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artficlly · 5 months ago

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smog & spirits: bloodties (mini-series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, comfort/angst, fluff, wound description, healing, cuddling, religious punishment mentioned, threats, cults, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, bucky barnes has issues, bucky barnes is a dick, bucky barnes needs a hug, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: woo!! finally the second part to this section!! comfort and fluff as promised w a little bit of angst. you guys are not ready for what i have planned for future chapters woohoo!! sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love

main masterlist | series masterlist

When the coal boy finally came around, you were going to strangle him.

Despite its tiny size, your flat seemed to be leaking heat by the second. The last of your coal had long burnt out, leaving you shivering and elbow-deep in a dirty, lukewarm water bucket. Bucky had faded in and out of consciousness as you tended to him. A poultice had been made and lathered across his marred back, bandages holding the paste in place.

The gangster had moaned and groaned, half-consumed by fever as you cleaned the filth from his skin and hair. A satisfied grumble escaped his swollen lips while you massaged soap into the dirty locks, your fingers carefully working from root to end. His eyes would flutter open, bruised and bloodshot, watching you work with silent awe.

With some effort, you had roused the man long enough to get him to clamber into your small, rickety bed. Sweat glistened along his bare chest, the fever leaving him restless as he writhed between your sheets. Between laying a cool cloth along his brow, you worked on getting his clothes cleaned and hung up to dry. You knew you had none spare that would fit the hulking size of the gangster, so he would have to survive in his undershorts until his clothes dried.

You fished his stained but clean shirt from the bucket, wringing out the fabric. In the dim light cast by your candles, you could make out your breath as the depth of the night fully descended upon you.

You were filthy, tired, and cold. With a sniff, you rubbed the back of your hand across your forehead. The work had kept you warm for a short time, but now your sweat and blood were running cold. Across the room, Bucky had settled for the moment. He lay on his belly, bandaged back exposed to the skies as his breath rose and fell raggedly.

A small flash of guilt churned in your stomach upon fully looking at the damage you had caused. It would take days for the burning sensation and agonising pains to pass. The skin would never be the same, molten and twisted in appearance.

Maybe you should have denied him. He could have never truly known what he was asking for when he came to you for help.

You cast aside the thoughts with a frown.

Your knees were stiff, the muscle and bone aching as you unlocked them from your kneeling position. Hands shaking and goosebumps raised across your skin, you quickly darted across the room. Your nightgown was filthy with gods knows what from helping the gangster.

You did not check if the man had roused as you pulled it from your head in one swift motion. You did not particularly care if he gazed upon your nakedness. The man had been inside of you, with his fingers, his cock—your nipples peaked, maybe not just from the cold.

You cast your gaze back once you had slipped on a new and clean nightgown. Your eyes followed along the curve of his bicep, the solid muscle along his shoulders that disappeared beneath the bandages. Most of all, you looked at his face, still oddly beautiful despite the cuts and bruising. He looked vulnerable, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him.

His eyes were closed, thick, dark lashes brushed across his cheeks. His brows were drawn slightly, the ghost of a wince crossing his features.

Maybe it was the lack of clothes that was the most jarring. Even while he was inside you, he had remained clothed, as if he always had a piece of armour upon him. As if even at the height of pleasure, a thought lingered, worrying about his safety. Always had eyes in the back of his head, always watching and waiting for an enemy to strike. Did his sleeping form before you mean he trusted you? Or was he simply too injured to fight the exhaustion that clung to his very soul?

Outside, a frigid wind howled as it tore through the winding streets of The Warrens. You took that as your cue to stop lingering, shivering, and feeling pathetic.

You clambered into the small bed beside him, curling up by his side. Heat radiated off him, his sticky, hot flesh pressing against your own cool skin.

Bucky’s fever would be enough to keep the both of you warm.

—

By the time you awoke, Bucky’s fever had broken.

The gangster still lay on his stomach, but his head now rested just below your sternum. His tousled hair spilled between the valley of your breasts, an arm lazily draped across your middle. Hesitantly, you tilted your head, raising your own arm to gently hook it around the back of his head. Your fingers wound through his strands of hair, nails carefully scratching along his scalp.

You leaned your head back, a short sigh escaping your nose as you stared at the ceiling. Bucky let out a low hum, still half-asleep and bleary, responding to your touch. The vocalization sent vibrations across your skin, deep into your bones.

In a moment of selfishness, you savoured the quiet and the sensation of his weight upon you. Your digits explored deeper, splaying down his neck as you gently massaged. He hummed beneath you again, a small moan tugging from his lips as your fingertips moved lower. You dared to work the rhythm across the tops of his shoulders, ghosting along the edges of the bandages where the skin was untouched.

“Bucky,” you whispered. The gangster jerked beneath you as if startled that your touch wasn’t a dream. His head tilted, and he inhaled a sharp breath, wincing as the movement tensed his back muscles.

His eyes cracked open, vivid blue against the bloodshot whites. As he looked up at you, his entire being seemed to grow rigid. You tried not to take it personally.

“How’s your back?” you questioned, reluctantly withdrawing your hand from his hair.

Bucky contemplated your words, tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. He winced as he reached the split, the tender flesh not quite scabbed over. He spoke up, voice croaky and strained. “Bad.”

“I’ll make you somethin’ for the pain.”

Bucky didn’t reply, only making a pained noise as you slid out from under him, prying yourself from his touch. His limbs were frozen in place, muscles rigid as if every small movement brought agony. You got the sense that he did not remember clambering into your bed, nor you joining him.

You shuddered from the cold, wrapping your arms around your waist. Your thin nightgown did little to ward off the chill, and you could see your breath with each exhale. You felt the gangster’s gaze follow your every movement as you tip-toed across the cold hardwood floors to your dresser. You quickly pulled out a pair of socks and an ugly, oversized knitted sweater to throw over your shivering frame.

“I'll need to go out soon and hunt down the coal boy,” you explained as you moved to your desk. “I’ll get word to Steve or Sam too.”

You gathered some fresh herbs from your woven basket, sorting through the leafy greens and selecting what would be most effective. You weren’t particularly knowledgeable about potions or botany, but you knew enough to understand what worked best for the task at hand.

“No,” Bucky’s gravelly voice spoke up from behind you. You paused your movements, casting your gaze back to meet his.

“No?” you questioned, rubbing your chilly hands together with a disapproving frown.

“I don’t need Steve or Sam comin’ here with their… pity,” he explained. It was the most words he had spoken since he awoke, slightly muffled due to his face being half-pressed into the sheets.

You stalked forward, lowering yourself to your knees next to the bed. Eye-to-eye with Bucky, you sighed slowly, running a hand through his hair once more. His eyes closed, satisfied like a purring cat. “It’ll take a few days for your back to heal proper. I can help you here… I just worry they’ll go huntin’ for you if they don’t know you’re fine.”

He contemplated your words for a beat, lids fluttering as he reluctantly met your gaze.

“They can’t come here. They can’t see me like this.”

A strange sadness clawed at your gut at his confession. A man so feared that he could not be vulnerable in front of even those closest to him. The weight of expectation was heavy, and the fear of mutiny was even heavier.

“They won’t be able to get past my wards,” you reassured him, your fingertips ghosting across one of the gashes on his face. “I’ll just tell them you’re here, and you don’t want to be disturbed.”

He huffed out a pained laugh. “They’re gonna think I’m fuckin’ you, doll.”

You tried to keep a straight face. “Well, they’re not far off, now are they?”

—

Now that Bucky’s fever was broken, the both of you were rather grateful for a roaring fire.

Your tasks outside the bubble of comfort that was your flat went smoothly and briskly. You had slipped the coal boy an extra coin to ensure your coal was delivered to your flat efficiently and had remained tight-lipped about your frustration with the lad. One look at his sickly, pale mother, and you realized your order had slipped his mind with good reason.

Locating a Smog boy had gone easier than the first task. You slipped one of Bucky’s boys a note, instructing that it be delivered to Steve or Sam. Bucky had managed to scribble out some nonsense, explaining where he was while keeping out the details of his near-death experience. He hadn’t gone into depth but indicated he was worried Steve and Sam might go after The Penance Boys themselves if enlightened. Bucky had rather sternly muttered that he couldn’t afford rash or stupid decisions in such situations.

From the glance, you managed to get at the note, it read like Bucky’s absence was due to him being lost between your legs rather than a brush with death. You could already hear the sneering voices of the gangsters the next time you saw them.

Returning home, you found Bucky continuing to slip in and out of consciousness. During the hours he was awake, you made sure to give him tonics for the pain and broth to fight off hunger.

Little words were exchanged between you. The gangster only blinked at you in surprise as you settled some spare blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. As easy as it would be to clamber into bed next to Bucky, you no longer had the excuse of the cold. With him being more sentient than the night before, you suspected he would be more likely to call out such actions. You could already imagine the flush of embarrassment and the mocking words he would use.

As you arranged the makeshift bed, laying out the blankets and fluffing the pillows with meticulous care, Bucky's confused voice broke the silence, cutting through your thoughts. "What’re you doin’?"

You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his bewildered gaze. His eyes, still heavy with pain and exhaustion, searched your face for answers. "I thought it might be better if I stayed by the fire tonight. Give you more space to rest," you explained, trying to sound nonchalant even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Bucky frowned, his brow furrowing deeply, lines of concern etched into his features. "You don’t need to do that," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, devoid of its usual harshness. "Come here."

His tone held no trace of mockery, only an earnest invitation. You hesitated, unsure of what to make of this sudden shift. The room seemed to hold its breath with you. Slowly, you moved towards the bed, and Bucky shifted, wincing as he rolled onto his tender back. You carefully climbed in beside him, your movements tentative.

Bucky settled his head in your lap, his body sinking into the mattress with a deep, relieved sigh. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, he looked almost peaceful. Your hand instinctively went to his hair. The strands were soft under your fingers, and you ran them through gently, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body.

The moment was fleeting, a mere whisper on the breeze. You pressed your back up against the wall, watching as his brows twitched, eyelids fluttering as the ghost of a scowl crossed his bruised face. You pressed your fingertips to his temples, wishing you could extract whatever thoughts plagued him.

In the quiet, you murmured, "I have my wards up once more. No one’ll disturb you."

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open again, and he met your gaze. There was a wary look in his eye, and with little hesitation, he spoke up. "You have strong wards. You keep everyone out. Don’t you have any visitors?"

You could only assume it was the tonics you were giving him for the pain. The gangster was loose-lipped, practically putty in your hand as you contemplated how best to reply. He sighed again, a sound of contentment, and you marvelled at the transformation. You let your hand travel from his hair to his stubbled jawline, tracing the rough edges tenderly. His skin was warm under your touch.

“No,” you replied simply, gaze cutting away as you looked across the room with a frown. “I don’t have family, ‘least none that I speak to. My parents are dead.”

There was a brief pause as your nails circled his adam’s apple, then dragged back up to his jawline once more. “My mother from sickness. My father… well, he drank himself to death.”

Bucky shuddered beneath your touch. “I take it your father was a cruel man?”

“Yes.”

“He was the one in your memories? At the brothel?” He questioned further, and your frown deepened.

“Yes,” you repeated, surprised he had cared enough to remember. Your mind cast back to his strained reaction to your memories, the way the muscle in his jaw ticked. You wondered if Bucky saw his own demons within you. “The only kind thing my father ever did was…”

You hesitated, sucking in a sharp breath. Your fingers entangled through his hair. Was this a story that needed to be told? You cleared your throat, locking your gaze on the fireplace as you spoke. “My mother was a priestess in a coven or a cult… however you view it. They were terrible people, obsessed with cruel ideas of worship. They believed in sadism and suffering. Sacrifice. They praised those who could withstand torture for hours, believed that when the rapture came those who suffered most would be saved.”

Bucky was silent as you continued your tale. “They believed a witch would be born into their ranks, a witch with unbelievable powers that could raze cities with a single look. She would bring upon this rapture, save them from this place. They were all blinded, of course. The only kind thing my father ever did was get my mother away from that place.”

There was a long pause between the both of you, only broken as you looked down to find him staring up at you with a frown. Your breath caught in your throat. Despite the fogginess in his eyes from the pain tonic, there was a strange clarity in the way he held his gaze.

“I take it your father was much the same, cruel and a drunk,” you dared to muse.

Bucky’s face contorted into a glower, eyes darting away. “I don’t like to speak of my father.”

You noticed how the gangster almost began to cower from your touch, shoulders and neck rigid against your thighs. “Tell me of the others in your family then.”

“Well, there is Becca, my sister. I don’t think you’ve met her.” His tone was surprised, wary even. Even if outwardly he was standoffish, you noticed how his muscles relaxed.

You persisted with your soothing touch. A small feeling of delight thrummed in your chest as you noticed how his eyes rolled back, obviously pleased by your fingertips massaging into his scalp. “No. You’ve mentioned her before. You said she's… sensitive to magic.”

“My mother has this theory that someone, somewhere down the line, was a witch.”

“Magic is known to skip generations. It can manifest in unexpected ways.”

“Yes… well,” He stumbled over his words, a small grunt slipping past his lips as you massaged a particular spot along the base of his skull. “Becca and my mother are very alike. Sometimes too alike. It’s infuriating to deal with them when they have both made up their minds.”

“But you love them regardless?” You asked, the ghost of a smirk playing across your lips.

“I don’t think I’m a man capable of love.” Bucky paused, as if hesitant to confess. “But yes, I do.”

—

In the days that followed, your bedtime ritual continued, leading to slow, comforting mornings where you woke up with your limbs entwined with Bucky's. Each day settled into a steady routine: you prepared food and tonics for the gangster, watching as he slowly regained his strength. You found a strange solace in the rhythm of those days, his presence a constant, grounding force in your otherwise solitary life.

The mornings were a blend of quiet intimacy and simple tasks. The sun’s early light would filter through the fog, casting a soft glow over the port. Bucky’s breathing, once ragged and laboured, had become steady and strong. You would gently untangle yourself from him, careful not to disturb his rest, and begin the morning routine.

Bucky’s recovery was gradual but noticeable. He moved with more ease each day, his strength returning as the bruises faded and the fever’s grip loosened. You found yourself engaging in more conversations, sharing stories over meals, and even exchanging the occasional joke. His laughter, though rare and often accompanied by a wince, was a sound you soon came to miss.

It was not entirely a surprise to wake up alone in your bed one morning. The hollow pit in your chest, however, was undeniable. Though you would not admit it, you clung to the hope that Bucky had merely gone downstairs to wait for you to wake, or perhaps stepped outside for some fresh air. But as you searched your tiny flat, it became painfully clear that he was gone. No words, no note, no messenger—just a cold, empty space where he had been.

You should have come to expect it, yet the absence of any farewell stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

Spring finally rolled around, but the cold persisted, mirroring the chill that had settled within you. On your occasional excursions to the market or to see clients outside your home, you remained bundled up against the lingering frost. The Smog Boys hardly spared you a glance, their eyes always scanning for other threats, and you never caught a glimpse of Bucky weaving through the fog and alleys. His disappearance was a gaping void, a reminder of your isolation.

A flicker of hope would spark each time you had a visitor at your door. Clients, workers, the coal boy… yet not a single Smog Boy. As quickly as you had come to despise the gangster and how he called for your services at any whim, you also found you quickly came to miss those late-night summons.

But the knock at your door this night, the face that greeted you as you swung open the door… it was a face that left a fit of dread in your stomach.

Rebecca Barnes.

You had never met the woman, but with one look you knew. You could recognise those features anywhere. She stood in the doorway with an unyielding, cool confidence. She was a striking figure, tall and lithe, with the same piercing blue eyes as Bucky. Her raven hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, a few rebellious strands framing her sharp features. Over her shoulders, she draped a dark, fur-lined coat, the fabric gleaming softly in the firelight. Much like her brother, it seemed she had appeared from the fog like a wraith, not a speck of ash to be seen across her clothing or hair.

She smiled. Wide. It unsettled you, the way the smile did not quite meet her eyes. “May I come in?”

The woman did not wait for a response, nor did it seem she intended to wait either. She brushed past you without a care, the fibres of her furs tickling your forearm as she passed.

“What’s happened?” You ask, unable to hide the worry in your tone. Becca didn’t involve herself in Smog Boys business, besides some surface showing of her face. Bucky had made sure his sister and mother would never be incriminated in any crimes, and that they were always to be protected.

Becca Barnes did not turn up at anyone's door, not without good reason.

Rebecca placed her purse on your dining table with a deliberate, almost ceremonial motion. Her eyes locked onto yours, unblinking and intense, the calculating gaze of someone who always knew more than they let on. Her lips curved into a thin, tight smile. “My brother.”

Your stomach dropped as if a trapdoor had been opened beneath you.

“Your brother?” you repeated cautiously. You took a hesitant step forward, your hand instinctively reaching to close the front door behind you, as if doing so could keep the impending storm contained within your tiny flat.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing through the dim light of the room. She took a step closer, her movements fluid and predatory. “Do you care for him?”

“What?”

“I said,” Rebecca's voice was low, measured, each word enunciated with chilling precision, “Do you care for him?”

You paused, your body frozen in place. The silence stretched taut between you, a razor-thin wire ready to snap. Rebecca shook her head, a small, almost pitying smile playing on her lips. She let out a soft tut, a sound of mild disappointment.

“I’ll get to the point, shall I?” Her tone was clipped, businesslike, as she stepped forward. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “You’ll stay away from him. You hear me?”

Your brows furrowed, and you took an involuntary step back, confusion and defiance warring within you, trying to make sense of the sudden, stark command. Rebecca’s eyes flashed with impatience. She closed the distance between you, her posture rigid, her movements calculated. She loomed over you, her presence both intimidating and inescapable.

“This would’ve been simpler if you remained one of his whores,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. Her chin lifted. “You already fucked him, so I suppose that’s out of your system. But you’ll stay away from him, witch. There was enough grief with the last one, the traitorous bitch she was. I cannot afford to have another one of you messing’ with family business.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to explain, but the words caught in your throat. “I don’t know what you think has happened between us—”

“Oh, I know what has happened.” She interrupts, her voice brittle like breaking glass. “You’ve somehow infected his mind. It’s the only reason he would’ve come to you when he was injured, that he allowed himself to be a victim of your magic.”

“He asked me for help–” You begin to insist.

“Help?” She barked out a laugh, a harsh sound bubbling from her throat. “How do you call what you did to his back help? Those scars will never heal fully, you’ve ruined him.”

You felt a flush of anger rise in your chest. “He knew I’m not a healer–”

“I know what you did.”

Rebecca’s voice cut through the room, silencing you. The silence that fell between you was thick, suffocating.

“I know what you did to those coppers. I know how they beat Leofric’s son to death in front of you. So you blitzed them out of existence. There were no bodies to recover because you turned them to mist.”

The accusation hung in the air, a dark, undeniable truth. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms.

“You think that’s what I’ll do to Bucky?” you asked, your voice defiant.

“I don’t think, I know it.” Rebecca’s gaze was unwavering, her expression unreadable. “I know your breed, and I warn you that I’ll destroy you if you compromise what my brother has built. What my family has built.”

“Respectfully, you do not know me,” you replied, your voice steady.

“Maybe I don’t,” Rebecca conceded, her tone cold and detached, “but I know a threat when I see one.”

She clicked her tongue as she picked up her purse, the sound sharp and final. “Within the next few days, you’ll receive a message asking you to attend a family meeting. You’ll politely decline. You'll continue working for my family, but you’ll keep your distance.”

You could feel the anger flaring up your throat, hot and fierce. “And what’ll happen if I don’t? What if I tell him what you’ve said today?”

Rebecca’s smile was a chilling, sickly sweet curve of her lips.

“Then I’ll kill you,” she said simply, her voice a soft, deadly whisper. “When you least expect it, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. Bucky won’t be wise to any of it. Do you truly think he would believe a witch over his own sister?”

Becca turns, adjusting her coat with a practised flip of her wrist. The heels of her shoes clicked on the hardwood floors as she strutted to the front door. "I do like you, spirit-raiser. We could be friends if you remember your place."

As she walked out the front door, turning to close it behind her, she flashed one last smile. "Just remember, you’re nothing to us."

PART FIVE

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1800titz · 8 months ago

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BIG ANNOUNCEMENT (TDIAG + PATREON)

Hi lovely friends!!

I am so excited to announce that I have LAUNCHED A PATREON! Woohoo!! I’m even more excited to announce that the debut is an early release for the long awaited chapter 11 of TDIAG! ((the chapter will be uploaded on to tumblr and wattpad two weeks after its patreon upload)).

It’s $5 a month, and alongside early access to TDIAG updates, my patreon will offer exclusive teasers, unannounced ficlets (some patreon exclusives, some early release) like Gladiator!Harry, TA!Harry, Angry ballet man, a gruff vampire x his familiar, TRIVIA MAN, and a possible patreon exclusive unfinished fic that stands at over 120K in word count! There will also be early access to the second part of Ride the Tiger (pornstar!au), to Glaze (second part of pottery man), and patreon exclusive extras for both TDIAG and Ride the Tiger! I will also be writing patreon exclusive blurbs unrelated to the aforementioned, and I am open to taking requests!

For now, I am aiming to post two pieces a week + exclusive teasers, polls, and check-ins. I am absolutely brand new to patreon, and have so much appreciation for your patience in this first trial month. I’m eager to hear your feedback, your requests, and ways that I can possibly improve my patreon to make it an awesome space for you guys!

I hope to see you there (✿◠‿◠)

#patreon #announcement #important

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sharks-n-bones · 11 months ago

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COOPER AND DARNELL ARE FINALLY DONE WOOHOO

Holy fuck guys I'm so sorry this took so long, I had major writers block with these two and I got sick recently and it's been a time BUT NOW THEY'RE FINISHED HUZZAH I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY AND THANK YOU FOR STILL SUPPORTING ME EVEN THOUGH IT TOOK ME SO DAMN LONG TO WRITE FOR THEM

EDIT FORGOT TO SAY EARLIER BUT A HUGE THANK YOU TO @hauntedghostboo FOR HELPING ME OUT WITH THIS CHAPTER AND THE AU IT HELPED ME OUT SO MUCH

When the flood hit, the twins didn't really realize the severity of things until it reached the village. Prince D spent most of his life in a UFO and Cooper just thought it'd be like every other time the rivers flooded. Both thought that the water would go down in a few days time, and they thought that until the water reached the village. Darnel asked if it was normal for the water to reach the village. Cooper said no

Branch had instructed the village to pack what they could carry and start heading up the mountain, and given that he was the one with the most survival experience, they listened. They made their way up the mountain as quick as they could. The first few days they'd sometimes wake up to the water at their heels. They walked a bit faster those days

Cooper had switched out his “Everything's Good” hat for his “Destiny” hat. Darnell had asked why, and Cooper explained that everything was not good right now. They had to leave the place he'd called home for the majority of his life, the flood had completely washed over it and was still rising, they had to move and try and outrun the rising water, nothing was okay right now. The only thing that was okay was that everyone got out in time and he had Darnell with him

Darnell could understand that. Their world had turn up on its head, and they had to leave everything behind. Darnell hadn't even expa normal flood before, he lived in a UFO for star's sake! So for all of Pop Village to go underwater while he was visiting? He was freaking a little bit. But he'd smiled and told Cooper that they'd be okay as long as they had each other

A week or two of travelling and they were almost at the peak of the mountain, and that's when everyone started building rafts and boats. Cooper and Darnell helped Poppy, Branch and the rest of their friend group with building the ship. They'd brought their hover boards when they visited the village, so they used them to work on areas the others couldn't reach easily. Everyone sang and danced as they built, and honestly it helped take their minds off the fact that Pop Village, and probably the whole planet, was flooding

Singing and building took up most of their time during the day, but it was fun for the most part! Cooper chose to think of this as a new adventure, like when he'd gone to find more trolls like him and ended up finding his brother and parents! Their parents… he wondered how they were holding up during all of this, or is they'd even noticed the flood yet… would they ever see them again? He tried not to think about it

While the building and singing and dancing helped, Darnell still wasn't doing all that great. While building, he kept either looking at the sky, watching for his floating home, or in the direction of where the village used to be, wondering when the water would catch up to them. He'd quickly shake himself out of it though and focus back on the task at hand

It took another couple weeks, but soon enough, everyone's rafts and ships were built and the water was at their heels. They loaded the ship with everything they needed and could carry, the twins helping with bringing things aboard with their hover boards while the other's either gave them supplies to bring aboard or worked on storing things away. Then, once everything was loaded, they climbed aboard and waited for the water to whisk their ships away into the ever growing sea

Once they were actually on the water, Branch made sure everyone got a crash course on survival. For once, Cooper appreciated how prepared the formerly gray troll was for any given situation. Everyone had chores and jobs on the ship. When they came across islands, some would gather supplies like wood and metal if they could find it and other such things for repairs while others would forage for food and collect seeds for the garden aboard their ship. Cooper and Darnell usually helped with bringing everything back to the ship

It took a few months for everyone to get used to surviving at sea, but once they all started getting the swing of things, they had fun! It was obviously much different than the peaceful village life they were used to, and getting through storms was always a bit rough, but they got the hang of things pretty quick with Branch’s help. Whenever they reached an island, they'd gather anything they could before relaxing at the waterside or back on the ship, depending on the preference

Cooper and Darnell would usually splash around in the water or just generally good off if they weren't busy, Cooper a bit more-so than Darnell. However, they still had their moments where they missed the times before the flood. Sometimes, when it was late and night and neither could sleep for one reason or another, they'd sit together in one of their beds and talk until they grew tired, telling stories of things that happened before they were reunited, recounting memories, sharing their wishes, their fears… anything and everything

Cooper told stories of all the shenanigans he and the snack pack would get into in the village, and Darnell would tell of life inside the UFO and all the parties and celebrations. Cooper didn't mind life at sea, it was a lot of fun and getting to explore new islands all the time and enjoy the water whenever he wanted was awesome, but sometimes he'd admit to Darnell that he missed life in the village and how simple and carefree everything was. Darnell knew what he meant. Life on the ship was fun, but he missed his floating home

Everyone got a huge reality check when Tiny disappeared into the jaws of a fish. It'd just been a normal day. They'd finished gathering what they could from the island for the day and were taking a much needed break on the beach. Then Tiny screamed, Guy tried to save him and didn't get there in time, and then everything was silent save for Guy's sobs. It all happened so fast. Cooper and Darnell were horrified — they hadn't even thought of ocean predators being a possibility — but now, once again, the universe showed them through force that the world wasn't all sunshine and rainbows

Cooper didn't know what to do when Guy went gray, and Darnell didn't even know what was happening. He'd never seen a troll go gray before. When they'd all returned to the ship and the twins went Cooper's room, Darnell asked about it. Cooper told him what a troll going gray meant, how they lost their happiness and their music. He told him how everyone in the village had gone gray before after they were captured by the bergens, albeit for a very short time. Darnell was so shocked, he didn't know how to react

The next few weeks on the ship had a somber note to them. They all worked a bit harder and starting working on safety measures to make sure nothing like that would ever happen again. Cooper would try to cheer up Guy when he could, but nothing worked and Darnell told him to give Guy some space to breathe and mourn. Cooper settled for occasionally leaving cupcakes outside his door

They all still sang and danced as they worked, albeit maybe not as often or with as much vigor as usual, but it helped take their minds off things a bit. Everyone was a bit more hesitant to go into the water until Branch made the safety nets so no big fish could get through to eat them. Speaking of the water, Cooper and Darnell had started to notice somethings

- For one, they both loved swimming. Hell, everyone on the ship seemed to, even after the incident! Sure, Cooper and D were a bit more hesitant getting in, but they still loved it! And swimming came easy to them both, which was a bit shocking since D lived in a UFO most of his life

(Cooper wondered if they had pools in there. He'd gotten to explore the place a bit, but not all of it yet. He'd only found his family a month before the flood hit, after all)

The twins had also started noticing their hair changing slightly. Darnell had been the first to notice that it seemed to bounce more when they moved, and how it almost seemed squishy? Cooper had been amazed when Darnell pointed it out, and they both thought it was hilarious

Cooper noticed that their skin that wasn't covered in fur was a lot smoother, almost silky. He'd first noticed it when he and Darnell had gotten back onto the ship one time, both still soaked from swimming in the water, and both immediately slipped and ate shit on the deck!

They'd howled with laughter about it and D had joked that their skin was too smooth to walk on. Cooper had noticed he was actually right when he was showering later and almost couldn't keep his footing. He'd taken a close look at his arms and legs and noticed just how smooth they were. Almost jelly-like… Cooper had laughed at the thought of having jelly limbs and joked to Darnell about it before promptly forgetting about it

It was only after the techno trolls had visited their ship and told them of the magic in the water and the changes it would cause that the funk twins realized that they were actually changing. They had gaped at each other for a bit before breaking out into matching grins

The techno troll had said that, based on what they'd seen, they'd take on the traits and some appearances of actual sea creatures, and Cooper and Darnell immediately wanted to find out just what kind of siren they'd become

They started paying more attention to any changes they'd develop, and whenever they found one they'd run to tell the other. Darnell had discovered they were becoming more flexible when he'd slipped and done the splits without any pain, and Cooper had found that their hair was easier to control. It could act more like another limb than before

Almost 2 months later when they set anchor at another island, the bros we're trying to figure out what they we're turning into when a stranger's ship pulled up next to The Main Course. The funk bros stopped what they were doing, along with everyone else on the ship, to see what the newcomer was up to and if they could possibly befriend them

The troll on board had goggles over his eyes. He wore a vest made of leaves and had teal skin with matching hair that he used to swing himself onto their ship. He'd said he was looking for his brothers, pushing his goggles up on to his head as he did, and locked eyes with Branch. They heard Branch gasp, and the stranger's face broke out into a wide, toothy grin.

-“Baby Branch!!”

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slytherinshua · 10 months ago

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VELVET AND SILK

genre. assassin au. fluff. warnings. slightly graphic dialogue. use of guns and daggers. meaningless side character death. yongha being an entire cutie. pairing. husband!yongha x fem!reader. wc. 1k. request. no. a/n. first wei fic woohoo written for my favourite yongha obsessed soulmate @eternalgyu <3

“Take one more step and I shoot.” The threat echoed against the walls of the empty warehouse and you scrunched your eyes shut tightly, taking a breath and trying to reach the dagger you had on hand without anyone noticing. It was hard to do anything discreetly when you were being held so tightly against your target’s body, a gun barrel pressed up to your temple. You dared to open your eyes to catch another glance at what Yongha was doing.

It was a bit hard to see in the dark, but you could just make out a stealthy shadow travelling along the second floor of the warehouse; overseeing everything happening below from the railing. You were confident that even if you couldn’t get out of this yourself, Yongha wouldn’t let any other man even lay a finger on you. He was sort of possessive when he came to that. You were sure your husband was already fuming at just seeing you trapped in the arms of a man you both should have been able to have taken out by now.

You would have had the situation completely under control if your target hadn’t prepared backups. Taking down 1 man twice your size was one thing, but 3 all at once was a little more of a task for you. You were strong for a woman, sure, but men towering well above 6 feet still had an overwhelming physical advantage. That was why you didn’t even try to struggle in the hold of your captor. Staying calm and grabbing hold of your dagger was the best chance you had.

“If you have any sense of self-preservation left in you, you’ll let her go now before I blast your brains out.”

The response came twice as harsh as the original threat— right on brand for Yongha. You held back a scoff. Of course your husband would jump straight to that. Though, that was part of the reason you loved him, you supposed.

The next moments flashed by in the blink of an eye. You felt that arm around you loosen just slightly, most likely from a shiver running up the man’s spine at your husband’s chilling warning. This gave you just enough room to grab the dagger strapped to your leg and ram it into the man’s side. A gunshot fire was heard half a second later; Yongha’s excellent aim ensured the bullet seared right through the man’s skull.

You let out a relieved sigh. Even though your life might not have been in danger (you could always tell when your target would be too scared to actually pull a trigger), it was still nice to not have the scruffy arms of a man with a long history of illegal activity holding you in place. The only arms belonging to a man that you would willingly let yourself be held by were Yongha’s; and for the record, he smelled pleasantly of musk and freshly washed dress suits.

“Wanna go catch dinner? All that drama stirred up an appetite.” You heard your husband’s playful tone sound through the room as he jumped down from the banister. You smiled as you picked up your gun again and placed it back in its holster. You always found Yongha’s voice shifts from when he was threatening someone to when he was talking to you to be entertaining.

“Will you buy me a filet mignon? I’m in the mood for something fancy.” You replied back in the same playful tone he had offered.

“If you dress up nice.” He shrugged and flashed you a flirty grin.

“Deal.”

An hour later you were dressed in a velvet black evening dress, sipping expensive tasting wine across your husband. For missions he always wore his hair tied up, but for dinner dates, he let the long dark strands down, styled only slightly. You loved how perfectly his hair framed his face, contrasting nicely with the white silk suit he had adorned instead of his usual work attire.

He was trying his best to keep a straight face, but whenever your eyes met his, he couldn’t help how his lips quivered and eventually formed a cute smile. Given how soft he was with you and his friends, you wondered how it was even possible he was good at his job— he was acting like a smitten boy in love, and not as if a man had just died at his hands an hour ago (very deservingly).

“Are you drunk already? Your face is flushed.” You took the first opportunity you could to tease him. Seeing him get all shy and smitten never got old.

“No! The food hasn’t even gotten here, we barely started drinking.” He hushed you, his eyes darting around to the other tables of couples or groups of friends all dressed to the nines. And then with a hesitant whisper, he asked, “Are you sure we really fit in here?”

You giggled. In terms of looks alone, no one would question you or Yongha. You had both dressed appropriately for the 5-star restaurant, and either one of you had a stare that could kill. Yongha seemed to always be a little too precautionary when out in public.

“What? You want to leave before we get our steak?” You raised your eyebrow at him as you sipped more of the dark red wine. Your husband shook his head slightly, seeming to relax a little, but still be on edge. You could barely focus on anything other than how endearingly his cheeks were flushed.

“You wanted steak, so you will get steak.” He said simply with a smile, “From my wallet.” He added as an afterthought, making both of you break out into soft laughter.

You loved to relax like this with your husband after a mission, both of you lost in the other's eyes for a couple hours as you wound down from the high stress of your job. As long as you had each other, whether it was on a mission or sitting across the dinner table, you were content with life.

↳ wei taglist: @eternalgyu,, @weird-bookworm

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bluescreenvirus · 2 years ago

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So, in order to fix Zane in my Shattered Ice AU, the ninja have to gather all of these components, or fragments. These fragments are physically, and are made up of the glowing blue pieces of his core. When Zane was destroyed, each piece became similar to him, stuck in a weird plane of existence. Each fragment became tied to Zane's existence as well, but were spread very far apart. And the pieces must be completed in a mildly specific order. Or they will all be destroyed, erasing Zane from existing, ever.

That means no one would even remember who Zane is as he is eradicated and left in the void alone for the rest of eternity woohoo! So

- Stability : this is what causes all of the glitching on Zane's appearance, ruining what he looks like to others. It gets better and worse depending on the amount of Energy he has stored.

- Memory : This fragment is what caused a majority of people to forget who Zane was, other than the ninja and Pixal. This would restore the memory of Zane to everyone, likely one of the last before Form.

- Voice : This fragment causes Zane to be either completely inaudible, or for his speaking to make zero sense, rendering his attempts to communicate with the ninja absolutely useless. This would likely be the first to be recovered, which allows Zane to properly speak and communicate without being muted or glitched.

- Time : This would stop Zane's constant fragmented jumping through time, which is completely uncontrollable. This fragmented piece causes him to jump through time at any moment, at any place, at any point in time. He learned that sometimes these locations and times he was brought to have relevance, as its what lead to one or two of his fragments being discovered.

- Energy : Zane is between life and death, but he still has energy. His will to protect and live is part of what kept him from being erased entirely, it is his own power that is keeping him here. However, this energy is in short supply and has to be reservered. Though not clear to the others, due to his constant skipping in time, he often has to sleep for years, due to the energy he uses to simply exist. It becomes clear near the beginning when this energy is low, because it affects his stability.

- Existence : Even after recovering time, he is still constantly phasing in and out of existence. Cause him to become complete invisible, to only visible to those between life and death, and finally visible to anyone. Sometimes before this is recovered, he can target a certain person to see him, but it takes a lot of energy.

- Form : Form is what makes Zane physically, without it, he is always non existent. This would be the last, in which Zane would finally step out of limbo and be physical. However, trying to recover form before the other elements could be detrimental to him.

I think the order would be :

Voice, Stability, Energy, Time, Existence, Memory, and Form.

Now I have to piece together the events that transpire between each of these!

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago zane #zane ninjago #shattered ice au #lego ninjago au #ninjago au #zangst #ninjago season 3 #ninjago overlord #ninjago fanfiction

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hanaasbananas · 1 year ago

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Tag 10 People You Want to Know Better

thanks for the tag @thesamestarlight!

relationship status: single

song stuck in my head: currently my brain is creating a remix of GO, from Coke Studio and Left Right by Ali Sethi. LR is just such a vibe- when I heard Shae Gill's verse in it for the first time I swear it made me ascend on the bus to work at 7am. and then my brain segues into the bridge of GO because that specific part is ETHEREAL its so so good. yk what, i'm gonna add a clip of it because more people need to hear this:

last song i listened to: Castles Crumbling (From the Vault). Currently OBSESSED with this song and it's giving me such a good fic idea that could potentially be on par with my ml 1920's enemies au but like. a LOT angstier hehe. AND I'll actually have time to write it w the summer holidays starting next week 😈

three favourite foods: hmmm lasagna, bhindi masala, and pakoras

dream trip: Italy! or Greece. I'd just love to go to Europe tbh because most of the holidays i've been on have just been back home in Pakistan, which is fun but I'd love to go somewhere else too. Now that I think ab it though, I'd love to go properly sightseeing in Pakistan. I found out a while ago that the first time I went to Pakistan when I was uh...5? My uncles took us all on a trip to Murree which is a BEAUTIFUL mountainous area of the country but guess who doesn't remember any of it :((( I didn't even believe we went until i saw a video of me there lmao

anything i want right now: burger burger burger. I want takeout so badly lmao but i'm too broke to justify buying anything and too tired to cook so i just had cereal for dinner and that was supremely unsatisfying rip

if you could be any animal, what and why: something that sleeps a lot and isn't bothered by anybody. so...a cat. work has been kicking my arse lately so I am constantly exhausted and would like to sleep for a week straight please. 6 more days until the summer holidays though, woohoo!!

tagging @queer-cosette @2manyfandoms2count @theladyfae @nomolosk @deinde-prandium and anyone else who wants to have a go! <3

#banana speaks 🍌#i always ramble loads in these lmaooo #but no joke that part of GO has been playing in my head all day #i just love the repetition of DIL JAANE NA JAANE KYA and how it builds up and gets louder hnnnng its fantastic #tag game

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heartbrake-hotel · 2 years ago

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Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

#blurb #ask #goddamn will they EVER let each other finish a sentence.???#sorry dialogue is Not my forte 🙈 im a prose kinda girlie hardcore #also yahhhh i just kind of . totally abandoned the ending to cater to my h/c fantasies. sorry not sorry 😎#halfway thru the second block of bullets i realized the hc format was completely pointless and i had basically written a full fic #on the other hand im nothing if not a stubborn bitch so.. not changing the formatting now.!#if u think about this too hard u start to see a lot of plot holes #or at least further questions about the specificities of vamp lore in this au #to that i would recommend u pls ignore them 🥰#GODDD i started writing this directly in the ask. like a fucking FOOL #knowing FULL WELL how this stupid post editor not only eats ask drafts for breakfast and spits out their bones #but ALSO that the even STUPIDER copy/paste restrictions would hit #since theres a character block limit separate from the character POST limit 🙄#so ive had this tab open for almost a week and have just been walking on eggshells around my laptop praying to not lose it dfghj #MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF TO POST IT TBH #also smitty ive got a sidenote for u as well but its gonna go on main lmao. one sec #oh god............ just realized i did the ff.net thing with the in-text ANs 😳😳#pOST CANCELLED; EVERYBODY GO HOME

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chernayawidow · 1 year ago

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“Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career.” — Hell yeah! Honestly I also need that kind of clarity but it’s just so harddddd 😓

“And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.” — See THIS right here is what makes the situation even more painful, is the fact that she hopes to find her soulmate. While on the other hand, he knows about her in a way, and he had the chance to reach out to her, but he decided to let the connection fizzle out because of his revenge driven, neglectful father.

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.” — This bitch needs to get cut down to size 💀 listen I’m all for getting your hair done, but to put that above our baby girls OWN work load is a bitch move. I really hope she gets a reality check at some point…

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?” — I choose to believe that our girl proceeded to spit a big ol’ glob into that coffee!

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?” — Oh no, another shitty dad 🫣

“At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday.” — OH FUCK YES YES YESSSS!!!! I LOVE CAMARO’S!! Bobby for the win you amazing human being!! Also I immediately thought of Vampire Diaries.

“You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands.” — Justice for Bobby!!!

“Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.” — Good thing you’re a 24 year old woman babe, what you do is your choice, and he can’t stop you MWAHAHAHAHAH 😏

““He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.” — I love Bobby so much, and Rufus too 🥺💖

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.” — The Winchesters I bet… 😏

“You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.” — LMAOOO oh if only she knew who that flash of black belonged to 💀

“You were finally feeling your soulmate.” — DUN DUN DUNNN!! AND THUS IT BEGINS!!

“Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.” — I’ve always wondered the same thing. If Sam never went with Dean, and was home with Jess, then would she still have died?

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.” — Awh he’s so sweet and fatherly 🥹🫶

“Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”” — Nah just your soulmate who you avoided, no biggie at all 🤙

“You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.” — This is such an interesting version of a Soulmate AU! There’s so many different types and I’ve never seen this kind before, but I’m really enjoying it!

“You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.” — WOOHOO!!! CONTACT HATH BEEB MADE!! ITS HAPPENING!!!

“He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.” — Dean you sly motherfucker 🤣

“When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone.” — MAN FUCK JOHN! He really went and turned what should be a happy experience, into a terrifying one that Dean is now not wanting to commit to out of fear 😐 Stupid John! ITS ALWAYS THE JOHNS!!

So now the ball is really starting to get rolling! I just really hope that Dean disregards what John said and doesn’t up and leave her, because I don’t think my heart could handle that angst 🥺 and I can’t imagine how she would feel about that! Keen as to see how he handles this! Love your work as per usual! 🫶

Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn’t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary.

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye—

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

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872 notes · View notes

chatonyant · 4 years ago

Text

Some of my initial doodles for the Sannin! mostly Tsunade though cause i love her hhhh

Some of my notes on their interactions have changed, but the general idea remains the same: Jiraiya and Tsunade, though not wholly present due to different issues and circumstances, care for Kakashi and sometimes catch up with him when he’s on missions. Kakashi, though having a hard time really trusting and asking for help, turns to those two when things are really rough.

Orochimaru in this is a distant figure. I’ve got a couple of notes on him but the general idea is that although distant, he was still a part of baby Kakashi’s life and Orochimaru’s later betrayal and defection stung.

More notes below!

Keeping up with the timeline is a right pain in the ass, so I’m not really going to paying too much attention to that. The Sannin and Sakumo are good friends due to their high ranking and are seen chilling together a lot.

mm So the Sannin meet Kakashi as a wee baby before having to leave for Ame. Then the Sannin sans Jiraiya return, and Tsunade loses Dan soon after that. However, she does stay in Konoha for a bit before leaving with Shizune.

SO. Tsunade meets Kakashi when he’s still learning how to talk properly. The little genius can understand well, but speaking is a tad difficult. (i’m kinda hc that he has larger than average canines that he needs to grow into and made talking a tad difficult. He had a bit of lisp before he got used to it.) “Tsunade” is long, so babyKashi would call her Nade, which just stuck. As he grew and became more of the by the book shinobi he dropped it and began calling her “Tsunade-san”, which she laments. But later on in times of emotional or physical vulnerability, he resorts back to calling her ‘Nade. As he grew and became more comfortable with his life and who he is, the nickname came back as a more casual thing.

When she left, she asked Kakashi if he wanted to come along. But Kakashi, having lost his father and hating the idea of going against the rules, turned her down. He felt betrayed by Tsunade leaving, and for a while didn’t respond to letters she sent. Tsunade purposefully ran into Team Minato whenever they had a mission outside the walls, but Kakashi would avoid her. But just because he didn’t want to talk to her didn’t mean he threw away the letters. He saved them and read them whenever he had free time. Minato found out and gently nudged Kakashi to respond, though Kakashi didn’t really listen. After the loss of Obito, he ran into Tsunade again, but this time didn’t hide. They talked, Tsunade checked up on his eye, and when Kakashi returned to the village, he began responding to her letters. Tsunade always asked Kakashi if he wanted to join her, but he never did. The two had two different ways of coping and couldn’t bear to leave that behind.

When Tsunade returns to be Hokage, no one really knew the friendship and bond between the two. Team Seven found out first when Tsunade went to go watch her two kiddos, Naruto and Kakashi, and referred to them as such.

When Sakura became her apprentice, she got so much blackmail in the form of baby stories.

I like to think that Jiraiya built his spy system for a while and was on more solo undercover missions to establish and check up on them. After all, intel is gold in a war. So he wasn’t able to visit as much as Tsunade, but when he did, he was a loud, hardy figure who brought so many gifts. He also brought Minato over at times and they just chilled. Jiraiya was in a long term mission when Sakumo died, so he wasn’t there to help in the immediate aftermath. I think Jiraiya (and all the sannin, really) has a hard time properly processing grief and went on more and more missions to distract himself. It didn’t help that there was another war brewing and intel was once again something the village desperately needed. Instead of letters, Jiraiya sent Kakashi little souvenirs from different places he visited. Occasionally, when he was in the village, the two would go to get food and Jiraiya would tell stories to a quiet Kakashi, who was listening but pretended he wasn’t.

(I’m throwing the asshole sides of Jiraiya oUT the window. He’s not a creep, he can be respectful, and he’s a theatre nerd.)

Jiraiya chose a hard road when he decided to become a spymaster. Though he’s out the village most of the time, he is also under a lot of pressure to be out and about, collecting intel. He’s almost forced to be out the village at times, and he can’t quite be there for the people he cares about. When Tsunade left, he kept in touch with her and met up with her when he could.

Orochimaru was usually there because he was dragged along by Tsunade or Jiraiya or Sakumo ran into him in the markets or whatnot and dragged him along to catch up. He’s a generally apathetic and a bit detached? mmm I’m not sure how to put this into words but he’s like the ultimate Ravenclaw. Obsesses over knowledge and does anything to pursue it. So he spends his time in his labs and when he gets dragged along, he’s a bit irritated at the disruption. But he doesn’t hate it, and he just,,, he’s detached, he’s apathetic, and he doesn’t seek to further the bonds made by the other Sannin and Sakumo. But regardless there is a bit of a bond, and ultimately he feels betrayed when the others leave and Sakumo dies. And without the others, Orochimaru and Kakashi don’t have a reason to interact beyond the occasional nod of greeting as they pass each other by. In Orochimaru’s mind, Kakashi is “the annoying pup” while in Kakashi’s it’s “dad’s old friend”.

Orochimaru, in his pursuit of knowledge, continues on this path of questionable actions until he’s later busted by the Sandaime and escapes Konoha to create his own place where he could do questionable things in peace.

#naruto #hatake kakashi #senju tsunade #jiraiya #orochimaru #sannin #au #naruto fanart #nart au #alp art #there are inconsistencies within my ideas cause i've made these doodles all out of order before i changed an idea or fixed it after #reading more on it #me chanting as i do write and draw #self indulgence self indulgence self indulgence #at first the tsunade and kakashi doodles werent for the au #and then i went #why not #and now its part of the au woohoo

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vinturong · 2 years ago

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Boom!Sonic au edition Lore dump ⬇️

So the guy in the upper right probably caught ur attention first! For fun, I gave all my AU Sonics different looks and names, to make em seem like separate characters, but it’s still Sonic, just looks different. His name is King! Anyway, the AU is that Boom!Sonic is actually just the regular Sonic, who, through a freak chaos accident, ended up teleported to and stranded on Bygone Island.

He cannot leave the island through air, sea or earth, because the ancients, as a parting gift, surrounded the entire landmass and the waters around it with an impenetrable forcefield. In the past it meant to protect the island, but now imprisons poor Sonic and the rest of its inhabitants. No transmissions pass through it either, so he can’t even radio his friends.

The barrier also limits how much chaos energy is able to phase in, leaving the island with overall less energy than the surrounding area. You know how slow Sonic is in SB? That’s why. Chaos no longer adds to his speed, so he had to expand his arsenal with hand-to-hand combat to make up for the loss. He’s still able to use his powers, but only in bursts. The lack of chaos also leaves him chronically fatigued, which is why he may seem more subdued, and also why he got a little chubby. Just doesn’t have the energy to run as much as he used to. Homesickness and being trapped also caused him to develop depression woohoo Personality-wise, he’s just like Sonic from the show! Tho maybe a little less selfish, because god, how narcissistic he was at times.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic boom #sth #sonic au #sonic oc #vinturong #sa2ration #my art #drew this to prove to myself and everyone that i can still draw sonics #and i can! i think #gonna try to draw them alongside anthros #because theyre fun #and i miss them #if u have questions abt king/the au feel free to shoot!#i love him so much #also planning to make a comic w him #tho its gonna be with the anthro ver

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ichorai · 3 years ago

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shout me out ; bucky barnes.

track nine of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; ex!bucky barnes x gn!reader

synopsis ; sometimes a simple ‘sorry’ is more than enough.

words ; 1.7k

themes ; angst, mild fluff, exes au

warnings / includes ; mentions of death/killing/losing a loved one, crying, mentions of a break up, set in a 50s style diner, bucky has a lumberjack beard woohoo, alpine brings bucky dead birds <3

main masterlist.

Love was the act of tattooing someone’s soul into your heart. Oftentimes it’d hurt, it’d sting, it’d bite. A poetic kind of pain one was willing to endure because love was universal—love was all consuming—love was what drew a line between surviving and living. But it was art, in the end, and the art would heal, just as a gash would eventually scab over.

At least, that was the point of love; an end goal of bliss, right?

Sometimes it didn’t feel like your heart’s tattoo of Bucky ever healed. Was it beyond repair? You weren’t entirely sure.

Bucky asked you to meet with him in the very diner you met him at.

It felt so long ago. You were just waiting tables at the time, barely making ends meet—and there he was, an Avenger in the flesh, all easy smiles and tender eyes.

Now here you were, nearly a year later from when he broke up with you, fiddling with the cuff of your sweater. You quit your old job a long time ago, having moved away from the small town to pursue a more promising career in the big city, and admittedly, because everything you looked at reminded you of something painful. Whether it be Bucky, or something that reminded you of your father that passed away a while back… it became too much. It was so strange being back—like returning to a place that seemed to remain stagnant in time while you moved on with life.

It was snowing heavily, frost rimming the diner’s windows. The flickering crimson glow from the large neon signs atop the diner seemed to taunt you with its brightness, as if to say: Stop! Don’t go in there!

But in there, you went.

The diner was empty, save for the young teenager manning the cash register, earbuds popped in as she picked at her nails. The checkered red-and-white floors beneath you injected a shot of raw nostalgia through your veins—you remembered the countless hours you spent mopping up these floors, the dozens of instances you averted your gaze to the square tiles so Bucky wouldn’t be able to meet your flustered eyes.

There was a dull sort of ache residing beneath your ribcage upon seeing him again after so long. He was in the process of sipping at his vanilla milkshake, staring at something on his phone with that familiar dip in his eyebrows you had grown so fond of.

The door jangled upon your entrance, and his head shot up. The teenager didn’t bother to look, blowing a small bubble of her gum.

You swallowed uneasily. He had a beard now, you noticed. He was always clean-shaven while dating you. For some strange reason, this seemed to make you even more saddened. It suddenly felt like the break up happened yesterday instead of a year ago.

When his eyes met yours, you had half the mind to turn right around and traipse back into your car. A part of you wondered if he was angry. Maybe he knew about that one shirt of his you kept—or the fact that you would mail small cat toys to his address from time to time because you missed Alpine. Maybe he wanted to tell you to stop hanging out with his friends that inevitably became your friends when you dated him. Maybe he wanted to tell you that he hated you—or that he still loved you.

You had to give yourself a small reprimanding at the last thought. Life wasn’t at all as dramatic as you made it out to be in your head.

He waved you over, and it took longer than you would’ve preferred for your muscles to kick in, legs sluggishly dragging along the checkered tiles.

It was hard to speak, so you remained silent the first few minutes. Bucky slid over the plate of curly fries in front of him closer to you, the secondary milkshake in tow.

“You remembered I like strawberry,” were the first words you said to your ex in over a year, voice hoarse from disuse.

A smile curled at the corner of his lips. “Of course I did. You only got it, like, every date we went on.”

Bucky seemed to have a sort of hypnotic effect on you. You felt yourself huffing out a laugh, feeling slightly light-headed.

He spoke up again. “Thanks for coming all the way here, by the way. Honestly, I didn't expect you to show up.”

“It’s nice to be back,” you admitted. “I miss it here. A lot of, uhm… a lot of memories tied to this place.”

His head bobbed once. “Well, I asked you here because I have something I need you to know. It’s the reason I broke up with you—I know I said it’s because I wasn’t ready, and that was true to an extent, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me but just know that, from the bottom of my heart, I’m so incredibly sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. And I understand if you’d never want to see me ever again—I’ll be out of your life for good after this, I promise.”

“Bucky, you’re scaring me,” you said, hands curling into tight fists in your lap.

“I killed your dad.”

A beat of silence. The air seemed to grow colder. You straightened, spine stiffening to the brink of borderline pain. There was a sheen film of unshed tears over the trembling blue of his eyes, and you were entirely sure you were mirroring his exact expression.

Turbulent was your mind as you processed those four measly words. You wondered how you were supposed to react to such a situation. What would be deemed appropriate when the love of your life tells you that your dad was dead because of his past-brainwashed self?

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice was broken, tentative.

A hot tear traversed down your cheek. You sniffled, lips screwing up in thought.

And after another minute of struggling to maintain your composure, you wiped the tears away and scrutinized him with a soft gaze.

“That first time we met, right here in this diner… you wanted to tell me, didn’t you? But you couldn’t. You just… you looked at me and asked me if I was okay,” you finally said, choking on your own words. “Bucky, you’re not the villain here—you’re also a victim. Should you have told me before we started dating? Absolutely. Should you have left me for a year wondering what I did wrong? Yeah, no, that was a dick move. But do I blame you for my father’s death? No. Bucky, that wasn’t you. The Winter Soldier did that. You were brainwashed and robbed of your right to choose—your right to live. It’s not your fault.”

Bucky was crying now, too, sucking on the roof of his mouth while fighting off the sting behind his eyelids.

“I loved you so much,” he finally croaked out. “It felt like I couldn’t be with you—like I didn’t deserve to be with you. I kept it from you for so long and I’m so, so sorry for that.”

“Oh, Buck,” you mumbled, reaching across the table to intertwine your hand with his flesh on, nudging the plate of forgotten fries to the side with your elbow. “It’s going to take time for me to process this, I’m gonna be honest. But I… I don’t want you gone. I lo—care about you too much to lose you now.” You nearly slipped up, almost saying the dreaded L word.

Did you still love him?

The answer, plain and simple, much to your vehement objections, was yes. You would always love Bucky Barnes. He was sweet and loving and cared for animals, he loved tangerines and plums, he complained lightheartedly whenever it rained, he’d dance with you to slow forties music, he remembered the small things about you, and his favorite place to kiss you was the little spot beside your nose where he liked feeling the remnants of your smile.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” he hiccuped, staving off a wracking sob. It withered away into a wet chuckle at his own absurdity. “I’m sorry, I really thought… I thought you’d react differently.”

“I had a long time to grieve my father,” you admitted, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles soothingly. “It was painful, but I’m healing. I don’t think you’ve had any time to grieve what you’ve lost, Bucky. Let yourself feel it—you’re not the bad guy here. Besides, I forgive you—you only had my best interests in mind, after all. Sometimes a simple sorry is more than enough.”

Bucky could only spare you half of a water smile. “I missed you so much, you have no idea. Everyone back at home does. Sam, Alpine, Natasha, Steve… everyone. You’re always…” He gestured vaguely, unsure of how to articulate all his complex emotions into words.

“I’m always yours.” The words came out a mere whisper of a thing, so quiet that Bucky barely picked it up. After a moment, you cleared your throat and gently relinquished your hold on him, averting your teary eyes to the plate of fries. “So, are we only having cold fries and shakes for dinner or did you order burgers, too?”

“I did—should be here any moment now. I got vegetarian for you,” he quipped, sipping at his milkshake after pulling a tissue from the red dispenser on the table to dab at his damp cheeks. “Extra sauce, just the way you like it.”

Gods, you loved Bucky Barnes.

“I like your beard,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “It’s like you’re a rugged lumberjack of some sorts. Certainly got the muscles for it.”

When Bucky laughed at your comment, all wind chimes and bells and rumbles of thunder, you could feel the tension between the two of you melt away almost instantaneously.

You briefly wondered if he still loved you the same as he would mumble into the skin of your neck, your lips, your stomach, your thighs, your body, an entire year ago—and if there was ever a possibility of rekindling what used to be there.

Maybe, you mused while listening to Bucky begin to describe Alpine’s new fascination with bringing dead birds into the house, your heart’s tattoo of Bucky wasn’t beyond repair.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky barnes drabbles #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes scenarios #bucky drabbles #bucky imagines #bucky scenarios #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot

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zeldaelmo · 2 years ago

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This will be a very niche fic since it's not only Hylink but also modern AU. 😅 I'll trick you into reading it anyway since it's part of the advent calendar. 😬

Content warning for alcohol and callous thoughts.

Excerpt of "Believe"

Link drew his knees closer and pulled the thin blanket of the mobile home over his head like a hood. Maybe that would finally stop his teeth from clattering. He shot the ice-cold heater an equally harsh glare. So what if he didn't have the money to pay for electricity, were they going to let him freeze to death?

Cursing into the white air that his breath left behind, he rested his forehead on his knees, letting as little warmth as possible escape. Yeah. Yeah, they would let him freeze to death. Not here, of course. They would kick him out at the end of the week because he didn't pay his rent either.

His dead phone sat on the edge of the mothy mattress, next to a list with a lot of names crossed out. He hadn't even asked for money, for heaven's sake, he had asked for a job!

"A temp job? Now? It's Christmas, honey. Ask again after New Year."

Woohoo, Christmas Eve, everyone's favorite day of the year. He grabbed for the bottle of cheap whiskey a kind soul had left at the door of each mobile home. The liquid lacked its typical golden shine in the dark. Link raised the bottle towards the window so that the muddy city light filtering in illuminated it and tilted the bottle.

Half-empty.

Stiff fingers fought to twist the lid open. He raised the bottle to himself. "Merry Christmas, Link. May your wishes come true, this year." Snorting, he took a swig, the liquid tingling down his throat. Warmth. Finally some fine old burning warmth.

#wip wednesday #hylink #zelink #zeldaelmo writes #advent calendar

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taem-min-archived · 3 years ago

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Yours Truly || l.tm

PAIRING || Taemin x female reader

GENRES || Angst, Letter AU, Romance, Friends to Lovers AU, Coffee Shop AU

SUMMARY || You sat down and wrote your love letter to Taemin, penning down all your emotions and thoughts of your very strong relationship before it went down the drain. But what had happened? Would he still receive your letter? Or would he throw it away like countless others did? A small part of you wished he would come back to you, even though the reason he left was all your fault

Or, in which there are two kinds of love. And one might have been lethal.

WARNINGS || Blood, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst (I cried too)

WC || 11.8k *nervous laughter*

A/N || Yeah I’m the Birthday Girl and I decided to present my own self a Taemin fic . Also, the spectacular album of MOVE-ing released on my birthday AND its my blog’s one year anniversary so woohoo to me and Taem!! PS: I CRIED LIKE SHIT WHILE WRITING THE ENDING

PLAYLIST MOVE-ing || Day and Night | Move | Love | Snow Flower | Crazy 4 U | Heart Stop | Rise | I’m Crying | Thirsty | Stone Heart | Back to You | Hypnosis | Flame of Love (yes, all bops)

TAGLIST || @foggyinternetchaos @moonsclover @queenmedi @lazycursedchild @shrutiajit @cerisetalks @exoxobsession @nctisthecity @woo-minhee02 @en-sun @buttvi @vllxchor @stayinzencity @tyunnie @joepomonerof @spookydanielle @luvingtyong @mgg-81 @dayskz @hxhaifhdj @jungwoniics @elenaely @tinteathea @hrjemo @xavi-in-kpopland @midnightmoi @whatudoing @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @spacebyuns (If you want to be added to my taglists, fill in this form)

Dear Taemin,

How have you been doing? It's been quite sometime since you...left. And I’ve been so lonely without you.

Yes, I know it's my fault you left, but sitting here all alone in the house on your birthday reminds me of how much we used to fill each other’s emptiness up. We were one, until we weren’t.

Writing this, I remember a lot of things about you. The things we used to do. And the things we could have done if you hadn’t gone away.

I remember you used to like my stories a lot. So here’s a story. A story about us.

A single tear drop fell, sliding down her cheeks into the vast expanse of water underneath her feet.

A drop in the ocean.

What a funny saying it was.

It summed up her feelings now. Her feeling that she was drowning in this vast ocean, sinking underneath as all her pain and worries pulled her underneath, threatening to drown her. She screamed for help, but the water kept getting inside her mouth, choking her even more as no one heard her cries for help.

And as she stood on the bridge, watching the dark waters swirl underneath it, she wondered why didn’t it swallow her up; why didn’t she let herself drown away with her pain.

“Excuse me.”

Her head whipped in the direction of the voice, eyes falling on the young boy of her age staring at her in curiosity. And worry.

“Are you okay, miss?” He asked.

She blinked at him rapidly.

His soft features stood out distinctly underneath the street lights. His eyes were wide with worry and with a pang she realised this was the first time someone had asked her whether she was okay.

No one cared how she was. Especially not strangers.

What had he asked? All of a sudden she forgot the question, as she watched him step a little closer to her, his button nose scrunched up in confusion.

He waved a hand in front of her face.

“Miss?” He asked again, this time the worry evident in his voice.

He has such small hands. She realised. Kind of cute.

“I- I-”

What would she say? That she was okay? Or did she tell the truth? No one had ever asked her this question ever.

But even if she did tell him the truth, would he be able to help her? Or would he just say ‘it will be okay’ like most people did?

All of a sudden she felt his hand brush against his shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise.

“It’s okay. You can tell me. Even if you can’t, it’s okay. Come have a coffee, it will warm you up.”

Five minutes later she found herself in the cafe he worked at, gingerly sipping the hot coffee he had made for her.

“So.” He said, sitting down opposite to her. He gave her a smile, and all of a sudden she felt her heart flutter. It was such a beautiful smile, the way his cheeks and eyes curved upwards as though he was smiling with his whole face and heart. “How’s the coffee?”

“G-good.” She whispered, taking another sip. It was good.

“What were you looking at?”

She looked up at him confusingly, asking him to elaborate.

He jerked his head towards the glass window, indicating the bridge on which they were standing just a few minutes ago.

“Oh.” She whispered, placing the cup down. “I was thinking of death.”

“I see. Was it inviting you?”

She looked at him, frowning lightly. She had expected him to have the usual expression people had whenever she told people about this. But he had just...accepted.

“It was. It was inviting me over to a much better place. More peaceful.” She muttered, staring out of the window once more. She realised how pretty the bridge looked, cars driving back and forth, the street lights shimmering and the city line in the background.

She heard the chair scrape as he got up from his seat and walked over towards her. She looked at him as he stretched out his hand for her to take.

“What’s this?”

“I’m inviting you too. But for a dance.”

She stared at him and he raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a better and more peaceful place too, you know?”

Sighing, she placed her hand on his and he pulled her up, pulling her to the centre of the empty cafe.

Placing his phone on the nearby tables with a soft melody playing, he wrapped his arm around her torso, pulling her in closer.

She gasped at the closeness of their bodies; she could feel his body heat and found it oddly comforting.

Gently, he grasped her other hand in his and she gingerly placed her other on his shoulder.

Slowly, he twirled her, letting the music settle in them.

She had never danced before, she was too bad at it. But now with his arm on her waist, pulling her across the floor she felt a sudden sense of security, like he would never let her fall on to the ground.

The sound of your breathing pulls me

The song flowed through her, and after a long time in her life, she felt a smile flicker to her face. She looked at him, and his smile widened at her attempt to smile, causing him to twirl her even more enthusiastically.

Across the distance to your sad face

He pulled her in even more closer, and she gasped at how close their faces were. He just smirked at her.

The day I was you, the night you were me

On and on they went, and not for a second she felt tired. She felt a giggle threaten to escape her throat as he spun her. She had never danced like this before, never even knew this feeling of different ecstasy.

Time is drunk with us

How long had passed? Did it matter? What if he had to close the cafe? Oh, but even he seemed to be enjoying it and wasn’t even bothering to switch off the music or stop dancing.

I didn’t know how to stop

Is this what people meant when they said time was frozen?

I didn’t know how to hide my heart

She was vaguely aware of the way their fingers fit each other, his small hands feeling soft against her not so perfect ones, the softness of his shirt underneath her fingertips and the way his each breath hit her face, making her eyelids grow heavy.

You and I, we were different before

Finally, the song came to a stop, causing the two of them to finally pause. Their eyes met and she burst out laughing, stumbling away from him. She fell onto one of the chairs, unable to stand anymore due to the amount she was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, clearly amused at her as he came over and sat down right beside her.

“Nothing. It’s just that- oh god I can’t stop, what have you done to me!”

A soft smile came on his face as he watched her, feeling a sudden sensation in his stomach as she beamed at him.

“Better?”

She smiled at him. She didn’t need to say anything, he understood everything through her expression.

Suddenly she glanced at the clock and jumped up. She didn’t want him to end up getting in trouble because of her.

“I- I’m sorry if I kept you-”

“Don’t worry about that.” He said with a brush of his hand, guiding her towards the door, one arm on her back.

He removed his arm from her back to open the door for her and with a jolt she realised how dreadfully cold it was without his body heat, which she had found oddly comforting.

“Will you come back again?”

She turned to look at him.

The street lights were casting the light on his face, causing his features to glow softly and she felt her heart give an odd twist.

“Only if you want me to.” She muttered.

He looked at her.

“I do. I would very much like it if you can come and see me. It gets really lonely here.”

“Then I will.”

Another smile broke into his features causing her heart to flutter again. She barely kept up promises, but for some reason she wanted to see him again and not ruin that smile.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“I’m Y/N. What about you?”

“I’m Taemin.”

“Taemin.” She repeated, the name sounding beautiful to her ear. It rang a bell, a distant memory she couldn't grasp exactly.

Nonetheless she shrugged and waved him a goodbye, not sure if she would see him again.

“What are you writing?”

She jerked at the voice, nearly bumping into Taemin who was peering through her shoulder at the notebook she was writing on. She slammed it shut and glared at him, but he just flashed back his goofy smile, causing her to lightly punch him.

“Is your shift over?” She asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him or the customers.

He nodded, taking a seat right beside her. She was aware of his arm which he had placed on the top of her chair, a few inches away from her back.

“What are you writing?” He asked once more, indicating at the now closed notebook.

She blushed, hands fumbling as she tried to slip in the notebook into her jacket pocket embarrassedly.

"Nothing. Just a...story I'm working on."

"A story you say?" He leaned in until their faces were inches apart, a playful smirk on his otherwise innocent face.

She glared at him and looked away.

He didn't need to know. Everyone always made fun of her, and she was pretty sure he would too.

"Don't forget to give me your signed copy once you become a bestselling author."

She blinked at him, surprised at his statement.

"Y-you think I'll be able to make it?" She whispered.

He tilted his head lightly. This near, she could smell his scent and she felt a calmness take over her as she inhaled his comforting scent.

"Why wouldn't you? I know you'll be good."

"Thank you." She muttered, staring down at her lap in embarrassment. People had always called her dreams useless, a child's dream with no real responsibility in this world. She was supposed to find a job that would earn her family proper money, not feed people's imagination.

"Look at me."

His soft voice caused her to look up at him, only to feel her cheeks explode out of embarrassment as she nearly hit his face.

Taemin laughed, and much as she wanted to be angry with him, his endearing smile was causing her heart to skip beats.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little more closer to him, allowing her to enjoy his body heat. He smiled softly at her once more.

Could people's laughs do that to you? Could you fall in love just by one's beautiful smile?

I'm overthinking. She thought. She could not fall in love, nor could someone fall in love with her.

She was a broken doll, a subject to abuse and tears, meant to be thrown away after people were done playing with her feelings.

"By the way...how did you find me on the bridge?" She asked, fairly curious of that question since she left his place yesterday.

True you could see the bridge clearly from the cafe but one did not simply leave their shop unattended just to check on a girl staring at the flowing waters underneath it.

But she must have asked the wrong question because the minute those words left her lips, Taemin's smile fell.

And she saw an expression she knew very well, pain.

His eyes which usually held all the warmth and love in the world were now replaced with a hollow expression, as he revisited the painful memory lane this bridge must have been holding for him. The colours drained from his cheek, as he swallowed hard, trying to hide the pain and sadness.

But she knew this feeling, knew this horror that haunted her everyday.

He stared at her with a vacant look, his mouth opening and closing, forming soundness words as no sound escaped his throat.

"Taemin?" She asked gently, reaching out to hold his hand.

His soft and small hand fitted into hers perfectly once more. But while yesterday he was just holding hers to give her support, this time she was holding his firmly to give him support for whatever might have happened.

She gave it a squeeze gently and slowly, his eyes trailed downwards towards their entwined hands.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to." She knew how uncomfortable it must be to open up to a complete stranger, especially if you were ignored at home. But there was something about Taemin, the warmth and comfort he gave, the reassurance that everything would be alright which made her tell him the little things she told him. And she hoped that she too was able to pose as an emotional anchor for him.

He took in a ragged breath.

"My mother." He whispered. "My mother she- she jumped off from here-"

"Shhh." She whispered, placing an arm around him to pull him in closer.

"I- I- keep looking out, in case someone-"

She felt the bile rise her throat at this statement. It must have been horrible for him, horrible enough for him to come running to stop a stranger.

Had she ever thought what impact this decision would have had on her family?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, she scoffed.

Did anyone even care about her now? What were the chances that they would after she was gone?

“She’s gone. She’s gone.” He whispered, still staring at their entwined hands shell shocked. She felt her heart give a painful squeeze looking at his hurt face. “She...left me.”

He looked at her and she felt her heart stop in pain. His eyes were watery as he stared at her with quivering lips, like a little child not able to accept the truth. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, wishing all of a sudden she could rob all the world’s happiness just to make him happy.

“Taemin. Taemin. I’m sorry. She must have been in a horrible condition to leave a wonderful person like you behind-”

“If I’m that wonderful, why did she leave?” Tears had now begun to spill his eyes, slowly cascading down his cheeks. “Why? Why did she go away? I tried so hard to be a good son.”

She didn’t speak. She wanted to know what had happened exactly, but she was scared to ask him in case it ruined him more. She hated this. She hated seeing him like this.

It dawned on her that this was the first time she didn’t want to see someone in pain. All her life she wanted people to feel her pain, to endure her sadness and suffer her heavy emotions, always threatening to drown her. But here was someone, someone she had just met and for the first time in her life she wanted him to be happy, to be not touched by the darkness in her heart and to not feel a single pain she went through.

Judging by his words, he must have been young. Much younger than now. She shuddered at the thought of a young Taemin having to hear his mother didn’t just die, but she suicided.

“Taem.” She whispered, the new nickname rolling off her tongue faster than she could stop herself. But it sounded sweeter, more suiting to his young self than the elegant name Taemin. Pulling him into a hug, she rested her cheek over his head, rubbing his arm. Slowly, he stopped crying, but was still shaking in her arms.

He was so warm, the soft fabric of his shirt wanting her to never let him go ever.

“Why did she go?”

“She fought a lot with dad. They fought a lot. Bec-because of me. They fought because of me. They didn’t want me, but at least my mother still forced herself to love me. A-and then she decided I-I wasn’t worth it and s-she just ju-jumped off-”

“Enough.” she whispered softly. "No more going down the memory lane."

He let out one final shuddering breath before quietening down.

The two of them sat like that together for a long time, just holding each other as though they might fall apart if they let go.

She had never hugged anyone, let alone been hugged by anyone but right now, with Taemin in her arms she felt a calming sensation take over her. His soft hair reminded her of something distant, a fond memory of childhood long forgotten. But even though she was the one who was comforting him, holding him in her arms made her feel safe. Like everything was going to be okay one day.

"What about you?" he asked quietly. Slowly, he broke away from her grip to look at her. "What about you?"

"What about me?" She asked him. What else did he want to know about her? For some reason, she wanted to tell him everything about her, she wanted him to know her. It was this strange comfort he always gave her, even if it was just by looking at her, that caused her to feel bare and vulnerable in front of him. Like he needed to know it.

"Why were you standing at the bridge, staring at the water ?"

Her mouth fell, as a tornado of emotions not her all of a sudden, causing the world to go swimming as her head spun.

What would she tell him? That she too was wishing for the same fate as his mother?

No. He already knew it. He said so himself. Then why was he asking again?

"You know why." She muttered, looking down.

He gripped her shoulder tightly, causing her to look up at him in surprise.

"No. No Y/N. You can't be selfish like my mother. Have you ever thought of your loved ones?"

She glared at him angrily, shrugging off his hands.

"Have I ever thought of them? Why don't you ask whether they have thought about me?"

Taemin shook his head.

"They love you. I know they do."

"You think? Or do they love me in the twisted way your mother used to?"

It was like a slap on his face. Taemin stared at her, shock clearly written all over his face.

She got up from her chair before making her way towards the door.

Turning back one last time she said, " Don't pretend like you know me, Taemin."

The sound of the small bell jingling snapped his attention back to the door, his mouth opening wide in shock at the customer appearing.

Taemin stared as Y/N made her way to the counter, eyes on the floor as always.

"Hi." She said shyly, still not meeting his eyes as she stood in front of him at the counter.

"I thought you would never come back. I thought I'll never see you again." He said breathlessly, still stunned by the fact she was there in front of him.

Slowly, her eyes flickered to his and she cleared her throat, causing his stomach to flip.

"I was actually waiting for your shift to get over. I didn't want to disturb you like yesterday."

He felt his cheek heat up.

"About yesterday, I'm sorry-"

She shook her head, cutting him off.

"Don't apologise. You were just saying it from your point of view. And...that's fine. I understand what you were trying to say."

He gulped.

"Still, I'm sorry for being this blunt. I really am."

Slowly, a smile broke on her face and Taemin felt himself mirror hers. She looked away almost immediately, a small blush appearing on her face.

"Can you pinch me?" He asked her.

She looked at him in surprise, blinking rapidly.

"P-pinch you?"

"I need to know you are real. That you aren't my dream."

She stared at him for a while, before slowly raising her hand and bringing it to his cheek. Then as gently as she could, she pinched his soft cheek between her fingers, trying not to hurt him.

But before she could pull away her hand, Taemin grabbed it, bringing it closer to his lips.

Gently he brushed his lips over her knuckles, causing goosebumps to break all over her arms. She prayed that he hadn't noticed it.

"I'm sorry. I was so worried you left me forever-"

"I'll never leave you." She cut him off, smiling at him.

What was she saying? She shouldn't be lying to him. And yet, a small, no a large part of her wanted it to be true, wanted to prove to him that he wasn't the one broken, it was others who couldn't see his beauty.

He smiled back at her as he dropped her hand, leaning towards her instead.

"So." He said, his voice back to his playfulness. "What can I get for my senorita on this occasion of reunion?"

She felt her cheeks heat up even more, looking down in embarrassment. Why was he always so playful?

"You don't have to get me anything." She said shyly.

"My treat. I insist."

"Just coffee will do."

"Would you like a tiramisu too?"

Her eyes shot up to him.

"T-tiramisu? What's that?" Taemin had been quick to his expression, but she nonetheless caught that slight taken aback. Was this something everyone knew?

"It's a dessert. Don't worry about it much, I'll get it ready. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I want to help you-" she started but he cut her off again, looking at her sternly. She felt a giggle escape her, and she made her way to the tables.

Fifteen minutes later, Taemin joined her with two steaming cups of coffee and a platter with a dessert which looked like a cake.

“Is- is this a tiramisu?” She asked, pointing at the cake.

“Yes, try it out, won’t you?” He sat down next to her, already cutting down a small piece with a spoon.

“Here you go.” He said, bringing it closer to her mouth. She blinked at him in surprise, then slowly opened her mouth, letting him feed her. He smiled at her and she felt her heart flutter, a smile coming automatically to her face.

“Am I forgiven?” He asked, leaning closer towards her, his smile growing at her blushing face. She was again hit by his scent, causing her senses to distort as everything blurred away except for Taemin.

She felt his arm go around her back as she moved closer into him. She could feel his body warmth and for a minute she felt the world had stopped spinning, like all the pain in her life was gone.

“This is lovely, isn’t it?” She asked.

He smiled at her.

“Maybe- maybe one day if we could sit on the bridge and-”

“We’ll create beautiful memories.” She completed his sentence. Somehow, she understood what he meant. He clearly wanted to forget the horrible memory associated with the bridge, and for the first time in her life, she was willing to help someone.

She stood outside the cafe, shuddering as another sob escaped through her mouth. She was freezing in the drenching rain.

Oh how she wanted to be in Taemin’s arm, his warm embrace and sweet words throwing away all her pain.

But right now she was afraid to go inside the cafe, did such an expensive place let dripping people enter? She didn't think so. It would be a nuisance for him and his customers. Also the place would be dirtied by her filth.

She was about to turn back and go, when she felt someone catch her by her shoulder and whirl her, causing her to nearly fall into Taemin.

“Y/N! What are you doing getting drenched in the rain?” He asked, and he sounded slightly angry. The grip of his hands on her shoulder was causing the pain in her shoulder to flare up, but she swallowed it up along with her tears.

She started numbly at Taemin, who too was getting drenched in the rain.

His face softened as worry coated his expression.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked softly.

“T-Taemin.” Was all she managed to whisper. Her legs felt weak, and she wanted to crumble to the ground. The physical and mental pain was too much to bear, and the only reason she had forced herself to come till here was to tell him a goodbye.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Love, please respond to me.” He pulled her into his embrace, and pulled her into the cafe.

The familiar smell of coffee and him, his comforting warmth and the cafe seemed to blur out all her pain and the people staring at them. He gently helped her onto a chair.

“I’ll be back.” He whispered, and she nodded subtly. Through the corner of her eyes she could see him telling something to the customers. Slowly, they got up and one by one left the cafe until it was just the two of them.

“Love. Love, tell me what’s wrong.” He whispered, wrapping a soft towel around her wet body and then pulling her into his arms.

His comforting touches caused her to break down more and she sobbed into his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on her back.

“It’s okay. I’m there.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She took in a shuddering breath.

“M-my father. H-he h-hit m-me with a b-belt telling m-me I should-shouldn’t meet u-up with y-you. And-and w-when I-I told m-my mom s-she slapped m-me-”

“Shhh. I’m here now. They can’t touch you now that I’m there with you.” He whispered, gently rocking her. She buried her face into his chest, drenching his apron with her tears. His hug on her tightened and with a jolt she realised she was still shaking, trembling in his arms in fear.

“Where did he hurt you?” He asked her softly, peering at her.

She blinked at him. “M-my shoulder.” She cracked.

His eyes widened in horror as he remembered how he had gripped her shoulder.

“Can you- can you show me? I can try giving you first aid.”

“I-” Her voice died. She looked at what she was wearing. A t-shirt. Showing him her wound would mean removing her t-shirt completely. Taemin seemed to realise that too, because he turned a shade of red. Then getting up, he got another clean towel.

“Here, you can use this wrap yourself. I won’t look, I promise.”

She nodded gingerly and Taemin got up and walked away, keeping his back towards her as he had promised.

Her hands reached for the two buttons but she couldn’t even grasp them properly. They were shaking so much that she was having a hard time to even unbutton them.

“T-Taemin.” She called out, the shivering of her hands not stopping as she thought of her step father, and all the times her family had abused her.

He came running to her side and stopped abruptly as she looked up at him with teary eyes. He sat down beside her and gently took her hands away from the buttons.

“It's okay. It's okay. Just breathe. You are okay.” He whispered, staring at her eyes.

“C-Can you help me?” She whispered, her voice trembling. His eyes widened at her suggestion, a faint blush appearing on his pale cheeks.

“I-I trust you a-and-”

“Okay.” He said, not meeting her eyes yet. Slowly, his eyes flicked to the buttons on her shirt and as gently as he could he unbuttoned them.

“Do you- do you want me to help you-”

“Y-yes please.” Even though she was shivering, she could feel her cheeks heat up too as Taemin looked down. His fingers reached the hem of her t-shirt, and as gently as he could he pulled it off her. She tried not wincing too much at the pain of her shoulder and as soon as the shirt was off her body she wrapped herself up with the towel, Taemin still looking down.

"You can look now." She whispered.

Taemin looked up, his eyes directly flicking to her face as his cheeks reddened again.

Then his eyes landed on her shoulder and he let out a hiss, as he gently raised his hand, lightly tracing over the purple bruise, the cut now more wide open. It had stopped bleeding long ago, but the clot made it look in an even more bad state.

"Wait here." He whispered, before getting up and bringing a small first aid box from the cashier counter. Then, pulling her closer to him, he began working her wound. She shivered slightly at his touch and he froze. But her eyes softened a little and he calmed down a little.

He leaned in closer and her eyes fluttered closed as his breath tickled her.

After a while, the wound was now cleaned and he had applied some medicine to it along with a band aid.

“Thank you.” She whispered. His eyes flickered to hers and she felt her heart skip a beat when she realised how close they were sitting. His breath hit her faces and their lips were just an inch apart.

All of a sudden she got this mad urge to kiss him, to know how his soft plush lips felt against hers, to feel his soft hands cup her face and to hold his shirt again, the soft fabric feeling like heaven underneath her fingers.

Taemin stared back at her, first softly and then with a little more intensity. All her surroundings and pain seemed to vanish as she could do nothing but look at his beautiful face, her stomach flipping as his eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back.

The clock chimed above them and they jumped apart, her heart beating rapidly at the thought of what could have happened had it not chimed.

Taemin glanced up at the clock. “Look at the time! It’s pretty late. Do you- do you want to come with me? To my house? Since-” He began shyly.

“To your house?” She asked, a bit surprised.

Taemin reddened again and looked away, before speaking again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I meant in case you don’t want to go back home or-”

“I would love to.”

He looked at her surprised.

“You- you will come?” He seemed elated.

She nodded.

“I-I don’t want to go back home-”

“Okay, that’s okay. We’ll get you changed but for now you can wear these.” He said, producing a shirt and pants of his. She took without questioning, hobbling to the bathroom in the cafe. She quickly changed out of her wet clothes and put them in the small bag he had given her too.

Finally she walked out and found Taemin on his phone.

“Do you have an umbrella?” She asked, sitting down beside him.

He looked at her in surprise.

“Umbrella? No, I don’t. We aren't walking to my home, it's too far and it's raining hard. I’m calling my chauffeur.”

She blinked at him.

“Ch-chauffeur?” How rich was he? Wasn’t he just a worker in this cafe?

He avoided her eyes.

“You’ll see.”

And within a few minutes she watched a huge black SUV pullover towards the cafe. All of a sudden she felt her throat constrict in fear.

Taemin. Lee Taemin.

No wonder the name sounded familiar. How could she forget? The Lee family was the richest in the city, they were the owners of almost half the buildings in the city.

“Y/N?” She heard Taemin ask, as he raised his hand to place on her shoulder. She immediately flinched away, all of a sudden scared of him.

He froze, and then a second later dropped his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N, I’m not like that-”

“How do I know?” She whispered, quickly edging away from him. He grabbed her arm and she screamed. But his touch was so comforting, like he wouldn’t ever harm her, like he would never betray her and she stopped.

“Do I look like that kind of person? If I wanted to, I could take advantage of you before too, right?” He asked.

She bit her lips and slowly nodded.

“Instead- instead I trusted you. I-I told you a-about my mother-”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, cutting him off so that she didn’t have to hear the breaking in his voice, the choking emotion again. Her heart gave another painful wrench at the very thought of it.

He pulled her closer to him.

“Don’t apologise. I understand.” He whispered, his soft eyes causing stomach to flip.

The honking of a vehicle outside the cafe broke them off their reverie.

Outside a huge SUV was waiting for them, and she reluctantly took Taemin's hand as he helped her to stand up. Closing the Cafe fully behind them, he walked her towards the car.

"Er," she began, her cheeks heating up as Taemin opened the car door for her before she could.

"Get in." He said gently, tapping her back.

She sucked in a breath. Once she got in, there would be no turning back.

Slowly, she clambered into the car, Taemin following right behind her.

"Who is this, master Taemin?" The driver asked, his flicking to the rear view mirror. She felt her stomach turn icy cold as she tried sinking into the seat as much as she could.

"A friend of mine." Taemin said, his voice extremely cool. She turned towards him, as she watched the boy she knew take up the role of someone else, someone who was the rightful heir of the Lee family, and someone who was the leader of the elite circle these rich distinguished people always put themselves into.

"And will we be dropping her off-"

"She'll be coming with us." He cut her off, looking away from the rear view mirror as the driver, no chauffeur raised an eyebrow. Clearly, Taemin did not bring friends with him, let alone female ones, to his home.

The car started moving and she felt herself let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She felt a warm hand hold hers, and she looked in panic at Taemin.

He gently pulled her in closer.

"Relax." He whispered, his low voice comforting her as she nodded slowly. With a jolt she realised she smelt like him, that comforting smell of home that always seemed to linger on him, linger on the clothes of his he was wearing too.

"Do you always go by car?" She whispered, not sure whether you could speak loudly here.

He grinned at her affectionately.

"I do. I have to, rather."

"I don't get it." She muttered, shaking her head as she let the thought set in. She was sitting next to Taemin. Lee Taemin. If he was so rich, why did he work in a cafe?

"You don't get what, love?" He asked softly.

The sudden use of this new nickname caused her cheeks to heat up, and she looked at him shyly. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes lost in hers as he slowly pushed away a strand of hair from her face.

She felt her heart race.

"You don't get what, love?" He asked again.

Forcefully, she tore her eyes away from his face, trying to concentrate on his question. But it was hard, it was hard with him this close to her and her heart skipping beats each second.

"If you are so rich, why do you work-"

His thumbs stroked her bottom lip causing her to gasp audibly. His eyes flicked from her lips to the chauffeur and back to her, and she understood what he was trying to indicate.

"Don't you have school?" She asked instead, her voice slightly high as her stomach flipped at the way he was looking at her.

He smirked.

"Don't you have school?" He mimicked her, and she slapped his arm slightly, wincing at the slight pain on her shoulder.

Taemin immediately noticed that and pulled her into a half hug. She snuggled into him, his familiar scent engulfing her as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“I do have school...but I come here directly after school.”

She didn’t want to pressurise the answer anymore, at least not for now. So she tried engaging herself in their casual talk about daily life. They talked about a lot of things, as though none of them were crumbling under the intense pressure of life.

The car stopped finally, and she peaked out of the black tinted windows. It was still raining hard so she couldn’t make out much of the house except for its hugeness.

The overwhelming feeling was back again. She couldn’t possibly even imagine living in such a huge house, her entire family probably lived in a house as big as one of its rooms.

The door on her side opened, giving view to a butler with an umbrella.

He frowned as his eyes fell on her and she looked down embarrassed, but Taemin cleared his throat.

“Master Taemin. I see you’ve bought a guest.”

“I have. She will be staying with us. Is father home?”

She could see the butler’s jaws working, as Taemin’s grip on her arms tightened.

“No. He isn’t. You are in luck today.”

“Good.” Taemin muttered, nudging her to get out of the car. Soon they were inside his huge home. She had expected it to be warm, there were heaters blasting in but for some reason it was cold, as though no one ever wanted to live here or had any love for this place.

“Master-” A new feminine voice appeared, and froze as the maid’s eyes shifted to her and Taemin.

“Noona.” Taemin said with a smile, and for the first time Y/N felt that his affection for her was genuine. “Could you get us some things to eat? Y/N here would be staying with us overnight.”

The old woman smiled at her and for the first time since meeting the staff of the house, Y/N felt safe.

“Come on.” Taemin muttered, pulling her into a bedroom. She assumed it was his room, as he indicated her to sit on his bed. He left the room and came back a few minutes later with his maid, a pile of clothes in her hand.

“These are my mother’s clothes, they should fit you but.” The woman smiled at her, giving her the clothes and then some soft towels. Then nodding to Taemin she left the room.

Y/N ran her hands through the towel, her breath halting at its softness.

“What’s wrong?” Taemin asked, sitting down beside her, the soft mattress sinking down due to their combined weight. She looked around the room, still trying to comprehend the vastness of the room.

“I hate it here.” He whispered.

She looked at him. “Do you hate the richness, or being locked up here with your dad?”

He sighed.

“Why don’t you get ready? I’ll have some warm food ready by then.”

“Okay.” She whispered. She walked towards the bathroom when Taemin called out to her again.

“I’ll dress up the wound again...but um-” His pale cheeks had flushed again and she nodded, saving him from the embarrassment of continuing.

The bathroom was huge, giving her enough space to carefully remove Taemin’s t-shirt from over her head, trying not to open the wound again.

Finally, she stepped out of the bathroom, not even shivering due to the abundance of hot water he had, comfortably clothed in his mother’s soft clothes. Her shirt was still unbuttoned, so that Taemin could dress her wound.

He was wearing pyjamas, and as she stepped out, he turned towards the bathroom.

“You are bac-” He froze, his cheeks turning red at her almost bare torso and he quickly looked away. She felt a smile on her cheeks as she giggled at his flusteredness, and then slowly walked up to him.

“It's okay.” She whispered, slipping the shirt off her injured shoulder. Still not looking at her, Taemin took a first aid kit from his table and began working on her shoulder.

He was still avoiding her eyes, and Y/N snapped her fingers in front of him, causing him to look up finally.

"Why won't you look at me?" She asked, pouting slightly at him.

His eyes fluttered close as he let out a sharp breath.

"It's just that- I just hate seeing you hurt. " he said.

For some reason, she felt heart flutter at his words. Gently, she took his hands in hers, causing him to look at her. His hands were very soft and warm, and his small fingers fit in her hands easily.

"Why?" She asked, her voice just a whisper.

He sighed.

"It hurts me. It hurts me a lot to see you hurt, upset and unhappy."

She stayed quiet, not sure how to answer this. Y/N could feel her heart hammering and she was sure it was loud enough for him to hear too.

"Here." He said, changing the topic as he pushed a tray towards her. The familiar aroma of hot chocolate filled her nose as she gingerly picked up a cup and a soft piece of cake beside her.

Taemin mirrored her actions but as soon as she took a sip from the cup, a sense of familiarity hit her hard.

"You made it." She said, her eyes wide awake. When Taemin had asked the old maid to get them something warm, she hadn't expected his own drink, the one which always made her relaxed and feel at home. It was a taste she had got used to, but could never get enough of. It was as though it was brewed along with his sweet words which always put her to ease.

He raised an eyebrow. She felt her stomach flip as a thought crossed her mind in this weird time: Taemin was dead handsome, looking at her like that with one eyebrow raised.

"Of course I did. Who else would make it?"

"No I thought-" her cheeks burned in embarrassment. Didn't rich people usually have cooks for them?

Taemin seemed to guess her question, because he answered it on his own.

"Noona usually cooks when dad is home. When he's not, I like to experiment. Besides, I thought you liked my food-"

"I do, I do. I like it a lot." She said, smiling at him and a smile appeared on lips too.

He edged closer to her.

"But I bet you don't like it as much as me."

Her eyes widened at his flirting words, it quickened the pace of her heart but she glared at him instead.

"Don't be so sure. If I finished this drink in a few minutes it's definitely because I like it more than you." She said, placing the empty cup on the tray.

"Well I made the drink after all. Even the cakes and biscuits."

She pretended to think for a while. There was a slight whine in his voice, as though he was demanding to be acknowledged by her.

"We'll see that tomorrow morning."

"Right." Taemin said happily, standing up from the bed. "I'll make you your favourite breakfast. Let me show you your room."

"My room?" She asked, slightly crestfallen. She could hear her heart speeding up again, but this time due to a different reason. All her life she had wanted some privacy from her family, but the very thought of sleeping all alone in this huge mansion seemed to terrify her.

Taemin seemed to notice that.

"Why? Don't you want to sleep alone? Don't worry, my father isn't home-"

"I want to sleep with you." She cut him abruptly.

The very thought of not being able to feel his body heat, his soft touches as his hands caressed her seemed to scare her. She couldn’t imagine being away from his presence and comfort, it scared her too much.

She thought of how a few nights ago, she wasn’t sure if people could fall in love with other people’s smiles or just in a few days but Taemin had definitely proved her wrong.

He was everything she had ever wanted to associate with love. The comfort and warmth he gave her made her feel alive, like she deserved to live finally.

If love was a person then Taemin was definitely love.

“Okay.” He said softly, moving closer towards her. He smiled at her gently, before raising his hand to tuck in a strand of hair behind her ears.

His touch was light and delicate, and she let out a breath. His eyes flicked to her lips before coming and resting on her face again. The room was dimly lit, highlighting Taemin’s soft features. Her breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Have you...ever wanted to pause time?” He asked, his breath hitting her face.

“Now?” She whispered back, aching to feel his soft plush lips against hers.

His smile grew a little.

“Me too. I want it to stay.” Saying so he leaned in more and her eyes fluttered close. Soon she felt his soft plump lips encase hers, kissing her gently as though she might disappear if he pressed his luck too much.

His pillow-like lips encased hers and she felt like she was on cloud nine. Gently, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he tried pulling her in closer by her waist.

The two of them fell onto the bed, not breaking the kiss. She could feel his heart racing against her chest, and his body heat engulfed her with its warmth. He held her close to him, and she hugged him back tightly.

Suddenly he broke the kiss, eliciting a whine from her.

"Your shoulder-" he began and she cut him off with a kiss. She couldn't feel the pain anymore, the only sensation she could feel was the tingling of her cheeks, and the fire burning at the pit of her stomach craving for more of his touch.

Taemin pushed her onto the mattress a little, causing him to roll over her. He broke the kiss once more, staring at her face with such burning passion that she felt her stomach flip.

“I love you.” He whispered, before meeting her lips with his again. She entangled her hands in his soft hair, running through the locks as she sighed into his mouth in content.

“Can you love me though?” She whispered. She doubted anyone could love her but she knew she loved Taemin more than anything else in this world.

“Don’t I love broken people?” He asked back, a small smile lingering on his face.

His mother. He was talking about his mother. And her.

Gently, she cupped his face and kissed his soft lips.

“I won’t leave you. Ever.”

“Promise?” He asked.

“Promise.”

“Come here.” He said, pulling her inside a room with a tug. She giggled slightly as he shut the door lock behind them.

“What’s so funny?” He asked her, glaring at her although a smile danced on his lips. They had just finished breakfast and Taemin had wanted to show her something. The events of the previous night were still fresh in her mind, causing her to giggle even more loudly.

“Nothing.” She said, turning around to look at the room. But before she could see it properly, she felt Taemin push her against the wall.

“No, tell me. What’s so funny?” He whispered, his eyes dancing with mischief as his hot breath hit her face. She felt her stomach flip, but instead she pushed him off her, moving away from his grip.

The room was pretty much like the other rooms, except it looked older. Like it had never been renovated before. But none of its contents had been touched, judging by the slight dust.

“Is this- is this your mother’s room?” She asked, turning around to look more carefully.

She heard him sigh. “Yes it is.”

He sat down on the old bed, and she followed him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

“You asked me why I run a cafe right? It’s my mother’s. For me, going there right after school is an escape from reality, escape from my father and escape from losing my sanity. I need to go there. I hate it here so much that I can’t-”

She took his hands in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I understand.” She whispered. “That’s the reason I write. To escape from my family. But of course people think-”

“It’s a waste of time and potential.” He completed her.

“Taemin, I’m really really sorry-”

“Why did she go?” He said, his voice breaking. She glanced at him worriedly, as a single tear rolled down from his eyes. Gently, she rubbed it away with her thumb and cupped his face, turning his head towards her.

“I don’t know Taemin, I don’t know why she went away. But sometimes,” she could feel her own voice choking as the familiar pain rushed back, the feeling of being sucked in a dark hole which Taemin had pulled her out of. “Sometimes it's hard, so hard to live, that for once you wish to be cruel and leave your loved ones forever. Anyways, they would have been better off without you, not having to bear your pain-”

“Stop.” Taemin whispered, his voice shaking as a fresh set of tears began to fall from his eyes. His eyes fluttered close as he fervently pressed his lips against hers, not wanting to hear each other's broken voices. He kicked her bottom lips softly and she opened her mouth slightly, permitting his tongue enter and explore her hot mouth.

Her heart felt like it was exploding, kissing him seemed to have set ablaze a fire in her heart and she felt the firecrackers go off in her heart.

Finally she broke away and smiled at him, an idea coming to her mind.

"Can I invite you to a dance?" She asked, standing up and facing him.

His swollen lips formed a small smile as he played along with her, "I don't know miss, can you? Can you dance?"

"Hmmm." She pretended to think as Taemin stood up and took out his phone, getting a song ready to play. "I don't know sir, maybe you could teach me?"

"That I can."

Saying so, he grabbed her hand and her waist and twirled her once, as she screamed in delight. Soon the soft melody began to play.

Each note, each note

Gently, he guided her across the floor as the rhythm filled them both. This time she felt her steps were much smoother, much graceful and matching to Taemin's more.

The fingertips that trained me

She was highly aware of his hand on her back and the way he held her other hand. His fingers were soft and soothing, like a calming ocean pulling her towards him.

The breath that blew in Created this melody

He leaned in slightly and their smiles grew wider. Her eyes flicked to his swollen lips and back to his dark chocolate ones and she felt her stomach flip. There was something captivating about them.

Against my desire, I'm cut out for greed

She met his lips and he dropped her hands, pulling her in closer to him by wrapping his both arms around her waist. Her arms automatically wrapped around his neck as he twirled her slowly, not breaking the kiss.

Slow down a little, there's no need to rush

Finally, they broke apart and rested their foreheads against each other, a soft smile on both of their faces.

“What did I do to get you? Is it fate?” Taemin asked, quickly stealing a kiss from her. She laughed.

“I don’t know whether it is fate or not, but I’m glad you saw me that day.”

“I’m glad. I’m glad too I saved an angel.” He said, before pulling her onto the bed.

“There. Make sure it is soft.” Taemin whispered, his lips grazing her ears slightly causing her to shake visible.

His hands were over hers as he taught her how to knead a dough, his chest flushed against her back. She was trying to listen to his instructions as carefully as she could, but him being this close to her was causing her to have trouble concentrating.

They were back at the cafe where Taemin had decided he needed to teach her how to bake cookies, or rather, take this as an excuse and opportunity to hold her and kiss her every second he could.

“Now you do it.” He said, letting go of her hands. The lack of warmth and touch caused her to inhale sharply; his touches were always so soft and soothing she felt too comfortable in them but he wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling himself even more closer towards her.

“Taemin.” She whined, as he nuzzled her nose in her neck. “Are you ever going to let me go?”

“No.” He said. She could hear the mischief in his voice and yet the soft kisses he placed on her neck were so sensual she couldn’t help but close her eyes. “You were talking about your story? What happened to Sooyoung after that?”

She wasn’t sure if her cheek heated up due to his display of affection towards her or due to the fact he was so interested and absorbed into her novel.

“Forget it.” She muttered, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as Taemin rubbed it as lightly as he could.

“No.”

She turned a little to see a rather pouty Taemin, frowning and pouting his lips at her. She let out a laugh, he looked too cute like this, before grabbing his face to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“You must be tired.” Taemin said quickly, turning her around so that he could kiss her again. She bit her lips from trying not to laugh at his eagerness. “Let’s play a game.”

She raised her eyebrows in distrust, sure that he was up to another cheesy flirting game. Taemin pulled a small jar from the counter towards them, unscrewed the lid and picked up a pepero from it.

Oh no.

“So. Do you like chocolate or biscuits?” He asked seriously, inspecting the pepero in his hand. She felt her stomach flip, as she realised once more for the millionth time that Lee Taemin was handsome. Damn handsome.

His eyes flicked to her face lazily and she felt her throat go dry. If it weren't for him holding her waist or her gripping his shoulder tightly, she would have fallen down due to her weak knees.

“Ch-chocolate.” She whispered. Taemin didn’t break eye contact with her as he gently prodded her lips with the chocolatey end, sliding it a little into her mouth. And then, he leaned in closer, wrapping his soft lips on the other end.

Still not breaking eye contact, he began nibbling at the end of the stick. He cupped her face as he reached closer towards her. She could feel her cheeks heating up as her stomach did continuous somersaults.

Finally, their lips brushed and her eyes fluttered close automatically, the familiar feeling of bliss taking over her once again. He tilted her head ever so slightly to get a better access to her mouth, his tongue gently exploring hers. His mouth tasted so sweet, coating her mouth with chocolate as she let out a soft moan.

The jingling of the bell on the door of the cafe broke them apart, and as the man entered the cafe Y/N felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment as she quickly rubbed off the chocolate from her lips.

She smiled at the customer but stopped short on seeing his face. There was something wrong. She didn’t know whether it was because she saw Taemin tense from the corner of her eyes or it was because she could see the cold murderous look on the man’s face and the uncanny similarity between them, but it was enough to give her a hint that they were in big trouble.

The man came and stood in front of them and let out a huge augh. His eyes were focused on Taemin and he didn't even glance once at her.

"What," he said, his voice livid with anger and hatred, "do you think you are doing?"

Taemin didn't speak.

She looked at him and found him frozen, looking at the ground in fear.

"Do you think it's funny?" His father asked, taking a step closer to him. "That you rush here to this petty shop after school and not to meetings I've been arranging to?"

He still didn't speak. Now his hands were visibly shaking and she quickly stepped towards him to grab his hand and give it a small squeeze.

She wanted to say something, but she was scared too. She could feel the familiar fear of horrible rich men bubbling in her stomach as she tried to think of something to defend him.

"Answer me you stupid worthless boy! You are as dumb as your mother!" He shouted, slamming down his hand on the counter.

"Shut up!" She snapped. She didn't know where this anger came from, but she couldn't stand it anymore. Maybe it was because she had enough of him insulting his son or maybe because she knew he was on purpose getting into a sensitive topic to hurt him more. Her step father used these same methods to hurt her and there was no way she was going to let Taemin feel the same fear and pain.

"Shut up. Can't you see you as hurting him? Why are you so insistent on hurting others?”

Mr. Lee’s eyes fell on her, it was the first time he was even noticing her. But then he turned back to Taemin.

“And what sort of people are you mixing with? All sorts of scumbags for your girlfriend. I should get rid of her if this kind of trash you are picking up as friends- ”

“No.”

The two of them looked at Taemin in surprise. He was no longer looking at the ground in fear. Instead, he was looking at his father with such cold contempt it felt like the world had frozen.

“No?” His father asked, clearly shocked at this sudden outburst. “What do you mean no?”

She felt Taemin grip her elbows tightly and yank her towards him, as though his father might reach out from the counter and murder her.

“If you touch her,” Taemin whispered, his voice carrying out in the quiet atmosphere, “If you touch her, I swear I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you in the most painful way possible. I’ll kill you in such a way that you forever remember the pain you gave me.”

To this his father smirked in an amused way. Yet, Y/N could see the slight change in his body language. He was scared. He was actually scared that what Taemin said would really happen.

“Suit yourself.” He snickered, before making his way out of the cafe.

The second he was out, she turned towards Taemin alarmed, just as his legs gave away.

“Taemin!” She managed to catch him, as he held onto her as though his life depended on it. She realised she was shaking too and with a little difficulty, she managed to drag his semi limp form to the nearest table and help him on to a chair.

“Taemin. Taemin. Taemin, look at me.” She whispered, as she cupped his face and pressed her forehead against his. She was sure she had managed to stop shaking by now, but she could still feel herself shaking. With a jolt, she realised that it was Taemin who was shaking this badly.

“Breathe. Taemin, please breathe.” She whispered, trying to hide the panic in her own voice. Slowly, she felt his shaking hands cover hers as his eyes slowly met hers.

“I-I threatened him.” He said, his voice such a low whisper she wouldn’t have been able to hear it if she wasn’t this close to him. “I threatened to kill him-”

She cut him off with a kiss, firmly pressing her lips over his. She kissed him softly, running her hand softly over his face whilst stroking his cheeks with her thumb of the other hand placed on his face.

She felt his hands go around her, pulling her closer towards him.

“It's okay. You didn’t mean it.” She comforted him. His words had shook her but she knew he never meant anything he ever said.

“He was- was threatening to kill you and I-I got scared-”

“It’s okay.” She whispered, smiling at him hoping he would calm down. “You didn’t mean a thing you said-”

“But I did! I did!” He wailed. “He’s the reason my mother died! I’m not going to just stand and watch him do it to you again-”

“He’s not going to touch you or me.” She cut him off with another kiss. There was no way she was going to let Taemin become a murderer. He was too precious, too untainted and angelic for this harshness. If anything, she was ready to become a murderer for him.

“Can you- can you come home with me?” He whispered. He was still shaking and she could feel her heart ache at the sight of him this shaken and scared.

“Where will your father be?” She asked him gently.

“He doesn’t live here anymore ever since he got a new assistant. I suppose he stays with her more. Can’t bear the sight of me-”

“Hush-” She said, pressing a finger to his lips. “Enough of him. I’ll go home with you. I’ll be with you till the very day you stop needing me or loving me. I’ll be with you till the very end.”

“I’ll never stop loving you.” He whispered.

She smiled at him once more before leaning in for another kiss.

The huge sea of students were pushing her towards the entrance automatically, she didn’t seem to even need to move her feet. Which was a good thing too, because she hadn’t eaten anything except for breakfast at Taemin’s place. The whole day she was worried sick for him. What if his father came home and did something to him?

Taemin had wanted to drop her off to school but his school was in the complete end of hers, in the posher areas and she could see his driver looking annoyed at the thought of driving so much. She also didn't want him to be around her neighbourhood, considering how unsafe it was.

As she walked out of the school gate she expected the crowd to thin out. Instead, she found lots of girls, still standing in front of the gate. Frowning at this, she pushed her way into the crowd once more to see what they were staring and giggling at.

She felt her stomach drop in fear.

Y/N marched angrily towards the very familiar black SUV, grabbing the hand of the boy leaning against the door.

“What are you doing here?” She gritted, angry that he could get hurt. She could already see some men too joining the crowd, trying to get a good look at Taemin. “I told you I will meet you in the cafe-”

“The cafe is closed.”

She stared at him in shock.

“W-What?”

“My father.” He began, his voice shaking. “Gave me some money and asked me to get out forever from his life.”

“Taem.” Was all she could manage to whisper. What was going to happen to him?

Finally, his eyes met hers and she could see tears in them.

“I don’t want to force you to come with me.” He whispered. “But- but if you come with me, we could start our life together somewhere else. I have enough money to complete both of our education and-”

“I would love to go with you.” She cut him off.

He blinked at her. Slowly, she felt his arms go around her waist.

“Y-You would? I thought, I thought that since both of our parents are abusive and- and- but if you don’t want to-”

“Taemin.” She said firmly. “I promised you I would stay beside you forever. I love you and I can’t let you go away on your own like this.”

She felt him yank her towards him as their lips met in a quick kiss.

“I love you. I love you.” He kept whispering, as she pulled herself away from his grip. Slowly, they got into his car.

“Do you want to make a stop at your house? If you want something like your novel?”

“Oh yes. I would like to take that with me.” She said. He smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

Finally, they reached her house, if it could be called that and the chauffeur stopped the car.

“You wait here.” She said to Taemin as she hopped off the car.

“No wait for me!” He said, jumping out of the car after her.

“Why are you coming in?” She asked. She didn’t want him to go in. She could never trust her family’s rage, especially her step-fathers.

“What if your step father hurts you like last time? I can’t bear to just wait here right?” He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him.

“Which is the exact reason you need to stay away! I don’t want you to get hurt-”

“And it's okay for you to get hurt? You think I haven’t faced my fathers wrath and I don’t know how much it hurts?” He asked angrily, not letting go of her hand.

“Taemin.” She said, placing their interlocked fingers on his heart. “Please just stay here. I beg you. I’ll make it out of there unscathed I swear.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then the chauffeur honked the car. Time was running out, they needed to have the car till their destination.

Quickly she placed a kiss on his soft lips and turned towards her house, running into the shambled building.

As soon as she entered, she was hit by a musty smell. The dim lighting of the room, despite it being still day, made it difficult to see.

Her eyes fell on the bulky man passed out on the sofa, several bottles of drinks littering around him. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at her step father, trying to make her way to her room before she tripped on a bottle she couldn’t see.

The shattering sound of the glass caused the man to jerk up, and she froze in fear as she watched him get up from his drunk sleep, searching for the intruder angrily.

Quickly she picked up the half broken bottle for defence as she straightened up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain on her foot.

“You.” He grunted, as his eyes focused on her. “Where were you yesterday?”

“I’m leaving. Tell mom goodbye.” She ignored his question. Still she didn’t dare to move.

“I asked,” He said threateningly as he got up and stood in front of her. “Where were you yesterday?”

“I’m out of here.” She muttered, trying to move towards her room.

“We tore your silly little book.”

She froze.

“You did what?” She screamed, all of a sudden livid with anger. She was angry. So angry that she felt almost numb.

“Why did you do that?” She screamed again, advancing at him threateningly. Yet, he didn’t seem to even flinch. Instead, he smirked.

He’s drunk. She thought. I should stop, he’s mad. But it was as though her heart had been ripped out. All her pain, emotions, effort and love had been put in the novel. It was a novel about her sad life. Until she met Taemin. But now it was gone. Everything was gone.

“You didn’t come home for two days. What do you think your mother was going to do? Cry about you? She had to teach you a lesson and this is what you get for running away.

“Ahhhh!” She screamed, shoving the broken bottle towards her step-father.

“Y/N no!”

The next few seconds happened so fast that it was completely blurry in her eyes.

One minute she was swinging the bottle at him, and the next minute she felt someone whirl her away from her step-father.

Her eyes widened with horror as they met Taemin’s, but it was too late. The bottle was already deep inside his skin.

She could feel his warm blood trickling onto her hand as they stared at each other in horror. She could hear a whistling in her ear, like the whole world had stopped.

“T-Taemin.” She whispered, as she felt his grip on her shoulders slack. “I-I told you to stay there. I told you-”

“You screamed. I thought-”

His legs gave away and she caught his body with an anguished scream. Y/N cradled his body towards her, pressing his head against her beating heart.

“No, no, what have I done? What have I done? Taemin! Taemin stay with me, I’ll just call the ambulance-”

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. She could feel blood on her neck now. She felt his soft hands hold her wrist and she looked at his face. Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a horrible sensation filled her stomach.

It was like she had been stabbed instead of him.

“I’m sorry I promised a future for us together and I failed-”

“Shut up!” She screamed, the tears falling down fast now. “Shut up! What are you even talking about? Taemin, Taemin please stay with me! I love you.”

The last few words were whispered through her gritted teeth as she pressed his forehead against hers. She felt his hand slip.

“I love you too.” He whispered, coughing out blood once more.

“No no no.” She moaned, now her tears falling onto his face. “I love you, I love you, please don’t leave me Taemin. I love you so much.”

But the stillness in his body told her otherwise. That he was gone forever.

What a sad story it was, wasn’t it?

All our promises were broken and in the end I did become a murderer. But only…I murdered you. My lover.

I’m sorry it went this way. We could have been more than this, and we could have been with each other forever.

But here I am all alone, unable to even live even one day without thinking about you.

What have you done to me Taemin? What have I done to you?

No. What have we done to each other?

I miss you so much and I can’t wait to see you again.

Yours Truly,

Y/N

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ I loved this fic so so much and I had a great time writing it! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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