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atzfilm · 1 year

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clair de lune. (m) - part seven

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

pairing; ot8/f.reader

word count: 23k

warnings; manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut, gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, brief talk of religion, mass murder

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

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

masterlist | final

Chapter 7:

He balances the two fruits in his hands. In another time, maybe years from now, it’d be humorous to take the box of peaches and bring them home to you. Maybe you’d scold him but laugh after a while. But now, it’s not the case. He grimaces at the thin film coating the apples, eyes flicking to the imported country it came from. He only sighs, placing it lightly on the top of the pile and continuing down the aisle. What other fruits did you like? He cannot recall any that you’ve mentioned, Wooyoung being the one to insist on buying you peaches. It’s interesting that none of them asked you if you truly liked it, if it was your favorite fruit just as it was Rose’s. Another failure on their part, he supposes. In all honesty, he cannot recall you mentioning anything about peaches. He throws in a few vegetables he’s seen you eat without scrunching your nose, a warmth overcoming him at the image. Though you are not as close with him as many of the others, he enjoys your presence, nonetheless. If it were possible to somehow turn back time, make you see him as he is now, he would have. If it were so, maybe you’d see him in a different light. Maybe you would smile at him just as you do with Yeosang.

Or did, rather.

He sighs, placing his basket upon the counter and softly thanking the cashier for scanning. Just as he begins to bag a familiar scent fills his nose.

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, not bothering to glance back to see the man. “We have an agreement, Han. Or are you too isolated from the others that Subin cannot reign you in?”

“Your scent has always been in its best condition.” He enters his view, leaning against the wall as he watches him pack the food. “I’d never thought I'd see the day Park Seonghwa shopped in a market.”

“Come back at the same time in a few days and you’ll see me again.” He ties the bag, eyes flicking to his old friend’s. He looks sickly in comparison, skin translucent, eyes bloodshot. Even his hair looks thin and brittle, the long strands framing his face can easily fall with a high burst of wind. At another time, he’d feel pity. On another day, he’d even offer him some blood. But all he can do is shake his head, stepping past him.

“You treat me as if we were never friends, Park.”

“What do you expect me to do, welcome you with open arms?” Seonghwa holds the door for him. “We’ve had an agreement for over a century. And as you may know, it’s been broken a few times the past few months. Not wise to come here and break it even more.”

“I have not touched one human on your side.”

“That I can tell,” his breath is long as he turns back to him. “What do you want? Blood? I cannot give it to you, you know that. Joong would kill me before even touching you. And I'd rather keep all my limbs. They're quite helpful–"

"I don't care for blood, Park. If that were the case, I would have left long ago."

He doubts that entirely on his appearance alone. But he lets him speak. There's little chance for anything other than a few jabs here and there. Maybe an insult. "What do you desire then?"

"y/n is leaving," he starts. "Asking how I know is a moot point, but everyone knows. Clans beyond just ours. We aren't sure if Sejun shared it or not, but word is spreading. She will not be as safe as you think outside your walls. Once she is away, she will be hunted. Every vampire desires to taste the blood of the descendant of the first woman who was turned. Especially since she belongs to you all. It will not end well."

It is as he expected. Seonghwa grips his bag, thinking. The first thought is to tell Hongjoong, have him come up with a plan. The next, perhaps tell you of the danger? Have you stay longer in their care? He doubts you'd even consider it. But what other choice does he have? Letting you step outside and die? Seonghwa’s gaze moves to your old best friend's.

"What are you gaining out of telling me this?"

"Protection."

If his brows could furrow tighter, they would. "Pardon?"

He sighs loudly, glancing behind him before turning back around. "Subin is planning something big, and I need your word that you will protect me when it happens. I will do anything for my clan leader, but I cannot and will not risk my life for a woman I barely know."

"That's quite sad, seeing as she's been your friend for several years now."

"Seonghwa," He hisses.

"I cannot promise something that has no value. Unlike you, I am under the will of my captain. What he says goes. If he wants me to kill you at this very moment, I'd do it without hesitation. My loyalty is solid. I am sorry." And it is genuine. Having to nearly beg on your knees in front of your enemy for your life is not what he wishes upon any. It goes beyond pathetic. Almost revolting as he sees the defeat in Seungwoo's gaze.

"Will any of you ever think for yourselves? It's been hundreds of years and you are still under his thumb. It's pitiful. Especially for you, Seonghwa. He will never look at you the way he looks at her. Sooner or later you'll see that he will pick her every time."

His grip tightens around the bag in his hand. "My interpersonal relationships are of no consequence to you. And you're telling me things I already know. Do you think that I've spent these years deluded? I know where I stand in my relationships. But it seems that you still don't," he takes a step toward him. "I feel bad for you. Your clan leader is so involved with himself that he does not care about all of you. Hongjoong could care about me the least and he will never neglect me to the point I'd have to follow my enemy into a grocery store, and beg for protection. It's laughable, now that I look at you."

His lip quips at the glare forming on his face.

"Seems like I've been wrong about you. You're the same as the rest."

"That's your fault for taking my kindness for weakness, Han. Now go before one of the others appear. They don't take trespassing as lightly as I do."

Seungwoo stands there for a moment longer. He looks as if he wants to say more, but all he does is shake his head, disappearing down the street. Once he's out of view, Seonghwa sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Mild surprise is an understatement. He'd rather not deal with the aftermath of telling the others of his presence, but lying by omission will only make everything much worse.

He slides into his slippers just as he enters his home. There's always a few conversations happening when he enters, often Wooyoung bickering with San, or Mingi and Yunho teasing one another. But all he can hear is silence. He glances in the empty living room before entering the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table. Should he check up on you? Or have you left somewhere with the others? It's not uncommon for one of them to steal you without telling anyone else.

A door just outside the kitchen slams against the wooden pane, splintering from the force. Seonghwa winces, sighing. What happened now? He leaves his groceries unmanned, peeking out the kitchen doorway. Yunho stands there, pacing back and forth, gaze glossed over. He doesn't bother saying a word to him, Mingi stepping out of the room after him. His eyes flick to Seonghwa, widening before looking away.

Said man’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What happened?”

“He took her, hyung,” Mingi whispers, wincing as Yunho’s fist hits the wall beside him. “We were too slow, we didn’t get to her in time.” The steaming coffee in his hand spills, skin unaffected.

Without another word, Seonghwa moves past the both of them, striding down the hall. His eyes move to the small group of them crowding around your door. They step aside as he enters her room. The first thing he notices is the broken window, and no signs of you. All he could think is that you're gone. They lost you when you were underneath their roof. And he was out and about, unable to help.

Just like before.

“I’ll take care of you, y/n. I’m not like the rest of them,” his touch is rough, bumpy scars dragging along your cheek. You flinch but he only digs his nails deeper, forcing you to stare at him. Just as he leans forward, you let out a brief cry. His eyes narrow, letting you go. You tug on the metal that encases your ankles, grunting. It’s hopeless, fruitless, you know that. Especially with him standing there and watching you. But you’re desperate, your thoughts only on you leaving.

“What do you hope to achieve with this?” You ask, turning to him. “Do you think this kidnapping will make me trust you? Because I feel far from it, Sejun.”

“From what I remember you liked being tied up.”

“I am not Rose,” your tone is filled with exhaustion. It’s as if none of them listen. You’re not that woman, you’ll never be. No matter how much they desire it. “I”ll never be her. All of you need to move on for fuck’s sake.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “You don’t remember anything at all? Those little visions didn’t help you figure out that they’re fucked in the head? Vampirism doesn’t only force you to suck the blood out of humans forever, y/n. It does some crazy shit to you. Makes you believe things that aren’t true. They don't love you, never will.”

He leans against the wall. "You say you're not Rose but you are just as stubborn, just as oblivious. Though she did take the easy way out while you seem to be hanging on a bit longer," His head tilts as he loses himself in thought. "You said you were leaving, where are you going?"

"Home."

His brows furrow. "Home? You’ve decided to endanger your family because you're afraid of solving your own problems? Taking that great of a risk is not wise. They want you, and they will do anything for it. Your family will only end up being pawns. Though I am sure they know where they live, entering your family’s home is a death sentence."

"Then what can I do? They're all I have; none of my friends respond to my calls or texts, my apartment is flooded, I have nothing. All I have left is them, and I can't stay there," You can feel the tears threatening to fall. "Your brother poisoned me, you know that? He wanted me to be like them so desperately he fucking poisoned the peaches I ate."

A surprised laugh punctuates his sentence, shaking his head. "A bit of a shock, no? That kid loves human warmth more than anything. Thought he'd let you live longer than that. Must have ruffled his feathers in some way," he tsks. "Too late now, I suppose."

"Why did you pretend to be Seonghwa?" You ask, ignoring his harsh words. "Why would you try to convince me to stay?"

He shrugs, "To make you believe that I was actually him. I was taking you with me either way. Just easier for you to think I was him so we could leave without catching unnecessary attention. Unfortunately plans changed when you noticed my body temperature," he sighs, rubbing his forearm. "Pity that Hongjoong couldn't duplicate it for the rest of them. You wouldn't have noticed then."

"Why would he turn you?"

"Believe it or not," he rocks on his heels. "Him and I were good friends before this all happened. For a while. Longer than he's known the clan he's with now. Not as close, no, but I was the experiment of his. The first person he turned," his sigh is exaggerated, prolonged. "The person who made him into this didn't exactly like that. Made it so no one else could be as we are. He probably hates my existence now, but there's little he can do about it. Him and I are nearly the same age, give or take a few years. But that matters so little, so I digress."

There's something bothering you about his words. The possibility of him being the first turned is fine, sure. But it wouldn't make sense if he's Wooyoung's brother. He watches you as you think it through, head spinning. The way Wooyoung crumbled to the ground when he saw him, they must be related in some way. Devastation like that is hard to fake.

"Wooyoung and I are not blood brothers," he interrupts your thoughts, answering the lingering question. "He believes it because his captain convinced him. The reasoning is beyond my own knowledge, but I followed everything he said back then. Not as much now, since his influence no longer works on me. I've learned to ignore those deep whispers in my mind," he taps his temple. "Unfortunately, Wooyoung will never know. But lies fall from his lips anyway so he shouldn't be that disappointed."

"I saw how he looked at you, Sejun. He cares for you deeply, cared. He thought you were dead. He’d be broken if he found out the truth." The way his hold trembled against yours in that shop, the drop to the floor due to the onslaught of emotions. "You speak of him like he's an inconvenience."

"That he is," he shrugs. "You were my goal in the end, nothing more. His attachment to a man that died hundreds of years ago is none of my concern."

"Why me?"

This time he stares, eyes flicking over your body. It chills you the way his stare hardens, swallowing slowly. "When Rose was alive I made mistakes. It's nothing I can fix nor apologize for because she's dead. And before your thoughts stray, I am not obsessed with you like the others. I acknowledge that you are different. It is just that, the thought of there being another Rose was impossible in my mind. No, in fact, it was never a thought of mine. Once she died, the horror was over. All of us would be able to live our separate lives without ever meeting again. Subin made the choice of keeping an eye on them, which was a mistake, but in a way, a good thing. Neither of us would have found out about you.

"Hongjoong has always had this obsession with things that were out of his reach. The past is irrelevant now, but much of it can explain why he is the way he is now. To put it simply: He has been in love with every iteration of you. And every time he gets close, he loses you. Rose, her mother, her grandmother. I thought the line would have ended since Rose was unable to have children. Unfortunately her soul still lives on," His nose wrinkles. "Thousands of years have only made the obsession fester rather than dissipate. Your appearance resembling Rose has only amplified his delusions. None of this is your fault, y/n. If it were possible to change your face, your soul, it would have been done already. I owe that much to your prior life,” his eyes flick over you, pained. “Saying sorry to you means nothing because you’re not her, but I am. I am deeply apologetic.”

You take in his words, eyes glued to the floor. Rose had a hard life from the glimpses you’ve witnessed. She struggled every waking moment, moreso when she met this clan. You’re not sure what happened between her and Sejun, but from the way he speaks they were involved somehow. Romantically more than likely; from what you’ve seen, Rose enjoyed her extracurricular activities. And Sejun is far from ugly. You suck in a breath, thinking. Is there any way to convince him to let you go? It may be unlikely since he infiltrated their home just to get you. So why, what is the reason?

“What are you planning on doing with me, then?”

He swallows slowly. “I owe Subin. To put it simply: I fucked up back then and ruined everything. I never got the chance to apologize to him, so I told him I’ll do him a favor. He wanted you, so I agreed. It would have been farther down the line, but Hanse is dead now. He only has a few left in his clan and he doesn’t want to risk any of them. So he asked me to get you. I’m supposed to bring you to him right now actually, but I wanted to speak to you alone. Hopefully get a look into that head of yours, and see what you’re thinking. So far there’s nothing interesting.”

“An insult, how kind of you,” you frown. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I can see why it’s hard for them to tell the difference. You’re more alike than you think.”

“The restraints then?” you gesture to them. “Do you expect me to run? I wouldn’t get far, anyway.”

“You still tugged on them a bit. And it’s easier to speak to you without having to chase you around this room," he slides down the wall, sitting. "Maybe try to change your mind about going back to them after this all blows over."

"... I'm not going back."

He chuckles dryly, "Right. Just like the sun isn't going to rise tomorrow. Listen, Subin is going to attempt to kill you."

"What the fuck?" You pull harshly on the chains. "And you expect me to just agree?"

"Who the hell would agree to that?" He scoffs. "No, I'm warning you before we get there. Just because I owe him a favor doesn't mean I'm gonna let you walk in there blind. Rose back then wanted him to kill her if she was close to turning, and he agreed to it. In his mind he believes the promise is still valid despite you two being different people. Tell him no, and agree to his plan that he suggests otherwise. We will move from there."

"We, there's still a we in this? How can I believe anything you're saying?"

He stands, moving closer to you. He tugs lightly, chains immediately falling apart in his grip. "There's no reason for you to. You shouldn't believe any of us in all honesty. All of us have our agendas. Mine just happens to line up with yours. I don't want you to die. Not like this. Not again. Suffering in another life because of all of us. It's hard to believe I know that, but what options do you have? Subin, the kid that wants to bury you? Your newly adopted clan that's willing to turn you into one of them without your permission? Again? Rough choices."

You rub your wrist as you look up at him. He crouches and pulls off the restraints around your ankles. There are choices. You can run, eventually get caught by one of them. Try to kill them, though you are very aware of how that ended for Rose. And you have less than half of the confidence and strife she had back then. You couldn't even watch the man who poisoned you suffer, unlikely you'd be able to hurt any of them yourself. Running home. Risking your family– No. You look at Sejun. You cannot trust him, but what else can you do? What other choice do you have?

"I don't trust you."

"I know."

"All of this, in the end, will I be free?"

He stares at you. "Honestly? Probably not. I might die before we get to the end. Actually, I'm pretty sure I will when Hongjoong finds me," he rubs the back of his neck. "But I'm not afraid of death. It's been long enough. I'll try my best to lend you my knowledge before I go. I'll leave the rest to you."

There's something else.

"Sejun," you start, slowly standing. "What were you to Rose?"

He grins, "An asshole ex, y/n."

“Did you…?” You don’t say the words.

“I had a temper back then. I hurt her accidentally plenty of times, yes. But after the first time, is it really an accident?” He keeps his gaze to the floor. “I hurt her even if I thought I didn’t mean it. I did it. Just another part of her suffering back then. I’d do anything to change back time, somehow remove myself from Hongjoong, from her life. I deserve to suffer twice as long as she has. I can help you now.”

"We have to get her."

"No," Hongjoong adjusts his coat, frowning as he pulls off a dust ball. "She made her choice. She wants us gone, she wants to leave, then let her. No more rescue missions, no more devoting our hours to her. Let her go."

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, "You have to understand that I do not believe a word falling from your lips."

Hongjoong snickers, shrugging. "Then that is so. Either way, it is unwise for any of you to go running after her. It is for her own good. She refused to trust us and our words, so she will suffer the consequences. She will see what it means to have us removed from her life."

Yeosang steps closer, "He may hurt her–"

"A few bruises never hurt anyone," he points out. "You know that well."

His hands slowly form into fists as he glares at him. Hongjoong notes this, tilting his head as he stares at his friend. "What will you do, hm? Go against my words? You know you don't have to follow them. You can run after her if you'd like. She would probably want to see you the most. As she always has."

"You will not stop us?" Yunho's brows furrow, arms crossed against his chest. "That is unlike you."

"Because I know you will see how unsuccessful the venture will be. He will not go down without a fight. He will kill every single one of you because he is nearly as strong as I. Have you forgotten? He has the privilege, he is older than you all. Human blood still runs through his veins. The only one who stands a chance is myself, and I want to teach her a lesson. So go if you like, lose your lives so that I am the only one remaining. I am sure she would enjoy it."

The others say nothing. Jongho is the first to break the silence.

"Then what will we do?"

His wild, cheshire grin stuns them. "We go to our show. We perform, and we feed. I will tell you the next step then."

“Pull yourself together.”

San watches as Yeosang paces back and forth, fists clenching and unclenching. He has rarely ever seen him filled with this much fury, thoughts seemingly scattered as he ignores every word San attempts to tell him. San tried to stop his pacing but was met with such angst that he moved out of the way, letting him continue. Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair, breaths heavy as he controls his breathing.

“It’s been days. Subin will kill her,” he starts, looking at San. “There is no doubt in it. y/n will die.”

“We aren’t certain of it—”

“He’s spoken about it for centuries, San. Centuries. A day with her isn’t going to change his mind and we both know it. She’s going to die,” Yeosang holds himself up against the wall, unable to handle the onslaught of emotions cascading from him. He’s forced himself to not feel for all this time, to push back the thoughts that caged him inside of this body, made him ill for an unknown amount of time. But how can he stand here and listen to Hongjoong? He finally has you, and he’s already lost you once more. “If she dies–”

“You will not perish along with her,” Wooyoung enters the room, shooting San a look. “Control yourself Yeosang, I thought you were over this.”

He shakes his head, gaze lifting from the floor to look at his friend. “Do not stand there and pretend all of this isn’t your fault. You poisoned her and you made me lie. You influenced my hand without my permission. When you explicitly told me you’d never use your hold against me again, you did. And now we’ve lost her.”

“I poisoned her for everyone’s sake. She would have been ours. Right, Sannie?” Wooyoung looks at his closest friend, “Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?”

San swallows softly, looking between his two friends. It’s been like this ever since Wooyoung turned Yeosang. A push and pull between the three of them, a longing in Wooyoung’s eyes as he desperately wanted Yeosang to accept him as he is, followed by refutation every single time. Growing closer with San because of it, the relationship between the trio strained. He rubs his face, thinking.

“I want her, yes,” he says simply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with either of them. He’s learned that it is best to toe the line, never choosing a side. “But it is likely we might not ever see her again if we continue down this path.” Not until now, of course.

Wooyoung’s bright smile wavers, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“If you don’t understand his words then you never will, Woo,” Yeosang says softly. “All he has ever done is try to nurture you, to accept you as you are now, mourn who you once were. We all have at some point. But it is hard when your mind is so diluted with need for her that you cannot think properly. How many times must we go through this to try and make you see that what you’re doing is not okay?”

“I’ve been this way long enough for you to get used to it,” he sucks his teeth. “And don’t place all the blame on me. It wasn’t my idea to flood her apartment. I wasn’t the one who killed her friend. We all have a role in this. I’m sorry if you loved the pathetic man I was before, he’s been gone for hundreds of years now.”

“You call him pathetic,” Yeosang whispers. “But I called him my best friend.”

Wooyoung steps closer to him, crouching down to meet his gaze. “Called, you say? Am I no longer that? Do you no longer consider me your best friend?”

He says nothing then, the tension thickening in the room. Wooyoung takes several steps toward him, San standing in the way. He merely laughs at his friend, pushing him aside. He stands just before Yeosang, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Do you consider me your best friend, Kang Yeosang?”

Yeosang swallows. Though he does not say it, Wooyoung can see the twitch of his lip, the slight shake of his head. It is enough to push him to the edge. His eyes darkened, red slowly fading.

“You will listen to my words now and follow them,” his fingers dig into Yeosang’s shoulder as he stares down at him. “Every word that I tell y/n you will agree is true. You will convince her that I am not as bad as she may think, and you will do it diligently. If she does not believe you after days of trying…” Wooyoung trails off, eyes glazed over. “If she does not believe you, you will leave this home. And you will not remember me being the one to tell you this."

“Wooyoung—” Yeosang’s eyes widen, trying to remove himself from his grip.

“Enough.”

They all turn to the new arrival, Yunho leaning against the door frame. He frowns at them all, lingering on Yeosang’s crouched body, Wooyoung’s grip. Said man lets him go, though there is a sly smile on his lips. “Hongjoong found out where she is.”

“Do we go against his word?”

“Is there any other way? We’ve followed along with him for centuries with little protest. Of course, there will come a time when we do not. And that time is now,” Yunho stretches his hands through the sweater, adjusting it in the mirror. “We do this on our own.”

“Hongjoong said we’d be killed.”

“And you believe him?”

Wooyoung purses his lips, eyes shifting to Seonghwa in the corner of the room. “There was never a reason for me not to."

“A lot of things you don’t know about, Wooyoung,” Yunho tosses Seonghwa his bag, scoffing at how the man dodges it, letting it fall to the floor. “He isn’t coming with us so there’s no need to worry about him.”

“He’ll tell captain.”

“Probably,” Yunho shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. “Hongjoong could stop us if he wants to. Doubt it though.”

“Why?”

Yunho sighs, turning back to him. “When were you ever one to ask so many questions? You usually follow.”

“It’s…” Wooyoung’s eyes shift to Yeosang, noticing how the man is curled on the floor, eyes shut. There’s little he can do to persuade him to come unless he forces him to, but he’s dealt with those consequences already. Doing it again will only feed his benefit, and no one else’s. Wooyoung sighs, buttoning up the leather jacket he does not need, shifting his eyes to San in the far corner. He leans against the wall, watching the two of them. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Not long,” Yunho shrugs. “They brought her to our club.”

This catches the attention of the others in the room, Seonghwa’s eyes widening at the news. Yeosang still does not move from his spot, even as San nudges his body. A knock on the door interrupts them, Hongjoong standing there silently.

“Ready?”

They tense, only causing him to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t go alone. There will be others to handle there other than Subin,” he glances at Wooyoung. “I’m going to kill him for good this time. You know that right?” He does not utter the name, but he sees how his body shifts at the thought. “Having him linger around is not wise, Woo. Especially around y/n.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes briefly. “I know that.”

“Then I need your word you will not interfere when I do so.”

He sucks in a breath, nodding. “You have it."

Hongjoong chuckles dryly. “Great. You’re staying here with Yeosang.”

“Captain—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping his incoming rant. “No need to protest because I will continue to stand here and deny your requests until I am blue in the face. No. You’re not coming, and you’re staying with the man you’ve manipulated for months on end. These are only the consequences of your own actions, Wooyoung," he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. "Did you believe I would let you off the hook just because she favors you? I have not forgotten what you were doing. If she were not there, you would no longer be on this Earth.” He tilts his head, thinking. “I could persuade her that you are a danger and truly remove you from our sights, but that would be unfair to the others. In their minds, some part of the old Wooyoung exists beneath the one we see today. But I’ve spoken too much. Yunho, San, let’s go.”

Hongjoong does not bother to acknowledge Seonghwa sitting on the opposing side of the room, exiting without another word. San nods at the others, following behind Yunho and his captain. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the three alone.

Freedom only seems to mock you as you gaze upon it only a few steps away, lit by the fire encased inside lanterns adorning the hallways. It is of no fault of your own that you missed how eerie it truly is inside of their club; consumed by loud music and screaming concert-goers. Still you can’t help but scoff at the blatantly obvious red flags only steps away from the door. Perhaps everyone else was too intoxicated to notice the strange markings on the walls, the endless hallways. All of it brings strange feelings within you, auras of discomfort. Spending time here without the crowds of people makes it seem all the more odd. If it weren’t for Sejun pulling you into the back room, you would have left without a second thought given.

“Their allurement is what makes this place lively. Without them it only feels like a creepy box,” he says, matching your thoughts entirely. “They never needed to clean up this place; blood stains the floors and walls. Disgusting if we truly think about it, though Seonghwa himself tries his best to make it look at least presentable. Now he doesn’t have much time to do so since he spends his days with you.”

If there was a semblance of jealousy in his words you cannot find it. He drops your wrist, shutting the stage door behind him as he paces back and forth. He seems unsettled, and you don’t speak up to make him even more so. His eyes flick to you, narrowing when they meet. “Subin told me he’d be here.”

“And I was not lying about it, friend,” his voice appears just behind you, goosebumps covering your skin. You turn around, meeting the deep, tired eyes of Rose’s brother. He nods at you, glancing around to look at Sejun. “Did they follow you?”

“They’re too preoccupied in their own snags to pay attention to their surroundings. Though I’m fairly certain Jongho has figured it out by now, he seems attune to her scent the most.”

“Our time is limited, then,” Subin sighs, focusing back on you. He takes a step forward only for you to mirror him. He tilts his head back in exasperation. “They will come for you soon y/n, it’s best to end this now.”

“End what exactly? I’ve spoken to you twice in the past few months, and we never discussed anything ‘ending’. Be more specific.”

A smile rests on his face, “Never-ending in your quick wit even after hundreds of years passed.” He rests against the familiar seat, one you sat in when you first met them all; the beginning of your descent into their hands. If you knew then, you would have never accepted your friend’s invitation to the performance. Things would be different. He seems to know it as well, fingers brushing against the leather cushions.

"When you were my sister, you spoke to me about ending your life if you were ever in danger of being turned into one of them. Us, rather. Back then I was too involved with the captain to take your words to heart, but by the time I realized you were in peril I was too late. You’ve already died. I mourned for you, for the loss of ever knowing you, and I thought that was done. I accepted your fate. But seeing you now, after Hanse told me of your presence in the club, it felt like almost a favor. I have always been quite a religious man, so it must have been an act of God. He’s given me another opportunity to save you. Who would I be if I didn’t take it?”

Oh, they are all misguided, aren’t they? Sejun does not seem to believe his words either, rolling his eyes as Subin speaks.

“You believe that I would want you to kill me now?” You furrow your brows. “You do understand that we are not the same people?”

“Outer appearance does not matter, though you look eerily alike,” he notes, “It was a promise I plan to keep, y/n. There’s no reason for me to break it now.”

“Well I do have one.” You have several, in fact. “I am not her, so the promise does not hold true. And I do believe you have bigger problems. You have no more places to feed, Subin. That’s something you should be worried about.” And forget about you completely, hopefully. "Continuing to follow me around when I'm with them is not a good idea."

"You wish to be with men that would kill anyone who speaks to you?" His brows furrow. "You're worried for me because you know they'll kill me if given the chance. That's who you desire to be with? Are you sure of your choice?"

"Hongjoong said he wouldn't–" you stop in the middle of your diatribe, remembering the switch of tone, the evil lurking in his gaze when he proclaimed that he'd kill Subin. "I'm leaving them so you don't need to worry anymore. Just leave me alone, come up with a compromise that doesn't lead to your death. Rose and I both will be happy if you stay alive." As alive as a vampire can be. But you digress.

"Rose hated me," Subin frowns. "When I became like this she hated it. She would have killed me if she saw me alive today, not let me live. That is the difference between the two of you. Rose hated vampires, hated the bloodshed, hated being one. You do not hate it. They will take advantage of that. They already have. You were being poisoned by Wooyoung and you saved him. Do you realize how tightly they've dug themselves into your life? You saved the monster that was slowly killing you. You didn't run out of fear, leave immediately. You saved him. How can you not see?"

Sejun scoffs from his corner, shaking his head. "Fucking hell."

There’s no use in questioning how he knows, all of these vampires seem to know things you’ve never uttered. "I'm already gone, I can go somewhere. Maybe abroad, I don't know," you stumble over your words, knowing it's of no use. They will find you anywhere. Your time apart will be brief, until you see them stumbling into somewhere you've escaped to. So you say the only thing you can think of.

"I don't want to die, Subin. I've barely lived."

Subin’s brows furrow, eyes filled with sorrow. "Is that what you desire? Do you truly want to live the rest of your life in fear of them? Unable to run away?"

No. That's not what you want. "I want to live as I did before and I know it's not possible anymore. But do I have no other choice than death? There's nothing else I can do?"

"There are few things in this world that make Hongjoong weak. Though most he would never admit to."

"Care to share?"

"That makeshift family of is," he waves his hand, nose wrinkled. "He will never say the words himself, but they are the remainder of humanity he has left. I am sure he has told both you and Rose, but he wasn't this… caring when it came to humans. Not until he met those seven. Especially Wooyoung. He is quite fond of Sejun’s brother even if he would kill him in just a brief moment," he furrows his brows in thought. "I am sure it will haunt him until the end of his days."

You can't imagine hurting any of them. Their past is something that often buries itself in the back of your mind, but never irks you. Killing them to get back at Hongjoong will never be a choice of yours. Even Wooyoung, the man who slowly poisoned you. It is all stupid and ridiculous when you think deeply about it. But so is love, unfortunately.

"And you, y/n," he says. "You are his weakness. He will kill every single person on this planet so that you're content. I would advise to never divulge what your past partners have done, or old friends. They would end up in the back of the papers soon enough. Now that I think of it though, you can use that to your advantage. He is infatuated with you. Make him believe you love him the same, then kill him."

"Kill him?" Rose back then would have done it without a second thought. But you? You step on a small beetle by accident and it ruins your week. Making Hongjoong fall for your lies then killing him… it's unimaginable. "That's the only choice I have?"

"y/n, listen to my words carefully." He bends his knees, balancing on the edges of his feet as he meets your eyes. "Hongjoong will not stop until he gets what he wants. He has waited hundreds of years to have you. He is smart – he will be able to read the lies you feed him."

Subin’s eyes flick behind you, before meeting your gaze again. "Every creature can be killed. Even abominations like us. That you know from Hanse's death. If you would like, I can tell you our weaknesses. I couldn't save you back then, I was too late. But if you would let me, I can save you now. I can show you how to, to finish the plan that Rose couldn't complete herself."

Kill them?

The thought pains you. It's the last thing you want. But seeing how tortured they are, how easily they could switch their personalities, how they more than likely forced Rose to become a vampire, how Wooyoung attempted the same for you.

You have no choice.

You glance back at Sejun, his snickers and jabs silent now, wanting for your response. You turn back to Subin, Rose's brother. His expression doesn't give away anything, patiently waiting for you to decide. You close your eyes, ignore how much your chest hurts at even considering it. Pushing through your heart's desire, you nod slowly.

"Okay."

Hongjoong is the first to enter, hands resting against his back. His shoes echo across the hardwood. Though he cannot quite decipher who is in the room with you, he can smell you. And that scent overpowers them all. Yunho and San follow just behind him, blades in hand, coated with poison. Subin has kept to himself for decades now, barely interfering with the others. Your presence has brought them happiness, but has led to this. Not that any of them mind, really. If it meant that they would have you, they’d do anything for it.

“They’re here,” Sejun stands, moving closer to you. “We don’t have time. Remember what we’ve told you?” He asks, fingers wrapping around your bicep. “We are going to die, and you will do everything possible to stop them. Do you understand?”

“They wouldn’t–”

“They would, my dear sister,” Subin says simply, eyes flicking to the door. “I’m quite sad that we were not given the chance to catch up once again, but I do hope if there is some afterlife, I can meet Rose.” His jaw tightens, hands slipping behind his back. “Promise you will rid of them soon.”

You hesitantly nod, and he gives you a small grin back. “Of course, I will have to show them a bit of blood to get them going. It will be quick, y/n. They'll heal you, alright?"

"What–"

Your sentence is cut off by the sharp blade pushed into your stomach. Sejun’s eyes widen as Subin slowly slides it out of you, the pain too overwhelming for you to even utter a sound, falling to your knees. Your hands immediately go to the cut, gasps falling from your lips as you turn down to look at it. He pushed it in deep, the blood spilling down your shirt quickly, staining the hardwood floors. He throws his arm back too quick for you to prepare, his fist landing against your cheek.

Sejun’s eyes burn into Subin’s. “You idiot–”

The door is thrown open, Sejun backing away from the two of you as they enter. You can't quite concentrate on what's happening, the sounds of murder happening around you. Shouting and screaming, bones breaking, the smell of blood filling the air. Sejun is thrown down next to you. Several cuts covering his skin, brown blood spilling from his wounds. He coughs, grabbing one of your hands. Forcing you to focus on his words.

"Kill them," his grip on your hand is tight. You can barely see his eyes through the blood covering his face, his hold growing weaker as the seconds pass. "Kill them and you'll finally be free."

Blood splatters in your eyes, covering your face just as he finishes his words. Hongjoong from just behind you drives the stick deeper into his chest, grunting the more force he puts into it.

Your vision blurs as you stare at the blackened blood dripping down your hand, disappearing beneath your sleeve. This was never something that you wanted, despite it being in their plan. Sejun was not supposed to die. You do not doubt that he's done things to Rose in the past, things lost to you. But he's helped since you've spoken to him. It's silly to be upset about his death, but here you are. Staring down at his bloodied body, fingers slowly curling into your palm, hands trembling. Your eyes lift to the murderer, eyes wide as he stares at the body beneath him. He touches his face, smearing his skin with whatever poison he used. The exact one Subin provided for you just moments ago.

"Joong…"

He turns around, expression softening when he sees how distraught you look. His warm fingers brush against your cheek. You wince at the touch as he apologizes for pressing too hard against your skin. His lips press against your forehead, a sorry escaping them. You welcome his touch, sighing as he pulls you against him. His smell encompasses you, your sore wrists aching as you grip his leather coat. He lifts you with ease, your lids too swollen for you to open them. Is it tears? You're not too sure.

The room is quiet. No longer do you hear the crunching of limbs, the muffled screams as they ripped Sejun apart. No. All you can hear is the way your heartbeat throbs in your ear, the breaths of Hongjoong as he guides you out of the room. How foolish of you to believe that you did not need him? That you were so stubborn to see that without him, you would be safe? In the end you're still entrapped in his embrace, softened at the delicate care he does to bring you safely back to his clan, his coven. Your thoughts no longer linger on Sejun, or her brother, or any of the others, in fact.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, the sensitive cuts on your lips tingling as heavy breaths escape. "I should have trusted you." Why are you saying this? Why do the words not feel like your own?

"None of this is your fault," he whispers. "Trusting someone is a difficult task to undertake. Please do not speak anymore until you're able, alright?"

You cough, blood spilling from your lips. His eyes shift to your stomach. Without another word he drags his blade across his arm, lifting your shirt and pressing it against your cut. You gasp, gripping his forearm as he pushes it harshly. He whispers something you don’t bother to understand, holding you close.

The part of you that screamed for you to push him away is silent now. You can only tuck yourself further against him, feel the vibrations of his chest as he hums a song to you. You cannot quite place it, but it feels familiar. He does not begin conversation with you, asking how this happened. Instead he carries you out into the night, holding you close as he enters a car. You hear the soft voice of San speaking to him, their voices low enough that you do not bother straining to listen.

The scene you blocked out suddenly begins to replay in your head. Yunho appeared. You see the glimpse of Seungwoo behind your eyes over and over– when did he arrive? The terrible, garbled scream that left her brother– Subin’s, chest. The sickening sounds of him dying. Did Rose hear this often? How was she able to handle it; the carnage, the smell, the sounds? They only seem to roll on a tape over and over again in your mind.

"What can I do?"

You know he's speaking to you, lips dry as you run your tongue over the cracks, the metal taste coating your tongue. "Nothing." Time passing is only making your head spin. Where's Hongjoong? When did the car start moving? Will you ever see your family again?

"...Okay," San says simply. Hongjoong must have left some time ago, the hum of the car is the only sound around you. "I can't lose you again." His voice is softer. You force an eye open. His fingers are curled around the steering wheel, body rigid. His eyes flick to the rearview often, fingers fidgeting. You're not too sure what your relationship with him is – he's avoided you for weeks now. Now though, you can see how he thinks he cares for you, worry coating his face. His shirt is stained just like the others. Did he kill? Was it Seungwoo? Sejun? Subin? It's all a blur to you now.

How could you pretend to care for any of them when you want to run away? "You will," you respond, lids heavy. "You have already."

"Is there nothing I can do–"

"Yes, there's nothing." Why lie? Why continue the lies that they've started? There is not a moment where you could look at any of them and feel some sort of happiness. "You've lied."

"Rose."

"And you've never called me by my name despite me desperately asking for it, San. You've treated me like the woman you've once loved since we met, and you expect me to love you back? You don't see me." Your throat hurts as you speak to him, but you've wanted to let it out. Show him how it feels to be treated like her. "Let's no longer pretend that you do."

He does not respond. You tuck your legs further into your body. You told him you wouldn't lie, but why does it feel like you are? Why the fuck do you care so much about these men that could give two shits about you? To the point that they're slowly carving you into Rose, a woman that despised their very being? And why are you so desperate for them to see you as yourself, as a human woman completely disconnected from your prior life? Have you so deeply involved yourself that you need their love, their affection? Is that why you've fallen for many of them so easily?

How the hell did that wound on your stomach heal so fast?

"I'm sorry, y/n."

What you find behind San's door shouldn't be as surprising as it is. His bed is in pieces, wooden beams scattered across the floors, sheets ripped into throwaway fabrics, pillow feathers floating around the room. Most furniture is destroyed. You take slow steps into the room, hand resting on the edge of the only intact piece: his desk. Fear slowly swallows you as you read the notes you see. Your name is written over and over. Neat in the beginning, slowly losing legibility as it goes on. By the end of the page the characters are mixed together, blood staining the page, paper punctured from how hard he pressed. One line is written clearly at the top of the page.

I will say your name, y/n.

It's been a couple of days since you've gotten back from your kidnapping, from that massacre in the backrooms of Clair de Lune. The smell of death still hasn't left your nose. It's the first time you've left your room, the men leaving your food outside of it, avoiding you in the hallways if you decided to leave. You would thank them under different circumstances, but now you know it's only because they don't want you to ever leave them.

Which bears the question on exactly why you haven't left yet. The blatant warnings are there. Wooyoung was legitimately poisoning you slowly. Many of the others must have known about it. So why are you still here? Why can't you make yourself leave?

Why does it feel like you can't?

"Are you alright?"

You glance at the door, Mingi and Seonghwa standing there. Mingi's arms rest against his chest, a slight limp as he enters. He still has not fully healed from the basement incident, though he looks healthier in complexion. Especially in comparison to you.

"He left," Mingi glances at Seonghwa, eyes flicking back to yours. "For a walk."

"Did the captain tell him to?" You ask, and Mingi shakes his head.

"He left on his own. As you can see," Mingi gestures to the surrounding area. "He's been a bit distraught since you've come back home. He thought leaving would help his mind settle. Mellow out for a while. Yeosang joined him."

"Yeosang?" Is that why you haven't seen him? You presumed that he was avoiding you, but it seems to be the opposite. Yeosang is the only one you could tolerate being around without getting upset, and now he's gone.

"He deals with San during these moments the best. Everyone agreed that he should join him to keep him in check. They shouldn't be gone for too long, so no need to worry."

Worrying is all that you do; especially for them.

But you only acknowledge his words with a quick nod, hands lingering on the edge of the desk. You have not seen Hongjoong either, though it is probably due to your insistence on not allowing him to enter your room. The others begged and pleaded for you to give him a chance – but how could you? His half promises and lack of care for your well-being has left you numb. Before meeting them, you were sure with your emotions, your feelings. Now you only feel like a shell of yourself. You rub your face, ignoring the two men watching as you go through your emotions.

“What will we do now, then?” your eyes shift to the side, noticing that Mingi left already. Strange how quiet a man of his size can be.

Seonghwa slowly moves into the room, arms resting against his chest. “Shall we have a meeting when they come back? I know that you still want to leave, so we can speak about it—”

“Seonghwa,” You lean against the table, wincing as your hip brushes against the wood. His eyebrows furrow as he glances at your hip, only for you to wave him off. “We’ve done enough talking to last a thousand lifetimes.” With how effortlessly Sejun manipulated you into thinking he was truly Seonghwa, there’s little doubt that one of the guys wouldn’t be able to persuade you to stay. Especially with the way he’s looking at you now. No wonder Rose fell for them with ease. It hurts you to even say the words.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is softer, eyes glued to the wooden floors. “I wasn’t here when he took you away. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head. “I should have noticed it wasn’t you from the start. The words you were saying were a bit…” Cheesy? Out of character? Overwhelming for the moment? Now that you think back to Sejun practically begging on his knees, his eyes were not his. They were a deeper brown. Seonghwa rarely, if ever, showed his brown eyes to you. Only in public, never in private. The truth was right in front of you, but you were too overcome with the events that passed to even recognize it.

“Did he speak poetry?” Seonghwa’s lip lifts, a smirk forming. “Sejun used to make fun of me often for my verbiage. I think he referred to it as having a stick up my ass.” You place your hand over your mouth, a laugh escaping. Seonghwa’s grin widens, light chuckles leaving his lips. “And now you laugh because you find it to be true.”

“It’s not… well, you do speak a bit proper sometimes. I just assumed it was because of your past. From a prestigious family?”

His eyes widen briefly, lips finally curving into a full smile. “Rose assumed the same of me when we first met. Maybe I do need to loosen my lips a bit more,” he sighs. “But nevertheless, I am apologetic."

He easily slides past the question about his family, but you let him have it. It’s not like you exactly overshare when it comes to yours. A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, Hongjoong lingering in the doorway. Seonghwa moves to the side, sending you a quick look before departing. Hongjoong remains unchanged from the night they found you. Your blood still stains his clothing, hair tousled, eyes red. He looks like he’s worse off in comparison to you. Just as Hongjoong begins to speak, you interrupt.

“Thank you.”

Your words stun him momentarily, raised hand falling to his side. You could almost smile at his shocked expression if you weren’t so exhausted. You hold your hand against the bandage covering your stomach. It’s barely scabbed over, blood still coating the gauze.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say again. “It’s more than what I’ve asked for but thank you. I’m not sure if I would have survived another day.” It’s very likely that you would have, especially with Sejun there. But stroking his ego might somewhat increase your chances to come out of this place alive. Vampirism isn’t something you exactly dreamed of undergoing.

“You’re not furious with me?” He asks his question slowly, eyes glued to your face. “Not in the slightest?”

“Why would I be angry at you for what Sejun and Subin did?” At least this part is somewhat true.

He swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips as he turns on his heels to the door, he shuts it behind him. "Did Sejun ever explain the reasoning as to why we separated?"

You shake your head, slowly sinking down into the stool in front of San's dresser. His face changes as he simmers in his thoughts.

"Sejun was supposed to watch her," Hongjoong's words almost feel desperate as he speaks to you, pacing around the ottoman. He stops in front of the bed, running his fingers through his hair, thinking. He seems to steady himself as he wraps his hand around one of the bed's pillars. "Rose. It was supposed to be brief but our ship needed maintenance so we stayed away a few months longer. That's when he wooed her, made her fall in love. It was my fault. When he arrived back on ship he told me all of his tales were false. I thought it was to get close to her brother. But when Rose appeared in front of me and told me of his sins, I could not take it," his grip on the pillars hardened, eyes narrowing. The concerned man he just showed you disappears in that instant. It only frightens you how easily he can turn his emotions. You sink further into the stool.

"I tore him from limb to limb, I let the others watch. I thought that was the end of it, no one could survive something like that, not even a vampire. His body was burned and thrown into the sea. So seeing him standing in that shop, none of it made any sense. It still doesn't. It is a pity that I was filled with so much rage I did not get the chance to ask."

He lets a sigh escape him, "And I allowed him into our home, allowed him to take you."

Your brows furrow. "No one knew he took me–"

He holds up his hand, "I knew. Do you think I do not know everything that goes on? Though I was mistaken and presumed he was himself, not disguised as Seonghwa to lure you. If any of us were there we would have seen through his shadow self. But it's harder for humans to."

The realization sinks into you slowly. You knew you were not safe with any of them, especially with him. But hearing him actually say it, express it–

“I allowed him to take you because you told us you did not need us. That you were okay on your own. And I wanted to honor your wishes so I let it happen. And you saved yourself, did you not? You allowed us to kill him with ease, Ro– y/n!" He smiles at you, true joy lining his features. "You saved yourself without our help, we just cleaned the mess."

Your eyes flick between his. "You let him take me. He brought me to Subin who almost killed me, and you let him take me.”

"You said you did not need saving, my sea. I let you make your own choices."

"Being kidnapped is not a choice, Hongjoong! If it were any of you I would have tried to help, not watch you be taken. Do you hear yourself? Do you?" You straighten your back, anger slowly rising. "I know you're mad, but this is beyond what I expected."

He tsks, wiggling his index finger as he silences you. "No no, this is exactly what you should expect. You do not want us involved with your affairs. You want to leave. I'm not going to go against your word when you insist on it being followed."

“Oh my God,” you rub your face, “What am I doing here? Why did I let you take me back here? This isn’t like me, I’d never do anything like this,” You stop speaking, turning your eyes to him. He keeps his small smile on his face, watching your breakdown. Elated at the way he’s affecting you. Hongjoong does not care. He never has no matter how much he proclaims it. There’s no remorse, not a hint of regret. “You want me to depend on you when you let me go?”

“You wanted it.”

“Hongjoong.”

He moves closer to you, hands covering yours. You try to pull from his grip but it only tightens.

“You fucking wanted it, Cassia,” His eyes widen, a laugh escaping his lips. It seems like he’s detached from himself, words spilling from his lips. “You wanted me to go away so I let you. I let you fucking leave me, leave me alone. What am I to do? I was so desperate for you. Everyone in the village wanted you but you looked at me. You told me you needed space to grow, to breathe. You looked me in my eyes and said that you wanted to be with me forever but you needed time. So I let you go, I let you follow that asshole monk. How was I to know what was going to happen? How could I guess what he would do?”

He moves closer to you, not noticing how frozen you are. His hand slowly reaches up, cupping your cheek. “I killed him for you, I let his blood run the streets. I burned down the monastery for you. I gutted those terrible parents of yours, those friends that never loved you. The village that always made fun of you, called you a whore because they were envious of your beauty. And you cursed me, you damned me. Why would you do that? I did it all for you, for your adoration, for your love, and you pushed me away? You let me become as I am now. I love you, I’ve always loved you. I’m here now, can’t you see? I’m showing you that I will do anything for you, kill anyone for you. Do you not understand this?”

He moved away, pressing his hands on his temples, eyes widening, red streaks falling down his cheeks. He claws at his face, hysterical laughs escaping him. “I will kill him. I will kill them all for you. I let you love them before me and this is what I am repaid for? Your hatred as payment for loving you with everything that I have? We can be happy if you let us. If you see what I will do for you.”

His eyes flick to you, horror filling them when he sees how frightened you look, how you’ve pulled your legs close, arms wrapped around them. Flinching when he meets your gaze. He swallows, licking his lips as he stands. “I will, I’ll be back. One of the others can watch you while I’m gone, okay? Okay, C– my sea?”

He does not wait for your response, turning on his heel, the door swinging open. With his quick pace he does not seem to notice the others just outside the door, deep in his own thoughts as he disappears down the hallway. You blink quickly, still tense as a few of the others enter. A hand touches your shoulder and you flinch. You look up, meeting the gaze of worried San, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Steady, hold it steady.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you winch, staring at him slowly stitching up the wound. Somewhere in between your conversation with Hongjoong, the stitches broke open. Though you insisted on a hospital rather than an unsterile, small room, they heard none of it. Especially Yeosang, his soft eyes filled with fear when he saw you. He mustered up the best smile he could before leaving you alone. It’s unlike him to check up on your condition; he asked Wooyoung and Jongho plenty of times just outside the door when they thought you were asleep. Your mind moves to Hongjoong, immediately pushing the thought away just as it comes. Breaking that moment down in your mind will only lead to more madness. The one thing you cannot afford to fall into right now.

“Pretty?” San nudges you slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Your look at him, noting the bruised lip, the dried slit in his brow. Yours furrow looking at him, swallowing slowly. They saved you again and all you have to show for it is anger, resistance. How much longer could you last pushing them away when all they’ve done is help you?

“You worry me,” he speaks again, slowly wrapping your torso with gauze. “That distant look you get. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Confessing that you don’t deserve their kindness is far from what you want. So you let your head rest against his shoulder, exhaling. “Sometimes I wish you were human.” You say simply, promptly regretting the words just as they leave your mouth.

You can feel him tense under your touch, hesitating in his wrapping briefly. “I like who I am now.”

“I know.”

“And if given the chance again, I wouldn’t change it. This is who, what, I want to be."

“I know, you don’t have to explain it to me. I just let lingering thoughts escape, that’s all.”

He sighs, “No no, I didn’t mean to sound angry, you don't need to apologize."

He rips off a piece of medical tape and lining it up with your bandages. “It’s all I’ve known, pretty. I cannot imagine myself being as I was before. I was scrawnier, smaller. More fearful of the world. My life before Hongjoong was not the greatest. My family was killed because I couldn’t protect them, because I was not strong enough to. But now that I can, I can be of assistance to all of you. It’s what I’ve always sought, and I can’t go back to being a human. I can’t be feeble again.” His eyes flick to yours, softening when they meet your eyes. “I love you too much to see you hurt, pretty. If there were something stronger for me to become, I would choose it without a second thought. I hope you won't try to convince me otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t want to, San. Please understand that,” you squeeze his arm. “You’re in control of your life, not me. I can’t force you to abide by my whims. If you want to be like this, I’m not stopping you.”

“Not stopping me – does that mean you won’t accept it anyway?” His words are tight. “You will still leave?”

“If you were a human I’d leave anyway,” you whisper, not daring to meet his eyes. “I never belonged here. If any of us were to become something, I need space. I need a place to go where I can be alone. My room isn’t enough for me.” And run away, you think. You promised Subin you’d kill them, but how could you? Especially with the way he alone is looking at you. Your empathy is endless to the point that you hate it, but it’s not unreasonable to know you can’t hurt people.

A part of you wonders what Rose would do right now. How she’d react to your choices. Is she yelling in her grave right now, telling you that everything you’re doing is bringing you closer to death? Or is she assured that you’re safe in their arms, complimenting you on your choices thus far? There’s so many possibilities, and you’re still not sure what happened back then. All you know is someone in this house turned her into a vampire. And that’s very likely the reason why she wanted to kill them all. You felt her pain, her fear in the brief visions. The cold touch of death when she turned.

You never want to experience it yourself.

“I wish I could convince you otherwise,” he whispers, securing your gauze. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I just hope that you’ll miss us enough to come back home.”

“San-”

“You don’t need to explain why, because I know,” he waves you off, shaking his head. “I mean, I called you Rose for so long without thinking twice about it. Knowing how you felt about it. I didn’t let myself distinguish between the two of you because of my selfishness. I didn’t want to let her go. Accepting that Rose is gone,” he stops in his words. “I don’t think any of us have properly mourned her death. Maybe Yunho or Mingi, but not really. Not truly. The last person to visit her grave was Jongho, and that was decades ago. I’m sorry that I let it go on for so long, and I’m sorry I took your feelings for granted. I think it’ll be hard, but I hope that one day you’ll forgive me, y/n.” He says your name with emphasis, eyes flicking between yours. “Just as I love you.”

"Do you love me?"

His voice cracks at the last word. It's the second time in a day that he's asked. You jokingly replied sure earlier, and he laughed it off. But now, his hands are gripping the bottom of your shirt. Looking up at you from your knees. Eyes flicking between yours, waiting for an answer.

You hear the sentence over and over again in your head. Do you love him? Do you love any of them? Or are you trying to become someone they once knew? Their rose, their sea. The one woman in their life that they lost. It irks you, not knowing if your feelings are true. Or their desperation makes you believe each word that they say. You want to say it, you do. You want him to be assured that you love him, to be secure in his feelings for you. But the word just doesn't want to fall from your lips. So instead of saying it, you hand brushes just beneath his chin. Stroking the soft skin beneath your fingertips.

You lean forward, lips lightly touching his. You hold restraint, but of course, he cannot. He presses his lips against yours, and you kiss him hard. Although his face is swollen with tears and lips are chapped from licking them often, he kisses you.

And you kiss him back.

"Love me," he says between breaths, pulling you down from the edge of the bed. His hands rest beneath your body as you fall to the floor, his body towering over yours, pulling you closer. "Love me," he whispers, fingers digging into your sides as he holds you.

"And what will that do?" You ask, your lips parting from his. Your breaths are heavy, chests rising and falling as you meet his gaze. "What if I say no?"

"I have waited for you for hundreds of years, pretty. I can handle a few more without it. Just please don't tell me to go. I will bear the pain of you not saying it back, but please do not let me go. Remaining unwanted is one thing, but never seeing you again would be the greatest torture I would endure in my endless years."

His words hit you directly in the heart. You hold his face, staring at him. “I cannot promise anything, San. The future is too uncertain for me to say that.”

"Would you say it if I beg?" San moves away from you, slowly sliding down your body. His lips trail along the outline of you before resting at your feet. You lean up, brows furrowed. His hands slowly wrap around your waist, gripping your hips.

"San–"

"Please," His fingers dig into your skin. Not enough to break it, but keeps you where you are. Eyes on him. "I'd do anything for you, y/n. Anything you want."

You rise from the sheets, head throbbing. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream, why would you think otherwise? You swing your legs over the side of the bed, slowly standing. Your side aches as you push open the door. It must be early in the morning, the light seeping through the curtains as you make your way down the hallway. Slow is an overstatement, you’re shuffling. San secured the gauze tight enough for you to sleep comfortably, but moving? Not so much.

The kitchen is empty. The pile of peaches that often greet you is gone, replaced with a sealed box of dried fruits. You ignore it entirely, slowly sinking into the stool at the island. You haven’t had glimpses of the past at all, not even for a brief moment. In the beginning you hated being put into someone else’s body, but now? You wish you could be given something, anything. An assurance that staying here for the moment is a wise idea, or completely terrible.

You lift up your shirt, glancing at the wrapping. It's stained with blood already. Ah, maybe you moved around in your sleep more than you thought.

A cough distracts you.

You turn, tensing.

"Hi–"

"Leave," you interrupt him, glancing at the box in the center of the island. "Please."

"y/n–"

"Please Wooyoung, please just leave me alone," your voice cracks, fear coursing through you. "If you want me on my knees I'll do it. Please," you shut your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Because you know, despite it all, despite everything; One look from him will make you weak.

“What’s going on?” Your eyes flick to the entrance, Yunho glancing between the two of you. His eyes narrow as they meet Wooyoung’s, a frown slowly forming on his lips. “You were told to never be alone with her.”

“I needed to speak to her, that’s all. Nothing nefarious.” Wooyoung sighs, his exhale increasing as he watches Yunho come by your side. Confrontation when you’re this exhausted is not uncommon in this home, though you wish that they leave you alone just as the days prior. A part of you is thankful for Yunho’s presence despite it all; if Wooyoung was so easily able to end his friend’s life hundreds of years ago, ending yours right now would be a piece of cake. “Will you never acknowledge any of us? Or are you only enamored by Yeosang just as you were before? Or have you even attempted to?” Mire coats his word, an unmistakable glare in his eyes once you finally meet them.

You snort, slowly standing from the stool. It’s a bit of a struggle, Yunho leaning forward to help, but you push his hands away, gripping the countertop.

“You all assume that every thought of mine is Yeosang. Like all I’ve cared about since I arrived here is Yeosang when it hasn’t been like that at all. I was afraid of him just as I was of all of you. Your assumptions of my own feelings only seem to ease your own faults. I could have cared for you just as I have for Yeosang, Jongho, Mingi even. But your decision to poison me so that I am forced to be with you was something else entirely. So how can you stand there and tell me that I didn’t try when I did? I was slowly trusting you, Wooyoung. You, alone. And you erased it completely by making me ill. This is your doing, not mine. Never was. So how about accepting your fuck-ups instead of trying to pin it on someone else?”

His fists slowly loosen at your words, angry brows furrowing. How someone as smart as him not able to take your words at face value is beyond your own comprehension. But you’ve laid out your feelings as clearly as you could. It’s up to him to decide if he wants to acknowledge them or not.

“You’re saying that you would have accepted me as I am now?”

“I'm saying that I already have, Wooyoung. You are who you are. Who am I to tell you what you can and cannot be? You're a vampire, that's it. I wouldn’t try to make you a human because I want it. And I hoped that none of you would force me to be a vampire, but look at where we are now."

He takes a step closer to you, only for you to move closer to Yunho. Wooyoung’s eyes shift to him before sighing. “I’d rather we speak in private.”

“Walls are thin, Woo. We’d hear it whether or not I’m here,” Yunho shrugs. “And, frankly, I doubt she wants to be alone with you after everything.”

“You don’t speak for her.”

“He’s right,” you interrupt. “I’d rather someone else in the room.”

“Fine! Fine,” he begins to point at you, before slowly lowering his hand. “Everyone makes me out to be the bad guy. Like it is my fault you died when it’s not even close. I was in the back when it happened! I mean,” he rubs his face, glancing at his friend. “You're letting yourself hide behind a man you don't know, one whose had more involvement than me when it comes to Rose’s turning–”

“Enough, Wooyoung.” Yunho says.

“What? Am I not allowed to tell everyone’s misdeeds? Am I supposed to bear them all on my own? Why am I the lone sinner? Why can I not be the one who she can finally trust? Why do I have to hold your burdens as if they are mine?!” His fingers slowly curl into fists. “It's pushed onto me because you all have designated me as this devil, this monster that cannot be cured. y/n,” his eyes move to you. “I’ll admit my mistakes to you. Yeosang knew about me poisoning you, but it was no fault of his own. I'm not sure if the others have told you this, but the vampire that turns you is able to sire you. He cannot resist my commands if I make it so. He wanted to tell you, but he couldn’t. Because of me. Because of my faults.” He shakes his head, his fingers scratching against his scalp. “I’ll take credit for what I have done. But I will not stand here and pretend everything that has gone wrong around here is all because of my decisions. I'm not going to do it anymore, fuck the rest of you."

“y/n,” Yunho lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “If I may ask, could you please find yourself back to your quar–room, your room. Please. I need to speak with him for a moment.”

You swallow slowly, nodding. You don’t catch the quick flicker of fear in Wooyoung’s eyes at Yunho’s words, keeping your gaze low. There’s so much to process, so many words to accept. Your head begins to throb at the thought of trying to. You step around Yunho, slowly leaving the kitchen. But just before you turn the corner, “Thank you, Wooyoung. For finally admitting it.” Your eyes flick to his. “This doesn't mean I forgive you, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

You leave them be, slowly making your way back to your room without food. You aren’t necessarily hungry right now, it was in all honesty just a stroll from your room. You are still a bit annoyed that it was rudely interrupted, but you digress. Your eyes flick to the quick movement just at the end of the hallway, Yeosang disappearing into his room. You sigh.

It is perhaps not the best time to start something with him, but what do you have to lose? You plan on leaving soon, anyway. You slowly shuffle down the hallway, his door slightly ajar just as you make it around the corner. Taking a long breath, you slowly push it with your free hand, entering his room.

“It’s polite to knock,” he notes. He rests on the seat by his balcony window, leg swinging back and forth. He does not turn to you, though you expected as much. The last time he gazed in your eyes was when you first came back. You haven’t seen him since. His hair seems darker now, blond locks fading into a darker brown.

“You were gone with San for a while,” you start, breathing heavily as you shut the door behind it. It gives you some semblance of privacy, though you’re sure everyone in this house is in tune with your conversation.

“To keep him from losing himself,” he says simply, shrugging. “He would have done the same for me.”

You nod slowly, resting against his velvety couch. Though he doesn’t turn to see you struggle, you can see the scowl on his lips, already predicting his next words.

“You should be resting, not wandering around our home. It makes sense that San had to stitch you up once more. He will have to do it again if you don't sit still.”

“That’s a concern for another day.”

“y/n…”

"Why are you avoiding me?"

He runs his fingers through his hair.

"I could have saved you." He looks small. Arms wrapped around himself, gaze to the floor. Body shaking. "I could have saved you from Wooyoung, from Subin, from Sejun. I could have saved you from them all, but I didn't. I let Wooyoung's words have an influence over me, I," He slowly shakes his head. "You could have died."

His head finally lifts. He looks at the bandage wrapped around your calf, your waist, the bruises on your face. The endless wounds that seem to cover every exposed part of your body. He swallows slowly, lips trembling. "I could have saved you from this."

"None of this is your fault."

"You can't keep saying that. You can't keep pulling the blame away from me. I knew he was poisoning you and did nothing to stop it. You should hate me as much as him, if not more. Don't stand there and pretend you don't–"

“He told me.”

“What?” Yeosang stills, gaze still far away.

“Wooyoung. He told me about what he did to you. How he forced you to abide by his every word, his desires. I didn't even ask for his confession, but he gave it willingly without a second thought. I know he’s doing it only to earn my favor and good graces but him mustering up the will to even explain it to me probably earned him some trust. I doubt that I will be able to forgive him, but I do forgive you, Yeosang.”

He starts to shake his head, fingers digging into his scalp. His grip is harsh to the point that you see red staining the blonde, spilling from underneath his hold. “y/n, you should take every word that comes from him with great caution. And you shouldn’t forgive me for what I’ve done. It is utterly sinful.”

"He sounded sincere."

His lips form a scowl. "And that's your first mistake, y/n. Nothing that comes out of his mouth is close to sincere."

"Yeosang, please listen to me," you take a long breath. "I know that if you had the choice you wouldn’t have hidden the poisoning from me.”

"y/n–"

"Am I wrong for assuming this?"

He shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter because I did hide it. I know you want me to be this pillar of goodness, but I'm not that. I will never be that as long as I am the way I am, y/n. You should never trust any word from me.” His gaze finally meets yours across the darkened room. He looks dreadful, exhausted.

“I want you to love me. I am so lonely, my y/n,” his eyes are filled with fear, sorrow. “These hundreds of years have passed and I am still as lonely as I was when Rose died. I want you to love me as I have loved you. I want you to look at me and see me as I am. To need me as desperately as I need you. I need to feel loved, y/n. But because of my tie to my friend, I cannot,” he swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. “You will never be able to truly be mine because there is always him. There will always be him."

"I thought my dream of being somewhat normal faded long ago, but ever since your soul appeared in front of us again all of those emotions came back tenfold. I want to be human. I want to go to places with you, court you without having the fear of somehow doing something to me that's out of my control. To watch a sunset with you. I want to love you the way you deserve, I want you to be truly mine. But that will never happen. And for the sins that I’ve committed in the past and up to now, perhaps it is warranted. Perhaps I was never meant to have even the slightest bit of happiness when I was turned into this. All of it doesn’t matter in the end, though. Because the past cannot be changed just under sheer eagerness.”

Yeosang tenses up. He attempts to move but Wooyoung tightens his hold. “I cannot live without my best friend, Yeosang. And Rose says she will no longer love you if you were anything other than human. Shall we test that?”

“Wooyoung.” The words escape your own lips, though you know it’s Rose’s. You can feel the fear in her chest, the worry in her voice. Is this the moment Yeosang was turned?

Wooyoung holds his hand against the edge of the dresser, dragging it across harshly. His wrist begins to bleed as he presses it against Yeosang’s mouth, forcing the blood into it. He gags against his hold, desperately trying to get him to stop. Tears roll down his cheeks, eyes flicking to yours. You’ve never seen his eyes filled with such fear, horror. Regret.

"Stop!" You push against someone’s hold, but it's of no use. Wooyoung grips Yeosang's body, forcing his wrist against his mouth. Crazed eyes hold him close, fingers almost piercing Yeosang's shoulder with how elated he is.

“This is all for you, Rose. We will test that will of yours.”

Cries escape your chest as you fall to your knees, unable to do anything. You soon realize it is Mingi who holds you, continuing his whispering of comforting words to help you calm down, but you only feel your heart breaking. Wooyoung lifts your knife you left on your shelf, stabbing it into Yeosang’s chest. The stress in your body overwhelms you, body shaking as you lose consciousness.

“y/n!” He shakes you again and you’re finally pulled from it, glazed eyes clearing. Yeosang holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You aren't sure how much time passed between the vision and now, but he seems nervous as he holds you. “Are you alright? You weren’t here with me-”

“I saw it,” you swallow. You can remember how he once looked, the utter terror in his eyes as Wooyoung held him against his will. Killed him as he grinned at Rose. Yeosang was full of life then, eyes a softer brown, cheeks flushed. Losing his life in mere moments. The sounds only echo in your ears as he holds you, trying to pull you away from those thoughts. His thumb rubs against your cheek, wiping the tear that falls. “I saw you die, Yeosang.”

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t need to let those thoughts worry you. It was so long ago. It no longer affects me.”

“You never asked to be part of this and were forced into it because of him,” You do not say his name, deeming it unnecessary. “How can I pretend I didn’t just see it? No wonder.”

“No wonder what?” he asks softly.

No wonder Rose could not stand any of you any longer. No wonder she killed herself. Seeing the monster that Wooyoung became, it must have broken her. From the other instances he seemed so kind, loving. But in that moment, you could only feel disgust rising in Rose. Hurt.

"No wonder she didn't want to turn," you whisper.

Yeosang sighs. “We all know what happened before when Rose was turned; forcing you into the same position would only lead to another death. I want you to live a long life as do the rest of us, but their definition of life is certainly construed in comparison to mine.” His hand wraps around yours. You’ve noticed that they can easily blend into crowds without lingering looks because they just look pale from a distance, but watching his hand in yours changes your perspective. There is no color in his skin, a dull gray. But still, you lift his hand, pressing your lips against the back of it. His brows lift in silent shock, lips parting. His eyes flick over yours, a small smile slowly forming as he stares at you. “Why would I ask you to lose your warmth when I enjoy the flush of your cheeks?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words, letting your head rest against his chest. “In any other circumstance if a person told me they enjoyed how my blood circulated I’d be a bit creeped out.”

“Very true,” he chuckles along with you, pulling you closer into his chest. “I know my next words will be taken with mirth, but I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive him.”

Which him, he doesn’t say, but you can take a wild guess. You sigh, letting your eyes shut. “Would you be able to forgive so easily in my situation?”

He pauses for a moment, “It took me a few decades to accept him as he is. Forgiveness took a tad bit longer.”

“Define a tad bit.”

“y/n.”

“Yeo.”

He sighs. “… about seventy years.”

“Then I’ll pardon him in forty.”

“y/n,” he repeats again, his voice softer. You frown as you meet his gaze, ignoring the pout of his lips, the lax resting of his eyes- Damnit, could you at least pretend to be resilient against his charm?

“Yeosang, I am not going to forgive someone who almost murdered me. In fact, if I ever decided to become a vampire – which I won’t – “ you notice his eyes lighting up at your words. “I would ignore his very existence for the next five hundred years.”

He purses his lips, thinking. “That’s not too bad.”

“Kang Yeosang!”

He laughs, holding you close to him as you playfully shove against his frame. It’s a losing battle, finally slumping into his arms, ignoring the pain on your side from the awkward position. Yeosang seems to notice though, shifting his hold as he lies back on his bed.

"I won't force you to be something you don't want, y/n. Though my words do not hold as much trust as others, I promise I won't."

None of this is Wooyoung's work. His hands pull you closer to his body, soothened at the warmth of you surrounding him. How could he hate himself for lying to you when he gets this in return? He will feel terrible later, yes. He will hate himself right as you leave his side. But for now he enjoys it. Hums as he tucks his face into the curve of your neck, overjoyed when he hears comforting sounds escaping you. No, if he needed to lie again, he would do it. Just to feel you again.

Consequences be damned.

You nod, closing your eyes. "I know. Did you hear that conversation in the kitchen?"

"Walls are only a figurative barrier in this home."

"That's a yes, then."

"I try not to snoop, but I heard you say my name. It was hard not to pay attention to every word that left your lips. I tried leaving before you caught me, but I was a bit stunned. I didn't know how much you cared for me, y/n. I do not mind being your favorite, though." He chuckles, lips pressed into your hair.

"You're not my favorite," you whine, but his laughs only continue. "Yeosang!"

Yeosang’s words still linger in your head. Forgiving Wooyoung. Would you ever be able to do it? Whenever he sends you smiles, the memory of him killing Yeosang flashes in your head. It’s been hundreds of years, sure, but from what you know that hasn’t exactly changed him. You can’t even look at fruit the same, the boxes on the counter only piling because you’re scared of touching it. In fact, you only allow a few of them to follow you to the market to get food. With great reluctance, of course. Your place is still to leave.

Though you insisted that you'd never stay longer than another week, it's very much past that. Each time you arrive at an interview with expectations you'll be hired, you're rejected. Your friends still ignore your calls. It’s just as Subin and Sejun said - you have no one. All you have is these eight men who don’t truly love you, and who you suspect all want you to themselves one way or another.

“The food in the fridge is expired,” Seonghwa hums, placing a bundle of bananas into the cart. Yunho lingers next to him, hands tucked in his pocket as the three of you walk through the produce. “You’re the only one who eats, it’s not good to let it go to waste.”

“I told you,” you examine the cabbage. “I’m not touching anything any of you buy.”

“You let Seonghwa grab those bananas,” Yunho points out, quickly averting his eyes when you look at him. “Just saying!”

“Well I can tell he didn’t inject it with something strange, so I trust those for now. As long as they stay in my room.”

“Wooyoung isn’t allowed in the kitchen anymore. It’s safe, doe,” Seonghwa notes, following you to the register. “Hongjoong made sure of it.”

“Ah yes, the most trustworthy man in that house,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “No thanks. I’ll let my room turn into a grocery store before I put anything in that kitchen. And,” you look back at the both of them. “I found a place.”

Seonghwa stiffens, Yunho’s smile shifting. It’s strange how you never noticed before - the shifts in their expressions. If you blinked you wouldn’t have noticed Yunho’s smile lessen into more of a scowl, Seonghwa’s body stilling. The more you look at them the more they feel… scary. You’ve experienced this same feeling before, when you first met them. In all honesty you thought you were over it. That you were fine with them being vampires. But in these moments you can see why the stories considered them terrifying. They can so easily become non-human. Unreal. You look away, not wanting to linger on these feelings.

“Seonghwa, actually,” you start, still keeping your eyes forward. “Would you be able to drop off my food in my room? I need to take a trip somewhere.”

He moves in front of your cart, hands gripping the front to stop you in your tracks. His head tilts, brows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not leaving, not yet,” you sigh. “And I have all of my things still at the house. Too many important things to just abandon on a whim.”

“y/n-”

“If you want me to trust you,” you glare back at Yunho. “Then let me go for an afternoon. I’ll be back before you know it.”

They both exchange a look. Seonghwa finally lets go of the cart, walking around and nudging you off the handles. You let him take your place, glancing between the two.

“When you get home,” his eyes flick to Yunho. “Tell Hongjoong that we lost you in a crowd. And take this,” he hands you a small bottle. The words are in a foreign language, nothing you can decipher. “Spray this on you several blocks away from our home. In fact, do it when you’re at wherever you’re going. It blocks our senses of your smell. Actually,” Seonghwa takes it from your grasp, spraying it on your neck. “Tell him you found it in your room on the shelf if he finds you with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Yunho rubs his face, glancing at you. “He will kill us, truly.”

“He won’t when he sees her safe and sound when she comes home later. Right, doe?”

You nod quickly. It’s true, you don’t plan on running away now. Not until you find the truth. The real truth. He sends you a strained smile. “Good. Please get home by eight at night. Yunho and I will be running in just five minutes before telling them that we cannot find you. It will be… overwhelming for that moment, but it’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He leans forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Then we agree. I will see you soon, my doe.” He grips Yunho’s arm, pulling him along to the register.

The door is open before you enter. She never left it open, always afraid that something would happen while she was gone. And it’s warranted - the city isn’t as safe as it used to be. You slowly enter, a strong smell hitting you as you stand in the doorway. Like chemicals were spilled everywhere, the bleach stinging your nose. You take out your mask and put it on, slowly entering the living area. All of her things are in their places, though thrown about just like it usually is. It is almost eerie how perfectly placed they are - even her favorite magazine, open on a page that she would love to look over.

“Siyoon?” You say, picking up the book. A layer of dust covers it, your hands beginning to shake. She used to complain about the mess of your apartment. She’s the last person that would ever let it get this bad in her own home. You’re sure that she cleans everyday. You grip your phone, dialing her number again. It goes to voicemail just like before. “This isn’t funny, Siyoon,” you say, opening her room door.

Her clothing is thrown all over, as if she were in a rush to leave. Drawers thrown open, old makeup cracked on the floor. Spilled and dry, staining the hardwood. Was she afraid of something? Why would she leave so quickly? Your eyes flick to her phone on the dresser. You quickly pick it up, pressing the power button. A zero flashes at you before turning off again. You take it, tucking it in your pocket. Though this isn’t exactly what you pictured, you just hope that she’s okay. Whatever spooked her though, especially leaving without all of her things - what the hell happened?

And why can’t you get rid of the feeling that deep down, you know who was responsible?

“You let her out of your sight? What the fuck were you thinking?”

Hongjoong’s voice rings through the home as you step inside, shutting the door behind you. Just as the click echoes, everyone is at the entrance way. You furrow your brows as you meet their frightened eyes, sighing. “Don’t overreact-”

“Why would you disappear like that? We thought-” Jongho trails off, swallowing.

“I’m a fucking grown woman, I can do what I want,” you step around their bodies, glancing at Yunho and Seonghwa briefly. Their gazes are blank, though Seonghwa’s brighter, eyes softening when they rest on yours. You send him a quick smile as well, “Seonghwa? Were you able to finish shopping?”

“I left them in your room, my doe.”

“...Can you help me put them away, then?”

He nods quickly, stepping around everyone else. You can see the venom in their eyes as you ignore everyone else, your hand slowly sliding into Seonghwa’s, leading him down the hallway. Siyoon’s phone feels heavy in your pocket as you do so. You hope that whatever you find leads you to what happened. And despite all the arrows pointing to who obviously made her run away - you wish it wasn't them.

Seonghwa quietly helps you place your things in your makeshift cupboard and drawers, humming as he does so. You place your phone on your dresser along with Siyoon's delicately in your side table when he turns his back.

"I'm glad you're safe. And I'm happy you came back," He doesn't elaborate on his words. "I really am, doe. And I know you don't truly trust any of us really, but thank you for trusting me enough to safely bring your food home."

You nod, looking at him through your mirror. He leans against the opposing wall, staring at you. Your eyes meet in the mirror. Though you really had no time to dwell on it, they're all handsome. You're not ugly, far from it in your mind, but their beauty is intimidating. Having their attention on you had somehow lessened your confidence – though before them you already had plenty – being the driving object of their affections is frightening. You wonder if they look at you and see you, or see Rose. And if she is the temptress they say she was, and identical to you, well that's just another can of worms to dig through.

"We haven't known each other for long, but I can tell when you're overthinking. That distant look in your eyes. Whatever it is, you can say it. I'll answer it confidently."

"It's not a question, just an observation," you shrug, sitting on the edge of your bed. Seonghwa sits next to you, planting himself at the small chair just a meter or so away from you. "No need to look so serious, Hwa," you roll your eyes.

"The look told me otherwise."

"Rose was beautiful," you start, and he nods, though he looks confused.

"As are you."

"What I mean," you struggle with your words. Why is it so hard to speak? Each time one of them is in front of you it's like your words are restrained, harder to describe. "I'm not half as confident as she was. Not anymore. She and I are not the same people. I just don't understand how you could care for me half as much as her–"

"Doe," he shakes his head. "I belong to you."

"I don't want you to. You’re your own person, Seonghwa. How could you not understand that?"

"You must misunderstand my words," he shifts the chair closer to you. "I belong to you, y/n. It is my choice to say these words. Your soul is what I love. I want you to accept me as yours, because in my mind I am already. And I deeply desire for you to be mine even though I know it will never be," his lips tremble as he looks at you. "I hope that our days will no longer be filled with turmoil. It feels as if we haven't had a day of calamity for such a long time."

"Who's fault is that?" It's rhetorical, but he answers it anyway.

"Ours. It is our fault. It is mine as much as it is the other's."

You close your eyes and take a long breath. How could you be brave when he expresses himself with such raw emotion? Your heart oftentimes wavers in his presence. There's no real explanation; whether it be emotions unbeknownst to you from the past, or what you feel now. He just brings out a soft spot within you that you forget. And you hate it. You hate that your own self betrays you, makes you look past everything that has happened. His blatant begging for you should disgust you when you know of their obsession. You know that one of them killed Rose. And you know that none of them did anything to stop it. So why can you only look at him with… love?

"You don't belong to me," you repeat softly, less sure of your words. "I don't want you to belong to me."

"Anything you want–"

"Stop saying that," you look at him, holding back your tears as you meet his watery one's. "Don't look at me like that, Hwa. Don't do that to me."

"y/n–"

"I can't talk to you when you look at me like that," you admit, covering your face. "Fucking Hell, I can't do this anymore."

His cool touch brushes against your skin, slowly pulling your hands away. He presses his lips against the back of them, eyes fluttering. "Don't hide yourself from me."

"I…" You trail off, watching as he presses his lips against your wrist, kissing each fingertip. Your breath hitches as his teeth grazes against the skin of your thumb. "Seonghwa–"

"I love you, y/n," he whispers softly, holding your hands against his face. The red darkened, heavy as he takes in your face. "I won't ever stop."

He moves closer to you, thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. You're not too sure who leans first, but you feel the shudder of his breath against yours. His hands holding your head steady, tongues dragging across one another's, filling the silence. Your heart beats against your eardrums, hands gripping your pants as he holds you close.

"Wait," he pulls away, licking his lips. "I don't want you to think of me as a horrible man. I'm not trying to push your emotions to the side because I can't help myself."

You nod, grip loosening against your pants, "It was too much."

He laughs, shaking his head, "Too much? My pretty doe, it's never enough when it comes to you. But I don't want to rush things. I want the both of us to care for each other fully. Despite the urges," he closes his eyes briefly. "I am still a gentleman."

"You and Rose? Did you ever…?"

His lip curves into a small smile, shaking his head, "Despite my endless yearning and waiting, the only place I ever expressed my love for her was her lips. She told me that my love for her was too great, that it would be devastating if we did anything more. Not to her, but to me."

"Did you believe her?"

He nods slowly, "Rose was the only love of my long life, but I was not hers. And I didn't mind it, no, but she knew my feelings. She knew that I would break if she told me how she truly felt about me. I was thankful that she pushed me away at the time. As I am thankful that I was able to do it now," he admits, eyes roaming over yours. "You don't love me the way I love you. It would be a mistake to let it go further."

You rub your face. He's right, just as he always is. You let the moment get the best of you. Seonghwa has often been your weak point just as Yeosang. "Then can you stay?"

"Stay?"

"Tonight with me? I don't know, I…" Siyoon's apartment is still lingering in the back of your mind. If he's here, maybe you'll be able to ignore it. Ignore the phone in your drawer, the mystery hidden behind the darkened screen. "I need someone to stay tonight."

He doesn't question further, does not investigate. Instead he presses his lips to your forehead and leaves to shower. Soon enough he's back in the room, sliding beneath the sheets with you. Pulling you close against his chest, lips resting against the curve of your neck.

You can't quite remember how much time passed. All you can do is stare at yourself.

Broken.

You touch the bruise on your lips, the darkened skin beneath your eyes, discoloration on your skin. Watch as his hand slowly drags along your skin, wrapping around the curve of your shoulder, lips pressed against the space behind your ear. His low hums, lids opening to meet your gaze in the mirror. The deep scarlet of his irises, slow smirk of his lips as he breaths against you. You look utterly ruined, tiredness dripping from the reflection. And yet here he is. Staring at you with adoration, desire, care. He stares at the broken figure of you and loves it. Your tongue drags across your lips, blinks quick.

"You can look at that reflection and still love her?" You whisper. He moves his lips from your skin, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His head leans into yours, cheek creasing as he nods.

"How could I not?"

"I don't look like myself," You look dead. The light in your eyes is barely there anymore. Perhaps this is what they've wanted. The scars and cuts on your body aren't exactly his fault, though you've never looked like this before meeting all of them. "I look like I've been run over by a truck."

"You were stabbed y/n, I think giving yourself a bit of leeway would do wonders."

Though he isn't wrong in the slightest, keeping your gaze on the reflection only seems to darken your thoughts. You watch as his hand rests opposite from where his head is, thumb tracing your beauty marks. He keeps his eyes on yours, softening when he sees how moist your eyes are. Without another word, his hand turns your head to him. You look away from the mirror reluctantly, meeting his gaze.

"Do you believe these eyes of mine are lying?" He's never looked more sure than he does now. "Doe, so much has happened to you. The one man you could count on isn't here. We all know that."

You've never said how much you care for Yeosang, but it seems to be more obvious than you realized. Your feelings for Jongho were pretty equal with your feelings for Yeosang, but this dread each time you look at him just won't go away. Yeosang never had a choice, but Jongho did. All of them did.

"You love him more than the rest of us." It's not a question. And surprisingly he doesn't look angry as he says it. "It's hard."

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Love is never something to apologize for."

“I don’t know why I do,” you start. “I’m not one to believe in past lives influencing current ones but there’s always been a tie to him. He is one of the reasons why it’s so hard to not stay,” you admit, ignoring Seonghwa’s burning gaze in the mirror. “When he left it felt like I needed to go too. But now that he’s back, it just feels-”

“Like you can’t leave?” He asks, and you slowly nod. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else, his fingers slowly folding into yours. You let him guide you back into the bed. Though that was the end of the conversation, your thoughts still consume you.

There is this constant thought that everything you say will be used against you. Hongjoong does it often, his sneer and quick glances, taking in your words to remind you of them later. Yunho does it as well, though a bit more secretive. You can’t quite figure out the others. None of this changes your stance though. You’ve told them you were leaving. Yeosang be damned. You’re not going home, the reminder from Sejun that your family wouldn’t be safe. But it’s scary to think that once you leave, you have nowhere to go. Visiting old friends is not what you’d like to do either – they will be the ones hurt in the end. All in all, it seems that in all, it seems that you only have them. Just them.

The thought makes you queasy.

Seonghwa seems to feel the shift of your emotions, the arm wrapped around your torso tightening, pulling you closer. You shiver at his cool arm resting against your stomach, lids heavy. If only you knew what was coming tomorrow, you would have left that night.

If only you knew of the terrors of the coming days.

Mingi is the one to break the news.

You’re sitting on the grass in the backyard, notebook in hand as you brainstorm where exactly you’re going after leaving. Yunho’s the first to step outside, a strained smile on his lips as he nods, immediately giving you his back as he starts up his bike. Soon after, one or two of them trickle outside to seemingly random spots. Hongjoong rests against the opening to the outside door, hands against his chest. You aren’t keen on the idea of all of them surrounding you in some way, gripping your notebook tightly as you glance between them. Mingi is the first to move from his spot (he’s been sitting on the lower roof lately), landing on the ground and slowly walking over to you.

“Who died?” You ask just as he begins to speak. His eyes flick to Hongjoong, before landing on yours. “Ah, are we playing another guessing game?”

“Well…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeosang’s gone.”

You roll your eyes, attention back on your notebook. “I never said I wanted to participate in them.”

“No, doe,” Seonghwa appears on the side of you, a small smile on his lips. Since that night the two of you have grown closer. Most of your time is spent by yourself, and the remainder, he usually seeks you out. You don’t mind it, he’s quiet most of the time, enjoying the silence along with you. This expression on his face, though. Worry is never a good look. “Yeosang left. He won’t be coming back.”

Your brows furrow, looking to Hongjoong. “What did you do?”

He only sighs, shaking his head. “You love to blame me for others, don’t you?”

“Who else is there to blame? Yeosang wouldn’t leave on his own accord, not like that. Not without-” You.

You swallow. “He wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t, and yet he did. Pitiful,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head. “I was quite enjoying his presence around here. Made everyone else tolerable.”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. “Not the best time for jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

You stand up from your spot, ignoring Seonghwa’s lingering touch on your shoulder as you move closer to Hongjoong. You haven’t spoken to him since the incident, and in fact you’d rather not speak to him at all, but Yeosang left. And there’s only two people who would make him do it. Hongjoong, the prideful captain himself, or …

“Wooyoung made him go?” You ask.

Hongjoong says nothing. You turn around, noticing that conveniently, said man is nowhere to be found. A warm hand touches yours and you immediately step away from him, seething.

“Come with me to dinner and I’ll show you.”

You scoff, “No.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Then I suppose you’ll never know where your dear Yeosang went off to. And thus, I plead for you not to come to me and complain and whine, but I’m sure you will. It’s what you do best.” He shrugs, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“Does no one else know?”

“Unfortunately, I’m the only one. It’s a captain’s duty to know where his crew is at all times, my sea.”

“You’re insufferable,” you rub your face, thinking. He waits patiently for a response. There isn’t any point in pretending; you’ll have to go to this dinner with him whether you like it or not. “If I go, you’ll tell me? No tricks, Hongjoong?”

“None at all, beautiful,” his grin only widens. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You balance the chopsticks between your fingers, blatantly ignoring the stare down from the man in front of you. You only agreed to this to learn of Yeosang’s whereabouts, and perhaps – ignoring all of the red flags, hoping to see him. Taking Hongjoong’s invitation to a private dinner is the last thing that you ever wanted but here you are. Dining across from a mad man.

You reach for the garlic bread, Hongjoong pushing the basket closer to you.

"You could have just told me where he is and leave out all of this," you say, thanking the waiter as he places the plate in front of you. It's pasta all'amatriciana; Hongjoong insisted that you'd enjoy it. He had nothing for himself of course, tending to a bit of red wine.

He takes a sip, lips resting on the edge of the glass. He uses his free hand to gesture to the food. You would scowl but it's best not to get on his bad side for now. You take a bite, holding in your shock. It's probably the best pasta you've ever had.

"You needn't hide it, my sea, I can see it in your eyes. Good, right?" His tongue drags along the glass. You look away.

"So Yeosang?"

"He's gone. He won't be back anytime soon. Sorry to disappoint."

"Was it his choice?" Your voice is low. The last thing you expected was for him to leave you alone with them. Especially with your last conversation. Yeosang didn't give you any signs of wanting to go. "Or did someone decide for him?"

“It will get cold if you continue to stare so feverously,” his eyes flick to the plate in front of you. “What will you do, stab me with a fork?”

“It’s useless because iron doesn’t hurt you,” you sigh, taking another bite. The restaurant is filled with patrons, all couples from ranges of ages dining. Places like this have never been your cup of tea. Most guests appear pretentious, noses held high, words not used in everyday language falling from their lips. Harsh words to the waiters just doing their jobs. Many moaning and groaning at how delicious a salad with a sprinkle of salt tastes. Hongjoong bringing you here only solidifies that he doesn’t really know you. You’d never enjoy a place like this in your life.

“Your face is an open book,” he grins, taking another sip. “I’ve brought you here for a reason.”

“You’re ignoring my questions, so I don’t really care-“

“Oh, but I think you will once I explain it to you."

You sigh, "Hard to believe. Pretty sure you just dragged me out here for yourself."

"You lack trust," he shrugs. "Why would I bring the one I love to a place without meaning behind it?"

You take another bite. "Nothing has changed over the hundreds of years that have passed. All reincarnations of me, you either risked your livelihood or killed theirs along the way. You will so easily die for love. Does that not terrify you? Willing to give up yourself for a fickle love?" You meet his eyes. "Hongjoong, how do you think this will end? Have you truly deluded yourself into thinking we will be together? That I will fall at your feet, and finally look at you with care?"

He pauses for a moment.

"Loving you less is not possible, my sea. Our souls meeting over and over again like this is no coincidence. I never sought you out, you always came to me. We did not find each other by accident."

"That I agree with," you choose your next words carefully. "But have you ever considered that my soul sought out yours for healing? Because from what you've said and what I know, my soul has only suffered in your presence. If you truly cherished me you would let me go."

His lip quirks.

"Is it so hard to love me? Is it so impossible that you will not even consider the thought? Attempt at merely liking me? Is it so difficult for even a brief moment to look at me and think that there is a part of me that you adore, that you see as worthy of your attention? Can you possibly gaze upon me and see that my love for you is never ending, everlasting. I know that you will never love me as desperately as I do you, but can you not try?" Though you can only see the white of his eyes, his words oddly resonate within you. If it were another life, if you met him under different circumstances, there would have been a chance. A moment where you could look at him and think, well, he could be someone you love. Even now, you care for him in a sick and unreasonable way. But is it love? No.

Hongjoong is not a person you can ever love.

"If you wanted me to love you, you would have let me go long ago, Hongjoong," you say simply, sinking deeper into the seat. Oddly relaxing despite the circumstances. "Perhaps then I would have."

His mind wanders for a moment as he takes in your words. He desperately wanted to be wanted, to have him be the only though in the forefront of your mind, to have only him as the one you desired, you loved. Hongjoong’s plan was not for you to spend time with all of them, no. He wanted you so entrapped in his lure that you would not care if the others were there or not. He wanted you so deluded, that you would not even notice that they were gone in the first place. He does not quite know how much longer he can last, knowing you're just out of his grasp.

That is why he brought you here.

"You desperately want to know where your Yeosang has gone. You see,” He adjusts himself in his seat, eyes flicking over the tables surrounding the two of you. “All of these people in this room were invited personally. You’re surrounded by presidents of the largest companies; CFOs, CEOs, CMOs… all of the horrendously affluent figureheads in our country. They’ve all partaken in some sort of black-market scheme, or invested in a medication that is more lethal than a snake’s venom. They believe this dinner was a congratulations on selling one million doses of death across the globe. It is anything but,” his eyes move to yours. “Yeosang is here to kill them all.”

You tense, eyes widening. “What?“ He places his hand on yours, nudging his head in a different direction. You turn around to follow where he points.

Yeosang holds a glass in his hands, the silhouette of his suit blending into the decorative curtains just behind him. His eyes seem distant, jaw tight. The red seems to be burning each time someone passes him by, the grip on his cup only tightening. He wears a suit like everyone else in the crowd, blending in with ease. If Hongjoong didn't point him out you're sure you wouldn't have noticed him in the room at all.

“He has always been this martyr in your eyes. This pillar of good. Sure, this is a great deed to mankind; killing every single human in this room will save millions. But do they not deserve trials? There are guests here that are just innocents, accompanied by the true sinners. Of course, he doesn’t care for that, because he'd rather a few guiltless people’s lives be lost than seeing these other dejected souls plant their seeds of hatred and greed another day.”

You try to stand but Hongjoong is quicker, stepping behind you before you can blink, forcing your body back into the seat. He rests his head on your shoulder, lips just a brush away from your ears. He presses his hand against your mouth. “When he loses himself in his own thoughts he becomes this way. Detached. Uncaring of human life once he set a goal in his mind. He locked the doors already, y/n. He will start from the back since it gives the people closest to the front less warning of what's happening. Let us watch the one you love do his self assigned duty.”

It happens too fast for your eyes to watch. He starts from the far end of the restaurant as Hongjoong said. You aren’t sure how he’s doing it, until you see each person grip their necks, choking. He’s quick, moving from table to table, never lingering. The music is too loud in the room for people to take notice, laughing and enjoying their time as people die around them. Blood spills across tables, splattering on the white tablecloths.

“It’s a massacre,” you whisper, too shocked to look away. You wonder if he’s even noticed the two of you.

“It’s a revelation,” Hongjoong grins, laughing as the heads hit the silverware. Slowly people begin to notice, murmurs amongst the crowd as he continues his path. Your gaze moves to the table he's coming upon. There sits a small family, a child laughing with their parents as they eat. He seems unfazed by the patrons, expression mute as he makes his way. Hongjoong’s hand falls from your lips, giving you an opportunity to speak.

“Yeosang!”

He stills in his movements, head immediately moving to where you sit. The emotionless expression shifts to horror, gaze flicking over yours, as if you aren’t truly there. So it is as you suspected - he never knew you were in the room. Would he have even cared if he did?

“I’ll let you have a moment with him. Unfortunately, I have to finish the job. No witnesses,” he shrugs, leaving you alone at the table as you stare at Yeosang across the room. He drops the knife from his hand, steps hurried. You stand up from your spot, body shaking as he moves closer.

Yeosang is just like the others. It was foolish to think otherwise. Rose was right in her words – they are monsters, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. Even Yeosang, the sweet man who wooed you beyond simple words, is just like the rest of them. You try to back away but he uses his speed against you. Hands wrapping around your arms as he stares at you. You look down, the blood staining his fingers rubbing off on your shirt. Surrounded by it often should have numbed your senses. But it is as it was before, your stomach turning. He holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he meets yours. You flinch at his thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"You weren't supposed to see me like this, pretty," he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips. He traces the outline, humming softly. "You were supposed to be home."

If it's fear holding you back from speaking you don't dwell on it. His head tilts, sucking in a breath. "Say something to me. Tell me."

You were never able to resist his charm, even now. Your hands rise, covering his. He shivers at how hot yours are, even as you pull them off your face. You take a step back, the screams rising in volume. People around you are desperate to escape; Cries of children. the sounds of gargling, choking, Hongjoong swiftly killing each and every person. You hold your hands over your ears, crouching into a ball as the sounds just seem to grow louder and louder. The cool touch of his makes you tense and he immediately pulls away.

"I…" You stop in your own words, glass breaking. Sobs continue to drake your body. They're killers. They kill. It's so foolish of you to think otherwise.

He crouched down next to you, "Rose–"

He stills.

"I was a fool," you whisper, swallowing slowly. "I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"No. No. It was a slip of the tongue, y/n. I swear it. I know you, I know there's a difference."

“How about you go back home, Yeosang? We have important things to discuss.”

You don’t dare look Yeosang in the eyes again, afraid that what you might see will only hurt you more. You’re not too sure when he left, but the room has suddenly become quiet. You look up.

Hongjoong’s tongue drags across his skin. An almost giddy, joyful expression crosses his gaze– absolutism, resolved, accomplished. How someone can hold pure glee inside of them as they lick off the blood of the person they killed is beyond you. His burning gaze reaches yours. Hungry. Satisfied. The gaze of a man who knows he has won. He drops the last body from his hands, the thump echoing in your ears through the ringing. He steps over the other bodies, kicking some of them on his slow stroll to you.

You crumble. There is no use for it, that you know. You could run to the ends of the Earth and he will find you with ease. No matter what words you say to reject him he merely takes it as motivation to continue, another obstacle to overcome. You could spend your last breath telling him how much you hate him and he will only guffaw. The question you have is silly, obscene even. But you must know. You must know to determine what your next steps will be.

"Will you ever let me go?"

He stops less than a foot away from you, smiling. It's a horrid expression to look back at, lips curled back, eyes widened to the point of being disturbing to gaze upon. He tilts his head the same way he always does, fingers curled around the wooden handle. The irises of his eyes slowly glaze over, red replaced with an iridescent white. He crouches down, lifting your chin with the blunt end of his knife.

"There is not a place you will go where I will not find you, my sea. If there were a chance you'd attempt to get away, I will only appear by your side again and again and again," he pressed his cheek against yours, a low hum. "Why would you want to leave me? You can have anything you desire when you stay."

When. Not if.

"And if I am to die?"

"Oh no," he moves away from you, bottom lip poking out, hand cupping your face. His knife is steady as he rubs his thumb against your cheek. "Your soul is mine. If you die, I will only find you again. Why do through the torture of us doing this all over, when you can just accept it as it is?"

"You've waited hundreds–"

He sighs loudly, "And I will wait more. I will not die. And as long as I am here, you will be. That is just how the fates decide."

He hooks his arm beneath yours, lifting you with ease. "Now let us go home. The others are waiting for you."

His warm lips press against your forehead. Your eyes are wide open as he pushes the bodies to the slide. The blood staining his clothing soaks into yours. He doesn't seem to care though, humming that eerily familiar tune again. It is the opposite of comforting. But you let your body relax in his arms.

You let him take you back home.

---

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

#fic: clair de lune #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez yandere

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

Text

The More You Give ❧ (Part IV)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, once again Eddie flirts with bullies, sex shaming, discussions of anxiety, dom!eddie increasingly present, fingers in mouths and other places, oral (f and m receiving), first time blow job, cum eating (a theme of this story now as much as shyness, apparently). New named characters, hopefully it’s clear who’s important and who’s not.

Word count | ~11,700

A/N | I’m late! It’s late. Thank you for the patience and the very encouraging messages. It’s wonderful to hear that people are enjoying this fic.

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Previous Chapter

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Your fingers twist and pull at your scrunchie, turning the stretchy patterned cotton around your wrist. You think about May’s face; one you know better than anyone else’s. Long eyelashes, pink smile; friendly and warm. You can keep her that way if you just say everything right.

Eddie is kind to me, you imagine yourself explaining. I like him and I want you to give him a chance.

You hum as you cross the street, not entirely happy with how that sounds.

Eddie is kind to me. That works. I think it would be really nice if you’d speak to him, so you could see how wonderful he is.

You chew your lip. You are getting ahead of yourself. Even if, by some miracle, you can explain properly, even if May accepts that Eddie is important to you now, she still won’t ever want to be seen with him. May likes being popular, and people hate Eddie Munson.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the Eddie who made you a mixtape after one date, Eddie who doesn’t mind speaking when you can’t, Eddie who holds your hand and kisses you sweet. It doesn't matter because he is Eddie Munson. The way he dresses, the music he listens to, where he lives, the game he plays, how he makes money, who his parents were. He’s like a ticked list of everything people don’t want to understand.

To think, now, that you ever let yourself believe he was anything other than lovely makes you ache with regret. You think of that word you found in a Welsh poem; hiraeth, like nostalgia, like homesickness. A sinking feeling, the realisation that you should have followed through every time you thought that people might be wrong about him.

You saw him hold doors open, take Jeff under his wing, play his guitar exactly the way he likes even in the face of relentless mocking. You knew. Knew he was funny, knew he was interesting, knew he was kind. Knew that, somehow, life would be better if you just spoke to him.

What would you be like, now, if you had?

For a second, you’re sure you must be thinking about him too hard, because you can hear the howl of the music that plays loud from his van. But there he is, pulling up at the corner, looking both ways until he spots you and waves wildly like you might not recognise him otherwise. The tyres of Eddie’s van screech as he makes the turn, again when he halts next to you on the sidewalk. “Thought I’d lost you,” Eddie laughs, leaning over to open the passenger door for you. “Hop in, sweetheart.”

Eddie waits for you to climb up into his van to press a chaste hello kiss to your lips, so casual and domestic it makes that longing to have had him earlier worse. He watches you buckle your seat belt and get yourself comfy with an excited grin, clearly waiting until he has your full concentration to say what he desperately wants to say.

Eddie peels off from the sidewalk the second you are settled and looking at him expectantly.

"Guess who met your Dad this morning!”

You blink. “You went to my house?”

“Of course,” he says matter of factly, peeling away from the sidewalk. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m gonna be driving you to school from now on.” You almost fight the smile, but let it show when Eddie continues. “At first he thought I was there to mow the lawn? Had me all the way to the garage before I realised. My guess was he wanted an expert opinion on the quality of the grass.” Eddie grins conspiratorially, laughing at his own joke. “But I explained that I was there to pick up his beautiful daughter. Thought he was going to attack me with the weed whacker.”

You shake your head, giggling at the image of your cardigan clad, slipper wearing father wielding such a weapon against Eddie. You look him over, giving yourself a moment to gaze at his handsome profile. “But you’re miraculously unharmed.”

“Oh yeah, it was no problem. Just turned on the signature Munson charm, you know?” He gives you a dimpled smile. “Then he told me you’d left early to catch the bus so I had to abandon my new best friend and speed on over to find you.”

You like him especially like this. The way he weaves fantasy with the truth so easily, refusing to let reality get in the way of a good tale. He’s a better storyteller than anyone you’ve ever met, so much so that you don’t know exactly how much of this account is real. You won’t know unless you ask your Dad.

You probably won’t. Eddie’s version is better.

You watch his adorned hands while he drives, steady on the steering wheel. Your gaze drifts up his lithe arms to his face, bathed in Summer light. His dark hair is shades lighter like this, flyaways made golden by the sun. “Eddie?” He hums a questioning tone, eyes on the road while yours are fixed on him. “Are you really going to drive me every day?”

“Well, yeah. I thought I would.”

“You won’t…miss a day?” You’re not trying to dissuade him, but one thing you have known about Eddie for years is that he is prone to arrive late, if he makes it to school at all.

“Princess, if there comes a morning that I am not ready and waiting for you with this, your carriage, know that I will have been slain by dragons.”

You are so desperately fond of him. “Really?”

“Nothing but talons and fiery breath will keep me from your door. I promise.”

The van slows to a stop, but you’re too occupied by him to question it. Eddie looks serious, even as he makes such a whimsical promise, and you know he wants you to believe him. Heart fluttering, you lean over to kiss his soft cheek, leaving a little spot of pink gloss on his skin that you wipe away with your thumb.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You grab his hand and bring your clasped fingers to rest on your knee, cherishing the warmth of him, the weight and feel of him. You sigh, chest sore at the loss of all the times you should have held this hand before. Your fingers find the smallest of his rings, this one is less chunky than those on his left hand. The stone at the centre is dark, flecked with grey. Eddie lets you twist it smoothly, run the pad of your first finger along the textured metal. When you look up from his hand, Eddie is already watching you. You give him what must be a sad smile. "I wish-"

“I think I speak for all of us-” You jump at the voice along with the door at the back of his van opening. Feeling caught in an intimate moment, you fight the urge to drop Eddie’s hand, instead squeezing it tight to get out the sudden nerves. Into the van climbs three boys. Eddie’s friends; including Jeff, who waves at you while the youngest, dressed in a sleeveless flannel, establishes his disbelief at your presence. “-when I say I did not think for one second you were serious about getting a girlfriend.”

Your face heats, the word fluttering around your brain like a swallow diving and gliding in Spring; girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.

You don't chance a look at Eddie, even though you see him glance at you in your periphery. You can't, not when the desperation would read so clearly on your face the second you get a real glimpse of him.

You watch the three boys shuffle and sit together along the bench seat in the back. Arms and legs squish together, and soon elbows appear to try and gain ground. Protesting grunts and curses sound even as Eddie starts the van.

When Jeff widens his legs in the middle, forcing one boy almost off the end and another to slam into the door at his side, a final frustrated groan sounds. “You know, Monday's are supposed to be my day riding shotgun."

“If you’ve got a problem, Gareth, I'm sure your Mommy would let you ride in the front every day of the week.”

“I-” You rub the gem of Eddie’s ring with your thumb in a circle. “I’m sorry I took your seat.”

Gareth’s eyes seem to light up as if he’s spied an opportunity. “Well, you didn’t exactly take my seat. It was given away before he even picked you up,”

“Gareth-” Eddie starts, a warning sound.

“If you think for one second,” Gareth says, voice matching Eddie’s unique tone almost to a point. “That a woman like that is sitting anywhere but by my side you’ve lost your God damn minds.”

The three of them giggle like real schoolboys until Eddie’s head snaps around like a cat locating its prey, silencing them in an instant. Something about the tension in his jaw, the intensity of his eyes makes you feel warm between your legs. It also makes a long quiet, mischievous part of you want to push him a little bit.

“When- when was this exactly?”

Four sets of eyes turn to you; one incredulous, the other three shifty like they’re weighing up the consequences of being the first to speak.

“Friday,” the final boy says, eyes darting to Eddie whose face is swiftly turning pink. “He said you were going on a date, that he might be driving you after. Never seen him so excited. And hey, looks like it went well, Eds?”

“You know something crazy?” Eddie grits. “I could've sworn I just heard Matthew’s voice. But that's impossible, because he’s dead to me.”

“Eddie!” You chide, watching his sweet, angry face, his lips set in an unintentional pout. This time, the kiss you press to his cheek is long, and in full view of his friends. Your heart pounds as you do it, aware of their eyes right on you, but it's entirely worth it to see Eddie’s pink cheeks darken further. You tap your feet a little, your own face heating while you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “I was excited on Friday, too.”

You expect he might glare at his friends again when a chorus of ooh’s starts up behind you, but instead Eddie settles back into his seat, trying and failing to fight a happy grin, his dimples appearing even as his eyebrows are pulling together in an attempt at keeping up his anger. He squeezes your hand tight before he lets go to make a turn, then reaches out again immediately to take your palm back in his.

“Hey, have you done any of the Chemistry homework?” Jeff asks, head appearing in the front, hiding Eddie from you.

“Yes,” you nod, remembering the brutal questions you’d spent the rest of your Sunday on after returning from town with Heather. “In between bouts of tears.”

“Jesus. I know. Do you remember ever being taught anything about retention factors?”

You shake your head, humming the negative. “We weren’t.”

“What does Mr Brown get from that? I mean I thought he wanted us to say, hey, you old bastard, you never fucking taught us this. But literally last week Jessie told him we hadn't learned molecular orbitals when it was on the test, and she got detention.”

“Note to self. Don’t do AP Chemistry.”

“I really don’t think that’s a choice you’ll have available to you, Gareth.”

“Hey! I got a B+ on the last assignment-”

“I’m your lab partner!” Matthew cries, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “I wrote the whole thing!”

You watch them sitting uncomfortably together on the small back seat, arguing from either side of Jeff, whose stone faced grimace makes you giggle. When you turn back, Eddie is stopped at the lights and gazing at you, looking proud.

You shrug bashfully, because talking to Jeff isn't so impressive. It's always been easier to speak to people who understand what it’s like to lose your words.

You feel eyes on you when you jump from Eddie’s van in the school parking lot, uncomfortable prickles crawling up your neck. When you catch the eyes of two cheerleaders you rarely speak to despite sitting with them every day, you see their lips moving, smiles turning, and hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Then it’s just Eddie, eyes level with yours, close enough you could count the long dark eyelashes that frame them. “You alright?”

You nod, giving him a brave smile. Your fingers twitch, wanting his hand again. “Okay. I have to, uh, meet somebody. But I can leave you with the guys, right?”

You nod again, wanting to tell Eddie that you’ve always liked Jeff, that you think you could like Gareth and Matthew, too. Suddenly you’re thinking about your own friends, and how hard it will be to explain this arrival on top of your dates with Eddie over the weekend. A part of you wants to beg him to get back in his van with you. You could drive to his trailer, hole up in the room that smells like him and hide in his arms.

Another part wants to grab his face and kiss him in front of anyone who might be watching, scream at anyone who might hear that you've been waiting for this joy for what feels like your whole life.

But you are stuck here, in an uncomfortable place between the two.

“Eddie, will you-” You swallow, pressing the toe of your shoe into the tarmac.

“Just tell me what you need, sweet thing. I’ll do it.”

You could cry at how earnest he sounds, how much he means it. Instead you step forward and press your face to his shoulder, wrap your arms around his lithe waist in a hug. You hope he knows you want to give him more, that you’re trying for him. When Eddie’s hands come round your shoulders, giving your body a tight squeeze, you’re sure he does.

“Hey, you wanna come to my place after school?” You nod into his shoulder, sighing happily at the thought of time spent with Eddie removed from pestering eyes. When you force yourself from him, he gives you a final once over. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Mm.”

As Eddie walks away, you feel a bump on your shoulder and turn to find Jeff grinning at you. He raises an eyebrow and you find yourself covering your face and giggling. “Stop!”

“I didn’t say anything!” He bumps your shoulder again while you walk to the door, past intent stares and whispering mouths. You grab the hem of your skirt, crumpling the fabric in your fist. Next to you Gareth and Matthew are talking about a new album they like, as if people turning to look at you over their shoulders don't matter one bit. Jeff speaks soft. “Hey, you wanna compare the homework before first period? I found an old textbook in the library and I think I have the right idea, but if you’ve given it a try, too-”

Your name comes in a distinctively curt call, the way your Mom used to say it when she found you playing in mud and pretended not to be angry. Your heart drops, toes curling your shoes. May’s expression is tight, eyes fixed on you to avoid looking at the boys you are surrounded by.

Your mouth opens to speak, but what do you say here? Introduce them? Apologise? Fabric twists in your shaking fingers while you look up at Jeff, knowing that you need to be left alone with your friend now.

“Let’s go over it another day,” Jeff says, giving you a brace filled smile and May a quick worried look. “See you later.”

Gareth and Matthew follow the farewell, and you’re left alone. Looking at May's face, you can't help but feel guilty.

She knows.

“You went on a date with him?”

Oh. She knows.

You pull your sleeves over your hands and nod, trying to remember the words you were rehearsing this morning, trying to picture how this scene could play out in a way that ends with May’s smile. You are left empty by the disappointment, the exhaustion in her expression. You just twist your sleeves in your thumbs. “How did you-”

“Tracy's boyfriend works at the diner in town. He didn't know your name, but he told her the freak was there with that one girl that never says anything and well, it wasn't that hard for her and everybody else to work it out." She shakes her head, shrugging incredulously. "Were you even trying to hide it?” You shake your head, wanting it to be a proclamation that of course you weren't hiding, that you didn't want to hide Eddie one bit. Instead, it feels like the action of a scolded child admitting fault. “It’s like-” she starts, touching her forehead as if it’s aching, then clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “It’s like you’re determined to make life difficult for yourself.”

“May-”

“I mean, of everyone, everyone in school, you pick Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson. What is the aim here, exactly? To tank what reputation you have left? What are you going to say to Caroline at lunch when she asks about this?”

Caroline, something of a Queen Bee in the cheer squad. May has been trying to impress her for years. She's half the reason May joined cheerleading, why she saves up for those weekend trips instead of drinking smoothies and gossiping with you and Heather. Caroline is also the reason May is embarrassed of you more often than not, these days.

Caroline thinks you are strange. She has told you to your face. Conversations with her are limited to sharing the answers of your homework, asking you to do her makeup before a competition, comments about your silence, the fact you can’t look her in the eye, the way you fidget with your clothes.

You could probably ignore it, if you didn’t know it hurt May just as much because of her association with you.

“Oh wait, you won’t say anything. You’ll just sit there and wait for me to explain it for you. Well, I really don’t think I can do that. I mean, do you even know how much time I spent defending you after the Andy thing?” She waits, and you realise she’s expecting an answer. You shake your head and you feel pathetic. “It took up entire practices sometimes. But I did it, I defended you, just like I always do. No, guys, you don’t get it! She hurt cause Andy embarrassed her and she’s shy! Too shy to even try talking to any of you instead of just hanging around all the time, but not shy enough to avoid dating Eddie fucking Munson!”

It’s your longest shame. The memory of the first time you found it hard to speak to someone is hazy, but you know you were young, and that the dread involved in talking to new people, important people, popular people, has never gone away.

You sniff. “I- I’m not trying to make it hard for you.”

“Of course you aren’t!” She cries, exasperated. “But you’re not putting any effort into making it easy for me, either.”

“I didn’t- It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was- I wanted to explain everything.”

“What? So I could defend you properly?”

“No!” You cry, reaching for her hand and feeling relieved when she lets you take it. You stare at your fingers holding hers, your matching pale blue nails. “No, May. I hate that I made you feel that way. I’m sorry that you’ve had to defend me. I’m sorry I've left you to explain, but this- I wanted to explain it myself so you could try to understand.”

“Try to understand what? Why you need to date Munson?”

“Yes. I know you don’t like him but he-” Is perfect for you, makes you feel safe, touches you like you’ve been waiting for. “He’s kind, May. And it’s like he- he knows how to talk to me when I…you know, get quiet.”

Her gaze snaps to you. You feel her fingers flex like she wants away from your touch. “And what? I don’t?”

"No, you do, May. You and Heather, you’re the only ones who ever really have. You know that. But, some of the others, like with Andy. It annoyed him.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it gets annoying.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your understanding.

“I’m sure Andy didn’t mind it in the beginning either.” May says. “Give Munson time. He might not like it so much when you’re six months in, still barely talking and all you’ve let him do is fucking dry hump you.”

You wince, hating to think about everything that happened, hating that she knew all that before you told her, hating that thought that Eddie could ever act the way Andy did. The tears that have been building finally start to spill, and you drag a sleeve up to your eyes, sniffing desperately and looking up to try and stop the pooling.

You hear May sigh, feel her squeeze your hand in what you’re sure is an apology.

“Okay. Fine. You like Munson. You told me that before and I should have taken it seriously but instead I sent you out into the woods to talk to him alone so, wow, I guess this is my fault.” You’re not sure if she’s joking, not sure what she wants you to say to any of that. “But I’m not justifying it to the cheer girls, okay? I mean it. If they want you gone, you’re sitting at the freak’s table for the rest of senior year whether you keep dating him or not.”

There is a single moment, fleeting in your mind, where the thought of that brings you relief.

She’s not wrong. You let your worries be taken up with explaining it to her, but you find yourself answering questions from just about everyone else all day.

A boy in Spanish you’ve never once spoken to, asking if you really got a ride to school with Eddie Munson this morning. Your desk partner in Math who always copies your answers passes you a note asking if it’s true you’ve been secretly dating for months. A freshman in the hallway whose brother you babysit asks if the freak is your boyfriend now, if you’re going to try and sneak him into her house when her parents are out.

Yes. No. Sort of. Of course not.

Maybe you should feel prepared when you walk into the cafeteria, ready to be questioned. One look at Caroline's picture perfect smile and your packed lunch is shaking in your trembling fingers.

You spy the empty seats directly opposite her as you approach. Like it's planned, like she wanted to keep your options closed. Instinctively, you look over to the other side of the cafeteria as you sit, wishing Eddie were with you and not at the head of his table, gesticulating with his hands with each beat of the story he’s telling his friends.

“Oh, my God. It’s true.” Your gaze snaps back, feeling caught out even though you weren’t trying to hide. Caroline’s own eyes move from where she had followed yours to your face, eyebrows pulled together like she can’t believe somebody so strange as you could be real. You stare at her chin, shaking your knee under the table. “You are dating Munson.”

“Yes."

You hear the chair beside you pull out, see May sitting in your periphery with a light smile. “Hi, girls!”

“Did you know about this?” Caroline asks, gesturing to you with her head like you’re a red wine stain on a white shag carpet.

“God, no." She did warn you, but it still feels like a betrayal, still hurts your chest like one. "Not until Tracy phoned yesterday.”

“I mean, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised,” Caroline replies, widening her eyes and smirking. “If anyone was going to have a thing for the freak.”

You would like to be strong. You would like to sound eloquent and speak with finality. Instead, you force out quiet words. "He’s kind.”

It’s as if you didn’t say anything at all.

“Is this because Andy broke up with you?” You glance over down the table at the curious face of another girl, her hair tied back in the familiar green scrunchie. “Like is this you trying to make him jealous?” You flinch, shaking your head, but she continues, voice half a giggle. “Cause I mean, I think you may have picked the wrong guy.”

“I’m- I’m not trying to make anybody jealous.”

“My God. Imagine being jealous of Eddie Munson,” Caroline laughs, earning herself a chorus of agreement.

“Have you seen that van he drives?”

“He's been a senior since I started high school.”

“I had to go to his place once to pick up. You know he lives in a trailer, right?”

“Yes.” You answer, the judgement of his home, cosy and safe, filled with Eddie’s presence, so personal that it lends you a moment of defiance.

“Oh, you've been?” Caroline again, her pretty blue eyes set right on you. She tilts her head, hair falling in a smooth wave over her shoulder. “What have you been getting up to with that boy?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as dread settles. She's looking at you like she knows every salacious thing you have done in Eddie's bedroom, like she was standing over you during every intimate moment, and is now excited to share. Taking a breath, your mouth opens even as you have nothing to say.

“I think it’s cute.”

Erin Maclean sits with a forkful of salad ready to go into her mouth, grinning to the side. Clearly she's happy to have interrupted Caroline's excitement at having caught you out. You suspect displeasing Caroline is a bigger motive for Erin than any righteous feelings she might get from defending you.

She has been one step out the door of being able to sit at the table for months, since everyone found out she slept with Caroline’s boyfriend at a party, a perfect high school scandal that made its way round the school and culminated in Erin being shunned by the whole table…until she threatened to quit cheerleading entirely. More talented than any of the others, her tumbling won the cheer team second place at regionals.

Even Caroline's influence wasn't strong enough to go up against the desire to win. Now they content themselves with iciness to Erin's face and talking viciously behind her back.

You judged her at the time. It was only later, after Andy, that you saw the hypocrisy. It was like he had no part in things going wrong. Then the injustice became clear, that cruel insults are written about Erin in bathroom stalls months later, while the boy involved, the only one of the triangle who cheated, suffered a single week of pouty silence followed by a public reconciliation that flicked the single spot of dust from his reputation away for good.

You stare at Erin now, amazed at the ease in her voice, the way she plays them all to her tune.

“It’s kinda like," she waves her hand in the air. "Who’s that teen actress with the red hair?”

“Molly Ringwald! I love her!”

“Yeah! They’re like Molly Ringwald and the punk guy in the Breakfast Club.”

“Don’t spoil it! I haven’t seen it yet!”

“Damon finally watched Sixteen Candles with me last week, it was so romantic.”

Just like that, the discussion has moved past you, to someone else’s much more suitable boyfriend, one worthy of their time. You feel your bottom lip shake with the beginning of relieved tears, blinking them away when you find Erin’s gaze.

She gives you a close lipped smile, but she looks sad with it. The sweet relief you were feeling is dulled by the pity in her eyes.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

By last period, you are exhausted with answering questions and explaining yourself to people who have never before taken an interest in you. You drop yourself behind a desk and let your head fall forward into your notebook, hoping that hiding your face will prevent any questions from the students filtering into the History class. You filter out the chatter, your head noisy enough on its own.

Gentle fingers brush at the hair on your temple, and when you turn your head, you find Eddie squatting down beside your desk. At once, the sight of his tender smile soothes the tightness in your chest. You gaze at him, the features of his handsome face, and know that every question, every moment of frustration, will be entirely worth it if he will keep looking at you like this.

“You okay, sweet girl?”

You almost nod, almost lie, but the truth comes easily with Eddie. “I’m tired.”

“Needed to talk to everybody and their dog today, I bet,” he says, rubbing the curve of his finger over your cheek. This time you do nod, realising he must have experienced the same thing all day. Eddie sighs, as you had. “'S my fault.”

That makes you sit up straight, registering the guilt in his expression. “No, it isn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes follow your movement, and he gives you a dejected smile. “It’s because of me.”

You shake your head, hating that even more, hating that he thinks he’s the problem when just the sight of his face is what makes the real problem disappear from your mind.

“It’s because of us,” you correct, thinking about reaching out to curl a lock of his hair around your finger but curling your fingers into your palms instead. “And I-” You look away from his eyes, focusing on his forehead so you can say it. “I kissed you first, remember?”

Eddie’s face goes from concerned to soft in an instant, eyes wide and shining as he tilts his head, face splitting into a smile. “That’s true.”

“Move, Munson,”

You both glance up at Mark; stocky, scowling, clad in green and white. Shaking his head, Eddie looks at you and rolls his eyes. “If only the class were set up in some kind of grid system, then he could get round me so easily.”

You giggle softly until Eddie is shoved with a knee, almost toppling him until he grasps your desk, looking up again in disbelief.

“I said move.”

“Well, if you insist.” Eddie straightens up, taking a step right into Mark’s space to wrap his arms around the back of his neck and swing them round like they’re dancing. He waggles his eyebrows, tilting his chin up with a grin. “This is so romantic.”

“Jesus-” Mark pushes Eddie away from him, sending him crashing back into his seat in a way that must hurt, not that Eddie's laughter would give it away. “You are a freak, Munson.”

“Don’t talk to me like what we had wasn’t special!” Eddie calls after him, adjusting himself in his seat and pouting at you. “They always run.”

You rest your chin in your hand, in awe of him. Eddie looks like he's already moved on. He can deal with cruel words and physical intimidation like it’s all a joke, when an off tone on a single word can leave you wringing your hands all day.

Eddie sighs, resting his own head on his hand opposite you. “You know, I really wanna pass this class, and if I’m gonna pay attention, you’ll have to stop that.”

You hear the teacher starting up at the front of the room, but you have to ask. “Stop what, Eddie?”

He tilts his chin up. “Lookin’ so pretty.”

You make distressed sound like you want him to stop, but you can’t fight the cheek aching smile that sits on your face the whole class.

When the final bell rings, you are desperate to get out of the building before anyone new can approach. You find yourself grabbing Eddie's hand the second your bags are packed, half dragging the giddy looking boy through the halls and then outside to the safety of his van.

When the doors are closed and you are speeding away, listening to Matthew and Jeff argue about what should be on the stereo, hearing Eddie snapping at them and starting up a Dio tape without further discussion, you feel you can breathe properly for the first time since you got up this morning.

Eddie grabs your hand the second Jeff and the others have jumped from the back of his van, the three of them calling out goodbyes to both of you by name. “Still happy to come back to mine?”

You nod, wanting that desperately. “We could do the History homework.”

“Shit. I told you I wanted to pass that class, didn't I?”

“Mm hmm.”

"Always setting yourself up, Munson," he mumbles, sighing. "Okay, Princess. For you, I will sit with you in close proximity to my bed and…do homework with you.”

“It’s always easier with two people. May and I-” You cut yourself off, reminded that you don't entirely know where your longest friendship stands. Telling her did not go at all how you’d planned. You’ve annoyed her, something you’ve been doing more and more recently. But maybe it hurt her, too, that she found out from somebody else.

“I guess you told your friends?”

“Mm,” you sigh. “I didn’t get to tell May the way I wanted to.”

“Right. Just checking, you think there’s anything you could have done that would have made her cool with this?”

You consider that, opening and closing your mouth a few times before shrugging. “I don't know. But I wanted- I mean, my plan was...” You squirm a little, finding your new favourite thing to play with, the gem set into Eddie's ring cool to the touch of your finger. “I wanted to tell her why I…like you so much.”

You expect a little tease. Nothing terrible, but Eddie brand mischief at least. Instead, his shoulders roll back like you've given him a bout of new confidence. He glances at you after turning the sharp corner into the trailer park.

“I’m still not entirely used to that,” he admits. “You know, three different people came up to me today, asking if you were really my girlfriend.” You sit with him when he stops outside his home, pressing one shoe to the top of the other.

“And what did you say?”

“I told them it had nothing to do with them and it was weird as hell to be asking when they don’t even know me.” Eddie gives your hand a squeeze. “And then some guy called Jeff says, what are you talking about Eddie, we’ve been friends for years? So I thought I’d tell him anyway, cause I sort of wanted to talk about it.” Eddie’s face is serious, looking into your eyes. “Told him I hadn’t asked, but I am going to."

“Okay,” you whisper, heart fluttering. Eddie watches the way you sit up in your seat, and brings your hand to his lips to lay a soft kiss at your knuckles.

“Not yet though,” Eddie says, tone suddenly lighter as he opens the door at his side, hair flying behind him as he jumps out of the van. “Gotta be at just the right moment, you know?”

You blink after him, close to a huff, but the sound of his boyish laugh is so sweet that you find yourself climbing out and jogging after him to keep yourself close, where you want to be.

The TV is on in the space of the living room, but Wayne is standing in the kitchen. Water sloshes. You hear the sound of scoured metal against a pan over the serious voice of a newscaster reading headlines.

“Hi Wayne!” Eddie calls, removing his jacket and throwing it on the couch unceremoniously.

“Afternoon." Wayne catches you standing at the door when he looks up to greet Eddie and gives you an acknowledging nod. "Hi again.”

You wave briefly and give in to the temptation to hide, pressing the side of your face to Eddie’s arm when he takes your hand. "We have homework. For History."

Wayne nods again, glancing between the two of you. "Not a problem. Just cleaning up after my breakfast. You want coffee or anything?"

"I do. Sweetheart?" You shake your head, the urge not to be a bother always present. Eddie bumps your hip with his. "I can make one how you like it in case you change your mind, mm?"

"Okay, Eddie." You let go of him reluctantly, feeling out of place watching him and Wayne fluidly move around each other in their kitchen.

"You wanna get us set up at the table?" Eddie asks. You nod, glad to have been given a task to stop you standing in the middle of the room feeling at odds. You sit at the little fold out table by the kitchen, retrieving your History folder, notebook and pencil case from your bag while dishes clink and coffee is poured to your right.

"You two got a lot of classes together?" Wayne asks, setting the washed pan on a drying rack next to the sink.

"Not this year. This one's working for college credits in a bunch of subjects."

You smile at the pride in Eddie’s voice, digging a toe of your sneaker into the floor.

"You heading to college next year?" Wayne is asking you directly, leaning back on the counter and drying his hands on a kitchen towel. You nod, hum a little positive sound. "Where you headed?"

"Mm, my friends are probably staying in Indiana...”

Wayne’s face is serious, edging on concerned. “Didn’t ask about your friends. Wanna know about you.”

Your face heats. You glance at Eddie, who is already looking over his shoulder at you like he knew you’d need him. He gives you a little smile, an encouraging nod, and you glance back at Wayne. “I mean, I guess I might just stay with them. But, I don’t know, I might try for NYU?”

"She's gonna write about old poems in other languages. That’s right, isn’t it, sweetheart?" Eddie places your mug down on the table and throws himself down in the opposite chair, immediately searching through your open pencil case. You see his eyes widen in delight, landing on a pale blue pen with a fluffy top that you sometimes play with when you’re in class and the teacher is calling on people to speak. Eddie presses the softness at the end to his face, strokes it up and down his cheek. “Why aren’t all pens like this?”

You watch him adoringly while he tickles his own neck and laughs softly to himself.

"It was nice seeing you again," Wayne says, suddenly closer. When you turn to him, feeling sheepish that you had, for a second, forgotten he was there, he's giving you a small, but genuine smile.

You realise that you've been caught. You can only imagine the way you look at Eddie, especially in the moments he acts like this, sweet and silly and him. Maybe your expression showcases it, the fact that you’d rather look at Eddie than anything else.

"You, too.” You mumble, clearing your throat to try and get the next words out more clearly. “Thanks, um, for letting me work here."

"Course. Anyone my boy wants around is welcome. You take care. I'll see you later, Eddie."

Eddie finally pays attention, bringing the soft fluff down from his chin and grinning. "Later, Wayne."

You smile shyly when Wayne’s out the door, remembering the last time he left the two of you alone in this trailer, Eddie’s hands and mouth exactly where you wanted him most, where you are fighting against the want for him now.

You search through your pencil case for a slightly more practical pen. “I thought, maybe, we could do the questions together? I can start at five if you do one, and we could meet in the middle?”

Eddie’s head tilts, his hair falling across his mischievous face. “You actually wanna do the History homework? It's not due till Wednesday."

"But you have a gig tomorrow."

Eddie considers this fact for a second, then leans his head back and groans into the air. He slumps, bum sliding forward on his seat until his body is a diagonal line from the back of the chair to the floor. He looks so much like a grumpy little boy with his big pouty lips and wide eyes that your heart aches a little even while you’re close to laughing at him. "I hadn't considered this,” he sighs, arms crossing over his chest. “You're really gonna make me do my homework all the time, aren't you?"

"Oh. I mean, I thought-” You suddenly feel a little silly, find yourself playing with the paper of your notebook, curling up the corner of the top page with your thumb. “I guess I thought it would be nice. But I can- I’m happy to go home, next time.”

Eddie shakes his head decisively, grasping the table to help sit himself up. "No, Jesus. I don’t want that. I’d choose doing my homework with you over doing anything else without you. Always.” He rests his elbows on the surface, leaning in close enough you can smell the smoke and the mint of his breath. “I guess I’m just wondering how much of the time we’ll spend on homework is time I could have spent with my tongue inside you."

The space between your legs pulses with sudden heat, leaving you rubbing your thighs together. You could curse him for having this amount of power over you already, that he can say something so casually that leaves you with the beginnings of an encompassing ache. Eddie is grinning, proud of himself, watching your eyes keep darting from his face to the table and back again, searching through your blank mind for a reply.

“But you call the shots here, sweet thing,” he acquiesces, satisfied by the shadow of regret on your face. “Question one, you said? I’ll get right on that.”

You watch him write his name at the top of the paper, leaning over the table. The concentrated look in his big eyes as he reads the question, his pink tongue coming to rest at his top lip. His soft hair is asking to be stroked as well as pulled. The pale column of his neck begs for kisses. The curve of his arms and the tattooed skin peeking out from his shirt want your tracing fingers.

“Stop it,” you mumble, pressing a toe to the end of one of his Reebox under the table.

“Stop what?”

You tilt your head. “Mm. Looking so pretty.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. Me? He mouths, pressing a palm to his chest as you nod. That hand moves to drag some of his hair across his face. Eddie plays it up, but you know that you have made him genuinely happy because, when he is done fluttering his eyelashes, his gaze moves to the table and he looks, for a second, earnestly shy.

“Well, I guess I’ll try. But no promises.”

Eddie writes quick, once he’s settled. As you finish your first question, he has written his answers for two. Your agreement, to work on the third question together, gives him a moment of pause that his busy brain latches onto. It drags him on to the next activity as soon as he’s written his last word, and then he’s offering you more coffee and searching through the cupboards for a preferred snack. He even disappears into his room for a minute, emerging with a mug he’d used yesterday that he throws in the sink before returning to his snack hunt.

It reminds you of the way you’ve seen Eddie in class sometimes. Deeply focused, then suddenly playing with the ends of his hair, drumming a distracting beat, doodling on his notebook around the beginnings of what must have been good notes.

It’s only when you’re finished with your own questions and reading through his that you bring him back to the table. It doesn’t take much, just an exclamation of, “Eddie, that’s a really good point!”

He is sitting down opposite you the next second, looking just as pleased at that as he was to be called pretty.

The second your pens are down from writing the final answer, Eddie is round your side of the table and pulling you up from the chair by your forearms like he wants to run away from the books and paper in case you suggest any more work. “That was exhausting,” he says, walking backwards to keep his eyes on you, briefly tripping over a discarded magazine but otherwise walking with practised ease. “You do that all the time?”

You giggle to watch him throw himself back on his bed and give a tired groan as if he’d just written ten thousand words and not five short paragraphs. He toes off his shoes carelessly, kicking them from his feet while you kneel to tug at your laces

“You really never do your homework?” You ask, loosening the tongue of your left sneaker and pulling it off before shifting to the right one.

“I try. Sometimes. I just, y’know, get bored,” Eddie says above your head. “Then I get distracted, and I can’t get back into it.”

“Well, we can work together, now.” You finish with your other shoe and look up at him from the floor, finding Eddie’s gaze intent on you already. You swallow, glancing at his knees, bare through denim, spread apart from each other on his bed. If you shuffled forward a couple of feet, you’d be between them.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s shoulders roll back, hands behind him on the bed. “You gonna keep me motivated? Reward me when I’m good?”

A shiver runs up your back, the ache that had never truly gone away now roaring its presence. It is a strange feeling, to know that Eddie likes looking at you on your knees, that he must like the thought of what you could do for him, positioned like this. And then, to still feel unsure. Maybe you’ve misunderstood. Maybe you haven’t and doing what you think he wants would be a mistake anyway. You don’t know what you’re doing, and he won’t like it. If he does like it, if you’re good at that, what would that say about you?

Do you ask to do it? If he asks you, what do you say back? You know he likes the things you say to him when he is touching you. But to beg and praise and thank him when your body is alight with the pleasure he gives happens naturally. It happens without the involvement of your brain, when your ecstatic body tells your mouth the things Eddie wants to hear.

What do you say when you are the one giving? When your brain is working full tilt to ensure you are doing everything right?

You look briefly between his legs, the metal buckle of his belt, the black denim that hides him from you, and you are both wanting and scared. You find his eyes, and they are kind.

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“C’mere.”

You clamber up to him, almost a familiar position now to be sat in his lap with your knees bracketing his thighs. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself be soothed by the softness of his shirt against your cheek and the smell of him; smoke and weed, his cheap and pleasant aftershave. Eddie hums low, stroking a hand down the back of your head, massaging gently at your neck.

“I wish-” You mumble, regretting it immediately, the end of the sentence too embarrassing to say. You think he might prompt you, but instead he keeps rubbing at the back of your head with his thumb, his hand a delightful warm pressure on your neck. You breathe in the boyish smell of him, mind settling on Eddie who is kind, Eddie who won’t judge, Eddie who wants to look after you.

“I wish I could talk like you.”

“I’m not sure this town could handle another person who talks the same shit I talk, sweet thing,” he laughs. “Besides, I’d miss the way you talk.”

You hide your whole face in his shoulder, voice coming out muffled. “But I mean…in bed.” Embarrassment crawls up and down your spine to be saying this. “It’s like it’s easy. You just make me all- make me so-”

You unconsciously wiggle on his lap, a desirous little movement that doesn’t escape Eddie. He huffs a soft laugh into your cheek. “I make you so…hot and wet in your little cunt?”

You squeeze your eyes shut even though the world is already hidden by his shoulder against your face. “Eddie,”.

“You know, it’s probably easier than you think.” Eddie’s big hand locates yours where it was pressed to his chest, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your palm before he lowers it. “Cause, you? Fuck, sweetheart, all you need to do is say my name.” Eddie presses your palm to his crotch, where you can feel him, thick and hard under the zip. “Say it again.”

He lets you curl your fingers, getting a feel for the girth of him, the length hidden by denim. You turn your head from his shoulder, glancing up at his face to find that the warm brown of his eyes has vanished behind pools of black. You whisper. “Eddie.”

You feel the excited twitch of his cock at the sound of his name from your lips. He is hot and ready against your palm, and the thought of touching him more, seeing him like he’s seen you takes over your brain. “Eddie,” you murmur, earning yourself another twitch, followed this time by his soft lips on yours. Your shoulders release their tension, content to feel Eddie’s mouth, to taste the promise that you are allowed to get things wrong because it’s him. You gasp softly when he releases you, your eyes fluttering closed when he dots kisses over your face, breath heavy when your palm rolls tentatively over his swollen cock. “Eddie, I want-” Your throat protests, and you pause to build yourself up to it again.

“Do you want my mouth?”

Your pussy throbs, the memory of Eddie’s tongue at your entrance, how soft his lips were kissing your clit. “Oh. Yes, please.”

“S’fucking sweet,” he says, grabbing your hand from his crotch. “Lie back, baby-”

“Wait,” you gasp, tightening your legs on either side of him to keep him from turning you over. “I want- I want to-”

Your toes curl, wishing again you could be more like Eddie, who offers his tongue with the same ease as a cup of coffee.

Eddie strokes his thumb over your wrist, feels your racing pulse under his fingers and shakes his head, soft hair moving with him. “You don’t have to do anything, baby.”

“I know,” you answer with certainty, chest warm. It’s the knowing you don’t have to that makes you want to. It’s the fact that Eddie doesn’t expect you to offer anything more than what you’re willing to give that makes you want to give so much.

You can’t say it, not how you want to, but you can still tell him.

You turn your wrist out of his hand, grab his own. Your heart pounds when you curl three of his fingers down. You clasp his wrist with both hands, hoping they can keep each other steady, and bring his fingers to your lips. Chancing a look at Eddie when your tongue flicks out along his rough pads, you find his mouth hanging loose, eyes blinking and intent on your lips. He tastes like his last cigarette at the tips, like skin further down. You breathe heavily through your nose as you press your head forward, sliding along his warm fingers until your lips meet the cool metal of his rings. Your tongue curls naturally around the length of the digits, and the noise that escapes the back of Eddie’s throat when you suck gently stokes the heat between your thighs, the sticky feeling of cotton pressing to wet skin.

“Okay,” he breathes, face flushed. “Okay, shit.”

You pull back, dragging the soft inside of your lips along his skin, and Eddie makes a low groan in the back of his throat, one of his legs shaking between yours. “Will you-” His voice breaks, a soft squeak at the last word, and you hear him clear his throat desperately through your heart beating in your ears. Eddie sighs, speaks soft. “Open your mouth a little for me, sweet thing.”

It takes you a second, still wrapping your head around the satisfying feeling of your mouth being filled, the taste of Eddie’s skin, the ability to speak taken away. Your mouth opens wider as soon as the request registers in your brain. You let Eddie press his fingers deeper, your eyes fluttering at the smooth glide over your tongue. Just as you get a taste of the metal of his rings, your body protests the depth, our fingers twitching at the gagging sound your throat makes. You blink away the first spring of tears as Eddie coos softly, tilting your head so you’re looking right at his intent gaze, his gentle pout. He draws his fingers in and out of your mouth, skating along your drooling tongue.

“Just wanted to see what I’m working with, mm? My girl wants my cock in her mouth, is that it?”

You try to make a positive noise, but it comes out as any other sound would with your lips wide open like this. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He gives another deep prod with his fingers, grinning when your prepared throat lets him in a little deeper before protesting with a short gag.

Eddie pulls his fingers from your mouth and grasps your cheeks with his wet hand, the curve that connects his forefinger and thumb sitting at your chin. “I think you’re gonna be a natural. You wanna get on your knees for me?”

The tears that had sprung up from your gagging pool a little more at the relief of Eddie taking over. You’ve told him what you want without words, he understood, and now he’s going to give you it. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Okay, baby.” He helps you off the bed, kicking shoes out of the way and replacing them on the floor with one of his pillows, making you feel soft for him even as you’re trembling in anticipation. Your head feels light when you sink down, settling your knees on the pillow before you look up at his flushed, smiling face. “Comfy?”

Eddie’s fingers push back stray hairs from your forehead when you nod, his thumb rubbing soft over your cheekbone. “You can stop any time, you know that, right?” Another nod from you, your hands coming to rest at the inner seams of his jeans, feeling the radiating warmth there. “Even half way through, even right at the end, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“I want a God damn recording of you saying that,” he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss wet with your spit and his. “I’d play it on a fucking loop everywhere I go.”

You hum, body tingling in a mix of excitement and worry. Waiting to touch Eddie, wanting it to be good for him. Knowing he’ll help you, hoping he doesn’t mind. Chewing your lip, you rub your hand up his thigh, staring at his face the whole time. You find him hard and straining still, a soft whimper edging from his mouth at the pressure of your fingers.

“Baby, I’ve got to-” He groans at the back of his throat. “Can I take it out?”

You nod quickly, the ends of your fingers rubbing the bulge of him as Eddie attacks his belt, his desperation to get it open making his fingers clumsy, fiddling with the clasp until he starts shaking his knee in exasperation. You hear the gentle clink of the buckle when he finally succeeds with it, followed by the differing metallic sound of his zip.

Eddie’s hand disappears under the grey band of his boxers, and you feel his fingers slide under yours through his pants. His shoulders shake, like he’s been waiting for this relief, like it was hurting, when his hand jerks under the cotton. You stare at that place, the thick, dark curls of hair that peak out from his waistband, the movement of his hand under shifting fabric. Your tongue peeks out to wet dry lips.

He laughs softly when he catches the anticipation on your face, dimples appearing at his cheeks. Eddie sounds like he’s only just realised what’s happening. “Fuck. Fuck. You want my cock in your mouth.”

Your cunt clenches and you find yourself nodding, watching his hand drag his cock out from his jeans, pulling his fist over the thick length in a few quick strokes. “You ever seen a dick before?” You shake your head, eyes fixed on the round, smooth end of him that peeks out from folds of pink skin when his hand glides back. “Shit, man. It’s fucked. I know it’s fucked but that’s so hot.”

His hands speeds up, drawing out some liquid from his tip, pooling at his slit. A primal part of you resents being made to watch, your fingers digging into his thigh in protest. Eddie’s body shakes up his back. “I’m sorry, baby. ‘S all yours.”

The fear that he might leave you on your own to work out what to do rises and falls away when he grabs your hand and shows your where to touch him. Eddie wraps your hand around him at the base, and you feel the twitching you’d only known through fabric, now directly in your palm, along your fingers.

You swallow as Eddie guides your pace, feeling the soft skin wrapped around firm flesh. “A little tighter, baby- yeah, yeah, shit. Wait, fuckin’, shit, spit on your hand a little. S’better if it’s wet.” It’s like a call and response, the way you take barely a second to spit into your palm and return your hand to glide along his cock. It is easier, your hand moving smoother. “Twist a little at the end.” You follow his advice, turning your hand at his tip, and he groans through his teeth. You watch more cum leaking from him, dripping from his slit, pooling within the skin that covers his head every time your hand moves up towards the end of his cock.

You hardly expect it yourself when your tongue lathes over the end of him. Eddie cries out above you but you hardly notice, considering the new taste of him, musk and salt like the sweat on your top lip after a long run. Strange and new but not unpleasant. Your tongue peeks out again to lap softly at his head, licking away pooling cum and leaving the head of him wet with your spit, unknowingly teasing him beyond what he can handle.

“That taste good, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, voice strained. You look up at him with wide eyes and hum positively, any thoughts of embarrassing desperation miles away when Eddie is watching you like this. “You gonna let me fuck your mouth now?”

Your pussy throbs when Eddie brushes your hand away from his cock, grasping the base with his own ring covered hand and tapping himself against your tongue. The wet dirty sound of it, the feeling of his spongy head bouncing on your tongue makes you squirm, opening your mouth wider so he has the space to take it how he wants it.

His cock glides easily along your wet tongue until his head, heavy and warm, is past your lips entirely. “If you- if you cover your teeth you can- yeah,” he laughs when you instinctively bring your lips over your top teeth to suck at the swollen flesh filling your mouth, Eddie’s big hand rubbing at the length still exposed to the air. “Was right, baby. You were fucking made for this.”

Eddie seems torn between letting his head fall back on his neck to focus on the feel of you, and remembering every detail of how you look on your knees for him; eyes wide, mouth stretched open. His face keeps disappearing and reappearing, thrown back then staring down. You keep sucking gently, enjoying the weight of him on your tongue, the constant drip of salt slick from his cock. Praise from Eddie has your clit twitching, and you think distantly about dipping your fingers into your panties to rub at the swollen button. But you want Eddie’s tongue more, the thought of it making you whine around his cock.

Eddie’s hips buck, his cock pushing deeper until it hits the same place his fingers had prodded, your throat clenching in protest. You pull away from him, leaving him wet with drool, to take a breath. “M’sorry, m’sorry,” he breathes, stroking the back of your head with one hand and pressing his tip into your mouth with the other. “Get back on my cock.”

You squirm as you take him back inside, bobbing your head in time with his hand moving along his cock. You rub his thighs, still hidden in his jeans, feeling the ocassional twitch under your fingers from him fighting the urge to ignore your protesting throat and fuck himself deeper. “We’re gonna do this all the time now, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, wanting this feeling again, as much as he’ll let you have it. Sitting at Eddie’s feet, making him feel good, the heavy thickness of him filling up your mouth.

“Yeah, we’re gonna train you up, baby. ‘M gonna help you take it deeper till you can take my cock in your tight little throat. Till I can feel myself here.” He rubs a thumb over the hollow of your neck, pressing down like he’s imagining massaging his cock through the skin. “That sound good?”

You groan, feeling desperate now. Your panties are uncomfortably wet, your hips grinding into the air in the search for friction. Wanting him to cum, wanting him to cum now, you reach up to brush his working hand from his slick cock, replacing it with your own, trying to replicate his pace and jerking him into your bobbing mouth.

“Shit,” Eddie gasps, both hands threading through your hair at the scalp, a tight painful grip that only makes your core throb, encouraging you along. You feel his cock twitch desperately in your mouth, under your fingers. “So warm, so fucking good on my cock, you’re unbelievable. This can’t be real. You’re a siren- a fucking succubus, you’re gonna kill me- fuck!”

Eddie’s ramblings make you more desperate for him, things only he would say, pushing you to take him deeper, the head of him finding the tight beginning of your throat. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum now.”

He pulls his cock from your mouth rapidly, leaving your hand to work him through his orgasm. You watch wide eyed at the twitch along his cock, his heavy balls underneath, followed by ropes of white cum from his tip. It covers your hand, warm and thicker than what had been dripping onto your tongue.

You rub a thumb over the end of him, taking the last clinging drop before you bring your hand to your mouth, licking tentatively. The taste is almost familiar now, the texture new. “Holy shit-” You lap at it on your hand, a mix of curiosity about your own ability to taste and swallow him and the knowledge that boys are supposed to like it when girls do this. With anyone else, you might be worried about seeming desperate. You don’t mind Eddie knowing that you are.

You gather spit in your mouth to help you swallow down what was on your hand, blinking at his softening cock for a second before kissing at what is left there. Eddie hisses, eyes closing tight while you lick up the rest of it.

“You swallowed everything, sweet thing?” Feeling a strange, salacious pride, you show him your tongue, wet and clear of his cum, only for Eddie to grasp your face and lick along the muscle, groaning into your mouth at what is left of his taste there. “Okay. Okay, come up here, I’m gonna- fuck. Have to eat your pussy.”

Eddie tucks himself away in his boxers, and then he’s hauling you up to him, dragging your dress up and off before pushing you down on his bed. Eddie lacks all the gentle finesse he’d brought to this yesterday. Gone is the boy who rubbed his cheek against your thigh while playing with the edge of your panties. He tears this pair down your legs like he’s angry at them for being there, pressing his face to your cunt like he needs the taste of you the same way he needs air.

“S’fuckin wet,” he groans, dragging his tongue from your entrance to your twitchy clit. “Imagine that. Sweetest fuckin’ girl in town, and getting on your knees for me leaves your cunt sticky.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking at the sensitive nerves until your toes curl in your frilled socks. Your hands find his hair, stroking through the soft, broken curls at the top of his head. Teeth brush your clit, your hips flying up against his face and your fingers grasping his hair tight enough it must hurt.

Eddie spits, saliva pooling at your wet entrance to ease the way for his fingers, sliding through your slick and his to target the delightful spot at the end of you.

“Eddie,” you cry, the build of it so much more intense than any time before, his fingers fucking your tight cunt while he sucks ungracefully at your clit. You gasp, high and desperate, your thighs closing around his head. Your fingers dig into his hair, keeping his wet mouth between your thighs while your hips roll desperately, using his outstretched, lapping tongue for your pleasure while your pussy clasps around his invading fingers. Your high is a quick, overwhelming thing. You feel it gush wet around his hand, the sounds of him playing with your hole increasingly sloppy until you’re keening, batting at his shoulder with tears in your eyes.

Your tense limbs loosen when Eddie’s mouth leaves you, tensing up for just a second at the final kiss Eddie gives your clit to feel the excited twitch of it against his lips. He crawls up your body, laying kisses on you at every level. Your mound, stomach, breasts. The hollow of your neck. His face is wet with you, leaving damp spots all across your skin. When his eyes are level with yours, his hair brushing the sides of your face, you reach up to tuck some of it behind his ear.

Eddie laughs softly, his breath warm and humid on your face. “Congratulations,” he breathes. Eddie presses his sweaty forehead to yours and the world becomes his big soft eyes. “You’re going to be in every wet dream I have for the rest of my fucking life.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him right down on top of you, stealing more kisses from him while his body weighs down on yours.

“How do you feel?” He asks, big hand rubbing your hip.

Another hum. Strange is the answer. To have been so in a moment just minutes ago, wanting something so desperately, and now to wonder what that wanting says about you. And then to resent that wonder, wanting to be present where you are, pleasured and cosy in Eddie’s bed, in his arms.

“Liked it,” you assure, looking from his cheeks to his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Felt so fucking good for me,” he breathes, leaving you chewing your lip bashfully. Eddie shakes his hair over your face, tickling your cheeks until you’re smiling and tucking it back again. Eddie kisses your forehead, your nose and your cheeks. Then your eyes, chin, jaw, back to your nose, soft lips scattering kisses over every bit of your face, leaving you giggly and breathless, clinging to him even more, needing him like this. He sighs into your mouth at the end. “Be my girlfriend.” Eddie’s eyes close tight the second he says it, face embarrassed while you lay under him, a picture of adoration. “I didn’t wanna ask like that- shit. Don’t answer.”

“I want to be your girlfriend, Eddie.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, as if you aren’t stroking a hand over his face like a lover, rubbing his eyebrow with your thumb to ease the tension at his forehead. Your heart aches at his sweetly concerned expression. “Cause I can ask better. I can make it romantic, you know?” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, chews at it cruelly while he stares at your contented face. “I want to deserve you.”

You shake your head. A better speaker would be able to lay out all the reasons he already does, that anyone half as good as him deserves anything, everything they want. You are left with something more simple. “I- I just want to be yours.”

It seems to work just as well. Eddie’s sigh is long and shuddery. The release in his shoulders is the loss of a long held tension that you are trying to rub away with gentle hands.

Next Part

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #tmyg

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