Angel's Share Chapter 1

「Angel's Share」 · Chapter 1

PREY TELL ➥ Horrors of his past weighing too much on his heart, 'Lord Christopher' puts on a mask and sets out to find some answers with a companion he didn't ask for.

➥ 4.7k (20 min. avg. reading time)

⚠ — Violence (see masterlist for more before reading)

“Are you comfortable, my lord?” she asked with her eyes filled with worry to the brim, “We can stop if you wish.”

The voice interrupted the trance Chris had put himself in listening to the lullaby of the carriage. He knew she meant well since they had been on the road for a couple of days already, but every time she asked this question, it made his skin crawl. He might have been vulnerable, but he did not need the constant reminder.

“No need. I can hear the town in the distance; it should be another ten miles or so,” he responded blankly staring into the woods they passed by, “Do pay attention to your addresses, Abigail.”

He had told her time and time again that Lord Christopher Bahng was no more—he was priest Gabriel Adams as far as the rest of the world was concerned. Thank goodness, her frequent mistake was contained within the moments they were alone, but even after all these years, Abigail seemed to be having a hard time getting accustomed to it.

Or…

He couldn’t blame her for the force of habit, of course. Once a débutante herself, she must have had the proper ways of addressing engraved into her brain. Nevertheless, Chris’ façade was only intact by the stitch of her lips, however loose or tight it might be—one slip of the tongue and it would crumble like paper shoes in the rain.

And he couldn’t afford that.

“Of course, Master. My apologies,” Abigail immediately bowed her head in remorse, “I only wanted to ask since you’re touching your necklace again.”

And that would be his force of habit.

Every time he felt nervous, Chris would unwittingly touch the moonstone pendant, a gift from his late mother and his most valued possession in the world. He found infinite consolation in the lore she used to tell him about the clear, indigo gem. It made him believe in the small possibility that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t destined to die alone. He was still going moonbathing on full moon nights. To cleanse his soul and replenish the delicate pendant’s essence so that it could call out to his fated mate louder just in case it existed.

“My apologies for being stern,” he slightly nodded.

Abigail had been the only constant in his life for the past several years, but even she was going to leave one day. She had to. 

Everybody took their last breath at one point. 

While he was eternally grateful for her loyalty, the vermin called guilt was gnawing at Chris every time he looked at her. He wished he could forget what he had seen, but much to his dismay, it was not among his abilities. Remembering every minute detail in crystal clear images was the curse he had to live with till the end of his days.

She was called Theodora when they first crossed paths. Theodora Lockhart who had barely crossed the threshold of the delicate age of twenty. Even though she denied it, Chris knew in his heart of hearts that she had so much to look forward to back then—so many places to see, so many people to meet, and a whole fulfilling life ahead of her where she got to be loved, something he would never be able to provide. Even though she said she couldn’t be any more content, Chris knew she deserved much better than to be chained to him like this.

But you shouldn’t tempt fate.

One night, instead of going towards Cape Constance like he always did, he decided to go to the quiet riverbank for a stroll, permanently damaging his memory when he saw a beautiful flower about to be picked even though spring wasn’t supposed to arrive for another three months.

Kill threat.

She was terrorized out of her mind, shakily walking backwards towards the river with a dagger in her hand, attempting to intimidate the three men slowly approaching her, and failing miserably.

Kill threat.

But flowers were not supposed to be picked. They were meant to bloom in their beds and be admired only from afar, and anyone who even dared to think otherwise deserved to perish.

Kill threat!!!

He blacked out.

When he came back to his senses, Chris found himself panting over three still bodies dyed crimson all over. The young woman was frozen solid in one corner, naturally way too stunned to move after witnessing lord knows what.

Flower scared.

His mother had tried to warn him about this very instance, that there would come a day when he was no longer going to be able to restrain himself, but Chris had protested it with all his might. He wasn’t like that. He was the one in control of his body, not some goddamn barbaric urge. People lived with all kinds of hereditary maladies. He could be a survivor, too!

But even he had to admit three at once was too compelling of evidence for the dormant monster that inhabited him all along.

Flower scared. Hide.

He could feel his heartbeat everywhere. In his ears, in his throat, on his fingertips, at the soles of his feet… Even in the middle of a violent denial fit, all he could think about was that she was safe and that nothing had happened to her—whereas he had managed to change the course of her life in an entirely different way. There was no coming back from this. He wished he could offer some words of consolation to soothe her, but his blood-soaked state was standing in the way, let alone all the words eluding him. Without a shred of rational thought in his existence, he fled into the night. 

But fate was fate.

One Sunday morning, their eyes met again at the crowded prayer house, and if he physically could, Chris would die an instant death due to that acute onset panic. It wasn’t because there was an open triple homicide case with no leads, but rather because Master Kent was the only person alive privy to the nature of his condition—and by extension also Her Late Ladyship’s—and it simply had to stay that way. 

Priorities. 

Chris knew what humans were capable of doing when faced with ‘the unfamiliar’ — he had lost both parents to it even though his father had no fault in the matter other than falling in love once upon a time.

Curiously enough, even though the young woman seemed to recognize him, her gaze was painted with something much warmer rather than dread. She smiled at him from afar with a slight nod acknowledging his presence, but that wasn’t enough of a guarantee for Chris.

“Good day, miss. May I have a word?”

Taking advantage of the post-sermon crowd in the hall, he led the young woman to a corner far enough to have a conversation away from the prying ears, yet close enough to still be in plain sight in case her chaperone looked for her. Before he could open his mouth, however, she took the reins herself.

“Theodora Lockhart, my lord. Allow me to express my eternal gratitude to you,” she gracefully bowed before him and spoke in lowercase cursive letters, “I am forever in your debt with my life.”

Chris was convinced he was dreaming wide awake. He was prepared for a lot of things, even half expecting her to scream bloody murder in a room full of people, but gratitude? For becoming an utterly unhinged barbarian right before her eyes?

“I know this is asking too much but,” he began with his eyes on the marble floor, “It is I who would be most grateful if you did not divulge my… ailment.”

“Please rest assured no soul shall hear about it,” she quickly responded and bowed again to take her leave, “We shall meet again, my lord.”

It would be a lie if Chris said he never thought about the possibility of Theodora being his fated mate, but he knew she wasn’t. His mother had elucidated all the telltale signs to him, the scent being the most paramount of it all.

“But most importantly,” she would say, “You will just know, my sweet boy. You will know it in your heart without a shred of doubt.”

Not only was Theodora simply odorless to Chris, but he also felt nothing other than thankfulness towards her for keeping her promise to him. 

They indeed met again. They met many times. Almost every day, albeit unplanned. Theodora was not religious whatsoever, but she was frequenting the prayer house like it was a tea garden in the hopes that she would find him there. And she did every time without fail. 

Without knowing Chris had nowhere else to go.

Sometimes she wouldn’t even walk up to him to announce her arrival. Instead, she would sit on a stone bench at the very back of the large hall, just quietly watching him from afar. She had no idea where his interests lay for Chris was a man of few words. He seemed fond of books and quills, writing and writing for hours on end sometimes. What was he even scribbling this fervently? Tales? Poetry? Letters?

It was none of that. He was just trying to unjumble a knot on stacks of straw paper.

Christopher! Kent! Mast… Kent! Hide!!!

Those were the last words Chris heard his mother scream on the night of the fire. Out of complete instinct, he dashed to the prayer house and banged on the back door of the minister’s rectory as hard as he could to wake him.

“Master Kent, please!” he begged in tears, “If they find me, they’re going to kill me! Please open the door!!!”

The second that bolt was slid open, Chris threw himself into the old man’s arms and let out a wail that reverberated throughout the entire town.

“Quick,” Master swallowed all his tears and urged the young man to hold it together just for a little while, “Help me gather my belongings. We are leaving.”

Years had passed since the night he took refuge with the minister, but something was refusing to leave Chris’ mind like a splinter buried deep. A small portrait he found in the attic collecting dust shortly before the night of the fire. It depicted his mother in her usual elegant blues and another lady he had never seen before in a dark crimson gown. Her raven-black hair with the faintest iridescence cascading off her shoulders was in stark contrast to his mother’s soft caramel locks, but they both had the same pale complexion. That wasn’t even the detail Chris found most intriguing. 

It was the moonstone ring the nameless lady was wearing.

He didn’t care that this was the biggest leap of faith that promised nothing. Constantly feeling out of place was eating Chris alive, and if he had one chance at having a sense of normalcy with someone who was like him, he would much rather take it than waste away doing nothing.

“You knew my mother, Master Kent,” he asked the minister one day, “Certainly she must have told you something.”

Unfortunately, she hadn’t. Until meeting Her Ladyship, even the minister himself thought it was a myth, some spooky tale to scare children into good behavior. Nevertheless, he did cite several towns where Chris could go looking, places merely whispered in rumors with no guarantee to find anything.

But still better than nothing.

There wasn’t much to leave behind in this town. Not much to miss. If anything, the decision to leave came with a side of relief and a throat-burning hope garnish, which he was trying his utmost best not to hold onto. Yet, there was still one person to bid farewell to before he set out.

“Thank you for your companionship all this time, Theodora,” Chris bowed his head as he was seeing her off one last time, “I will miss having a presence around me.”

“Are you going somewhere, my lord?” the young woman leisurely asked as if her life was not flashing before her eyes. 

“Yes, I’m leaving town tomorrow,” he acknowledged, “To see if I have anybody left in this world I have blood relations with.”

“For quite a long while, I suppose.”

“For good.”

Her marvelous performance of dexterously hiding the way her heart sank to her stomach deserved all the praise. Brava, indeed. But she only received this minuscule short notice? After all this time? After all they shared?

No matter. Theodora Lockhart was nothing if not a quick thinker on her feet.

“Surely you’re not going alone,” she posed a pseudo-question she already knew the answer to.

“Why yes, I am.”

“Then I would like to join you.”

Much like the very first time they came face to face, Chris was looking at her utterly dumbfounded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“This journey of yours will certainly be tiresome,” she began arguing her defense, “I would like to volunteer myself to be your companion along the way.”

You can’t go, Christopher. You can’t leave without me.

“I think there might have been a misunderstanding,” Chris picked his words as straightforwardly as possible, “I was never courting you, Theodora. I have no interest in such matters, nor can I overtake the responsibility of someone else.”

“I’m aware. Thus the term volunteer.”

She wasn’t taking no for an answer, looking at him like he was the one out of his mind reacting so strongly to a mundane request.

“Let me make this quite plain,” he placed his hands on her shoulders, “I am not about to knock on the Viscount’s door and ask his permission to take his daughter with me with no marital bond between us.”

It didn’t matter if this was in the middle of a dispute. Time stopped. Her heart was about to give out for this was the very first time her prince charming was touching her. She could die today and she would die happy.

“I’m not asking you to,” she replied with perfect poise instead.

“Are you hearing how highly inappropriate this is?!” he started laughing hysterically.

“Father shall have no say in what I wish to do with my life,” she firmly stood her ground, “I’m the one who has to live it.”

“You are a well-versed woman of sound mind, Theodora.” 

“Yes.”

“Then why the hell are you doing this?!”

“Because the burden you put on me is weighing too heavy on my heart!” 

Never once did she raise her voice at Chris before, and she hated doing it, but the outburst seemed to have the intended effect. It was slowly disarming his guard, allowing her to seep through the cracks. She had to play this just right to secure her place in his life.

However long forever might be.

“Don’t you understand, my lord? This is fate,” she took one careful step towards him, “I’m destined to serve you.”

“Serve me?” his face immediately contorted, “N–no such thing is necessary.”

“Just allow me to repay my debt. This is how you will set me free,” she held his hands, almost teary-eyed in make-believe agony.

“There is no debt to be settled.”

“But there is!” she raised her voice again, “You will be all alone, and I’m the only one who… who knows you. I can help you with whatever you need. I promise I don’t want anything from you in return. Just what can I do to convince you?”

A fantastic question Chris never had to answer before. Nobody ever asked him what he wanted. As long as he’d known himself, there was always a set of rules to follow, and free will was never an option. Now there was this woman in front of him, asking him, begging him to let her accompany him just to take care of him. Just so he would not be alone in his quest for… whatever was ‘not hate’.

“Do you understand what you’re giving up?” he asked in an eerily calm tone, “You will never have a family.”

“I know what my wish entails.”

“You can never have a life with me,” he emphatically declared, “I’m taking a different name. I won’t have any money. I have to live in the shadows.”

“I am aware.”

“I will be living as a priest, Theodora. Any company I might have will have to live accordingly, as well.”

“I understand.”

Chris was about to lose it due to utter exasperation. How come everything was a yes? What was so hard to understand about what a despicable creature he was?

“I live with venom inside me,” he clenched his jaw hard and started spitting his words through his teeth in a fast, crescendo voice, “My heart rots with murder. I will hurt you one of these days. I’m eternally doomed with this ailment. Why are you not SEEING THIS?!”

Theodora was expecting to be struck in the face, but the most beautiful man she ever laid her eyes on just fell on his knees and broke down crying. She knelt in front of him and found the courage to hug him for the first time as she offered her shoulder to literally cry on.

“Because I care for you,” she caressed his hair, deliriously happy, “Please do not call it an ailment. I wouldn’t change who you are for the world.”

She let him cry his heart out on the cold marble floor, not moving an inch for fear that he might let go of her. Once Chris calmed down, she gently wiped the tears pooling in the corners of his big brown eyes with her silk handkerchief.

“I shall leave my name behind as well then,” she resolutely affirmed, “Today onwards it’s Abigail Langdon. You would agree the name Lockhart is too telltale anyway, would you not?”

“This is too much, Theodora.”

“It’s Abigail, and I made up my mind,” she helped him rise to his feet, “I will be ready to depart whenever you deem appropriate.”

In the blink of an eye, this woman assumed the role of a minister’s aide, left her entire life behind, and disappeared into nothingness with him as if she never existed.

Chris had said ‘too much’ that day, and years later it didn’t change. There were days it almost felt like he trapped himself in a loveless arranged marriage. There were days he was infinitely glad Abigail was with him. There were days he wanted to be far, far away from her, and there were days he wished he could be a little closer to her. 

Dedicating your life to somebody to that extent for absolutely nothing in return… For years. 

That kind of devotion was indeed too much.

It took years for Chris to finally admit that his position in Abigail’s eyes was nowhere near a dear friend, and as time passed by, it seemed to be devolving into something even more unsettling. Almost as unsettling as his true colors. She was agreeing to quite literally anything Chris asked for, even when he was saying utterly outrageous things to test the waters. A true friend should have been able to tell it to your face when you and rationality were miles apart, however…

“If we cannot find food for you today, you might have to share a kill with me.”

“Of course, Master.”

“Are you quite alright, Abigail?”

“Yes, Master. Why?”

Why? Why?!

The address was meant to convey ‘master of knowledge’, a characteristic all priests simply had to possess, yet somewhere along the way, she seemed to have misattributed it to mean a master-servant bond between them. It was his fault. The things she knew about him, the things she was witnessing day after day… He was to blame for her slow descent into a state of apparent delusion.

If only he saw the sinister smile on her face when he wasn’t looking. If only he knew how much pleasure she was taking in abusing his blind spot with all the steps she was meticulously calculating. His trust. His kindness. His agony.

If only…

Abigail knew full well that Chris despised having to kill and would avoid it for as long as he could. There were days he would wait until he was parched. Until it was unequivocally necessary for him to… 

To feed.

It was the perfect opportunity for her to volunteer herself yet again, as his very own thrall this time. She was always with him, wasn’t she? If he fed on her reasonably often, he wouldn’t have to wait for days on end to eventually kill. It made so much sense!

That first time Abigail’s heart was about to jump out of her chest.

It hurt, yes, but it was supposed to hurt. There was supposed to be blood. He was so gentle with her, careful not to inflict any pain besides a sting that would hopefully turn endurable.

She didn’t care for any of that.

After a certain threshold, he was moaning against her skin, his fingertips sinking into her supple flesh, and Abigail could swear she noticed a strain in his crotch. He liked this. He loved this. He was aroused by this, and it was all because of her.

The reason did not matter one bit — in her head, Chris did break her in that night, and it was everything she ever pictured it to be and then some. Now she was going to spend the rest of her life losing her virginity to him over and over again, and that was a lifetime’s worth of bliss by itself.

She had offered it many times. To permanently change her so that he would have someone of his kind with him. That was what he set out for in the first place after all, but Chris couldn’t bear the thought of making her endure his personal hell, certainly not when he was the enabler of what he believed was the biggest mistake of her life. And also…

Well…

Abigail had tagged along to allegedly pay her infamous debt, but Chris felt like he was the one paying back in spades for some reason. It was getting a bit taxing, but unfortunately, it seemed too little too late to break himself free of these chains now.

The sky was already painted pitch black when they arrived at the rectory. A young man was sitting on the stone windowsill with his legs stretched and a thick book in his hand. He finally put it down when he heard the horses approaching. 

“Welcome, Master Adams!” he greeted the newcomers, “We have been looking forward to your arrival.”

The second they got off the carriage, Chris’ nostrils were fully invaded with a sweet smell. Either a passerby lady had indulged in too much perfume, or somebody was planting an entire flower field in that very second.

“Not much is going on in Luneborough I presume,” he quipped with tired eyes, “What is this scent in the air?”

“Moon vines, Master. These beauties are where Luneborough gets her name,” the young man touched the large green leaves that hugged the iron fence, hiding lovely white flowers under them, “And we call those over there Lady of the Night. They are night-blooming jasmines.”

“What’s your name, my good man?” Chris asked the way too awake fellow at this godforsaken hour with a fond smile on his face.

“Jeongin, sir.”

“Please, anything more than my minister title and I’m walking to the Duke’s chambers to complain,” Chris threatened semi-jokingly, “Say, where can I get the best whiskey in Luneborough, Jeongin?”

“Whiskey?” he furrowed his brows seemingly to browse his memory, “Well, the gentlemen at our establishment always praise the house whiskey, so I would say La Pleine Lune.”

“Is that a gentlemen’s club?”

“Well, you could say that,” Jeongin’s features morphed into three kinds of mischievous, “Do ask for a glass of Cinq Étoiles. Our Madame Maxime makes it herself.”

“Duly noted,” Chris discreetly handed the man a generous tip for his troubles, “Thank you very much for waiting for us this late. Much appreciated.”

After the trunks were carried inside, Chris and Abigail sent Jeongin on his way and entered their new residence for the foreseeable future. It was quite late, and a good night’s sleep was long overdue, but Abigail hesitantly approached Chris’ door frame instead of heading to her own room.

“It– It has been three weeks, my lord,” she informed him, “Should you require sustenance…”

Chris briefly listened to his body, and only after he was convinced he would feel sickly faint the next morning did he silently nod. He didn’t like talking about it, much less bringing it up himself, so if Abigail didn’t remind him, he wasn’t going to feed, period. He knew it hurt her, and he hated hurting her.

He opened his trunk to find the little tin of ointment first, then carefully applied it on her neck. She wasn’t entirely sure whether the goosebumps were because of the cold soothing balm, the anticipation, or simply Chris’ touch.

“Look to your right,” he soullessly instructed and gave his hand for her to hold, “Squeeze if I hurt you too much.”

The pattern never changed throughout all the years that he was doing this. First, he would slowly graze his teeth on the skin to let her get used to the feeling, and once his fangs were fully out, he would slowly sink them into her flesh and start feeding, extremely mindful to go slow both to prevent an accident and not to get too lightheaded too fast.

That particular night, however, just one sip was enough to send a shockwave to his head like a sudden headrush. Chris had no idea he had starved himself to a state of aridity just to avoid causing hurt, very much hurting himself in the meantime.

Abigail, on the other hand, was about to combust with what she was experiencing for the first time.

His sounds of fulfillment while feeding were not unprecedented, but never like this. Never this uncontained like something in his soul masterminded a spectacular jailbreak. He was moaning so loudly that Abigail was convinced this was indeed what fucking Chris would feel like if he sneaked into her room one night. She would welcome it. God, she would embrace it with open arms and never let go. With each grunt getting louder, she was surrendering a bit more, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

But the moment her nails scratched his skin, a rabid urge awakened within Chris.

Kill thrall.

He sank his teeth deeper and started sucking harder, holding her in place with a firm grip around her waist. She was desperately grinding against his leg for a bit of friction. Just a little bit. He didn’t have to do anything; she could get there herself. No matter.

“It’s alright,” she egged him on, “Go on. Satiate yourself.”

Kill thrall.

The nightscape of a riverbank suddenly appeared behind his closed eyes. Three men were walking towards a dagger with almost scorning smirks. His ears were maddeningly ringing, blocking every other sound in the universe, and his palms were getting sweaty.

“Hurt me more, Christopher.”

Kill thrall!!!

He shoved Abigail away to barely save himself from blacking out again. Bloody fangs still out, eyes lost color, panting like he ran all the way to Luneborough, and looking like the corporeal manifestation of all the nightmares seen by everybody that night.

It had been such a long while since he heard that maniacal voice inside his head, even a more unwelcome visitor than the lynchers of his parents, and Chris found himself on the verge of going properly insane.

“Leave,” he instructed Abigail with a whisper-like voice.

“My lord…”

“LEAVE!”

She scurried out of the room with drops of fear in her eyes for the first time. Something she should have exhibited all along like the rest of her kind. Chris dragged himself to the lavatory to his right and dunked his head under cold water until his sanity came back.

No matter how far he traveled, how many masks he wore, and how much he pretended to blend in, some truths about him were never going to change. 

Before he was a priest, he was a nomad. 

And before he was a nomad, he was a monster.

✉ Enjoyed this? Share your thoughts with me! It would also be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Welcome to Luneborough!

This is my first paranormal work ever, so I'm a bit... on edge. It's a variation of a manuscript I have been working on for months, and it's quite special to me. I really hope it reaches you exactly how much. Full future chapters will probably be linked to my personal website (no ads, no signups, just for content protection).

A very special thank you to;

· @straywrds for being my sanity guardian and forever beta reader, for her valuable input & insights—not just for this but quite literally every project I ever work on, and for encouraging me to have faith even when I'm convinced there is nothing left to believe in.

· You. The all-encompassing you that is Y/N, the star of all my stories. The you that has ever read anything of mine and felt compelled to talk to me about it rather than staying in the shadows. For letting me have a sense of community and purpose. For choosing kindness and being by my side. I hope you know that you're in my thoughts every time I start sketching the bare bones of an idea.

This is dedicated to you.

「© 2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

➥ Tagging — Happy to! Please only ask to be tagged if you will be meaningfully interacting. Thank you!

If you have been tagged below, it's because you have commented under the main masterlists (for Chris and for Hyunjin) and/or the story masterlist. Feel free to ask to be removed.

· @changbinniesjutndae @soheecore @changbinheart @queenmea604 @xocandyy

· @emily505 @sunwie @lynlyndoll @birdiebangsworld @sai-kida134

· @compersian @imseungminsgf @myyohmyuohmyy @warpedspirit @peachyciroq

· @poody1608 @wildtokay @junieshohoho @rairacha @ihrtantn

· @guiltycoco @kibs-and-bits @leeknowyah @bieubiackfalry @ivydoesit23

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· @stayceebs97 @shiningnono @skzfelixlove @jetblackbelle

With a sleepy s/o

Pairing: skz Ot8 × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: headcanon, fluff, established relationship

Request: skz with a very sleepy s/o, kinda like han but worse lol.

Warnings: none

A/n: pink lee know can save lives | important highlight

Bang Chan

No one likes it more than him, trust me. He just loves it so much whenever you start to feel a bit drowsy and then sleep in his shoulder/lap. Partially because he thinks you're adorable when sleeping but partially because he feels he can protect you when you're vulnerable like that. He really really likes it

Lee Know

Please stop falling asleep all the time, his camera roll can't take it anymore. Seriously though, every time you sleep he takes thousands of pictures in all possible angles. He says it's because he wants to blackmail you but in reality he just finds you extremely adorable (won't admit that tho)

Changbin

He has like this sixth sense where he just knows you're about to fall asleep, no matter where he is. He physically needs to be like your pillow for whenever you're in this state. Always has a proud smile for when he manages to be there when you need him. Asks for the boys to take pictures of you both like that (they can't handle it anymore)

Hyunjin

The first time you fell asleep next to him he was a bit in shock, but now that he is used to it, he welcomes you with open arms whenever your eyes start to close. He is really satisfied with how you trust him enough to sleep around him, it never fails on making him smile

Han

We just know y'all sleeping together everywhere no matter what time it is. The world could be potentially ending but y'all would be cuddled up and sleeping on the nearest sofa. Honestly it's expected for you both to end up like this after a while, but it's also very cute of you ngl

Felix

Another one who sees this as an opportunity to cuddle everywhere, even if he doesn't feel sleepy in the slightest. He just really enjoys holding you while you dream. The boys took a picture of you both like that once to try to tease Felix but it didn't work at all, as he was extremely happy about it lmao

Seungmin

Also has a lot of pictures of you sleeping but you'll never know that because no way on earth he is showing you that, he might as well die of embarrassment. You also always wake up covered by his jacket/sweatshirt, warm and cozy.

I.N

Most likely to have you sleeping as his phone wallpaper and the least likely to change it. He's so relieved you can't see him when you're sleeping because he always gets this huge lovesick smile on him, he'd probably combust if you could see that.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: you give them flowers

Thank you for reading 🩷

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Fic idea based on the song below:

Strangers to Lovers; both have experienced deep loss of some one close. I'm not sure which member suits the idea best.

What do you all think?

Listen to this while you contemplate everything

I'm back to talk about Felix and clamps and plugs.

I definitely think this is him. On you. On himself. Depends on whether it's mxm or Felix x reader.

He has a whole range of plugs (a set for himself and a set for you).

Just think of the fun you can have with an inflatable plug.

He fucks with them but also uses them to prep.

I feel like with Felix, anything that he does to you he equally wants done to him too.

So yes nipple clamps. He’ll attach them to your nipples and watch your reaction. He gets so hard as your back arches off the bed and arousal drips from your core and he cannot stop himself from fucking you.

But he gets even harder when you attach the clamps to his nipples. He leaks and whimpers and when you ride him at the same time it blows his mind - and he blows his load deep inside you without warning.

And if you’re both wearing nipple clamps… well it gets noisy because you’re both highly sensitive and the smallest of touches sets you both off moaning and sobbing for release.

I love how you mention a set of plugs for you and him 🤪. I’m imagining you’ve got a shelf each for them, or you keep them in your respective bedside drawers. He purchased various sizes, so you can work your way up to his cock… or work him up to one. And he buys lube in bulk btw! All different flavors!

Can you imagine Felix’s reaction when he gets reader ready though: lying on the bed, a little lace collar with a bell around her neck, clamps attached to her nipples, a plug in her ass, white stay ups, and one of those vibrators you can attach you her clit.

She’s dripping wet. So pretty for him. It’s endearing how his heart bursts. He smiles brightly as he looks down on her, even though she’s a mess from the stimulation. How can he seem so sweet and like sunshine when he’s doing these kinky things?

And oh my god an inflatable butt plug the 8 inch one 😱 that’ll certainly have you both teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain (side note: I feel like Sungie and Seungmin would enjoy one of these…for different reasons to each other 😈)

Girl, What are you doing to me! Felix is meant to be in my friend zone!!!! Now I’m imagining all this and I’m going feral!!!!👆👆👆

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God dammit what are these wet things on my face ...

NAT! Can you write Minho and Chan and Felix with Chan feeling left out. Minho and Felix are very close and he can't compete

Shadows Between Us

Pairing: Minchanlix

Word Count: 2984

Warnings/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, loneliness, fluff, comfort

A/N: Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!🖤

Felix, Chan, and Minho had once thought they’d stumbled upon a perfect balance in their unconventional relationship. Each brought something unique, creating a tapestry of emotions and experiences woven together with threads of love, respect, and companionship. But lately, Chan couldn’t shake the feeling that the balance was tipping away from him, leaving him dangling in an abyss of loneliness.

Chan had fallen hopelessly in love with Felix and Minho. They were his world, his reason for waking up each morning with a smile. The way Minho’s laughter could light up a room, the warmth of Felix’s touch – these were the anchors in Chan’s life. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice the growing intimacy between Felix and Minho, a bond that seemed to deepen each day, often leaving him on the periphery.

It wasn’t as if they were excluding him intentionally. Chan knew that. But the little moments they shared, the inside jokes, the quiet laughter – these things were beginning to gnaw at Chan’s heart. He often came home to find them entwined on the couch, sharing whispered words and soft kisses that felt like a sharp blade against his chest. They’d glance up at him with warm smiles, but Chan could see the connection between them, one that he feared he would never fully be a part of.

One evening, Chan returned home to a scene that had become all too familiar. Felix and Minho were cuddled up on the couch, Felix’s head resting on Minho’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined. The television was on, but their focus was entirely on each other. Chan stood at the door, hesitating, before forcing a smile and announcing his presence.

“Hey, guys,” he said, his voice betraying none of the turmoil inside him.

Felix looked up first, his face lighting up. “Chan! You’re back!” He disentangled himself from Minho and walked over to give Chan a quick hug. Minho waved from the couch, his eyes twinkling with contentment.

“Yeah, I just finished up at the studio,” Chan replied, hugging Felix back. The contact was brief, too brief, and Felix was back on the couch in seconds, resuming his place beside Minho.

Chan sat in the armchair across from them, pretending to be engrossed in his phone. The conversation between Felix and Minho continued, flowing around him like water around a stone. They laughed about something that had happened earlier, some joke Chan wasn’t privy to, and he felt a pang of envy. He wanted to be a part of that laughter, to share in the joy that seemed reserved just for the two of them.

As the night wore on, Chan’s heart grew heavier. The three of them eventually made their way to bed, and Chan found himself lying awake in the dark, listening to the soft whispers and muffled laughter coming from Felix and Minho’s side of the bed. He turned away, staring at the wall, feeling more like an intruder than a partner.

Days turned into weeks, and the pattern continued. Chan’s insecurity festered, feeding off every little moment he felt excluded. He began to scrutinize himself, wondering what was wrong with him. Was he not enough? Did Felix and Minho love each other more than they loved him? The thoughts spiraled, leaving Chan feeling like a ghost in his own home.

One particularly lonely evening, Chan sat on the sofa, working on his laptop. Felix was next to him, scrolling through his phone. Felix leaned against Chan’s shoulder, the warmth of his body a small comfort. For a moment, Chan felt a glimmer of hope, a tiny flicker of belonging. But it was extinguished as soon as Minho walked through the door.

Minho looked exhausted, his face drawn with fatigue. He offered a tired smile to both of them. “I’m going to bed. Long day,” he mumbled, heading straight to the bedroom.

Felix didn’t hesitate. He stood up, stretching slightly. “I’ll join you. Night, Chan,” he said casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Chan watched them go, the door closing softly behind them. He was left alone in the living room, the silence pressing down on him like a physical weight. The sense of abandonment was overwhelming, a crushing force that made it hard to breathe. He put his laptop aside and curled up on the sofa, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

He felt sick to his stomach, the loneliness wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. The thoughts that had plagued him for weeks came rushing back with renewed intensity. They don’t need you. They love each other more. You’re just an extra.

The pain was too much to bear. Chan buried his face in a cushion, finally letting the tears flow. He felt worthless like he didn’t belong in the relationship that had once been his greatest source of joy. The love he had for Felix and Minho now felt like a burden, a painful reminder of how excluded he felt. It was a painful reminder of what had once been his and was now slipping from his fingers.

He lay there for what felt like hours, the darkness of the living room matching the darkness inside him. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound from the bedroom. Each sound was a reminder of what he was missing, of the connection he feared he would never have.

Chan didn’t know how much longer he could endure this. The loneliness was eating away at him, making him question everything about himself and his place in their relationship. He loved Felix and Minho with all his heart, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing them, that they were drifting further and further away from him.

The days passed in a blur of routine and heartache. Chan found solace in his work, burying himself in tasks to avoid thinking about the growing distance between him and his partners. But no matter how busy he kept himself, the loneliness was always there, lurking in the background, waiting to pounce the moment he let his guard down.

One evening, after another long day at the studio, Chan came home to find Felix cooking dinner. The smell of something delicious filled the air, and for a moment, Chan felt a spark of happiness. He walked into the kitchen, trying to mask his emotional turmoil with a smile.

“Hey, Lix. Smells amazing in here,” Chan said, leaning against the counter.

Felix looked up, his face lighting up with a smile. “Hey, babe! I’m making your favorite. Thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

Chan’s heart warmed at the gesture. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone. They sat down to eat together, the atmosphere light and filled with easy conversation. For a little while, Chan felt like things were back to normal.

But the moment was fleeting. Minho came home, looking as tired as ever. He greeted them with a nod and a brief smile before heading straight to the bedroom. Felix’s eyes followed him, and after a few minutes, he excused himself from the table, leaving Chan to finish his meal alone.

Chan’s appetite vanished. He pushed his plate away and stared at the empty seat across from him. The loneliness crashed over him in waves, stronger than ever. He felt like a stranger in his own home, a third wheel in the relationship that had once brought him so much joy. Shit, he didn’t even feel welcome in his own bed anymore.

He cleaned up the kitchen mechanically, his mind racing with thoughts of inadequacy and despair. By the time he finished, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He sank to the floor, his body shaking with silent sobs. He felt utterly broken, convinced that he was the problem, that something was wrong with him.

The ache in his chest was unbearable. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get out of here and-.

“Channie, love?” Minho’s voice ripped him from his thoughts. Chan looked up at him, tears freely falling from his eyes, lips shaking at his desperate try to hold back his sobs. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, getting down on his knees next to him. Minho reached out for him, pulling back his hand as if he burned himself when Chan flinched away. His heart sank to his stomach, and he couldn’t quite read the main emotion in Chan’s eyes. “Felix?” he called out worriedly. “Can you come here for a moment, please?”

Felix made his way over, cursing softly at him for getting him out of bed again. He stopped in his tracks, seeing them on the floor and realizing that Chan was crying. “Heyyy, babe, what happened?” Felix asked, immediately getting down next to him. He cupped his face, leaving Chan no time to pull away from him, and uselessly wiped his tears off. “Channie, what is it? You can tell us, no matter what. We love you, you know that, right?”

A sob escaped him at that, and he shook his head, trying to get away from him as well. He needed them so badly, needed their comfort, their love, but his brain knew they were the source of his misery. 

“Hyung, did we do something wrong?” Minho asked after a moment, searching his eyes. “If so, please tell us.”

“Just leave me alone,” Chan pressed out, wiping his face messily with the sleeves of his sweater. “You’re good at that.”

Felix’s heart dropped to his stomach at that last part. “What?” he asked quietly, watching him stunned as Chan pushed himself off the floor.

“Fuck off, seriously,” Chan shook his head, making his way to the bedroom. He just needed his already packed travel bag and keys for now. He needed to get out of here, now.

Felix watched him leave quietly, tears in his eyes as he felt unable to move. Minho blinked softly as Chan left without any further word, slamming the front door closed. He pushed himself off the floor, telling Felix he’d be back and grabbed his own sets of keys, closing the door more gently than Chan had. “Channie!” he said firmly, watching his boyfriend throw his travel bag onto the backseat. “Chan, hey, what’s the plan here?”

“I need space…actual space,” Chan said, slamming the door closed.

“Where?” he asked firmly.

“Some hotel, I don’t know,” he shrugged, fumbling for his keys. 

Minho nodded gently. “If that’s what you need, okay, but I’m driving,” he said, not accepting anything else and getting into the car. Chan slipped into the passenger’s seat quietly, and for a moment, none of them said a word. “Can you please tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” he told him quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“No,” Chan shook his head, stubbornly looking outside and telling him the name of the hotel. 

Minho hummed in response and started driving. The ride was quiet and Minho’s stomach was cramping up painfully as his thoughts went spiraling. Chan felt guilty for not telling him, tears filling his eyes, knowing that Minho was driving him because he knew Chan wasn’t able to, being so emotional.

Minho quietly made his way inside, grabbing Chan’s bag and walking up to the counter. He booked him a room and paid for it before Chan was able to say a single word. Minho grabbed the keys and nodded toward the elevators. “Come on,” he said gently.

Chan remained silent on their way up to the room, wondering when Minho would finally leave and let him rot in self-despair. Minho unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and went into the room, checking it for hidden cameras and ensuring everything was in place. Chan watched him quietly, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

“You still don’t want to talk?” he asked quietly, putting down Chan’s bag as the older shook his head. He made his way over and stopped in front of him. Chan met his eyes and almost choked on his breath, seeing the sheer pain and anxiety clouding his orbs. “Please call me if you need anything, okay? Promise me.”

“Okay,” Chan nodded quietly.

Minho sighed and cupped his face, his eyes shining suspiciously. “I won’t push you, and please take as much time as you need…but if you’re ready, come back home?” he asked, his voice strained at his attempt not to cry as well. He leaned down and kissed his forehead softly. “I love you, Channie, okay? So so much,” he whispered, and that’s what it took for him to break. Chan buried his face in his stomach, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. A sob rippled through his body, and Minho pulled him into a strong hug, his hand running down his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Channie, it’s okay, I got you.” Minho sat down next to him and pulled him into his lap. 

Chan curled up in his arms, holding onto him, scared that he’d leave him. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

Minho shook his head and buried his face in his hair, a silent tear running down his cheek. “Shh, it’s okay,” he said softly, hugging him tightly. “Can I tell Lix where we are, baby, or just us?” he asked gently.

“Call Lix,” Chan nodded, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Okay,” Minho nodded, relieved, gently rubbing his back.

-

Felix practically ripped the door open as soon as the keycard worked and rushed inside the room. He hesitated once he reached them, still unsure if Chan would even want him near. “Channie, I’m so sorry, whatever this is, I am so so sorry, babe,” he rambled, his voice hoarse from crying himself. “Please just give us a chance to fix this and-.”

Chan looked up from where he had been buried in Minho’s arms, and one glance at Felix was enough to tell him he felt like shit. He reached out for him timidly and Felix let him, joining them on the bed. Chan’s hand trembled as he clutched Felix’s, trying to convey the depth of his pain and confusion.

Felix’s eyes were filled with tears as he took Chan’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I didn’t realize you felt this way,” Felix whispered, his voice cracking. “I never wanted you to feel alone, Channie.”

Minho held Chan tightly, his other hand reaching out to brush Felix’s hair back. “We need to understand what’s been going on in your mind, Chan. We can’t fix this if we don’t know what’s broken,” he said softly.

Chan took a shuddering breath, trying to find the words. “I’ve felt so alone,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I see the bond between you two, and it’s beautiful, but it makes me feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I love you both so much, but I’ve felt like a ghost in our relationship.”

Felix’s tears spilled over, and he leaned in to kiss Chan’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, Chan. We never meant to make you feel like that. You’re just as important to us as we are to each other. We love you so much.”

Minho nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow. “We need to do better, Chan. We need to make sure you feel loved and included. We can’t lose you, not like this.”

Chan’s sobs subsided a little, the warmth of their words seeping into his heart. “I don’t want to leave. I just want to feel like I belong, like I’m not an extra in my own relationship.”

Felix cupped Chan’s face, his thumb gently wiping away the tears. “You do belong, Channie. We’ve just been so caught up in each other that we didn’t see how it was affecting you. But we’re here now, and we’re going to make it right.”

Minho pressed a kiss to the top of Chan’s head. “We’re in this together, all three of us. We’ll make sure you know how much you mean to us, every single day.”

Chan nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain. “Okay,” he whispered. “But we need to talk, all of us, really talk about how to make this work.”

Felix and Minho exchanged a look of determination. “We will,” Felix promised. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

The three of them stayed like that for a while, holding each other, the silence filled with the unspoken promise of better days to come. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they were willing to put in the effort, to fight for the love they shared.

The next few days were a period of healing and rebuilding. They talked openly, laying their emotions bare. Chan expressed his feelings of exclusion, while Felix and Minho listened with hearts full of regret and resolve. They made a conscious effort to include Chan in their moments of intimacy, to make him feel cherished and loved.

One evening, as they lay together in bed, Felix turned to Chan, his eyes soft with love. “Thank you for giving us a chance to make this right. We’re stronger together, and we’ll make sure you never feel left out again.”

Minho nodded, his hand resting on Chan’s chest. “You’re the heart of this relationship, Chan. Without you, we’re incomplete.”

Chan smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I love you both so much. And I believe in us. We can do this, together.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Chan felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. The road ahead was still uncertain, but with Felix and Minho by his side, he knew they could navigate any challenge. Their love was a tapestry, woven with threads of resilience and hope, and together, they would create a future where each of them felt seen, loved, and cherished.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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I'm excited to read this!

﴾ i drink your blood and i eat your skin

pairing: vampire! hwang hyunjin x f!reader

general warnings: this story will contain gore, violence, strong language, slow burn, potential smut and classic vampire things, also reader’s body is being described to be more on the chubbier side

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ongoing series masterlist

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part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

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