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emositecc · 2 days ago
Whoops! Whoopsie! :
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ghostyfacey · a day ago
Terror Time
AN: Quick blurb about our favorite assassin in a haunted house, all mistakes are mine.
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Warnings: Haunted house, cursing...I think that's it.
"Whose idea was this?"
"Definitely Tony," you mutter as you make your way through the crowd. It's only a few days before Halloween and Tony decided a haunted house was the best idea for a team outing.
"Still think this is a bad idea," Clint grumbles.
"That's why I didn't invite Banner or Steve. Just the fun bunch, plus Peter," Tony says, he steps aside to let the rest of you get in line for the haunted house.
"Can't we just walk through the corn maze?" Peter looks around frantically, swallowing hard.
"Don't worry Peter, if you get scared, you can hold my hand," you hold your hand out to him and Natasha swats it.
"Sorry kid, I'm not sharing."
"Is the Black Widow afraid of haunted houses?" You tease.
"No," she sneers, "maybe I just like holding your hand," her voice is enticingly sultry as her fingers tangle with yours.
"Right," you drawl, earning a smack to your side. The line is moving a little slower now as you crawl towards the entrance.
"What Slasher do you think you could take?" Tony starts, "in a fight, I mean."
"Easy, Jason Voorhees" you boast.
"Baby, you get gassed after one sparring session with me, Jason would just keep coming," Natasha teases.
"You act like I wouldn't keep fighting out of sheer stubbornness," you cross your arms. Natasha is about to say something until someone ushers your group past the entrance.
It's dark, really dark. You can hear faint screams from other patrons, plus Peter's continuous groaning.
"Are you scared yet?" you whisper in Natasha's ear and she scoffs, "I don't get scared."
"Whatever you say, Tash," you step in front of her to take the lead. There's a monster or ghoul at almost every turn, you jump and yell from fright and laugh every time, getting Natasha to laugh with you.
You come to a pitch black room, you throw your hands out in front of you to try and find a light switch or an exit.
"Guys," Peter hisses, "I think we're being followed."
You don't have time to respond before you hear him screaming until it fades away. Tony and Clint break off from the group to try and track him down, leaving you with Natasha.
"They can just haul us away like that?"
"Yep, we signed a waiver," you reply, still feeling out for anything to get you out of there. Your fingers find a door knob and turn it, leading you both into a gruesome meat locker scene. There's no doors, only a tunnel in the wall for you to crawl through. You notice a large shadow in the corner of your eye and watch as it comes barreling towards you both.
"Get ready to get on your knees, Romanoff!" you grab her hand and head straight for the tunnel, letting her go in first. She starts crawling until she hears you scream, catching your form being quickly pulled away.
"Shit," Natasha mutters as she gets to her feet. She's alone now, walking down a seemingly empty hallway until a monster jumps out at her. She shudders, taking a deep breath before pushing through to a morgue.
Chills zip through her spine as she makes her way through the room, she's almost to the exit when one of the drawers open and you jump out of it screaming.
"What the fuck!" she screams, stumbling backwards.
"Did I scare you?"
"Asshole!" she punches you hard and you double over in laughter.
"Worth it," you say, rubbing your arm.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Natasha growls, pulling you towards the exit.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Romanoff."
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weremagnus · a day ago
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Some of the drawings for donors as part of my fundraising efforts toward Extra Life this year! I still have 11 slots available if you'd like to donate and get a drawing for yourself too. If you're interested in donating, please visit:
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thatwasntaquestion · 2 days ago
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Elsie May Carson (née Hughes; b.1862) is the head housekeeper and she is in charge of all the female servants. More or less, she runs the entire servant branch of Downton Abbey. She is very stoic, but is also ethical and never two-sided. She is moral and decent and a kind woman. (X)
Happy Phyllis Friday!! Let me know if you love her ;)
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starkerhead · 20 hours ago
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A Lil’ Bit of Sugar
fill for @spooky-starker-week Bingo 2021: Trick or Treat Summary: “Peter, I dare you to go trick or treating at one of those pompous assholes’ mansions.”  Content: Starker, fluff Word Count: 1.2K Read on AO3 ♡: @momothequeen134 @winterthal @sarcastich @lemonpeter @bluestarker @babybatscreationsv2 @90minsofscreentime 
“Aren’t you guys a little old to be trick or treating?”
“It’s called ‘rebelling against social norms’,” MJ explained. “We’re protesting against the notion that childhood ends at the cusp of teenagehood, which punishes teens for indulging in any kind of innocent fun.” 
The man at the doorstep stared at her incredulously, then glanced at Ned and Peter, who were behind her. All three were clad in costume, holding pumpkin-shaped candy buckets like they were five and not fifteen. 
“Uhh, yeah, you’re not getting any candy from me. Find another house to raid.”
MJ flinched as the man slammed the door in her face. 
“What’s his deal?” she said in her usual deadpan voice.
They got back onto the pavement, continuing along the row of decorated townhouses. Cheers and laughter pierced the air as children ran in the streets. The Halloween decorations along the houses illuminated the darkness, the orange and white lights twinkling in their periphery. 
“We still had a good run,” Ned piped up, shaking his bucket which rattled with a good handful of mini candy bars. “Some of them were too polite to refuse.” 
MJ shook her head.
“Not good enough. We gotta go big, my dude. I’m not going home without a full bucket.” 
Peter was quiet as MJ and Ned continued to discuss their candy strategies. He examined the decorations of each house they passed by, taking note of the tacky displays and the ones he actually liked. One house had some particularly good-looking jack-o-lanterns, which he silently praised. It was nice to just bask in the moment, listening to his friends chattering while walking around town in a Spiderman costume. He felt like a kid again. 
As they turned a corner onto the next street, Peter yelped when he walked right into Ned. He was about to tell him off for stopping abruptly when he looked up and gaped at the sight in front of him: a long row of mansions, covered in the most extravagant decorations possible. Houses covered in neon lights and cobwebs, their yards filled with zombies and skeletons. Mechanical screams and cackles echoed in the distance. 
“Howard Beach,” MJ muttered. “Rich people territory.” 
There was silence as they took in the spectacle. A group of kids approached a coffin on one of the lawns, shrieking as an automated corpse burst from inside. 
“Well, you wanted the big guns, right?” Peter said. “Here’s your chance. I’m sure some of them could spare some full-size candy bars.”
MJ snorted. “Peter, I dare you to go trick or treating at one of those pompous assholes’ mansions.” 
“Maybe I will.”
“I’m serious, you know. I will hold you accountable.”
“And I am, too. Just pick a house and I’ll do it.” 
MJ surveyed the houses in front of them, contemplating for a moment. 
“That one.” She pointed towards the distance at the largest, most expensive-looking mansion on the street. 
Peter raised his eyebrows. 
“The only house that’s not decorated?” 
MJ nodded, her gaze taunting him. 
Maybe it was the superhero costume that gave him the courage, because before he knew what he was doing, Peter started towards the house. 
He didn’t realize how hard his heart was thumping until he stopped at the entrance. Through the gate, the edifice towered above him, and he suddenly found himself wanting to back away. It was a beautiful piece of architecture, with a double staircase leading up to the door and a goddamn fountain in the garden. 
How do people just live like this?
He sucked in a breath and buzzed the gate. Ned and MJ giggled behind him, adding to his nerves. 
To Peter’s surprise, the light of the buzzer turned green and the gate slid open. Peter looked back and flashed a grin of triumph at his friends, whose mouths were wide open. 
“See? I told you I could do it.” 
As he walked up the steps, a man appeared at the front door. Peter’s fingers trembled, and he thought of turning back, but MJ and Ned were watching him. 
And then he was standing at the doorstep, staring up at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. 
The man leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He looked to be in his fifties, his dark beard speckled with gray. He peered at him over his glasses, his piercing brown eyes making Peter want to shrink away. 
“What is it?” The man said, his tone firm. 
Peter’s mouth was suddenly dry. His grip on his pumpkin bucket tightened, making him recall what he was doing there in the first place.
“Uhh, trick or treat?”
The man cocked an eyebrow, and Peter swore a smirk was tugging at his lips. 
“Seriously?” his voice was amused. Peter could feel his cheeks heating up.
“I’m being very serious, sir.” 
The man stepped away, and for a split second Peter thought he was going to shut the door in his face. 
But he disappeared inside his house for several minutes, the front door still wide open. Was it an invitation for him to step inside? No, he probably shouldn’t go inside a stranger’s house. But what if he was being rude? 
Peter snapped back to reality when the man reappeared in front of him. His eyes widened at the sight of what the man had in his hands: a pile of full-size candy bars, and not just the common Hershey's bars either, but the expensive stuff, the fair-trade, luxury brand chocolates filled with caramel and ganache and everything else that Peter never dared to reach for on the shelves. The man dumped them into Peter’s pumpkin bucket, weighing it down with the sheer heft of the chocolates. 
“I scavenged what I could from the house. You can probably tell I don’t usually get trick or treaters, so it’s what I have on hand.”
Peter cleared his throat, his gaze wavering as he struggled to process what was happening. 
“N-no, yeah, it’s- it’s good. This is- this is amazing, actually. Thank you.”
He looked up to see the man smiling at him. Peter suddenly felt naked.
“Say hi to your friends for me.”
Peter turned to find the pair half-concealed behind a bush. They ducked their heads when they realized the man was looking at them, making Peter laugh. 
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Sorry for bothering you. It was- it was just a stupid dare. We don’t usually, you know, knock on rich people’s doors.”
Tony chuckled. 
“It’s alright, kid. Happy Halloween.” 
“You too, sir! Thank- thank you. So much.” 
Peter’s feet were wobbling as he descended the steps back to where his friends were waiting for him. 
“Dude, your face is bright red,” MJ said.
Peter ducked his head down, ignoring the comment as he showed his bucket to them. 
“Woah. I thought rich people were stingy,” Ned said.
“Apparently this one isn’t.” 
“Well, Peter, I have to say I underestimated you,” MJ said. “You’re clearly a master of seduction.”
“Shut up,” Peter said, turning away to hide the smile growing on his face. 
As they made their way back, MJ and Ned were once again locked in a heated discussion, while Peter hung back behind them. He kept his eyes on his feet, lost in thought as his brain kept wandering back to the mysteriously generous stranger with the sparkling brown eyes. 
He looked down at his bucket, his fingers ghosting over the bars of chocolate, the ones that had just been in the man’s hands moments ago. 
He wondered if he would ever see him again. 
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gendercloud · 20 hours ago
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[ID: A screenshot of a tumblr direct message from @hal-your-pal that says: "Can I kiss you?" + Zukka (smiling emoji)" End ID]
On his bed, surrounded by a sea of tissues and several warm blankets, Sokka slips in and out of consciousness.
He should be sweating and kicking the covers off, but he's shivering, unable to draw the blankets close enough. A comforting weight beneath his neck reminds him that he's using Zuko's lap as a pillow.
Sokka groans and rubs his eyes with his palm, knowing it won't alleviate the pressure elevating in his head. Sokka's shaking arms disappear beneath the blankets again as he finally opens his eyes.
He wonders how long Zuko's been watching him with his unmoving hand over Sokka's heart, monitoring his heartbeat, keeping close watch.
Though his face hurts, Sokka smiles at him weakly. "Hey, you," he murmurs, voice husky and worn.
"Hi," Zuko whispers, and slides his hand from Sokka's chest to his jaw. Careful fingertips feather along his jawbone, and Sokka's shivering harder. "Still feeling bad?" Zuko asks, though Sokka knows he's aware of the answer.
Sokka nods miserably. Zuko leans forward press a slow kiss into Sokka's forehead, then touches it with his own for a moment. When he sits up, he sadly confirms, "You're still burning up."
Sokka manages a half-smile and hoarsely whispers, "Feel like shit," in affirmation.
Zuko shakes his head and covers Sokka's cheek with his palm. "My poor baby," he anguishes. Zuko's voice is so tender, it has Sokka's heart beating too quickly, so he averts his gaze by turning his head to the side and resting his cheek against Zuko's thigh.
Sokka winces at the position change— maybe looking sideways isn't such a good idea. After a few heavy blinks, he turns his head back to Zuko, but keeps his eyes turned downward.
"Hey," Zuko whispers, guiding Sokka's gaze up. "Can I kiss you?" he asks with a quiet sort of wonder, as if Sokka granting his request will repair every wrong in the world.
Sokka shakes his head, inciting another wave of nasuea. "I'm sick," he croaks in protest, but Zuko's expression doesn't change.
"I know," he says immediately. Then, hardly above a whisper, "Can I kiss you anyway?"
Sokka’s attempt to disguise his smile is poor. "You're stupid, you know that?" Sokka asks, and when Zuko laughs, he maintains, “Seriously. Only a complete idiot would kiss someone knowing they’ll probably make them sick.”
Zuko shakes his head and smirks mercilessly. “Then I guess I’m a complete idiot,” he shrugs. His thumb glides along Sokka’s forehead to his cheekbone, then across the bump of his nose. It lands on Sokka’s chin and stays there.
Even though he’s sick, Sokka manages to bolster a flirtatious look. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Sokka teases, earning an eye roll.
Ignoring him, Zuko asks, "So, can I?" while prodding Sokka's lower lip. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, then repeats, “Can I?” several more times, reminding Sokka of a petulant child.
After shooing Zuko's incessant finger away, Sokka grumbles, "Why are you even asking?" He shuts his eyes and puts on a satirically withered voice, "I'm too deathly ill to stop you."
“Hey,” Zuko says, suddenly stern. Sokka peeks his eyes open and to Zuko’s serious expression. “I’d never kiss you if you didn’t want me to.”
Sokka heaves a fond sigh. He insists, “I always want you—” but it’s cut short by a hacking cough.
In order to breathe easier, Sokka begrudgingly sits up from Zuko’s lap to cough into his arm. Zuko pats his back a couple times as Sokka fights through the worst of it, and when his breathing finally levels into ragged wheezes, Zuko’s arms circle his shoulders.
Zuko pouts at him, then nuzzles his forehead against Sokka’s cheek. “I’m sorry, sunshine,” he whispers, nearly sending Sokka into another coughing fit. Sokka leans into the touch and reaches around to ruffle his fingers through a mass of messy hair.
“Don’t be,” Sokka rasps, then giggles at the unexpected sensation of Zuko’s lips on his neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks as Zuko trails kisses all the way to the corner of his jaw.
“I just think,” Zuko whispers near Sokka’s ear, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, “if we’ve already been breathing in the same air, I’m bound to catch it anyway.”
As Sokka breathes a gentle laugh, his fingers travel the short distance from Zuko’s hair to his cheek to cradle it tenderly in his palm. Zuko asks, “What’s the harm in a little kiss?” intentionally brushing his lips against Sokka’s ear as he does.
When Sokka turns to properly face Zuko, his arms fall to Sokka’s waist. “Maybe you’re not that stupid,” he observes.
Zuko seems like he's about to say something, but stops himself and puts on a pout instead. "Are you telling me you wouldn't kiss me if I was sick?" he asks, feigning disappointment.
Sokka's answer of, "No," is instant and honest. "But I already know I'm an idiot," he adds.
Before Zuko can do more than scoff, Sokka kisses him.
Zuko's holding his head firmly in place, and Sokka keeps his eyes open partially to ward off any further dizziness, but mostly to watch the protective, concentrated look on Zuko's face. The kiss is short-lived, then Sokka's hugging his ribcage with his hot face buried in his neck.
Zuko relaxes them both onto the pillows, and though Sokka's body half on top of him and the excessive amount of blankets is probably uncomfortable, Zuko doesn't say a word. He just releases Sokka's hair from its hold to brush through the locks still damp from a last effort bath he took hours before.
Sokka's eyes drift closed when Zuko's fingers begin pressing lightly into his scalp. They're silent for so long, it almost startles him when Zuko proclaims, "You're not an idiot, you know," in a sudden, annoyed tone, like he just remembered Sokka said that.
Sokka's nose scrunches up and he's breathing a laugh into Zuko's neck. "For you I am," he replies, and uses all his strength to tighten his grip around Zuko.
Zuko takes his lead and releases Sokka's hair to draw him closer around his shoulders. Sokka isn't sure which of them tangles their legs together first, but everything feels right, somehow (though he could do without the incapacitating illness).
"Go to sleep," Zuko murmurs at some point when Sokka is still awake. Sokka mumbles an agreement. "I love you, stupid," he whispers, and it drags a final, groggy laugh from Sokka.
Without opening his eyes, Sokka plants a grateful kiss on Zuko's jaw, then resumes his resting place once more. "Love you, too, baby," he says, punctuated by a yawn.
As sleep inches over him, Sokka listens to Zuko's even breathing contrasting his own shallow, whistling breaths. For a moment, Sokka no longer feels pain, only Zuko, shrouded around him like honeyed sunlight.
Sokka wonders if maybe he'll feel better when he wakes. His final coherent thought before falling into a fever dream is a vow: If Zuko does get sick, I'll be the dumbass right by his side, ready to do it all over again.
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megachiraztfs · 23 hours ago
Twice the thunder
After almost two years, the time had finally come - Cory and Tanner, two students living together in a shared flat, had received their first invitation to a Halloween party at university. Unfortunately, only three days before.
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"You realise this is the perfect opportunity to socialise? Oh, I'm so excited!", Cory gloated, already feverishly thinking about what costumes they would get. They were going to go together. Tanner's girlfriend was doing a semester abroad in Australia and didn't want to fly back for just one day. They did almost everything together. Yet it hadn't looked that way at the beginning. Tanner was far more reserved than the fun-loving Cory, who loved to go to parties. Nevertheless, the two had one thing in common: they hardly knew anyone except those in their classes.
Tanner, on the other hand, read the invitation again and sighed softly. "If we can even get costumes. The party is the day after tomorrow, remember? I'm sure the shops will be completely empty." Not that he particularly minded, he was just going with Cory because it was so much fun to watch him enjoy himself.
However, Cory waved his hand in front of Tanner's face and snatched up the invitation. "We'll stop by the mall tomorrow after lunch; the shops are closed now anyway. We can start thinking about what we're going to dress up as. I'd like to do something spectacular. Spiderman or something. Or that one king from France. The one with the sun," he said and Tanner rolled his eyes. Cory loved superheroes and on his wall, there were various posters of individual heroes from all those films of the last few years. He had given up wanting to watch it all again. With all the series that were now added on a seemingly daily basis, it was too confusing for him.
"Okay, if you say so," Tanner said with a shrug and pulled out his phone to check his emails. He was still waiting for confirmation on one of his classes. Cory, meanwhile, was searching for all sorts of costume ideas on Pinterest and was already on fire. Sometime around midnight, they both went to bed, tomorrow they had classes again and then they would have to look for costumes.
The next day, the day before Halloween, the two men went to the nearby shopping centre. There was a shop where you could buy costumes all year round. Cory liked going there. Maybe also because he had a thing for one of the employees. Even though he was completely out of his league and already had a boyfriend who had visited him in the shop before. Nevertheless, enjoying the view a bit never hurt anyone. At most, it hurt Cory's heart a little.
They got another milkshake and then marched towards the shop, only to be completely surprised to find themselves standing in front of effectively empty shelves and tables. "Shit, I've never seen this before. They've got to be fucking kidding me!" said Cory, completely stunned. Tanner peered into the shop through the glass windows, but nothing was visible except for the empty shelves. But then a door opened and two men came out of the backroom.
"Look, there's someone in there, shall we ask him? Otherwise, we'll have to look online," Tanner suggested to his friend and held the door open for him. Cory darted right in and approached the two men about the vacancy. One was the one Cory was ogling whenever he was here, the other must be his boss. Both were in good spirits and chatting happily.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt, could you tell me, are you completely sold out? Otherwise, there were always a few things left, weren't there?" he asked cautiously, pointing at the empty shelves.
"Not this year, a big company bought it all up. Big business, sorry for you and goodbye," the older man replied and pushed Cory and Tanner out of the shop and then locked the door. Puzzled, they stood there while the man inside began to prance.
"Well, I guess we won’t get anything from here, shall we go and see if we can find anything else online right now? You do have Prime, don't you?", Tanner stated matter-of-factly and pulled out his phone. In the Amazon app, he typed in 'Halloween costumes' and sure enough, there were quite a few things. "Look, here's a Spiderman spandex costume and it's only $10!" He held out the phone to his buddy, whose disappointed expression turned into a grin, but then he looked disappointed again.
"Yeah, but it won't arrive until tomorrow because it's coming from somewhere in Asia. It's all crap, we have to find some costume," Cory whined, scrolling on. "Ugly, too expensive, only made on request, takes a week, takes three weeks, takes four months, what the fuck?! Oh, come on, we'll buy two white sheets now and go as ghosts. Does my bank account a world of good anyway," he said resignedly and handed the phone back to Tanner. However, before Tanner could say that he would rather stay at home, the shop door opened and the younger of the two men came out with a package.
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It was white, quite thick and about the size of a normal laptop. "Hey, you two - look, I just found this. It definitely has dress-up stuff in it, do you want it? My boss was going to throw it away, so it'd be free," the man asked, holding it out to the two. Tanner could see Cory's expression brighten considerably. Without much hesitation, he grabbed the package and showered the other with thanks.
"No worries, have fun at the party, maybe we'll see each other - my boyfriend, George, is studying with you, if I'm not mistaken. See you!" With these words, he said goodbye and locked the door again. While Tanner was still wondering which of the four men who studied with them and called George was the one he meant, Cory could hardly restrain himself from tearing open the package on the spot. Right now, he didn't care that his crush had mentioned his boyfriend again, they had gotten costumes and for free too!
Cory grabbed Tanner by the arm just as he was about to answer his friend and pulled him along. Full of energy, as always, when things were going his way. "Now come on, I want to look at this stuff and try it on," Cory cheered and Tanner let himself be pulled along, grinning and shaking his head. There was no point in resisting. "I'm coming, calm down; we still have to go to our afternoon class anyway. And no, we're not playing hooky to try on any costumes."
Of course, the lecturer took longer to complete the lesson and they arrived back at their dormitory an hour later than they thought. Cory simply threw his jacket, shoes and bag in front of his bed and tore open the wrapped package. Two brightly printed pieces of fabric fell onto the cheap wooden floor in their dorm room. There was silence for a moment.
Tanner squatted down and took the clothes off the floor to spread them out a bit. There were two identical T-shirts with some kind of armour printed on them. A simple, flat print. A simple, cheap t-shirt that little kids often wore when they thought a superhero was awesome.
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"Well, at least it was free," Tanner commented on the situation, while Cory was still staring at the two, plastic-smelling shirts. Tanner could literally feel his mate's disappointment physically. "Oh come on, it... could have been worse if it had been... um... a werewolf costume, right? Who is that supposed to represent anyway?" he asked, trying to cheer the other up a bit. Cory was very afraid of werewolves because he had accidentally seen a horror film as a child and had lived very close to a dark forest.
"This tired knock-off of a damn costume is supposed to be Thor’s armour. Those are those plates, that's where the red cape is supposed to be," Cory explained very unmotivated and then flopped back onto his bed. He rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Surely we can't show up with that, what are the others supposed to think of us? That we are total failures? We won't be invited next year for sure then. Fuck!", Cory complained. Tanner could understand him a little. It didn't look great.
"Come on, let's try it on. If it fits, it might be a good sleep shirt," Tanner suggested, taking one of the shirts. The other he held out to Cory, who scowled and accepted it. They both took off their tops and pulled the T-shirt over their heads. It was too loose for both of them and hung loosely around their slim bodies. It didn't even look that good. But it was comfortable. So using it as a sleep shirt was not out of the question.
But as they faced each other, Tanner began to feel a little funny. His back hurt a little as if he had been sitting at a desk all day. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as it really hurt for a moment. So he didn't even notice what Cory could see. Right before Cory’s eyes, Tanner was getting bigger. Little by little, his figure stretched more towards the ceiling until he was almost as tall as the door. Cory could hardly believe his eyes and swallowed dryly. So tall... he liked tall men…
"Ta-tanner, you... open your eyes," Cory said shakily, his head now level with his mate's chest. They were neither of them particularly tall. But Tanner only shook his head. At the same time, however, he felt a strange tingling in his face and on his scalp. What had just been short, light brown hair was getting lighter and longer until Cory had a mop of blond, long hair that reached a little beneath his neck until the tips touched his upper back. Stunned, he twisted a strand between his fingers as his face began to itch. Thick blond hair sprouted from his smooth skin and covered more and more of his chin until he could call a thick short beard his own. "What... what... I have a beard... and I'm blonde... oh my god," Cory gasped, stroking the hair on his face. That felt great. Scrub. Scrub. Plus the unfamiliar weight of the hair on his head.
Only now did Tanner open his eyes again, the dizziness and pain was gone. But he almost lost his balance and was startled to see his buddy suddenly with long and especially blond hair and a beard. "Woah, where did you get that wig? And why are you so short all of a sudden?!" Tanner asked and was about to pull Cory's hair when the same happened to his. The stubble on Tanner's face brightened and the gaps closed as the exact same beard appeared on his face and his dark brown hair grew longer and lighter.
"Oh my God, Tanner, you look like... Thor," Cory gasped, unable to deny how good this change looked on his mate. A little too good already, if he was honest. But there was still something missing for this look to be complete. But before he could imagine what Tanner looked like with the tight outfit full of muscles, he shot up himself until he was as tall as the other. He swayed.
"We have to get rid of these shirts, I don't want to look like that idiot with his stupid long hair, we... ungh," Tanner said a little panicked – what would only his girlfriend say when she got home? How was he going to explain this to anyone? But at that moment, a tremor went through both their bodies. Their long, thin limbs began to fill with mass. Muscles pressed against their skin, developing like crazy beneath it, showing under their shirts, which by now were like a second skin.
While their hips remained about the same, their shoulders became broader and broader. Almost synchronously, their bodies widened. Pectorals rose from their flat chests until the shirts could no longer withstand the growing muscle mass of their upper bodies. With a loud ripping sound, they tore in two at the front, exposing their muscular torsos. Small tears appeared on their arms as well, their biceps taking on amazing sizes as vessels snaked along under their skin like little rivers of pure power.
"Fuck," they both gasped as the uncomfortable feeling of pressure coursing through their bodies came to a momentary halt. They stared at each other. From the waist up, they looked like a superhero, with defined abs, powerful pectorals and a broad back. Then all at once, their eyes met. They looked at each other in a different way, more intensely. The sight blew Cory away. He had watched all the Thor movies and almost missed out on the action. Tanner looked so hot. So strong. Almost divine.
"You... look.... good. Can... can I touch..?" he asked, and he had to clear his throat as his voice deepened. He took a step towards his mate. He couldn't get enough of it. He wanted to touch this beauty. At the same time, another thought arose in his mind. That he was just as good looking after all. He raised a hand to his own chest and stroked it.
Tanner, on the other hand, noticed how fascinated he was by his mate's beard. It looked very good on him. He wondered what it felt like on his own skin. He nodded without thinking about it when Cory asked him. For a brief moment, he lost himself in the ridges of the other's torso and came closer to him as well. "Sure... your beard... suits you... and the long hair," he breathed, already raising his hand, only to hesitate a few inches before. "No, no, no, what am I doing here? I can't... I'm not..." he stammered, but then he felt Cory's hand on his muscular chest. Saw his mate getting closer and closer to him. Saw the lips surrounded by a beard. He cleared his throat and in a deeper voice that sounded the same now as Cory's, spoke again.
"Come closer… stud," he said softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. Cory kept stroking his own chest, now also making circular motions on Tanner's. Then he touched the latter's nipples. Tanner couldn't help himself. He moaned. He had never felt anything like it. So intense. They were only a few inches apart now. Cory groaned as he touched his own nipple. Then their mouths were on each other. Their hands were everywhere as they kissed. They moaned into the kiss as their beards rubbed together. Unnoticed, their faces changed. They lost a few years, their eyes turned blue, their faces became more angular until they looked exactly the same.
A sudden feeling of heat pervaded their bodies as the changes spread to the lower halves of their bodies. They had to separate and gasp for air as their crotches tightened.
From behind, growing muscles pressed against the waistband of their trousers, but from the front, something else lusted for freedom, something that could not be ignored. However, for the moment they could do nothing at all as something else happened on their bodies. Thick blonde hair now sprouted in numbers on their chests. Their armpits filled with hair and suddenly there was something in the air. Something their dorm room had never experienced since they moved in. A musky, masculine scent settled around them and befuddled their senses even more.
"You smell good...real...horny...ungh...," Cory said, sliding his one hand over the thick carpet of hair on Tanner's chest. His cock could barely contain itself by now. "You too...I want...I need...," Tanner gasped, oblivious to everything around him. Cravings rose in him that no longer had anything to do with his girlfriend. Why did he have a girlfriend? Did he have one? That couldn't be if he was sharing a room with this man. He took a deep breath and felt the smell trigger something inside him, making his trousers even tighter until he couldn't stand it anymore.
He dropped to his knees and yanked Cory's pants down as his own slowly fell to the floor in shreds. Shaking, his skinny legs that had fit into any pair of skinny jeans became respectable thighs that looked more like watermelons than legs. In front of him, Cory's penis rose into the air. Tanner licked his lips. With his hand he clasped his own. He had no idea why he wanted it so badly, but he opened his mouth wide and greedily took Cory's cock inside.
Cory moaned loudly and began to move slowly as Tanner's tongue danced over his length. The hair that had grown on both their chests was now moving further south. Between thrusting movements, their crotches filled with blonde hair that gave off the same musky scent. Their cracks, tight due to the round muscles in their butts, filled as well.
"Oh God, yes, that's just right," Cory gasped and from Tanner only came a muffled moan as Cory's thighs expanded and blonde hair covered them. In Tanner's mouth, Cory's penis grew longer and wider, and Tanner felt something change in him too. Their balls swelled, hanging lower, filling with seed that was no longer their own. It was the seed of a god.
These words echoed in their minds.
You are a god.
Tanner broke away from Cory and stood up again. Heavily breathing, slightly sweaty.
You are the sexiest god alive.
They were both breathing heavily, their cocks hard and rubbing against each other as they kissed again.
You are Thor. Repeat after me. We are Thor.
They separated and looked at each other with desire. They looked at their hairy torsos, at their bulging biceps, at their thick beards, their hard pecs, their muscular thighs, their big balls just waiting to fire their divine loads.
"We are Thor. We are Thor," the two said in unison, in the same voice, and dropped to the floor. Cory lay down on top of Tanner until he reached his penis. Devotedly, he licked over it and took it into his mouth. Tanner resumed his work from before.
In their minds, these words echoed without a break.
We are Thor. We are Thor. WE ARE THOR!
They were Thor. Nothing else. They were a god. They were hot, adored, horny and full of lust. And as they lay on top of each other on the floor, all the pressure that had built up inside them was released and they came into each other's mouths, filling them with divine seed. No sooner had it wetted their throats than the last memories of their identities, Tanner and Cory, disappeared from their minds. They were Thor. Nothing else. They did nothing but party and fuck each other and other people.
Panting and sweaty, they let go of each other. The Thor on top turned around and began to lick across the other's chest. They were irresistible.
"Now we can go to the party, Thor, we have mortals to impress," gasped the Thor on the bottom, pulling the other up to give him a passionate kiss. How they loved it when their beards touched. How their muscular, hard chests rested on each other's as they filled the room with their musky scent and how they filled their bodies with divine seed.
No sooner had these words faded than a tight-fitting armour wrapped itself around both their bodies. Both were identical, just like themselves. They pulled themselves up and kissed again. They could already feel life returning to their crotches. But they would have enough spare time later. Maybe even with another person. They both grabbed their hammers and disappeared in a flash. They were Thor. And Thor would light up this Halloween party with his double presence.
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tinysupervicki · a day ago
Out of curiosity, how did Jaemin and Poppi meet?
Ah! I can finally answer this! I wanted to write it and draw some scenes but life got ahead of me. I’m in the processing of packing/decluttering because I move in a month and a half as well as buried deep in grad school homework that I’m hardly getting time to myself. But no worries! I got some!
So how did Jaemin and Poppi meet? It’s a wild story actually. So Poppi comes from a small village of flower fairies that live on the outskirts of a Houston suburb in a lively forest. The village has lived there for centuries until deforestation destroys it.
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Poppi lived there with her bisabuela and her younger sister Tula. Her parents disappeared after Tula was born, leaving Poppi to take care of her while bisabuela helped raised them both. On Tula’s 12th birthday, Poppi left the village to search for berries as a birthday present.
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After being gone for hours, she came back to her village completely wiped out. Under some rumble, she was able to find Tula’s body, clutching on to her hand in sorrow. Before she can bury her and the others, she heard loud noises coming towards her. In panic, Poppi quickly kissed Tula’s hand and flew away. Through tears and grief, Poppi fled as fast as she could, which unforgivably led her close to the human town.
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She luckily found a patch of wild poppies and hid there. She then slept for 15 days due to exhaustion and grief.
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After waking up, Poppi searched her surroundings only to lock eyes with Jaemin, who was outside having a smoke break. It was a serendipitous that they met right when she woke up and he took a smoke break.
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Poppi heard all the stories of humans, especially seeing firsthand of what they did to her village. She looked at him, leaning back down in fright and shaking. Jaemin’s expressions doesn’t change, he continues to stare at her and finish his smoke. After he was done, he throws away his cigarette butt in a garbage bin and then walked to the smaller building’s front door he was leaning on (Jaemin’s greenhouse). He opens the door and keeps it wide open, turning back to catch Poppi’s gaze. He nods at her and then turns back to go inside the bigger building. Poppi, alone and hesitant, she gathered the courage to fly into the open door. She was suddenly taken back of how beautiful it was inside; different plants and flowers strewn about, lively with green and color. She noticed a mini pond/stream, relieved to get some water to drink and wash her face. While washing her face, she flinched in surprised when she heard a whistle. It was Jaemin. He put a hand up to show he wouldn’t do anything. Poppi nodded, with Jaemin’s shoulders relaxing as she consents. He places a small bowl of food, a small cup of fresh water, and a clean, fluffy hand towel near the door so she wouldn’t be too startled of him coming closer. He nods at her and heads out again, leaving the door wide open still as to show she can leave any time. Poppi was stunned but grabbed the towel, burying her face crying from his kindness and the grief.
Hours pass since Jaemin visited, however Poppi stayed and was resting at the pond, nibbling on the food. She perks up she she hears Jaemin enter, he bows slightly to her when lock eyes. They stare at each other in silence for some time until Poppi got up and flew towards him. In a meek voice, she said, “T-thank you.”
For the first time since they met, Jaemin’s eyes soften and he smiled a bit. “So she can speak. It’s no problem, you’re welcome here.”
Poppi’s eyes welled up and she couldn’t talk anymore without sobbing. Jaemin quietly soothed her, asking her if it was okay for him to touch her. She nodded and he gently reached towards her, his finger softly wiping away her tears. After some time, Poppi curled up next to Jaemin’s neck and shoulder, with Poppi talking about her life and what brought her here.
Their relationship blossomed from there! Poppi began to trust Jaemin wholeheartedly and they bonded very quickly. Before he builds a bed or any furniture for her, Poppi slept with Jaemin (she still does at times, especially when she would have nightmares again). He lives on the second floor of the building, with the 1st floor being his tattoo shop Bom Flower Tattoo that he co-owns with his brother Jaewoo. Jaewoo lives with Jaemin too, so she had to warm up to him as well. Jaewoo opened her with warm arms, treating her like a little “little” sister lol. Her bubbly personality comes back after some time with healing emotionally by living with Jaemin. She enjoys living with Jaemin and Jaewoo, even though it was quite an adjustment. She eventually warmed up to the rest of the tattoo shop employees which are Daisuke, Jonas, Illiana, and Jess.
Hope you enjoy this! I’m not the best writer but I try to make up for it with my art lol
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sk-mumu · a day ago
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testing out new brushes!! also dante and ifrit
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leaveyourego · a day ago
Rough draft
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(test slide, non functional)
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le-pokerus · 2 days ago
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- Standard Pattern -
#01 Standard
#02 Skelly
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ghostyfacey · 18 hours ago
Couches and Cuddles
AN: Pulled a few prompts from a list and this is the end result, I definitely struggled on this one. Thank you for reading, all mistakes are mine.
Pairings: Yelena Belova x reader
Warnings: probably some cursing
You and Yelena burst through the doors of the motel you're supposed to meet Natasha at--soaked from the rain that was pounding down on you just a few moments earlier.
It's small and cozy, with a fireplace twinkling in the corner surrounded by rustic wooden furniture and a few assorted animal heads mounted on the walls.
"Cute," Yelena grumbles, you give her a look before heading up to the front desk to get checked in.
"We don't have a guest room, sorry--just booked the last one an hour ago," the woman at the front desk says, you ignore Yelena's muttering behind you and keep a smile plastered to your face.
"Is there any place nearby that can accommodate us?"
"Afraid not, unless you're wanting to brave the storm for another hour west of here," she gives you a tight lipped smile and your shoulders drop in defeat.
"We do have a recliner couch, however!" she pipes up again and Yelena cranes her head and furrows her brows so close together that her worry wrinkles have their own worry wrinkles.
"You're joking," Yelena says lowly.
"We'll take it," you pat the desk a few times before turning to Yelena with wide eyes and a dry smile--your infamous "try me" look. Yelena surrenders with a grunt and you turn back, satisfied when the woman hands you a key.
"It's in the lounge, nobody really goes in there but here's a key to keep some degree of privacy," the woman steps out from behind the desk and leads you both down a short hallway and into the lounge. It looks similar to the lobby, the couch is big enough to fit you both but not enough to avoid any of your limbs from rubbing together at some point.
"I'll sleep in the chair," Yelena sounds more than annoyed as she tosses her bag over towards the small leather chair. She slumps across the arms of it and you snort at how stubborn she's being.
"Your neck is going to hate you tomorrow, just share the couch with me."
"My neck has endured worse things."
"Come on, Belova, I don't bite," you tease, hopping onto the couch and patting the open space next to you.
"I would rather sleep on a bed of hot coal than share close quarters with you."
"Now you're just being mean," you pretend to pout and she rolls her eyes.
"One night isn't going to kill you," you sit up, tilting your head in disbelief.
"It just might," she mutters under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing...nothing," she stares you down, not daring to move a muscle.
"Right, well--I'm going to change and get ready for bed--you can sit there and rethink your choices. You're welcome to join me when you realize how ridiculous you're being," you slide off the couch and leave the room. Yelena still doesn't move, the mere thought of being so close to another body outside of the context of combat is paralyzing every fiber of her being.
Yelena is no stranger to touch, at least with Natasha. She's used to sisterly love like hugs and the occasional kiss to her scalp. The issue is when anyone other than her sister is affectionate or stupidly decides to invade her personal space. It's foreign, setting off alarm bells in every corner of her brain without fail.
You return in a long sleeve and a pair of sleep shorts, sliding under the covers and pulling out the book you've been working on during your limited downtime on this mission.
Yelena watches you for a few moments, you look so relaxed...and the couch looks really comfy--at the very least a lot more comfortable than the chair she's crammed in.
"I'll be back," she says, prying herself off the chair and grabbing her pajamas.
"I'll be here," you give her a warm smile and she can't help but smile back.
When Yelena comes back, you're still reading, obviously captivated by the book in your hands. She takes a deep breath and starts to ease down onto the empty side of the couch, willing every muscle in her body to relax.
"I see you’ve realized the error of your ways," you don't look at Yelena, eyes still tracking the story between your fingers.
"That chair is a torture device and I refuse to suffer in it while you sleep comfortably," Yelena grumbles.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lena."
"I'm serious!"
"Uh-huh, sure," your teasing continues and Yelena can feel heat pricking at her cheeks.
"Why are you even here? Natasha and I could have handled this mission ourselves."
"Because you both need a handler, plus, we make a great team."
"Debatable, I'd rather get stuck with the roided-out Robin Hood at this point."
"You like me too much to do that to yourself."
"I do not like you, I just tolerate you."
"Keep telling yourself that, Belova. Maybe some day you'll actually believe it," you say with a wink and Yelena almost chokes on her spit. You turn off the lights and she thanks every deity she can think of for cutting this conversation off before she embarrasses herself.
You both settle into bed and say goodnight, it's not long until you're both pulled under the blanket of exhaustion.
Yelena wakes up a few hours later when she feels something shivering against her front. She takes a quick inventory of her surroundings and realizes that the fire has died out and you're curled up against her, shaking from how cold the room has become.
Yelena's first instinct is to fight, then run. It takes a lot of self-control to keep herself from rolling off the couch or shoving you over the edge. You're not going to hurt her, she knows you wouldn't even dream of it.
"Are you cold?" she asks dumbly, of course you don't answer. Yelena lets out a long sigh and decides to leave you be. She pulls the covers up and tucks it as best as she can around you both. She leaves her arms awkwardly between you two for a few minutes until it starts to get uncomfortable and she throws her arms around you with a huff. She squeezes her eyes shut and doesn't have to wait long before sleep takes her once more.
You're the first to wake up that morning, sunlight creeps into the room as you rub at your eyes with your free hand and take in the blonde that splayed across your body. Her fingers twitching against your exposed stomach makes you laugh softly.
You feel her stir against you and you lay still, letting her sleep for just a little longer before you decide to gently wake her up.
"How did we end up like this?” amusement heavy in your voice. Yelena stretches against your body and her eyes shoot open in horror.
“I think the better question is, how do we get out of this?” Yelena groans, trying to untangle her limbs until you stop her.
“What if we don’t?" you ask smoothly and Yelena's eyes meet yours, searching for anything that tells her that you're joking, just being your usual sarcastic self but failing to find it. Your features are soft and honest, she waits for the alarm bells to ring but they never do. It's peaceful, laying in a heap of tangled limbs with you. Yelena feels herself relax once more and you both lay there, breathing easy while absentmindedly toying with each other's fingers.
Until there's a knock at the door.
"Front desk lady said you'd be in here," Natasha is leaning against the doorway, surveying the room. She notices that there's only one thing that remotely resembles a bed and she laughs, strolling into the room to sit down on the couch.
"You know you could have just called and told me they were out of rooms. Mine had an extra bed and a couch," Natasha grins.
"I'm actually going to murder you," Yelena growls.
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lanqdn · 2 days ago
Savior, (Michael Langdon) *pt 1*
Summary: Michael finds y/n crying and for some odd reasons feels the need to comfort her.
Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts/intentions. Fluff/Angst.
Pairing: Michael Langdon X Female Reader.
Word count: 1,794.
Notes: My fics do not have a specific height, weight, hair texture, race, skin color etc, I hope you can envision yourself! :) My apologies if there are errors//mistakes, i proof read but my mind is all over the place… the title for this is corny but I didn’t know what else to name it lmao bye.
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Y/n had enough. The same song on repeat, the tasteless gelatin cubes, the stupid Victorian styled clothing, the sound of Venable’s cane clacking through the halls, Miss.Mead’s robotic tone, the fact that the world was gone and she was stuck in an outpost with nothing but fancy rich people. She couldn’t take it anymore, it was an unbearable feeling that had her wishing she was amongst the people who died in the blast. Everyday that went on seemed to just drag, her depression was becoming worse and her will to fight was wearing thin.
She had been holding back tears all day, she didn’t want to cry, especially in front of everyone but she couldn’t hold it in, not anymore. Everyone watched as she jolted from her seat and ran upstairs. She couldn’t even make it to her room before hot tears fell down her face and a cracked sob escaped from her lips. She leaned against the wall as she thought about everyone in her life that once made her feel happy and how they were gone, most likely ashes scattered across this now dead, contaminated planet.
She felt lonely, she was lonely. Only being accompanied by strangers she had learned to live with. She had created some small talk with some of the members every now and then but it was never enough to fill the void in her heart. Gallant and Evie had each other, along wit Andre and his mother. Coco had both Mallory and Gallant even though she didn’t necessarily deserve neither of them and Timothy and Emily created a relationship within the outpost while y/n still spent the days by herself with no one to talk to.
“What’s the matter?” The familiar voice said. Y/n whipped around to face them, she was freighted but grew embarrassed once she seen who the it belonged to, Langdon.
He was a handsome man, intimidating as well, he carried himself with such confidence and always had such a stern attitude. She had never even seen him genuinely smile beside when he’d smirk at how nervous everyone would get in his presence. He was quiet most of the time and didn’t really engage with everyone and even when he did, it always sounded as if it were painful for him to interact with them.
“Oh gosh, forgive me.” She said wiping the wetness off of her cheeks, “I’m just having a moment of weakness. It’s been a bit of a rough day.”
Michael titled his head in confusion, “Why are you apologizing?” He wished to envision y/n as pathetic for not only sobbing in the hallway like some child but for also apologizing when being caught.. but for some reason he felt bad for her, the sight of her red teary eyes and the sounds of her sobs alone made his heart ache.
“I— I don’t know, I guess I’m just ashamed of myself for doing so.” Y/n straightened her posture and shot him a fake smile, she couldn’t help but feel nervous. His bright blue eyes felt like they were literally burning through hers and his voice was scary yet soothing at the same time.
He tried his best to contain his smile, he admired her and how quick she pulled herself together, she was strong. Disgust also seemed to fill his thoughts, why did he feel like this towards her? Should he continue whatever he’s trying to do or stop and leave her here? Ever since he arrived he had an odd liking to y/n and how she carried yourself. Not only was she beautiful but she was caring and loving, something that normally would’ve pushed him away but instead only made him crave her even more.
“Did someone, say something to you?” He questioned, which caught y/n by surprise, she’d never seen him show such concern towards anybody and if someone had said something to her? What would he have done?
“No. It’s not that, I uh— just miss my family dearly. I’m all alone here.”
Michael opened his mouth to speak but y/n spoke before he could, “Can I ask you something?” She took a step closer and Michael found himself already drowning in her energy. Even with the limited amount of products in the outpost, she still smelt like a mixture of roses and vanilla. And the way her hair bounced perfectly which each step she took, or how she would nervously rub her own arm as if she was comforting herself. And how cute he thought it was when she realized she had gotten too close and slowly backed away without even knowing he’d wish she’d come closer.
“Of course.” He replied, finally realizing how lost in her aura he had been.
Y/n waited a second and cleared her throat before saying what she’d been nervous to ask, “Those pills. The ones you said we could take if cannibals attack, you said we’ll fall asleep and never wake up. Is that true?”
Michael sighed, realizing what she was implying. “Yes. Why would you want anything to do with those?”
“I— I want to be one of the ones who stay.” She stuttered, it was unlike her to even ask such a question that she was preparing for but she was getting desperate. “I don’t want to go to the sanctuary Langdon, take someone else who wants and deserves it. I can’t take another day on what’s left of this planet. I hate myself for even asking but may I— have one of those pills?”
Michael furrowed his eyebrows, he understood the heart aching feeling of not wanting to be alive. He’d nearly succeeded with ending his life after the death of his Miss.Mead. And once again, he originally would’ve found this pathetic, maybe even a little funny that someone had asked him such a question with such desperation to end things so easily but with y/n he could see the pain in her eyes. He could feel her sorrow and lack of hope. And although he didn’t know the girl very well yet, he wasn’t going to let her do such a thing.
“You’re the only one out of all of these disgusting people that deserve to be breathing Ms.Y/l/n.”
“Please Langdon,” She cried out, her eyes were glossy from tears along with her lips slightly trembling but even when crying she looked like the most beautiful angel.
This time Michael took a step closer, he placed his hand onto her shoulder not even certain of what for. He just wanted to touch her, to feel her and hopefully comfort her somehow, he wasn’t necessarily good at things like that.
Y/n looked down at his hand then back at him. It was a weird yet welcoming feeling and she was surprised to be receiving it from Langdon. He’d always come off as serious and cold, although that wasn’t enough to judge a person she could see that he wasn’t really sure how to love or at least show it but he was trying and that was all that mattered. Y/n snaked her arm around his shoulder and leaned in to hug him, she hoped it wasn’t too much for him but once she felt him also pulling her closer, welcoming her into his warm embrace she knew it was something he needed.
She moved her arm down enough for him to fully wrap his arms around her entire body and buried her head into his chest while closing her eyes. This was something she needed too, just a hug, just someone to hold her even if it were for a second.
Michael could feel his heart beating fast and could only hope y/n couldn’t hear it. This feeling, it was something far from what he’d ever felt. Yes he may of loved Constance at one point and Miss.Mead but this was a different type of feeling, a feeling he’d never thought he’d ever experience. He let his chin rest on y/n’s head where he could smell the pleasant smell coming from her hair, she felt so little to him in his arms, all he wanted to do was he protect her and find a way to take the unbearable pain she was feeling away.
They had been in that same spot for minutes not even realizing it, it went by like seconds to them before Miss.Mead angrily approached. “What is going on here?”
They both jumped, and y/n pulled herself away from his arms which he had already started to miss. Michael wanted to scold himself for not knowing she was there sooner. Usually he could sense whenever someone was near but being in the vulnerable trance he was just in, nothing else but y/n mattered in that moment, so much to the point where he was distracted. He could sense y/n’s fear as his Miss.Mead approached.
“Mr.Langdon, I am sure you are aware of our no touching protocol as well as Ms. y/l/n is.” She spat.
“I’m sorry— I was just upset I should’ve never made him do that. It’s all my fault.” Y/n blurred out, Michael was surprised by her words, was she really trying to protect him? Little did she know there was no need for that, he was her protected from now on.
“It doesn’t matter who’s fault it is, you must be punished for such perversion.”
“Perversion?” Y/n questioned, “It was far from that.” She said stepping towards Miss.Mead but Michael put a hand out in front of her to stop her.
“Miss.Mead, how about me and you have a little chat in my office and we can discuss this in a private matter.”
“I must tell Venable about this first so she can handle y/n then we may speak.”
“There’s no need for that Miss.Mead, why don’t you follow me.”
Miss.Mead shot y/n a glare before turning around and following Michael. Y/n stood there not quite sure what happened or why it happened, all she knew was that she wanted it again. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he walked down the hall where he opened the door to allow Miss.Mead into his office, he looked at y/n with the desperation for her in his eyes one more time before shutting the door behind him.
“What was that all about?” Mallory, one of the greys whispered, casually appearing from the corner.
“Jesus Mallory, were you there the whole time?”
“No, just about when Miss.Mead showed up. It looks like Mr.Langdon fancies you. At least you know you’ll be going to the sanctuary.”
Y/n thought about it, did this mean she was going to the sanctuary? Just minutes ago she dreaded the thought of it but now it sounded heavenly— but only if Langdon was going to be there.
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“The flat Harry decided on was deep into Muggle London. Nobody knew who he was when he walked down the street. He was just another face in the crowd.”
A collection of moments taking place in Harry (and eventually Ginny’s) first flat.
Oh look! I’ve gone and finally published something after months of writing and planning (instead of leaving it to gather dust on my laptop).
So if you fancy some domestic fluff about the early years of Harry and Ginny’s relationship after Hogwarts in the form of a collection of random moments set in their flat, then please have a read!
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kjmsupremacist · 16 hours ago
make you feel my love (hyunjin/chan)
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Chan’s life, once empty, grew bright again when he met Hyunjin. But their meeting was more complex than one might think, their history more layered than they can bear to remember. There is love here, of course. But always where there is love, there is also grief.
I would advise you to read part 1 first, but it isn’t wholly necessary for your understanding of this work.
“But it is not blood that makes a vampire. No. It is the wanting.”
— Cecilia Tan, “The Tale of Christina”, Dark Angels: Lesbian Vampire Stories
Pairing: Hyunjin/Chan, Hyunjin/Chan/Felix
Characters: Bang Chan, Hyunjin, Felix; other skz member cameos
Genre: smut, vampires, horror, angst, romance, tragedy, i would call this plot with porn i think
Warnings: major character death, brief nongraphic mention of suicide, blood, violence, mild gore?, poor decision-making lmao, d/s dynamic, breathplay/choking, bdsm and general rough treatment, overstimulation, threesome, spitroasting, unhealthy attachment styles like no one in this work is 100% mentally stable and that is ok <3
Rating: Explicit
you can listen to the official playlist here! you can find my meta of red lights here!
just a reminder that this is .... dark. if the first part was haunting, then I would call this closer to horrifying. also, again, please suspend your disbelief re: the minute details of vampire biology. I don’t know how they can come if they’re dead.
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Chan’s life was full once. He had been young once. He had friends, a family. He cared deeply about things; he cared deeply about everything. There was life everywhere he turned.
Now, if he lets his vision unfocus even a little, it seems like everything slips into grayscale. There’s a chasm in his mind that yawns wide. It threatens to swallow him whole. Worse, though, is his apathy. One of these days, he is sure he will let it.
He knew it would be this way; he knew what he signed up for. He knew he was lucky to have the choice. His mother had not been so lucky. The same vampire that had killed his father had turned her while she struggled and screamed. She told Chan later she thought he had plans of making her his new wife. But once she recovered, she ambushed him and fled back to their home, where Chan had begun to grow restless with worry.
They grieved his father together. She didn’t tell Chan what had happened at first; she simply said they were attacked and that his father had died to save her. Later, though, when Chan began to question her odd habits, she broke down and told him the truth.
“You will grow old,” she said softly, “and I will stay the same.” She gave him a sad smile. “I always feared having to bury you. It is a mother’s greatest fear, that she may have to bury her children. I did not imagine it would be like this.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Chan said slowly. “You could turn me, and then neither of us will have to bury the other. Ever.” 
So it had been a choice, completely and wholly his own. But at the same time, it had been no choice at all. How could Chan abandon his mother to the loneliness of immortality; how could he force her to watch him grow old and die; how could he leave her all alone? Even then, without having experienced it, he could feel the horror of that kind of existence, the lingering dread.
He started keeping detailed records as soon as he recovered from the bite. It became his most prized possession—a bound notebook full of close friends: their likenesses, sketched by a local artist; their habits; the things he loved the most about them. If he was to live forever, he wanted their memories to live with him. He refused to let time steal this away from him.
They managed to hide it for a while. But a few years passed, and people began to talk. It was not so obvious on his mother; age had already cemented itself in her features before she had been turned. Chan, though, was young. People expected to see change, and when none came, they became suspicious.
“It will have to be like this,” his mother said. “We will never be able to stay in any one place for long.”
Chan knew, though knowing made it no easier. They made their excuses to acquaintances. They had distant relatives in the north; they heard of opportunities there; staying in that house without Chan’s father felt wrong, somehow. People accepted their reasons easily. Chan wasn’t sure if they were good liars, or if some people were secretly relieved to see them go, to be free of their mystery.
Before they left, though, he gathered his two closest friends and sat them down to tell them the truth. Changbin did not react much—Chan had a feeling he had already begun to catch on—but Jisung flinched away at the sight of his sharp canines.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Chan said, itching to reach out to him, though he knew it would do no good. “I will never hurt you.”
After his initial shock, though, Jisung accepted the truth quickly. They said their goodbyes, and Chan promised to visit as soon as it was safe.
“It probably won’t be for a while,” he said. “I need to wait for people to forget about me.”
“We won’t,” Changbin said fervently. “We won’t forget.”
And so for the next few decades, Chan and his mother moved from town to town, traveling thousands of kilometers. They mostly fed on wild animals; neither of them had a particular interest in human blood. They met a few other vampires on the way, and it was always good to set down the act for a night or two and trade stories. There was kinship in shared tragedy.
Finally, Chan decided to go back to his hometown. It had been long enough that most people would not recognize him. Still, he had to travel under the cover of night, which offered extra security. 
It had hurt to leave them; somehow, it hurt even more to return. Changbin and Jisung had both married long ago and raised children—children who were, by the time Chan made his way back, older than he had been when he left. Changbin and Jisung were old—by Chan’s estimate, nearing the ends of their lives.
They stared at him in wonderment; he stared back in longing. Their faces had changed in the intervening years; Chan wished he had time to update the sketches in his record book.
“You’ve lived well,” he finally said.
“You,” Jisung said softly. “You’re exactly the same. Not a hair out of place.”
“There’s something comforting,” Changbin added, “to see you unchanged.”
“You’ve both… grown up,” Chan said, studying them. “Is it wrong to say I’m proud of you?”
They smiled at him then, and the tension in the air was broken. They spent a few hours talking, but Chan could feel sunrise approaching. Though both Jisung and Changbin offered to let him stay, he refused. It would be dangerous, for one, but something told him he should return to his mother.
So he bid them both farewell, saying he would come back in a few months, as long as nothing came up, and ran off into the night. 
When he returned to his new home, he found it in flames. His mother’s dismembered and burning corpse was there to greet him in the doorway. For a moment, he froze, panic seizing his body. But then he remembered his record books, and he scrambled past overturned furniture and shattered glass. Luckily, whoever had done this had no interest in the journals buried at the bottom of a dresser drawer; they were untouched and unharmed. He gathered them up and fled from the burning house, collapsing in the yard as he watched the flames in the doorway swallow his last glimpse of his mother whole.
He wanted to grieve, but he knew sunrise was not far away, so after a moment of sitting in the dew-damp grass in shock, he dragged himself to his feet and, still clutching his record books, started to run.
He ran and ran, out into the wilderness, through thick forest and undergrowth. As the sun had just begun to peek through the trees, he stumbled upon a cave and took shelter inside.
With shaking hands, he opened his record book to a fresh page. He kept pieces of charcoal tucked away in pockets in the binding, and he extracted one. The sketch of his mother was crude and shaky, but it was all he had. No one else would be able to do it for him.
The grief settled in quickly. His mother was gone, and the life he had become a vampire to save her from would be his reality. After Changbin and Jisung passed, Chan would be truly and completely alone.
When his drawing was done, and notes on her character scrawled beneath, he set his things down and wept.
He let himself sit listless for a day. But when night came again, he knew he had to do something. He certainly couldn’t sit in that cave forever. First, he hunted for food, and then he began to track the vampires that had ransacked his house and killed his mother.
He found them rather easily; despite how well they covered their tracks, it only took a couple months of searching. He took them down easily, too; they didn’t suspect he would come after them, or maybe didn’t think he would be able to. He reclaimed his stolen possessions, and took a few other valuables, and traveled until he found another town a suitable distance away.
He bought a small plot of land there and settled in as best he could. He needed little, and the things he took from the other vampires were enough to sustain him for quite some time. Once he had established himself in his new home, he finally made the journey back to his hometown to visit his old friends.
It was the end of winter; it had been a particularly harsh one. Though Chan had only been away a half a year this time, everything had changed. 
Changbin and Jisung had both been taken by that season’s illnesses. Chan was too late.
He returned to his residence in a sort of grief-stricken daze. Who now could Chan even speak to, let alone care for? Everyone he knew was dead. Briefly, he considered letting the sunlight take him, but something else still burned in him. His life had been torn apart by selfish murderers. That did not have to be true for everyone else.
He got into contact with branches of local vampire government. He became a sort of bounty hunter; he would track down rogue, troublemaking vampires and bring them in; or, when he was asked, kill them where he found them. It was not easy work, nor was it enjoyable, but it was satisfying. The money was good, but Chan mostly did it because it kept him going. It was a reason to stay.
This went on for a century or so. Things changed. The world grew around him. He bought a few more residences around the country to make his work easier. He got used to this sort of existence—cooperating with others, but always lonely. It wasn’t so bad. His life had a purpose.
But during the day, he would pore over his old journals. His actual recollection of the people that had once been in his life was growing faint. He only really remembered remembering them. Still, it was better than forgetting entirely. He traced over the lines of the drawings with his eyes, meticulous, committing and recommitting them to memory. He repeated their names to himself when he was getting ready in the evenings. Han Jisung. Seo Changbin.
He convinced himself that the loneliness would grow familiar. There was no point in letting others into his life when eventually he would return to this, anyway. Something would happen; one way or another, one of them would leave, and only the loneliness would remain. It was better to resign himself to it now than spend years trying to outrun fate.
Still, though, Chan longed for a warmer life. He missed companionship bitterly. He watched the humans he mingled with jealously, coveting the fullness of their days, the sweet bright flare of their mortality. He felt foolish for it, but the yearning wasn’t something he could will away. It was something that resided deep within him. Maybe, in the end, it was all he was. 
Eventually, he was called closer to his hometown to deal with a particularly troublesome vampire. He’d been too brash, killing too many humans and terrorizing local towns. Humans are growing suspicious and restless, and most of the local vampires would rather someone got rid of him before he became too conspicuous. Chan was known for his expertise and his efficiency, so he was asked to tackle the case.
He watched the vampire for a week or so. He kept a relatively uneven schedule, going out occasionally in the night to feed and retreating into his mansion in the day. Chan stayed at an inn nearby, waiting. 
Curiously, he seemed to have some kind of human pet. The human never left the house; Chan wasn’t sure if he was bound there, either by physical restraints or magic, or was simply too scared to leave, but he caught glimpses of him through the window. It seemed like the vampire viewed him as some kind of prize. Chan had a feeling that when the human began to age, or when the vampire found a more interesting toy, he would be quick to kill and eat him. 
He didn’t harm the human until the ninth night that Chan watched him. He heard raised voices, and then saw the vampire dragging the human through the house, and decided he had to step in. 
Swiftly, Chan broke through one of the lower level windows and made his way to the upper floor. His presence shocked both of them into silence. The human stared at him in mute terror while the vampire recovered from his surprise. Chan had to tear his gaze from the human’s face, stunned for a moment by his beauty. He could see why the vampire had chosen this human to keep.
“Let the human go,” Chan said softly. 
“His kind will not take him back,” the other vampire said. “They will call him mad.”
“Maybe. That does not make him yours to kill.”
“Why are you here?” 
Chan sighed. “There are some who have deemed your actions irresponsible. I am here to put a stop to them.”
“Ah.” The vampire tightened his hold on the human, who squeaked in fear. “A fight, then?”
“If you insist,” Chan replied.
The vampire did something Chan did not expect. He sliced open the human’s stomach and threw him across the room, then paused, waiting to see how Chan reacted. 
The smell of blood filled Chan’s head, but he brushed it away. He would kill the vampire first, and then try to save the human. Without thinking twice, he charged at the vampire.
It was not a difficult fight. Chan had a feeling that this vampire was relatively young. He dismembered him quickly, backing him against a hallway window. He smashed the window open with a closed fist and hurled one of the vampire’s legs to one side, then tore off the other and sent it sailing in the opposite direction. Finally, he kicked the vampire’s screaming torso out the hole in the window as well, watching it crumple on the ground below.
The horizon was tinged yellow and orange. He would be dead soon enough.
Chan turned back to the human, who was gurgling softly on the floor.
Blood poured out of the wound; Chan could see that the vampire had cut him quite deep. Fear clouded the human’s eyes, but he must not have had the energy to shy away when Chan drew near. 
Chan had been trained in basic first aid in the intervening years after his mother’s death, but even a skilled doctor could not fix this wound. He hesitated, wondering if the human was still conscious.
But then he spoke. “Who are you?” His voice was faint and weak. He blinked his shining eyes—he really was beautiful, Chan realized. Even for a human. It seemed like such a waste.
“Don’t speak,” Chan murmured, running a hand alongside the wound.
The human didn’t listen. “Is he gone?” he asked.
Chan nodded. “He will be dead soon. Don’t worry.”
“You must be a vampire, too,” the human said.
Chan nodded again. “Do you want me to save you?” he asked softly.
Tears filled the human’s eyes then. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please, it hurts.”
“I can save you,” Chan said, “but that will hurt too.”
He thought the human nodded, but his eyes had glazed over again. Chan was left with a choice. 
He hesitated for one second. But the human had asked, and he was fading quickly. So Chan bent over him and bit over the artery that was jumping in his neck.
The little blood he did ingest in the process revitalized him, which was just as well. The fight, though quick, had been somewhat taxing. He pulled back, wiping his mouth on his hand, and watched as the human went terribly, terribly still.
After a pause, so long that Chan thought for a moment he may have been too late, the human’s wound began to seal. It did not even leave a scar behind; the human—well. Chan could no longer call him that. The new vampire would no longer bear scars but the one on his neck, to show how he was made.
As the wound finished sealing, the new vampire blinked open his eyes. 
There was no recognition there; the fever had set in already as his body fought to reject the venom. It was a long process, and an unpleasant one, and Chan knew humans would soon come looking. They could stay here for this day only, and then Chan would have to carry the vampire he made away, deep into the wilderness. His mother did the same for him when she turned him, took him away from people so that his screams would not alert their neighbors. 
As the new vampire convulsed on the floor, Chan moved back to the window to check on the other vampire. His body was smoking; soon it would catch flame, and nothing would be left of him.
That night, Chan traveled quickly into the woods, trekking deeper and deeper until he was sure they would not be found. He went toward the sound of water, and discovered a cave hidden behind a waterfall. The roar of the waterfall would mask almost anything else. 
For a week, the new vampire writhed and screamed as the venom took hold. Chan left him tied to a rock while he hunted, bringing back animals to feed both of them while he waited for the fever to come down.
After seven nights, the new vampire was cool to the touch. Chan sat beside him, waiting for him to wake.
When he finally did, he recognized Chan immediately. “You,” he said once he’d taken in his surroundings. “You’re the one who saved me.”
“Yes,” Chan said. “I—”
But the new vampire plowed ahead. “My name is Hyunjin,” he said brightly. “Thank you for taking care of me. What is your name?”
“Chan,” Chan said. “And you’re welcome. But—”
“That bad vampire,” Hyunjin interrupted, “he said he wanted to turn me and keep me there forever.” He rubbed his neck over the bite scar. “I didn’t think he would actually do it. I wish he had just killed me instead, but I’m glad you were able to kill him and get me out. At least I did not have to spend an immortal life with him.” 
The realization was horrifying. Hyunjin had not wanted this. Perhaps the pain had been so great that he had not known what Chan was asking him; at any rate, it seemed that Hyunjin had misremembered his turning. Chan was not in a rush to correct him. It would do no good. He needed Hyunjin to trust him so that he could help him adjust to being a vampire. He owed him that, at least. After a few weeks, they would part ways and it would never be Chan’s concern.
“He deserved to die,” Chan chose to reply. “I am sorry… about your turning, though. If you did not want it, it must be a shock.” He meant it genuinely, but Hyunjin brushed the comment off.
“It isn’t your fault,” he said. 
Guilt stirred in Chan’s chest, but he pushed it away. “Ah, are you hungry?” he asked. Hyunjin blinked, and then nodded. “When the sun sets, I will show you how to hunt.”
After eating, Chan offered to take Hyunjin back to his closest residence. He intended to let him stay for a few weeks while he adjusted, telling Hyunjin he didn’t mind the company. In reality, he felt he owed the boy for damning him to this life. Extending his hospitality was the least he could do.
Hyunjin adjusted quickly. He was a fast learner and despite being faced with what Chan knew was a rather wretched existence, seemed to remain positive. He asked Chan about his work, eyes glowing with interest when Chan explained how he had started down this path. Over the next month, they grew to know each other quite well, and Hyunjin even accompanied him on a few more minor jobs.
An obsession found a home inside Chan during this time. It started small, but grew quickly, blooming and dripping its sweet toxins, so potent Chan was worried Hyunjin might be able to sense it. He watched Hyunjin out of the corner of his eye, drinking in the sight of him whenever he could get away with it. He was radiant. Most vampires settle into some kind of otherworldly beauty—a trick of the venom, to lure their prey closer and coax them to let down their guard. But for those who had already been attractive in life, the venom only amplified these features. Chan only caught glimpses of Hyunjin when he was alive, and already had found himself taken by his appearance. Now, though, he was breathtaking. His long black hair fell in gentle wisps, brushing his shoulders; his eyes were dark and shimmering; his lips red and thick.
But he was out of reach; he had to be out of reach, because how could Chan have him without first telling him the truth of his creation? It would be wrong to do so; it would be a great stain on their relationship that would only fester and grow. And Chan knew that if he told Hyunjin the truth, he would leave him immediately. It was better to keep it a secret for a little while longer, and then let Hyunjin leave him on good terms so that he wouldn’t have to carry around a resentment that big. At least now, he thought the culprit was dead and taken care of. He would not have to contend with the gratitude he thought he owed Chan.
After a little over a month, Hyunjin would have been able to live on his own, but he stayed. Chan worried that perhaps he felt trapped at his house the way he had with the other vampire. He didn’t wish to imply that Hyunjin was unwelcome here—he most certainly was not—but he didn’t want him to stay out of obligation.
“You can,” Chan said haltingly one day, “you know, go wherever you like. You don’t have to stay here. I’m not… him. I will not keep you here.”
Hyunjin turned his beautiful eyes on Chan, and studied him for a moment. At last, he replied, “What if I wanted to stay?”
A war began in Chan’s mind. On one side, his craving for company and his fear of isolation screamed their approval. He liked Hyunjin, more than he would care to admit. He filled Chan’s days and nights, warmed him. Though they were both dead, he had brought life back to Chan’s existence. Losing that felt worse than anything in the world.
But it was wrong, all wrong. Chan turned him when Hyunjin had not wanted him to, and he didn’t know. It wasn’t fair. 
But Chan was weak and a coward. And it had been an accident, he told himself. Surely Hyunjin would understand if he told him—or perhaps he would never have to tell him. And besides, he liked Hyunjin so much.
While Chan was coming to this conclusion, Hyunjin had stepped closer. “What if I wanted to stay,” he repeated, “here, with you? Help you kill the bad vampires like the one who hurt me?”
“Oh,” Chan said quietly. “You can, if you want.” He saw doubt flicker across Hyunjin’s face, and he took a breath. “I mean, I would like that,” he amended. “I would like it, if you stayed.”
The doubt was gone; Hyunjin was smiling, beautiful and blinding. “Good,” he said softly. A pause. “What if I wanted to kiss you?”
Something close to warmth spread across Chan’s skin. His fingers twitched at his side. “I would like that, too,” he said.
Hyunjin was taller than him, and Chan had to tilt his head up to meet his lips. Hyunjin took Chan’s face in both his hands and kissed back, tongue and teeth eager, and Chan realized it had been decades, maybe longer, since somebody had touched him. 
“I want you,” Hyunjin whispered. He sounded like he was begging. Why, Chan wondered in the back of his mind, would Hyunjin beg? He should never have to beg for anything. Least of all from Chan.
“Then you will have me,” Chan replied immediately, and Hyunjin let out a sweet moan. Chan thought he would do anything to hear him make that noise again.
He found it wasn’t difficult. Hyunjin was just as eager, it seemed. Chan brought him to his bed, seldom used, and lay him down on the soft mattress. He undid the buttons on Hyunjin’s shirt, and the first press of his lips against Hyunjin’s skin had him whining, high and demanding. Some kind of dark arousal flared in Chan; he wanted to pluck Hyunjin like a rose and crush his petals to dust in his palms, the sweetness of the scent clinging to him wherever he went.
He didn’t know how to say it, though, so he undressed both of them swiftly instead to keep his hands busy. Hyunjin’s fingers fluttered over the sheets, catching hold of Chan’s wrists when he was within reach. 
“Kiss me again,” he demanded. Chan crawled up the bed so that their bodies were aligned, bending over him to kiss deep into his mouth. When they broke apart, Hyunjin was looking at him in reproach. “You can hurt me. I’m not afraid.”
Swallowing, Chan fought to reply. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”
“Yes, you do,” Hyunjin said quietly. 
They held each other’s gazes for a moment, and then Chan sighed. “Yes, I do,” he whispered. 
“You can’t scare me away,” Hyunjin said. “I want it. I want you.”
Chan cupped his cheek, running his thumb over Hyunjin’s pretty lips, now glossy with spit. Hyunjin opened his mouth, flicking his tongue out over the pad of his finger. Chan sighed involuntarily, head already swimming with lust. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed out. “Do you know that?”
Hyunjin blinked up at him slowly. “Am I?” he asked.
“Thought so from the moment I first saw you,” Chan admitted, running his hand down Hyunjin’s body and letting it come to a rest at his waist. “I had a lot of other things on my mind then—dealing with that other vampire, trying to get you out safely—but I remember thinking you were beautiful. I—” The words caught in his throat. “I have thought it again, many times, since then.”
Hyunjin let out a soft sound of appreciation. Chan wondered faintly if Hyunjin knew he was good-looking and was simply fishing for compliments, but he couldn’t fault him for that, either. He would be happy to tell him, over and over, no matter how many times he asked. 
“I know, especially to you, the time we’ve known each other is like a fraction of a breath, but I also know I am rarely wrong when I think I want something,” Hyunjin said softly. “Did you think about me, like this?” he asked, plowing on before Chan could even wrap his head about the question. “I thought about you.” His words were like electricity sparking across Chan’s skin. Suddenly, his thoughts were filled with dark images of Hyunjin mouthing his name in a moment stolen alone; he imagined Hyunjin watching him the way he had been watching Hyunjin—furtive, wanting.
The last of Chan’s restraint crumbled, and almost subconsciously, his grip on Hyunjin’s body tightened. “Yes, I thought of you,” he whispered. He held Hyunjin in place, moving down the bed a little so that he was situated between his legs. “I thought about how you would sound if I touched you like this—” He ran a finger up the length of Hyunjin’s cock where it lay half-hard against his inner thigh. Hyunjin gasped in surprise. Chan brought his hand to his mouth, taking two fingers between his lips.
Strictly speaking, preparation was not necessary for a vampire’s body—it would hurt for a moment, and then the body would give way—but Chan wanted to do it, just to watch Hyunjin fall apart from his hands alone. Or perhaps simply because it felt necessary. There was no need to remind either of them that they were just two dead things playing at life.
“Or,” Chan continued, pulling his fingers back out of his mouth and reaching down to pet over Hyunjin’s entrance, “if I touched you like this.” Hyunjin shivered, giving a breathy sort of moan. Anticipation made him tense, so Chan met substantial resistance when he first pushed his fingers past his rim. But after a moment, Hyunjin relaxed around him. His thighs twitched as the pads of Chan’s fingers brushed past his prostate. Chan looked up at him and found Hyunjin’s eyes staring back, glassy and slightly unfocused, and all the more beautiful.
“It feels like it’s been forever for me,” Hyunjin said softly. “Though in reality it’s only been a few years.”
“He never?” Chan asked. It hadn’t really occurred to him—rarely would a human survive an encounter like that—but now that the thought of it was in his mind, somehow it made him angry.
But Hyunjin was shaking his head. “No. Though I imagine he might have gotten around to it after my turning. But you were there, so it doesn’t matter.”
“I see,” Chan murmured.
“How long has it been for you?” Hyunjin asked. “Since someone has touched you?”
Chan blinked at him calmly. “I don’t remember,” he said honestly. He would have to check his records to be sure of the exact number. “Centuries, I think.”
Sadness bloomed across Hyunjin’s face. “That’s terrible,” he said. “Come closer, then. Where I can reach you.”
Chan couldn’t say no. He slid his thighs under Hyunjin’s hamstrings, pressing so close that the head of his cock brushed the heel of his hand where it was still buried inside Hyunjin. Hyunjin pulled him forward with one hand, stretching the other down to cup Chan’s cock. He squeezed softly, and Chan moaned low against his lips. For a moment, he forgot what he’d been trying to do, too lost in the feeling of Hyunjin’s hand on him, delicate fingers wrapped snug around him. 
Hyunjin strained upward to catch his lips, and the scrape of his teeth brought Chan back to himself. He muffled his moans in their kisses, pumping his fingers in and out, slow at first, and then faster when Hyunjin began rocking his hips.
Hyunjin had started moving his hand, too, smearing Chan’s precome along the whole length of his cock as he pulled and twisted his wrist. Chan’s other hand trailed up and down Hyunjin’s body, taking hold of his hip, then coming to rest on his ribcage. Hyunjin circled the fingers of his free hand around Chan’s wrist, tugging. 
Chan broke the kiss, brow furrowed. “What?” he asked.
“Here,” Hyunjin said, tugging again. Chan let him guide his hand up, up past his chest and clavicle until it was hovering over his throat. The look he gave Chan was pleading. “Here, hyung.”
Chan closed his hand around Hyunjin’s throat, thumb covering the bite scar over what was once his pulse point. He shifted a little to get the position right, and then squeezed. Hyunjin was giving him tiny nods of approval, so he kept going until he was sure it hurt. But Hyunjin had been right—Chan wanted to hurt him. Arousal grew steadily inside him as he watched Hyunjin’s eyes roll back in his head, his hand falling away from Chan’s wrist, landing limp on the bed at his side. 
“Would it please you to know I thought about this, too?” Chan asked. It was true—he had imagined taking Hyunjin in his hands and wringing him dry in this way. Hyunjin wheezed softly; Chan had a feeling that if he were able, he would cry out. “Did you think of it? My hands around your throat?”
Hyunjin gave a minute nod, blinking rapidly. Chan could see tears gathering there, but Hyunjin was smiling. He looked dazed and blissful, and pride rushed to Chan’s head, a roar of emotion. He had done this—he had given this pleasure to Hyunjin. And it was only the beginning.
He realized he was thrusting into Hyunjin’s hand now, at the same pace that he was fingering him—fast and a little erratic. That must be why the arousal rose fast and steady inside him, why his head swam, why he felt a gathering in his stomach. Clumsily, he squeezed a third finger in beside the other two. Hyunjin’s jaw dropped open, chin crowding Chan’s fingers. 
Chan released his throat in favor of wrapping his hand around Hyunjin’s cock. Hyunjin gasped in breaths, eyes wide, convulsing when Chan touched him. “I’m close,” he forced out, hoarse. “Are you?”
Chan managed a stiff nod, too focused on keeping his eyes open to reply. He wanted to see it, wanted to watch Hyunjin unravel in his hands. Hyunjin held his gaze, eyes half-lidded, pretty lips parted in a moan. And then Chan felt wetness across his hand, and looked down to see pearls of white splattered across Hyunjin’s stomach and chest. 
Hyunjin’s hand tightened around Chan’s cock. “Now you,” he whispered. It sounded like a demand, which amused Chan in the back of his mind. Did Hyunjin think he would refuse?
When he came, he felt it everywhere. There was something nice about having more than just his own hand and his imagination. Hyunjin watched him hungrily as Chan groaned and shook and spilled into his palm.
They caught their breath for a moment. Chan watched the shadows of the candle flames dance and flicker on his walls. He hoped Hyunjin wasn’t yet sated; he wanted more still. 
He was in luck. Hyunjin was already whimpering softly, squirming beneath him. “Chan,” he whined. “Fuck me.”
Chan smiled, pulling his fingers out with a wet pop. “You want that?” he asked, just to tease.
Hyunjin gave him a reproachful look, and Chan remembered thinking that he should not have to beg for anything. He took it back now; Hyunjin looked sweet when he was pleading, lower lip pushed out just a touch, eyes round and hopeful. 
“Please,” Hyunjin said in a very small voice.
Chan pulled away from him slightly, resting one hand on his hip. “Turn over, then,” he said. 
Pleased at having gotten his way, Hyunjin obeyed with a smile, rolling over fluidly, drawing his knees up beside his chest and curling over his thighs, resting his head in the pillow of his forearms. He watched Chan over his shoulder as Chan positioned himself behind him.
Chan lined himself up with Hyunjin’s entrance, hands splayed across his lower back to keep him still as he sank in. He was tight, despite the prep, and Chan groaned softly at the feeling of Hyunjin around him. His body held him soft and snug; Chan dug the pads of his fingers into Hyunjin’s skin as he bottomed out.
Hyunjin moaned openmouthed, unabashed. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed out. “Feels good.”
“You too,” Chan replied. “Such a nice body.” He meant it—he admired Hyunjin’s little waist, his long, lithe legs, the line of his spine, the delicate bones of his hands. Hyunjin preened, blinking slowly. “Ready?”
“Been ready since I saw you,” Hyunjin huffed, and it was all the encouragement Chan needed. He rolled his hips against Hyunjin, gritting his teeth at the way Hyunjin arched his back, lovely moans spilling freely from his lips.
Their refractory periods were much shorter than a human’s, but they still needed a little time to recover, so Chan kept his pace slow at first. Hyunjin still moaned appreciatively with his every movement. “You’re so loud,” Chan chided, tongue slow and heavy with pleasure.
“Can’t help it,” Hyunjin said, unapologetic. Good. Chan didn’t think he would tire of hearing him. 
Slowly, the sensation went from something sharp to a duller, more constant thrum under Chan’s skin, and he started thrusting faster. Hyunjin’s cries increased in pitch and volume, but Chan didn’t care. His property was large, his neighbors distant. There was nobody to hear but him and the gathering night outside. 
Chan reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Hyunjin’s long, dark hair. He tightened his fingers, satisfaction running thick and heavy through his body when Hyunjin gave a dry, choked sob. It took him a moment to realize Hyunjin had said something.
“What was that?” Chan asked.
“Harder,” Hyunjin repeated, insistent even though his voice was weak and broken. Chan had to admire his tenacity, he supposed as he started fucking him rougher. The bed shook, and Hyunjin sobbed, but Chan knew he didn’t have to stop. 
For a moment then, none of it mattered. Chan didn’t feel like a vampire, eternal and exhausted. The blanket of melancholy that seemed to usually smother his life receded somewhat. Even the guilt about the secret he harbored from Hyunjin was no longer so heavy. His own breath filled his ears; beyond it, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, and Hyunjin’s voice. Nothing else mattered. For those few minutes, Chan forgot his despair, his dread. He almost could have convinced himself that he was alive.
Hyunjin let Chan fuck him into the mattress, pliant beneath his hands. He cried, but between breaths he still begged for more.
“Don’t need to be greedy,” Chan said, struggling to keep his voice even. “There’s always next time.”
“Next time,” Hyunjin said dreamily, like it had only just occurred to him that this was not going to be a one-time occurrence. “Alright. Next time. Promise?”
I think I would do anything for you, Chan wanted to say. Anything you wanted. “Promise,” he said instead. 
“Faster,” Hyunjin said, now that that was settled. “I want to come.”
Chan did his best to pick up the pace. Hyunjin shifted, reaching his arm down between his body and the sheets to touch himself. He dissolved into whines when Chan changed the angle of his thrusts, clenching down around him. Chan growled low in the back of his throat, leaning over Hyunjin, turning his head to the side with the hand that was still in his hair, and kissing along his sharp jawline. He could feel the muscle working there under his lips. He could feel tears, could taste the salt of them on his tongue. Hyunjin twitched beneath him.
“Gonna come?” Chan asked softly. He hoped the answer was yes because he knew he wouldn’t be far behind.
“Yes,” Hyunjin gasped. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m so close.”
Chan grunted into his skin, finding it in himself somehow to go faster still, and Hyunjin wailed, spasming around Chan’s cock as he came. He was still shuddering through the aftershocks when Chan felt the tight coil of his own arousal release, spilling deep inside Hyunjin’s body. He sank his teeth into the skin of Hyunjin’s shoulder, moaning as his hips stuttered to a stop.
He released Hyunjin’s hair, smoothing it down; one of Hyunjin’s hands had found his cheek. Chan pulled out somewhat gingerly, rolling off Hyunjin and onto the mattress beside him. Hyunjin turned onto his side, lethargic but determined, leaning close so he could kiss Chan. Chan drew him to his side, kissing back.  
Gradually, the kisses grew sporadic, and then they relaxed into the pillows. They lay there like that in the dirty sheets for a while, Hyunjin curled against Chan’s body. They weren’t resting, exactly—just processing, Chan concluded. 
A few minutes passed. Then, Hyunjin cleared his throat. “After that vampire killed my family and took me away to live with him,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “I thought that was it. That was going to be my life—just him, for the rest of forever. It terrified me—that sort of loneliness.” Chan looked down at him, and saw him staring back. “But now he’s dead, and I have you. I’ll remember this now, whenever I feel hopeless.”
“I’m glad I found you,” Chan whispered earnestly. “I was quite alone.”
Hyunjin smiled. “I’d like to stick around a while longer, if you’ll have me,” he said. “Then neither of us will have to be alone.”
“I’d like that,” Chan said. He didn’t know why he was hoarse. But Hyunjin didn’t say anything about it.
Later, when Hyunjin had gone to hunt, Chan looked over his record books. He hadn’t shared them with Hyunjin yet—he didn’t want him to find the pages about his turning. He ran his fingers over the dried ink, fanned them over the edges of the page. He could have destroyed these records. He could have burned the pages that told of what happened that night, and written a different version of what happened—the version that Hyunjin believed. Then he could show Hyunjin everything—he could tell him his entire life story. Hyunjin could see the drawings of Chan’s mother, his friends, his home. And over time, Chan, too, would forget the truth. Without the real record to remind him, the memory would fade into nothing. They could be happy. 
He almost did it, hand poised to tear the first page out. It would have been so easy. But Chan didn’t deserve easy. It was one thing to offer Hyunjin the simple answer; Hyunjin didn’t need to suffer any more than he already had. Chan could not free himself of the responsibility. It wouldn’t be right. He would carry the truth of Hyunjin’s turning for the both of them, the heavy weight of a lie. It would be his punishment for what he had done, what he would continue to do. It didn’t make it right, but at least it was something Chan could live with.
He heard Hyunjin at the door, and moved quickly to hide his journals.
“Caught a deer,” Hyunjin called. “Come down, it’s still warm.”
“Just a moment!” Chan replied, guilt searing through him like venom.
And so Hyunjin became a permanent fixture in Chan’s life. He became an equal partner in his cases; soon, the vampire community knew both their names. They were respected and renowned. Though neither of them took particular delight in the killing, Chan knew he at least took some joy in the acclaim. They were doing good, and they were doing it together. In this way, many years passed.
Chan kept his records secretly, sneaking away to scribble down the days’ events. It wasn’t all too difficult—they knew they had forever with each other if they wished, so when they weren’t working a case, they would spend time alone. Hyunjin liked to dance, and would do so for hours at a time. Sometimes Chan would join him, but he didn’t love it the way Hyunjin did, so mostly he left him to his hobbies and took the opportunity to add more detail to his notes.
They didn’t spend all their free time apart, though; they couldn’t bear to. Eventually, Chan would stash his journals away, and Hyunjin would tire of dancing, and they’d meet in some common space—maybe the kitchen, or the living room. There was no rush to it; they’d wait for the other to arrive, patient, placid. And then, the sweet rush of happiness at seeing the other, to find they were, still, somehow, not alone.
“Hi,” Hyunjin whispered, taking Chan’s hands in his. “What were you doing?”
“Reading,” Chan lied, pulling him to his feet, tugging him close. “You?”
“Dancing,” Hyunjin said. “As usual.” He ducked his head and pressed his nose to the hollow of Chan’s throat, kissing just beneath it. A pause. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” Chan said, smoothing a hand down his back.
“I love you,” Hyunjin said, raising his head and looking Chan in the eye.
“Oh,” Chan said softly. The words dug their way under his skin, burrowing in the tough muscle of his still heart. Hyunjin loved him. “I love you, too.”
Hyunjin’s face softened into a joyful smile, and he kissed Chan, all teeth. “If I must live forever,” he whispered, “at least I can do it with you.” He pulled away just a bit, so Chan could see his face, could see his eyes sparkling. “Chan,” he said, his tone reverent. “My savior. My love.”
Chan tightened his grip on him. “Hyunjin,” he murmured. “You saved me. Do you know that?”
Hyunjin smiled. “Good thing I did,” he said gently. “You’re worth saving.”
No, I’m not, Chan thought, but he just kissed Hyunjin instead before he could find the sadness in Chan’s eyes.
But after that, it was even easier to ignore the truth, to bury under every I-love-you, and try to forget. 
But some things are impossible to forget. Chan realized that even if he had torn out the pages of his records, he would have remembered their events with stunning clarity, anyway. How could he forget, for longer than a few moments at a time, the fate he had affixed onto Hyunjin? How could he forget that he knew the taste of his blood? 
The world changed, and they changed with it. With faster modes of transportation made available, they no longer needed so many residences; they sold a few of the older, seldom-used properties and worked out of just a couple of houses. They continued their work. They continued loving each other. The horror of their pasts faded into the background of their minds.
Contrary to some beliefs, vampires do not take mates. Their relationships work in the same way a human’s would. The only difference is that marriage is a silly prospect to them—just another set of legal papers they would have to continue to update and forge—so Chan and Hyunjin were never married. But Chan knew if they were not immortal, and if it were acceptable, they would have been married long ago. As it was, they were in a long-term partnership with no end in sight. That was all either of them needed to know.
Decades slipped by them. There were rough patches, especially at the beginning, when Hyunjin was still settling into vampire life. Some days he’d come to Chan, shaking and tearful, begging him to help him remember pieces of his human life that had begun to slip away from him. Chan soothed him through it as best he could.
“It’s natural to forget,” he said quietly, holding Hyunjin close. “I don’t remember a lot of things, either.”
“I don’t want to forget,” Hyunjin mumbled.
“If you’re scared, you can write things down,” Chan suggested. “I do, sometimes. But you also have to trust that your mind will retain the things that are truly important.”
“What if one day, I forget who I am?” Hyunjin asked in a small voice.
“I don’t think that will happen,” Chan said, “but if you do, I’ll be here to remind you.”
Hyunjin’s eyes shone, and Chan’s guilt came knocking again. He did his best to push it aside.
Their work was steady, easy with the two of them. Sometimes they were joined by others for larger, more complex cases; sometimes it was just the two of them. But they were always together; when others called on them for help now, it was never just for one or the other. It was Chan and Hyunjin, Hyunjin and Chan. Are you and your partner available for a case? people would ask. We’ll pay double. 
But even in all the goodness, the acceptance, the acclaim, there were rumblings of distaste in their community. Whispers were passed around, that they were doing it for power, that they were greedy and self-important. 
“There are some that think you have been allowed to feast on your own pride for too long,” one of their acquaintances, Lee Minho, told Chan one day. “With your notoriety, and the money you make, there are some that feel your power is too great to be unchecked.”
“We don’t do what we do for power.” It came out angrier than Chan had intended, but he was bristling with fury. How could they? He, and now Hyunjin, had kept vampires and humans alike safe for centuries. How dare they question their intentions; how dare they be so ungrateful?
“I don’t agree, you understand,” Minho said calmly. “I’m just letting you know. You need to be careful. You and Hyunjin both. There is unrest, and unrest often leads to violence. I would hate to see something happen to either of you.”
“What do they want from us, then? A share of our pay? They can have it,” Chan said. 
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple.” Minho sighed, brushing his hair back. “Some are saying you should no longer be allowed to, ah, practice.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Chan said.
“To be fair, it’s not just you. Other older bounty hunters have been targets as well. A few retired actually, just last month, after increasing pressure. I’m sure you know Jaebeom and Jinyoung.” Minho waited for Chan to nod before continuing. “And more notably, one of their friends, Jackson, refused to cooperate.”
“What happened?” Chan asked. 
“He got into a fight with some locals of the town he was living in for a case,” Minho said. “They killed him.”
“What?” Chan stared at him, but Minho wouldn’t lie. Not about something like this. “So they’re doing the very thing they’re condemning us for? Does no one see the hypocrisy?”
Minho spreads his hands. “I guess not. I’m halting my activities until they decide what they want me to do. I’d advise you to do the same.”
“I’m not going to let some power-hungry insurrectionists tell me what I can and cannot do,” Chan said. “Our work is legitimate. I will continue working until I am unable.”
“And if they kill Hyunjin? What then?” Minho asked.
Chan froze. His own death, he could contend with, he supposed. But Hyunjin’s—that was crossing a line. And even the idea that he would have to leave Hyunjin alone was enough to give him pause. “Well,” he said, trying to sound brave. “At the very least, I will continue working until those who disagree voice their concerns to me directly.”
Minho nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s the best I can do for you, then. Good luck, Chan. Stay safe.”
Chan told Hyunjin once he got home. A line of worry appeared between his brows. “Maybe we should do like Minho, and the others,” he said. 
“But our work is important,” Chan insisted. “I don’t want to give it up at the first sign of danger. That would be cowardice.”
“I know, but—but what about what happened to Jackson?” Hyunjin asked. “If we push it, there may be no place for us.”
“I’d rather try and fail than give up,” Chan said.
Hyunjin nodded, taking his hand. “You know I will stand by your side.” He stared at Chan intently. “But promise me, if things start to look bad, that we’ll back down. I don’t need the work we do. But I need you.”
“I know,” Chan said softly. “I promise.”
Their confrontation didn’t come for some time. They kept working, completing a few more cases. Chan had a feeling it was because of their reputation that people did not come knocking on their door—many of these people were afraid of them. An angry pride reared its head inside of him. They should be afraid. Chan was likely older than all of them. He had seen things worse than any of their nightmares. 
But eventually, the dissent grew from rumbling to something too loud to ignore. A member of a local branch of law enforcement, accompanied by a couple of vampires that Chan did not recognize, showed up on their doorstep not a few hours after sunset. 
“We’ve let you run wild long enough,” the policeman said, holding up a hand when Chan opened his mouth to object. “It is not that we are ungrateful for the work you have done. But things are changing. Your role is no longer useful to us, and some are concerned that you may be using it to gain political and financial power. They have brought their concerns to those who hold public office, and we agree that it is in the community’s best interest that you either retire completely, or hand over a portion of your assets and await further instruction.
Hyunjin touched Chan’s arm, looking at the vampires across the table. “May we speak about this in private, please?”
One of the vampires stood, and the rest were quick to follow. “We will leave you tonight,” the policeman said. “We will return tomorrow, and we expect an answer. Please have one prepared. We’d rather not make things unpleasant.”
“Fine,” Chan said through gritted teeth. “You know where the door is. See yourselves out.” He watched their retreating footsteps with stony anger, unable to move for fear of doing something rash. He could barely feel Hyunjin’s hand where it still lay on his arm.
“That was a threat,” Hyunjin said as soon as they were gone. “Chan, we can’t. I know it’s important to you—it’s important to me, too. But I think it would be best if we cut our losses and got out. We can find other things to do! I want to try gardening.” He sounded desperate. “Chan, look at me.”
Chan turned his head, fixing his stormy gaze on Hyunjin. He softened immediately. Hyunjin looked scared and sad and unsure, but he clung to Chan’s sleeve all the same, pretty fingers balled tight around the fabric. “I don’t want to sit around waiting for them to tell us how we will fit into their new idea of society,” he said quietly. “I don’t want anything to do with any of them. Besides, I worry that it won’t be safe, even if we comply.”
Hyunjin nodded. “I agree,” he said quickly. “Why don’t we—sell all our other residences, pull our money out of savings, and buy a big, beautiful house somewhere out in the middle of nowhere? There people won’t bother us, and humans won’t be likely to stumble by, and we’ll be able to live in peace.” He shook Chan’s arm a little. “Together.”
It was a difficult thing, but Chan knew he didn’t really have a choice. He’d rather ensure Hyunjin’s safety than fight a losing battle. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll start looking tonight.”
“Thank you.” Relief flooded Hyunjin’s voice, sweet and warm. “I love you.”
Chan pulled him close so he could kiss him. He closed his eyes tight, letting Hyunjin’s taste soothe him. “I love you, too,” he whispered.
It was almost a relief, in a way, to withdraw. Chan was not going willingly. He had fought to stay in this world, and now he was being asked to leave it. But at least he had come out of it with something. He had Hyunjin, however dearly bought, and that was enough. It would have to be.
They found a beautiful mansion in a secluded clearing at the heart of a thick forest. No one would come looking for them there, and the isolation was enough to put worried minds to rest. Hyunjin bought plant seeds. Chan packed his record books underneath stacks of clothing. They sold their other houses, gathered their belongings, trimmed the edges of their life.
It was alright at first. Hyunjin tended his garden, danced. Chan made copies of older record books that had begun to fade. He could keep them digitally now, which was all the better. Easier to hide when they all lived on the same device, and harder to destroy. He and Hyunjin hunted in the forest—it was full of animals, plenty to live off of. The house was everything they could ask for—countless rooms, glass with UV protection so they would not have to keep their curtains closed in the day; beds and floors sturdy enough to withstand all the things Hyunjin and Chan did on them. They were happy.
But they were not fulfilled. At least, Chan was not. He missed having a purpose beyond loving Hyunjin, as sweet as it was. What was there left for him to do? He kept record of their days, though it hardly mattered anymore. Nothing happened. They had no visitors; even Minho stopped coming by after the first couple of years. They received no news, too concerned about what venturing back out into the world might bring.
Some days Chan would find himself in a panic, realizing he could not remember certain things. He would frantically search through his files for the answer, and sometimes he would find it. But most times, he would not; he would skim until his eyes burned, not even sure what exactly he was looking for, just knowing that something, somewhere was missing. There were cracks forming in his mind that turned into fissures.
He hid it from Hyunjin; admitting something was wrong would require revealing all his record-keeping, and he certainly couldn’t do that now. The one thing his mind, fraying as it was at the edges, would not let him forget was what he had done to Hyunjin all those centuries ago. It was almost a blessing, in a way; something to hold onto. When he found himself overwhelmed by all the things he had lost, he would soothe himself by listing the things he knew.
One: he had turned Hyunjin without knowing he hadn’t wanted it, and lied to him about it ever since. Two: they could never leave this house and reenter society, at least not for many, many years. Three: He loved Hyunjin and he would never leave him.
Hyunjin, at least, seemed to be handling the isolation well. Though Chan could see that he, too, was losing pieces of himself, at least he seemed content. His garden blossomed. He took to painting as well, and soon their walls were covered in his art. It was lovely—at least one of them was happy, still, and Chan loved to see Hyunjin happy—but the monotony only sped the deterioration that Chan could feel encroaching on every minute of every one of his days. He knew Hyunjin would not understand that, and a new kind of loneliness took root in Chan’s stomach. While Hyunjin was satisfied fucking Chan and pursuing new hobbies and busying himself with household things, Chan wanted more. And he would never have it.
It wasn’t all bad, of course. Hyunjin’s beauty became no less alluring with the passage of time. They had long grown comfortable with each other; they knew their ways around each other’s bodies as well as they knew their own. Chan hardly had to think about what he was doing anymore. It came to him naturally, just how loving Hyunjin came naturally. It was easy; it was right.
“Chan,” Hyunjin whined, trying to lean in close for a kiss.
“Hyunjin,” Chan replied evenly, holding him in place and keeping his lips just out of reach. “You said you were hungry.”
“The nights are growing longer,” Hyunjin replied. “The sun hasn’t even set. We can wait.”
“We can after we get back,” Chan tried again, but already he knew it was a battle he would not win.
“But I want to now,” Hyunjin said, pouting. His pouts were always dangerous. Chan always wanted to punish him for being pushy, but he also wanted to give him whatever he was pouting so hard for.
Chan sighed, and dipped his head forward, swift so Hyunjin wouldn’t see it coming, and snagged his offending lower lip between his teeth, then kissed him roughly. Hyunjin let his body melt into Chan’s, making a noise of satisfaction.
“Let’s be quick, then,” Chan said.
“I love you,” Hyunjin said breathlessly. Chan didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling. 
They were in a dining room, but that hardly mattered. Chan cleared the table behind Hyunjin and lifted him up onto it, kissing him in between to stop him from complaining. Hyunjin lay back against the sturdy oak, hair fanning out softly behind his head. He lifted his hips obediently when Chan tapped them so that he could pull his pants off.
“Good,” Chan murmured, almost reflexively.
Hyunjin let out a happy sigh while Chan started working on his own pants. “Can I have your mouth, before you fuck me?” he asked.
“Yes,” Chan said softly, eyeing Hyunjin’s cock as he let his pants fall to the floor. He bent over him, kissing a trail down from the seat of his belly to the tip of his cock before taking the head in his mouth. One of Hyunjin’s hands found his hair.
“Fuck,” Hyunjin whimpered tightly when Chan hollowed his cheeks. “So good, feels so good.”
Chan only hummed, taking Hyunjin deeper. He knew he had been the one to say they needed to make it quick—and he was right to say it—but he couldn’t help but take his time. Hyunjin shuddered, biting back moans like he liked to do when he thought it was too early for him to make too much noise, and Chan swallowed carefully around his cock, surrounded by his scent. Time was slower like this; the quietness of the house was not so stifling. Chan breathed in, slow, then drew himself up and off of Hyunjin with his exhale.
“Chan,” Hyunjin complained.
He looked so pretty, sprawled out on their dining room table, nice shirt now full of wrinkles, crumpled up around his ribs. His dark eyes followed Chan’s every movement. Chan clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t smile, tilting his head. “You don’t want me to fuck you?”
“Oh,” Hyunjin said, like he was just remembering. Maybe he was.
“Open,” Chan said, and Hyunjin did, tongue pushing his lower lip down to protect Chan’s fingers from his teeth. Chan pressed his fingertips against the roof of his mouth. “Close. Get them wet for me.”
Hyunjin looked up at him intently as he swirled his tongue around his fingers, batting his eyelashes, trying to take him deeper. Chan let him; if he needed it, Chan wouldn’t be the one to refuse. Eventually, he released Chan, coughing wetly.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Chan said impassively, bringing his hand down to Hyunjin’s entrance. “We still have to hunt.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Hyunjin replied, voice raw. Chan flicked his gaze up at him, eyebrows raised. “After we’re done eating,” Hyunjin continued, unfazed, “Will you choke me on your cock? We haven’t done that in a while. I want it.”
I want it. It was like he knew Chan wouldn’t say no. “I couldn’t tell,” Chan said drily, twisting his fingers inside him. “Yes,” he added, when he realized he hadn’t given his answer.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin said dreamily. Chan knew he was already imagining it. He let Hyunjin carry himself away with his thoughts while he lined himself up with his hole. 
He didn’t bother warning him, just pushed his cock in nice and slow. Hyunjin arched off the table with a surprised moan. “Oh, fuck,” he slurred. “Fuck fuck fuck, Chan.”
Chan liked it when Hyunjin swore. It was like a metric of how well he was doing. Four fucks in one breath meant he left him just tight enough for it to hurt. He bottomed out and paused, running a hand over Hyunjin’s stomach, down past his hips to his soft thighs. Hyunjin spread his legs a little wider, maybe subconsciously trying to take more of Chan, or maybe just trying to goad him into moving. 
Chan moved. It really was supposed to be quick, after all. They were good hunters, but he’d rather not risk being out near sunrise. Hyunjin wailed, clenching down like that would help.
“Hurts?” Chan asked, not slowing.
“Mm-hm,” Hyunjin said, nodding, “but it’s g-good.”
Chan made an affirmative noise, rolling his hips smooth and steady, letting Hyunjin spasm and cry out and eventually settle back down against the table as his body gave way to the harsh pace Chan had set. His cock bobbed against his stomach, slick still from Chan’s spit and the precome that leaked out drop by drop with every one of Chan’s thrusts. He watched Hyunjin’s face twist up with pleasure, watched him scrabble against the table. He always got spacey when he was forced to come fast, eyes wide and empty. Chan could only wonder what he was thinking.
He kept fucking him, fingers digging into his thighs, letting his lust take over his brain. The table creaked beneath them, but Chan knew it wouldn’t break. He wouldn’t have done this here if he thought it might. His orgasm built inside him. He could feel it like a pulse.
“Chan.” Hyunjin was struggling to focus on him, but Chan could tell it wasn’t for lack of trying. “I’m gonna come if you don’t slow down.”
“Good,” Chan said quietly. “Come, then.”
Hyunjin whimpered; it wasn’t the answer he wanted. But Chan was close, and he wanted to see Hyunjin come first. He wrapped a hand around Hyunjin’s cock, smiling when he sobbed. The noise became a scream as he came, shooting streaks of white across his stomach, hips twitching.
Chan released him, bringing his hand to his mouth to lick it clean, rutting into Hyunjin roughly to get himself off. He hadn’t even swallowed the last of Hyunjin’s come when he was coming too, deep inside Hyunjin’s body. He realized he’d dug his nails into Hyunjin’s skin, and forced himself to let go as he came spinning back down.
“Okay,” Chan said when he’d recovered enough. “Let’s go.” Hyunjin just groaned softly. “You asked for it,” Chan said, pulling out and reaching up above Hyunjin’s shoulder for a napkin to clean them with. “I said we should wait until after.”
“Give me a minute,” Hyunjin complained.
“You said you were hungry,” Chan reminded him, getting dressed and then offering a hand to Hyunjin. “Come on, baby.”
Hyunjin sighed, taking his hand and pulling himself up, hopping off the table and right up into Chan’s space to give him a kiss. “Where are my pants?” he asked.
“Here.” Chan waited for him to zip them up before nodding towards the doorway. “Let’s go.”
They ran out into the night, splitting up once they hit the trees. Chan sprinted, perhaps a bit faster than what was reasonable, relishing in the feeling of the cold wind on his skin. The leaves were turning; soon, it would be winter, and with the season would come shorter days and longer nights. After a summer of spending far too many hours indoors, the change would be welcome, even if the snow would make prey scarce.
He picked up the trail of a family of rabbits, and followed it, catching them quickly. Rabbits in hand, he picked his way back towards the house, trying to find Hyunjin.
He found his trail quickly, following his footsteps in the undergrowth. He’d gone towards the water, and suddenly Chan came to a clearing. Hyunjin was there, skin glowing in the moonlight reflecting up from the stream beside him. He was bent over a still figure.
“Hyunjin,” Chan said slowly. “What is that?”
“I found him like this,” Hyunjin said, not taking his eyes off the human, Chan could see now as he stepped closer. A young man, around the age Hyunjin had been when Chan turned him. “What should we do?”
Chan came up beside them, carefully setting the rabbits on the ground and crouching beside the human. He was still alive; Chan could feel his warmth as soon as he drew near. “He must have gotten lost hiking or something,” Chan murmured. “Or…” He glanced down. “His leg is broken,” he said. “He must have tried to get close to a water source. Maybe passed out from the pain.”
“We can’t just leave him,” Hyunjin said.
“We don’t have another choice. We can’t—what, take him to the nearest town? He probably won’t survive the journey, anyway.” Chan shook his head. “The wolves will get to him soon enough. If he’s lucky, they’ll strike while he’s still out.”
“You know how to fix broken bones,” Hyunjin said. “We could help him.”
Chan looked up at him, frowning. “And what happens when he wakes up? What happens when he starts asking questions?”
“We’ll just heal him up and send him on his way,” Hyunjin said, like it was that simple. “It’ll be fine. Please, Chan. I feel awful just leaving him to die.”
“What happens if he wants to come back and thank us? Or tells his human friends about us?” Chan pressed.
“We can keep up the act,” Hyunjin insisted. Chan pressed his lips together, thinking. “You would’ve done it, if it was me.”
“It was different, when we met,” Chan said delicately. “A different lifetime.”
They were silent for a moment. The rabbits had gone cold. 
“We’ll figure it out.” Hyunjin brushed some blonde hair back from the human’s face. Chan noticed then the freckles dusting his cheeks. “Please, Chan.”
He knew they shouldn’t. But it had been so long since they’d seen another person. It couldn’t hurt, could it? Hyunjin was right; they could simply paint themselves as eccentric recluses; once the human was healed, they would offer to help him find his way back home, and tell him not to worry about thanking them. If they made it clear they didn’t want to be disturbed, he’d probably just let it be, right?
“Fine,” Chan said, picking up his rabbits. “But when he’s healed, he goes.”
“Thank you,” Hyunjin said, eyes bright. He picked the human up, cradling him in his arms, and followed Chan as he turned and headed for home.
Once they were inside, Hyunjin laid the human out in one of the downstairs bedrooms. He drained a rabbit while Chan got to work resetting the human’s leg and making a splint. Hyunjin cleaned the dirt from his face and hair. 
“Tomorrow night,” Chan said, “I will go into town to get some food. He’ll want to eat when he wakes, I’m sure.”
Hyunjin nodded. “I’ll stay to watch him,” he agreed.
The human stayed asleep through the entirety of the day, and once evening came again, Chan gathered up some money and left Hyunjin to tend to him.
The town had changed since Chan had last seen it. It had been years at least; the last time he’d ventured out was to get a laptop and a WiFi router. The buildings were taller, sleeker, and there were more people. Though it was rather late, maybe around midnight, many humans were out, filling the streets and the bars. 
Chan ducked into the first grocery store he found, gathering whatever caught his eye into a basket and hurrying to pay. He didn’t want to be away long, and as soon as he was finished paying, he rushed back out into the night.
But the house was still and dark, just as he’d left it, when he returned. As he slipped off his shoes, however, he heard the low murmur of voices.
He almost went straight to the bedroom, but realized it would be odd to come up with so many groceries, so he went first to the kitchen to put things away. He transferred their stash of blood to the bottom drawer, swept dust off the counters. He tried to make it look lived-in, though he knew it was silly. The human wouldn’t be able to come up the stairs on his own. 
Finally, with nothing left to do, he made his way back downstairs, where Hyunjin was speaking.
“…in the forest?” he was asking.
“I’d gone for a walk.” A voice that Chan had to assume belonged to the human. It was odd—the voice was low. From the human’s delicate features, Chan wouldn’t have guessed it. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and fell down a huge ravine. And when I stopped moving, I realized there was something wrong with my leg. So I—oh!” 
Chan had rounded the corner and come to a stop in the threshold of the bedroom. “Hello,” he said softly, trying not to spook the human, who was now sitting up against the headboard. Hyunjin sat in a chair beside him, and had turned at the sound of Chan’s footfalls.
“Felix,” Hyunjin said, “this is my partner, Chan. I told you he’d be back soon. He’s the one that fixed up your leg.”
“Thank you,” Felix stammered out. 
Chan smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t call it fixed quite yet. You’ll have to heal a bit before you can move about. Do you want us to call the hospital? We weren’t sure—I mean, I figured I could probably stabilize you on my own. Besides, it’s hard for vehicles to get out here. So we thought we’d ask you.”
Felix shook his head. “They’d probably have to airlift me, if that’s true,” he said. “Too expensive. I mean,” he added quickly. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I can go if you want. But I’d rather just call a taxi or something.”
“You can stay, if you prefer,” Hyunjin said. “Chan isn’t a doctor, exactly, but he knows what he’s doing.”
“Is that alright?” Felix asked meekly.
Chan nodded. “We don’t mind. We don’t get a lot of visitors—by choice, of course, but if one happens by, we won’t turn them away.” Felix looked at him quizzically, but Chan decided to change the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“Oh—um, yeah, I am,” Felix said, blinking.
“I can get you something,” Chan said. “Some soup?”
“Soup is good,” Felix agreed. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Chan turned and left, happy to be gone.
As he retreated down the hall, he heard Hyunjin ask, “So what do you do, Felix?”
They quickly fell into a routine this way. One of them would stay with Felix most of the time while the other tended to the house, to meals, to whatever they liked. They usually tried not to overwhelm him with their presence; rarely would the two of them stay together in the room for long. 
It didn’t give them much time together, except for a few hours at night while Felix slept. They spent this time rearranging the house, trying to hide signs of the truth, or hunting, or heading into town for more food. Chan even bought a car, though they didn’t use it, realizing it was suspicious that they wouldn’t have one. No human could make the walk in under a few hours.
Felix seemed somewhat wary at first, but quickly opened up to them. Chan found himself laughing around him, like he hadn’t in a long time. Felix shared stories about his life, and Chan and Hyunjin got to know him very quickly.
He seemed dissatisfied with the world when he spoke of it. From his telling, things seemed horrible and mundane. Chan was almost glad for their solitude, away from all the troubles Felix described. Poverty was rampant, it seemed, and overpopulation was threatening the entire planet. Felix spoke of his own worries in a detached manner, as if he had long since grown accustomed to them. 
His family was all gone, all in different ways. His father had died in a plane crash when he was nine; his mother and one of his sisters had been taken by a deadly virus a few years afterwards. His other sister drank herself to death to drown her grief. Only Felix remained, juggling multiple jobs, too busy for friendship, too poor for happiness. In a way, he said, it was a good thing he’d fallen that day. It wasn’t like he had much going for him, anyway.
“He doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Hyunjin said to Chan one night. “Can’t we keep him?”
Chan did feel bad for him, of course. And besides, he liked Felix. He was sweet, and funny. But he knew that wasn’t enough of a reason. “The longer he stays, the more likely it is he discovers the truth,” he said. “And he’ll run screaming back to the humans, and we will be done for.” 
“But what if he doesn’t?” Hyunjin wheedled. 
“You would keep him, as you were kept?” Chan asked. It was harsh of him, he knew, but he didn’t know how else to get through to him. 
It worked, at least. Hyunjin flinched and fell silent. He did not speak of it again.
So Felix healed, and Chan and Hyunjin pretended to be normal. It was a problem for another day, they both decided. Tomorrow, we’ll think about it. Tomorrow, we can worry. Tomorrow after tomorrow came and went.
They bought crutches for Felix, and a medical boot, so he could hobble around without assistance. He seemed happy to crutch up and down the halls, careful to keep weight off of his leg. Weeks passed. He started exploring; Chan would find him on the third story, or maybe the first. He went out to sit in the snow on the first day after a night of storming.
“Come on!” he called to Chan and Hyunjin, who lingered in the doorway. “It’s soft!”
Chan shook his head. “It’s slippery, Felix,” he said. “Come back inside.”
Felix frowned, but did as he was told, dusting the white powder from his hands as he stood. 
These sorts of awkward conversations started happening with more and more frequency.
”What’s your favorite food?” Felix asked.
“Oh, ah, I like jjajangmyeon,” Chan said quickly.
“You’ve never made it,” Felix said, sounding puzzled. “Actually, I haven’t seen you eat at all.”
“I do eat,” Chan defended uncomfortably.
“You must,” Felix mused, half to himself. “To keep a physique like that.”
“He asked me what it is we do,” Hyunjin told Chan one day. “You know, to afford this house and everything, since we look so young. I panicked and said I sold my art, and that you worked remotely trading stocks. I don’t think he bought it.”
Chan sighed wearily. “Well, he’ll be off the crutches in a week. Maybe we can convince him to leave.”
He tried to do it gently. If things were different, he would never dream of asking Felix to go. When he wasn’t asking uncomfortable questions, he was a delight to be around. The house felt warmer with him in it. Chan found himself fixated on him when he talked, his hands dancing in the air. He grew to know the sweet curl of his lips when he smiled, the low rumble of his laugh, the lines of his eyes.
“Felix,” Chan said casually one evening. “It’s been a delight to get to know you, but—I mean, you’re almost healed, and we just—wouldn’t want to keep you from your life, you know.”
“You want me to leave,” Felix said. His words cut through the room like a knife.
“It’s not that, we just—”
“It’s alright,” Felix said quietly. “I know I’ve intruded on your lives. Something—is different, about you two. I’ll go.” He drew a breath. “But first, I want you to answer a question. Can you get Hyunjin, please?”
Chan turned to stare at him. “What?”
“Please,” Felix repeated. Chan had never seen him so serious, not even when he had explained his past. His eyes were clouded and distant.
“Alright,” Chan said, not knowing what else to do.
Chan brought Hyunjin back to the dining room, where they sat opposite Felix at their table. Felix was studying his hands where they were clasped in his lap. After a few long moments of silence, he looked up.
“I just want you to answer me honestly,” he said. “Please don’t try to tell me I’m crazy. You can—you can even kill me after you answer, I just want to know.”
“Why would we kill you?” Hyunjin asked.
“You’re not human, are you?” Felix blurted. “Not anymore, anyway.”
The silence was heavy. Hyunjin stiffened beside Chan. They could hear the tick of the clock down the hall. 
When they didn’t reply, Felix pressed on. “I think you’re vampires,” he said, “which I know sounds nuts, unless I’m right. And you’re sitting there staring at me like that, which I think means I’m right. I—I promise I won’t tell. I swear. No one would believe me anyway. And I don’t have anybody to tell! I just—I just want to know.”
Chan exchanged a brief glance with Hyunjin, and then sighed. “Yes,” he said quietly. “You’re right.”
Felix’s jaw dropped. “Really? I mean—that’s it?”
“What else would you want us to say?” Chan asked.
“I just—I don’t know, it seems like kind of a big deal,” Felix said. “And I mean—you don’t want to eat me? Why didn’t you, when you found me in the woods?”
“Ah,” Chan said, “no, I’ve never really enjoyed drinking from humans. My father was killed that way.”
“You had a father? No, of course you did. I’m sorry,” Felix said in a rush, shaking his head. “Um, so if you’re not going to eat me—or, um, kill me—can I—can I stay?”
“Stay?” Hyunjin echoed. “You don’t want—to go back?”
Felix spread his hands. “I told you, there’s nothing left for me there. I’m sure my old apartment has already been cleared out and sold to someone else. People probably think I’m dead by now. If they haven’t come looking, they won’t. I don’t have a family, or friends. I hated my life there. Here—it’s different. I don’t have to worry about so many things, I don’t have to deal with people I don’t like. And—and there’s you.” He was looking at Chan when he said it, faintly embarrassed. “If you—if you still want me to go, I’ll go. And I meant it, I won’t tell anybody. Just—I wouldn’t mind staying.”
“We chose to save you,” Hyunjin said slowly, giving Chan an imploring look. “We made you our responsibility. I’m sure it’ll be alright, right?”
“I can be useful,” Felix added before Chan could reply. “I mean, I can go out during the day, you know? And I can, like, clean and stuff. I’ll stay out of your way.”
Chan held up a hand to stop him; he had a feeling Felix would just keep talking until he turned blue if he didn’t. “Alright,” he said. “But you’re not a prisoner here, okay? You may leave when you wish. Just—as a favor to us, please don’t mention anything about us, to anyone.”
Felix nodded quickly. “I understand,” he said. 
And so Chan’s life changed once again. Now that they no longer needed to hide it, having Felix around was easy. He danced with Hyunjin, went with him to tend to his garden. He helped Chan cook, teaching him recipes he’d learned in the time he spent living alone.
“I’ve never had access to a nice kitchen, or a fully-stocked fridge,” he admitted. “I only wish you could try what I make.”
Chan smiled at him. “I can’t digest it,” he said apologetically. “But it always smells good.” Felix beamed at him in response.
There was the lingering question, of course, of what would happen as Felix aged. He had expressed no desire to be turned—and Chan wasn’t sure he would agree to do it, even if he asked—but it was inevitable. Felix would grow old, and eventually die, and Chan and Hyunjin would have to bury him.
But, Chan reminded himself, that wasn’t now. Now, Felix was full of life. Winter had turned to spring, and soon it became summer, and Felix spent time outside, never straying far beyond their yard. Chan would watch him from the window as he picked wild flowers and chased birds on his freshly-healed leg. He’d come back tanned and smelling of honey, presenting his haphazard bouquet to the both of them. “A handful of sunshine, for you,” he said. “Look, feel the petals. They’re still warm.”
When summer gave way to autumn again, Felix helped Hyunjin harvest pumpkins from his garden while Chan gathered firewood. That evening, Chan taught Felix how to make a fire without a match or a lighter while Hyunjin sketched in an armchair.
“Now you try,” Chan said, blowing it out before it could catch.
He watched over his shoulder as Felix dutifully rubbed the stick between his hands. “Like this?” he asked.
“Faster,” Chan said. “Good.”
It took much longer than Chan’s demonstration, but eventually he got it to light. Chan snatched up the burning stick, nearly whittled all the way through, and used it to light the wood stacked in their fireplace. “That was so cool!” Felix gasped, watching as the flames grew.
Chan grinned. “You did very well,” he said warmly.
When he hugged him, Chan glanced over Felix’s shoulder and caught Hyunjin watching them intently. He smiled, and Hyunjin smiled back.
Felix’s birthday passed, a gentle reminder that he was growing older. But it was alright. He was young still; he had another sixty years at least, and these last few months seemed to have passed slower than usual. Sixty years felt like eternity. Chan went out late the night before while Felix was sleeping to buy him a cake. After he blew out his candles the next morning, Felix coaxed both of them into trying just a tiny taste of the frosting.
“A little bit can’t hurt, right?” he wheedled. “I eat things I can’t digest all the time. C’mon, it’s sweet.”
Chan closed his mouth around the prongs of the fork Felix was holding out to him, tips just barely covered in icing. It really was sweet.
The weather turned stormy. Felix still liked to take walks around their yard, even in the rain, and neither Chan nor Hyunjin stopped him. One day, it began storming very suddenly, and Felix burst through the doors a few minutes later, soaked through to the bone and teeth chattering as he struggled to free himself from his jacket.
“Here,” Chan said, hurrying down the stairs to help him. “Hold out your arms.”
They got his outside layers off and Chan took them to the laundry room while Felix went to run himself a hot shower. When Chan came to check on him, he found him burrowed under the covers, still shivering. 
Chan dug around for a thermometer and coaxed Felix to take it. It came back reading 37.9.
“I’ll get you some tea,” Chan said. “Honestly, I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve fallen ill.”
He brewed some chamomile tea, and brought it back down. Felix waved him away as soon as he received it. “You’ll catch it if you come too close.”
Chan laughed. “I am impervious to sickness, silly,” he said. “Do you want another blanket?”
“Oh,” Felix said meekly, wearing a self-deprecating smile. “Yes, please.”
Chan sat with him until he finished his tea and his eyelids had begun to droop. He took the cup and switched off the light. “Get some rest,” he said quietly. Felix was already half asleep, nestled under the covers. “Goodnight.” 
He almost bent down to kiss his forehead, aborting the movement so suddenly the mug nearly slipped from his hand. Feeling awkward, though thankful that Felix hadn’t seen, he slipped from the room as quickly and quietly as he could.
Though Felix hadn’t witnessed it, he felt strange around him afterwards whenever they were alone together. It was odd—he only now began to notice how long Felix’s eyelashes were, how soft his hair. He spent many hours sitting at his side, watching over him as the cold ran its course. There was a tug in his stomach when he looked at Felix now. If it wasn’t a loaded thing to say—because he didn’t mean it like that—Chan would call the feeling hunger.
It didn’t help that Felix just seemed to be a naturally affectionate person. He liked to give hugs, and he didn’t like to be alone. Even after he recovered, Chan thought he seemed a little more clingy. If he wasn’t with Chan, he was with Hyunjin—Chan passed the ballroom one day to see the two of them dancing together, nose to nose. Surprisingly, this didn’t spark jealousy in Chan. Instead, what he felt was curiosity. 
The first snow fell. It had been over a year since they found Felix in the woods. They went out after the moon rose at Felix’s request for a snowball fight. Chan had never laughed so hard in his life, even when Felix accidentally caught him in the lip with an errant throw. After Felix bade them goodnight, Hyunjin and Chan went out to hunt.
“You know,” Hyunjin said quietly as they strolled back towards their home. “I really quite like him.”
Chan blinked. “I do, too,” he replied, not sure exactly how Hyunjin had meant it.
“I think he likes us, too,” Hyunjin continued as Chan unlocked their back door.
“I’ve gotten that impression as well, yes,” Chan said.
“Would you want to—maybe—I mean, I know it’s not conventional,” Hyunjin said, following Chan up the stairs to the kitchen. “But...” He gestured towards their fully-stocked fridge. “We’re already here, you know?”
Chan nodded slowly. “But what if we’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want it?”
“We’ll just… suggest it. Gently. I really don’t think he’ll say no,” Hyunjin said. “Maybe in a couple nights—just, before he goes to bed, ask if he wants to stay instead.” When Chan hesitated, Hyunjin leaned in. “You can’t pretend you don’t want him, Chan,” he said softly.
And so Chan agreed. They set things up, changing the sheets in one of the bedrooms so Felix would have something clean and soft to lie on. They both offered to help make dinner with him, sipping at wine glasses of fox blood while Felix ate. Chan could tell that Felix knew they were up to something, knew they were stalling. He ate slowly, leaving pockets of silence for them to speak up, but Chan wanted to wait until he was done with his dinner before he tipped his world on its head.
Felix stood to put his dishes in the sink. “Thank you for sitting with me,” he said. “I think I’ll head to bed?”
“Felix,” Chan said softly, “would you—and you can say no—would you like to join us, tonight?”
Felix turned, looking back and forth between the two of them, surprise painted across his face. He was blushing, Chan noticed; the warm redness had risen to not just his face, but the skin of his neck as well. “I-if you promise you won’t break me,” he managed after a moment, eyes wide.
Hyunjin laughed quietly. “We know how to be gentle, Felix,” he said. 
Chan stood. “Is that a yes?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Yeah, yes,” Felix stuttered, reaching out to take it. He giggled sweetly when Chan pulled him close. “I’ve been thinking about it, actually,” he admitted as Hyunjin stood, too, coming up to his other side. “But I—I wasn’t sure you’d even want me.”
Hyunjin leaned in, dark hair framing his face and creating shadows that sharpened the angles of his features. “Why wouldn’t we want you?” 
Felix blushed harder, if it was possible. “I don’t know,” he whispered. 
“I’m glad we can set that straight, then,” Hyunjin said, dipping his head and stealing a kiss. 
Chan was happy to let Hyunjin seduce Felix a little as he guided them down the hall to the room they prepared. It was a short walk, but by the time they reached the bed, Felix was already sighing, his grip on Chan’s hand tight.
Chan pried himself free and closed the door behind them—not that it mattered, but there was something to be said for the enclosure. Anything that existed outside of this room didn’t matter, and they could be free of distractions. 
Hyunjin had already laid Felix down on the bed; Felix clung to his neck while Hyunjin kissed him, one hand already exploring under Felix’s shirt. Chan took his time lighting a couple of candles before joining them. 
Felix reached out to him as soon as he felt the bed dip; something lunged from Chan’s stomach to his throat at the gesture. He took Felix’s outstretched hand and kissed it.
Hyunjin pushed himself to the side, crawling up to sit next to Felix’s head. Chan bent forward and caught Felix’s lips with his own. Felix turned to him easily, moaning softly when Chan gave him a gentle nip. He shifted on top of the sheets, hips twitching. Chan had a feeling he wasn’t even aware of it himself. 
“What do you want, baby?” Hyunjin asked Felix when Chan released him. 
Felix blinked his eyes open; they were glazed and over-bright. “Uh,” he said softly. “I don’t know, what do you want?”
Hyunjin laughed, running his thumb over Felix’s spit-slicked and kiss-bitten lips. “I think I want your mouth.” Felix whined in the back of his throat, tongue poking out to chase Hyunjin’s finger. “Do you want that? Want to suck my cock?” Felix nodded. It was cute, Chan noted, how quickly he struggled with words, how easily he grew pliant in their hands. “What about Chan?”
“Want Chan, too.” He sounded frustrated for a moment, but then his face cleared, giving way to delight. He turned his sweet eyes on Chan. “Will you fuck me?”
The same wave of wanting rose in Chan again and he struggled to reply. “Of course,” he said. He stroked Felix’s soft cheek. “Let me get some lube.”
He rummaged around in the drawer of the bedside table while Hyunjin and Felix got each other out of their clothes. Chan found Felix’s hands on his waist when he turned, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He let Felix undress him, let him press wet, open-mouthed kisses to his chest and stomach.
“I’ve been wanting to see your body,” Felix said breathlessly.
“And?” Chan asked. “What do you think?”
“Come closer and maybe I’ll tell you,” Felix said, pulling Chan towards him.
Hyunjin was the one to arrange them on the bed; he sat back against the headboard, Felix on his hands and knees with his head in Hyunjin’s lap, and Chan behind him. Hyunjin threaded his fingers through Felix’s hair, tipping his head back when Felix closed his mouth around his cock. Chan watched the way Hyunjin’s throat moved as he swallowed down moans, mesmerized for a minute before remembering he was supposed to be prepping Felix.
He knew he was going to have to be much more careful with Felix than he was with Hyunjin, but Felix only moaned, muffled by Hyunjin’s cock, when Chan pushed his first finger into him. If anything, it was Chan who was surprised. Over the years, he’d forgotten the feeling of heat on his skin. Felix was warm, warm all over. Chan’s breath caught in his throat.
“Is it too cold?” he asked, pausing to gauge Felix’s reaction.
“Mm-mm,” Felix said, sounding insistent. He gave a tiny shake of his head; Hyunjin huffed out a breath.
Chan opened him up slowly, making sure there was very little resistance before adding another finger. Felix rocked back against his hand, head bobbing rhythmically between Hyunjin’s thighs. Hyunjin kept his hips very still, hand in Felix’s hair to help guide him. 
“Baby,” he said when Felix took him deeper, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Mm-mm,” Felix argued. 
“You asked us to be gentle,” Hyunjin reminded him.
Felix pulled off quickly. “I asked you not to break me,” he said, indignant. “I can take it. I’ll tap your thigh if it’s too much.” He tipped forward, pressing his nose into Hyunjin’s stomach. “Want you to fuck my throat.”
Hyunjin pet Felix’s hair. “Alright,” he said. “I just don’t want to hurt you, that’s all.”
“You won’t,” Felix said with a note of finality.
The room filled with wet noises; Chan was on four fingers now, and Felix was doing his best to take Hyunjin’s entire cock in his mouth, base to tip. Hyunjin gasped, thighs trembling, and Chan caught his eye.
“How does it feel?” he asked, massaging Felix’s prostate with his fingers just to make him whine. 
Hyunjin dropped his jaw open, moaning softly. “He’s so good,” he murmured, lovingly resting one hand over the base of Felix’s skull. “He’s so warm.”
Chan removed his fingers so he could slick up his cock. He trailed a fingertip down the length of Felix’s cock with his free hand, smiling when he shivered, the muscles in his shoulders bunching up. “He’s so hard.” Felix whimpered around Hyunjin’s cock. 
Hyunjin laughed softly, looking down at him. “He just likes to tease,” he said. “He always gives you what you want, in the end. Chan is good like that.”
Chan didn’t reply, just lined himself up with Felix’s entrance and pushed in. Felix seized up around him; he pulled off of Hyunjin’s cock, coughing dryly. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped.
Chan stopped moving and ran a soothing hand down his back. “Are you alright?” he asked.
Felix made an incredulous sort of noise. “I’m getting fucked by two of the most beautiful people on the planet, I think; of course I’m alright,” he stuttered out, adding, “holy fuck,” like he couldn’t believe Chan would even ask. “As long as you keep moving, I’ll be okay.”
Chan pressed his lips together to hide a smile. “Just checking,” he said, pushing his hips forward again. Felix took Hyunjin’s cock back into his mouth, and Chan bottomed out. With his worry for Felix gone, he could actually focus on feeling him. He was warm and wet around Chan; he almost swore he could see the heat rising off of his body. A thin layer of sweat gave a slight gleam to his back; his skin looked like honey in sunlight, rich and shining and sweet. 
He opened up around Chan, too; soon, he was moving with ease. He bent over Felix’s body, kissing the knobs of his spine as he rolled his hips forward and back. It was all he could do to keep himself in check, to not be too rough. Felix took him so well, the sweet clutch of his body making lust cloud Chan’s mind. He tried his best to keep a steady rhythm, cradling Felix’s body close to his own.
Felix drooled on Hyunjin’s cock, letting out a steady string of low moans. Hyunjin was arching away from the headboard, knees bent and toes curling. His breath hitched—he would come soon, Chan knew—but before Chan could even say anything, Felix wailed, shaking and spasming around Chan’s cock, releasing Hyunjin so he could cry as he came, untouched. 
“Sorry,” he gasped out. “Just felt so good, and I couldn’t—”
“Don’t apologize,” Chan said.
“Think you can come again?” Hyunjin asked. 
“Yes,” Felix said immediately, “just give me a second—fuck!” The pitch of his voice curved up into a squeal as Chan pulled out. 
“Sorry, baby,” Chan said. “I just thought Hyunjin should get a turn.”
“You’re already covered in lube,” Hyunjin pointed out.
“I know,” Chan replied placidly. “Come here so I can prep you while Felix catches his breath.”
“Oh,” Hyunjin breathed out. He extracted himself from underneath Felix, moving to the side and then walking down the bed on his knees to meet Chan. 
Chan pulled him close, kissing him soundly. “You looked so good,” he murmured against his lips. 
“So did you,” Hyunjin replied. 
Chan gave him another kiss, and then turned him around, tapping between his shoulder blades to get him to bend over. Hyunjin went willingly, curving towards Felix, who had rolled over onto his back to watch.
“Hyunjin,” Felix mumbled, reaching out to cup his jaw. 
“Hi, baby,” Hyunjin whispered. “Did it feel good?”
Felix nodded, startling when Hyunjin stiffened as Chan pushed two fingers in at once. “Did I do good?” he asked. He stroked his thumb over the muscle in Hyunjin’s jaw.
Hyunjin nodded, a little unsteady. “Almost made me come,” he said. 
“Next time,” Felix said. 
Chan made quick work of it, opening Hyunjin up efficiently and a little roughly. He was still achingly hard, and he didn’t want to wait if he didn’t have to. As soon as it was easy for him to pump his fingers in and out of Hyunjin’s body, he withdrew. “Think you’re ready, Felix?” he asked, pinching Hyunjin’s hip when he made a noise of complaint at the loss of Chan’s fingers.
“Yes,” Felix answered over Hyunjin’s gasp of surprise.
Chan squeezed some lube out onto his palm, reaching forward and wrapping his hand around Hyunjin’s cock. “Move closer to Hyunjin, then,” he said. “Spread your legs.”
Felix did as he was told, trembling, while Chan stroked Hyunjin a few times to spread the lube. 
He let Hyunjin get settled first, watching as he pushed into Felix’s body with a moan. Felix was still loose, Chan was sure, but Hyunjin took his time anyway. Once he bottomed out, Chan spread his ass with one hand, using the other to guide his cock into Hyunjin’s hole.
“Oh, god,” Hyunjin forced out. Chan didn’t have to see his face to know how he looked—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and jaw locked, pink tongue almost poking out between his teeth. “Oh, fuck, I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Chan asked, bringing his hips back and then thrusting in again. Hyunjin cried out, nearly crumpling on top of Felix. 
“I’m already—already so close, I don’t—it’s too much,” Hyunjin stammered. Chan could hear a slight waver in his voice. 
“Come if you want,” Chan said impassively. “Felix and I will just use your body when you’re done.”
Hyunjin moaned, arms shaking. Felix brought a hand up to Hyunjin’s cheek. “He’s mean, isn’t he?” he commented. 
Hyunjin nodded. “So mean,” he whimpered as Chan pushed into him again and again, each thrust rougher than the last. Chan knew that his movements were causing Hyunjin to rock in and out of Felix, so there was really nothing he could do to stave off his orgasm.
Chan fucked him fast and cruel, happy that he didn’t have to hold back now. Hyunjin buried his face in the crook of Felix’s neck; Felix wrapped his arms around his little waist and blinked up at Chan over his shoulder. 
“Touch his chest,” Chan said to him. “He likes it when you play with his nipples.”
Felix nodded, pulling at hand between their bodies. Hyunjin convulsed with a moan. “Sensitive,” Felix murmured, pressing his lips to Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Gonna come?”
“Yes, fuck,” Hyunjin whined. He was shaking, and Chan could see the tension in his neck as he strained against the inevitable. A few seconds later, Hyunjin cried out as pleasure wracked his body. He rutted into Felix, panting.
Felix let out a quiet moan. “Fuck, it’s so wet,” he whispered. Hyunjin was still coming, body twitching between them. Felix’s eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows pinched. “‘M so full.”
Chan groaned in the back of his throat, the sound rumbling down through his chest. Hyunjin had gone limp beneath him, weak from his orgasm. Felix rubbed his back slowly; the sight of the two of them tangled beneath him sent a shock of desire through Chan’s body.
“He’s crying,” Felix announced. He sounded sympathetic, but not worried. 
“He likes dramatics,” Chan replied. Hyunjin sobbed in protest. “And he knows he’s a pretty crier.”
“You like it when I cry,” Hyunjin managed, lifting his head to make sure he was heard. Felix giggled airily.
Though Hyunjin sobbed and complained, he never once asked them to stop. Once he’d recovered a little, he reached down to stroke Felix, all while Chan continued to fuck him, chasing his own release. The three of them rocked together like that, Hyunjin still crying softly into Felix’s shoulder, and Felix’s breath picking up as the minutes stretched on. 
“Does it hurt?” Felix asked Hyunjin.
“Y-yes,” Hyunjin hissed. “I like it, though.” Chan glowed with pride. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but he liked that he could show Hyunjin off to Felix; he liked that he could share with both of them. He tightened his grip on Hyunjin’s hip.
Felix nosed at Hyunjin’s neck, impressively calm. “I think I’m gonna come again,” he said quietly, flicking his gaze up to Chan.
Chan grit his teeth. “I’m close,” he said. “Let me see you come.”
Felix nodded, shifting beneath Hyunjin. Chan could feel his arousal creeping over him, and he watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Felix threw his head back, little body twisting in the sheets as he came. Hyunjin kissed along his neck, arm pumping steadily as Felix panted out moans. 
The sight of it was enough for Chan; he felt his body tighten, and then he was coming, too, soft moans escaping his lungs with every breath as he slowed to a stop inside Hyunjin. He slumped over as he came down, unlocking his fingers where he had been clutching Hyunjin’s waist.
A few beats of silence passed between them. Chan could hear Felix breathing, could hear the way his breath was slowly returning to normal. He shifted accidentally and Hyunjin winced.
“Ow,” he complained quietly. Chan groaned and pulled out as swiftly and gently as he could. Hyunjin yelped anyway; Chan had to press a few fingers to his lips to stop himself from moaning when he saw his come leak out of Hyunjin’s hole. 
Hyunjin flopped to the side, pulling out of Felix in the process. His hair was a mess, but he was smiling. 
Chan sat back on his heels, looking over the two of them, a smile spreading over his face, too. “Are you happy?” he asked them. 
Felix opened one eye, nodding. “We can do it again, right?”
“I hope so,” Hyunjin said.
It was easy, opening their relationship to Felix. Chan and Hyunjin both adored him, and he settled into his new role in their lives quickly. It felt natural, almost. Of course they had Felix; of course he had them.
They waited a few months to have a conversation about what it would mean, and when they did, Felix surprised them.
“I know it might be selfish of me,” he said, “but I don’t want to be turned.” He looked back and forth between them. “I know that means you’ll—you’ll have to lose me, but I don’t want it. Is that—is that okay? I mean, can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Hyunjin said. “This isn’t a life I would ever want to force upon somebody.”
“It’s alright,” Chan added. “We won’t have to worry about that for quite some time, anyway. And I want you to be happy, Felix. We both do.”
“Okay,” Felix whispered. “I just—it’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I—I love you, both of you.”
Happiness, a new achingly sweet sort that Chan had never felt before, pierced him through his chest. “I love you too, baby,” he said softly.
“Love you,” Hyunjin echoed, wrapping Felix in a tight embrace. “We’ll just have to make use of the time we have.”
We have decades, Chan thought as Felix pulled him into the hug. Decades. It feels like forever.
Things were more exciting around the house, that much was certain. It wasn’t always all three of them together; Chan and Hyunjin still spent time alone with one another while Felix slept; other times, when Hyunjin was busy, Chan would take Felix into his lap and let him ride him until he couldn’t come anymore, until he was weak and shaking and teary-eyed. He also knew that Felix and Hyunjin spent plenty of time alone without him, but it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, they loved each other. And they had time.
Years passed; they celebrated Felix’s birthday each September. The seasons changed, and changed again. Hyunjin’s garden grew. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, maintaining the house and keeping each other company. Chan found he didn’t even miss his work so much anymore. Things here were good, and while he still resented the way he and Hyunjin had been pushed into this life, he knew he wouldn’t change it now. They got Felix out of it, and that alone was enough.
One particular day, he found himself alone. The house was quiet, and he assumed Felix and Hyunjin were keeping each other company elsewhere. That was fine; he was in the middle of checking over their air systems after a winter of keeping the heating on high so that Felix wouldn’t catch cold. He circled through the attic, dusting the vents, and then made his way down to the fifth floor, then the fourth. He snaked through spare bedrooms, planning to pause in his study to look a few things over before continuing.
But when he stepped through the door, he saw Hyunjin standing at his desk. Worse, he saw him holding one of his old journals.
He looked up when he heard Chan enter, and Chan saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and frightened. 
“Hyunjin,” Chan said, unsure what to do. 
“What is this?” Hyunjin asked quietly, holding up the journal. 
“I… I keep records,” Chan said weakly.
“I see that,” Hyunjin said. His voice was shaking. “Is it true?” he whispered. 
“Is what true?” Chan asked, hoping in vain that he was asking about something else, anything else.
“It wasn’t that other vampire that turned me,” Hyunjin said, and Chan’s heart plummeted straight down to the first floor. “It was you.”
“I did it to save you,” Chan said. “I—I asked you, if you wanted me to save you, and you said yes. I didn’t know—if I had known—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hyunjin flung the journal aside, striding across the room until they were just inches apart. Pain was all Chan could see in his eyes; it rolled off him in waves—hurt and betrayal and anger. “Why did you never tell me?”
“I didn’t—I thought it would be easier,” Chan said. “You believed it was him when you woke up, and I didn’t want to tell you the truth because at the time I thought—I thought you would be in my life for a few weeks, and then I’d never have to worry about it, and by the time it became clear that that wasn’t the case, it felt too late to tell you.”
“You did this to me,” Hyunjin whispered.
“Hyunjin,” Chan pleaded. “I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me!” Hyunjin shoved him aside, storming out of the room. After a moment of stunned silence, Chan hurried to follow him. 
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, nearly tripping as he rushed down the stairs after Hyunjin. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to hurt you. Hyunjin, I’m sorry!”
Hyunjin kept walking until he reached the first floor. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Chan, who froze where he was on the landing. “What else have you been keeping from me?” he asked. His voice was raw. “Centuries, Chan. Centuries we’ve been together. I love you. You said you loved me! How could you keep something like this from me?”
“Please,” Chan said, walking toward him on shaking legs. “That’s it. That’s all, I promise. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He’d reached the bottom of the stairs now. He held out a hand, tentative. “Please.”
Hyunjin smacked his hand away. “How can I forgive you? How can I trust you?” He’d raised his voice; his eyes were wild. “I can’t believe I spent all these years not knowing. Betrayed by you, betrayed by my own mind! I wish I had never met you! I wish you had let that vampire kill me!”
“Hyunjin.” Chan tried to take his hand, but Hyunjin grabbed him and yanked him to the side. Chan stumbled, caught by surprise, and when he looked up, Hyunjin was stalking toward him, one arm raised. 
Chan ducked, narrowly missing the blow, scrambling to the side. But Hyunjin followed. He was crying now, and it was all Chan could do to fend off his fists as Hyunjin wept and tried to hurt him. He wondered if he should even be defending himself; after all, Hyunjin had every right to be angry. It was all Chan’s fault, all of it. Chan closed his eyes, putting up an arm as Hyunjin reared back.
But the blow never came. Chan heard a sickening crunch, and a sharp gasp. His eyes shot open, and landed on the figure doubled over beside him. But it wasn’t Hyunjin.
“Felix!” Hyunjin cried. 
“Please stop fighting,” Felix said, voice impossibly small as he crumpled to the floor.
Chan’s ears were full of ringing. Panicked, he dropped to Felix’s side, gingerly rolling him onto his back. Felix wheezed wetly, and Chan took in the unnatural concavity in his side. 
“No,” Chan said, running a hand along the wound. “No, no, no.” He looked up at Hyunjin, who had collapsed onto his knees a few feet away, staring in wide-eyed horror, then back down at Felix.
“It’s okay, Chan,” Felix whispered.
“I,” Chan said, shaking. “I can save you.”
“No,” Felix said weakly. He coughed, and blood spilled over his lips. One of his ribs must have punctured a lung. “I don’t want it.”
“Felix,” Chan mumbled, desperate. “Please.”
“I don’t want it,” Felix repeated. His voice was so thin. “If you turn me, Chan, I will never forgive you.”
Chan drew in a sharp breath. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, I won’t.” He leaned close, taking one of Felix’s hands in his. Tears stung at his eyes, blurred his vision.
“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin had crawled closer; he took Felix’s other hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. Why did you step in?”
“Didn’t want to see you fight,” Felix said. He blinked slowly. “Not your fault,” he added. “You couldn’t have seen me coming.”
Chan searched inside himself for anger towards Hyunjin, but found none. Maybe he didn’t have the space for it. All there was was hurt and grief and longing; he gripped Felix’s hand tight and knocked his forehead against his shoulder. 
“I love you,” Hyunjin was whispering. “Felix, baby, I love you. I’m so sorry.”
“Love you, too,” Felix replied. “You and—and you, Chan.”
“I love you,” Chan mumbled, and then he was crying, tears falling fast and hard. “Felix.”
“Hey,” Felix said, He coughed again, a terrible wet noise. “You made me so happy. You—you know that? I was happy here, with you.”
“You made us happy, too,” Hyunjin said.
Felix drew another shaking breath. “It hurts,” he whimpered.
“Don’t talk, then,” Chan murmured. “It—it won’t hurt for long. It’ll be okay.”
“Chan,” Felix said softly.
“Baby?” No reply; the silence stretched on for a few beats too long, and Chan realized he could no longer hear the labored rattling of Felix’s breath. He reached up to check for a pulse in his neck, but felt nothing.
Hyunjin let out a terrible scream, but Chan barely heard him. He clung to Felix’s hand.
A finite amount of time seems like infinity when you don’t have to confront the end of it. Chan had pushed the ending away, refusing to worry about it, sure that he wouldn’t need to.  It felt like forever. It felt like eternity, until eternity only existed in the time it would take for Felix’s hand to go cold in his own. He thought they had so much time. They were supposed to have so much time.
“I love you,” Chan repeated. He knew Felix couldn’t hear him.
He sat back, and saw Hyunjin still bowed over Felix. The reality of it began to settle into his skin. It was just the two of them again. The little pocket of joy Felix had given them was gone, leaving them with next to nothing.
“Hyunjin,” Chan said. Hyunjin didn’t reply. “Hyunjin?” He touched his shoulder gently, but still got no response. Carefully, he reached over Felix’s body and lifted Hyunjin off his chest. 
His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping. His face still had a healthy pallor, and Chan quickly realized he must have passed out. Good, he thought. Reality is going to be hard for him to bear. 
Chan, with nothing else to do, carried Hyunjin to one of their rooms and laid him in bed. He wrapped Felix’s body in a white sheet. He cleared Felix’s old room, putting his trinkets away. He cleaned out the fridge, shelved clean dishes. They wouldn’t need them again. He prepared for Felix’s funeral and waited for Hyunjin to wake up. He did not cry. If he kept moving, he thought, maybe the grief wouldn’t hurt as much.
Hyunjin stayed unconscious for three days. A deathly sort of silence settled over the house. It felt wrong, in a way, to stay there, Chan thought—death had no place here, in the house where he and Hyunjin and Felix loved each other. But at the same time, it was fitting. Felix had brought warmth and happiness to this house. It would only make sense that all the good things would leave once he was gone.
Chan happened to be at Hyunjin’s bedside when he woke. Confusion clouded his face, but he recognized Chan right away. “What happened?” he asked hoarsely. “The last thing I remember, I think I was trying to find you.” Chan froze. “What is it?” Hyunjin asked. “You look troubled.”
“Hyunjin,” Chan began. “I think you’re confused.” He pushed Hyunjin’s hair off his forehead, an old habit to check for illness. But Hyunjin was cold as ever under his fingers. “Felix, he... you…”
Hyunjin frowned lightly. “Felix,” he said. “Who is Felix?”
He doesn’t remember, Chan realized, his thoughts racing. It was happening all over again—Hyunjin had forgotten, and Chan was left with a choice. 
“Nothing,” Chan said quickly. “Do you remember why you were trying to find me?”
“I think I wanted to hunt,” Hyunjin said, taking the distraction. “I was hungry.”
“Are you hungry now?” Chan asked. “I can bring you something.”
“Please,” Hyunjin said.
“One second.” Chan gave him a swift kiss on the forehead and then withdrew from the room. 
Hyunjin didn’t remember any of it. The last few years—gone, wiped from his memory, or shoved in some locked box in his brain. Chan wished his mind were half as merciful. If he could forget it all, he thought he would. 
Fine, he thought to himself as he dug out a frozen bag of blood and put it in the microwave to thaw. I’ll just leave it be. I’ll lock down my files and burn my old journals and make sure he never discovers them. We won’t have any more visitors, and that’ll be it. I will carry it, so Hyunjin does not have to. At least he’ll be spared the pain. It’ll be better this way.
Chan’s heart felt heavy in his chest. He brought the blood to Hyunjin in a cup, watched him drink. 
“So—what happened?” Hyunjin asked.
“Oh,” Chan said, “I found you unconscious in the foyer. I’m not sure.” 
Hyunjin handed the empty cup back to him. “Maybe I was just really tired,” he suggested. He didn’t seem too concerned. 
“Maybe,” Chan agreed. “Why don’t you rest some more? I’ll just be doing some chores. The sun just set, too; I might go hunt. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Hyunjin had already closed his eyes. “Alright. Don’t be too long.”
“I won’t.” 
Chan gathered up all his journals. He’d long since transferred all the data; he’d just been keeping them as a backup. But it was clear now they would do more harm than good. He gathered Felix’s body from where he’d carefully arranged him in the freezer. As quickly and quietly as he could, he slipped out the back door. 
He sprinted, just in case Hyunjin was looking out the window, not slowing until he reached the trees. Luckily, finding a place would not be hard. He rediscovered the same clearing by the stream, the place he had first seen Felix, some months ago. He had been planning to take Felix there on the next year’s anniversary of their meeting. 
He reached the clearing easily, setting first Felix’s body, then his journals, down on the ground. He gathered some wood, dry from the summer heat, then built and lit a pyre, using his journals to help grow the flames.
Finally, he picked up Felix’s corpse. He had begun to thaw, though only a little. It felt wrong to see him so cold. Felix had always been warm. 
Chan lay Felix down in the flames and stepped back quickly, using a bit of his magic to make the blaze stronger. Even with his power, it would take hours for the body to burn. He would have to hurry home before the sunlight became too strong. 
For the first time since Felix’s death, Chan allowed himself to weep. His shoulders shook with it; he watched the flames blur in his vision as the fire destroyed the beautiful shell that once held the boy he had loved so sweetly, so fiercely, so selfishly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He didn’t know what else he could say. He didn’t know if Felix could hear him. In a way, he hoped he couldn’t. He hoped he was already resting. 
Eventually the flames died, having run out of fuel. Chan swept the ashes into a simple metal box. He dug a grave, small and deep. It was easy work, with his supernatural strength, and only took a few minutes. He laid the box gently at the bottom, then covered it quickly. The sky had grown light; he would need to catch something and return soon. 
He did not leave a marker; Hyunjin might find it. Instead, he committed the spot to memory, determined to write it down once he got back. Another thing he must never forget; another thing he must carry.
He found two rabbits, killed them, and headed for home. The sun was on the rise; any longer, he realized as he stepped back inside, and he may have been in danger. But it was no matter now. He went to the kitchen, drained the rabbits, stored away the blood. He cleaned dirt from under his fingernails.
“Chan?” Hyunjin was in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket. “You were gone for a while, are you alright?”
“Yes,” Chan said, turning. “Just got a little distracted.”
Hyunjin stepped closer. “You smell like burning,” he said. 
“The sun is up,” Chan said, gesturing out the window at the pale yellow light. “I nearly got caught in it.”
“You should be more careful,” Hyunjin said, coming closer still, so that Chan had no choice but to open his arms to him. 
“I’m alright,” Chan replied softly, rubbing his back.
“I’m glad,” Hyunjin said. “Come rest with me.”
Chan curled up with Hyunjin in his arms, blankets a soft shield around them. They didn’t speak; Hyunjin traced patterns into Chan’s arm while Chan absently stroked Hyunjin’s hair. The sun continued to rise outside, flooding the room with rich light. 
The warmth didn’t reach Chan, though. It may as well have been bleak and grey. It felt like there was a stone in his chest—no, not a stone. A hole, a black void, one that had been easy to ignore when Felix was here to fill his days and nights, when his proximity to life had been so close it was almost like he had been alive himself. He had forgotten the loneliness, the muted terror, the gaping dread; he had even forgotten the wanting, the craving inside of him for something more, something he could never have. 
He knew that forgetting what had happened would not lessen the chasm, but at least it wouldn’t hurt as much. He envied Hyunjin—a bitter spike of emotion that pierced their love like a spear, twisted it, soured it like old blood. His ignorance would not keep him sane, but it would keep him content. Chan would be driven to a different kind of madness.
It’s the same now as it was then. Hyunjin has not remembered it. Chan has forced himself not to forget. He skims his records, keeping the truth of it fresh. The pain is sharp, but the blade has dulled over time. Chan knows that soon, resignation will replace the grief. 
He finds himself scanning back to his first entries. He drinks in the pictures of his friends, his mother, hungry. Things were simpler, even then. He wishes he had been killed with his mother in that house. He would not have so much tethering him here, now. Now, there is no escape. 
He hears familiar footsteps down the hall and quickly closes everything out, picking up the book on his desk and turning to a random page. 
“Chan,” Hyunjin says, and Chan looks up, pretending to be startled. He crosses the room to him as Chan puts the book down; Hyunjin kisses him chastely. “Oh,” he says when he pulls away. “You look sad.” His eyebrows pinch as he strokes Chan’s cheek with his thumb. 
Chan closes his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he says gently, so light he nearly convinces himself. “Just missing you.”
He leans in, kissing Hyunjin’s stomach over the fabric of his shirt, reaching out to wrap his arms around his waist so he can pull him into his lap. Hyunjin laughs breathily, letting Chan situate him, letting him place his limbs. 
At least there’s this. At least Chan has this. It is twisted and wrong, but it is all he has. Even after all these years, he is hardwired to find comfort in familiarity. And it’s alright, really. He loves Hyunjin. Doesn’t he? He’ll do anything to keep him, anything to protect him. That’s love, isn’t it?  He loves him, or at least remembers loving him—and, really, what’s the difference in the end?
For one moment, Felix’s sweet, bright eyes flash through his mind, and the nauseous tug in his stomach is back; the sick, dizzying wanting and bittersweet affection. It’s different from the way he feels about Hyunjin; this he knows with a final certainty. With Hyunjin, the connection is a habit now, ingrained in him; he knows his role and he plays it to perfection, every time. 
It doesn’t matter. He cares less and less about what is right—who will judge him for it, anyway? There is nobody left in this world that can. He pulls Hyunjin’s shirt open and mouths over his chest just to hear him moan. The spark it lights in him is dull, but he does not care about that, either. What matters is that this is what he has, and it will have to be enough. It is enough. 
He’s almost sure of it. 
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tinysupervicki · 12 hours ago
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Some sketches I did tonight! One of me in a hand (bc yes), my old oc couple Irene and Xiomi, and a happy Poppi 💖
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nubreaks · a day ago
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kedreeva · a day ago
I'm pretty sure at my work you literally can't not group house the mice unless you get an exception for one who is especially aggressive or they're momma mice.
We don’t need an exception/stop form for single housed BUT we DO have to put a marker on the cage that indicates the animal is single housed, what date single housing began, WHY it began (there’s a key for them, like B for breeding or A for attrition ie all the cage mates died of old age etc), and then we have to give them extra enrichment to make up for it. I knew a lab person once who used to prevent single housing her males by adding a very old female to their cage, one past breeding age and I thought that was a Very Good idea.
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atomicpanda101art · 2 days ago
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Had to draw my queen Hinata
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