"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

"Anytime."

A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.

"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"

"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"

"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"

"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"

It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"

"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."

"Ta Ta?"

"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"

"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

"I promise."

He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

2 months later....

"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"

"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."

"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"

There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.

"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.

"You are so annoying,"

"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"

You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.

"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.

"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"

"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.

"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"

"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.

"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.

It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"

"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.

"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.

"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"

He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"

"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"

It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.

"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you, too."

"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"

"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

"Her name is Kim Taejun."

158 notes · View notes

woeisme-iamwoe · 3 years

Text

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 1

I went through my entire ao3 history because I’m insane, AND here’s my favorites. (There’s not a lot of aus because I’m not a huge fan of them, and there’s no sad endings. I’m a hopeless romantic leave me alone. There is angst though! Lots)

Beginning with SakuAtsu (I’m a hoe for Atsumu):

Hide and seek, by badreputation (10k. E. canonverse)

It sure is a good thing Atsumu doesn't have a latex allergy

It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

Some Memories, We May Keep, by mika60 (31k. T. canonverse)

This is canon, fight me on it.

The missing panels, the missing games, the missing moments.

The them we never saw.

*Now complete! :)*

every action has an equal and opposite reaction, by akanemnida (10k. T. canonverse)

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study, by neverwere (2k. E. canonverse)

Fucking hilarious, the imagery is absolutely hilarious.

"Marry me, he thinks, as he comes around Sakusa's fingers and all over himself.

This. This is exactly why you don't let strangers or very attractive teammates finger you out of the blue.

Everyone knows that the ass is the shortest way to the heart."

When it comes to sex, Atsumu has rules. Guidelines! SOPs! He swears they work, they've always worked.

Until they don't.

parallax error: angle of inclination, by min_mintobe (10k. T. canonverse)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

autumn ends, but we remain, by wolfsbvne (5k. T. canonverse)

Author says in their ending notes that they're not an ‘author’, but methinks they should write more and pursue that career path because this was wonderful.

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

I left a taste in your mouth, by emso (26k. E. bodyguard au)

Because obviously

Sakusa fixes him with a vague expression of something like distaste. There's a scathing edge to his tone when he speaks. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, not everyone who meets you is instantly dying to get into your pants, Miya."

"Lucky I don't really care right now what 'everyone' wants to do, then." Atsumu swivels his mug around on the tabletop a few times, and then brings it to his mouth to drain the last few dregs of his latte. Over the rim of his mug, he adds casually, "Just you."

Whoa hey Bodyguard Omi, I think Spoiled Rich Kid Tsumu might possibly have a teensy crush on you.

How do you know you're in love?, by spiritscript (12k. T. canonverse)

Pure art

“So, how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Atsumu felt nervous asking this, a slight wiggling in the pit of his stomach, unable to look at the man beside him who rolled his shoulders in an attempt to reset his posture. “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?”

Atsumu thinks he must be in love with Hinata Shouyou and so asks the best person he knows to help him understand his feelings

san'yo expressway, 6:17 pm, by yamabota (13k. T. canonverse)

Of violent forethoughts, and handheld car vacuums.

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional, by DeathBelle (Series, 5 works. T-E. Canonverse)

Honestly, I think this one is kind of famous amongst Sakuatsu readers but I can’t not include it. If I recall correctly, this is the fic that got me into Sakuastu, so thanks, DeathBelle. The characters are portrayed really well (i.e. Sakusa is disgusted and confused, and Atsumu is a little shit). You’ve got a good balance between conversations and descriptive thoughts and all-in-all it’s just a really good read.

Atsumu said into the heavy silence, “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it.”

"Thought about what?" said Sakusa.

Atsumu smiled to himself, smug. "You know."

"No, I don't."

"You know. Of course you’ve thought about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed, Omi-kun. I’m a real catch.”

Sakusa was appalled. "You're disgusting."

"You flatter me. I'm not judging you. I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it, too."

Sakusa shifted, slowly, to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t scowling, but his expression was unreadable. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Atsumu wasn't joking, and he was about to get more than he bargained for.

i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands), by liliapocalypse (7k words. T. canonverse):

Oh, god. This one was so cute. Super fluffy. Loved the metaphors and symbolism. Sometimes you just can’t say things out loud.

When a bad injury shocks the whole V. League, Sakusa finds himself paired with Atsumu for more rigorous assisted stretches before every training. Atsumu then finds himself writing random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe the spiker, forcing Sakusa to reevaluate how his touch aversion became an irresistible yearning for more, and how the boy with the annoying hair somehow brought that hunger to life.

Or, the fic where Atsumu mindlessly writes a confession on Sakusa’s back when he thought Sakusa wasn't paying attention. Sakusa always did.

mortality is found is the flesh of your sins, by novrik (10k. M. canonverse)

This is literally my favorite fic of all time. Not just of Sakuatsu, not even of the Haikyuu fandom. Ever. Favorite fic ever. Listen, I’m an atheist, but this fic took me on a religious experience that I haven't come down from yet. The symbolism had me actually shivering, and I had to put my phone down quite a few times. Just, oh wow, just read it. I’d like to share my favorite line; ‘And if Sakusa is Eve, if he takes a bite, what then? Perhaps, he is a little afraid of the knowledge he will gain’. My god, author, if you ever see this, this is not only a plea for you to continue writing, but also an offer of marriage. Your hand, author?

dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate.

Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?

Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying?

When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

sakuatsu domesticity simulator, by pseudoanalytics (75 words. T. canonverse)

75 words because it's actually a digital art simulator. An interactive fic! How frickin’ cool is that? The art is so beautiful and I love the plotline and ugh, just everything. Please read, or watch, or click around, yes. Good.

Update: artist created another interactive fic and of course it is wonderful. SunaOsa this time! https://newttxt.itch.io/cheesecake honestly just check out @newttxt their work is amazing and I love everything they do.

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

***

(this is the result of letting the sakuatsu brainworms really get to you...)

Pas De Deux, by hatsuna (19k words. T. Ballet/college au)

There's just something about prim, proper ballet Sakusa and human-benign-tumor Atsumu that makes my heart burst. Seriously gorgeous writing style, loved every second. By the same author who wrote ‘liminal spaces’ (which is also just perfect) so that should give you a good idea of the style.

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes. The twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?”

Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

the affective presence of our black and white reruns, by kozumess (19k. E. canonverse)

Beautiful, classic misunderstandings, my heart actually physically ached at that one scene (you’ll know the scene when you come to it). Kiyoomi is so refreshingly relaxed(? Is that the right word to use? We all know Omi never truly relaxes).

but the want, it's always there, constant like the static playing on every television channel, present even when the station disconnects.

cut the conversation, just open your mouth, by meeksoo (E. 16k. canonverse)

Absolutely filthy...BUT WITH FEELINGS! Completely nails the Sakuatsu dynamic, and protective ‘Tsumu? Love it.

Sakusa opens the door. He always does.

They’re teammates first, barely even friends. But they hook up on the regular and it works. It’s simple, easy. But then a fan gets too close, Sakusa reacts, and Atsumu is swept up in how quickly things can get complicated.

As Atsumu palms himself over his briefs, still feeling off, he realizes it’s because he still wants it. Him. Sakusa. Even after already having him earlier.

He should probably feel self-conscious, mildly ashamed even, that he’s panting ‘Omi Omi’ into the dark beneath the steady thrum of the AC unit when Sakusa’s right down the hall, probably good for it if Atsumu ended up back at his door. Instead, he lays there, writhing and sweaty, alone in his hotel room bed thinking about Sakusa and touching himself.

Afterward, as cum begins to cool on his chest, Atsumu really can’t help but face the fact that things may be getting complicated.

the hands that beckon me to come, by Ellieb3an (4k. E. canonverse)

So hot, what the fuck!

The toss, the run, the spike-serve at the end of it all—Sakusa sees it happen in perfect clarity as if time has slowed and his vision narrows to the center where just Miya exists, all powerful muscle and extraordinary skill and that air of confidence.

Sakusa isn’t one of the best receivers in the league for no reason, so his body moves on muscle memory, forearms absorbing the sting of the hit. It’s not enough. But his eyes are still on Miya—on the way his shorts ride up his muscular thighs as he lands, on the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, on the clench of his fist thrust into the air—when the ball ricochets out of bounds.

***

Atsumu stays late at practices to work on his new third serve, even when his frustration with it starts throwing off the rest of his game. Sakusa notices and starts hanging back to secretly watch him from the gym doors. He’s fascinated with Atsumu's determination... and more than a little turned on by it, too.

you're the flame i use (when it gets dark), by starkartifices (55k. M. canonverse. Ongoing)

Everything is the same except the Sakusas are super rich.

“Oh, if you want dear, you could bring a plus one. Though, I doubt you have a partner yet.”

“I do actually.”

“What was that, dear?”

"I do have a partner, I mean."

alt title: crazy rich sakusas

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or; the fine art of emotional recognition), by pseudoanalytics (13k. E. canonverse)

Ah, yes. A Pavloved sex life. A Pavloved LOVE life??

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu oneshots), by wordstruck (5 works. T-E. canonverse)

Works 1-3, I think follow a linear story, whereas the last two don't.

All sakuatsu works are just the angstiest, most miscommunication filled pieces of absolute gold and this one is no exception. Wow. These men are assholes and they bring out the worst in each other, but I’ll be damned if they’re not soulmates.

Collection of SakuAtsu fics. Several fics are loosely set in the same storyverse. Not necessarily directly connected and can all be read as standalones.

#haikyuu!!#sakuatsu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic rec #sakusa kiyoomi #atsumu miya

120 notes · View notes

sakuatsu · 4 years

Note

YELL 2 ME ABT SAKUATSU FIC RECS PLS

oh boy. oh boy do i have much to talk about

here’s a list of my sakuatsu must-reads under the cut! complete with links, word count, ratings, and occasional commentary because i’m incapable of shutting up. this isn’t in any particular order either

(keeping this sfw and organized into canonverse/AUs. a * means i am on my hands and knees begging for you to read this)

i’ll try to update this somewhat regularly :]

most recently updated august 25, 2020!

canonverse:

*your highs and lows (series) by astroeulogy

a post-time skip canonverse series born from these two questions:

1. what if sakusa kiyoomi, known too-blunt jerk, is equally straightforward about his soft, tender feelings?

2. what if miya atsumu, resident big fat jerk who doesn't care if his teammates hate him, is too emotionally stunted to notice when his one of his teammates actually likes him?

this is like the sakuatsu series but it’s blasphemous to not recommend. the first fic in the series is all that you were (4.6k, T). mind the ratings on a few of the fics, but my personal favorite is #3: a masterpiece of domesticity called you have tamed me (5.7k, T). these make me ACHE

*sakuatsu domesticity simulator by pseudoanalytics (T)

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

this fic...this fic...op is literally one of my favorite artists of all time but Did You Know that their writing is also off the charts. what a wonderful use of second person and the pacing is so good. too much skill in one person

*The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets by isaksara (11.4k, M)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

i think this is the fic that got me into sakuatsu in the first place lol i was looking very specifically for msby socmed fics and now here we are. this fic is unbelievably funny

*liminal spaces by hhatsuna (25.9k, T)

Fuck you, Atsumu thinks, pointing at the pixelated Sakusa in the grainy team photo on his bedside table.

It’s easier than you’d think to ignore loving your teammate.

*Better For Us Both by abrandnewheart (15.7k, M)

Where “You already make me the happiest guy alive, babe," gives way to, “I’ve not been happy for a while now.”

Alternatively known as the ‘mug fic’.

yes this is a breakup fic. yes im going to recommend it anyway. breakup fics usually scare me a lot but this one is too good for me to not say anything about. nuanced and delicious. i look at the mug on my desk and feel pain

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (8.4k, T)

You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Koi no Yokan; 恋の予感 by ymra (15.3k, unrated)

Wherein Sakusa dreams of his future selves and discovers a little something along the way.

autumn ends, but we remain by wolfsbvne (5.3k, T)

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

your fingertips, branding irons by Ceryna (5.8k, T)

Between the accidental touches he's reconciled, the deliberate ones he's endured, and, from those he's built years of trust with, obliged– Kiyoomi has never wanted to let someone indulge.

Never, until Atsumu.

take what’s yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (5.9k, T)

atsumu falls in love four times in his life

(or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

every action has an equal and opposite reaction by akanemnida (10.4k, T)

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

*where i want to be by tookumade (8.8k, G)

In the time they’ve been teammates at the MSBY Black Jackals, Sakusa has never been to Atsumu’s place, and Atsumu has only been to Sakusa’s a few times. There’s an unspoken understanding here: that Atsumu knows him well enough to know that nobody’s house or apartment would ever really meet his ridiculously high standards, and he is most comfortable in the home he’s made for himself.

That, and, Atsumu being over at Sakusa’s means that he has to host him and do the cleaning afterwards, while Atsumu can just flit off back to his own place. So. There’s that.

Tonight. Tonight is not business as usual. Tonight is not familiar.

*san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (8.1k, T)

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

parallax error: angle of inclination by min_mintobe (10.8k, T)

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

four leaf clover by vicari_us (5.9k, T)

Once, Ushijima claimed that they ‘got lucky’. If properly honed, their body types could become near invincible weapons.

However, unlike Ushijima, Kiyoomi’s weapon required a bit more care over the years to reach the condition it had become. He was born iron, not yet forged into steel.

Exploring what it might have taken to turn a genetic mistake into an athletic miracle.

*the 28 postcards you left me by wheelspokes (8.3k, T)

Atsumu takes texting your ex to a new level by sending Sakusa postcards in Animal Crossing instead.

such a unique premise & this is so beautifully structured. stunning flow and who knew animal crossing could convey so much longing...

AUs:

Pas De Deux by hhatsuna (dancer!sakusa au: 19.0k, T)

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes, and the twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?” Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

*my love, take your time by bastigod (archaeologist!sakusa au: 9.0k, T)

There was something sublime about wandering around an empty museum. Nothing could compare to the sound of his shoes clacking against the marble floor, the morning sunlight gently streaming through the lofty windows and the peaceful solitude of ancient stone kings overseeing their silent kingdoms.

A day in the life of Doctor Kiyoomi Sakusa, Archaeologist.

i’ve literally been thinking about this fic every day since it came out. you will not find a story like this anywhere else, i guarantee you. what a clear labor of love this fic is it’s truly something so special

three roses and a smile by strawberrycitrus (surgeon!sakusa & microbiologist!atsumu au: 19.7k, T)

“I just got this job, I’m not givin’ it up for some moral boost ‘cause I actually need to pay my rent, ya insensitive -” Atsumu waves his hands around, trying and failing to come up with the right word to convey the amount of injustice that this gaunt motherfucker has brought into his relatively simple life thus far.

“If you can’t pay your rent, go get a job at the McDonald’s over by 8th Street,” Sakusa growls, “it’ll pay more than your researcher position.”

If you even attempt assault on a coworker, forget teaching about cells - you’ll fucking be in one, Atsumu.

*Dance of the Parallax by astroeulogy (ogre spirit!sakusa au: 6.7k, T)

For the last twenty years, Atsumu’s done all that he can to break his betrothal to the ogre spirit Sakusa. If he can just make it through one more night, he’ll be free.

honestly, just read everything by astroeulogy. i’m recommending this fic in particular because it has such an ethereal voice to it. magical

across oceans, across centuries by starstrikes (pacific rim au: 20.0k, T)

Six days ago, Osamu died and left Atsumu with this: Atsumu, you have to—

(Namikira rises with the tides and rips Osamu and Vulpis Empress away in one fell swoop. Six days later, Atsumu wakes up alone in a hospital bed and learns how to swim.)

you don’t actually need to know pacrim to appreciate this. a wonderful exploration of grief and recovery. also it’s exactly 20k words which is both satisfying and terrifying

*Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (ice skating/dancing au: 20.8k, T)

"Your partner doesn't need to hold anyone's hand other than yours," Sakusa's father crouches, "And you can wear gloves."

Sakusa ponders. He hears the other skaters of rink two whiz past as they launch themselves into lifts.

"Alright," He looks up from the ice, not knowing how he'll dedicate the next couple of decades to this sport, this partnership, this boy.

what a stunning fic. a beautiful progression of sakusa & atsumu’s relationship, rife with references to real skating programs, beautifully written and structured. so full of longing i’m in mild physical pain

#if anyone else has recs feel free to drop them in the replies mwah #sakuatsu fic is SO high quality you can literally just look at the tag and blindly press and find something stunning #these are just my personal favorites #basically just my ao3 bookmarks and then some #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #sakuatsu fic #haikyuu fic #ask #reynegades #thank you for asking.....ive been dying to make a fic rec post i just needed a push lol #fic

333 notes · View notes

aquilaofarkham · 4 years

Link

Much like his infamous father, the aesthetic of Alucard has changed tremendously since Castlevania’s start in the 1980s—yet certain things about him never change at all. He began as the mirror image of Dracula; a hark back to the days of masculine Hammer Horror films, Christopher Lee, and Bela Lugosi. Then his image changed dramatically into the androgynous gothic aristocrat most people know him as today. This essay will examine Alucard’s design, the certain artistic and social trends which might have influenced it, and how it has evolved into what it is now.

☽ Read the full piece here or click the read more for the text only version ☽

INTRODUCTION

Published in 2017, Carol Dyhouse’s Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire examines how certain cultural trends can influence what women may find attractive or stimulating in a male character. By using popular archetypes such as the Prince Charming, the bad boy, and the tall dark handsome stranger, Dyhouse seeks to explain why these particular men appeal to the largest demographic beyond mere superfluous infatuation. In one chapter titled “Dark Princes, Foreign Powers: Desert Lovers, Outsiders, and Vampires”, she touches upon the fascination most audiences have with moody and darkly seductive vampires. Dyhouse exposits that the reason for this fascination is the inherent dangerous allure of taming someone—or something—so dominating and masculine, perhaps even evil, yet hides their supposed sensitivity behind a Byronic demeanour.

This is simply one example of how the general depiction of vampires in mainstream media has evolved over time. Because the concept itself is as old as the folklore and superstitions it originates from, thus varying from culture to culture, there is no right or wrong way to represent a vampire, desirable or not. The Caribbean Soucouyant is described as a beautiful woman who sheds her skin at night and enters her victims’ bedrooms disguised as an aura of light before consuming their blood. In Ancient Roman mythology there are tales of the Strix, an owl-like creature that comes out at night to drink human blood until it can take no more. Even the Chupacabra, a popular cryptid supposedly first spotted in Puerto Rico, has been referred to as being vampiric because of the way it sucks blood out of goats, leaving behind a dried up corpse.

However, it is a rare thing to find any of these vampires in popular media. Instead, most modern audiences are shown Dyhouse’s vampire: the brooding, masculine alpha male in both appearance and personality. A viewer may wish to be with that character, or they might wish to become just like that character.

This sort of shift in regards to creating the “ideal” vampire is most evident in how the image of Dracula has been adapted, interpreted, and revamped in order to keep up with changing trends. In Bram Stoker’s original 1897 novel of the same name, Dracula is presented as the ultimate evil; an ancient, almost grotesque devil that ensnares the most unsuspecting victims and slowly corrupts their innocence until they are either subservient to him (Renfield, the three brides) or lost to their own bloodlust (Lucy Westenra). In the end, he can only be defeated through the joined actions of a steadfast if not ragtag group of self-proclaimed vampire hunters that includes a professor, a nobleman, a doctor, and a cowboy. His monstrousness in following adaptations remains, but it is often undercut by attempts to give his character far more pathos than the original source material presents him with. Dracula has become everything: a monster, a lover, a warrior, a lonely soul searching for companionship, a conquerer, a comedian, and of course, the final boss of a thirty-year-old video game franchise.

Which brings us to the topic of this essay; not Dracula per say, but his son. Even if someone has never played a single instalment of Castlevania or watched the ongoing animated Netflix series, it is still most likely that they have heard of or seen the character of Alucard through cultural osmosis thanks to social media sites such as Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, and the like. Over the thirty-plus years in which Castlevania has remained within the public’s consciousness, Alucard has become one of the most popular characters of the franchise, if not the most popular. Since his debut as a leading man in the hit game Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, he has taken his place beside other protagonists like Simon Belmont, a character who was arguably the face of Castlevania before 1997, the year in which Symphony of the Night was released. Alucard is an iconic component of the series and thanks in part to the mainstream online streaming service Netflix, he is now more present in the public eye than ever before whether through official marketing strategies or fanworks.

It is easy to see why. Alucard’s backstory and current struggles are quite similar to the defining characteristics of the Byronic hero. Being the son of the human doctor Lisa Țepeș, a symbol of goodness and martyrdom in all adaptations, and the lord of all vampires Dracula, Alucard (also referred to by his birth name Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș) feels constantly torn between the two halves of himself. He maintains his moralistic values towards protecting humanity, despite being forced to make hard decisions, and despite parts of humanity not being kind to him in turn, yet is always tempted by his more monstrous inheritance. The idea of a hero who carries a dark burden while aspiring towards nobility is something that appeals to many audiences. We relate to their struggles, cheer for them when they triumph, and share their pain when they fail. Alucard (as most casual viewers see him) is the very personification of the Carol Dyhouse vampire: mysterious, melancholic, dominating, yet sensitive and striving for compassion. Perceived as a supposed “bad boy” on the surface by people who take him at face value, yet in reality is anything but.

Then there is Alucard’s appearance, an element that is intrinsically tied to how he has been portrayed over the decades and the focus of this essay. Much like his infamous father, the aesthetic of Alucard has changed tremendously since Castlevania’s start in the 1980s—yet certain things about him never change at all. He began as the mirror image of Dracula; a hark back to the days of masculine Hammer Horror films, Christopher Lee, and Bela Lugosi. Then his image changed dramatically into the androgynous gothic aristocrat most people know him as today. This essay will examine Alucard’s design, the certain artistic and social trends which might have influenced it, and how it has evolved into what it is now. Parts will include theoretical, analytical, and hypothetical stances, but it’s overall purpose is to be merely observational.

What is Castlevania?

We start this examination at the most obvious place, with the most obvious question. Like all franchises, Castlevania has had its peaks, low points, and dry spells. Developed by Konami and directed by Hitoshi Akamatsu, the first instalment was released in 1986 then distributed in North America for the Nintendo Entertainment System the following year. Its pixelated gameplay consists of jumping from platform to platform and fighting enemies across eighteen stages all to reach the final boss, Dracula himself. Much like the gameplay, the story of Castlevania is simple. You play as Simon Belmont; a legendary vampire hunter and the only one who can defeat Dracula. His arsenal includes holy water, axes, and throwing daggers among many others, but his most important weapon is a consecrated whip known as the vampire killer, another iconic staple of the Castlevania image.

Due to positive reception from critics and the public alike, Castlevania joined other titles including Super Mario Bros., The Legend of Zelda, and Mega Man as one of the most defining video games of the 1980s. As for the series itself, Castlevania started the first era known by many fans and aficionados as the “Classicvania” phase, which continued until the late 1990s. It was then followed by the “Metroidvania” era, the “3-D Vania” era during the early to mid 2000s, an reboot phase during the early 2010s, and finally a renaissance or “revival” age where a sudden boom in new or re-released Castlevania content helped boost interest and popularity in the franchise. Each of these eras detail how the games changed in terms of gameplay, design, and storytelling. The following timeline gives a general overview of the different phases along with their corresponding dates and instalments.

Classicvania refers to Castlevania games that maintain the original’s simplicity in gameplay, basic storytelling, and pixelated design. In other words, working within the console limitations of the time. They are usually side-scrolling platformers with an emphasis on finding hidden objects and defeating a variety of smaller enemies until the player faces off against the penultimate boss. Following games like Castlevania 2: Simon’s Quest and Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse were more ambitious than their predecessor as they both introduced new story elements that offered multiple endings and branching pathways. In Dracula’s Curse, there are four playable characters each with their own unique gameplay. However, the most basic plot of the first game is present within both of these titles . Namely, find Dracula and kill Dracula. Like with The Legend of Zelda’s Link facing off against Ganon or Mario fighting Bowser, the quest to destroy Dracula is the most fundamental aspect to Castlevania. Nearly every game had to end with his defeat. In terms of gameplay, it was all about the journey to Dracula’s castle.

As video games grew more and more complex leading into the 1990s, Castlevania’s tried and true formula began to mature as well. The series took a drastic turn with the 1997 release of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, a game which started the Metroidvania phase. This not only refers to the stylistic and gameplay changes of the franchise itself, but also refers to an entire subgenre of video games. Combining key components from Castlevania and Nintendo’s popular science fiction action series Metroid, Metroidvania games emphasize non-linear exploration and more traditional RPG elements including a massive array of collectable weapons, power-ups, character statistics, and armor. Symphony of the Night pioneered this trend while later titles like Castlevania: Circle of the Moon, Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance and Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow solidified it. Nowadays, Metroidvanias are common amongst independent developers while garnering critical praise. Hollow Knight, Blasphemous, and Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night are just a few examples of modern Metroidvanias that use the formula to create familiar yet still distinct gaming experiences.

Then came the early to mid 2000s and many video games were perfecting the use of 3-D modelling, free control over the camera, and detailed environments. Similar to what other long-running video game franchises were doing at the time, Castlevania began experimenting with 3-D in 1999 with Castlevania 64 and Castlevania: Legacy of Darkness, both developed for the Nintendo 64 console. 64 received moderately positive reviews while the reception for its companion was far more mixed, though with Nintendo 64’s discontinuation in 2002, both games have unfortunately fallen into obscurity.

A year later, Castlevania returned to 3-D with Castlevania: Lament of Innocence for the Playstation 2. This marked Koji Igarashi’s first foray into 3-D as well as the series’ first ever M-rated instalment. While not the most sophisticated or complex 3-D Vania (or one that manages to hold up over time in terms of graphics), Lament of Innocence was a considerable improvement over 64 and Legacy of Darkness. Other 3-D Vania titles include Castlevania: Curse of Darkness, Castlevania: Judgment, and Castlevania: The Dracula X Chronicles for the PSP, a remake of the Classicvania game Castlevania: Rondo of Blood which merged 3-D models, environments, and traditional platforming mechanics emblematic of early Castlevania. It is important to note that during this particular era, there were outliers to the changing formula that included Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin and Castlevania: Order of Ecclesia, both games which added to the Metroidvania genre.

Despite many of the aforementioned games becoming cult classics and fan favourites, this was an era in which Castlevania struggled to maintain its relevance, confused by its own identity according to most critics. Attempts to try something original usually fell flat or failed to resonate with audiences and certain callbacks to what worked in the past were met with indifference.

By the 2010s, the Castlevania brand changed yet again and stirred even more division amongst critics, fans, and casual players. This was not necessarily a dark age for the franchise but it was a strange age; the black sheep of Castlevania. In 2010, Konami released Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, a complete reboot of the series with new gameplay, new characters, and new lore unrelated to previous instalments. The few elements tying it to classic Castlevania games were recurring enemies, platforming, and the return of the iconic whip used as both a weapon and another means of getting from one area to another. Other gameplay features included puzzle-solving, exploration, and hack-and-slash combat. But what makes Lords of Shadow so divisive amongst fans is its story. The player follows Gabriel Belmont, a holy warrior on a quest to save his deceased wife’s soul from Limbo. From that basic plot point, the storyline diverges immensely from previous Castlevania titles, becoming more and more complicated until Gabriel makes the ultimate sacrifice and turns into the very monster that haunted other Belmont heroes for centuries: Dracula. While a dark plot twist and a far cry from the hopeful endings of past games, the concept of a more tortured and reluctant Dracula who was once the hero had already been introduced in older Dracula adaptations (the Francis Ford Coppola directed Dracula being a major example of this trend in media).

Despite strong opinions on how much the story of Lords of Shadow diverged from the original timeline, it was positively received by critics, garnering an overall score of 85 on Metacritic. This prompted Konami to continue with the release of Castlevania: Lords of Shadow—Mirror of Fate and Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2. Mirror of Fate returned to the series’ platforming and side-scrolling roots with stylized 3-D models and cutscenes. It received mixed reviews, as did its successor Lords of Shadow 2. While Mirror of Fate felt more like a classic stand-alone Castlevania with Dracula back as its main antagonist, the return of Simon Belmont, and the inclusion of Alucard, Lords of Shadow 2 carried over plot elements from its two predecessors along with new additions, turning an already complicated story into something more contrived.

Finally, there came a much needed revival phase for the franchise. Netflix’s adaptation of Castlevania animated by Powerhouse Animation Studios based in Austen, Texas and directed by Samuel Deats and co-directed by Adam Deats aired its first season during July 2017 with four episodes. Season two aired in October 2018 with eight episodes followed by a ten episode third season in March 2020. Season four was announced by Netflix three weeks after the release of season three. The show combines traditional western 2-D animation with elements from Japanese anime and is a loose adaptation of Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse combined with plot details from Castlevania: Curse of Darkness, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and original story concepts. But the influx of new Castlevania content did not stop with the show. Before the release of season two, Nintendo announced that classic protagonists Simon Belmont and Richter Belmont would join the ever-growing roster of playable characters in their hit fighting game Super Smash Bros. Ultimate. With their addition also came the inclusion of iconic Castlevania environments, music, weapons, and supporting characters like Dracula and Alucard.

During the year-long gap between seasons two and three of the Netflix show, Konami released Castlevania: Grimoire of Souls, a side-scrolling platformer and gacha game for mobile devices. The appeal of Grimoire of Souls is the combination of popular Castlevania characters each from a different game in the series interacting with one another along with a near endless supply of collectable weapons, outfits, power-ups, and armor accompanied by new art. Another ongoing endeavor by Konami in partnership with Sony to bring collective awareness back to one of their flagship titles is the re-releasing of past Castlevania games. This began with Castlevania: Requiem, in which buyers received both Symphony of the Night and Rondo of Blood for the Playstation 4 in 2018. This was followed the next year with the Castlevania Anniversary Collection, a bundle that included a number of Classicvania titles for the Playstation 4, Xbox One, Steam, and Nintendo Switch.

Like Dracula, the Belmonts, and the vampire killer, one other element tying these five eras together is the presence of Alucard and his various forms in each one.

Masculinity in 1980s Media

When it comes to media and various forms of the liberal arts be it entertainment, fashion, music, etc., we are currently in the middle of a phenomenon known as the thirty year cycle. Patrick Metzgar of The Patterning describes this trend as a pop cultural pattern that is, in his words, “forever obsessed with a nostalgia pendulum that regularly resurfaces things from 30 years ago”. Nowadays, media seems to be fixated with a romanticized view of the 1980s from bold and flashy fashion trends, to current music that relies on the use of synthesizers, to of course visual mass media that capitalizes on pop culture icons of the 80s. This can refer to remakes, reboots, and sequels; the first cinematic chapter of Stephen King’s IT, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, and both Ghostbusters remakes are prime examples—but the thirty year cycle can also include original media that is heavily influenced or oversaturated with nostalgia. Netflix’s blockbuster series Stranger Things is this pattern’s biggest and most overt product.

To further explain how the thirty year cycle works with another example, Star Wars began as a nostalgia trip and emulation of vintage science fiction serials from the 1950s and 60s, the most prominent influence being Flash Gordon. This comparison is partially due to George Lucas’ original attempts to license the Flash Gordon brand before using it as prime inspiration for Star Wars: A New Hope and subsequent sequels. After Lucas sold his production company Lucasfilms to Disney, three more Star Wars films were released, borrowing many aesthetic and story elements from Lucas’ original trilogy while becoming emulations of nostalgia themselves.

The current influx of Castlevania content could be emblematic of this very same pattern in visual media, being an 80s property itself, but what do we actually remember from the 1980s? Thanks to the thirty year cycle, the general public definitely acknowledges and enjoys all the fun things about the decade. Movie theatres were dominated by the teen flicks of John Hughes, the fantasy genre found a comeback due to the resurgence of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic works along with the tabletop role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons, and people were dancing their worries away to the songs of Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, and Madonna. Then there were the things that most properties taking part in the thirty year cycle choose to ignore or gloss over, with some exceptions. The rise of child disappearances, prompting the term “stranger danger”, the continuation of satanic panic from the 70s which caused the shutdown and incarceration of hundreds of innocent caretakers, and the deaths of thousands due to President Reagan’s homophobia, conservatism, and inability to act upon the AIDS crisis.

The 1980s also saw a shift in masculinity and how it was represented towards the public whether through advertising, television, cinema, or music. In M.D. Kibby’s essay Real Men: Representations of Masculinity in 80s Cinema, he reveals that “television columns in the popular press argued that viewers were tired of liberated heroes and longed for the return of the macho leading man” (Kibby, 21). Yet there seemed to be a certain “splitness” to the masculine traits found within fictional characters and public personas; something that tried to deconstruct hyper-masculinity while also reviling in it, particularly when it came to white, cisgendered men. Wendy Somerson further describes this dichotomy: “The white male subject is split. On one hand, he takes up the feminized personality of the victim, but on the other hand, he enacts fantasies of hypermasculinized heroism” (Somerson, 143). Somerson explains how the media played up this juxtaposition of “soft masculinity”, where men are portrayed as victimized, helpless, and childlike. In other words, “soft men who represent a reaction against the traditional sexist ‘Fifties man’ and lack a strong male role model” (Somerson, 143). A sort of self-flagellation or masochism in response to the toxic and patriarchal gender roles of three decades previous. Yet this softening of male representation was automatically seen as traditionally “feminine” and femininity almost always equated to childlike weakness. Then in western media, there came the advent of male madness and the fetishization of violent men. Films like Scarface, Die Hard, and any of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s filmography helped to solidify the wide appeal of these hyper-masculine and “men out of control” tropes which were preceded by Martin Scorcese’s critical and cult favourite Taxi Driver.

There were exceptions to this rule; or at the very least attempted exceptions that only managed to do more harm to the concept of a feminized man while also doubling down on the standard tropes of the decade. One shallow example of this balancing act between femininity and masculinity in 80s western media was the hit crime show Miami Vice and Sonny, a character who is entirely defined by his image. In Kibby’s words, “he is a beautiful consumer image, a position usually reserved for women; and he is in continual conflict with work, that which fundamentally defines him as a man” (Kibby, 21). Therein lies the problematic elements of this characterization. Sonny’s hyper-masculine traits of violence and emotionlessness serve as a reaffirmation of his manufactured maleness towards the audience.

Returning to the subject of Schwarzenegger, his influence on 80s media that continued well into the 90s ties directly to how fantasy evolved during this decade while also drawing upon inspirations from earlier trends. The most notable example is his portrayal of Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian in the 1982 film directed by John Milius. Already a classic character from 1930s serials and later comic strips, the movie (while polarizing amongst critics who described it as a “psychopathic Star Wars, stupid and stupefying”) brought the iconic image of a muscle-bound warrior wielding a sword as half-naked women fawn at his feet back into the collective consciousness of many fantasy fans. The character and world of Conan romanticizes the use of violence, strength, and pure might in order to achieve victory. This aesthetic of hyper-masculinity, violence, and sexuality in fantasy art was arguably perfected by the works of Frank Frazetta, a frequent artist for Conan properties. The early Castlevania games drew inspiration from this exact aesthetic for its leading hero Simon Belmont and directly appropriated one of Frazetta’s pieces for the cover of the first game.

Hammer Horror & Gender

Conan the Barbarian, Frank Frazetta, and similar fantasy icons were just a few influences on the overall feel of 80s Castlevania. Its other major influence harks back to a much earlier and far more gothic trend in media. Castlevania director Hitoshi Akamatsu stated that while the first game was in development, they were inspired by earlier cinematic horror trends and “wanted players to feel like they were in a classic horror movie”. This specific influence forms the very backbone of the Castlevania image. Namely: gothic castles, an atmosphere of constant uncanny dread, and a range of colourful enemies from Frankenstein’s Monster, the Mummy, to of course Dracula. The massive popularity and recognizability of these three characters can be credited to the classic Universal Pictures’ monster movies of the 1930s, but there was another film studio that put its own spin on Dracula and served as another source of inspiration for future Castlevania properties.

The London-based film company Hammer Film Productions was established in 1934 then quickly filed bankruptcy a mere three years later after their films failed to earn back their budget through ticket sales. What saved them was the horror genre itself as their first official title under the ‘Hammer Horror’ brand The Curse of Frankenstein starring Hammer regular Peter Cushing was released in 1957 to enormous profit in both Britain and overseas. With one successful adaptation of a horror legend under their belt, Hammer’s next venture seemed obvious. Dracula (also known by its retitle Horror of Dracula) followed hot off the heels of Frankenstein and once again starred Peter Cushing as Professor Abraham Van Helsing, a much younger and more dashing version of his literary counterpart. Helsing faces off against the titular fanged villain, played by Christopher Lee, whose portrayal of Dracula became the face of Hammer Horror for decades to come.

Horror of Dracula spawned eight sequels spanning across the 60s and 70s, each dealing with the resurrection or convoluted return of the Prince of Darkness (sound familiar?) Yet these were not the same gothic films pioneered by Universal Studios with fog machines, high melodrama, and disturbingly quiet atmosphere. Christopher Lee’s Dracula and Bela Lugosi’s Dracula are two entirely separate beasts. While nearly identical in design (slicked back hair, long flowing black cape, and a dignified, regal demeanor), Lugosi is subtle, using only his piercing stare as a means of intimidation and power—in the 1930s, smaller details meant bigger scares. For Hammer Horror, when it comes time to show Dracula’s true nature, Lee bares his blood-covered fangs and acts like an animal coveting their prey. Hammer’s overall approach to horror involved bigger production sets, low-cut nightgowns, and bright red blood that contrasted against the muted, desaturated look of each film. And much like the media of 1980, when it came to their characters, the Dracula films fell back on what was expected by society to be ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ while also making slight commentary on those very preconceived traits.

The main theme surrounding each male cast in these films is endangered male authority. Dracula and Van Helsing are without a doubt the most powerful, domineering characters in the story, particularly Helsing. As author Peter Hutchings describes in his book Hammer & Beyond: The British Horror Film, “the figure of the (male) vampire hunter is always one of authority, certainty, and stability (...) he is the only one with enough logical sense to know how to defeat the ultimate evil, thus saving the female characters and weaker male characters from being further victimized” (Hutchings, 124). The key definition here is ‘weaker male characters’. Hammer’s Dracula explores the absolute power of male authority in, yet it also reveals how easily this authority can be weakened. This is shown through the characters of Jonathan Harker and Arthur Holmwood, who differ slightly from how they are portrayed in Stoker’s novel. While Dracula does weaken them both, they manage to join Helsing and defeat the monster through cooperation and teamwork. In fact, it is Harker who lands one of the final killing strikes against Dracula. However, the Jonathan Harker of Hammer’s Dracula is transformed into a vampire against his will and disposed of before the finale. His death, in the words of Hutchings, “underlines the way in which throughout the film masculinity is seen (...) as arrested, in a permanently weakened state” (Hutchings, 117).

This theme of weakened authority extends to Holmwood in a more obvious and unsettling manner. In another deviation from the source material, Lucy Westenra, best friend to Mina Murray and fiancé to Arthur Holmwood, is now Holmwood’s sister and Harker’s fiancé. Lucy’s story still plays out more or less the same way it did in the novel; Dracula routinely drains her of blood until she becomes a vampire, asserting his dominance both physically and mentally. This according to Hutchings is the entirety of Dracula’s plan; a project “to restore male authority over women by taking the latter away from the weak men, establishing himself as the immortal, sole patriarch” (Hutchings, 119). Meanwhile, it is Helsing’s mission to protect men like Arthur Holmwood, yet seems only concerned with establishing his own dominance and does nothing to reestablish Holmwood’s masculinity or authority. Due to the damage done by Dracula and the failings of Helsing, Holmwood never regains this authority, even towards the end when he is forced to murder his own sister. His reaction goes as follows: “as she is staked he clutches his chest, his identification with her at this moment, when she is restored to a passivity which is conventionally feminine, suggesting a femininity within him which the film equates with weakness” (Hutchings, 117).

So Van Helsing succeeds in his mission to defeat his ultimate rival, but Dracula is victorious in his own right. With Jonathan Harker gone, Lucy Holmwood dead, and Arthur Holmwood further emasculated, he succeeds in breaking down previous male power structures while putting himself in their place as the all-powerful, all-dominant male presence. This is the very formula in which early Hammer Dracula films were built upon; “with vampire and vampire hunter mutually defining an endangered male authority, and the woman functioning in part as the site of their struggle (...) forged within and responded to British social reality of the middle and late 1950s” (Hutchings, 123).

Alucard c. 1989

As for Castlevania’s Dracula, his earliest design takes more from Christopher Lee’s portrayal than from Bela Lugosi or Bram Stoker’s original vision. His appearance on the first ever box art bears a striking resemblance to one of the most famous stills from Horror of Dracula. Even in pixelated form, Dracula’s imposing model is more characteristic of Christopher Lee than Bela Lugosi.

Being his son, it would make logical sense for the first appearance of Alucard in Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse to resemble his father. His 1989 design carries over everything from the slick dark hair, sharp claws, and shapeless long cloak but adds a certain juvenile element—or rather, a more human element. This makes sense in the context of the game’s plot. Despite being the third title, Dracula’s Curse acts as the starting point to the Castlevania timeline (before it was replaced by Castlevania: Legends in 1997, which was then retconned and also replaced by Castlevania: Lament of Innocence in 2003 as the definitive prequel of the series). Set nearly two centuries before Simon Belmont’s time, Dracula’s Curse follows Simon’s ancestor Trevor Belmont as he is called to action by the church to defeat Dracula once he begins a reign of terror across Wallachia, now known as modern day Romania. It is a reluctant decision by the church, since the Belmont family has been exiled due to fear and superstition surrounding their supposed inhuman powers.

This is one example of how despite the current technological limitations, later Castlevania games were able to add more in-depth story elements little by little beyond “find Dracula, kill Dracula”. This began as early as Castlevania 2: Simon’s Quest by giving Simon a much stronger motivation in his mission and the inclusion of multiple endings. The improvements made throughout the Classicvania era were relatively small while further character and story complexities remained either limited or unexplored, but they were improvements nonetheless.

Another example of this slight progress in storytelling was Castlevania 3’s introduction of multiple playable characters each with a unique backstory of their own. The supporting cast includes Sypha Belnades, a powerful sorceress disguised as a humble monk who meets Trevor after he saves her from being frozen in stone by a cyclops, and Grant Danasty, a pirate who fell under Dracula’s influence before Trevor helped him break free from his curse. Then there is of course Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș who changed his name to Alucard, the opposite of Dracula, as a symbol of rebellion against his tyrannical father. Yet Castlevania was not the first to conceptualize the very character of Alucard; someone who is the son of Dracula and whose name is quite literally the backwards spelling of his fathers’. That idea started with Universal’s 1943 venture Son of Dracula, a sequel to the 1931 classic that unfortunately failed to match the original’s effective atmosphere, scares, and story. In it, Alucard is undoubtedly the villain whereas in Dracula’s Curse, he is one of the heroes. Moral and noble, able to sway Trevor Belmont’s preconceptions of vampiric creatures, and with an odd sympathy for the monster that is his father. Alucard even goes as far as to force himself into an eternal slumber after the defeat of Dracula in order to “purge the world of his own cursed bloodline” (the reason given by Castlevania: Symphony of the Night’s opening narration).

When it comes to design, Castlevania’s Alucard does the curious job of fitting in with the franchises’ established aesthetic yet at the same time, he manages to stand out the most—in fact, all the main characters do. Everyone from Trevor, Sypha, to Grant all look as though they belong in different stories from different genres. Grant’s design is more typical of the classic pirate image one would find in old illustrated editions of Robinson Crusoe’s Treasure Island or in a classic swashbuckler like 1935’s Captain Blood starring Errol Flynn. Sypha might look more at home in a Dungeons & Dragons campaign or an early Legend of Zelda title with a large hood obscuring her facial features, oversized blue robes, and a magical staff all of which are commonplace for a fantasy mage of the 1980s. Trevor’s design is nearly identical to Simon’s right down to the whip, long hair, and barbarian-esque attire which, as mentioned previously, was taken directly from Conan the Barbarian.

Judging Alucard solely from official character art ranging from posters to other promotional materials, he seems to be the only one who belongs in the gothic horror atmosphere of Dracula’s Curse. As the physically largest and most supernaturally natured of the main cast, he is in almost every way a copy of his father—a young Christopher Lee’s Dracula complete with fangs and cape. Yet his path as a hero within the game’s narrative along with smaller, near missable details in his design (his ingame magenta cape, the styling of his hair in certain official art, and the loose-fitting cravat around his neck) further separates him from the absolute evil and domination that is Dracula. Alucard is a rebel and an outsider, just like Trevor, Sypha, and Grant. In a way, they mirror the same vampire killing troupe from Bram Stoker’s novel; a group of people all from different facets of life who come together to defeat a common foe.

The son of Dracula also shares similar traits with Hammer’s Van Helsing. Same as the Belmonts (who as vampire hunters are exactly like Helsing in everything except name), Alucard is portrayed as one of the few remaining beacons of masculinity with enough strength, skill, and logical sense who can defeat Dracula, another symbol of patriarchal power. With Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse, we begin to see Alucard’s dual nature in aesthetics that is automatically tied to his characterization; a balance that many Byronic heroes try to strike between masculine domination and moralistic sensitivity and goodness that is often misconstrued as weakly feminine. For now though, especially in appearance, Alucard’s persona takes more from the trends that influenced his allies (namely Trevor and Simon Belmont) and his enemy (Dracula). This of course would change drastically alongside the Castlevania franchise itself come the 1990s.

Gender Expression & The 1990s Goth Scene

When a person sees or hears the word “gothic”, it conjures up a very specific mental image—dark and stormy nights spent inside an extravagant castle that is host to either a dashing vampire with a thirst for blood, vengeful ghosts of the past come to haunt some unfortunate living soul, or a mad scientist determined to cheat death and bring life to a corpse sewn from various body parts. In other words, a scenario that would be the focus of some Halloween television special or a daring novel from the mid to late Victorian era. Gothicism has had its place in artistic and cultural circles long before the likes of Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker, and even before Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto, a late 18th century novel that arguably started the gothic horror subgenre.

The term itself originated in 17th century Sweden as a descriptor of the national romanticism concerning the North Germanic Goths, a tribe which occupied much of Medieval Götaland. It was a period of historical revisionism in which the Goths and other Viking tribes were depicted as heroic and heavily romanticised. Yet more than ever before, gothicism is now associated with a highly specific (and in many ways personal) form of artistic and gender expression. It started with the golden age of gothic Medieval architecture that had its revival multiple centuries later during the Victorian era, then morphed into one of the darkest if not melodramatic literary movements, and finally grew a new identity throughout the 1990s. For this portion, we will focus on the gothic aesthetic as it pertains to fashion and music.

Arguably, the advent of the modern goth subculture as it is known nowadays began with the 1979 song “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” from Northampton’s own rock troupe Bauhaus. The overall aesthetic of the song, accompanying live performances, and the band itself helped shaped the main themes of current gothicism including, but not limited to, “macabre funeral musical tone and tempo, to lyrical references to the undead, to deep voiced eerie vocals, to a dark twisted form of androgyny in the appearance of the band and most of its following” (Hodkinson, 35-64). This emphasis on physical androgyny in a genre that was predominantly focused on depictions of undeniable masculinity was especially important to the 80s and 90s goth scene. Bauhaus opened the gates in which other goth and post-punk bands gained popularity outside of underground venues, including The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Southern Death Cult. Much like Bauhaus’ “twisted form of androgyny”, these other bands pioneered a romantic yet darkly feminine aesthetic which was then embraced by their fans. It wasn’t until the producer of Joy Division Tony Wilson along with members from Southern Death Cult and U.K. Decay mentioned the word “goth” in passing that this growing musical and aesthetic subculture finally had a name for itself.

The goth movement of the 1990s became an interesting mesh of nonconformity and individual expression while also emphasising the need for a mutual connection through shared interests and similar aesthetics. Unique social outsiders looking for a sense of community and belonging—not unlike Stoker’s vampire hunting troupe or the main cast of Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse. Paul Hodkinson author of Goth: Identity, Style and Subculture describes the ways in which goths were able to expand their social networking while making the subculture their own. In order to gain further respect and recognition within the community, “they usually sought to select their own individual concoction from the range of acceptable artefacts and themes and also to make subtle additions and adaptations from beyond the established stylistic boundaries” (Hodkinson, 35-64). This was one of the ways in which the goth subculture was able to grow and evolve while maintaining some typical aesthetics. Those aesthetics that had already become gothic staples as far back as classic Victorian horror included crucifixes, bats, and vampires; all of which were presented by young modern goths, as Hodkinson puts it, “sometimes in a tongue-in-cheek self-conscious manner, sometimes not” (Hodkinson, 35-64).

The vampire, as it appeared in visual mass media of the time, was also instrumental to the 90s gothic scene, reinforcing certain physical identifiers such as long dark hair, pale make-up, and sometimes blackened sunglasses. This was especially popular amongst male goths who embodied traditional gothic traits like dark femininity and androgyny, which had already been long established within the subculture.

As always, television and film did more to reinforce these subcultural trends as recognizable stereotypes, usually in a negative manner, than it did to help people embrace them. In media aimed towards a primarily teenage and young adult demographic, if a character did not possess the traditional traits of a hyper-masculine man, they instead fit into two different molds; either the neurotic geek or the melodramatic, moody goth. However, there were forms of media during the 90s that did manage to embrace and even relish with no sense of irony in the gothic aesthetic.

Two films which helped to build upon the enthusiasm for the vampire were Francis Ford Coppola’s lavish adaptation of Stoker’s novel titled Bram Stoker’s Dracula starring Gary Oldman in the titular role of Dracula and another adaptation of a more recent gothic favourite among goths, Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. The majority of the male goth scene especially emulated Oldman’s portrayal of Dracula when in the film he transforms into a much younger, more seductive version of himself in order to blend in with society, everything down to the shaded Victorian sunglasses and the long flowing hair; a vision of classic, sleek androgyny combined with an intimidating demeanor without being overly hyper-masculine.

Primarily taking place during the 18th and 19th century, Interview with the Vampire (the film and the original novel) also encouraged this very same trend, helping to establish European aristocratic elements into the gothic aesthetic; elements such as lace frills, finely tailored petticoats, corsets, and a general aura of delicacy.

Going back to Hodkinson’s findings, he states that “without actually rendering such categories insignificant, goth had from its very beginnings been characterized by the predominance, for both males and females, of particular kinds of style which would normally be associated with femininity” (Hodkinson, 35-64). However, it is important to acknowledge that the western goth subculture as described in this section, while a haven for various forms of gender expression, placed heavy emphasis on thin, white bodies. Over the years, diversity within the community has been promoted and encouraged, but rarely do we see it as the forefront face of gothicism.

The Japanese Goth Scene & Ayami Kojima

Modern gothicism was not limited to North America or Europe. In Japan, the subculture had evolved into its own form of self-expression through clothing and music that took inspiration from a variety of 18th and 19th century themes (mostly originating from European countries). Yet despite the numerous western influences, the eastern goth community during the 1990s and early 2000s embraced itself as something unique and wholly Japanese; in other words, different from what was happening within the North American movement at the same time. To refresh the memory, western goth culture focused primarily on the macabre that included completely black, moody wardrobes with an air of dark femininity. Japanese goth culture maintained those feminine traits, but included elements that were far more decadent, frivolous, and played further into the already established aristocratic motifs of gothicism. This created a new fashion subculture known as Gothic Lolita or Goth-Loli (no reference to the Vladimir Nabokov novel Lolita or the themes presented within the text itself).

In Style Deficit Disorder: Harajuku street fashion, a retrospective on the history of modern Japanese street fashion, the Goth-Loli image is described as “an amalgam of Phantom of the Opera, Alice in Wonderland, and Edgar Allan Poe” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 160). It was an aesthetic that took the western notion of “gothic” to higher levels with a heavier emphasis on opulence and an excessive decorative style—think Gothic meets Baroque meets Rococo. Teresa Younker, author of Lolita: Dreaming, Despairing, Defying, suggests that during the early years of the Gothic Lolita movement, it acted as a form of escapism for many young Japanese individuals searching for a way out of conformity. She states that “rather than dealing with the difficult reality of rapid commercialization, destabilization of society, a rigid social system, and an increasingly body-focused fashion norm, a select group of youth chose to find comfort in the over-the-top imaginary world of lace, frills, bows, tulle, and ribbons”. One pioneer that helped to bring the Goth-Loli image at the forefront of Japanese underground and street fashion the likes of Harajuku was the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible. Launched in 2001 by Index Communication and Mariko Suzuki, each issue acted as a sort of catalogue book for popular gothic and lolita trends that expanded to art, music, manga, and more.

According to Style Deficit Disorder, during this time when Gothic & Lolita Bible had helped bring the subculture into a larger collective awareness, the Goth-Loli image became “inspired by a yearning for something romantic overseas (...) and after taking on the “Harajuku Fashion,” ended up travelling overseas, while remaining a slightly strange fashion indigenous to Japan” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 137). Then came KERA Maniac, another magazine launched in 2003 that had “even darker clothing and international style points and references, such as features on the life and art of Lewis Carroll, Japanese ball-jointed dolls, or interviews with icons like Courtney Love” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 140). The fashion trends that both Gothic & Lolita Bible and KERA Maniac focused on also found popularity amongst visual kei bands which were usually all male performers who began sporting the very same ultra-feminine, ultra-aristocratic Goth-Loli brands that were always featured in these magazines.

Similar to traditional Kabuki theatre, “this visual-kei placed great importance on the gorgeous spectacle created onstage” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 135). One particular visual kei performer of the early 2000s that became Gothic & Lolita Bible’s biggest and most frequent collaborator was Mana. Best known for his musical and fashion career, Mana describes his onstage persona, merging aristocratic goth with elegant gothic lolita, as “either male or female but it is also neither male nor female. It is both devil and angel. The pursuit of a middle ground” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 159).

Opulence, decadence, and femininity with a dark undertone are all apt terms to describe the image of Japanese gothicism during the 90s and early aughts. They are also perfect descriptors of how artist Ayami Kojima changed the face of Castlevania from a franchise inspired by classic horror and fantasy to something more distinct. As a self-taught artist mainly working with acrylics, India ink, and finger smudging among other methods, 1997’s Castlevania: Symphony of the Night was Kojima’s first major title as the lead character designer. Over the years she worked on a number of separate video games including Samurai Warriors and Dynasty Warriors, along with other Castlevania titles. Before then, she made a name for herself as a freelance artist mainly working on novel covers and even collaborated with Vampire Hunter D creator Kikuchi Hideyuki for a prequel to his series. Kojima has been dubbed by fans as “the queen of Castlevania” due to her iconic contributions to the franchise.

Kojima’s influences cover a wide array of themes from the seemingly obvious (classic horror, shounen manga, and East Asian history) to disturbingly eclectic (surgery, body modification, and body horror). It is safe to assume that her resume for Castlevania involves some of her tamer works when compared to what else is featured in her 2010 artbook Santa Lilio Sangre. Yet even when her more personal art pieces rear into the grotesquely unsettling, they always maintain an air of softness and femininity. Kojima is never afraid to show how the surreal, the intense, or the horrifying can also be beautiful. Many of her pieces include details emblematic of gothicism; skulls, bloodied flowers, the abundance of religious motifs, and lavish backgrounds are all commonplace, especially in her Castlevania art. Her models themselves—most often androgynous men with sharp cheekbones, flowing hair, and piercing gazes—look as though they would fit right into a gothic visual kei band or the pages of Gothic & Lolita Bible.

Castlevania: Harmony of Despair was the final Castlevania game Kojima worked on, as well as her last game overall. It wasn’t until 2019 when she reappeared with new pieces including promotional artwork for former Castlevania co-worker Koji Igarashi’s Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night and a collaboration with Japanese musician Kamijo on his newest album. Her work has also appeared in the February 2020 issue of TezuComi, depicting a much lighter and softer side of her aesthetic. Ayami Kojima may have moved onto other projects, but the way in which she forever influenced the Castlevania image is still being drawn upon and emulated to this day.

Alucard c. 1997

There were actually three versions of Alucard during the 1990s, each of which were products of their time for different reasons. The first example is not only the most well known amongst fans and casual onlookers alike, but it is also the one design of Alucard that manages to stand the test of time. Ayami Kojima redesigned a number of classic Castlevania characters, giving them the gothic androgynous demeanour her art was known for. Most fans will say with some degree of jest that once Kojima joined Konami, Castlevania grew to look less like the masculine power fantasy it started as and more like a bishounen manga. No matter the differing opinions on the overall stylistic change of the series, Kojima’s reimagining of Alucard for Castlevania: Symphony of the Night is undoubtedly iconic. His backstory has more or less remained the same, carried over from Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse. After killing his father Dracula, Alucard, unable to fully process his actions or his bloodline, decides to force himself into a centuries long slumber in order to rid the world of his dark powers. Symphony of the Night begins with the Byronic dhampir prince waking up after nearly 300 years have passed once Dracula’s castle mysteriously reappears in close proximity to his resting place. The only difference this time is there seems to be no Belmont to take care of it, unlike previous years when Dracula is resurrected. Determined to finish what was started during the 15th century, the player takes Alucard on a journey throughout the castle, which has now become larger and more challenging than past incarnations.

Despite being somewhat of a direct sequel to Dracula’s Curse, Symphony’s Alucard is not the same dhampir as his 80s counterpart. Gone are any similarities to Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee; now Alucard bears more of a resemblance to Anne Rice’s own literary muse Lestat de Lioncourt from her ongoing Vampire Chronicles. Instead of slicked back dark hair, thick golden locks (which were originally black to match his father) cascade down Alucard’s figure, swaying with his every pixelated movement. Heeled leather boots, a black coat with gold embellishments along with an abnormally large collar underneath a flowing cape, and a high-collared cravat replace the simplistic wardrobe of 80s Alucard—from a traditional, minimalist goth mirroring his father’s masculinity to an extravagant, aristocratic goth with his own intense, almost macabre femininity.

With the early Metroidvanias came the inclusion of detailed character portraits designed by Ayami Kojima which would appear alongside a dialogue box to further establish the illusion of the characters speaking to each other. Symphony of the Night was one of the first titles where players got to see Alucard’s ingame expression and it looked exactly as it did on every piece of promotional poster and artwork. The same piercing glare, furrowed brow, and unshakeable inhuman determination, the sort that is also reflected in his limited mannerisms and character—all of which are displayed upon an immaculate face that rarely if ever smiles. Just by looking at his facial design nearly hidden behind locks of hair that always seems meticulously styled, it is clear that Alucard cannot and will not diverge from his mission. The only moment in the game when his stoic facade breaks completely is when he faces off against the Succubus, who tempts Alucard to give into his vampiric nature by disguising herself as his deceased mother Lisa. Yet even then he sees through her charade and, depending on the player’s ability, quickly disposes of her.

Despite his delicate feminine features, emotional softness is not one of Alucard’s strongest suits in Symphony. Though for someone in his position, someone who must remain steadfast and succeed in his goal or else fail the rest of humanity, where little else matters, Alucard’s occasional coldness (a trait that would return in recent Castlevania instalments) makes sense. There is a scene near at the climax of the game where he exposits to the other main protagonists Richter Belmont and Maria Renard about how painful it felt to destroy his father a second time, but he reframes it as a lesson about the importance of standing up against evil rather than an admission of his own vulnerability. However, he does choose to stay in the world of mortal humans instead of returning to his coffin (depending on which ending the player achieves).

The second 90s version of Alucard is a curious case of emulation, drawing inspiration from both Kojima’s redesign and other Japanese art styles of the 1990s. Castlevania Legends was released for the Game Boy the exact same year as Symphony of the Night and acted as a prequel to Dracula’s Curse, following its protagonist Sonia Belmont as she traverses through Dracula’s castle alongside Alucard and becomes the first Belmont in history to defeat him. It was then retconned after the release of Castlevania: Lament of Innocence in 2003 due to how its story conflicted with the overall timeline of the series. As with most of the earliest Game Boy titles, the ingame graphics of Legends are held back by the technological limitations, but the box art and subsequent character concepts reveal the game’s aesthetic which seems to take the most inspiration from other Japanese franchises of the decade. The biggest example would be Slayers, a popular comedic fantasy series that included light novels, manga, and anime. Legends Alucard is portrayed in this particular animated style, yet his design itself is very similar to how he looks in Symphony of the Night with only minor exceptions.

The third and arguably most obscure 90s Alucard comes from the animated children’s show Captain N: The Game Master, a crossover that brought together popular Nintendo characters like Mega Man, Kid Icarus, and Simon Belmont. The episodes were presented as traditional monsters of the week, meaning each one focused on a brand new story or environment usually taken from Nintendo games. One episode that aired in 1993 centered on Castlevania and featured a comedic and parodied version of Alucard. Although the episode took elements from Dracula’s Curse, Alucard was meant to be a stereotypical representation of rebellious 90s youth, i.e. an overemphasis on skateboarding and “radical” culture. A colorful, kid-friendly version of the character that was never meant to be taken seriously; much like the rest of the show.

Out of the three variations, Ayami Kojima’s Alucard is the one that made the biggest and longest lasting impact on Castlevania. Redesigning an iconic franchise or character always comes with its own risks and gambles. In the case of Symphony of Night, the gamble made by Kojima—and by extension Konami and director Koji Igarashi—paid off. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said regarding Alucard’s next major change as a character and an image.

Lords of Shadow

“What motivates a man to confront the challenges that most of us would run from?” This is a question put forth by Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, the first attempt by Konami to reinvigorate and inject new life into the Castlevania brand name by completing rebooting the universe. Starting from scratch as it were. Originally, Lords of Shadow seemed to have no connection to the Castlevania franchise. Announced by Konami during a games convention in 2008, this was meant to give more attention and not distract from the upcoming Castlevania: Judgment. However, merely a year later at Electronic Entertainment Expo, it was revealed that Lords of Shadow was in fact the next major step that Konami was taking with Castlevania. From its announcement and early trailers, the game was already generating a healthy amount of media buzz due to its updated graphics, design, and gameplay. Having Konami alumni, video game auteur, and creator of the critically acclaimed Metal Gear series Hideo Kojima attached to the project also helped to generate initial hype for this new phase of Castlevania (though it should be noted that Kojima was only credited as a consultant and advisor for the Lords of Shadow development team). After nearly a decade of near hits, substantial misses, and a lack of focus for the franchise, Castlevania had once again become one of the most highly anticipated upcoming games. To quote gaming news and reviews website GamesRadar+ at the time, “this could be a megaton release”.

And it was—so to speak. As mentioned in previous sections, the first Lords of Shadow did relatively well, garnering critical and commercial success. By November of 2010, nearly one million copies had sold in North America and Europe alone. While not a monumental achievement or a record breaker, Lords of Shadow soon became the highest selling Castlevania game of all time. But enough time has passed since its release and nowadays, fans look back upon this reinvented Castlevania timeline pushed by Konami with mixed feelings, some more negative than others.

The main criticism is that when it comes to gameplay, environment, and story, Lords of Shadow changed too much from its original source material. Change is not always a terrible thing especially in regards to long-running franchises and Castlevania had already gone through one massive upheaval with Symphony of the Night. Although the difference is how well that dramatic change was executed and how players reacted to it. For many, Lords of Shadow felt less like the game it was supposed to be emulating and more like other action hack-and-slashers of the time. The gameplay didn’t feel like Castlevania, it felt like Devil May Cry. Elements of the story didn’t feel like Castlevania, they felt like God of War. Each boss fight didn’t feel like Castlevania, they felt like Shadow of the Colossus (a frequent comment made by fans). Despite the familiar elements from past games that made their way into this new instalment, for many, Lords of Shadow was too little of Castlevania and too much of everything else that surrounded its development. Meanwhile, the afformented familiar elements seemed like attempts at fanservice in order to make sure that longtime fans felt more at home.

Does the game and its following sequels still hold any merit in terms of aesthetic and story? They do, especially when it comes to its style. Lords of Shadow, its midquel Mirror of Fate, and the sequel Lords of Shadow 2 are not unappealing games to look at. When examining the concept art of characters, enemies, and environments, one could argue that the Lords of Shadow series has some of the most visually striking Castlevania art in the series. The monster designs in particular take on a much grander, ambitious, and menacing presence that take inspiration from various mythological and biblical sources, the best example being Leviathan from Lords of Shadow 2.

By the 2010s, AAA video games in general were going through a sort of golden age with titles such as Assassin’s Creed 2, Batman: Arkham Asylum, and Red Dead Redemption among many others. Not only were the stories and gameplay mechanics improving by ten folds, so too were the graphical capacities that each game could uphold. Due to technological advancements, Castlevania had the chance to become more detailed and fleshed out than before. The locations of Lords of Shadow and its sequels, which ranged from gothic castles, to modern decrepit cities, to fantastical forests, grew lusher and more opulent while the monsters evolved past the traditional skeletons of the series into far more imposing nightmarish creatures.

The first game along with Mirror of Fate kept themselves fairly grounded in their respective environments. Nearly every character looks as though they firmly belong in the gothic fantasy world they inhabit. Gabriel Belmont and the rest of the Brotherhood of Light are dressed in robes reminiscent of medieval knights (with a few non-historical embellishments) while the vampiric characters of Carmilla and Laura dress in the same manner that typical vampires would. However, a new location known as Castlevania City was introduced in Lords of Shadow 2, modelled after a 21st century metropolitan cityscape. Characters with designs more suited to God of War or Soul Calibur intermingle with NPCs dressed in modern clothing, further highlighting the clash of aesthetics. While this is not the first time Castlevania has featured environments populated with humans, the constant shifting between a dark urban landscape with more science fiction elements than fantasy and the traditional gothic setting of Dracula’s castle can feel like whiplash.

The Lords of Shadow timeline was an ambitious attempt by Konami to try and give fans a Castlevania experience they had not seen before. New concepts that were previously unexplored or only alluded to in past games were now at the forefront. Yet the liberties that each game took with established Castlevania lore, both in terms of story and design, were perhaps too ambitious. The biggest example is the choice to have the Belmont protagonist turn into Dracula through a combined act of despair and selflessness, but Alucard went through a number of changes as well. Transforming him from the golden-haired aristocrat of the 90s and 2000s into an amalgamation of dark fantasy tropes.

Alucard c. 2014

After the success of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, Alucard reappeared in a number of following titles, most of which depicted him in his typical black and gold wardrobe. There were exceptions, including Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow and its direct sequel Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow where he adopts the alias of Genya Arikado, an agent for a futuristic Japanese organization dedicated to stopping any probable resurrections of Dracula. Because of this need to appear more human and hide his true heritage, Genya’s appearance is simple and possibly one of Ayami Kojima’s most minimalistic character designs; a black suit, shoulder length black hair, and the job is done. In Dawn of Sorrow, Alucard briefly appears as himself, drawn in a less detailed anime style that softens his once intensely stoic expression first seen in Symphony. The next exception is Castlevania: Judgment, a fighting game where characters from separate games and time periods are brought together to face off against one another. Konami brought on Takeshi Obata (who by then was famously known for his work on Death Note) as the lead character designer and in many regards had a similar aesthetic to Ayami Kojima, creating lavish gothic pieces that were heavily detailed and thematic.

Like Kojima, Obata was given free range to reconceptualize all of the characters appearing in Judgment with little to no remaining motifs from previous designs. This included Alucard, who dons a suit of silver armor and long white hair to match it. Judgment’s Alucard marked a turning point for the character in terms of appearance; a gradual change that was solidified by Lords of Shadow.

This is where things get complicated. While Castlevania could be considered a horror series solely based on its references, aesthetic, and monsters, nearly every iteration whether it comes down to the games or other forms of media tends to veer more towards the dark fantasy genre. Edward James and Farah Mendleson’s Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature describe the distinction between traditional horror and dark fantasy as a genre “whose protagonists believe themselves to inhabit the world of consensual mundane reality and learn otherwise, not by walking through a portal into some other world, or by being devoured or destroyed irrevocably, but by learning to live with new knowledge and sometimes with new flesh” (James; Mendleson, 218). While horror is a genre of despair, directly confronting audience members with the worst of humanity and the supernatural, “the protagonist of dark fantasy comes through that jeopardy to a kind of chastened wisdom” (James; Mendleson, 217).

Dark fantasy is ultimately a genre of acceptance (i.e. characters accepting a horrible change or embracing the world they have been forcibly thrown into), but it also represents a rejection of traditional tropes implemented by the works of Tolkien or the Brothers Grimm, thus defining itself by that very same act of rejection. An example of this is the theme of failure, which is common in many dark fantasy stories. There are far more unhappy or bittersweet endings than happy ones while the construction of the classic hero’s journey hinges more on all the possible ways in which the protagonist could fail in their quest.

Going off from this definition, the Lords of Shadow timeline fits squarely into the dark fantasy genre, especially concerning its two leading men. We already know that Gabriel Belmont sacrifices his humanity in order to become Dracula, but what happens to his son borders on a Greek tragedy. Before the “deaths” of Gabriel and Maria, they had a son named Trevor who was immediately taken into the care of the Brotherhood of Light and kept away from his father in order to protect him. Years later when Trevor is an adult with a family of his own, he vows to defeat Dracula for bringing shame and dishonor upon the Belmont bloodline. Yet when their eventual confrontation happens, Dracula easily beats Trevor who, on the verge of death, reveals the truth about his connection to the lord of vampires. In a desperate act of regret, Dracula forces Trevor to drink his blood and places him into a coffin labeled “Alucard” where he will seemingly rest for eternity.

Time passes and Trevor Belmont—now transformed into the vampire Alucard—awakens, just as he did at the beginning of Dracula’s Curse and Symphony of the Night. During his disappearance, his wife Sypha Belnades was killed by Dracula’s creatures, orphaning their son Simon Belmont. The two eventually meet and work together to stop Dracula, but Alucard cannot bring himself to tell Simon the truth.

Despite a well-deserved happy ending in Lords of Shadow 2 (he and his father reconcile before going off to presumably live a peaceful life), the character of Trevor/Alucard is built upon the same themes of failure and learning to accept terrible change found within dark fantasy. His design is especially reminiscent of one of the darkest and most tortured protagonists in the genre, Michael Moorcock’s Elric from his Elric of Melniboné series. First appearing in the June 1961 issue of Science Fantasy, he stands out amongst most sword and sorcery heroes, different from the hypermasculinity of Conan the Barbarian for his embittered personality, philosophical motifs, and memorable design. Elric is constantly described as looking deathly pale with skin “the color of a bleached skull; and the long hair which flows below his shoulders is milk-white” (Moorcock, 3) and a body that needs a steady stream of potions in order to function properly or else he will gradually grow weaker, nearer towards the edge of death—more a corpse than a human being.

Lords of Shadow Alucard is very much like a walking corpse as well. His long hair is the same milk-white tone as Elrics’, his skin is deprived of any real color, and his open chest outfit reveals a body that is both robust yet emaciated. Moorcock’s Elric was the prototype for many other white haired, pale faced, otherworldly antiheroes in fantasy that came afterwards and the darkly ethereal aesthetic that reflected his constant state of self-loathing and tragedy was the most ideal fit for this new version of Alucard. Both fail as traditional fantasy heroes, both abhor their physical states, yet both learn to embrace it at the same time.

A Brief History of Modern Animation

Before we move onto the final iteration of Dracula’s son, let us first acquaint ourselves with an artistic medium that has not been fully discussed yet. This essay has gone into detail concerning the aesthetics of video games, fashion, filmmaking, and music, but where does animation fit in? Since 1891’s Pauvre Pierrot, the only surviving short film predating the silent era with 500 individually painted frames, animation has evolved into one of the most expressive, diverse, and groundbreaking art forms of the modern age. There were earlier methods that fit into the animation mold before Pauvre Pierrot including but not limited to shadow play, magic lantern shows, and the phenakistoscope, one of the first devices to use rapid succession in order to make still images look as though they were moving. Throughout the 20th century, with the help of mainstream studios like Warner Bros. and of course Walt Disney, the medium quickly began to encompass a variety of techniques and styles beyond a series of drawings on paper. Some of the more recognizable and unique styles are as followed:

Digital 2-D animation

Digital 3-D animation

Stop-motion

Puppetry

Claymation

Rotoscoping

Motion capture

Cut-out animation

Paint-on-glass

The most common forms used in film and television are traditional hand drawn and digital 3-D, sometimes merged together in the same product. There has been much debate over which animation technique has more artistic merit and is more “authentic” to the medium, but the reality is that there is no singular true form of animation. Each style brings its own advantages, challenges, and all depends on how it is being used to tell a specific story or evoke a feeling within the audience. For example, the 2017 semi-biographical movie Loving Vincent is animated in a nontraditional style with oil paints in order to create the illusion of a Vincent Van Gogh painting that has come to life. As Loving Vincent is about the influential painter himself and his tragic life, this animation technique works to the film’s advantage. If the story had used a more traditional form like 2-D or 3-D, it might not have had the same impact. Another example like the film A Scanner Darkly starring Keanu Reeves uses a somewhat controversial technique known as rotoscoping, which entails tracing over live action scenes in order to give it a realistic yet still animated feel. A Scanner Darkly is a futuristic crime thriller meant to evoke a sense of surrealism and discomfort, making the uncanniness of rotoscoping the perfect fit for its artificial atmosphere.

Throughout its history, animation has gone through a number of phases corresponding to political, artistic, and historical events such as propaganda shorts from Walt Disney during World War II and the rise of adult-oriented animators who rode the wave of countercultural movements during the late 1960s and early 70s. Animation meant for older audiences was especially coming into its own as most audiences had become more comfortable associating the medium with the family friendly formula perfected by the Disney company. The only other western mainstream animation studio that could stand toe to toe with Disney while also dabbling in mature subject matter at the time was Warner Bros. and its juggernaut Looney Tunes, which even then was mostly relegated to smoking, slapstick violence, and mild suggestive material. Meanwhile, the works of Ralph Bakshi, arguably the father of elevated adult animated features, dealt with everything from dark humor, sexuality, profanity, and complex themes most of which delved into pure shock value and were highly offensive in order to make a statement. There were later exceptions to this approach including Bakshi’s own adaptation of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Wizards, and Fire and Ice, a high profile collaboration with Frank Frazetta, in which both films utilized rotoscope animation to create unique, fantasy-based experiences for mature viewers.

With the right amount of funds and creativity, other countries began developing their own animated features with distinct styles that reflected the culture, social norms, and history in which they originated from. The 1960s are referred to as “the rise of Japanese animation”, or as it came to be known worldwide as anime, thanks to iconic characters of the decade like Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion, and Speed Racer. The longest running anime with over 7,700 episodes to date is Sazae-san, based on the popular 1940s comic strip of the same name. Western audiences commonly associate modern anime with over the top scenarios, animation, and facial movements while having little to no basis in reality when it comes to either story or character design.

While the Walt Disney company was steadily losing its monopoly on the animation industry with financial and critical disappointments (making room for other animators like Don Bluth) until it's renaissance during the 1990s, the 1980s turned into a golden age for ambitious, groundbreaking anime projects. Not only were films like Akira, Grave of the Fireflies, Barefoot Gen, and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind among many others, appealing to a wide variety of audiences, they were also bold enough to tackle mature, complex subject matter with a certain degree of nuance that complimented each film’s unique but often times bizarre or surreal styles. Akira watches like a violent cyberpunk splatterfest with extreme body horror and juvenile delinquency, yet its borderline exploitative methods serve a larger purpose. Akira takes place in a bleak, dystopian Japan where Tokyo has been rebuilt after its destruction in 1988, setting up an allegorical story that directly confronts government experimentation and the fallout of nuclear warfare.

Artists of all mediums have always influenced one another and the impact that anime has had on western animation continues to this day whether through passing tongue-in-cheek references, taking inspiration from common anime tropes while also depicting them through a western lens, or shows that feature a heavily emulated anime style like Avatar: The Last Airbender and its successor The Legend of Korra. Then there are shows that completely blur the lines between western animation and anime, with the ultimate distinction usually coming down to where it was originally developed (i.e. North America or Japan).

Alucard c. 2017

The overall aesthetic and image of Netflix’s Castlevania is built upon a number of different influences, the majority of which come from Japanese animation. Executive producer and long time Castlevania fan Adi Shankar has gone on record saying that the show is partially “an homage to those OVAs that I would watch on TV (...) and I was like, “This is beautiful, and it’s an art form”. He has also directly compared the show to those golden age-era ultra violent anime features of the 80s and 90s, including titles such as Akira, Ghost in the Shell, and Ninja Scroll. Director Samuel Deats, another avid Castlevania fan, has mentioned the long-running manga series Berserk along with its 1997 anime adaptation as one of the animation team’s primary inspirations numerous times, explaining in further detail in a 2017 interview with io9: “I pulled out my ‘I love the Berserk manga, Blade the Immortal’ and all that. That dark fantasy style of storytelling, character design, how gorey it gets… I put together a bunch of drawings and sketches, and a few color images that channeled all of that”.

Watching Castlevania, the aesthetic references to Berserk are obvious. Both series merge together medieval fantasy elements with gruesome horror but they are also similar in their particular animation styles. One director from Korean studio MOI Animation who partnered with Powerhouse Animation collaborated on the feature length film Berserk: The Golden Age—The Egg of the King along with its two sequels. But the biggest inspiration for the design of Castlevania, especially when it comes to its characters, is Ayami Kojima herself.

From the pre-production phase, the team at Powerhouse knew they wanted Kojima’s art to be the main basis of how the finished product would look and feel. According to Samuel Deats, “In the back of everyone’s heads, we knew that we wanted to heavily reference the style Ayami Kojima used in the Castlevania games. We wanted to bring the same shade-before-image sort of thing”. However, due to the sheer amount of details and embroidered style of Kojima’s aesthetic, many of her original designs had to be simplified into 2-D animated forms (just as they had to be reduced into pixelated form for Symphony of the Night).

Alucard’s animated design is the best example of this simplification process, but it took some trial and error in order to arrive at the finished product. When Castlevania was originally planned as a movie, his design veered closer to the otherworldliness and corpse-like aesthetic of Lords of Shadow Alucard—something that looked as far from a human being let alone a dhampir as possible. Following the years of stifled development until Netflix picked up the project, Powerhouse opted to fall back on Kojima’s artwork for sheer iconography and recognizability.

On the one hand, animated Alucard’s facial expressions are identical to his game counterpart with the exception of a few liberties taken; same determined scowl, same intensely golden eyes, and same lush eyelashes (there’s even a note from his character sheet specifically stating that they must cast shadows for close-ups). Most of all, the same feminine androgyny of Kojima’s work. But there are just as many omitted details from Alucard’s updated model as there are those that were carried over from the original design. When compared to Symphony of the Night, his wardrobe seems to be severely lacking in excessive ornaments, instead opting for a sleek black coat with simple gold embellishments, knee high boots with a slight heel, and a white shirt with an open v-neckline. Despite these supposedly easy changes and evocation of Kojima’s art style, Alucard is still one of the more difficult characters to animate as stated by Deats: “I mean, Alucard has to be just right. You can’t miss an eyelash on him without it looking weird”.

For the most part, it shows in the final product. There are moments when the animation goes off model (as is the case with most 2-D animated shows for time and budgetary reasons), but rarely is Alucard drawn from an unflattering angle. The other reason for his change in design is the fact that Castlevania takes place three centuries before the events of Symphony of the Night. Because of the story constraints and console limitations, players were not given an in-depth look at Alucard’s character beyond his quest to defeat Dracula and the guilt he felt afterwards. It would make sense that his demeanor differs from the stoic nature of how he reacts to certain situations three hundred years later. As a result, Alucard is given a toned-down design to reflect what he might have been like as a younger, brasher, and more immature version of himself.

This immaturity and juvenile nature of his visual image comes through in his portrayal. While the show is in its third season, we will primarily focus on season two as when compared to the others, it revolves around Alucard’s personal journey towards an important aspect of his long established character the most; namely, the reason for his rebellion against Dracula and his eventual act of patricide. Because Alucard only appears as a silhouette in episode one then makes his full introduction during the last fifteen minutes of the final episode, season one gives the audience a very limited idea of his character. What we do get from Alucard is the same impression that Symphony of the Night left fans with: someone who is determined, intensely fixated on his goal, and is willing to use any means to accomplish it—even if it involves striking a tentative truce between a vampire hunter and a scholar of magic. Season two expands upon this, showing an Alucard who is soft-spoken, careful in his mannerisms, more feminine than masculine, yet always rises to the occasion whenever he needs to match Trevor Belmont’s own crassness. For all of his grace, Alucard’s high emotions coupled with an unchecked immaturity (especially in the presence of Trevor) show how ill-equipped he is when dealing with human interactions.

One other piece of evidence that adds to this chink in Alucard’s carefully crafted metaphorical armor is the goal of stopping his father. Throughout small interactions and moments of dialogue, the truce struck between him, Trevor, and Sypha eventually develops into more of a friendship, yet Alucard continues to suffer from extreme tunnel vision, going as far as to chastise his two companionships whenever they get too distracted or unfocused from their mission. This character flaw is also touched upon in Castlevania: Grimoire of Souls when characters remark upon Alucard’s (otherwise referred in the game as Arikado) overly serious nature. A flaw that does more to unintentionally push others away rather than any attempt to bring them closer to him.

When Alucard finally achieves his goal of killing Dracula, it leaves him feeling hollow. He doesn’t quite know how to fully process this ultimate decision, maintaining a delicate sense of composure on the outside while in the presence of others. It’s only when Alucard is left alone does he allow the emotions of everything that has just happened to overwhelm him in a moment of genuine vulnerability that was only alluded to in previous scenes.

Conclusion

Despite the show being renewed for a fourth season, the future of the Castlevania franchise in general remains uncertain. There’s been no talk of any other past games being set for rerelease, Grimoire of Souls continues to make sporadic updates to its gacha system rather than its story mode, and Konami has since chosen to take a step back from developing video games in favour of manufacturing pachislot machines. Symphony of the Night and Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night creator Koji Igarashi has mentioned in past interviews that should Konami somehow make a return to Castlevania, he would be willing to direct a new instalment. But at the present time, rumors have remained rumors and there are no signs of a new official Castlevania game in the near future whether developed by Konami or an outside company.

No matter what direction Castlevania takes in the years to come, it seems as though Alucard will always follow it, just as Dracula and the Belmonts will as well. This is his franchise as much as it is theirs thanks to continued fan popularity. He’s taken many forms in the past thirty years and become the visual representation of certain trends, yet one thing about him never changes: he is still Dracula’s son, the opposite of his father. He can be cruel, powerful, cold, and everything else a Byronic hero should be yet he can also reject his masculine inheritance in both character and aesthetic.

Above all else, the human side of Alucard is greater than the monstrous side.

References

Bannister, Matthew. White Boys, White Noise: Masculinities and 1980s Indie Guitar Rock. Burlington: Taylor & Francis, 2017.

Castlevania Wiki | Fandom. https://castlevania.fandom.com/wiki/Castlevania_Wiki

Dyhouse, Carol. Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

Godoy, Tiffany; Hirakawa, Takeji. Style Deficit Disorder: Harajuku Street Fashion, Tokyo. San Francisco: Chronicles Books, 2007.

Hodkinson, Paul. Goth: Identity, Style and Subculture. Bloomsbury Fashion Central, 2002.

Hutchings, Peter. Hammer and Beyond: The British Horror Film. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993.

James, Edward; Mendlesohn, Farah. The Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

Kibby, M.D. Real Men: Representations of Masculinity in the Eighties Cinema. Sydney: Western Sydney University Thesis Collection, 1997.

Kojima, Ayami. Santa Lilio Sangre. ToÌ"kyoÌ" : Asukashinsha, 2010.

Metzger, Patrick. “The Nostalgia Pendulum: A Rolling 30-Year Cycle of Pop Culture Trends.” The Patterning. WordPress.com, 2017. https://thepatterning.com/2017/02/13/the-nostalgia-pendulum-a-rolling-30-year-cycle-of-pop-culture-trends/

Moorcock, Michael. Elric of Melniboné. New York: Ace Fantasy, 1987.

Narcisse, Evan. “The Animation Studio That Made Castlevania Explains Why It Was A Dream Project.” io9. Gizmodo, 2017. https://io9.gizmodo.com/the-animation-studio-that-made-castlevania-explains-why-1797476526

Younker, Terasa. “Japanese Lolita: Dreaming, Despairing, Defying.” Standford Journal of East Asian Affairs, 2012, 97-110.

#castlevania #alucard #alucard castlevania #adrian fahrenheit tepes #castlevania netflix #castlevania symphony of the night #ayami kojima #konami #my writing #i'm sending my baby out into the world...... be gentle

414 notes · View notes

lixiefe · 4 years

Text

Can’t Touch-k.sm

Chapter Three: Touch as light as feather

Words: 1.6k

Warning: description of anxiety/ panic attack

SEUNGMIN WAS utterly fashionable, but he didn't go out much. So all his fashion-sense was invested into making suits look unique and contemporary; not at all in accordance to the classic black-white formal wear. Even if he wasn't quite interested in the meet-up, he still dressed himself rather well. A gray suit paired with an emerald tie and black silk shirt underneath.

It wasn't appropriate to say that Seungmin was nervous, because he refused to fall into baseless nervousness. But the possibility that people he was not close with might touch him, even for greeting, scared him. He was anxious and he knew of nothing that could get him away from this.

In a flurry of anxiety, he found himself stuffing a pocket hand sanitizer and wet wipes along with it. He breathed deeply, eyes closing and subtly opening again, seeing his godforsaken reflection in the mirror. With that, he somberly receded down to the living room where he found his mother; staring intensely into her smartphone, her nude nail polish contrasting her bright red matte phonecase.

At the sound of his footsteps, his mother looked up, eyes gleaming as she skipped towards her son. "Oh my god! You look gorgeous!" she beamed with glee, a happiness all too threatening in the latter’s eye..

Her gaze was of a proud mother as she ran her eyes from his head to toe. Seungmin found it strange how his mother somehow considered him to be the most enticing man ever, even though he couldn't see why. To Seungmin, she looked like she was about to drag him through the building and show off just how incredibly handsome her son was. And involuntary shudder spiked up his spine at the thought. However, he couldn’t suppress the achievement he felt.

"I am not gorgeous." Seungmin mumbled, a slight smile creeping up his face. It wasn't wrong that no matter how much he pretended that he hated compliments, it mystified him every time.

"Oh come on! I am sure Y/L/N is going to be surprised."

Seungmin inwardly cringed at that. He didn't want to impress someone who was being forced upon him. If anything he wanted to be Shrek, with layers resembling onions and filled with unfiltered disgust, so that she could reject him at once. It also fired up his senses on why she didn't refuse the connubial first hand. Maybe, maybe she also didn’t have a choice. But the wee grudge at the lack of protest from the other side wasn’t something he could ignore. But he wasn’t much different.

Seungmin knew he was being a hypocrite but he couldn't help himself. Who would like it if they were to be married when they clearly didn't want to?

---

Seungmin was seated on the reserved table of his mother's favorite restaurant, tapping on his phone without looking up. It was to her great malevolence that he got to seat himself farther away from everyone, in a subdued corner. There was a blank seat between him and his mother, and he prayed to whoever that his mother doesn't make the girl seat there of all places when there were three vacant seats right in front.

It was then that Seungmin looked up from his phone when he saw people nearing their table along with a series of embraces and complements. They missed other this much in such a short time?

He put his phone down and looked up, eyes trailing on the young girl hidden behind the elder women. His brows furrowed in awe, trying to obtain as much view of you as possible. But all he saw was a section of silky waist length -- hair, which he found extremely beguiling. His eyes betrayed his own orders as they trailed behind your hair as you moved.

He also noticed your subtle movements that gave justice to proper etiquette and upbringing. And all his momentary hatred seemed to vanish away as if it's existence was a lie. Which wasn’t much inaccurate.

Finally, as the women dispersed from each other, Seungmin mentally gawked at you as you gracefully sat down right in front of him. You gave him a quick tense smile, folding your hands on your lap and looking down right away, wisps of your bangs falling in your eyes. You shyly blinked them away.

Although he couldn't catch how you looked, Seungmin found your small actions immensely attractive. All through his years he never really focused on anyone, he couldn't. And now that he acknowledged there were people like you in the world, the confines of his office room seemed crooked, evil even.

Seungmin couldn't help but admit that you were absolutely enchanting, even though his standards of ‘ enchanting ‘ was unknown to himself. And your peach dress contrasting your skin made you look even more gorgeous, a fairy in disguise. Undoubtedly, you were the most beautiful female he had laid his eyes on his whole life, aside from his mother of course. And he hadn’t even seen you properly.

But then again, you were so stunning that you might have had multiple boyfriends, or a ton of guys crushing on you, competing for your attention, he thought. And that didn't make him feel exceptional anymore.

"Seungmin, introduce yourself!" Seungmin shook away from his trance, blinking his eyes once again. He saw you abruptly lift up you head, your hair swaying in the act.

When he thought you couldn't get any prettier, he felt his heart skip a beat. You looked innocently evocative with facial features that were distinct; soft, with a touch of exuberance. Your eyes a magnificent --- that seemed to brighten with the reflection of light from above.

How your skin glowed under the extravagant chandeliers of the restaurant and how your hair shined in the fluorescence, was a mystery to him. Seungmin figured his eyes were malfunctioning, hallucinating countless glowing sparkles that circulated around you like Cinderella’s magic heels.

But this is not some disney movie depiction?

He detected that you hadn't worn much makeup. All he could see was your lip tint, which had a glossy hue, making your lips stand out in the most sensational manner. Seungmin felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. Was it love at first sight?

No! Not in a million years. He mentally slapped himself. But he quickly zoned himself back to reality.

"Kim Seungmin. It's nice to meet you," he said, giving you a small tight-lipped smile. He didn't bring his hands forth for a handshake, since he couldn't muster to. Instead, he gave you a little bow to show courtesy.

"Kim Y/N. Glad to meet you too." You returned the bow and offered a smile, which Seungmin nervously returned along with another tentative bow.

Now that you finally took a look, your mother was right. Your supposed-to-be fiancé was awfully handsome, with flawless skin and princely visuals. You noticed his dark brown hair pushed back with frails falling over his forehead, fashioning his hair in a unique manner. His mono-lid eyes looked unnecessarily glamorous and face pointlessly good-looking. Nonetheless, he was surely appealing in his own exclusive way and you couldn't help but admire him.

The rest of the lunch went by smoothly. You mother engaged into a heated conversation with her friend. It didn't seem like they could ever talk enough, much less catch up onto their lives.

You also glanced at Seungmin occasionally. He was constantly texting someone on his phone, who you guessed to be his associate. You weren’t keen on disrupting whatever conversation he might be having. Now, you were the only one sitting straight and only perceiving your surroundings. The decorum of place was without a word very luxurious, so high class compared to you.

No way did you fit in here.

You were about to take a tissue from the decorative container, not acknowledging that Seungmin had reached out for one as well. You felt your hand brush with his fingers for a brief moment, touch as light as feather. But he pulled his hand back almost immediately. Your eyes fixated on his changed movements, observing.

And you noticed that his demeanor had become a tad bit panicky; anxious. One of his legs shaking underneath the table as his gaze vacillated through the conserved area every second. You didn't know if he was just nervous or if there was something going on, something you had no idea of.

At that very moment, he excused himself to the washroom, leaving you with your running thoughts and unconfirmed assumptions.

Seungmin hastily went inside the washroom, immediately fishing out the patch of wet wipes and using one to sanitize the area your hand touched his. He rubbed multiple times before using a liquid soap to clean his hands further. He felt panic set within his chest and the more he rubbed the more ease he felt. Thriving for the burning feeling in his chest to go away, he continued to cleanse his hands for a solid thirty seconds.

He was discombobulated. He felt like he needed to constantly clean himself to not contaminate someone else with germs, similarly the other way around. The only thought in his mind was that, it couldn't happen again.

He couldn't touch you, because he felt so disgusting and out of place that it was an abstract prohibition for him. And the thoughts were so indirect and repetitive that it made him dizzy. He knew he was fidgety with touches, but what the fuck was this feeling? It was intense to the point it made him feel like a maniac on loose.

He looked at himself in the mirror and spotted a glisten of cool sweat forming on his forehead. He wiped them away with another wipe and went back to the table.

Why was he so riled up?

As soon as you saw Seungmin entering your line of view, you had your eyes totally set on him and his every posture. He timidly sat down in front of you and proceeded to finish his meal.

It bothered you when you saw that his middle and index fingers were faintly reddish, as if he’d scratched them. You didn't recall any reddish patch on his hands when he reached out for the tissue. But you didn't give it much thought at the moment. Maybe on his journey from the washroom to here, a mosquito had bit him.

Even though that could be it, you couldn't convince yourself.

a/n: I feel like it’s very messy...

91 notes · View notes

gruftu · 3 years

Text

In the beginning chapter 1

Genre- smut, wet dream

Warning- explicit scenes, NSFW, only 18 +

You have to be absolute sure to read this as it contains mature content and only appropriate for people above the age of 18. I hope you are truthful, honest and head out from here if you are below the stipulated age. And if you are legal, happy reading sis. This will be an ongoing series about a wet dream I had about this exotic man. There are very weird elements as it is a dream. But mostly it gives off the feelings of being satisfied and loved, and sometimes emotional through the process of getting intimate with that exotic guy. Read on.

Chapter 1

I was walking through a city that reeked of lavenders everywhere. The people looked beautiful, especially the men. Choicest and the exotic looking men chattered with their husky voices doing chores like carrying a mirror across the street. I saw my reflection and found myself scantily clad in a bottle green summer dress. Everyone looked at me with a smirk, like they knew I was worth their attention. "Today's my day," I thought.

The city looked so bright and lively, straight out of a Wes Anderson movie. Everyone wore beautiful clothes, some shirtless with their bodies glistening under the sun while they cracked open a can, guzzling down chilled beer while few drops trickled from the corner of their mouth. I licked my lips and smiled to myself.

Some walked with their toes all pink, like they never walked the face of Earth. Some helped me cross the street. Some just offered me a can. It was, in short, a paradise for a someone who never did it. As I looked up ahead, an attractive man gave me a smile. It stuck in my head as he was strikingly different from all. He had skin as smooth and dark as chocolate, built like Michelangelo's David. He was bald but I couldn't help but notice his structure. He was chiseled and curved at the right places, made me ache in a vulgar manner. He, of all, reeked mostly of citrus fruits. As he came closer, his lips invited my mouth to part, but didn't meet. He grabbed my tiny frame just in his palms, while his thumb supported my neck, like I was some doll. Going straight for my neck, he landed a peck with his warm and moist lips in the middle of the street. "Meet me in the alley down the block in five..." he whispered and walked away, leaving me all parched and bothered.

I was swooning, and dripping. My cheeks went red as I did the walk of shame towards the alley. I never had casual sex, and here I was inviting unknown trouble to my life. Guess excitement took over my conscience. I was not practically a virgin as I did finger myself, but never orgasmed. "This is it. It will happen today..." I thought and followed his words like it were the sayings from a holy script.

As I turned towards the alley, he was leaning against the explicitly spray painted wall. Taking a long drag from the cigar between his teeth, he heard the sound of my feet echoing as I walked closer to him. Looking up with his dark eyes, he gestured me to follow him up the stairs. Walking round and round up the stairs made me dizzy, but what was more dizzying was his mysterious aura.

A window appeared at the end of the stairs. He climbed to go in and looked back to offer his hand. As I hopped into the room, he grabbed my arms and pulled me into his embrace, like a heavy quilt wrapped me. Taking a deep breath, he paused to feel my chest rise and fall, planting soft kisses into the hairline of my forehead, like I was the lover he did this to. It was like the world stopped turning and I was not in my senses anymore. This man's body felt soft and hard through the cotton material on him. And I couldn't understand how, but he had to take measures to calm me down asap, or I would break down into molecules. The man looked down at my trembling and small frame. He was breathing heavily while his hands travelled everywhere only to test my patience. He undid the embrace to take a good look. My eyes were not meeting his, yet I felt him smile at me, mesmerised by the flaws and beautiful imperfections. My hair felt unkempt. The dress was not flaunting my assets. Yet this man took the time to look at me, like I were art people had restricted access to. The straps fell and hung barely by the hems. With one wank, he tore apart the flimsy thing, leaving me naked.

I flinched at the sensation of fabric tearing apart. The noise only aroused my further for anticipation. He walked around, looking at me struggle to stand in one place. He took one turn and paused behind me, my breasts and belly bare open in view of anyone through the large window. The sun was about to set, giving out the angriest of orange hue on the town. I was soon getting entranced by an unknown force. My eyes grew darker as he turned to stand before me. I felt content and happy in the place I was for the first time.

He noticed my eyes growing dark and got lost, as if he was looking for something. His hands were on my back drawing circles around my butt.

"Hi" I said cowardly. He gave out a gentle chuckle before saying this- "I was waiting for you my Amor." And without warning, he touched me in between my legs. All of it while looking straight into my eyes. He did not want to miss a single thing. He was so concentrated at every arch in my brow and twitch my face did at his touch.

"Are you wet already?" he asked, flicking his fat index finger across my womanhood. That didn't calm me down, I thought and let out the loudest moan. His fingers made me edge towards a strange feeling where my mind didn't have control. I was not just wet, I throbbed and begged for release. I almost bit down his arms as his hands rubbed my soft butt slowly and incessantly.

I felt how my uncontrollable moans were satisfying him. I felt him get harder, his tip protruding and digging into my belly button. Every warm breath he let out into my neck made me weak and sensitive.

"Please, do what you have to... I can't hold it any longer..." I begged for mercy. I don't remember myself begging for something this much. And he was not going to let me get it so easily. And I didn't want him to let go of me so easily.

#female reader #smut #eighteen plus #wet dream #consent #exotic #passion

4 notes · View notes

neocity-sarai · 4 years

Text

“Love in _____ “ series

❀ chapter 3: reader x jaemin

❀ forbidden love

❀ alerts: fluff, tinge of angst, language, suggestive, making out, i do not speak fluent french whatsoever, please forgive the mistakes, mentions of the dreamies

❀ song rec: “paris” by sabrina carpenter

“Love in Paris”

You’re surprised how you managed to make it this far. When you first told your parents that you wanted to move to Paris, they shot you down even before you finished. You told them you wanted to live by yourself to experience independence in a cultural epicenter and have some type of outlet to practice your french skills. Not that you were an expert in any way. Several days later, your father convinced your mother that it would be a good way to see the world and live in an environment that was different from your dull, quiet neighborhood. Before you knew it, you were on a one-way plane to Paris, France.

Several months later

Thankfully, you were pretty decent at your french skills without butchering the accent you had to adopt when speaking. You got a job at a nearby cafe that was close to your studio apartment but you couldn’t feel any happier. Despite having such a small room, you adored it. All you had was a small bed, a wooden vanity, a mirror, and a few belongings from home. Every morning, you’d wake up to the honey-colored window next to your bed as you hung your arms out of it- looking at the Eiffel tower that scraped against the dawn sky. It was like you were living in a painting, the way that the sky turned a light shade of lilac during twilight or how the city glowed in the late hours of the night. In the mornings, you’d always pick up a bouquet of pansies in the market that resided in the Jardin des Tuileries. You’d place the flowers in a crystal glass that you found in some vintage store in passing, you considered it your best investment. During the night time, you always felt yourself relaxing with the sound of occasional car honks or the buskers playing their accordions on the streets. You’d put your headphones on to play some soft music, swirling a glass of red wine that sat in your hand. Over the first few weeks of coming there, you mostly stuck to your day to day routine rather than exploring Paris for yourself. When you had the time, you promised that you would scour the city by every corner and alley. You just had to earn your rent money first.

You actually found the boulangerie by accident. You made a wrong turn somewhere and discovered a quaint, two story bakery that was called, “Claudette’s.” By chance, you decided to follow the comforting scent of fresh bread and honey-glazed pastries, an older woman who wore a chiffon skirt smiled at you. The establishment only had a couple customers in it, she made her way around the corner, “Comment puis-je vous aider madame?”

You answered her, “Embauchez- vous?”

“Oui.”

You walked closer to her, shaking her hand, “Je voudrais travailler ici. Parlez vous anglais?”

“Oui, un peu.”

“Merci.”

Though you could speak french without many problems, you still preferred speaking in english. You’re grateful that the woman was willing to cooperate with you. She eyed you curiously. She seemed like a character straight out of a novel as her hair piled into a messy bun of white, her apron is embroidered with tiny blossoms, and she looked extremely young for how old she actually was. In a heavy french accent she spoke to you, “Are you new in Paris?”

“I am, since a few months ago.”

“What- er, why work at my shoppe?”

Though the job is to make money, you really did want to experience the life of working in a bakery. You always were interested in how to make coffee or how to ice cakes and back home, you just couldn’t. You continue, “I want to learn from you, mademoiselle.”

“Call me Claudette, welcome.”

After your encounter with Claudette, you had been in Paris for nearly a year. Time flew by and you hadn’t even noticed. You were comfortable after trying and failing to make french-foam macchiatos, mixing up people’s orders, and getting the texture of the pastries right. You were thankful that Claudette was patient with you.

Like every other Monday morning, you swung the sign that hung on the bakery’s door to open, taking the morning rush on by yourself. Claudette entrusted the shoppe to you when she needed to sort out inventory or go on errands. You didn’t mind that, knowing your customers’ names, conversations about their lives. When you finally got to the end of the line, a peculiar customer had stepped foot through the doorway. He seemed to be taller than you, dressed in a white t-shirt and a blue blazer with matching pants to go with it. The odd part was that you couldn’t clearly see his face as it was covered with a black scarf, hat, and blake sunglasses. Why did it seem like he was trying to hide his face? You asked him, “Comment puis-je vous aider?”

“Je voudrais un expresso, pas de lait.”

“Donc tout noir?”

“Huh?” Despite the dark shades over his eyes, you could still sense the boy’s confusion in his voice. You took your chances, “Are you fluent in english?”

“I sure am.”

You nod at him skeptically, “I was asking if you were sure you wanted all black, that’s a lot of caffeine.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice muffled under his scarf, “Are you questioning my refined tastes?”

“Uh- no sir. That is not my intention. But, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

The boy pulls out his credit card as he darts his eyes around the cafe. Like he insists, you serve him his tiny cup of all black espresso, you even grimace at the heavy scent despite working with coffee for so long. He wasn’t kidding, he had gulped it down like it was nothing- your eyes widening at the sight. He smiled, his scarf still wrapped around his face. “I’d like another please.”

You eye him incredulously, “More? really?”

“Yes, that’s what I said miss..”

“Y/n. It’s y/n.”

“Your establishment is quite the place. You’ll be seeing me here often.”

Trying your best to smile at him, “I look forward to it.” You walk back to the counter, packing sweets for the next customer as you watch the boy gaze out the window. Even his posture seemed so formulaic due to the way he crossed in legs in a prim-proper way, dainty fingers stirring his half-full espresso shot. When you get around to the boy’s third espresso, your surge of confidence makes you lean down at him, “You asked my name, isn’t it right that I know yours?”

He slides his shades down slightly, his eyes a dark brown, “Oh, don’t worry y/n. You’ll be seeing plenty of me that you won’t forget my name.”

He places a large bill on the table, winking at you, “Keep the change, y/n. You deserve it for working so hard.”

He struts out the door, leaving you just as confused as you felt when he first walked in. Who was that? And why was he acting so mysteriously? Throughout the day, you hadn’t thought about him after being so busy taking orders and fulfilling them.

To your surprise, the same boy came the next day around noon. You could tell by his odd disguise that contrasted with his crisp, white suit- his voice in a lower octave than yesterday. He whispered, “I’d like another espresso and a croissant please.”

You typed up his total on the register, two girls whispering behind him in line. He sat at one of the tables before one of the girls could tap on his shoulder, her expression falling when he walked away. When you set down his cup, you eye him carefully, “If you want more espressos, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on.”

He rests his chin on his hand before yanking his scarf down, “In what obligation do I have to do that? Isn’t it called customer confidentiality?”

“Not if you’re causing a disturbance. You look so suspicious right now!”

A scowl is scribbled on the boy’s face, some pink hair sticking out of his dark bucket hat, “Do you have anywhere private?”

“Follow me.” You lead him to your back stock room, his proximity too close for comfort. His eyes dart from the front of the store and back to you, his hand ripping off his mysterious ensemble. The boy finally reveals his face, a beautiful one at that. The locks that sit at the top of his head curl on his forehead are a shade of bubblegum pink, his lashes accent his eyes attractively, and his cheekbones accentuate his boyish charm. The boy smiles at you, his teeth shining through his pink lips, “You can’t tell anyone that I’m me.”

You stare back at him, “Who exactly are you?”

The boy dramatically runs a hand through his pink hair, “You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

He sighs, “I’m Jaemin Na.”

You don’t catch on. Instead, you look down into space, catching a sight of Claudette’s magazine pile- a picture of a pink-haired boy on the front cover.

“Wait a minute-”

You grab the magazine hastily, holding it up next to the boy’s face, “Y-you’re Jaemin Na?”

He smiles brightly at you, “The one and only.” You rub your fingers against your chin, “Wait, what do you do exactly?”

Jaemin sighs at you, resting a hand on the wall near your head, “Listen sweetie, I’m the son of the Na family- consuls to the royal family of Versailles. I stay in the palace.”

“Ohh- so you’re a rich elitist boy?”

“Well- I guess you could put it that way.”

You scan him up and down curiously, “Well that explains the lame disguise. I’m sure girls would try to maul you. If it’s so much work, why don’t you just have one of the palace people make you coffee? Why bother coming here?”

Jaemin scrunches his nose, “Well I don’t appreciate the insult and I also hate to admit that no one makes coffee like you do- that’s why I started sneaking out and coming here. Don’t take too much credit though.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk, “For someone who sits on their butt in the palace all day, you sure drink a lot of coffee, you should see a doctor.”

Jaemin smoothes down the fabric of his white vest jacket before covering his face with the scarf again, “My taste buds and stomach lining are perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

Shoving his bucket hat over his eyes, he storms out of the shoppe- leaving you with an amused grin on your face. The next day, Jaemin came once again. You asked him, “one espresso shot coming right up.”

Your fingers nimbly move on the register’s keyboard, a hand flying across it without any thought. You bring Jaemin his espresso cup, setting it down on a dainty white saucer in front of him, “Here’s your black coffee of death. Enjoy.”

You swivel back around, only to be stopped by the sound of Jaemin’s voice, “Hold it. Not so fast.”

“What is it now?”

“I never said I wanted an espresso- it’s a lavender latte kind of day.”

You step closer to him, your eyes widened like disks, “But you didn’t stop me at the counter? You always get an espresso- all black?”

“Not today. Plus, you only assumed and never thought to ask.”

You resist the urge to slap Jaemin square in the face, he was acting like a spoiled, conceited child. You eye him sternly, “Are you going to waste that?”

Jaemin bats his eyelashes at you, swinging the fabric of his scarf over his shoulder, “Well I certainly am not going to have an espresso today. I take that as a yes?”

You feel your eyes roll back into your head, you’re surprised they don’t turn inside out. Grumbling, you march away with the espresso in your hand- dumping it into the sink drain as Jaemin smiles an amused grin. You come back to him, a menu in hand, “What do you want and make the choice good because I won’t do this.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at you, “Isn’t that your job? Customer knows what’s best?”

Scoffing, you smash your fist on the table, “Don’t do this Jaemin or you’ll regret it.”

The pink haired boy narrows his eyes at you through his pretentious sunglasses, “I’d like a lavender latte- make it oat milk. I don’t digest dairy well.” Heading back to the counter, you whip up the drink, layering a mint-berry compote and oat milk as you strategically place a lavender stem at the top of it. You stand back to admire the perfection of the drink, the purple gradient blends into a cloud of white. When you place it onto the table in front of Jaemin, he takes a sip of the drink as you wait for his reaction. He uses his index finger to motion you closer to him, your feet moving on their own.

“Well, how is it?”

A bright smile lights up his face, his white teeth gleaming between his lips, “It’s good but you need to come closer.”

You do as he says, his eyes flickering to your lips- you feel his breath on your face. Is he about to kiss you right now? He darts his eyes from your lips to your eyes. The fast-pace of your heartbeat skyrockets before it ends suddenly, Jaemin smacking his lips before whispering at you, “The oat milk could be a little less nutty.”

You break the tension, launching back from you, “Are you kidding me right now?”

Jaemin gives you a cheshire cat-like grin, “Yes but not to fear, I’ll still drink this since you worked so very hard on it.”

You raise your cloth rag at him, stopping your hand just before the crown of his head- your brows creased with distress. Before this, you had never dealt with such a difficult customer before. Your voice is laced with irritation, “Do you enjoy this?”

“Oh, so very much. I hope you don’t miss me, I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow.”

Grabbing his book sack, Jaemin heads out the door, leaving you alone to be irritated. Like he promises, Jaemin is back the next day. The whole evening after yesterday, you spent taking note of every trap Jaemin would set for you- there was no way he was going to get you this time. When he steps up to the register, you try to sound as polite as possible.

“Welcome to Claudette’s. What would you like to order?”

He nods at you, clicking his tongue at the same time, “Let’s go with the caramel frappuccino, no whipped cream or foam please.”

After he pays, you skillfully make the drink right in front of him, carefully measuring the correct proportions of every ingredient. He places his fingers on his chin, one hand on his hip in a taunting manner, “This is so fascinating to watch y/n. You’re truly the master of beverage arts.” You scoff, pushing the finished drink to him, “Try that.”

When he takes a sip, his eyes sparkle with pleasure as he visibly shudders, “Well, I am pleased to say that you have passed the frappuccino test except for one thing.”

“What now?”

“The straw is upside down.”

You groan, slapping a palm to your forehead, “You’ve got to be kidding me Jaemin.”

Before Jaemin can answer you, you hear a familiar voice from the back of the stock room and you feel a hand sit on your shoulder, “Are you satisfied with miss y/n’s services sir?”

You whip around to be met with Claudette towering above you, her lips graced with a fond smile. Jaemin clears his throat before answering her, “She’s doing great but she’s having so trouble accepting constructive criticism.”

You stare back at him, gritting your teeth, “What are you talking about? I just-”

Claudette pats you on the head, “Maintenant, maintenant petit pan, what do I say?”

Respectfully, you repeat after her, “Customer always knows best.”

Jaemin adds, “I was just telling her that the straw was upside down just so that she doesn’t do this to other customers.”

“Oui Monsieur! Learn from the customer, y/n, it’ll make you a better worker and person.”

Jaemin lets out a hearty laugh from over the rim of his maroon scarf, “Other than that, she’s great.”

Glaring at him, you look up to Claudette who’s smiling at him, “I see that you come almost every day monsieur, thank you for enjoying my shoppe. Merci beaucoup!”

He smiles back at her, “It’s because of y/n.”

You feel your breath hitch at your throat when you hear Jaemin’s words, how can he say things so casually? You want to believe he’s saying these things to get under your skin again, you can’t seem to predict the pattern of his ways.

Claudette practically jumps out of her skin, her hands clapping wildly, “l'amour est dans l'air! Y/n, you need a break right now- let this nice man take you out for some air.”

Waving your hands in front of you, you shake your head at your boss, “Claudette, please. I need to look after the shop in case of more customers and I-”

The older woman cuts you off, “Nonsense! You’ve been working too hard since I’ve been out! You’re done for today! Out!”

Claudette holds out her hand to you to hand over your apron, an amused smile on her face. After you hand it to her, you gather your belongings from the stockroom before breezing past Jaemin out the door. You turn back to Claudette for affirmation, she’s always trying to shoo you out when she thinks you’ve worked for so long. You don’t mind her motherly aura. It makes you miss your own mother. You begin walking down the street towards your apartment, your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Wait up! y/n!”

You turn around to be met with a huffing Jaemin, “Where are you going?”

Sighing, you say, “What does it look like? Home obviously?”

Jaemin holds up a finger so he can catch his breath, were you walking that fast? He says, “Why don't you spend the day with me?”

“Yeah, after you embarrassed me in front of my boss? No way, I’ll pass.”

Turning around, you continue to walk until Jaemin runs in front of you, holding his hands as if he’s going to entrap you if you try to make a run for it, “Please, let me make it up to you.”

You eye Jaemin skeptically, “Why? What would you get out of that?”

“Can you just trust me?”

Scoffing, you try to get more steps in until you’re halted by Jaemin once again, “I promise, if you spend the day with me, I won’t bother you about coffee or upside down straws again!”

You gaze at him, your eyes searching for some malicious sign. When you don’t find any, a smile creeps on to your face, “You better stick to your word Jaemin Na or else!”

The first several minutes of walking next to each other make you cringe from the awkwardness. You steal a glance at Jaemin who’s messing with the rim of his bucket hat, the accessory covering his eyes, “So, where are we going?”

He answers you plainly, “Have you been around the city?”

You rub the back of your neck, “I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been around much.”

He stuffs his scarf into his book bag, the sun too hot for the thick fabric, “No worries, I have a plan. Prepared to be amazed out of your mind.”

You let Jaemin guide you to the plaza of the Louvre, the glass pyramid reflecting the sunlight into a million rainbows. People stand in front of the water structure that it sits on, the water is like a pristine mirror that catches even the most subtle details. You had seen the Louvre in travel books and magazines but never in person, “Are we going to the Louvre?!”

“Nope, that can be for another day. I have something even better.”

Jaemin walks over to a man who stands by a red cart, they converse in basic french before the man hands Jaemin two wristbands. He puts his on, motioning for you to do the same. A big red tourist bus pulls over by the front of the Louvre, “All aboard the passengers! tous à bord du bus!”

Without a second thought, Jaemin takes you by the hand before hosting you onto the bus as you both dash up to the second story of the double-decker. You take a seat at the very front, Jaemin’s shoulder touching yours. You try to wave away the tingle you feel when he brushes against you, his cologne smells of fresh pine needles and mint. A skinny teenager dressed in a striped shirt wears a beret at the top of his head smiles at you, extending a fake rose to you. Hesitantly, you take it while smiling back at him.

“Bienvenue à bord! My name is Pierre and I will be your guide to your journey across the city of love, city of the la romance! Let’s begin!”

Within a few hours, you had already seen so much. You felt like you were on cloud 9 when you stood up on your seat as you passed under the Arc de Triomphe, Jaemin resting his hands on your waist to keep you stable. You don’t resist him. He watches you with adoring eyes, “Look like someone’s having too much fun!”

You look down at him, “How can you not?!”

The bus speeds over the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris that crosses over the Seine, Jaemin pointing out the ducks that float on the banks of it. You laugh as Jaemin takes your rose, putting it in between his lips in order to make you giggle in which you do because he grimaces as a thorn pokes his lip. You swerve with the bus as the driver maneuvers it through Place de la Concorde, the spot where the French Revolution took place. When Pierre told you fun facts about Marie Antoinette, Jaemin would scream at the top of his lungs, his voice getting lost in a blast of wind, “Let them eat cake!!”

When the bus halts at the final stop, you descend down the stairs and off the vehicle- the cool weather sending a chill down your spine. You and Jaemin walk over to the Notre Dame and the Saint Chappele to keep shelter from the blustering winds, the stained glass windows making your faces glow with shades of blues and greens. You sit on a bench, Jaemin’s body pretty much pressed to your body as you both hold a candle between your fingers within the quiet church. Jaemin turns to you, whispering, “So what do you think of Paris?”

You chuckle at him, “Paris is the city of love right? I think I’m in love with Paris, when do we get married?”

Jaemin stiffens his frame, “We as in you and Paris or as in you and I?”

You hit his arm, “No silly! Paris! I don’t want to get married right now!”

Shaking his head, Jaemin laughs at you, tufts of pink sticking out of his bucket slightly. The hat covers less of his face now, at least you can see his eyes.

“What do you say, we get something to eat?”

“You’re right, I’m famished. All that exploring has made me ravenous.”

Jaemin wins at you, “I know just the thing.”

It’s about evening now, the sun starts to set with a shade of champagne and violet- the trees glinting a shade of vermillion green when you pass the numerous cafes and boutiques on the street. You both find yourself in a field under the Eiffel Tower, the structure staring down at you with regality. You feel as if the air in your lungs has been sucked out, blue lights blink along the lattice pattern of the tower- creating a luminescent effect on your vision. Jaemin nudges you with his elbow, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even realize he had been gone since you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful sight in front of you, your head fuzzy from how the gold and blue cut the painted sky. When Jaemin comes back, he sets down a blanket away from the other people- most of them couples- you avert your eyes from them. In his right hand, he holds a basket full of unknown goodies waiting to be eaten. You and Jaemin sit on the blanket before Jaemin reaches into the basket to pull out a multitude of things. He hands you a long baguette of bread before spreading out various shiny fruits, cheeses, and a bottle of blush cider.

“Did you really prepare this all right now?”

Jaemin smiles at you, his eyes softened, “I have my ways.”

For the next hour or so, you feel as if you don’t need any alcohol to feel drunk. You and Jaemin watch the dusk fade into a black sky, stars glimmering over the golden glow that surrounds you. You both nibble on pieces of havarti cheese or opt for a slice of bread as you talk to each other in hushed whispers. You had never done this with anyone before, it felt so easy, so light. You learn about Jaemin’s life as the son of the consuls and how exhausted he is to be expected of perfection every second of his life, how he’s had his freedom stripped from him since he was born. In turn, he listens to you when you talk about your life back home, how your parents almost cut off ties with you- thinking you were foolish to want to randomly move to Paris by yourself. You never regretted your decision after all. You say, “If I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Jaemin laughs, downing his glass of rose blush cider, “This is the first day that I have felt like myself in front of anyone- just me, not perfect Jaemin Na in front of the cameras.”

You nod at him, scarily aware of how close your fingers are to Jaemin’s on the plaid blanket, “Do you have a favorite part about Paris?”

He turns to you, his cheeks and bridges of his nose illuminated by soft golden light, “After living here all my life, I hate to admit that it’s gotten a bit boring. Now, I think that’s changed.”

You quirk an eyebrow up at him, moving your hand away as heat travels up to your cheeks, “And what has changed?”

You see Jaemin laugh to himself, “You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met. You don’t fall at my feet like the other elitists in my family- you’re not afraid to call me out and criticize me. I like that.”

You nervously laugh, “Thank you? I’m not sure what to say.”

Jaemin’s expression turns serious, his lips looking more prominent when he turns his face to you, “Then you don't have to say anything.”

Before you can register, Jaemin leans into you as his nose bumps against yours in a soft kiss. You pull away, boring your eyes into his before he scans your eyes for some sign of refusal. When he can’t find any, he molds his hand to your cheek, folding his lips over your bottom lip. Jaemin speeds up the pace by pressing into you further, a sound escaping your throat. You blush at the noise, Jaemin leaning his forehead into yours before sweeping a hair behind your ear, “Wow.”

Your bodies feel like they sing with electricity, Jaemin’s fingers hot on your skin as he pulls you into the space of his chest. Your ear is pressed to his heartbeat, “Do you hear that y/n?”

You shut your eyes at the quiet rhythm, “I hear it.”

You take it open yourself to edge your fingers on the rim of Jaemin’s hat, slowly taking it off him to reveal the pink shade of his locks- the soft tufts messy from the day. He watches you take off his sunglasses too, placing a hand on his neck while pulling him in for a fiery kiss. His eyelashes extend from his eyelids, framing his dark irises that reflect the Eiffel like swirling stars. He whispers to you, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

You nod at him, standing to help him fold off the blanket and carry the basket. The whole way back, you and Jaemin dance along the walkway of the Seine- to the beat of your hearts, to the beat of the acoustic guitar that echoes from a late-night cafe. Ending right back at your apartment, you don’t want Jaemin to leave just yet. He holds your hands like you’re a fragile porcelain, the warmth of him gentle and soothing. He leans his head against yours, pressing a kiss to the spot in between your eyebrows, “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it Jaemin?”

“This is only if you want to, don’t feel pressured. My parents are holding a masquerade ball at the palace tomorrow night. Do you want to be my date?”

You stare at him, a hand resting on his shoulder, “Oh, Jaemin, I’d love to go with you, there’s just one problem. I didn’t pack a ball gown when I moved.”

Jaemin’s expression is shocked as if he never expected you to say yes, “Really, you’ll come?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Don’t worry about the dress, I’ll take care of it.”

For a final time, Jaemin presses a firm kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow night y/n.”

“Goodnight, Jaemin. Today was perfect.”

“I’m glad. Now, go in first. I won’t leave until you do.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Positive, goodnight y/n.”

In the morning, you wake up the sound of your doorbell ringing. Sleepily, you saunter over to your door, finding a neatly wrapped package on your welcome mat. Unfurling the paper, you hold the delicate satin of a scarlet red dress between your fingers, the softness making you sigh. It’s got billowing belle sleeves that are cuffed with pearls at the wrists, the train of it falls on your hardwood floors. You find a note at the bottom of it, “For the most precious girl, who’s beautiful even without this dress. -Jaemin”

You lay the dress agross your bed, the scarlet organza blending into a shade of fuschia as white sparkles cover the bodice. In awe, you can’t take your eyes off the dress- one thing was for sure, Jaemin had impeccable taste. You had gone to work with a pep in your step- you debriefed Claudette of all the details of seeing the city with Jaemin and how his eyes held every form of adoration. Neither of you had fallen so hard so fast before. You were tingling at the thought of it. Thankfully, Claudette let you off early so you could get ready for the ball, your head filled with the thought of dancing with Jaemin in a fancy ballroom.

Nighttime approached quickly, a jet black limousine had pulled up to the front of your apartment- Jaemin’s voice crackled through your phone speaker when you answered.

“I’m here y/n!”

“Be right down!”

You descended the stairs, your train dragging slightly despite holding it off the ground the best you could. When you came outside, Jaemin’s eyes met yours, his mouth agape from seeing the sight of you, “How is it so possible that someone can be so beautiful?”

Laughing at him, you hug his waist, “You need to stop with all these cheesy compliments, that’s what a boyfriend would say.”

Jaemin smiles into the hollow of your ear, pressing his lips at the shell, “I can make that happen.”

Suddenly, Jaemin pulls out a clear box. It holds a gold band, a white rose attached onto it. You let Jaemin slip it on your wrist before letting him whisk you away into the car. The whole car ride was full of hushed whispers, lips sealing stolen kisses, and bodies pressed together. Out of your time living in Paris, you have never experienced anything like what you felt with Jaemin.

Upon arriving at the Palace of Versailles, it was definitely a castle straight out of a fairytale. Fountains line the garden courtyards as different colored lights shine on the cars that line up in front of the palace, guests piling out of them. A velveteen red carpet was rolled out down the stairs of the entryway, giving off a glamorous effect. Extending his hand, Jaemin held out his arm for you to grab- both of you entering the palace. Over the top couldn’t hold a candle to the real description of how the atmosphere looked. Caterers dished out trays of hand towels and small crackers topped with caviar, desserts dusted with glitter in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. You whisper to Jaemin, “Is your life always like this?”

He chuckles, “Mostly. It gets boring all the time though.”

In the center of the main ballroom is a live band, musicians playing their cellos and their violins in sync with the music as guests dance in a flurry around the floor. You felt your heart sink. You were never taught to properly dance because there wasn’t a reason to learn back home. Jaemin feels you stiffen, “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Nodding slowly, you say, “I don’t know how to dance-”

“Relax, just follow my lead.”

Without a moment to breathe, Jaemin already placed his hand on your waist before guiding you hands to his shoulders. Like walking on air, you glide with Jaemin despite tripping over your feet for the first half of the song- you rest your chin on his shoulder, swaying. You two don’t say anything for a bit, Jaemin’s grip on your body feels secure.You’re interrupted when an older woman who resembles Jaemin taps him on the shoulder, “Honey?”

You feel Jaemin’s arms fall from you, hugging the woman you presume to be his: “Mother?”

“Honey, who’s this?”

Jaemin pulls you to his side, “This is y/n. I’ve been showing her around Paris.”

The woman smiles at you, her hand tucking back a strand that’s fallen from her black braid, “Please to meet you, has my son been treating you well?”

You take her hand firmly, nodding, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Na. Jaemin’s been wonderful to me, he’s been showing me around and telling me good things about-”

“Yes, that sounds great. Jaemin, I need you to come with me- there’s someone your father wants you to meet.”

“Can’t it wait until next week mother?”

Her eyes sharpen coldly, the warmth slipping out of her smile, “Do not disobey your father, come now.”

You hear Jaemin groan before he turns to you as he’s being dragged away, “I’ll be back. Do not move. I mean it- don’t.”

You nod at him confusedly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

You opt to take a seat by the tables where guests pile their plates up with various foods, your eyes watching Jaemin’s mother introduce him to a girl that’s a lot shorter than him, her eyelashes batting at Jaemin. They shake hands as Jaemin’s father and the girl’s father laugh, cheering their flutes of champagne as they converse. Immediately, you feel yourself rise from your seat when the girl launches herself into Jaemin’s arms, his face is riddled with surprise. She smiles up at him, whispering something inaudible as Jaemin’s mother teases them to kiss- Jaemin sternly staring at his mother. Getting up from your chair, you turn back into the nearest hallway, your black slumped against the wall. How could you have been so naive? Did you honestly think that Jaemin could sweep you off your feet like some cheesy romcom and then you’d fall in love with Paris’s it boy? It seemed inconceivable. Around the corner, you hear Jaemin’s voice- you start to run towards where you hear him- only to be met with the sight of the same girl pressing Jaemin up against the wall. Her voice sounds like a slither, “Little birdies are telling me you’ve been running around with some peasant girl that works at some dusty cafe. Didn’t you say you loved me?”

You continue to listen in on them. Jaemin holds her at an arms distance, “That was when I was 4 and didn’t know what the word meant. I don’t see you that way. Aleah, I don’t like you that way.”

She laughs into Jaemin’s shoulders, “Your mother has always adored my family- we’re destined from the start. Don’t turn me away, Jaemin.”

Jaemin shakes his head, “Y/n, isn’t some peasant girl. Just because she’s not like you and your family doesn’t make her a peasant.”

Aleah combs her fingers through Jaemin’s hair, “Sweet little Jaemin, that girl could never give you what I could. She’ll only bring you down. Face it, we’re to be betrothed soon- in the palace, side by side.”

When you don’t hear Jaemin protest or even say a word of refusal, you take off running. You don’t care that the ends of your dress are frayed now, your heels causing blisters on your feet. What felt like a dream has now transformed into a nightmare. You burst through the doorway of the palace, guests shooting you dirty glances when you tell the limousine driver to take you home. As the car dashes out of the courtyard, you hear Jaemin call your name on the steps while tears fall from your eyes. Paris has never looked so melancholy. When you arrive at the doorstep of your apartment, you glare up at the moon- the same moon that Jaemin had kissed you multiple times under. You sit on your stairway, crying into the lap of your dress as your hands fist the layers of fabric tightly. With a screech on the pavement, Jaemin flings himself out of another car- slamming the door behind him. You look at him, shaking your head, “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want-”

He doesn’t listen to your words when he wraps his strong arms around your sunken frame, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You collapse into the crook of his chest, your tears staining his dress shirt. Jaemin tilts your chin to him, “I’m not going to marry Aleah, I hope you know that.”

“What about your mother? She said-”

“I don’t care what she or my father says. I can’t marry someone I don’t like- I don’t love. Not for money, not for status. I won’t.”

“Jaemin, you can’t. You can’t sever from your family because of me-”

He raises his eyebrows, “Who says I’m doing it for you? I’m doing it for myself. I know what my heart says, I know that it chooses you. I’m not doing it for you.”

He takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckle, “I’m going to do it for us.”

When you try to say something else, Jaemin shut you up with a passionate kiss before eyeing you closely, “Let’s go rest for tonight.”

Letting it go, you nod at him. Jaemin picks you up, your dress covering his body as he unlocks your door for you before setting you on the comforter of your bed- your room lights are off, the scent of Paris air drifting in from your open window. The darkness invokes the calmness, you start to kick off the heels that are strapped to your feet. Jaemin sits on your bed next to you, “I’ve never seen your room before.”

His dark eyes scan the wilting peonies that sit on your desk and the ivory walls that surround you both. “Your room suits you.”

You let yourself collapse onto the bed, your head hitting the cool fabric of your blanket, “It took me a while to settle into it.”

Beside you, Jaemin lays down to watch you, his elbow propped up, “I should probably go soon.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Can I?”

You chuckle, “That depends if you want to. Your mom’s probably wondering why you’re with a peasant girl.”

Jaemin clears his throat, “Did you overhear Aleah?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you want to spit out a string of insults about the rich, how they judge people based on money. For Jaemin’s sake, you don't. He parts his lips, “You know that’s not how I see you right?”

Nodding, you whisper, “If you did, I don’t think you’d be next to me right now.”

Immediately, you feel Jaemin hover over you, “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Your bodies burn like flames as you kiss each other hotly, Jaemin’s tongue gliding over yours. You grip his hair, slightly tugging on it so that he lets out a sound- your legs entangled with each other on the bed. Panting, Jaemin tosses his black suit jacket to the ground- you practically yank of his tie. Jaemin drags his lips down to the juncture of your neck, causing him to smirk when you gasp. You bore your eyes into his, “I need you to help me.”

Jaemin seems to understand when he reaches behind your neck to pull the zipper of your dress now, your chest exposed in front of him. In the dark, his eyes glimmer with adoration- his lips connecting with your own. Using your hands, you take his dress shirt off him to reveal his muscular body, his skin glowing under the soft moonlight. You smell the heaviness of Jaemin’s strong cologne, the scent makes you dizzy. By the end of it, your dress lays on the ground by your vanity and Jaemin’s clothes by your wardrobe as you press your cheek to his bare chest, watching him sleep peacefully. Jaemin has his arm on the small of your back, stroking your skin even in his slumber. You take note of how his pink locks are mussed and his eyelashes have a subtle curl from how long they are. Jaemin flicks one eye open, “Y/n? How come you’re not asleep yet?”

You snuggle deeper into him, “It’s because you’re next to me.”

“You’re right- I’m just that good- hey!”

You slap Jaemin’s chest, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, “That’s not why stupid!”

“Then what’s the reason?”

Without any hesitation, you tell him, “I like you and I want to be with you.”

“You’re a tad late y/n. I knew that already.”

“How? I’ve never told you that.”

“I can just feel it. You and I- we have this connection that I’ve never felt with anyone else. The only reason I come to that bakery isn’t only for the espressos. I want to protect you from harm’s way- even if that includes my own family. I just want to be there for you like no other guy can.”

Smiling to yourself, you reach up to pat Jaemin on the head only to have Jaemin’s hand catch yours, you whisper to him, “It’s only been a little while since we met?”

He sinks to your level, meeting your gaze before pressing a kiss to your eyelid, “That’s the beauty of liking someone. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. I just knew when I saw you.”

Giving Jaemin’s hand a firm squeeze, you press the curl of your lips to his knuckles. It makes him chuckle, his smile upturning on his cheeks. Once again, you shift closer to him. You both succumb to sleep, the low occasional honking of beetle cars and soft music from your neighbor’s window as your own Parisian lullaby- Jaemin wrapped in your embrace.

61 notes · View notes

cupcakes4747 · 4 years

Text

Truth Or Dare | one

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: n/a

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff

Laptop. Check. Phone. Check. Supplies. Check. Keys. Where are the keys? You looked around for the keys, trying to quickly find them. After ten minutes of searching, you realized that they were in your hand the entire time. You groaned at yourself and quickly rushed out the door. You didn’t want to be late for your first day at university. You wanted everything to be perfect. Ever since you were in middle school, you have been dreaming of going to this college, and you couldn’t believe you had actually made it. You had all sorts or expectations for college you had been thinking about for years. Studying in aesthetic hipster cafes, getting your own apartment, partying with your friends, and most of all, getting a boyfriend. You were the only person you knew that has never had a boyfriend. All through middle and high school, all of your friends would get a new boyfriend every few months and you would always have to third wheel and watch them make out with each other. They would tell you stories about losing their virginity and how awesome sex was, while you on the other hand had never been asked out, or even kissed. You never understood why; you weren’t unattractive, and there was nothing wrong with your personality, but for some reason, it really hurt your self esteem. You thought that you were undesirable and repelling to boys. But now you were in college. You were older, smarter, and since your awkward phase was over, prettier. And there were a whole bunch of new guys who didn’t know who you were and this was your chance to prove to yourself that you weren’t as undesired as you thought. However, ever since you moved into your dorm three weeks ago, you’ve been having all sorts of bad luck. First, the moving van was two days late, so you had to live in your dorm for two days without any of your stuff. Then, you accidentally clogged the toilet and had to call a plumber who ended up doing a horrible job of fixing it. And then, a few days ago, when you went grocery shopping, you realized at the checkout line that you had forgotten your wallet. You didn’t want to be late for your first day of university on top of all that. You ran as fast as you could to the bus stop and as you checked the time after you sat in the bus, you gave a breath of relief. You were five minutes ahead of schedule.

Making it to class on time, you finally started to calm down. You watched as all the students piled into the lecture hall, looking for someone who seemed friendly enough to introduce yourself to later. Then you made eye contact with the most beautiful boy you have ever seen in your life. He had dark brown hair that fell over his eyes, a tall, muscular build, and that mysterious “bad-boy” look. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. And just your luck, this attractive man happened to sit right next to you. Oh my god, what am I supposed to do? Do I talk to him, or...? Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard him say:

“Wow, I must be in heaven, because I am looking at an angel.” Is this guy flirting with me? You blushed. Nobody had ever flirted with you before. You didn’t know how to react so you just let out a nervous giggle, even though you later on realized that that was the dumbest pick up line ever. The class started and the cute boy kept making sarcastic and funny retorts to everything the professor would say. You found yourself giggling to everything he was saying and you weren’t sure if it was because you genuinely found it funny or just because you thought he was attractive. After class ended, you both formally introduced yourselves and the cute boy, who said his name was Jungkook, asked you if you wanted to go to a party that weekend. You had never been to an official party before; only small get-togethers with your close friends. Everything you knew about frat parties was from the over-exaggerated scenes in college movies.

“Sure, why not,” you said nonchalantly, as if partying was a regular part of your routine and that getting asked to go to a party by a hot guy was an everyday occurrence.

“Great, see you in class tomorrow, Y/N,” Jungkook replied. You beamed as you speed walked out of the lecture hall. This was the most interaction you’ve had with a guy your age other than the weird nerdy kids on the math team back in high school.

When you arrived home, you dashed straight to your closet to figure out what you were going to wear to the party, completely ignoring your pending responsibilities as an adult. How did people dress at college parties? Should you wear something trendy? Something stylish and fashionable? Something cute and innocent? Something sexy? You had never thought of yourself as sexy, but as you were looking at your reflection in the full-length mirror, you realized that your body was not that bad. You worked out consistently and ate healthy, which made you look healthy. And plus, a sexy guy like Jungkook would probably be interested in a sexy girl. You didn’t own any sort of sexy dress, but you knew your roommate had plenty, but she was out somewhere so you couldn’t ask her then. You sighed and decided to get started on your homework.

The next day, you walked into your first class, excited to see Jungkook, but he was nowhere to be found. Disappointed, you sat down at your seat and listened to the professor.

“For our very first project of the school year, we will be doing a partner project where each assigned pair will be assigned a piece of classical literature and have a series of mini-assignments to complete about it,” your professor’s voice boomed across the large lecture hall, “It will be due a month from today.” You groaned internally. You hated partner projects. Either the other person would take control of everything and not let you have any input or say of what goes into the project or the other person would completely slack off and not do anything, leaving you to do all the work. The professor started calling out names of the assigned pairs from his list. Please let my partner be Jungkook, please let my partner be Jungkook. “Y/N and Namjoon, you two will be partners. Please raise your hands.” You raised your hand and looked around the lecture hall for another raised hand. A tall man walked up to you with his hand outstretched.

“Hi, I’m Namjoon, your partner.” You shook his hand and introduced yourself to him. He was almost an entire foot taller than you and could be quite handsome if he didn't dress so dorky. He was wearing a plaid sweater vest on top of a shirt and with pants that did not match at all. Along with that he was wearing a paper-bag brown hat which made him look like a journalist from the 1950s. You appreciated cute dorks since you considered yourself to be one. You both had decided to meet at the library later that day to get started on the project, both of you deciding that it was a bad idea to procrastinate and that it was smartest to start as soon as possible.

Later, in the afternoon, you were walking to the library to meet Namjoon to get started on the project and heard footsteps running up to you.

"Hey, beautiful," Jungkook smirked after he caught up to you. Your heart fluttered.

"What are you doing here? Where were you in class today?" you questioned.

"Oh, I ditched. I was still hungover from a gathering at my friend's place last night. Did I miss anything important?"

"We started a project with assigned partners. I'm meeting him up at the library right now."

"Oh, boring. I'm glad I ditched." You rolled your eyes.

"Anyways, I need to go now. It was nice talking to you, Jungkook."

"Wait, are you still coming to the party on Friday?" Oh my gosh, he remembered!

"Yes, text me the details, please." You told Jungkook your number as he typed it into his phone.

"Okay, cool. I'll let you know everything. Bring your hot friends." You rolled your eyes at him again.

"Yeah, sure. Bye." You didn't know how you were capable of keeping up a causal conversation with an insanely good-looking guy. Usually, when a good-looking guy would approach you, which they rarely did, you would just panic and freeze, and never be able to come up with anything interesting, witty, or funny to say, causing yourself to reply only with one-word answers, making yourself look unconfident. The problem was that you were kind of unconfident. Other people's opinions mattered way too much to you, causing you to revolve your life around how others will react. You knew it was unhealthy, but had no idea how to stop.

Lost in your thoughts, you had already made it to the library.

“Hey there!” Namjoon said. He had already found a table and was ready to go with his laptop open. “I already got a headstart on the assigment. I came up with multiple points of views to analyze this part of the text.”

“Wow, you are really on top of things,” you replied, impressed.

“I already read this back in high school for fun. Although it was a few years ago, I have a general idea about what happens.” And here you were thinking you were the only person of your age group who read classic literature just for fun, but decided against mentioning that you had also read it for fun in high school. Now that you were in a new location where nobody knew who you were, this was a second chance at a first impression. You did not want to be considered a nerd anymore.

You sat down and began reading and discussing the novel with him. Even though you just met him, you found that you really enjoyed working with him. Namjoon had a different perspective than you which made you see the novel in an entirely different way and vice versa. It was refreshing to have a deep conversation about a topic both people enjoy, as most exchanges you’ve had in the past year were just shallow small talk. As you both reflected and discussed, you had breezily finished the assignment in much less time than you anticipated. Perfect. More time to get ready for the party.

“Nice work. We got done really fast. Maybe to speed up this project and get this over with, we can finish the next essay question tonight since it will be fresh in our memory,” stated Namjoon.

“Actually I’m going to a party tonight. Tomorrow maybe?” you said trying to hide the proudness in your voice. You never thought that you would be partying instead of doing homework since it was usually the reverse. You thought he would think that you were super cool and adventurous for partying in the first week of school, since it was something you would have never even contemplated doing in high school. Namjoon, however, seemed unfazed by this.

“All right I’ll just submit mine tonight. You can do yours tomorrow. I’m happy to proofread your work before turning it in if you’d like.” A small part of you was disappointed that he didn’t seem to think anything of it and another small part of you was worried he would think you were irresponsible or a bad student when in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was still nice of him to offer to help you when you knew he was probably busy with other things.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you said gratefully as you packed up your things, “When can you meet up next?”

“How about Sunday evening?”

“Works for me.” You both bid your farewells and went your separate ways, eager to go to your first college party and see Jungkook.

#namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #jungkook smut #bts angst #bts fanfction

21 notes · View notes

joon-ipersgirl · 4 years

Text

O4 - “the cynical contract”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing

a/n: part four is here! this is a lot shorter than i thought it was going to be for some reason. more interactions with the boys and some important conversations. not much else to say except enjoy this part, thank you vi for reading all of my shit, and look out for the next part in 2 weeks! thank youu.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

The beaming Saturday sun burns down on the top of your head as you stand outside of Spiral. It looks almost the same in the day time as it does in the night time, except there’s no line stretching around the corner. Its unlit sign still stands tall as if it’s a lighthouse guiding ships home - if ships were overly stressed people looking for a way to drink their problems away. No one is out on the street as most of the businesses on this particular street operate during the night. You don’t linger and push open the heavy, newly-covered leather door and descend the stairs.

Though it’s high noon outside, the staircase is just as dark as if you’d come in on a Saturday night. The ever-familiar heat is pleasant as you loosen the scarf from your neck. It seems as though Suga is renovating the place. Circular mirrors line the wall and you catch a glimpse of your damp curls in their reflection. You probably should have used a blow dryer. Another heavy door greets you and you heave it open.

“Hey! Watch the new chairs Tae!” Honcho yells as he carries a small table over.

“Yeah, yeah. They’ll be fine!” Tae, the DJ, calls back. His bubblegum pink hair flops as he drops the chairs to the ground.

It seems you’re right. Though much of the layout is still the same, Spiral is taking on a whole new look. The booths have been covered in new leather, black marble tables have replaced the glass ones, and the black tiles are so clear that you can easily see your reflection. The dance floor and bar look very much the same except for some new shelving that you guess were damaged during last month’s commotion. Overall, the design is pretty much the same with a few new touches added here and there.

“If it isn’t our favorite little sharpshooter,” Honcho calls out to you from across the room. You flash him a fake smile.

“Yes. If I do remember correctly, my shooting saved your life so,” you trail off.

“It also cost you a lot of money too. Are you here to repay your debt?” he counters, his grin never leaving his face.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Both men raise their eyebrows. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, it seems as though you still have some work to finish,” you say with a chuckle before making your way to the spiral staircase by the bar.

“Is she always like this?” you hear Tae ask.

“As far as I’ve seen, yes,” Honcho replies.

You grin as you continue up the stairs. The second level has also gone under some renovation as you realize it’s much larger than you’d noticed before. More booths have been added as well as another small dance floor. As you poke your head around the familiar leather door of Suga’s office at the end of the walkway, you realize that it too has been changed into some sort of upper-class VIP room with its own miniature bar. You enter and run your fingers along the smooth bar top surface, the bottles of alcohol lined up neatly on top of it. The books previously housed in the bookshelf have been removed and replaced with various displays of empty bottles of alcohol. An upscale, artistic graveyard if you will.

“Do you like what you see?” You spin around and knock over one of the cute little spiral lamp fixtures on the side table with your open coat. Shit. Min laughs as he leans against the door frame, his smile as bright as ever. “I think that’ll be added to your total,” he chuckles.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance.

“Is that how you always sound when you’re flustered?” He grins as he takes another step into the room. You can feel the blood rise in your cheeks as you try to respond.

“Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I came to see Suga, but I guess this isn’t his office anymore,” you tell him in a huff. Min shakes his head with a smile.

“Mhmm, never really was,” he hums. “We’re redecorating for a new opening. Do you like it?”

He’s in front of you now, the space between you much smaller than it’s ever been and you’re acutely aware of the soft waft of his cologne. Min is unbelievably attractive in a way that was almost ethereal. His silver hair is just as polished and his eyes sparkle even more in the natural sunlight from the large bay windows. The same silver rings adorn his hands as before and you bite your lip hard to not comment on how wonderful his arms look crossed against his chest in his pristine white T-shirt. Squaring your shoulders, you set your jaw stubbornly. You will not fall victim to his airy charms.

“It’s alright,” you lie and shrug your shoulders. “You should probably get rid of the graveyard though,” you say while pointing to the bookcase. Min laughs again.

“It’s a work in progress, Y/N. You’ll come to see my artistic vision eventually,” he says with a smile so alluring, you feel your breath catch in your chest.

“Ah, so you work here now? I was wondering why you were always hanging around,” you comment, trying to stay calm.

“So you’ve noticed me? How sweet,” he murmurs. His fingers brush against your cheek gently and you swallow deeply. “Come on, Kitten. I’ll bring you to Suga.”

He runs his fingers down your arm before slipping his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together. The whole ordeal felt quite intimate and your ears heat up as you follow him out of the room. Instead of walking down the usual walkway, Min makes a left out the door and down a tiny hallway you hadn’t noticed before. He pushes open a smaller leather door, tells you to watch your step, and pulls you up the dark narrow stairs. Was Spiral truly this big?

Min pushes another door open before you’re on what you assume was the third level. Though you know you’d gone further upstairs, it’s just as dark as the lower levels. The hallway is much shorter here and fewer rooms are available. You count a total of three doors as Min drags you towards the one at the furthest end of the hall.

“Are we accepting the Gonzalez’ contract or should we send them a new invoice?”

“Hmm, let me read over it again. There was something I didn’t really like about -” Moon and Suga’s conversation stops abruptly as Min pokes his head around the door, his body shielding you from view.

“Is everything okay?” you hear Moon ask.

“Wonderful actually. Seems like we’ve got a guest to see Suga,” Min replies as he pushes the door open further to reveal you. You smile and send a small wave towards them.

This office is quite similar to its counterpart downstairs; the same large floor to ceiling windows are present along with the large mahogany desk. Instead of only being on one side of the room, two full length bookshelves line the walls. A small wooden coffee table sits in the middle of the room with four leather chairs positioned around it, a bottle of whiskey in the centre accompanied by matching glasses. Though this space seems to be new, it feels significantly more lived in than the one downstairs.

“We did have a meeting, didn’t we Kid?” Suga asks. He sets the iPad down on the desk in front of Moon who’s sitting behind it, his feet propped up as though he’s at home.

“Yes, we did,” you tell him while nodding.

“Seems like Min has grown on you, huh Y/N?” Moon gestures to your hands with a grin. You yank your hand from Min’s grip and step away from him as you stare at Moon with a scowl. Min chuckles beside you seemingly unfazed by your actions.

“Seems like you’re still ever the dickhead, huh Moon?” You plop down in a leather chair and mimic his position, your heavy Doc Martens propped up on the stout wooden table. You stare at each other. Moon’s grin widens as he drops his feet and leans across the desk.

“All for you sweetheart,” he replies. You flash him a fake smile before turning to Suga.

“So, are you going to kick him out of your office so we can talk business or what?” you ask. Min and Moon’s laughter rings out in the room. “I hadn’t realized I had said something funny,” you say with a frown.

“Kid, you can’t just waltz in -”

“- It’s fine, Suga. You did say she had a meeting with you. Business right?” Moon stands up from behind the desk and picks up the iPad. “I’ll drop by your office later about that invoice,” he continues. Suga grunts in acknowledgement before sitting down in the recently vacated chair.

Moon glances at you as he continues towards the door.You can’t help but notice the way the muscles in his thighs flex under his dark wash jeans as he walks. You also try to ignore how broad his chest looks under his white t-shirt and flannel. Glancing up at his face, his eyes meeting yours before he grins down at you again. How have you never noticed his dimples before?

“See you later, Y/N ,” he says while brushing his hand against your shoulder. You tense and he chuckles as he calls for Min to follow him.

“Bye, Kitten,” Min whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek gently. You inhale sharply and hope it wasn't noticeable. “See you later boss!” he calls to Suga before the door closes softly behind them. Gods knew how you were going to survive working with these men.

“Do you let all of your employees sit in your chair?” you ask Suga as you recall Min sitting in it the first time you’d been here.

“Do you have to question absolutely everything you see or hear?” he asks, frustrated. He runs his hands through his hair as he rests his elbows on the desk.

“As a matter of fact, I do. It’s all part of the job,” you tell him with a shrug.

“What’d you come to talk about, Kid? I have a lot of work to get done today,” he says ignoring your question.

“You know you should really dye your hair a different color if you're not going to exude the kind of cheerful happiness that is mint,” you tell him matter-of-factly. You shrug off your coat and drape it across your legs.

“Y/N,” he glares at you. “What do you want?” So much for some friendly banter.

“Okay. I know I have to pay you back for the lights - you’re welcome for saving your life by the way - and so I’ve come up with a proposition,” you explain. Suga raises an eyebrow. “Nothing like that! I was thinking I could work at the club,” you continue.

“Why do you always think someone wants to fuck you, Kid?” Suga chuckles. You stand up abruptly and almost knock the chair over.

“I did not say that!”

“Mhm, but it was implied by your abrupt response. Sit down.” you sit in a small huff. “About your proposition though. That could work. With the remodeling, we’re looking to expand our staff. I won’t make you interview. I’ll have to do some calculations based on what you owe and the number of hours you’re available to work, but it should be fine,” he continues while jotting some notes down on a sheet of paper.

“That’s it?” you ask. This is much easier than you thought it’d be. Suga glances back up at you.

“Yeah. Was there something else you wanted to add?”

“Uh, no. I guess not. Sounds good,” you tell him while standing and grabbing your things. He nods.

“Do me a favor and write your contact info down and then I’ll walk you out. We still have a lot to get done here. ”

You cross the space and take the pen from Suga’s hand, your fingers brushing each other's. As you scribble your name and phone number down, you notice the other stack of papers on the desk. Though you’re trying your best to mind your business - and you know you should since not minding it is the reason you’re currently here - you let your eyes scan over the upside down documents.

It seems to be some sort of form or contract that has numerous details spelled out on the page. You can make out a date in late Spring, a location that’s somewhere on the nicer side of downtown, and the name Jonas on the paper along with some amount of money before it’s covered up by Suga’s arm as he stares at you, his eyes narrowed. You smile at him as innocently as you can before you hand the pen back and straighten up.

“All done!” you tell him cheerily. He nods and jerks his head towards the door, an indication that you should make your way over. You glance back down at the papers before turning on your heel and sweeping your jacket and scarf into your arms.

Suga closes the door behind you and guides you down the dark narrow hallway with his hand on your lower back. You descend the first set of stairs and you glance over the balcony on the second level to see Min and Tae fooling around in between unopened boxes on the dance floor as Honcho and Moon watch on, laughing at their antics. The sound of your boots against the grate floor draws their eyes upwards and you feel a little self conscious under their gazes. Why is it that your confidence always slips around them when you need it the most?

“Did our little sharpshooter pay up, Suga?” Honcho calls as he leans against the bar and stares you down.

“No, but we’ve managed to come to an agreement,” he answers as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“An agreement? She doesn’t really seem like your -”

“Not that type of agreement, dumbass,” you cut Tae off. You yank on your coat, annoyed. And Suga thinks you’re crazy for thinking that people wanted to fuck you?

“Ah, does this one include all of us?” Moon asks and the rest of the guys chuckle. You shoot him the finger and turn back to Suga.

“Now do you see why I had to clarify my proposition earlier?” you exclaim softly. He nods his head with a smile.

“Knock it off guys. You’re making Kitten flustered,” Min says teasingly. You throw your hands up in the air in defeat.

“I give up, my gods! You guys are insufferable. Gods don’t let the hours be too long. I’m not sure how long I can last before I commit my first murder if I have to be around them for hours on end!” you yell in frustration.

“Might be a little too late for that one Kid,” Suga mutters behind you and Moon laughs. You turn to face him again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Look, I’ll text you with all the details about when to come in some time next week -”

“Wait, come in?” Honcho asks. “As in, work here?” he clarifies, his ears almost as red as his dyed hair. You grin feeling the atmosphere shift into your favor. You flip hair over your shoulders and start heading to the door. It seems as if it’s your cue to go.

“You can’t be serious, Suga,” Tae groans and pushes his hands through his hair. The sight of his discomfort puts a little pep in your step as you stop right in front of the door before turning to face them.

“See you boys later! Glad we could work out an agreement!” you laugh as you watch Tae and Honcho’s faces fall at your terrible attempt at a joke before you head out the door and up the main stairs to the outside world.

Though it feels like every time they look at you, you’d melt under their gaze, it feels good to have the upper hand sometimes. You hope you can keep it as there were more than a few events you had questions about and, unbeknownst to those lovely men downstairs, they’re going to help you answer them.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon #namjoon angst #fic: double entendre

22 notes · View notes

irrelevantwriter · 4 years

Text

Acceptance

Pairing: (Dracula BBC) Count Dracula x OFC

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Language, some heavy petting, Dracula (bc he’s lethal to the panties and charming af)

Word Count: 6.4K

Summary: Part 1. Elena meets Count Dracula for a date. This is just the start of their journey together...a journey that Dracula intends to last a lifetime.

AN: Here is a Dracula fic that no one asked for and yet here we are. If you’ve seen my blog, you’ve seen my recent fascination with BBC Dracula and since I cannot be managed, this is the product of such obsession. There are two other parts to this that I will be posting and there’s smut in those so have no fear, Daddy Dracula will be laying down the D bc he def fuuuucks. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.

*Check out part two: Decadence

*Unholy Splendor series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*******************

She pulled the black wool coat tighter around her body, attempting to shield herself from the chilly night air. The streets were still alive with activity, despite the cool temperatures. Every bar and restaurant she passed held the laughing, smiling faces of its patrons. The sight made her optimistic for her own evening.

Her heels clicked against the concrete of the sidewalk as she rounded the corner, dark eyes settling on the place she would be meeting her date. She felt the nerves in her stomach double, the anxiety of meeting someone new making her regret coming out. But one glance across the tables seated behind the glass and she relaxed slightly, eyes finding the man she was meeting in a dimly lit corner.

He was seated against the wall, eyes scanning the bar with a keen interest. His mouth twitched and his fingers thrummed on the surface of the table. He seemed to enjoy people watching. She took a moment longer to observe him without his knowledge, hoping she’d gain something from it. He looked just like his pictures, perhaps even better in person. Perfectly coiffed hair, unblemished white skin, and an air of sophistication and style that made her shiver.

Count Dracula

That was his name. It was odd, but she liked it. It was new and stood out among the many Michael’s, John’s, and Paul’s she’d come to know. She watched as he shook his head at the waiter when offered a menu, apparently not interested in drinking. He adjusted the lapels of his black suit jacket as he leaned back in his chair, eyes never straying far from those around him. He kept off his phone or any other gadget, instead choosing to occupy his time with taking in his surroundings.

Another refreshing tidbit about the mysterious man.

So far she liked what she saw and the nerves for a possible train-wreck of a date soon turned into nerves that it could be a possible success instead.

The thought made her dig in her clutch for her mirror, suddenly self-conscious. She double-checked her makeup, ensuring her face was still pristinely painted. Her raven hair was a bit windblown, but it still held the curl she’d spent an hour trying to achieve. She shut the compact, pleased to see that all of her hard work hadn’t been erased by the elements. It had been drizzling off and on, the night bathed in a permanent haze. It was gloomy and not the best conditions for an outing, but she’d kept her plans anyway. A notion that seemed like a bad idea at the time, but now she found herself simmering with anticipation.

Eyes as dark and limitless as the sky found hers suddenly, startling her. A wave of heated embarrassment flushed through her at the thought of getting caught appraising her appearance. Dracula only smirked, somehow silently beckoning her towards him. She stepped forward into the entryway and let the warmth of the space wash over her. She made her way to the corner, aware that he watched her the entire time. It was intimidating, but not off-putting.

He stood as she approached, his frame much taller than she’d expected. Even in her heels he towered over her, the grace of a gentleman behind his movements. He extended a hand towards her and helped her maneuver the last few tables, finally reaching the empty chair across from him. His touch was cool and smooth, the sensation feeling odd against her own hand.

“Elena?” He asked in a devastatingly handsome accent. It was a question, but he already knew the answer.

“Dracula?” She returned in the same tone, smiling coyly up at him. He chuckled in response, his thumb moving over the top of her hand in a delicate arch. The action made an involuntary shiver travel up her spine. It was imperceptible, but she could swear that he caught the motion. His eyes and lips showed his amusement as he released her hand and pulled out her chair for her.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in the flesh.” He said, moving to help her with her coat. She laughed and nodded as his fingers grazed her shoulders, pulling the wool from her body and hanging it from the back of her chair. Even though she was fully covered, something about his touch made her feel naked. And it wasn’t a feeling she was opposed to, surprisingly.

“Likewise.” She agreed, settling into her seat. His scent filled her nostrils, the smell tingling her senses. It was a unique aroma. He smelled like the rainy night mixed with cologne and something else…something distinct but untraceable to her.

He helped her push in her chair and then seemed to glide back to his own. His all black ensemble was impeccably tailored to his body, the straight lines and creases of the smooth material making him appear statuesque, noble even. They made quite the pair. A couple dressed in black in a dark corner. The mystique of it was enthralling. Something she’d never experienced before on a first date, maybe even ever.

“If I can say, you are more exquisite in person.” His eyes danced over her face and down her covered neck, stopping at where her pulse was hidden beneath the turtle neck.

Elena averted her gaze down, suddenly bashful by his compliment. She was a grown woman, capable of living life without the validation of men, but sitting across from Dracula made her shy away like a school girl while silently begging for more. He was a man of old-fashion charm and she was eating it up like a starved animal. Her mind spoke through the haze, but the woman inside her who longed to be doted on spoke louder, preening for her suitor.

“Quite the flatterer I see…” She teased, crossing her legs. His eyes tracked the movement, licking his lips when he caught a glimpse of her bare flesh. She, in turn, followed him with her eyes, giving herself a moment to study his face. She found the subtle lines of his face beyond attractive, the stories they told speaking to his distinguished age.

“No flattery from me, my dear. I never tell a lie.” He said with a sly smile, inviting her to believe his words and hold his gaze.

So she did.

For the next two hours.

Conversation came easy, laughter was plentiful. She found Dracula to be quite intelligent, his views on various topics surprising her. He was rather interested in her and her life, the steady stream of questions proving so. He observed her, listening to her speak with a curiosity akin to that of a child’s. He was fascinated by her work, puzzled by the idea of someone being so comfortable around the dead. Being a medical examiner was her passion and she hadn’t mind talking about it. Most people were just as confused by her choice, but there was always an underlying tone of disgust. Dracula didn’t possess that. Instead, he seemed to be in awe of her, frightened and infatuated. A combination that pleased her.

“I’m gathering it’s about time for us to leave.” He announced, taking note of the now near empty establishment.

Elena agreed, aware that the staff was politely waiting for them to finish so that they could close up for the night. The time had passed quickly, almost as if they’d been in a vacuum. She couldn’t recall anyone or anything…just him. It had been only the two of them.

They both stood, him assisting her with her coat again as they made their way out. The air was crisp and cold, the droplets of fallen rain covering the streets. There was a fog that still lingered. The sight should’ve been menacing, the perfect setting for a horror story. But it held a quiet beauty that she now admired as she walked with Dracula. Neither of them seemed to be in a rush to end the evening, their unhurried steps a testament to the fact.

She craned her neck up to look at him as they walked, taking in the way he embraced the night. He didn’t even appear to be affected by the cold. His arm brushed hers and he looked down, meeting her stare. He stopped suddenly, turning to face her. She felt her pulse jump as he stepped closer, hovering so close and yet not close enough. His hand barely cradled her face, not giving her a chance to revel in it before he was moving, shifting a strand of hair off her forehead. His long fingers traced down her neck, his palm flattening against the black fabric of her turtleneck. The dress was perfect for both the freezing temperatures and the date. It encased her in a high neck, long sleeves, and a hem that stopped at her knees, the material molding to her curves like honey.

“Are you cold?” He whispered, apparently taking note of the way she shuddered. His stare cascaded over the open front of her coat, once again taking in her feminine form. His hand continued to soothe across her neck and collarbone, the barrier between their flesh doing nothing to ease the lustrous heat that now burned between them.

“No.” Elena replied softly, finding herself angling her neck towards him. His fingers dipped below the turtleneck, pulling the material down and exposing her skin. Her heartbeat quickened and her breathing accelerated as he bent down and burrowed his nose against her. He inhaled deeply, attempting to suffocate in her scent. His other hand rested at her hip, locking her against him.

“You smell divine.” He breathed, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her long hair created a curtain around him as he trailed his lips across her, goosebumps appearing instantly.

She clung to his jacket, acutely aware that they were still standing in the middle of the street. She anticipated a car or person to interrupt them, but it never happened. Once again it was just the two of them. No one else existed and no one else mattered in that moment.

Suddenly, Dracula was gone. His touch disappeared from her body entirely, not even the ghost of it lingered. Elena blinked away the haze and found him with his back to her, his hand outstretched towards her slightly. She thought she heard a grunt of pain come from his lips, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Dracula, are you alright?” She asked, stepping forward. He faced her, his face devoid of any of the discomfort she’d thought she’d heard from him.

His eyes were glued to her neck, watching as if he was afraid of something. Elena looked down, catching a glimpse of gold. The necklace her father had given her peeked out from the turtleneck, the diamond cross she knew to be hanging from it still concealed by the fabric of her dress. She tucked it back in, patting the piece of jewelry affectionately. He seemed to ease at her actions, his body releasing the tension he’d become twisted by.

“I’m fine, my dear. I seemed to have been hit with an unexpected ache.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, smiling kindly down at her. He could see the slight traces of worry in her face and he stepped forward, tipping her chin up. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

She felt that rush again at his close proximity. His touch felt different this time though. Less sure, less aggressive. She found herself longing for the confidence of his previous touch, longing for the addictive pull that seared itself onto her skin. His thumb traced over her lips, his blackened orbs taking them in with a longing that matched her own.

“I’d like to see you again, Elena.” He confessed.

She smiled, letting her palms rest flat against his chest. “I’d like that.”

He was pleased with her response, letting his finger trace over her mouth one more time before pulling away.

“Are you alright to make the trip home?”

She nodded, fastening her coat. “My car’s parked just over there.” She pointed to the lot lit up by street lamps.

He followed her arm, nodding in approval. “Good. Can never be too careful at this time of night.”

Elena faltered at what to say next, hoping that there would be a next time. It was almost unexplainable how much she craved to be in his presence. She’d just met him, hardly knew the man and yet she found it difficult to part from him. It was a completely foreign feeling and something she wasn’t entirely sure how to manage.

“I had a wonderful time.”

“Me too.” She mirrored, tensing when he slowly leaned down into her personal space. She wondered if he was going to kiss her. The thought excited her, made the stirrings of arousal come around again.

Instead, Dracula planted a tender kiss to her forehead. His cool lips still managed to electrify her heated skin, the gesture barely a fraction of the intimacy she suddenly craved from him.

“Goodnight, my dear. I will be seeing you soon.”

“Goodnight, Dracula.” She whispered, stepping backwards in the direction of her car. He only watched her, eyes never leaving her as she passed through the darkness. She could feel his stare on her as she walked, the intensity making her feel scorched. His eyes burned her more than his touch did, his true thoughts somehow bleeding into his gaze and radiating onto her. She couldn’t read them, his thoughts, but she knew he wanted her. He wanted her in a way she’d never been desired before. She knew that much. And she knew she didn’t want to shy away from it either.

She took one last glance over her shoulder before she settled into her car. The man was gone, no trace of him left behind.

*****************************************************

Dracula growled as he drained the last vestiges of life from the woman, her alabaster complexion now stained crimson from the gaping hole in her neck. Her body finally held still, her twitching limbs now silenced. The strong pulse that had lured him in now ceased, the beat of her heart now belonging to him.

He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, the aftertaste not as pleasing as he’d hoped. The entire meal had been done in hopes of satiating a hunger that had practically overwhelmed him. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in quite some time. Elena’s scent, her alluring flavor had consumed him without having to break her beautiful skin. He’d been ready to take her there in the street, ready to make her his own. The sudden appearance of the crucifix around her neck had put a stop to his insatiable appetite. It was a test of his self-control and restraint, a feeling he hadn’t had to fight with in months. Since awakening in modern times, Dracula had to work hard on being in public. There was hardly a place that laid deserted anymore, even at night. People were always out and what was once an arena of solitude for him was now a buffet. It was quite an adjustment, but one he’d taken on and overcome.

Technology had allowed him to refine his hunting skills, to select his meals with a specificity that had been missing for centuries before. It both delighted and disappointed him. Some things were far too easy, including feeding. The woman he’d chosen tonight had been eager to have him accompany her home. He hadn’t done much beyond charming her, not seeking any redeemable qualities. This was just about satiating a thirst. Nothing more.

He stood up, leaving her drained body on the floor of her bedroom. She was young and beautiful, though nothing like the woman he’d spent a majority of his time with tonight. He found himself thinking fondly of her, the forbidden fruit. He realized how he could use this to his advantage, dangle the innocence in front of himself. It would be torture, but after hundreds of years he also knew that torture had a way of transforming into pleasure. And Dracula most definitely wanted to keep Elena around to fulfill that pleasure.

The streets were quiet as he walked home, full but not satisfied after his spontaneous feeding. He thought more on his sudden plan, a plan to unite Elena with him in eternity. She would make an astounding bride, one he could be proud of. That hadn’t been the original plan, but after bathing himself in her scent and aura, he wanted her by his side. Her ease with the undead intrigued him. A beauty who was in love with the beasts…it was a romantic idea. And it was one he hoped he could monopolize on. If he had it his way, Elena would knowingly give her consent, something he’d never had before. There was potential there and he was going to harvest it. He had nothing but time.

******************************************************************

“Make your way to the back. I’ll be here.”

Elena read the message as she walked up to the restaurant, though the place barely looked open. There were no lights on or neon sign to alert potential customers. It was a simple building with a painted on name across the top of the arched doorway.

Mezzanote

The windows were covered by what appeared to be heavy curtains, the smallest glimpse of orange light shining through a break in the fabric. She hesitated with entering the establishment, unsure of a place she’d never heard of. But she thought of the man she was meeting. They’d had a few dates in recent weeks and her attraction to him was getting stronger by the day. They hadn’t kissed yet, barely touching much at all, but it didn’t seem to matter. He consumed her, a constant presence in her thoughts and dreams. Especially in her dreams, ravaging her body in such a way that was too overpowering for her dormant mind and body. She’d wake up in a cold sweat, feeling the coolness wash over her as if he’d been in her room with her. She’d even gotten up to check her home, but found no evidence of him there, least not physically.

Elena shook herself from her thoughts and stepped forward, too infatuated with the man she’d come to know as Dracula to walk away. It felt like something had ensnared her, unwilling to let her be. She understood that her life was forever going to be changed after making this mysterious man’s acquaintance. It already had.

“Miss, may I take your coat?” The waiter asked as she walked through the door. He was an older gentleman with white hair, his smile kind as he extended a hand towards her.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” She allowed him to help her remove it while she tried to take in the interior of the restaurant. Her eyes scanned the dark walls, portrait paintings of noblemen and women adorning the space. Large wooden tables with white table cloths sat empty and untouched. The entire place reminded her of another moment in time, perhaps even another century.

She was just about to ask about her date when she met his eyes across the room, the table in the far back. He stood and smiled upon seeing her, his hand beckoning her forward. Elena moved towards him, feeling like a fish on a hook as he brought her in. Her previous anxieties seemed to dissipate once she set eyes on him. All she cared about, all she was concerned with was Dracula.

“My dear Elena, you look ravishing.” He praised, hand reaching for hers instantly. She complied with his silent request, watching as he brought her hand to his mouth. He kept eye contact with her, kissing the back of her hand with a cold touch.

“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Now who’s the flatter?” He retorted with a sly grin and a wink. She laughed and allowed him to assist her in getting comfortable in her seat.

“Touché.”

His fingertips grazed her naked shoulders, before dancing in her hair. Elena melted into the touch, leaning back and into him. She closed her eyes, getting lost in the way he caressed her hair to one side, exposing her neck. The dress she’d chosen sat off-the-shoulder, the burgundy material encasing her breasts to reveal a hint of cleavage.

“I have something for you.” He whispered into her ear, eliciting a shiver. He moved around to his chair that sat across from her and took a seat, reaching into his coat pocket.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She said in surprise, a faint blush already blooming on her cheeks. She watched as he pulled out a black velvet box and slid it over the table cloth and to her. Her eyes widened slightly at the implication of what lay inside. Dracula only smiled in pleased silence as she lifted the lid, revealing a beautiful gold necklace with a diamond encrusted crescent moon and a star attached. It was stunning and looked to be quite expensive.

“Do you like it?” He asked after a moment, taking in her stunned silence.

“Its gorgeous.” She finally replied, running a delicate finger over the small pendant. He stood and came to her side, taking it from the box for her.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to her neck. She nodded, scooping her hair up so that he could put it on her.

His cold hands felt amazing against her heated skin as he clasped the necklace. He let his hands linger a moment before he pulled them away and went back to his chair, his eyes never leaving the moon and star that now sat just above her cleavage. She stared down at the gift in awe, running her fingertips over it repeatedly.

“Magnificent.”

Elena smiled shyly back at him, the reverence in his voice not lost on her. “I-I don’t know what to say…thank you.” She stammered, still in disbelief at his generosity.

“You are quite welcome, my dear.” Dracula sent a charming smile her way, sending a rush of heat to her core. It wasn’t the first time the man had provoked such a carnal response from her body. It was becoming a common occurrence when in his company.

“Would you like something to drink?” The waiter broke the moment, addressing her as he gestured to the empty wine glass before her.

She noticed the deep red liquid that filled Dracula’s glass and she nodded, pointing to his beverage. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

A beat passed in which the waiter looked to Dracula, as if for approval. It was odd, but over before she could think much on it. Dracula nodded and waved his hand, wordlessly telling the man what he needed to know.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” He said once the waiter left them.

“No, though I’m surprised I’ve never heard of it before. It’s so close to my home.” She said, taking in more of her surroundings as she did. More portraits of men and women of centuries passed decorated the walls, the occasional knick-knack breaking up the art. The entire restaurant was lowly lit, candles and matte bulbs being the only source of light. The place was completely empty aside from them.

“Are we the only ones here?”

“Yes.” He replied simply, gaze straying to her chest.

“Is that normal?”

Dracula leaned back in his chair. Even sitting down he towered over her. “I’ve known the owner for many years. I made an arrangement.” He replied casually.

“Do you always buy your dates expensive gifts and arrange intimate dinners in restaurants?” She arched a manicured brow at him in challenge, a playful smirk pulling at her lips.

“Absolutely not.” He said with a chuckle. He turned serious an instant later, ensuring their matching brown gazes were locked. “You are the exception.”

Elena felt that warmth that had settled inside her start to spread at his words. The man was enchanting. The atmosphere he created was grand, always tinted with mystique and soft intensity. It was indefinable and yet she couldn’t deny herself the possibility of trying to figure it out…figure him out.

“You look lost in thought.” Dracula commented, pulling her from her thoughts. The waiter came back with a bottle of red wine, filling her glass as she thanked him.

“Just trying to understand you.” She admitted, hoping the statement didn’t offend him.

He laughed instead, seemingly entertained by her words. “Understand me how?”

“Usually men who cater to women in such a way want something in return.” She was blunt, not bothering to be subtle as she openly questioned his motives. She sipped from her wine glass as he leant forward, his features unreadable.

“I’m not like the men of this generation, my dear. I’ll think you find that to be true as we get to know each other better.” He raised a finger to her lips, dabbing softly at the corner of her mouth where a drop of red wine sat.

She remained motionless, unwilling to break the spell. For whatever reason, she believed him. And so far, he was right. He was unlike any man she’d been with…any person for that matter.

“I can’t wait.” She whispered with a lick of her lips once he’d pulled away. The heat that exchanged between them across the table was palpable and Elena knew she was going to pursue this, no matter the outcome.

***************************************************************

Dracula laughed as he walked down the darkened street with Elena attached to his arm. They’d left the restaurant an hour ago, the remainder of their time spent walking the night as he escorted her home. He enjoyed talking to her. She was the kind of company he needed. He’d grown tired of having those around him that hung on his every word, their obsession with him no longer enjoyable. For the first time in hundreds of years, he longed for a challenge. He yearned for the intellectual debates, the matching of wits, and the subtle allure that Elena seemed to possess. It’d taken him many years and many lifetimes, but he felt as if he’d finally found the perfect mate.

His eyes caught the glint of the necklace he’d gifted her, his mouth salivating at the sight. The necklace had been a calculated move. They’d had dates since their first, and each time he’d been lucky enough to not be exposed to the cross she’d initially worn. He’d been pleased, but he knew he ran a risk each time, so he bought the necklace weeks ago. The necklace symbolized more than a means of protection from the symbol of purity he despised. It signified her becoming his, the dark now following her everywhere. And though she would wear his mark for a short time, her immortal body would be unmarred and pristine. The necklace would continue to mark her, continue to label her as a creature of the night with him. It was his parting gift. A symbol of his fondness for her.

He’d kept it in his pocket just in case, but hadn’t needed it. Tonight though, the gesture felt right as he watched her walk into the restaurant. She was a spectacular specimen and he was finding it more difficult to control himself the more they spent time together. Her scent was enough to make his eyes roll to the back of his head, her pulse strong enough that he could sometimes feel it echoing in his ears. He longed to deliver the kiss of a vampire to her, to place her in a cocoon of serenity. She’d beg him for more. They always did. And he was sure he’d be unable to deny such a plea from her lips.

“Here we are.” She announced suddenly, stopping at the stoop of a brick townhouse.

“Lovely.” He said as he appraised the well-kept yard, noting the smattering of potted plants and flowers. He gazed down at her, seeing the barely concealed nerves she possessed start to surface.

“Would you like to come in?” She finally asked, her teeth biting into her lip anxiously. He found the habit endearing because she had no idea just the kind of power she held over him.

“Of course.”

She nodded, leading him up the stairs as she removed her keys from her purse. He stood behind her, eyes shifting to the street for any lingering threats. The area was deserted. He could feel her body heat radiating onto him and he had to admit that he stepped a fraction of a step closer, letting it bathe him in a warmth he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“Come in.” She said once she’d unlocked the door. He did so happily, stepping over the threshold as he took in her home. It was a nice place, clean and well-decorated. It had feminine touches, but nothing over the top. It embodied her spirit well.

Her scent was everywhere and it was making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else. He watched as she took off her coat and hung it on a hook. She gestured to his own and he did the same, handing it over to her. She grabbed his hand and led him further into her home, turning on lamps as she went.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked, making her way to the kitchen as she spoke.

“I’m alright. Thank you.” He replied. He assumed she would pour a glass of something for herself, but instead she grabbed a bottle of water. He was pleased by the choice, not one for tasting the bitterness of alcohol in one’s bloodstream. He’d noticed she hadn’t drank very much at the restaurant either.

“Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the sofa, coming around to join him. He did so, crossing his legs as she removed her heels and pulled her feet up, sitting close but not enough to be touching.

“Your home is charming. It suits you.”

“Thank you. I love it here.”

He listened to the way she spoke fondly of her abode, the sound brining a rare genuine smile to his face. He focused on the necklace still seated comfortably along her chest, the pendant rising and falling with her breaths. It was a mesmerizing thing to watch. He found he could sit and observe her breaths for hours if she’d let him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, really touch her. He’d held back on participating in any real physical contact for fear that he’d lose himself in the sensations. But now, he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to test the boundaries he’d laid for himself. He wanted to see how far she’d let him go and how far he’d let himself take her.

“This also suits you nicely.” He remarked, lifting a hand to her cleavage and trailing it across the gold chain. He felt the flesh under his touch shiver, though she didn’t pull away. He took a step further and scooted closer, facing her fully now. She only looked on as he cradled her neck in his palm like he’d done so many times before, feeling her pulse start to race. The idea of her heart beating so fast made his pants feel tighter, his blood lust turning into lust of the flesh.

“Is this okay?” He asked, mouth near her ear as he nibbled at her lobe.

“Yes.” Elena breathed out, eyes closed in surrender. His hand trailed down her neck, stopping just short of her breasts before continuing on, palming the soft mounds with ease. She arched into his touch, a gasp leaving her lips as he caressed her.

“Is this?” He asked once again, feeling how pliable she already was under his touch. There was no trace of hesitation or tension in her limbs. And with his keen senses, he could practically smell her arousal, hear the blood starting to rush to the apex of her thighs, anticipating his entrance.

“Yes…” She moaned, angling her neck so that his mouth had better access. Dracula licked and sucked, his teeth barely grazing the surface, but he could still taste her. She was water to a man in the desert. She was the most delectable fruit and her blood was the nectar he needed to survive.

“Kiss me.” She softly demanded, fixing her black gaze on him. Her lips were parted, her breath coming out in quick pants. She was looking up at him through lashes that screamed of feminine innocence. It was a deadly combination and one he was not strong enough to say no to.

He moved in slowly, bringing her forward slightly as he connected their lips. His hands tangled in her hair, enjoying the way the soft tresses felt in his grasp. He kept the pace slow, almost gentle. He knew she’d be confused by the extreme effects, her mind and body suddenly shrouded in heaviness. He felt her relax more against his hold, but her lips still moved with his, her tongue daring his to join hers. So he did.

“Dracula,” She called when he’d pulled away. Her eyes were heavy, but not closed. Her brow was creased, confusion clear on her features. Her hands held onto the lapels of his suit jacket, keeping herself upright.

“The kiss of a vampire has an opioid effect. It’ll wear off soon.” He informed her, pushing a strand of hair off her face.

“Vampire?” She asked, eyes searching his face.

“Yes, my dear. I am a vampire.”

He studied her face closely. Her reaction was slow, but visible. She blinked rapidly, straightening her back as she tried to disconnect herself from him. He easily overpowered her lethargic limbs, keeping her in his arms. She didn’t put up a struggle, though that could’ve been the lingering effects of the kiss still.

“A real vampire? Like you suck blood?”

He chuckled at her questions. Her face was scrunched into an adorable expression as she fought to clear her head against the fog.

“Yes, that is part of it.” He supplied, letting his finger dance along the trim of her dress and the delicious dip of her cleavage. She accepted the touch, settling into his arms once again.

“What’s the other parts?” She dared to ask. Her boldness was attractive, her will strong like her beating heart.

“I’m going to taste you.” He whispered against her lips, catching the delicate moan she released. “Drink you over time. Make you last.” He touched his lips to hers again, but didn’t try to progress the kiss any further. He needed her to remain somewhat coherent. “And then I’m going to make you my bride.”

Elena stared at him for a long moment, her palms flat against his chest. The moment that recognition hit her, he could see it splashed across her features, her eyes going to his unmoving chest.

“You’re not breathing…” There was panic in her tone while her hands searched his upper torso for that elusive thrum of life. “There’s no heartbeat either.”

“I told you, my dear. I’m a vampire. We possess no such thing.” He soothed, enjoying the frantic touch of her hands on his body too much. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Used to it? You aren’t going to kill me?” She asked dazed. It was clear that the sudden revelation and the haze of his kiss still had a hold on her. But even with it all, she wasn’t panicking. Her pulse remained steady. And what he found most interesting of all was that her aroused state only heightened, her aroma practically eclipsing her natural scent.

“Oh, my darling Elena…I’m going to give you life.” He assured her, tapping on the flesh of her neck. “Will you let me do that?”

He could see the reluctance in her face, see the real fear that lived beneath the surface. He wasn’t surprised by it. But she was a different pedigree than the mortals he’d propositioned before. And he knew she’d join him. He’d have it no other way.

“Will it hurt?”

Dracula grinned at her, pleased with her gradual acceptance. “No, I won’t let it.” He said as he bent down to the crook of her neck and moved the chain of her necklace up and out of the way. “You give your consent then? Give your consent for me to take a part of you and carry it with me forever?”

Her agreeance was an important factor to him. It made the blood of those taste so much better, their flavor tailored just for him. It was the addiction he’d been seeking for years and only one in every hundred years seem to materialize. He was going to savor Elena, savor every aspect of her. And then, when she had joined him in eternity, he was going to have her fully.

“Yes.”

He growled and felt the beast start to take hold. The predator began to emerge as his eyes became laser-focused on her pulsing neck, his fangs appearing as saliva filled his mouth. He embedded himself into the smoothness of her flesh, feeling the overwhelming spill of iron splash his tongue and lips. She tasted better than he’d imagined. She was sweet and savory, tickling his taste buds and fueling his insatiable appetite. The immediate gratification hit his insides, sending him soaring with adrenaline. She became one with him as he lapped at her, careful not to overdo it. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands as his lips pulled from her. A moan penetrated the air, the sound like the finest symphony he’d ever heard.

He reunited with her in the place he’d sent her, the red tinted sky illuminating the dead trees that surrounded them. She looked frightened and he immediately reached for her hands, soothing her with his touch.

“Am I dead?” She asked, eyes trying to take in her surroundings.

“No, my dear. You’re with me.” He cradled her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze. She seemed to calm at his touch, her lips lifting in a slight smile.

“You’re drinking my blood.” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head slightly, her body leaning heavily into his.

“Yes.” He confirmed, caressing her cheek and coercing her to open her eyes. “Are you in pain?” He asked, searching her features for any sign of discomfort.

“No. It feels…amazing.”

Dracula grinned as she blinked up at him, her words making him feel more alive than he had in the past five hundred years.

“Come, darling…” He reached for her hand, pulling her gently with him. “I’ve got so much more in store for my future bride.”

101 notes · View notes

dramioneasks · 5 years

Text

HP FESTS: TheMourningMadam’s Fests

Once Upon A Time 2019:

The Witch of Oak Woods by whispersofday - M, WIP - Trying to restore his family name and protect his mother, Draco Malfoy will align himself with the Dark Lord. When he is forced to escape with his school rivals, the reticent group will uncover a darkness even Lord Voldemort failed to realize.

The Snow Garden by bbcherrytomato - not rated, WIP - Hermione Granger, seeking to escape her career frustrations and failed relationships eagerly accepts a seemingly run-of-the-mill, out-of-town assignment. What she finds instead is a deep connection to a mysterious man and a place that holds unimaginable secrets to her past.

The Hunter and the Nightingale by TheImperfectionista - E, 10 chapters - After the Second Wizarding World War, defected Death Eaters were allowed to repent for their crimes as fugitive hunters of remaining Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy took up the role, but the toll on his body has led him to seek the anonymous healer known as the Nightingale.

The Fair Hermione by RESimon - E, one-shot - Draco was seven the first time he snuck in to visit her.He had grown up hearing about “The Fair Hermione” at almost every gathering with the Dark Lord. They’d all waited for her seventh birthday to arrive, constantly whispering about how so she could join him and take up her rightful place under his Lordship’s wing.No Hogwarts, No Prophecy, No Horcruxes, Voldemort stays in power AU

The Princess of Triton by gracediamondsfear - M, WIP - Tom Riddle's Ship of Oddities sails the seas, pulling in to various ports and letting the townsfolk peruse the menagerie of creatures and collectibles held below decks. With the help of his assistant, the orphan wizard Draco Malfoy, they manage to pull in an actual mermaid and put her on display. Draco takes pity on the mermaid and works to find a spell to turn her human and set her free. However these spells take time and as they grow closer and Hermione sees how the human world treats magic creatures, she isn't quite sure she wants to be human after all.But maybe there's another path for these two lovers to find their way?Inspired by The Little Mermaid and a little bit by Splash :)

Mirror|Mirror by otterlyardent - T, WIP - Tortured by recent events in her life, Hermione desires an escape from her unjust and cruel world. After finding what she seeks in an unexpected place, the witch will have to decide: is her life worth returning to or should she stay where the pain of loss is lessened?If Draco Malfoy has anything to say about it, she'll find she can have both. With him.

Eventide by TattooedWriter - T, WIP - When Dumbledore decides Hermione will be a more effective chess piece if she's completely out of play, he sends her to an Order safehouse on the Canadian coast. The opportunity to research and strategize appeals to her, but the partner Dumbledore assigns....does not.Based (LOOSELY) on the Canadian First Nations tale "The Boy of the Red Twilight Sky."

The Isle of Morsmordre by SaintDionysus - T, WIP - The quiet, mousy girl with no friends and nothing but books to keep her company, dreamt of quests and magic. Now, Hermione Granger is the prisoner of a mad immortal and his band of lost boys. Inspired by Peter Pan. Dramione. Non-HEA.

Questioning Curiosity by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns - T, one-shot - Hermione had to investigate things for herself, and it only left her with more questions.

All Men Kill The Thing They Hate (Unless It Kills Them First) by fandomfairytales - E, 4 chapters - Sitting in a bleak hospital waiting room, pretending no news was the same as good news, while her heart continued to tear itself into tiny pieces with each minute that passed; Hermione Granger-Malfoy let herself wonder how her life had descended into such madness.Everything had seemed fine on the surface, not a hint of peril on the horizon; her life was everything she could have dreamed and more, a perfect fairy tale. But, apparently, life saw fit to cast a sinister shadow over the happiness she had fought tooth and nail to earn, and it was looking more and more like she’d be robbed of a happy ending.

familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8 - E, one-shot - “You are at St. Mungo’s. You were in a coma.” He looks me over again, taking a pause. “I am a Healer here now,” he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I’ve thrown mud at him.Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, “What’s your name?”

Hooked by In_Dreams - M, 2 chapters - After Draco Malfoy helps her out of a bind, Hermione decides to repay the favour when he is in need. Written for the Dramione Fairytale Fest, and loosely based on the Brothers Grimm fairytale, The Fisherman and his Wife.

Lured into the Light by PotionChemist - M, 16 chapters - Harry Potter died at the Battle of Hogwarts, and the war has raged on for three years. Draco Malfoy has been living as a Death Eater, surrounded by the darkness Voldemort brought into his life. However, one night, he receives an owl with an item that could potentially change his life... if he's willing to take the risk.**WARNING: Implied non-con. It is not explicitly described, so I didn't tag it as non-con.**Loosely based on The Fairy Comb, a Greek fairytale.

A Lily in White by MaraudingManaged - M, WIP - "He loved her. He loved her. Hermione Granger: this sharp, beautiful, whip-smart and powerful girl who happened to love him too. He, with the Dark Mark and painful bigotry. He with too many sins to bear - she loved him too.An impossible romance told in snapshots, in days, in moments; a story of love in the midst of the worst war the wizarding world has ever seen, and what might happen if two people make simple, but very different, choices.

Pebbles and Crumbs by GaeilgeRua - T, one-shot - A retelling of Hansel and Gretel. Draco and Hermione have to find ways to survive the forest and their stepmother's treachery.

The Contest Bride by CharmedMistletoe - T, 8 chapters - Hermione has been presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity to prove herself a worthy wife for a Malfoy heir

The Legend of The Lost Mermaid by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - Story telling is a dying art. What happens when a young witch tells a story.

Daddy's Baby & Grandfather's Plight by writerspassion18 , G, WIP - Draco loves his son, Alex, even under the circumstances. As those circumstances rear their ugly head in the form of one Artemis Nott, Draco and his wife will do anything to keep Alex safe and in Malfoy family hands.

How to Date an Idiotic Pureblood Wizard by bionically - T, one-shot - Hermione just knows Draco's up to something in the Ministry-mandated Muggle Awareness Class. She's not going to let him, not if it's going to interfere with her plans to take over the world, starting with one Pureblood at a time.Crackfic tribute to My Immortal. Read at your own risk.

Matters of The Heart by sleepygrimm - T, WIP - A heartless prince..He is very much stoic to a point pitiful. He knows love and happiness and tries his best to reciprocate but it ends with him struggling. Can a cursed prince discover love from a muggle Miss.

Side Effects by Disenchantedglow - M, one-shot - When Draco is enchanted after a run in with an old woman, he must deal with the side effects of turning to elemental magic to help him break the curse.

The Ice Maiden by islandpooka - M, WIP - Think of a snowier, feminine Pinocchio meets Cinderella story. A mysterious witch no one knows attracts the attentions of a devil-may-care aristocrat.

The Disappearing Woman by starryangelz72 - G, one-shot - Inspired by "The Glass Coffin" by the Grimm Brothers.When Draco saved Hermione from falling, little did he know it would set off a series of events that would have him searching for her in a distant world.

Finding Home by crochetaway - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger finds herself homeless on the streets of London. A stranger takes a chance on her, which is all she needs to get her life back on track.

Lost and Found by Kyonomiko - M, 8 chapters - Paired off and trapped in a ridiculous assignment, Hermione Granger is at the mercy of Draco Malfoy's sense of heroics and chivalry. She might be in for a long wait. Then again, every ferret has his day.

A Bedtime Story by CuppaTea90 - G, one-shot - It's storytime at the Malfoy's, only Hermione wants to finish it her way.

Caught in Flagrante by ruthy4vrsmoaked - E, one-shot - Scorpius and Lyra Malfoy ask mummy and daddy to tell their romantic story aka How Draco fell in love with Hermione and became her hero. Or aka how the Malfoy Crest Ring became a Hermione-Mood Ring. Or aka how Hermione uplifted Draco's broody mood.

L'Oiseau d'Or by Ephsbell - not rated, WIP - Harry Potter is in a coma. What's left of the Order needs a miracle. Hermione Granger believes she's found it and sets off to Avalon, hopefully, to save the day. At the same time, Voldemort wanting immortality sends a weary Draco Malfoy to retrieve the same treasure. Things might seem simple at first but a pesky prophecy and a bird soon complicate Hermione and Draco's straightforward task. WIP. PS The non-con is very much in the background.

The Loving Pair by pixiedustandbluebutterflies - M, WIP - When Draco was eventually assigned to the Department of Muggle Relations as part of his parole, he intended to show up for his required amount of hours, prove that he wasn’t a threat to society, and avoid interacting with his coworkers as much as possible.Draco never intended to actually enjoy the work or the time he spent with the newly hired Junior Associate - Hermione Granger.

Tell Me a Story by jalapeno_jazz - G, WIP - Draco is absolutely, completely wrapped around his daughter's finger. He knows it. She knows it. And she knows that he knows that she knows it.

East of the Sun West of the Moon by savedprincess85 - T, WIP - Draco has become cursed-into a huge white bear. Only Hermione can help him to break the curse. But they have a journey ahead of them before they can break it.

Rituals and Roses by QuinTalon - T, one-shot - Narcissa Malfoy has been suffering from a mysterious illness for years and it seems time is running out. Desperate to save her, Draco reaches out to a witch who may be his last hope. Could Hermione Granger be the key to saving her?

Slytherin Into Fate by Rosella_Burgundy - E, 2 chapters - As they work on a new case, Draco and Hermione find themselves caught up in a lust potion incident. When Hermione finds out who's to blame she takes revenge on them.

On the Wings of a Dove by BoredRavenvlaw620 - T, 19 chapters - The war changed Draco Malfoy. Doesn't he deserve a happily ever after?Inspired by the Fairy tale, "The Gypsy Queen"

comma; by kanames_harisen - T, WIP - Granger gives him the coldest glare he's ever seen."The only one responsible for Ron's death was the wizard who cursed him, and that man is rotting in Azkaban, soulless from the Kiss." For a moment, she stays like that, as hard and immovable as granite. Then she sighs and her face softens. "But if you need my forgiveness to move on, you have it. I forgive you, Draco Malfoy, for whatever part you think you played in my husband's death."

Rampion by grace_lou_freebush - E, 3 chapters - Dramione short story based off Rapunzel by the Brothers Grimm for The Mourning Madam's Once Upon a Time Dramione Fairy Tale Fest.Hermione is separated from Harry and Ron at the skirmish at Malfoy Manor, and to keep her properly imprisoned, Bellatrix locks her in a tower. What happens when Draco happens upon her, and how can she escape?

A Fool off His Guard by HollyBrianne - G, one-shot - Fairy tale prompt: Arabian Nights/Aladdin While on the horcrux hunt, Hermione alone is caught by snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor

Heaven Has Made You Lovely by NuclearNik - T, one-shot - She watched Draco rock slowly back and forth where he stood next to the bed, their newborn cradled in his arms. He pressed his lips to her peach fuzz forehead and when he lifted his head, his eyes were shiny.

Two Desks Apart by msmerlin - T, 6 chapters - Draco used routine to work through his emotional baggage post-war, using a strict set of rules to regulate his once out of control life. His parents and friends express concern over his stagnant life in the form of setting him up on blind dates in hopes of helping Draco find 'the one'. Little did they all know, the witch who captured his heart had been just two desk apart from him for the past two years.

The Stallion in the Forest by GracefulLioness - G, one-shot - After falling asleep while reading in the forest, Hermione gets lost after dark and stumbles upon a curious man living alone in a hut deep in the woods. But nothing is as it seems in this forest. She will soon discover that the man, the hut, and his beautiful stallion hold more secrets than she ever thought imaginable.

Water Lily by RooOJoy - G, one-shot - A retelling of the fairy tale, The Story of a Mother by Hans Christian Anderson.". . . Draco reached out and felt the soft petals of what he could tell was a water lily. He lightly ran his hands over the plant in an attempt to familiarize himself with it, and frowned when he could feel the limp flowers droop heavily in his palm. The scent that wafted gloriously from the flower made his heart ache in need of his wife. He inhaled deeply, and instantly felt as though his face was buried in the crook of her neck, her curls tickling his skin."

His Healing Touch by articcat621 - E, one-shot - Hermione isn't quite sure how she'll get through this, but Draco assures her that they'll do it together.

All That Is Beautiful by CindyBarnard - T, one-shot - For TheMourningMadam's Once Upon A Time Fest. Perhaps Hermione should have never left that castle... at least she had been safely oblivious to the outside world. Yet loneliness drove her out to find something beautiful, to find her lost friends. What she found instead was beyond her worse imaginings.

Twisted by CourtingInsanity - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger knows Draco Malfoy is responsible for the death of her Mother and Grandmother, and even though she hasn't seen him in years, she will stop at nothing to enact her revenge.

Magic Is Real by BiscuitsForPotter - G, one-shot - When eight year-old Hermione wanders into the woods on her way home from school and stumbles upon a strange boy there, she makes an astonishing discovery: magic is real. But that's just the beginning. Written for TheMourningMadam's Fairy Tale Fest; Based on "Käthchen and the Kobold."

His Salvation by Imotales - not rated. 8 chapters - A lost boy. A golden girl. The story of self destruction, a story of rebuilding. Sometimes lost ones can be shown the path of life if they find someone to hold light for them.

The Potions Mouse by Misdemeanor1331 - T, 6 chapters - One spring day, Potions Professor Draco Malfoy saved a precarious mouse from certain death. Little did he know that this small act of kindness would solve a ten-year mystery and change his life forever.

The Witch of Wiltshire by Art3misiA - E, 7 chapters - Nobody in Hermione's village knows she and her parents are magical.They live a quiet life until she meets one Draco Malfoy, and unwittingly invokes a jealousy in Ron Weasley that will set off a dire chain of events.

The Muggleborn and the Pea by LadyKenz347 - M, one-shot - In an attempt to charm Draco's parents, Hermione pretends to come from a Pureblood family for an evening. Narcissa has her own means of uncovering the truth.Spin on Princess and the Pea for The Mourning Madame's Once Upon a Time Fest.No Voldy AU

The Star Child by TriDogMom - M, one-shot - no summary

The Dragon and His Mother by HufflepuffMommy - M, one-shot - The trio find themselves trapped at Malfoy Manor, but an unlikely accomplice helps them escape. Together, the four of them figure out how to get the last of the Horcruxes and end the war once and for all.

This fest is ongoing.

#themourningmadam's fests #Fests/Exchanges/Challenges

64 notes · View notes

xiaoyu---ling · 4 years

Text

KBTBB: The Dragon’s Minx

As much as I love Soryu's MC in KBTBB and that I think he and his MC are absolutely perfect for each other, I've always entertained the thought of what if his MC was a total badass. Very much independent and capable, yet a mysterious cheery woman. Oftentimes in KBTBB any female character that isn't friends with MC or MC herself is a diabolical bitch in some way shape or form. So I've created an OC that sorta combines the MCs from KBTBB, MK, and OPHR enjoy!! (I tried my best to stay true to existing characters)

Roughly 15 pages

words: 6, 984

The warm rays of the setting sun cast an orange light over the lounge of the penthouse. As the guys and I discuss the next upcoming auction. I gaze out the window and listen quietly. Things have been hectic, to say the least at the office. The Underworld has been more chaotic as usual and it's been keeping the Ice Dragons on our feet, not that I can't handle it--it's just a pain...

"Soryu, you went over the items and the list the other day didn't you?" Eisuke asks, drawing my attention back to the meeting.

"Yes, all of the merchandise is in perfect condition and nothing seemed out of the ordinary," I reply while flipping through the list once more. We discuss the order of how the items should be auctioned off and the meeting eventually comes to a close.

"That's enough of that," Baba says while pulling out of deck of cards. "C'mon let's relax this evening!" he urges with a smile on his face and Kishi sighs loudly.

"Imma hit the hay," he huffs on a cigarette while falling back on the couch he's on. Eisuke ignores Baba and begins typing away on his laptop,

"Count me out too," Ota adds patronizingly as I start getting up. Baba dramatically covers his mouth and pretends to cry and looks at (Y/N). (Y/N) smiles wryly and shyly shakes her head.

"No thank you, Baba. Oh, I'll make some tea for everyone!" she announces and gets up as Ota bursts out laughing.

"Hahaha, even (Y/N) rejected you!" he mocks and Baba sighs loudly. (Y/N) starts asking who would like what to drink and I make my way towards the door.

"Oh, Soryu are you leaving?" she calls to me and I nod without looking back. I leave the lounge and call Samejima to pick me up. I don't particularly mind (Y/N), she was bought two years ago at the auction after a series of unfortunate events and now her and Eisuke are in a relationship. We don't talk all that much, though I don't have anything against her. I was assigned as her body guard a few times and she's rather polite. There's just not a reason for me to converse with her often. The cold night air hits my skin as I exit the hotel and approach the car Samejima is in.

"Evening, Boss." he greets me as I get in. Smoothly driving to the office, the car ride starts off quiet and peaceful. "Boss, I have some information Inui and I acquired earlier," he states while briefly making eye contact with me through the mirror.

"What is it?" I ask as i stare out the window.

"Well a fairly new group, known as the Dynamic Duo, has been causing a buzz through a number of Mafias in just three nights. It's almost like they appeared out of thin air." The Dynamic Duo, huh? I've never heard of them. Could it be their new arrival is the reason the Underworld has been out of control lately?

"What have other groups rumored about them so far?" Samejima opens his mouth to speak but his radio cuts him off by another one of my men.

"Samejima? Samejima, are you there!" the voice calls frantically with noise in the background. It's Inui. I naturally reach forward and pick up the radio.

"It's Soryu, what's the matter Inui?" I calmly ask him through the device.

"Sir! We've been ambushed! Some of the guys and I were doing the weapon exchange that we discussed earlier, then they attacked-- You bastard! I'll get you for that!" he yells, cutting himself off. A wave of adrenaline rushes through me, but I quickly regain composure.

"Inui, we're on our way. I'll bring more men. Hold them off until back up arrives, you understand me?" a series of static and gunshots and footsteps answer back before a cut out "Yes sir!" rings back. "Samejima!" I bark and he floors it, while I radio some more Dragon's to go to the exchange location. We finally make it to the alley the, now traitor, gang insisted on meeting at. I lead the way as a group of my men follow. The action still hasn't died down. Sounds of bullets, footsteps, and the shouts of men echoes around the corner. We pass the van, raided of all it's possessions, and a few blood puddles. My heart beat quickens, that better not be my men's blood. I grip my gun and suddenly all the noise stops. Silence hangs in the air and my pulse accelerates dramatically. The group and I finally turn the corner with our guns ready.

"Sir!" Inui calls to us and I sigh.

"Inui... What is this?" I ask exasperatedly as I slowly lower my gun, the other Dragons following suit. The traitor gang lays unconscious and scattered about the ground with blood and wounds covering them. "Get up and explain yourselves!" I command at my men sitting on the ground. They look down at themselves and realize that the rope around them isn't even tied.

"WHAAAAA?" the lot of them exclaim and I shake my head and cock my gun.

"I said explain yourselves." I hiss irritably and they all bow in unison.

"Sir!!! I swear we were out numbered and they tied us up!" Inui explains frantically

"Yeah! Then a man and woman came out of no where and took all of them on themselves!" another Dragon chimes in. A man and woman? Just the two of them took on twenty men?

"They must have untied us before leaving!" another one of my men add and chaos soon breaks out over my seemingly bewildered subordinates. I sigh and raise my voice again.

"Quiet!" I shout and in an instant all of them look up at me and pipe down. "If this all happened why didn't you radio in again? Seems like these mysterious two did all the dirty work for you." I inquire and they look down shamefully.

"The radio was destroyed during the commotion--"

"Wait look!" one of the back ups interrupt Inui and bring me a note and broken radio. The note is written in beautiful calligraphy and it reads, "Sorry about the radio. We hope us saving you makes up for it- The Dynamic Duo" I read aloud in disbelief. A moment of silence hangs over us and I heave another brief sigh. "I want you lot to make a full report about what happened tonight we'll discuss this tomorrow afternoon," I order my men and they all nod.

"Yes, Boss!"

"Inui come with Samejima and I," I say while turning my back and start walking towards exit of the alley. "You lot do as much research as you can on this 'Dynamic Duo' I have to know whether or not they'll be a threat to the Ice Dragons." I command the rest of my men. "You call the police and get out of here." I say as i get into the car with Samejima and Inui.

"Yes, Boss!" the all say one last time before we take off.

"Sir! I'm so sorry! I should have been more prepared!" Inui instantly apologizes as soon as the car door closes.

"Idiot, not so loud. Boss is probably tired from all this." Samejima snaps and Inui looks spitefull and guilty. Just as he's about to reply, I say,

"Inui tell me what happened back there." he looks at me, and shakes his head while furrowing his brows.

"It was all so fast. The exchange was going smoothly till one of those bastards pulled out their gun and shot, then there were bullets and fists being thrown. A swarm of more of those cowards urged in and over powered us. They took all the weapons and tied us up. Suddenly a woman came and started fighting them and a man joined her shortly after. Then they easily took care of all of those brats. The woman and man smiled and bowed to us before booking it out of there just as you showed up." he explains enthusiastically.

"That doesn't quite make sense. Why didn't Samejima, the other Dragons, and I see them exit the alley on our way in?" I ask skeptically. Inui shakes his head, and looks me in the eye.

"They climbed the walls and ran on the top of the buildings." the car suddenly jerks and I hear coughing from Samejima.

"That sounds like total ninja nonsense!" he remarks doubtfully.

"Say that again!" Inui yells and balls his hands into fists.

"That's enough!" they stop immediately and reluctantly apologize. I sigh and come to a decision. "While it's hard to believe, I'll take your word for it." I say and Inui smiles proudly.

"I'd never lie to you, Sir!" he responds happily.

"What did they look like?" Samejima asks quietly as we get closer to the office.

"Well it was hard to get a good look at them but the woman is gorgeous!" Inui says dreamily as if remembering the moment. "The man looks a lot like her. Like they are both very attractive! You should have seen it, Sir!" his eyes sparkle as he describes them.

"Inui." I hiss and he snaps out of it, shaking his head.

"Sorry, Sir..." he hangs his head, embarrassed.

"What do you mean they look alike?" I ask and cross my arms. I have a feeling I shouldn't underestimate these two individuals. Especially if they're capable of handling that many people in that short time frame.

"Well, they both had white hair and the man's eyes looked so dark it was like his irises were completely black. Though I probably didn't see it right..." he says hesitantly.

"White hair? Did they look older in age?" I ask half in disbelief and half out of surprise.

"Not really, the woman looked around Mr. Kisaki or (Y/N)'s age, and she's slightly shorter than (Y/N) too." now this just seems impossible. How could a person take on someone twice their size? Multiple people twice their size for that matter... "The man was about your height and he seemed fairly young too." Inui adds as an afterthought.

"Did the woman have the same eye color as the man?" Samejima asks curiously.

"Well..." Inui hesitates. "Again I might of seen it incorrectly, but I'm sure she had two different eye colors. One of her eyes was dark like the man's and the other was purple." he slowly explains.

"Purple?" Samejima inquires in disbelief. I don't blame him. That's quite the strange eye and hair color perhaps it was a shade of dark blue? "Are you sure it was purple? You didn't mistakenly see it?"

"I can't say for one hundred percent but I'm sure it was purple!" Inui replies wholeheartedly. I don't think he's lying but this whole thing is bewildering to say the least. The car finally parks in front of the office and we all unbuckle and start heading inside.

"Is there anything else about them that stood out?" I ask once more as we enter the building. Everyone is going about, leaving to speak with connections, some on computers, and some are going through existing files.

"Oh, yes!" Inui exclaims and Samejima and I stare at him expectantly. "Either of them had bandages wrapped around some of their body parts. The woman had bandages on her left forearm and right knee. The man had bandages wrapped around his right forearm and neck," He explains and I nod at him.

"Okay, get working on that report Inui." I command and he enthusiastically nods at me. "As for everyone else, we don't have any time to waste. Let's take care of what happened tonight!." I bark loudly over my busy men.

"Yes Sir!" they respond in unison and the next few days at the office have been hectic.

A few days pass and we've taken care of that traitor gang, but we haven't gotten very far with the Dynamic Duo. After going through everyone's reports about what happened it wasn't much different from what Inui told Samejima and I. They each explained what happened and provided a brief description of what the two looked like. It all pretty much matched Inui's explanation, some saying the woman had a set of one eye color, the majority witnessed two different colors. They all said they had white hair and their physique wasn't very strong looking or out of the ordinary. Many reported the bandages they had, but what something that increased my bewilderment were the weapons they used. The woman used a staff like weapon with a blade on either side, and the man used a set of twin daggers. Not only did these two take on a group of gangsters on their own, but they manage to dodge their bullets and overpower them without projectiles. The more I find out about these two, the more cautious I become. The only information we could gather through connections and the Underworld is that they're siblings, which would explain their similar features. The woman is a genius scientist and the man is a chemist. The both of them have made their way through very prestigious schools, it's said no one really considered considered them students and they frequently transferred. One of the most influential and ruthless mafias with branches all around the world made a statement that reported these two were the youngest executives they've ever had. They suddenly went missing for five years and reappeared as the infamous Dynamic Duo. A sigh tumbles between my lips as I toss the report I was reading on my desk. I don't even know why I'm worrying so much over these two strangers, but if they're gaining this much influence over the Underworld in this short amount of time I shouldn't brush them off. Suddenly my phone rings and the contact name reads as "Eisuke."

"Hello, is there something wrong? The auction isn't for a few more hours," I answer as I casually check the time.

"Change in plans. Antonio Bucci decided to make an appearance in Japan to visit an old friend that's rumored to be at the hotel later," he explains with an annoyed tone.

"Tch, alright I'm on my way," I reply and hang up. When Eisuke bought (Y/N) the Ice Dragons made a connection with the Bucci Mafia. It wouldn't look good if I didn't welcome Bucci especially since I'm one of Eisuke's connections as well. I leave the office and start driving to the hotel.

As I enter the lounge, small talk and laughter flood my ears. Energetic as usual, I think to myself while approaching the guys drinking on the couch. Antonio and his daughter are already here? Well that was fast...

"Oh, Soryu is that you?" screeches Carolina loudly. That's right, Eisuke managed to burden me with her silly little crush when he bought (Y/N). Gritting my teeth, I nod at her politely, and briefly bow to her.

"I hope you'll excuse my tardiness," I say while slowly switching eye contact from Carolina to Antonio. Damn I hate her. Antonio's smile stretches further across his face as he reaches towards my outstretched hand.

"Of course! I take it the Underworld's abnormal activity has thrown you through a loop as well?" he laughs while huffing away on his cigar. Perhaps he knows something about the Dynamic Duo, I'll have to discuss that with him later.

"Well, I suppose you could say something like that," I reply and Eisuke crosses his arms in interest.

"I've heard a thing or two about that," he starts with a smirk. "a few of the new participants tonight are rumored to be quite influential. I'll have to thank the Underworld's energy for that."

"Yeah, many of the items are especially valuable or rare, well more so than usual," Ota says with an amused look in his eyes.

"Have you guys heard about that one group stirring most of the ruckus?" Baba inquires aloud. "What was it? Oh right! 'The Dynamic Duo.'" so he's heard of them too? Kishi, who hasn't been showing must interest, is now listening with the rest of us. "They seem pretty mysterious, seems like no one knows anything about them."

"The Dynamic Duo?" (Y/N) asks to no one in particular.

"A party of two causin' a big buzz in the Underworld. They appeared out of no where and there's just 'bout no info on them 'xept they're dangerous," Kishi mutters sleepily.

"Well actual Daddy and I--" Carolina starts to say, but Antonio cuts her off.

"Damn, I lost track of time. My friends said they'd be in the casino around this time. I'd hate to cut this short, but I can't miss them," Antonio says while getting up from the sofa.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're the man of the hour. We'll take you there." Eisuke says while rising too. The group and I head to the busy casino floor and instantly Antonio's eyes begin scanning the room. "I've never seen you look so frantic before," Eisuke starts with an amused tone. "Just who are these friends of yours?"

"My friend, they're something to witness with your own eyes," Antonio replies with a chuckle. The other guys and I casually look around the room, then something catches my eyes. A large crowd is gathered around a poker table and at the same time, Carolina says,

"Daddy! It's them!" she points over to the crowd and Antonio hurriedly makes his way over. The others and I follow suit, slowly making it to the front of the crowd alongside an energetic Antonio. He really needs to pull himself together, that kind of behavior is humiliating for a mafia boss. I think to myself, then the soft ring of a soft yet rich feminine voice catches my attention.

"Sorry, but we fold," she says almost mockingly as she tosses her cards on the table to reveal them. She crosses her arms with a pleased look plastered on her fairly above average face. The opponent, an older burly man, groans irritably--yet he still looks pleasantly amused. My eyes widen as I stare at the two triumphant poker players. It's them, the Dynamic Duo.

"Aha! No ones been able to squeeze a penny out of either of you all night," he says with fascination defining his tone. "Surely there's some kind of ace up your sleeve," he excitedly asks. The woman smiles brightly and shakes her head.

"I guess lady luck is on our side tonight," she suggests coyly while tucking a strand of her long wavy hair behind her ear. Her white locks were pulled into a half up do and a large black bow held it in place. Meanwhile the man had his brushed off haphazardly to the side. The both of them were neatly dressed, in fact, they almost matched each other. Everything Inui told me about their appearance is true. Their eye color and bandages are exactly as he suggested. The woman has on a black skirt with white lace at the bottom around her tiny waist. A white dress shirt that puffed at her shoulder covered her top half and black cuffs wrapped around the end of her sleeve. The man has on a monochrome outfit too. Black pants, a white dress shirt with the sleeves folded to his mid forearm, and black leather cuffs around his biceps as well. Something that stood out though was the identical black bow either of them have at the center of their collar. In the center of their bow was a dark red plus that looked a lot like a northern star.

"I want to test my chances against them!" an onlooker shouts enthusiastically.

"Yeah me too!" another adds and the crowd breaks into chaos. Suddenly the man looks at the woman and nods, she nods back, and the both of them rise. Hm, how interesting with a simple gesture or look they can tell what the other is thinking. They were definitely counting cards, which I admit is an impressive skill to have.

"We'd love to stay longer though it seems all good things must come to an end," the man says solemnly in a charming tone of voice.

"What? Surely you'll stay a bit longer?" whines an onlooker.

"Yes, please stay! I was looking forward to playing against one of you!" chimes someone else as Antonio starts walking away with Carolina following.

"Thank you all for such an exciting afternoon we really had so much fun!" his partner cheers as she clasps her hands together and bows to the crowd. "Perhaps you'll find us here again another time, and we can all relive such a wonderful moment." her delightful voice carries through the crowd and small agreements and cheers run through the wave of people. The two start walking towards the direction Antonio took off in, walking right past Eisuke, I, and the others.

"Excuse me, sir and miss?" Eisuke suddenly beckons politely. They turn around with kind smiles on their faces.

"Yes?" the man answers curiously. This Is my chance to discuss that night with them.

"I know you have to be elsewhere, but wouldn't be a shame if you and your poker partner forget the 'prizes' you've won tonight?" Eisuke asks while gesturing back to the table. Stacks and stacks of the casino's most valuable chips tower in all its glory.

"Yes, It would be a shame for all the time you spent here was all for nothing," I add, in hopes to create my opening. The two, before Eisuke and I, look at each other and smile.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," the woman slowly says, while gently shaking her head. "Do forgive us, but this was just for fun," she explains with a dazzling smile, leaving the casino floor in a state of shock. Just what are these two plotting? Silence fills the room and Eisuke is first to break it.

"Do you mean to say you don't want the chips you won?"

"Yes, that's exactly right," the woman answers back sweetly. "Oh! I'm so sorry, would that be a problem? We'd hate to cause any trouble."

"Of course not," Eisuke reassures. "We'll just--"

"Oh, I have an idea," says the man, not noticing he cut Eisuke off, he walks past me and approaches the crowd, who are still invested in the dilemma. "We're so sorry for any inconvenience, though my sister and I have no need for all these chips. We simply enjoy the gamble. If all the formidable players we've won against would please come forward and reclaim their chips we'd greatly appreciate it," he announces gracefully as a few people step toward the poker table, hesitant to reclaim what they've lost. "Ah, in fact, my sister and I have acquired quite a bit of chips before beginning our gamble this afternoon, under the impression we would lose them. Alas, we have no choice but to leave our fate up to you," he continues elegantly and suddenly a group of croupiers begin dispersing a handful of the same chips to each onlooker still lingering about. The man makes his way back to us, and smiles as he swiftly bows to either of us. "This is acceptable, no?" Eisuke's mouth quirks up at the corner in a shocked smile. The room is quiet while everyone awaits for his "go ahead" as the hotel owner. Personally, I find this rather reckless, though he is cornered in this decision.

"I don't see why not." he brightly smiles back at the man and the casino bursts in cheers. He take the opportunity and casually introduces himself. "Eisuke Ichinomiya, it's a pleasure to meet you." he shouts over the cheers of the noisy casino floor.

"Orion Ida, 'tis a pleasure to meet you too," he replies as the woman walks over to her brother's side.

"And I'm Vega Ida," the woman adds while bowing. She flashes a smile at me and Eisuke as the others saunter over.

"That was quite the stunt you pulled. I'm Mitsunari Baba," Baba cheers while reaching his hand out to Orion and Vega.

"It's a pleasure... Aren't you Ota Kisaki?" Orion cocks an eyebrow while nodding at him.

"You've heard of me?" he asks with his signature grin.

"I knew someone who was infatuated with your work," Orion replies withe a nostalgic glint in his eyes. Knew? Was? How interesting. The guys and Orion continue to talk as Vega wavers closer to me. This is the same person from that night. I can't let my guard down around her. She looks up at me politely and offers a friendly grin.

"Hey, what are your names?" she asks curiously, addressing KIshi and I. Before either of us could speak, a piercing voice answers instead.

"This is Soryu Oh and he's mine!" Carolina says loudly and grabs onto my arm. "This here is Mamoru Kishi," she gestures. Vega's friendly expression fades and a vague smile replaces it as I shakes off Carolina's grip. Never have I considered raising my hand against a woman, until I met Carolina. "My, you're always so cold and stoic, Soryu!" she screeches.

"Perhaps it's because you're invading his personal space..." Vega mutters while starring at Carolina. Her eyes really are different. Her right eye is a very dark brown, almost black, and her left eye is a bright purple.

"Carolina!" Antonio shouts aggravatingly. "Didn't I tell you to wait over there?" he gestures behind him with a dark smile framing his lips as he approaches the group. Orion and Vega turn to look at Antonio and their faces light up.

"Antonio!" either sibling greets happily while walking over to him. They both briefly hug him with smiles on their lips. "We were worried we wouldn't see you tonight. It was utterly boring until we saw you in the crowd." Vega says as Orion nods his head slightly. I can't tell if they genuinely mean that or if they're sucking up.

"I'm flattered! As soon as I heard you and your brother would be in Japan, I just had to see you two again!" he replies happily while heartily patting Orion's back.

"Sorry, again, about the last minute notice. Who knew my sister and I would come back to Japan?" Orion laughs as the other two join in. The guys and I gradually walk over to them and it's like Antonio completely forgot we exist.

"Where are my manners? You've introduced yourselves to Eisuke and the lot, yes?" Antonio asks with a large smile on his face.

"More or less. Eisuke, you own the hotel don't you? I can tell a significant amount of time was put into the casino. The strategic placement of all these gambles is very well done. They provide an easy walk way for guests, but since they're scattered about the room the temptation grows the more they walk through the room." Vega comments while her eyes scan the room. Eisuke offers a pleasant smile along with the rest of the guys.

"You didn't strike me as someone who dabbles in architecture and advertisement," Eisuke replies with a smug look. Vega shakes her head as Orion and Antonio cough up a knowing chuckle.

"Not at all." she looks up at Eisuke and smiles. "Humans are relatively simple, no? The thrill of betting their life away is a pleasure they just can't pass up. So, the more that temptation is shoved in their face, the more likely they'll indulge themselves, right?" a wicked look paints over her pretty face as a strange blush dusts over her cheeks. Her eyes sparkle as she nonchalantly observes everyone gambling the chips her and Orion handed away. Just as Eisuke is about to respond Antonio and Orion bellow out an amused laugh.

"Vega. you shouldn't say such scary things y'know? People will think you're off your rocker, if you keep that up." Orion says while patting his sister's head endearingly. What a strange pair, maybe I gave them too much credit?

"Oh surely not! They're big boys that thrive in a dangerous Wonderland of their own," she says and casts us a cynical grin.

"Does that mean you'll jump down the rabbit hole later tonight?" Baba asks mischievously, and Vega shrugs patronizingly.

"Who knows? Let's just say we'll cross paths again, that sounds more adventurous doesn't?" she cheers while throwing her hands behind her head innocently.

"Out of curiosity, how do you two know Antonio and Carolina?" Eisuke asks.

"We happen to meet in Italy when my sister and I were there for work." Orion answers and throws his arms over Antonio and Vega. "Antonio got himself into some trouble and we decided to lend a hand."

"Alright, don't kiss your ass too hard," Antonio says while playfully shoving him off, and (Y/N) suddenly looks up.

"Didn't you say you and Vega came back to Japan? Were you born elsewhere?" she inquires innocently and everyone, including Antonio looks at the two curiously.Vega shakes her head and crosses her arms casually. Just then I see two small silver cylinders tied around her wrists by red string. Are those bracelets? I briefly glance at Orion's wrists, but he has the same cylinders tied around one of his belt loops. They're so simple and small that it's easy to miss. I wonder what they could be?

"We were born in Kyoto, Japan but we grew up elsewhere. I spent a portion of my childhood in Russia and my brother was in Germany. We reunited in Italy and moved to France then came back To japan," Vega explains casually.

"You're Japanese is very good, considering you moved frequently," I comment indifferently. They both smile and Orion makes eye contact with me. Their eyes are ridiculously dark...

"Thank you! It was our first language and we spoke it in our private lives," Orion explains and Kishi cocks an eyebrow.

"So you'd switch from language to language?"

"Yes, Japanese has always been what we're more comfortable with so, it'd be me and my sister's main language to communicate in." Orion replies and Vega modestly nods in agreement.

"How many languages do you know how to speak?" Eisuke inquires and Orion and Vega look at each other with wry smiles.

"Well, Japanese--obviously," Vega says almost self deprecatingly and playfully face palms. "Russian, French, German, English, Arabic, Vietnamese..." she trails off trying to remember. Her brows furrow as she stares at her long fingers counting off each one.

"...And Spanish, Swedish, Romanian, Tagalog, Hmong, Korean, and Chinese," Orion finishes for her as he gives her an amused look. She crosses her arms and huffs.

"Quit laughing at me!" she pouts and looks down.

"Pfft, sorry sorry, I just thought it was cute," He says as he pats her head again.

"No one asked you," she turns her head away. For a moment all eyes are on them and we just stare. Then Ota and Baba are first to laugh, and everyone follows. I can't help but chuckle at their amusing act too.

"You seem awfully close," Eisuke says through his chuckle and Vega's cheeks flush.

"Well yeah, he's my stupid older brother!" she replies, red-faced and Orion chuckles.

"Oh I'm stupid now?" he asks and she shakes her head.

"Whatever! You know what I mean!"

"Ahaha, she's like a cute little puppy." Ota says teasingly. I glance down at my watch and realize it's almost time for the auction. Orion sees this and something occurs to him as well.

"I hate to cut this short, but Antonio..." he trails off and Antonio seems to remember something as well.

"Oh yes, of course!" he looks at Eisuke and smiles. "I hope you'll excuse us for a moment."

"Go ahead. We'll await you on the VIP balcony," Eisuke says with his business smile. Orion and Vega bow to us.

"It was nice meeting you all! See you later," she says with a meaningful wink as the three of them walk off. The others and I walk off to the auction hall with Carolina. Hm, I have a feeling we'll see them again sooner than later. I wonder what could they be discussing with Antonio.

"Vega had quite the face on her, didn't she?" Baba asks aloud as we sit in the VIP balcony. "She's also pretty small yet she has curves in all the right places." he says and Kishi huffs on his cigarette.

"Too much of a flat chest, she ain't bad though," the slacker add with a shrug.

"No way! Her eyes were seriously creeping me out. I've never seen anyone with two different eyes before. Her brother had some weird ones too," Ota chimes in and shivers slightly.

"I thought she was very pretty!" (Y/N) says and Carolina scoffs.

"She's whatever I'm obviously way prettier than her! Right, Soryu," Carolina asks flirtatiously and flutters her eyelashes. Ugh, don't look at me. I look away and sigh then Baba suddenly eyes Eisuke and I.

"What do you think Boss, Soryu?" Eisuke smirks and hooks his arm around (Y/N).

"Nothing can compare to my woman," he says confidently and (Y/N) blushes a deep red.

"Well, Soryu? You can't deny she's like a mysterious beauty. Something out of those book you always have your nose stuck in." Baba grins mischievously at me. Oh, here he goes...

"Now that I think about it, Soryu was starring at Vega an awful lot. Like he couldn't look away," Ota says and sticks his tongue out mockingly. Damn, don't these two ever shut up? I was observing my potential enemy.

"No way! My Soryu would never have such poor taste!" Carolina exclaims and I smirk. Maybe I can use this to get this disgusting woman off my back.

"Who knows? She was definitely...different from other women I've met," I say with a shrug, half meaning it and half out of spite towards Carolina.

"Oh Soryu! You're so funny!" she snorts an ugly laugh. I sigh and make eye contact with Eisuke. He just scoffs and offers me a triumphant grin. The auditorium soon fills and Antonio eventually enters the room. "How'd it go Daddy?" Carolina asks as he seats himself between Eisuke and I.

"Just fine, Darling," he replies and lights a cigar. "It was lovely seeing those two again! Too bad they had to go on such short notice."

"You seem to be close with them considering you don't get to see them often," Eisuke says and Antonio shrugs.

"I first met them in their teens. Around that time, they were executives in an ally mafia and they were personally assigned to assist me. I consider them apart of the family," Antonio explains with a far away look in his eyes as he stares at the stage. Is that so? The rumors were true then. I defilement have to ask Antonio more later. The lights dim and Carolina rolls her eyes.

"Honestly, can we stop talking about Orion and Vega? I hear enough out of Daddy as is," she mutters out of jealousy. Just then music starts and the spotlight flashes on the stage as the Mad Hatter waltzes out. The audience gradually hushes and everyone's eyes are on the stage.

"Welcome back to Wonderland!" The Mad Hatter bows gracefully as the mass cheers for him. Despite the auction just starting the crowd seems more excited than usual.

"I have a feeling that the bets will be pretty high tonight," Baba says as he eyes the auctioneer.

"Well, duh, I heard that many of the items up for auction especially enticed the participants." Ota mentions as he scans the item list.

"The goods ain't different from what's always up for grabs," Mamoru huffs while glancing at the item list over Ota's shoulder. Of course he'd think that, he pays no attention to the auctions anyway.

"If you were listening, it's not just the items, but the reaction the items got out of this specific crowd," I remark in an annoyed tone.

"Didn't ask you, mobster," Kishi shoots me a glare. Man he pisses me off.

"Say that again, slacker." Just as I'm about to respond, Ota interrupts us.

"Wait shut up for a second! What's this supposed to be?" Ota asks no one in particular as he points to the top od the list. It's written in red ink and the handwriting is different from the rest of the list.

"'Hope you don't mind the last minute helpers.' what could that mean?" (Y/N) says, thinking out loud.

"That wasn't on the list when I checked it earlier," I announce and the atmosphere turns cold and tense. "Though I recognize that handwriting," I add while racking my memory. Where have I seen that elegant handwriting?

"That isn't how The Mad Hatter writes. His handwriting is much messier," Eisuke says nonchalantly.

"I'll radio one of my men if they--" I start but The Mad Hatter's booming voice washes over the auction hall.

"I hope you don't mind, my dear friends, but I have two new comers accompanying us on our lovely journey tonight!" he reveals excitedly and the patrons exchange pleased reactions just as the lights dim further and the spotlight disappears. "Ladies and gentlemen please welcome The White Knight and The White Queen to our Wonderland!" The Mad Hatter says as the spotlight reappears over-- an unconscious woman inside a bubble? Shrieks of surprise and fascination bubble from the auditorium as the bubble floats over to the center of the stage and pops. As the woman falls she screams, and horror freezes everyone in place as we can do nothing but watch her plummet. Suddenly a whirl of playing cards sputter from the stage in a neat cyclone and appears a man in a white and black tailcoat with an eerie mask with a long nose framing his shadowed eyes. His outfit is identical to his partner's, though her mask is plain and only covers half her face. The other half has minimal, yet dramatic stage makeup painted on. He catches the fallen girl just on time and they both pose extravagantly with their arms in the air. There's a brief moment of silence throughout the auditorium then a sudden wave of thunderous applause and cheers fill the room.

"My, what a stunt!" Baba remarks, genuinely impressed. Ota narrows his eyes at the two and huffs.

"What the hell was that? How long has Maddy been planning this?" Ota snarls in disgust. He's never really liked The Mad Hatter, so I'm sure this bothers him, to say the least. I don't particularly care about them helping out as long as it doesn't cause problems. I cast a sideways glace over at Eisuke who nods at me and we return our attention to the stage. Antonio and Carolina just watch the stage excitedly.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen!" The White Knight says while twirling The White Queen out of his arms. She sticks the landing and grabs The Mad Hatter's gloved hand, who's on her other side. The three bow dramatically "We do hope you'll enjoy the series of..." he continues and suddenly throws a small sphere at The White Queen. When the smoke subsides around, The White Queen is in a different outfit from the one she was wearing a second ago. "...wonders we've planned for you all tonight." The White knight finishes and the crowds cheers happily.

"Let us especially hope the auction managers get a kick out of tonight. Can we get a generous round of applause for not only you, but our lovely hosts of this delectable event?" declares The Mad Hatter while gesturing to the VIP balcony. Yet again a thunderous rampage of applause echoes throughout the auction hall, shaking the room.

"A little birdie told me that here in Wonderland all the best people are crazy. I trust I can hold this audience up to that, no?" The White Queen inquires, her black locks bouncing about as she elegantly paces the stage. Meanwhile The Mad Hatter and The White Knights toss large spheres onto the stage behind her. After the smoke thins, the first Item of the night stands in all it's glory behind the three auctioneers. The auction continues smoothly with extravagant introductions of each item. The three on stage took turns auctioning off each item, and the audience ate up every second of it. As the patrons reluctantly exit the auction hall, we say our goodbyes to the Buccis for the night; and, call The Mad Hatter up to the lounge. The man waltzes in with two Dragons on either side of him. He bows dramatically to the guys and I and slowly lifts his head.

"How may I help you?" he smiles and tips his hat to Eisuke.

"Who were those strangers?" Eisuke scoffs while glaring at the man before him. The mad hatter gracefully crosses his arms and cradles his chin.

"Strangers? The only strangers I recall seeing were the audience members," The Mad Hatter responds solemnly and Ota rolls his eyes.

"The White Knight and The White Queen, who are they?" Ota asks sternly and The Mad Hatter shrugs and shakes his finger at us.

"Why don't you ask them yourselves?" he smiles an eerily and gestures at the entrance with both his arms. A knock sounds on the other side of the door and we all exchange glance with each other. I cock my gun and Eisuke looks over at the lounge doors.

"Come in." the doors slowly opens and in walk none other but the Dynamic Duo.

Second chapter? Maybe? I hope you all liked it :) I tried my best to stay true to each character's personalities and what not. I had a lot of fun writing this so I just might do a second part(+)

#romance #otome #soryu oh #kbtbb soryu #kbtbb headcanon #kissed by the baddest bidder #original character #fanfiction #series

15 notes · View notes

thebestplltheories · 5 years

Text

PLL The Perfectionists - 1x01 Pilot LIVE REACTION

WE ARE BACK!!!!

Ok I’m gonna do what I was doing for PLL where I react as I watch. But before I copy and paste the live reaction, I want to give my quick overview. That was by far a 10/10. That achieved everything a pilot should achieve. It introduced us to the characters, each of their stories, and the relationships each character has with one another. It set the overall tone, that this is a murder mystery with twists and turns to come. It established what the show is about. And it had occasional small shocks (I say small because there’s only so much that can be shocking in a pilot when everything is brand new). This was exponentially darker than the PLL pilot and for that I’m so grateful. We are cutting the high school airy-fairy (is that word used outside of Australia?) drama and going straight to scandals and a murder. I’m scared to see the ratings tomorrow because I want it to do well but hey it was trending worldwide on Twitter so that’s a good sign!? The show looks SO promising. I think I’m already in love with the cast. I just want to know more about everything and everyone and omg we are back!

LIVE THOUGHTS:

Love this intro! It sets the scene very well about the whole theme of perfectionism.

WAIT IS DYLAN PLAYING POKERFACE BY LADY GAGA HAHAHAHAHA

Okay sorry but that song ain’t it (“two can keep a secret if one of them is dead”). Why does it sound like an auto tuned choir? I’m happy for change. I actually don’t want the exact same version as the original series. But this one ain’t it. Is it too late to change it???

Wait, why is Alison walking around her new apartment like she’s walking around Jenna’s school for the blind in 710? If she lived 2 years of happiness and freedom of A, there’s no need to be so sceptical of danger every time you walk into a room. Anyway, doesn’t really matter.

Just the backing music throughout the scene is very PLL-esque! Yes, there is such thing as PLL backing music. And this is it.

Mona making a grand entrance!

I feel like Ali’s reaction to seeing Mona was a bit... underwhelming? If they haven’t seen each other in 2 years I expected a bit more of an “OMG”, and a “how did you get in my apartment”, etc. But they go straight to the point and cut the fluff so I don’t mind overall.

Mona recruited Ali. I knew it. And she works at BHU, we already knew that.

Emison is having trust issues. But she wants to do this for the kids. Ok I expected more detail there to satisfy the Emison shippers but whatever, I won’t cry at night.

Ok so Mary and Alex escaped Mona’s “dungeon”. That’s fine by me. Maybe that’ll be the storyline for a PLL movie later, who knows. It’s quite a vague answer but what did we expect... Mona to ADMIT to Ali that she captured her aunt? No. Mona could never explicitly say to Ali what she did. Hence the subtle pause before “... escaped me”. Only us the audience know the true meaning of that and I love how subtle yet meaningful it is.

Why do I feel like this security system is gonna play a massive toll throughout the entire series?

Loved the little Easter egg of seeing Mona, and Mona in the mirror (2 Mona’s). A subtle symbol/reference to her split personality in PLL.

I LOVED the scene of Ali teaching in the classroom! I got How To Get Away With Murder vibes...

Remember when we all thought Taylor’s death would be the main death of the show because of that memorial with her name on it... lol. Okay I’m calling it now... come back to this in the apparently mind blowing season 1 finale... Taylor isn’t really dead WE HAVENT TECHNICALLY SEEN A BODY

Love the complicated friendships going on between Dylan, Nolan, Ava, Caitlin! There’s a lot going on about faking being friends and faking tasks to uphold the image of being perfect. I love this theme and I feel like it’s super relevant to today’s world. Like especially social media. Everyone’s instagrams are always filled of their highs. And they’re mostly edited. No one ever posts/shares their low moments.

So no one knows of Ali’s past. Hmmm. We’ve had this discussion before, I don’t think it’s realistic that no one knows the name Alison DiLaurentis - surely that was on national news when “dead girl isn’t dead anymore” made headlines. But anyway. If they wanna pretend no one watches the news, it wouldn’t be the most unrealistic thing PLL has done.

Is Dylan the gay male character Marlene said she was going to introduce in PLL season 5B? Lmao about time.

WOW that flashback of Caitlin and Nolan just gave me PLL season 1 Alison flashback vibes! Nolan plays the bad manipulative guy so well just like Ali played the bully so well in flashbacks!

Two moms don’t make a right hahahaha who wrote that

Sofia looks FLAWLESS in the pool scene OH MY GODDD. AND her voice is so soothing what the hell

Love how the first scene of Nolan’s mother shows her standing on top of the staircase and the camera panning up. Great directing there. Showing she’ll be like a supreme leader. And then the camera being over her shoulders looking down on Nolan. Again great camera work which conveys the message that she is the boss of this town. I think she’ll be our new Jessica DiLaurentis lol

“I’d like some time for myself” ... “to do what?” OUCH why is that so iconic

Eli is... doing great. He comes across very confident. A star in the making?

Love the cinematography period. And Portland is beautiful!! Better than the Warner Bros lot.

Omg Nolan’s mother gathering “attractive” people for her photo op. Lol, they really are big on presenting a perfect image.

“You saw somebody else” NO CAITLIN, ALISON SAW YOU wow these kids will adamantly lie to uphold perfectionism. I keep saying that but I just love this theme!!!

“I know a little bit about manipulation” hahahahaha Ali

Omg Ali is so good at learning their lies. Of course she is, she’s had years of practice

The woods, Nolan? Nothing good ever happens in the woods.

Lol when Nolan tells Dylan to “kiss me” and Dylan actually contemplates it (and does it). That’s the type of power Nolan has over people.

I love how Ali is trying to help them! I can see a bond eventually forming here.

This scene where Nolan cheats on Ava isn’t shocking since they unfortunately shared it in the promos but hey a douche is a douche.

WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCKING FUCK IT’S TAYLOR WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOVE

OK I KNOW I GUESSED ALEX DRAKE BUT THIS IS A NEW RECORD FOR FASTEST THEORY TO COME TRUE

Well it wasn’t really a theory I was just joking that she’s not really dead because we didn’t see a body but still do I get a point? Lmao

Nonetheless that shocked me! I love that they’re trying to take down their own family, that’s so dark and it’s only episode 1!

Yes Alison is already getting suspicious. Solve this one please Ali

Sorry I put my phone down during that scene in the woods. I just knew it would be juicy and I wanted to immerse in it properly. I frickin adore this scene. It’s creepy in tone, set in the woods like classic PLL, they’re referring to Ali like a friend and my PLL heart is content, and this is the first time they’re all bonding over one thing: wanting Nolan dead. This is probably my favourite scene in the whole episode.

So I’m guessing the vibes are that they were being recorded in the woods about how they want Nolan to be killed? But didn’t Nolan turn off the security?

Mona gets in her car and chucks a big bag in the back seat. Where was she and what was in the baggggg

Ok that was a bit dramatic Ali (“why am I really here”)

Lol I had to rewatch that for a sec. I thought Ali said “and his dead sister who I just saw pick him up” and I was like wait what Ali knows Taylor’s alive??? No, “dead sister who I just saw a picture of”.

OH MY GOD WHAT A MISSED OPPORTUNITY!!!! THAT SCENE WHERE THE 3 OF THEM ARE WALKING AWAY FROM EACH OTHER... NOLAN’S BODY SHOULD’VE FALLEN TO THE GROUND IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM RIGHT THERE! That would’ve been iconic. Like “oh well we were just kidding about all that, good night xx” then nope bam dead body. But I guess he had to die with poles through his chest as Caitlin said.

Oh Marlene. That’s a LOT of dialogue for a death scene. I hope you can back up and explain what Nolan is talking about before he died. Don’t you dare tell me that was an interpretative dream. Again that’s a lot of dialogue for a death scene. You better know who that killer is Marlene! Don’t make it up the day you write the finale!

I don’t like how we didn’t see Nolan ACTUALLY be killed. They play it safe because they don’t want to show us the killer in action. they basically copied the format of Mona’s “death”. Just change the scene to a flashing ambulance with a lame transition lol.

Another missed opportunity. Mona should’ve said to Ali “they found a body”! That would’ve been iconic in every way possible. First it was Ali’s body now Ali is finding a body and hearing the news and ugh oh well

My god that’s a violent death. And pretty early in the series for a Noel-Khan-level death. Too bad the photos leaked online and we knew that Nolan would not only die, but die like THAT. Those extras/fillers on set really should get charged for having their phones on them and leaking shit. Isn’t there copyright laws or something???? idk

Ummmmmm what? What kind of sci-fi, dollhouse level bullshit is that? That’s kinda over the top. Ehhhh. We’ll see where that goes.

My brain right now instantly got to thinking if Nolan’s murderer will be the “A” of the series or if the killer will just be the main mystery for season 1? Is “who killed Nolan” going to be the overarching story of the entire show or will they answer that sooner rather than later and then start a new mystery? I wonder what the format of this show will be. That’s where my mind is right now as the credits play.

#PLL #pretty little liars #pll the perfectionists #the perfectionists #pll theories #plltp #tp #alison dilaurentis #pretty little liars theories

113 notes · View notes

neoclapyourhands-blog · 5 years

Text

don’t pick up the phone (yandere!yoongi x reader)

part 1 of my new rules series, inspired by dua lipa’s song & lyrics. this is the first story i wrote based off one of the lines. enjoy!

warning: yandere actions, slightly mature

word count: 4.3k (whew, that’s a lot for my first post on here)

Part 1: don’t pick up the phone

Part 2: don’t let him in

Part 3: don’t be his friend

Part 4: if you’re under him...

He chose you by chance. You had fallen into his trap once, just like the others, but this time, he would close all the gates and keep you locked in there for eternity.

You were always that one person among friends who would preach about how bad hookups are, and brag that you've never had a one night stand.

Yet here you were, sprawled across a stranger's bedsheets and lying across from them, having done exactly what you were against just that night before.

A migraine accompanied the anxiety and confusion building up inside of us as you regained consciousness. The first thing that came to mind was how cold you were, even as you laid under the sheets, but it wasn't much of a surprise since you were fully exposed and naked. The second thing that you thought of was your boyfriend, and that the man sleeping next to you was him. You couldn't tell for sure, since his back was facing you, and the bed sheets were over his entire figure, but you decided to settle on that thought, since it was more comforting than admitting the truth.

Not only had you gone against your own word, but to put the cherry on top of this mess, you were in a relationship with someone else.

After a few moments of getting your thoughts together, the man next to you turned around. The covers slipped off his head and revealed disheveled, platinum blonde hair. A pang of emotions struck you like lightening as he faced you with a gentle smile.

"Good morning, beautiful." His whispers in a deep voice, his brown eyes softening at the sight of your face. He blinks slowly as he takes in your features. His hand reaches out towards your face, letting his knuckles brush your jawline softly. Your shivered at his touch. Your lips parted, as if you wanted to say something, but nothing come out.

"I'll make you breakfast." He says after a few moments, getting up and cleaning up the side of his bed. Surprisingly, he was fully dressed in a shirt and jeans, but you didn't bother to ask why. He rubs his dewy face from the exhaustion, before heading out the room.

You remain motionless, your heart pounding furiously from the sensation of his hand still lingering on your jaw.

"That's not my boyfriend.." You mutter under your breath. A stray tear falls from your watering eyes, and you wipe them away before any more could come spilling out, "what the fuck have I done."

Your shaky hand clamps over your mouth, eyes widening as they stare at the door, dreading for the stranger to come back in. Instead of anticipating for him to come back, you decide it would be much more calming if you got ready and met with him in his kitchen. Reluctantly pulling the sheets off to reveal your bare figure, you hurriedly gather your now wrinkled articles of clothing that were strewn across the floor. You recoil from the putrid scent of sweat that it held, but had no other choice than to suck it up and put it on. After dressing yourself in last night's jeans and t-shirt, you head over to a tall mirror across the room and smooth out the wrinkles from the shirt to appear neat and put together. Since you didn't spot a comb or brush nearby, you decided to use a hairtie that you always carried around your wrist. By the time you finished gathering your hair into a messy bun, you noticed the man was back, and leaning at the doorway with an intimidating smile painted on his lips.

"Were you watching me this whole time?"

The man smirked, his dark eyes lighting up playfully, "What, did you want me to?"

You knew it was a joke, but his cocky, dick-ish comment got on your nerves.

"You're a fucking creep." You glare at him, crossing your arms.

He takes a step back and puts his hands out in front, "Woah there, what's gotten into you? Just last night we were hitting it off."

Your blood boiled at this reminder, and you reprimand yourself in your head, "Did I really sleep with this guy? And this guy, out of all people?"

You exhale heavily and shut your eyes for a few moments. The snow haired man takes a few steps closer towards you, slightly opening up his arms, ready to embrace you. He pauses as soon as you began your harangue.

"Listen, buddy, I don't know who you are or what happened at all. All I know is that we slept together, and that you seem like a douchebag. But what I need from you is to forget this ever happened."

You maintain eye contact with him, bracing yourself for his response. But when his face remains frozen, you break away from the staring to look down at your feet, missing a glimpse of his eye twitch. No, you weren't scared. You felt guilty- a sick, disgusting ball of regret churned in your stomach, and the more you looked at this beautiful man's face, the worse you felt.

You let the silence hang in the air for a few moments, but since he refused to say anything, you assumed you could take your leave. You walked past him towards the door to find the rest of your belongings that might be scattered around his apartment. You ventured around the place for quite a while, getting a bit more anxious as you realised the man lived in a penthouse. When you finally found your purse, it was on the ground in front of a room with a closed door; your bag, however, was wide open. Finding this suspicious, you attempt to open the door, but fail to do so, as it was locked. You sigh in a tired frustration. At this point, you didn't care anymore about what went down last night, or what was really going on with the dude- you just wanted to leave.

You sling your purse strap around your shoulder, finally ready to leave the apartment. Strangely enough, the mysterious man did not bother to come after you or stop you. You passed by the bedroom while on the way towards the front door, and take a quick peek. The man is sitting on the bed, crouched over with a fancy looking device in his hand. His facial expression is hard to read from your distance, but you could see his lips tugged at the corners. You brushed it off, feeling a bit more anxious to leave the place.

Yanking the door open, you exit his apartment without a warning, except for the loud noise as you slam the door behind you. In a hurried pace, you rush out of the complex as fast as possible, keeping your head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone you passed by.

You were on the highest floor of a seemingly prestigious apartment complex, so taking the elevator and going through the lobby without interacting or facing anyone was a difficult task. Chauffeurs and business men in nice suits, ladies in formal dresses, and then there was you, in a t-shirt and pair of jeans. Not only did you appearance attract the attention of those around you as you made your way out of the building, but the lingering scent of perspiration made quite a bad impression.

"Well, it's not like they're going to see me ever again. They don't know who I am." You distract yourself from the embarrassment you refused to face.

When the elevator doors open, another group of class looking business men stand patiently in front. You didn't bother to count how many were there, but they resembled the stranger you had just been with, regarding the fact that they all had unique hair colours, and youthful but intimidating faces. Clothed in suits and lathered with cologne, you take a note of their appearance before hopping off the elevator and rushing through the lobby. Their gaze follows your retreating figure, scurrying out the doors without looking back. They smirk at each other, knowing the deed has been done.

Another spoof call graced your evening, interrupting the relaxation time you had set up for yourself. You and your boyfriend Namjoon just had a date at the mall, and you decided to treat yourself to all the self care goodies you bought while shopping. You wanted to invite Namjoon, but he declined politely, saying he had to check up on his younger brother, who needed some tutoring for a highschool course he was taking.

It was a surprise how you were able to keep your unfaithfulness a secret for so long. By now, it was a month since the incident, but it took days for guilt to subside. You almost felt proud, that you were able to handle the situation and keep Namjoon. But of course, you knew it wouldn't be something you would repeat; just because you were able to get away with it once does not mean you would be willing to do it again.

You were also quite afraid of dealing with any reasons behind your motives that night. Although you only partially remembered it, you didn't want to understand if it was an unconscious vendetta against Namjoon that made you even engage in a conversation with that stranger.

But, now that you were finally in the shoes of a cheater, you did develop some empathy, to a certain extent for fellow cheaters. Before everything, you would reprimand all kinds of cheaters, regardless, even ones influenced by alcohol.

You lift up your phone delicately, cautiously trying to avoid ruining your freshly painted nails as you raised it up to your face. You squinted at the number that called you.

"Again?"

The number had the same area code and prefix as you, but the rest were all different. You always got calls from numbers like these, but it was never the same one. They either left no voicemail, or ones that lasted one to three seconds, with nothing but inaudible sounds that you couldn't even make out at the highest volume. In an impatient manner, you accept the call and place it on speaker mode,

"Stop fucking calling me."

"Y/N, it's so nice of you to finally pick up."

A wave of fear rushed over you. How did this random number know your name?

"If this is some stupid fucking telemarketing scam, I suggest you stop stalking people and trying to threaten them to give you money, else I'll shove my fist up your ass."

"..my, my, my, bold words for someone who only recently let a total stranger shove something up their own ass."

Your hands suddenly began to ache, and you almost dropped your phone. This wasn't funny anymore.

"..what is your name." You reply sternly after a few moments in shock.

"You know, I at least thought you picked up my name from that night. But clearly, you meant it when you wanted both of us to forget everything that happened. Well guess what, I can't, and I won't."

You were too overwhelmed with emotions at this point: anger, fear, frustration, event the dreaded guilt came back, all hurling towards you.

"What the fuck do you want then?" You seethed.

A deep chuckle from the man caused you to grit your teeth in fear.

"I have a little proposal for you," from his tone, you knew it was more of a demand than a proposal that involved your opinion, "Let's continue where we left off, you and me. We don't have to meet all the time, though. You can still be with Namjoon, and spend most of your time with him as his loyal girlfriend."

The irony in his words hurt you, and the complexity of the situation haunted you. How could a simple, one-night stand turn into this?

"Who do you think I am? It was one fucking mistake that I regret and have long forgotten by now." You stomped your foot like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I don't think Namjoon will take too kindly to it, though."

You then realised he knew your boyfriend's name without any context before. But that goes for your number, and literally anything other possible dirt or information he has on you. You assumed it was all things you idiotically opened up about on that wretched night.

"Okay, but he doesn't have to know?? Now can you just leave me alone and find some other girl to sleep with you."

"So you would prefer your leaked sex tape over seeing me? Man, that's harsh haha."

Numb. You couldn't move, and you didn't want to. All you really wanted in the moment was Namjoon.

But you couldn't. You had to be strong and deal with it yourself. This was, afterall, the mess you've created behind his back.

"I'm not even going to question why you recorded that-"

"Great, I wasn't going to answer anyways."

"But fucking promise me that if I meet with you, it'll be the last, and that you will delete whatever footage you have."

"Sweetheart, that wasn't the deal."

Your eye twitches involuntarily, "You better take this deal or I'm suing."

"Oh, relax, I'm basically giving you a shot at fame as the new Kim K."

You fell silent, speechless at the amount of disrespect this man was treating you with.

A deep chuckle erupted suddenly, "Fine, it's a deal, but bring a total of 5 grand with you. I assume you know where I live and such, so I except to see you this Friday. Good luck."

The person hung up, and you slowly brought the phone down from your ear, eyes fixated on the ground.

Good luck with what?

Emotions swirled all throughout you, lurching and twisting, yet you kept repeating the same words in your mind to prevent yourself from going insane:

"I'm fine, I can handle this."

By the time Friday arrived, your anxiety had shot up, leaving you to deal with sleepless nights and turning towards caffeinated beverages to alleviate your tension. The thought of handing over $5,000 to this total stranger didn't even upset you as much. You could easily complete the transaction through online services and it would be fine, as long as you didn't have to face him. But you were too afraid to ask if that was a possibility, and you had a feeling that he based off his original proposition for you, he really just wanted to see you at least once more. You wanted to satisfy him for the last time, so he wouldn't go ahead and make any rash decisions about leaking the recordings.

Namjoon had called you on Thursday, inviting you out for a date to a new cafe he recently discovered. But no matter how much you wanted to accept his invitation and just forget all about the predicament you were stuck in, it terrified you to face him, knowing that the very next day, you would be meeting with the very person you had cheated on him with.

A text from the strange man himself graced your early Friday morning. It woke you up from your daze, one in which you remained motionless in your bed, unblinkingly. While the coffee and teas were partially to blame, the stress you carried had a far greater effect on you and your overall health that week. You lifted yourself up to grab the phone off the nightstand, it's bright screen blinding your strained eyes. You were praying it was just your lovely boyfriend checking up on you. But instead, a cryptic message from none other than the mystery man greeted you:

Unknown: I hope you know that if you don't come over, I'll have no choice but to come get you myself.

You scoff at the threat, "How is he trying to sound intimidating when in reality, he actually knows nothing about me."

You shut off your phone, once again shrouded in the darkness of your bedroom. You decided to get up and prepare for the long day ahead of you.

While your memory was never the sharpest, you were still able to successfully find the fancy apartment in which the man resided in. But this time, you chose to dress business casual, as you were trying not to attract any attention, nor seem especially suspicious. Although it did suddenly feel a bit odd to be dressed so nicely as you stood in front of his door at 9 AM. The door creaks open, and a short male with dark chocolate hair, and soft eyes to match, blinks at you. It takes him a few seconds to register your appearance before his lips break out into a cocky smile.

"What a lovely surprise." He states sarcastically, something you don't catch, as he opens the door a bit wider and signals you to enter.

"Um sorry, is this the residence of.." You pause mid-sentence, realising your stupidity: you never got his name.....or at least, you couldn't remember it if he told you.

"Min Yoongi? Yes, this is his humble abode, welcome back."

You frowned at the last two words, but before you could question him about why he knew you were there, he interrupted you.

"I'm sure you brought the money we asked for?" The man asked gently and almost too sweetly to seem genuine.

"Yes, but I'd really like to know why this is some sort of collaborative effort. The both of you blackmail people?"

The man simply chuckles and bows before extending his hand out towards her, "The name's Park Jimin, Miss."

You push his arm down lightly while scowling at the man and enter the penthouse. As you walk past him, you clutch onto your purse tightly.

The two of you make your way to the living room, and he sits you down on a leather chair. He sits across from you on a couch and hunches forward. His elbows rest on is knee, and he folds his hands together, the two index fingers placed against his lips. His eyes rest on your figure, examining your body language, as you sit there squirming in your seat, alone and anxious.

"Yoongi! Our guest is here." Jimin's eyes remain on you, and he twitches into a sly smirk when he sees you tense up at the name of the person you slept with.

The dreaded man himself finally walks out, rather strangely, you notice. It seemed as though he was in a drunken state, to the point that his intoxication got him high. He stumbles towards the couch where Jimin is and seats himself next to him.

You take note of the two's completely opposite appearances. Jimin's hair was of salon quality, the part in his hair so sharp and sleek. His polished attire, which consisted of a large trenchcoat layered over a turtleneck, along with a dark pair of trousers, made him appear as if he owned the entire complex. As for Yoongi, his wrinkled pajamas and tipsiness made him appear to be a lazy bum, and lacking of any care for manners. You know this because he came up to you, a rather bold move in and of itself, and hung his arm lazily around your shoulders. You cringe at the contact between the two of you, as well as the weight of his arms as he bounced around suddenly.

"Jimin!!! Get me a fountain drink from downstairs, would ya?' The grown man pouts at Jimin, swinging from side to side, to your annoyance.

Jimin shakes his head and gets up from the seat, putting his hands in the pockets of his trouser.

"First, I need what she came here for give."

You quickly nod your head at this, and throw Yoongi's arm off your shoulder. You grab your purse and rummage through it in search for your wallet. Once you find it, you pull out a wad of cash that was held together with a single hairtie, since you couldn't find any rubberbands.

Jimin snatches it from you, which startles you initially. He quickly thumbs through each $100 bill that was in the stack, and finishes faster than you expected.

"Clearly, they have done this before." You think to yourself.

Jimin smiles at you once more, slapping the stack against the palm of his hand, "Thank you, Miss. I'll take my leave now. Do what you want with her, Yoongi. But if there's nothing else to be said, then you are excused. It was nice to meet you, Y/N."

With that, Jimin hides the stack in the hidden pocket on the inner side of the trenchcoat, and exits the penthouse.

Yoongi’s head falls sharply. You decide to ignore Jimins words and leave so you wouldn’t have to face the psycho behind you. But because he was facing the door, you would have to walk past him. But as you do, your wrist is caught by his iron-grip, and you stumble back. The back of your head meets is chest, and he closes in on you into a tight embrace, arms wrapped around your waist. He lets out a deep sigh, as though he had been holding it in.

"This is just right." Yoongi moans.

You cringe at the statement.

"Boy, what the fuck are you saying? Let go of me!"

His eyes flash in anger, his nails digging into your skin.

"I refuse to let another person go after just using me. Why should I be the side man, the rebound, the fuckboy?" Yoongi seethes viciously, ignoring your squeals. He then violently turns you around so you could face his gleaming eyes, his nails continue to claw into your shoulders, as you gaze at him in fear, with a hint of pain.

"It's my turn to use you." He switches between both of your dilated pupils.

"I'LL FUCKING CALL THE POLICE ON YOU IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME RIGHT NOW!" You thrash in the harsh hold he has you in and scream at him, spit flying in his face.

Yoongi merely smirks at your weak attempts to scare him. You start to scream at the top of your lungs, to which he only winces at and instinctively covers your mouth with his palm. He grabs you into the same embrace, and walks backwards towards his hallway. You thrash even more the farther away you are from the door, wanting to run towards and out of it with all your might. The sight of the door becomes nonexistent eventually, as Yoongi drags you into the darkest part of the penthouse. You recognise the place where he pauses it: it was at the door in which your purse was placed in front of. You grew terrified at the thought of what might be in there, or what he planned to do to you in there.

As your struggles from is grasp increase, Yoongi nonchalantly pulls out a key from is pockets with one and, and unlocks the door. As soon as it is opened, he throws you into the dark abyss, and stays at the door, blocking the way so you wouldn't escape.

You groan from your fall, and hiss as you bend your body up to face him. Light pours through from behind him, making his features dark and unreadable.

"Why me? I'm nothing special." was all you could muster, before tears start to stream your face.

"Indeed, you're nothing special. But you're mine."

He meant it when he said he didn't see anything special in her. Yoongi's blunt honesty was one of his most notable characteristics, and in this case, he couldn't lie about something this important. All he ever truly desired was attention and love from the women he slept with, even if it was his job, and that he was told to remain distant and professional with his coworkers, or rather, the victims of his group's schemes. However, he couldn't help but feel jealous; most of the men and women he slept with were in a relationship, but whether they just made a slip up or purposefully chose to cheat on their significant other, they would still be able to retreat back to a solid, stable relationship, especially in the cases were they bout into the blackmail.The boy couldn't help but feel envy, as he wanted something substantial to hold onto himself, rather than temporary lust, even if it did provide him his wealth.

Yoongi juggled with the expensive camera in his hand, inspecting it before turning it on to view the videos stored on it. With a look of insanity on his face, he played the last video recorded. He watched the act of infidelity eagerly, his heart beating quicker each time the content of the video escalated. After a few seconds, he paused it and headed towards a room down his hallway. He took out the key that opened the door from his pockets, entering the dark room with camera in hand. He slams the door behind him, then locks it from the inside. Even in the dark, he can spot the very person he is looking for. He walks up to the crouching figure, as they sit on a bed in the middle of the room. Yoongi touches their shoulder and sits next to them, ignoring the silent sobbing, and pushes the camera into their view, forcing them to watch the footage that was playing.

He leans over to their ear and whispers, "Let's reenact this once more. But now this time, since all you have is me, you can only focus and love me."

He rips apart the hands that conceal your face and reaches towards your trembling lips to capture them with his own. He takes pleasure from every moan that escapes your lips meekly, squeezing your waist so you could drop right under him. He gazes at your weak form under him, adrenaline rushing throughout his body as he realised he finally had someone to use for himself, only.

He chose you by chance. You had fallen into his trap once, just like the others, but this time, he would close all the gates and keep you locked in there for eternity.

For his keeping.

For his selfish needs.

For himself.

#bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #yandere bts #yandere kpop #yandere #fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop writing #x reader #oneshot #yandere!yoongi x reader #don't pick up the phone #don't pick up the phone (yandere!yoongi x reader)

79 notes · View notes