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sixhours · 8 months ago

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One Day at a Time - Chapter 7 - Birth

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

It’s December. They passed the date Joel circled on the calendar three days ago and the waiting is slowly driving them mad.

Charlie wakes up restless and frustrated, unable to get comfortable, exhausted but unable to sleep. The baby is restless, too–kicking her ribs, pushing against her lungs, making it hard to take a deep breath. She’s snappish and moody and leaks tears over the smallest things.

They’ve run out of fruits and have settled on calling the baby Pumpkin because it’s the biggest, even though Charlie hates it, she tells him, because the idea of pushing a fucking gourd out of her vagina makes for a horrible mental image.

She’s ready for this to be over.

He’s not ready at all.

On the fourth day, Joel radioes Tommy and tells him to find someone to cover his patrol shift. Something tells him he needs to stay home. He putters about looking for things to do to fill the time. He nails down the loose floorboard in the upstairs hall and patches the tack holes in the wall and fixes the dripping faucet in his bathroom and oils the squeaky hinges on the doors. When that’s done, he goes looking for projects in Ellie’s garage, but she turns him away at the door.

“Nuh-uh, nope. Not happening. The last time you were in here to ‘fix’ something it took three weeks and I ended up with a wall of bookshelves.”

“But you love your shelves,” he says. He looks over her shoulder, eyeing a mostly empty corner. “You could use more storage–”

“You don’t have that kinda time now, dude.”

So he leaves, nesting instinct unfulfilled, and finds himself pacing the floor.

“You’re hovering,” Charlie mutters from her place on the couch after he’s asked for the fourth time if he can get her anything. “You should have gone to work.”

“Like hell,” he growls at the idea of being miles away on horseback, outside the walls and away from her.

They still don’t have a name, a cradle, or any clothes beyond the soft yellow sleeper. Maria, recognizing that the situation was delicate, had dropped off a stack of cloth diapers. They sit in a bag next to the front door, untouched.

That night they assume their usual positions; him propped up against the headboard with his reading glasses and the book, and Charlie on her side, pillows tucked around her in a makeshift nest. His hand finds her stomach, but the baby is quieter now, too cramped to move much.

Charlie squirms, grumbles, shifts, and retucks the blanket and pillows. It takes an hour for her to fall into a restless doze, and he keeps reading the same lines over and over, too distracted and keyed up to sleep. Her stomach tightens under his hand, the baby pressing the hard plane of its back into his palm.

Then it happens again. And again. Every few minutes.

He checks his watch by force of habit, forgetting for the millionth time that it hasn’t worked in twenty years. He notes the time on the bedside clock instead, 10:54.

11:06. 11:12. 11:25.

At 11:38, her hand clutches his fingers and she lets out a soft moan.

“Joel…?”

“M’here,” he says, knowing what she’s going to say.

“I think this is it.”

“I don’t want her here.”

“I know, but–”

Charlie’s eyes are bright and forceful. “Not yet, Joel. I will not deal with that woman. Not yet.”

He gets it. The midwife is the last person he wants to see, either. But she’s the one with the training and experience.

“We have to at least let her know.”

Charlie scowls, then shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Another one?”

She nods, distracted, and he looks at the clock. 1:03.

“They’re not close together yet,” Charlie says when the contraction passes. “The book says five minutes.”

“The book assumes we can go to a hospital,” Joel counters, and she shoots him a black look. “Look, I’ll tell her to stay put until you’re closer, but–”

“No,” Charlie says, soft but firm. “And would you sit? You’re making me nervous.”

He does then, sitting on the bed, forced to wallow in his terror. Had it been this bad with Sarah? No, because there had been nurses and doctors and an epidural that had eased the way considerably if he didn’t think too hard about the length of the needle and where it went.

He’d also been twenty-two and blissfully ignorant. He hadn’t known loss, hadn’t known just how bad it could get. He sees every little way this could go wrong and the fear clutches at his heart and holds fast.

Charlie takes his hand and squeezes. “We can do this.”

He doesn’t know if he can, but he squeezes back and watches as she folds over her belly in concentration when the next contraction takes hold.

She labors on the bed, walking around, rocking in the chair, pressing tight fists to her lower back. He fills her water glass from the bathroom tap and washes his hands fifteen times, even though he hasn’t so much as touched her beyond letting her grip his fingers during the worst ones.

Ellie comes in to get breakfast before school. He hears her downstairs, calling for him.

“Go,” Charlie says from her current position, curled on the bed with a pillow between her knees. “She needs you. I’m fine.”

He’s still dressed in pajamas; gray sweatpants and a white tee, hair mussed and eyes red-rimmed. Ellie takes him in, raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, she’s in labor,” he says. “Gonna be a day.”

“I’ll make coffee.”

“You don’t have to do that, kiddo.”

She eyes him up and down, scoffs. “You need it, dude.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna let Tommy and Maria know…if I can find the damn radio…”

“You brought it upstairs, remember?”

Right. He kept the radio by the bed just in case Charlie went into labor in the night. Of course.

“Thanks, kid,” he says thickly, suddenly awash in gratitude with a lump in his throat.

“Go,” she says, already scooping coffee grounds into the pot on the stove. “I can burn my own toast.”

He doesn’t taste the coffee, or the not-burnt toast Ellie brings up, enough for both him and Charlie.

The midwife shows up sometime before noon and does nothing to put them at ease.

“I need to make this quick. I’ve got another patient across town and it’s not good.”

Joel stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips. “Don’t you have a…a backup or somethin’?”

“Does it look like I have backup?” she snaps.

She proceeds with the exam with her usual curt efficiency as Joel paces.

“You’re three centimeters,” she says to Charlie eventually, shucking her gloves off. “It’s going to be a while. Get comfortable. Stay hydrated.”

And then she’s gone.

Joel wants to follow the woman outside and drag her back and chain her to the radiator until the baby is delivered safely. It’s either that or strangle her. But Charlie’s pitiful moan from the bed douses the flames of his anger immediately.

“Get comfortable? Is she fucking kidding,” she wails, gripping him tight. “I hate her.”

“I know, I know,” he says. “We’ll…figure something out.”

He calls the only other person he knows who has first-hand experience with childbirth; his sister-in-law.

Maria suggests a beer and a bath; something about the alcohol and warm water acting like natural muscle relaxants. Charlie, exhausted and in pain, is willing to try anything. She sips the beer and undresses as he fills the tub, grateful to have something to do.

He helps her into the bath and kneels on the floor beside it, resting his forearms on the rim and watching over her like a sentinel. Her belly rises out of the water, a glazed wet dome, every contraction causing the water to ripple around her as she grimaces and arches and groans.

Sometimes she comes out of her fog of pain and blinks up at him as if seeing him for the first time, and it makes his heart clench.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she murmurs in one of those quiet moments.

“Yeah?” He dabs a washcloth at her temple, urges her to drink while she’s relaxed.

He hears Maria downstairs, probably boiling water and sanitizing things and doing all the things he should be doing but can’t because he can’t leave Charlie’s side.

He’s scared. He’s never been this scared.

He remembers sitting in the hospital and praying when Sarah was born. He wasn’t a praying man, not even then, but it had seemed the only thing he could do. Now he thinks of her, of his first baby girl, and he silently asks for her help. He doesn’t believe in God, but he does believe in her.

“Joel?”

A hesitant voice at the bedroom door. Joel rouses himself from his place by the tub. Charlie has relaxed a little, but the contractions are still ferocious. Her cries echo in the small space and he winces every time, wishing he could do something, anything to take this away from her.

“Be right back,” he whispers, leaning over to place a kiss on Charlie’s forehead. She nods but doesn’t open her eyes.

Ellie is standing in his bedroom looking small and lost.

“Hey, kiddo,” he croaks. “What’s up?”

She hesitates at the door. “Maria’s downstairs. She, uh, said there’s dinner if you want it. We’re gonna watch a movie.”

He nods. “Good. I’ll eat…later.”

“Maria said you’d say that. She also said to tell you not to wait too long or you’ll pass out like your brother did when Izzy was born.”

Joel snorts. “Alright, I hear ya.”

There’s a groan from the bathroom, a low, primal keen of need that Joel has to physically restrain himself from answering. Ellie’s eyes grow wide.

“You okay, kid?”

She swallows hard. “I just…is this, uh…normal?”

“Yeah, sure, yeah,” he says, trying to imbue his words with a certainty he doesn’t feel. “The first one is always slow.”

“It sounds fucking awful,” she grimaces. “Was it like this with Sarah?”

“A little, I guess. I don’t…honestly remember. We had drugs back then,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. God, what he’d give to live in a world with epidurals again. He’d take a needle to the back himself if it meant Charlie didn’t have to go through this. He’d take worse.

Ellie looks at him then, soulful brown eyes, and her face crumples, mirroring the fear he’s kept an iron-tight grip on all day.

“Baby girl,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them and tucking her against his chest. “S’alright. It’s gonna be fine. Charlie’s doing good. She’s strong. The baby’s fine. Just…takes a while.”

“I’m never having kids,” she mutters in a watery sigh, muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt.

He huffs a soft laugh into her hair, rubbing her back. “Don’t blame you. You don’t have to be scared, though.”

He pulls away, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her forehead.

“S’worth it…can tell you that much.”

She drags a sleeve across her face and nods. “Should I bring up a plate?”

“Yeah. That’d be good, kiddo. Thanks.”

Hours pass. There’s a cold plate of food on the floor by the door and a melted bowl of strawberry ice cream next to the bathroom sink. Joel had three bites for dinner; chicken, mashed potatoes, and something green. Everything tasted like paste, which was not a slight on Maria’s cooking, only that he couldn’t take his focus off Charlie. She’d opted for the ice cream and had done better than him, eating half the bowl in slow, measured spoonfuls in between contractions.

Eventually, the hot water tank is drained and the bath grows tepid, forcing her out. She stands in the middle of the bathroom, leaning into Joel’s chest as he dries her off and wraps her in a robe.

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, rubbing her back as she shivers. “You cold?”

She shakes her head. “Just tired.”

“Bed?”

She nods, then digs her fingers into his arm as a contraction hits.

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

“I got you,” he murmurs, although he’s swaying on his feet, so tired he’s slurring his words. He’s been up for thirty-something hours; when he tries to do the math, everything gets fuzzy at the edges. Then he remembers he’s not the one with a vise grip rearranging his internal organs. He forces his eyes open.

“Bed,” he says firmly when she’s no longer clutching at him, urging her along.

She curls on her side and he faces her, giving her his hand to squeeze. She tucks it against her cheek, closing her eyes as her abdomen tightens again. The water and the beer seem to have helped; she’s quieter, at least.

“Hurts,” she whimpers, a permanent furrow taking up residence between her brows.

“I know,” he soothes, brushing a damp tendril of hair from her forehead. “What can I do?”

She shakes her head.

At some point, she slides his hand under her robe. The baby moves under his palm. For now, everyone is safe. For a little while, he can pretend this is any other night, just the three of them tucked in bed together.

Then she arches and moans, grabbing at him, drawing out his name into multiple syllables.

“Yeah, I know, baby. I know. M’here,” he says, feeling the panic inside begin to take over. He’s so fucking helpless he could cry.

Then she kisses him, pulling his mouth to hers, urgent and needy, and he tastes strawberries. She grasps at the hem of his t-shirt, urging it over his head, suddenly desperate to feel his skin. When she pushes his hand down to the small furnace burning between her bare thighs, the message is loud and clear.

“You want…that? Now?”

“Mmhm, please,” she moans, a breathy little hitch that, under normal circumstances, would have him rock-hard and struggling to restrain himself. As it is, he’s too tired to protest. He can’t deny her anything.

They’ve done this dozens of times since they started sharing his bed. She’s soft and swollen and slick under his fingers. The orgasms come easily and seem to dilute the pain. Soon she’s stretched out against him, one leg thrown over his hips, nuzzling into his chest, and neither of them can keep their eyes open.

He’s jolted out of sleep by Charlie’s fierce grip on his hand and a sound that’s almost animal from her throat.

“M’here,” he groans, cursing himself for falling asleep. “Right here.”

He sits up, glancing at the clock; they’d been given an hour and a half of respite.

“She means business,” Charlie mutters through gritted teeth, clutching her stomach and getting to her feet.

“She, huh?”

Charlie doesn’t answer, fumbling with the sash of her robe. “Need…this…off.”

He gets up, helps slide the robe off her shoulders and she leans back into him, naked, hips swaying.

Refueled by ice cream and sleep, she’s restless; no position can bring relief. Time stretches in front of them, a series of back-to-back contractions that force sounds from her throat that Joel has never heard and never wants to hear again.

She finally settles on her knees at the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around him, pressing her face into his neck. Her pained sobs wrench at him, something animal, and it’s all he can do not to cry in frustration. Instead, he babbles outright lies into her hair, doin’ so good baby, s’almost over, almost done, she’ll be here soon .

She , he thinks dully, then the pain comes and her groan into his neck washes the thought away. Her water breaks, a warm gush down her thighs, and he has the sense that things are about to move fast.

“We need to call the midwife,” he whispers, and he knows it’s serious when Charlie doesn’t protest, just nods limply into his shoulder.

He doesn’t remember calling for Maria, but she’s at the door, radio in hand. She meets his eyes over Charlie’s shoulder, gives him a tight look and shakes her head.

There’s no midwife.

Fuck.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes, quashing down his dread. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Time ceases to make sense; minutes pass in seconds, seconds pass in minutes. Towels and blankets appear on the other side of the bed. He’s vaguely aware of Maria’s movements on the other side of the door, thinks he hears Tommy and Ellie’s voices at times.

Charlie remains on her knees on the bed, arms locked around his neck, shuddering against him through every contraction. His back is throbbing from the lack of movement, but he won’t budge unless she tells him to.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. He closes his eyes and holds her and whispers words he hopes she can hear from the depths of her pain.

Later, he’ll blame sleep deprivation for the visions. He sees Sarah, alive and smiling, wearing her favorite Halican Drops t-shirt and handing him a glass of orange juice. He sees Ellie laughing and holding out bright green leaves to a giraffe in the Salt Lake City park. They calm him, silencing the frightened voice inside that reminds him how much he stands to lose.

Eventually, Charlie pulls away, bracing her hands on his shoulders, grimacing.

“I need…I need–”

“Think you need to push?”

“I don’t…know. It feels…different.”

“Different bad? Or different good?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs. “I don’t…I just…”

He urges her backward away from the edge of the bed before another contraction hits. Her fingers tighten on his shoulders and she bears down, a tentative, hesitant little push.

“That was good,” he whispers, grabbing one of the clean towels behind her. “Let’s try again with the next one.”

The next hour passes in flashes, small moments he will remember for the rest of his life.

Joel’s hand covering Charlie’s as she feels for the baby, her panting as she bears down again and again and again.

The pressure of the baby’s head against his palm, the dark, slick hair emerging from the depths of her body as the baby crowns.

The warm, wet weight of a tiny body sliding into his outstretched hands in a sudden, slippery rush.

Charlie’s awed, trembling whisper in his ear, a girl, it’s a girl .

Clutching the child against his bare stomach with one arm as his other arm wraps Charlie’s waist and eases her back against the headboard.

The endless seconds of silence as he rubs the length of her tiny back with firm strokes, c’mon baby girl, c’mon, breathe for me .

The elation when he feels her first breath, feels her tiny lungs inflate under his palm as their daughter comes to life with a roar.

He vaguely registers a whooping from outside the bedroom, but his world has narrowed to three people. He’s kissing Charlie’s forehead, whispering nonsense into her hair, did so good, baby, so good, so good .

Then there’s the baby in his arms, his daughter, and she’s shaking, why is the baby shaking?

Then he realizes it’s him, his hands are trembling, the aftermath of the adrenaline rush hitting hard and turning his limbs to jelly. He needs to put her down, he’s terrified he’s going to drop her, but he can’t make himself let go, can’t stop looking at her, squirming, little legs and arms kicking and flailing as she arches against him, so strong, he thinks, she’s so goddamn strong–

“Please–” he grits out, trying to find the words, feeling frozen as the panic creeps back in.

Then Charlie is there, her hands over his, gently extracting the squalling baby and pulling her onto her chest with soft whispers, yes sweet girl, I know, tell us, I know .

He reaches for the closest thing he can find to cover the child–his t-shirt, worn and soft and smelling like him–and tucks it around her tiny frame. Then he grabs a clean blanket from the stack Maria left on the bed and drapes it over Charlie’s trembling shoulders and back, careful not to cover the baby.

Charlie’s silver eyes are bright and shining as she studies the little girl in her arms, drawing a fingertip down the tiny arch of her nose, her ear, the soft fur of her eyebrows. She smiles so big it makes something in his chest splinter and crack.

He wants to make her smile like that for the rest of his life. He wants to cover their bodies with his and hold them still in this moment forever, keeping the rest of the world at bay.

But he can’t, so he tries to make himself useful. He cuts the cord. He fetches warm washcloths, strips the soiled bedding, fusses, and paces until Charlie catches him by the arm as he’s checking her full water glass for the second time.

“Joel, stop,” she says softly. “Look at her.”

He’s afraid if he stops, he’ll break the fuck down, but she pulls him onto the bed next to them.

“Look at her,” she repeats.

The baby turns her head toward her mother, seeking, and Joel watches as Charlie attempts to latch her, the tiny mouth closing over one dark nipple, and his heart feels like it’s going to turn inside out.

He walks downstairs on wooden legs to expectant faces. Ellie, perched on the couch next to Maria, lights up when she sees him.

The words catch in his throat. “You’ve got a sister.”

The relief on her face is palpable. Then she’s off the couch, meeting him at the foot of the stairs. She almost reaches out, then hesitates, like something might have changed between them.

“C’mere,” he mutters, folding her into his arms, and that’s when the tears finally come, relief and joy and sadness all muddled together. He holds his daughter, a lifeline to his past and a gateway to his future all in one.

He meets Maria’s eyes over her shoulder and gives her a silent nod of thanks. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to do enough work around Jackson to pay for her kindness.

“You can, uh, come up and see her,” he sniffs when he can safely speak again. “Both of you.”

“You go,” says Maria to Ellie. “You need some time together. As a family. I’ll bring Tommy and Izzy by later.”

Joel’s throat closes up again. As a family.

“C’mon, kid,” he chokes out. “Let’s go meet your sister.”

The midwife misses the birth by three hours. When she finally arrives, she looks haggard, with dark circles under her eyes and her sharp tongue dulled. She assesses Charlie and the baby with her usual efficiency, but she’s quiet about it. Maybe she finally senses Joel’s mood, or maybe she’s just as exhausted as them.

She asks them questions about the birth, examines the placenta, and makes a few notes.

“The bleeding should taper off after about a week. Some cramping is normal, but if you’re soaking more than a pad an hour, you need to tell me.”

Joel still hovers, hulking over the midwife with his arms crossed, biceps flexing, jaw set. If he thought he felt protective over Charlie before, the baby’s presence has made him fucking feral. He’s practically vibrating when Joanie takes the baby to examine her and weigh her, and Charlie’s touch on his arm is the only thing that stops him from growling and spitting like a wild animal.

Joanie unwraps the baby from her bundle and listens to her breathing and her heart, tests her reflexes, and nods, apparently satisfied. Then she swaddles her back up and hands her to Charlie.

“She looks great,” she says flatly. “You’re lucky.”

The unspoken implication gives him pause; others had not been so lucky.

“Put her on the breast every hour,” Joanie continues. “Let her nurse as much as she wants. It’ll help your milk production and boost her immunity. If she starts losing weight or she’s not getting enough from you, there’s a donor program. We don’t have formula, but she won’t starve.”

Then she’s packing up her things, saying she’ll be back in the morning to check in, and to radio if there’s an emergency.

“And congratulations,” she says before taking her leave. Maybe he’s delirious from lack of sleep, but he thinks he sees the old woman crack a smile.

“So what’s her name?”

That evening, Ellie holds the baby in her lap in the rocker, cradling her bundled sleeping form along her thighs with her head cupped in her palms.

Joel looks at Charlie, raising an eyebrow.

“You still haven’t named the poor kid? Sheesh.”

“She’s eight hours old,” Joel grumbles.

“Consider us open to suggestions,” Charlie yawns.

Ellie considers the little bundle in her lap, sizing her up. “How about…Sally Ride? Sally Ride Miller.”

She looks at Joel expectantly.

“Uh…”

Then her lips twitch and she can’t hold back her smile. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, dude.”

“Oh,” he sighs, a hiss of relief.

“They’re too easy, kid,” she murmurs to her baby sister, still grinning. “Too easy. We’re gonna have so much fun, you and me.”

Joel feels his knees hit the back of the bed and he sags down, watching his children. There’s that pesky tightness in his throat and a fullness in his chest, and he distantly feels Charlie’s hand in his.

“But seriously…the kid needs a name,” Ellie says. She considers the baby thoughtfully, then softens. “What about…Anna?”

Joel digs deep into his tired memory. “After your mom?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, then shrugs. “But she kinda looks like an Anna, too.”

Charlie smiles, squeezes his hand. “Anna? I like that.”

“Anna,” he agrees thickly, the only word he can choke out because he’s fucking crying again.

The first night passes in shifts. They don’t have a cradle, so they take turns holding the baby– Anna, he thinks, she has a name now, Anna –while she sleeps, in between feedings and diaper changes.

Joel knows he should sleep, but he doesn’t want to miss a second; Anna’s barely there weight in his arms, the way his hand spans her back, the softness of her downy head. She smells like her mother, all warm milk and honey. Sometimes she looks up at him with big, gray eyes that remind him of Sarah’s, and his heart cracks and mends itself and cracks again.

In the morning, he comes out of a doze to the sound of voices and the smell of food downstairs. Charlie is nudging him, baby at her breast.

“We have company. She’s done and I want to shower.”

He wipes at his eyes and takes the baby, holding her to his shoulder to rub her back. He whispers her name, marveling at how perfect it feels on his tongue.

Charlie moves slowly, visibly achy, and he gets up to wrap his free arm around her waist, giving her something to hold as she makes her way to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

“You okay?”

“Just sore. Hot water will help,” she murmurs, but she lets him lead her to the bath and leans on him when she strips out of her clothes.

He stays in the bathroom with the baby on his chest, trying and failing not to hover even when Charlie has stepped into the shower and turned on the water, steam rolling out from behind the curtain along with a groan of pleasure.

“I’m fine, Joel,” she says, poking her head out, then looking down at her feet with a grimace. “It’s a fucking bloodbath in here. You don’t need to see this.”

He leaves reluctantly, keeping the door cracked, then pulls out clothes–sweatpants, one of his t-shirts, underwear, wool socks, one of the thick cloth pads Maria must have brought up with all the other linens.

Anna begins to fuss, so he lays her on the bed and attempts to change her diaper, missing the ease of disposables and their velcro tabs.

“I know, kiddo, almost done,” he mutters as Anna protests the cold, kicking as he fumbles with the folds. It’s coming back to him slowly, the rhythm of the early days with Sarah familiar but also new. Eat, diaper, sleep, repeat.

After a thought, he pulls the yellow pajamas out of the nightstand and dresses her. The outfit is too big, bunching around her legs and arms, but he knows it won’t stay that way for long.

“Better?” he asks when she’s curled against his chest again, warm and soft in the fleecy pajamas. She doesn’t answer, of course, but she quiets, wide eyes blinking at nothing. He finds himself talking to her, low and slow as he paces.

“Been a long day, huh? Think you’ll let your mama sleep for a bit? You did a number on her. And me. Took your damn time,” he murmurs, smiling into her hair. “But that’s alright. Lotta folks excited to meet you, y’know.”

He doesn’t know how long Charlie has been watching from the bathroom doorway, wrapped in a towel, smiling faintly. Her eyes are dark-rimmed and there’s a trickle of blood dripping down her inner thigh, and he thinks she has never looked more beautiful.

She dresses slowly, then reaches for the baby, eyeing the yellow sleeper. “Where’d you get this?”

“Found it at the post a while ago,” he murmurs, ducking his head. “Reminded me of Sarah.”

“It’s perfect,” she smiles softly, then gives him a hesitant sniff, wrinkling her nose. “You need a shower, too.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Mmhm.”

The thought of being separated from them for even a minute makes his skin crawl, but he ducks into the bathroom and shucks off his clothes. He barely feels the water, probably doesn’t get the soap fully rinsed from his body and doesn’t care. Charlie has already taken Anna downstairs by the time he gets out, and he throws on sweats and a t-shirt, not bothering to comb his hair.

He hears their voices drifting up the stairwell—Tommy’s low rumble and Isabel’s toddler giggle and Maria’s soft cooing over the baby, Charlie and Ellie’s lighter tones mingling in.

The sounds stop him on the landing, where he grasps the railing and leans against the wall for support. For one bright, painful moment, he could swear he hears Sarah’s laughter among them.

#fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #babyfic #pregnancy

122 notes · View notes

mister13eyond · 2 years ago

Note

5 and 8 for either?

Since I answered these both for Vin, I'll answer them for Asphodel too! 5.) What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.)

Asphodel is unfortunately a frustration cryer, and they hate it. They're frequently anxious and can be easily frustrated with or by circumstances going wrong despite their best plans. This drives them insane because they're the type to try to rationalize everything and make sense of everything, and it drives them insane when their mind is working through something but their body won't stop making these stupid tears while they're trying to think.

That's why last time they cried was over something minor but deeply obnoxious; they had ruined one of their old but incredibly well-loved and sentimental items (a silver-handled mirror) and in trying to fix it had wound up breaking it worse. The thing that irritated them worst about it was that the more they tried to fix it, the more they messed it up, and their increasing frantic attempts to undo the last mistake they just made wound up bringing them to tears.

They know themself well enough to know at that point, they simply have to step back, let themself cry it out and come back to it later. They're fairly private and don't like to talk about things until they've had time to think it out, so they prefer to go somewhere private and let the waterworks happen and then come back when they feel better.

(And they did! They realized that even if the glass was unsalvageable, the silver handle could still be used for something else, and they wound up using it as decor.)

8.) Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

Asphodel has the larger of the two rooms in theirs and Vin's apartment, because they had far more furniture when they moved in, and because they had previously been in a small studio apartment with nearly no space for their possessions and so Vin was happy to concede the larger room in exchange for them helping to fill the living room and kitchen, which were nearly bare when he moved in. They have a small vanity which mostly has hair products, pins, clips, styling tools, et cetera. They don't really wear much makeup, but they have a lot of hair, and in order to keep it healthy and maintained they need a lot of care to it.

The largest part of their room is bookshelves; they try to destash and donate or resell any older books that they haven't touched in a while and keep a manageable collection, but their idea of manageable is probably most people's 'excessive'. They try to have no more than two full bookshelves' worth, and try to roughly split that between fiction and nonfiction, but they tend to impulse buy things based solely on interest in the cover or title, and so they wind up with several small stacks tucked between the two shelves where things have begun to overflow.

Their bed is an old wooden bedframe that is both serviceable and also a little worn; it's sturdy, but it's seen better days and probably needs to be sanded and re-varnishes. They have an excessive amount of blankets and pillows, as they are the type to lay on the bed while they read and so they have quite a lot of bedding that's for propping up on or lounging against. They have some cute, themed decor- a cute lamp, a few framed pieces of art, a matching duvet set and rug that all fit in the same color theme.

They do not have as much laundry as Vin, but that's because a lot of their clothing is made of natural materials and simply isn't meant to be washed with the same frequency or process as Vin's is. They have a lot of real wool items especially, which they tend to hand wash and hang dry instead of running them through the washing machine. They try not to let more than a single basket of clothing build up at a time, since this takes so long, so they're fairly on top of it. They're always rolling their eyes when Vin has to do his fortnightly "i ran out of underwear" wash and has to run the washer and dryer nonstop while he's trying to purge all the laundry from his room.

ALSO i didn't realize this wasn't in the ask and wound up answering it too, so have a bonus 10 for Asphodel as well!

10.) What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.)

Since Asphodel makes and modifies a lot of their own clothing (they're excellent with a sewing machine), they're the type to add absurd amounts of secret pockets in their clothing. They always try to have at least enough pocket space to hold a wallet, a phone, housekeys and a small makeup bag in. (Their wallet is leather and they've had it so long that the edges have worn soft; they keep nothing but their (current)(human) ID, one bank card, and around $25 cash in at all times.) (Their phone is an iPhone 5; Vin cannot convince them to get another one. If they had their choice, they'd still be using a land line. They use it exclusively for phone calls and texts. They have one app besides that, which is a word scramble game that they play when they're stuck in line or on public transport.) (Their keys to their and Vin's apartment have a holy talisman of theirs as a keychain. It's just a little safekeeping. They scarcely need to use it. But it's reassuring to have something of a ward of protection on their keys.) (Their makeup bag contains chapstick, concealer, a brow pencil, a small compact of powder foundation, and a small travel sized perfume bottle that actually contains holy water.)

#my oc #my ocs #asphodel #headcanons #my writing

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years ago

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Vampire Play | Lee Jeno

▸ Jeno x reader ▸ Fluff, Angst, Smut, Vampire au ▸ HALLOWEEN SERIES: 127 HOUSE ▸ 2/5 for NEOHALLOWEEN writing festival hosted by @nct-writers

Summary: The division of upperclassmen vampires and the humans at school, is the only thing that’s stopping Lee Jeno from loving you entirely. Like how vampires hide in the shadows, your growing love for each other is needed to be kept hidden because Jeno’s family cannot be involved with a human such as you. The family name should stay pure and untouched.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: Discriminations between vampires and humans, blood, more blood, heavy vampire-human bullying, blood sucking, swearing, mentions of other idols, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, stalking, teenagers breaking the school rules, not a warning but Jaemin is a big character here. Mentions of coffin, period blood jokes, starving students

A/N: Pure fiction and inspired by some movies of course. Regarding Jaemin, idk tell me if I should make his story. He was the first one to have a human girlfriend so... Inspired by Vampire Academy, Slaughterhouse Rulez.

Taglist: I hope I didn’t miss anyone, if yes please do message me so I can apologize huhu @ovelha-colorida-v @huangxx @soondaengie @sunshinedhyuck @your-kpop-cafe @bumblebeenct @joyfuleggsfishbanana @floweringtheflowers @neosculptures

The sound of the school bell welcomes you to your new school as your parents drop you off and watch you reach their dreams. That’s right, theirs. This isn’t what you wanted, but thinking about how your parents worked so hard for you to have a great education is enough push to force yourself to study and like this place. It was their dream for you to go to an exclusive school such as 127 House. A place where the finest kind of vampires go to school, and a place where rich humans like you are given the opportunity to have the same education.

Sounds fun? It does, but the division between humans and vampires is taken seriously in 127 House. Actually, it’s not a division, it’s discrimination.

Yes, you go to the same school with the vampires but those bloodsuckers are treated royalty. Humans are not allowed to be friends with vampires, talking to vampires is strictly prohibited, fornicating with a vampire is a major offense, and having a relationship with a vampire can get you kicked out of the school. It says in the student handbook that they have all these rules and divisions to protect the royal bloodsuckers and to maintain peace and order inside the school.

“You’re going to do your best, right?” your mom asks, you see the headmaster waiting for you to say goodbye to your parents.

“I’m going to be fine, drive home safe, okay? See in you on Christmas” you hugged them and gather your things and walk towards the headmaster. The house is all white you noticed, even the door is white and you thought that the house will finally have some color once you enter the premises, but no. It’s still white and the place feels cold. White walls, white ceiling, no ray of sunshine, well that part is understandable. At least the interior is nice.

Before the assembly officially starts, you’re blessed to have a friend to at least warn you and tell you about the dos and don’ts in this school. Yeji, your nice roommate. Being a sophomore transferee is not easy, because no one does that. Literally, you’re a fresh meat, in a house where 50% of the population is vampires. You’re the only transferee and that makes you an automatic target to the bullies. High school.

You fixed your things and made your bed, you make sure to look presentable on your first day of school. Going to school in the evening is something new to you and you pray that you don’t sleep in one of your classes tonight. Given that it’s a vampire school, humans are required to adjust and follow the vampire time table. That means sleeping during day time and having classes in the middle of the night.

“Stop fidgeting, or the cold bloods and other humans will make fun of you” Yeji whispers while you two come down the stairs and head to the main hall. You scan your surroundings without turning your head too much and try to observe secretly. Not much happenings, for now, the only thing you found out is that human students are all dressed in black uniforms, all looking rich and righteous. Not your normal high school classmates.

As you enter the main hall, the vampires are not yet seated in their rightful place. Humans are all seated at the back and are not allowed to chatter loudly, and vampires are seated upfront with teachers and higher ups, they can do whatever they want. You have never seen a vampire up close, you just imagined them to look pale and lifeless, that’s all nothing special.

“Hey,” Yeji whispered so quietly, you barely heard her. “Once the vampires are here, don’t you dare look at them, no head-turning, wait for them to be seated” you nod your head as an acknowledgment of what Yeji said. Being a transferee is making you anxious already even around your own kind, now you’re curious what can a vampire’s presence do to you?

Soon, she nudges your elbow and told you to look down because they’re finally here. In the corner of your eye, you don’t see any of their reflection on the shiny and clean floor of 127 House, but you hear footsteps and low chatters, the air became cold like their bloods while they were walking on the aisle and that alone gave you goosebumps.

When it’s finally allowed to look upfront, curiosity is swallowing your mind. You didn’t listen to the one talking in front and you spend the entire time looking at their backs. All dressed in white with a small shade of light blue, pure like their families, even from behind they all look like gods who blessed the Earth with their presence. Each and every one of them, are very beautiful, if the men looked like gods, the ladies looked like angels without wings but with fangs.

One vampire definitely caught your eye. Blonde hair, skin as white as snow, sharp jawline, perfect nose, and dark almond eyes. You can’t stop looking at him and you can hear your heart beats faster than usual for no reason. “Lee Jeno” Yeji whispered to you while keeping her eyes upfront. “He runs this school and everyone is afraid of him, he’s from a family that breeds the purest vampires of all time. Filthy rich, untouchable, can speak seven languages and oh, every girl in this school fantasizes about him. But not me of course, I fantasize about Hyunjin over there” you looked in the direction that she told you.

As soon as the assembly is finished, you’re back to bowing your heads until the last vampire leaves the room. You realized that this is going to be your new life for a whole year and until you graduate from this school. One day at a time, you sigh and tell yourself.

High school is high school. But every day in 127 House is like a game of chicken with all these bloodsuckers bullying humans. Being invisible is almost impossible, they always find a way to make fun of humans. The bullying system made you change yourself. You used to be a fun person and you love talking to your friends, but now you go to class, listen to new learnings, avoid every vampire you see, go to church every Sunday, and do it again. Human or not, you try to avoid friendship.

Day by day, you spend it exactly how you spend it yesterday. It was sickening and boring, you miss your family and friends and you wonder if they miss you too. The only coping mechanism you’re allowed to do is read books in the huge old library of 127 House. Luckily, the other students aren’t interested enough in the books that this library holds. They prefer eBooks, and they all use the new library where computers and tablets are used instead of actual books. The old library was your safe place, away from the abnormalities that the world holds. You go here before you go to school, and spend your whole day here every weekend alone and unbothered. Or so you thought.

Little did you know, there's a pair of eyes who watches you in the shadows of the tall bookshelves whenever you visit. The same pair of eyes are amused whenever you smile while reading a book. The same pair of eyes is slowly being fond of you each day passes. Of course, he wouldn’t dare bother you in your safe place, he’s not that cruel or selfish. But one fine day, he decided to show up.

“You’re new here”

You were just about to get out of a dusty aisle when suddenly a man dressed in white and blue cornered you. As quick as you can, you covered your face with the book that you’re holding and didn’t dare look at his perfect form and completely avoiding the cold blooded man.

This is their way to put humans in trouble, they talk to you and pretend that they wanted to have a decent conversation, but no. One moment they’re staring in your eyes like you have the same status in life and the next thing you know, you’re in the headmaster’s office for a scolding. It’s one of their many ways of bullying humans. Vampires are all bullies, they enjoy it.

“Hey, I’m your senior and I’m talking to you. There’s no one in here, it’s just the two of us” he reasons out, frustrated because you won’t even look at him. Still avoiding his holy presence, you walked past by the vampire as fast as you can but he followed you until you reach your seat. What’s with these cold blooded creatures?

“If you don’t talk to me, I’ll make up a story and tell it to the headmaster. If you leave, I’ll tell him you touched me” it was a threat and you don’t like it. Even so, you stopped fixing your things and took a sit. He sat on the table across you with his books and his notebooks, you figured he has some studying to do.

“I’m Jeno”

“I know” your responses were quick and straightforward as possible.

“So what are you reading?” he asks, you see him holding his pen, ready to write down notes perhaps. He doesn’t look like the cold blooded Jeno that you usually see during general assemblies or free period. Now, he looked like a person, who’s pale but still handsome and ethereal. You lift the book and showed him the cover to answer his question, you didn’t even bother to let out another word from your mouth. It’s obvious, he’s trouble.

“What’s your name?” he asks while writing in his notebook.

“Y/n”

“How's your stay in 127 House so far, Y/n?” his smile was inviting, and you know that you shouldn’t stare because looking at his perfection is like committing a sin, but you couldn’t help it. You took the chance to get a better look at his face. For the first time.

“Sorry I have to go” and just like that, you gathered anything you could reach from your stuff and leave your other things on the desk. You can always come back during the daytime, where they’re all asleep. You bolted outside the library and with heavy breaths, ran back to your dorm room and did not tell anyone what happened.

Talking to Jeno even though it was barely a conversation was like stealing a huge amount of cash from your parents. Even though he looked nice the whole time, you still can’t trust the man. With that, you can only hope and pray that the Lee Jeno did not make up stories just for his entertainment.

The next day during the general assembly, you saw Jeno in front with his usual vampire might. Even more ethereal than yesterday. As you go on with your day, you went to class with caution. Hoping that you’re not going to be called to the headmaster’s office. And thankfully, you survived the day. What a relief, you thought! You headed back to the library to get the things that you left yesterday and to your surprise, your stuff was nicely organized. He fixed your things and left you a note.

Sorry to have scared you. -L.J

You read his short note over and over again, smelling the scented paper that he used, it smelled like a rose, and didn’t notice him sneak beside you because you were busy putting your stuff inside the bag.

“You’re back,” he said a little lively, and it completely startled you that he almost gave you a heart attack. Given that the library is huge and quiet, your squeak echoed and surrounded the place. And again, you avoided his gaze and tried running away for the second time but he’s quick to block you.

“Hey, didn’t I earn your trust? Not even a bit? I don’t bully humans… they just happened to be scared of me” he explains. Still, it doesn’t make any sense to you. “Look, I’ve been watching you read a bunch of books in here for days. And this has been my favorite place ever since I stepped foot in this house, no one dared to enter this wretched library. We could share” he hands you your notebook from the desk and you accept it slowly.

“Okay,” you said, still uncomfortable with his godly presence.

“If we're going to be friends, you should stop doing that. It will not kill you to have a decent conversation with me. As I’ve said before, we're alone in here”

Friends? Who told him you wanted to be friends with him?

“Not that you actually care, but I’ve read almost 30% percent of the books here. They’re quite old but golden…” He continued talking about books like the smell of your blood doesn’t bother him at all. It does. But he would rather hold his breath than losing the chance to be friends with you. By the end of the day, you brought some books that Jeno have recommended you read. It kept you all night, turning pages until you finish one book, and the next thing you know you’ve finished reading all of them. He was right about the books. The vampire has taste.

During your next meeting at the library, you talked about how the books that you’ve read and he was happy that you loved them. “Show me more?” it was not a request, but it was your move and the only way you could give back to the kindness that Jeno showed you.

Books after books and after a few days, you and Jeno became comfortable with each other. Comfortable enough to laugh and make jokes as if you’ve been friends for a long time now and completely forgetting the cruel world outside the white walls of the library. It was a growing friendship. A unique friendship that you’re both aware of.

Little did you know, that the vampire has grown a huge crush on you. He has never seen someone so full of life and be happy with even the smallest of things. You’re the epitome of simplicity but also too much and too good for him.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Jaemin slapped his friend with his free hand while they were busy feeding. He noticed that his friend was spaced out for some time now, smiling alone like an idiot, and there’s something different with Jeno these past few days. “Ohhh. I get it. You have a shiny new toy” Jaemin teases Jeno while taking a sip of cold blood.

“You’re the one who toys with the humans, Jaem not me” Jeno defends, taking a sip of his cold blood too.

“So what are we going to do this time? Make them cry, huh?” it’s easy for Jaemin to talk about things like that. Jaemin bullies mostly human girls, he’s quite irresistible with those pearly whites, perfect fangs, sexy built.

Jeno chuckled and smiled at Jaemin, “I’m going to love this one. She’s different from the other humans, she’s not selfish. She just wants to survive high school and she loves books” there was a smile on Jeno’s face while he was talking about you, something Jaemin never thought he would witness. Jeno is in love. He gulps, knowing all too well that his friend is in danger.

“For how long?” Jaemin asks nervously, hoping that there’s still hope to pull Jeno out of this dangerous situation.

“For three. Lovely. Weeks” he smiled, oh so lovingly to his friend again. “Don’t tell the others, please” Jeno knew that he could trust Jaemin no matter what, and for that, he’s thankful.

You and Jeno continued being friends, see each other in the library, spend hours and hours talking and knowing each other deeply. And as you continue with this friendship, his handsomeness is becoming harder and harder to avoid each day that passes. “I like your smile. You should smile more often” you blurted out, feeling brave to talk like that to Jeno. He smiled at you in return, his eyes became small and full of life even though the man has no soul. It’s like he has this duality that whenever he’s outside the library, he is this cold blooded creature but when you’re alone together he is this funny guy who’s clumsy and talks too much.

Of course, you don’t know, but Jeno goes to the library not because of the books anymore. He just wants to meet you and be with you, make him forget about the world that he grew up to, make him forget that he’s a vampire. Let him admire your beauty, be drunk on the smell of your blood. For Jeno, feeling your warmth near him makes him feel that he does exist in this world.

The truth is, he’s disgusted with the world outside this library. Sick of all the rules that this school implements especially the horrible division. Because of that division, he can’t do something for himself, just this once. But for the sake of their family name, he’s forcing himself to play it all out and pretend that it doesn’t sicken him.

One cold night during free period, you saw him and his friends walking towards you and Yeji in the middle of the hallway. You don’t know what came into your head but you didn’t avoid the presence of the men in white and with all your confidence, you said “Hi Jeno”

It broke your heart how he didn’t even spare you a glance, you saw it in your own eyes how his face shows no emotion when he heard you call his name. His friends heard your bravery and of course, they made fun of you, laughed at you for failing to have Jeno’s attention. What came into your head? Did you forget the division because you have a secret friendship with him? That horrible experience slapped you with the ugly truth again. Vampires don’t mingle with humans. You decided not to come to the library ever again, live peacefully behind their shadows, and enjoy the world class education that this school provides. As you should. Keeping yourself invisible became easier as you made new human friends that you could actually mingle with. It was nice having new friends from your kind, it makes you forget about the friendship that you had with Jeno too. But there's no other friend like him.

“Hi there. I’m Jaemin” the vampire cornered you with all his glory, standing in front of you as you keep your head down and ignore the cold blood who’s bullying you. “I know your secret with Jeno” he whispers to you with a tone that really got into your nerves, it made you look at him, and got in trouble for letting your guard down because of what Jaemin did and faced a week in detention and a week without dinner.

School’s twisted rules to teach humans respect. It’s not the hunger that made you incredibly mad with Jeno, and it’s not Jaemin either, it’s the fact that he told his friend about you when you didn’t even tell a single soul about what you knew about him.

“Stay away from me and stop bullying me. I'm not scared of you or the rules, I don’t care if I leave this place!” your voice echoes and surrounds the room and for the first time in your life you saw Lee Jeno feel so small. “But I do care about what my parents want, so get out of my life Jeno” your attempt to make a dramatic exit was once again stopped, he brought you deep into one of the dusty aisle and cough a little as you try to get away from his grasp.

Jeno was awfully close to you, putting both of his hands on the bookshelf behind you, caging you with his presence. He can hear your heartbeat so fast your blood became even more inviting. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to bite you” he explains but it doesn’t change anything, you still want to get out of here. You watch him turn silent, and wait for his next move. His right hand caressed your head, feeling your hair and watching his own fingers touch your features and feel your warm skin. It was amusing for him, this is his first time touching a human and not just any human. The human that he likes.

In one swift move, he kissed you on the lips. And It was not a kiss that lovers share. It was a kiss like someone is confessing their love. Jeno can’t find the words on how he can be more honest with you when he just ruined your trust. And you do understand what he’s saying, he just confessed his feelings using that kiss because he knew you won’t listen to him anymore.

“I hope you understand” his face stayed close to you, nuzzling your hair and enjoying your warmth. He reached for your hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. It was like fire and ice were merging at this very moment. And if you thought holding his hands made your heart beat faster like you just ran a mile, the moment he made you encircle your arms around his waist made you weak right then and there and he was quick to catch you. You too have no words for what's happening right now but you feel the same way towards Jeno.

He kissed you again and this time you returned the kiss, making the vampire smile from ear to ear in between the kiss, exposing his sharp fangs to you for the first time which you thought he was going to bite you, but no, he kissed you deeper this time. And during the kiss, you can feel his fangs scratch slightly with your teeth. You can also say that he just fed because the metal taste of human blood still lingers in his lips and tongue, but you don’t care. It’s Jeno.

The peck that Jeno planned on giving you, became your first make out session with him in the old and dusty library. Whenever someone pulls away and tried to stop kissing, you come right back in and devour each other’s lips again. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. But seriously what were you thinking?” he said, cupping your face as he waits for your answer.

“I know it’s my fault. But I thought what we have here is something special-“

“It is special. And it’s for me and you, only. Please don’t do it again, for us” he rests his forehead on yours, closing his eyes and feeling the happiness sink right in. “To be honest I was heartbroken when you stopped coming here. I thought I lost you already way before you can be mine” he kissed you again, but this time he’s hugging you tightly. “Fuck you smell good, you’re making me hungry” you watch him gulp closely, “I need to uhm- you know, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And there’s that smile you love seeing, only for your eyes to see. “Yes” you smiled back and kissed him one last time.

Just like your moments with Jeno in the library, you two continue to meet secretly and spend time together. The books became witness to your growing love as this dangerous relationship becomes, even more, deeper each day passes. It was a secret relationship, but your feelings were true as it can be.

Dating like normal teenagers was hard, of course given the situation you two can’t go on dates. But the vampire is clever and smart. You forgot how he has this whole school wrapped around his finger. With the help of the other vampires to cover up for him, he made a picnic date happen… in the middle of the woods, under the dark.

“Vampires wear denim pants?” you tease him and he greets you with a kiss.

It was a starry night and you watch and connect the stars while holding each other’s hand. His cold skin doesn’t bother you anymore, you grew fond of it. You spend the night giggling quietly with Jeno, making each other laugh, telling unbelievable stories to each other from your kind.

“Have you ever experienced biting a human?” you asked curiously, still looking at the stars and holding Jeno’s cold hands.

“That’s illegal. My family is pure, the finest as they say” he scoffed as if the thought of his family disgust him. “Poor vampires suck blood from humans because they can’t afford buying clean and purified ones- think of it as water, most rich vampires think drinking directly from humans is… disgusting and dirty. So they buy the filtered ones” you nod your head, acknowledging what he said understanding how it works, thinking deeply like you're solving a Math problem. He was amused by your reaction.

“What will happen to you if they find out about us?” you blurted out, resting your chin on his strong chest as you wait for his answer.

“To be honest I don’t know. But were sure in trouble young lady” he nuzzles your hair but it’s not your shampoo that he smelled, it’s your blood. He tickled your sides again so he can hear your laugh that’s music to his ears.

“Okay okay, last question,” you said, catching your breath from too much laughing.

“Shoot”

“How can someone be a vampire?”

“Nope. Not answering that. Too dangerous for you young lady” he teased and tickled you again. It’s not fair, you thought.

When Jeno finally got tired of teasing you, he turned silent and stared at your face as if he’s engraving it in his memory. Deep inside, he doesn’t know how to keep you away from his family. He doesn’t know how you can survive the cruelty of his world.

“I love you” you heard him whisper, you barely heard it but he was sincere. He's kissing your knuckles and holding it tightly, pulling you closer to his cold body for a kiss on the lips, “I love you too” you said kissing his cold hand while looking at him smiling from ear to ear again, exposing his fangs to you.

To make Jaemin pay for what he’s done to you, Jeno made him the lookout whenever you and the vampire have time to make out in locker rooms during free periods. Jeno would drag you there and make out with you until he’s satisfied or he’s late for his next class. You always feel nervous whenever you’re with Jeno but his lips, oh his lips! Does it make you calm and forget about the world.

If the locker room is not safe, you always have the woods at night and no one would dare lurk in those dark places. Jeno kept you safe in the dark and made you feel safe, knowing that it makes you scared. “I’m a vampire, what are you so afraid of?” he chuckled, and just like that, you two continue to kiss like there's nothing wrong in what you’re doing.

During weekends, you and Jeno love to stargaze. Hugging you under a blanket, arms perfectly wrapped around you. His cold skin brings you comfort even if sometimes it makes you shiver. You taught him how to eat cookies, which he finds disgusting but he eats it anyway to not disappoint you.

And just like normal teenage relationships, what’s a great relationship without having your first big a fight? In fact, it was so big and horrible that you thought that was the end of it. Nothing beats jealousy.

“We were lab partners, Jeno! And we were studying!” by this time you were yelling at him and you hate this feeling. Both of you are completely aware of the love you share, but being divided this way can make you both jealous in every way. “How about you with Yeeun, huh? Do you enjoy her godly presence?” you added.

“Don’t get me started about you and Mark. I see you two, too close sometimes. Are you cheating on me?” it was so easy for him to accuse you of something you would never do to the man you love. With that, you scoffed and turned your back on him, gathering your books and making your way out of the library. He didn’t even bother stopping you this time like he always does.

The fight went on for weeks until exams week were finally over. It was torture for both of you but he hurt you in a way you couldn’t believe he can. You went to the library to return some books you’ve already finished reading. To your surprise a red rose is waiting for you on the desk you claim as yours, of course, it’s from Jeno.

Jealousy can’t ruin us. Please forgive me - L.J

You meet him in the woods that night after class, exchanged apologies, sweet and loving words, and shared a wonderful kiss. He’s right, jealousy can’t ruin what you have. Every relationship experiences huge fights.

Walking hand in hand back to the school premises, Jeno smelled another human blood near the two of you. He was just about to tell you to hide when Jaemin and his girlfriend were walking hand in hand towards the dark where you just came from. She was your senior, and you can see that she holds on to Jaemin so tight like you’re about to take Jaemin away from her. She was scared that you’d tell, but you’re not like that, you smiled and gave her your jacket. “It’s awfully cold back there. It’s nice to know I’m not alone” she smiled back at you.

“Glad you two are back” Jaemin teases Jeno and your boyfriend just rolled his eyes at him.

One hot afternoon in the library, Jeno’s skin was so irritated with the heat but he wanted to be with you. He was confident with his hands that it started to roam around your body, something he’s never done before but you like it. Let’s not fool ourselves here.

“Does the heat makes you horny? Or the heat is a different story?” you tease him in between kisses. His hand is under your skirt, caressing your ass cheek playing with the hem of your black lacy panties. If him being confident with his hands shocks you, well you were completely surprised when he removed your panties swiftly and started to undo his belt.

“Baby, I’m a virgin. Don’t I at least deserved to fucked on your coffin?” You were talking about his bed, and it was a joke that made laugh and brought up your panties again. “Thank you” you knew he would understand that you don’t want to have your first sex in a dusty library and you’re thankful that Jeno is a gentleman even though he can't control himself sometimes.

He’s one horny vampire.

“When?” he was talking about the sex you were sure of it. And the real answer to that is you don’t know because you don’t know how.

“I’m not sure how to make that happen, baby, I’m not the god of this school” you both chuckled and laughed quietly.

“Right- I’m sorry about your panties-“

“No no, it’s okay“ you kissed his cheek and fixed his ruined hair.

“Wait for me here tonight, then I’ll bring you to our dorms” it was another shocker for you, how can he make that possible? He kissed your hand and wore his black sunglasses again before he leaves the library. Leaving you with a promise that tonight is going to be special.

Usually, on weekends, you and Jeno go stargazing deep into the woods and make out like crazy under the stars but tonight, he brought you to his dorm room and you both never felt so together. The vampire dorm is deep underground to protect them from the heat and harsh sunlight. Maybe that’s why it takes them too long during general assemblies. And as expected, Jeno’s room is dark, with no windows and minimal airflow but you can manage. There’s no coffin, but his bed is cold even though you two are wildly kissing already while you sit comfortably on top of him, shirtless and only wearing thin sweatpants while you are wearing only your matching underwear.

“We have to be absolutely quiet tonight” he whispers softly to you. In return, you whisper back a soft ‘okay’ while still grinding on top of Jeno’s hardening cock. You do your best to keep quiet, not only you don’t want to get caught, but there are literally a hundred vampires outside Jeno’s room and you wouldn’t want the attention.

“You smell good” it sounded like a quiet moan like he’s stopping himself but still he swims on the lust and frenzy that your blood brings.

“I smell good or my blood smells good?” you tease him more, leaning on his figure, grinding even more deliciously. It was torture for him, but he likes it. He smiled at you, but not like the kind of smile you loved seeing. It was a weak smile, watching you under his lids, shaking his head in disbelief. He grabs the small of your back, pulling you closer than ever to him. It was cold, but not because of the night. You were sure that it’s cold because of Jeno’s skin pressing on your body.

With one swift move, he’s on top of you, kissing your neck that he oh so love, gripping your clothed boobs so hard you thought your bra will get ruined. Using one hand, you unclasp your bra expose yourself to Jeno. It made him stop devouring your neck and the grip on your boobs loosen up. He can’t believe that this is all happening.

“I always thought you look even more beautiful, naked” he swirls his pointer finger on your hardening nipples, watching you with full amusement on how you will react with his touch.

“I didn’t know you were capable of thinking such dirty thought” you managed to bite back, still feeling his cold fingers swirl slowly around your nipples. He kissed you on the chest, softly like your first kiss together. But the softness was quickly replaced with lustful one as you watch him suck your boobs while looking deep into your eyes. Your nipples were quick to be swollen because of the way how Jeno sucks them. Well, he’s a vampire after all.

You notice his kisses were slowly going down to your stomach as he takes time kissing your inner thighs. Spreading your legs according to his liking before he removes your panties. It’s weird how he was facing your clothed pussy, feeling his cold breath brush on your damped panties as he was smelling it. “Your period is near, I can smell it” it was a joke but it made you shy as hell in front of your boyfriend that you closed your legs and grab the blanket near you.

Jeno was chuckling awkwardly. It was funny but you still can’t help but be shy. Your boyfriend was quick to apologize, kissing you again on the lips and putting away the blanket that you covered yourself with. He can be an effective period tracker you joke to yourself.

He removed your panties swiftly and get himself naked before he returns to his place in between your legs. He looked more handsome flashing those perfect abs, again, only for your eyes. You run your hands around his perfect body, making him twitch a little because of your warm palms. He proceeds to suck his own fingers, point and middle finger, before he puts it on your slit. Making it wet even more. If he thought that your palms were warm, your walls were warmer and he likes the feeling of it just like how you love the feeling of his cold skin.

Given that you’re a virgin, your hole was so tight that it scared Jeno to continue. “Does it hurt?” he asks, moving his two fingers in and out of your wet entrance. The hurt was obvious in your face it surely bothered your boyfriend, being a virgin vampire is definitely making him nervous right now.

“Yeah. But it feels good baby, don’t stop” it was a quiet and airy moan. Your head rolled back, exposing your neck in front of him. He avoided it for the first time because it was becoming too much to handle. That’s not good he thought, he never felt that way before towards you.

He removed his fingers and cleaned it with his own mouth. Making you watch how he lick those fingers of his, coated with your pussy juices, he looked fucking hot and you wonder if it tastes good for him. Little did you know he is becoming crazy, your pussy juices were the closest thing he can get to have a taste of you.

“You do know that there's more down there right?” you were inviting him to lick your pussy, he only smirked and went close to you. Kissing your mouth hungrily like he hasn’t kissed you for months.

“Yes but that’s dangerous, I can end up sucking your period blood-“

“Which is gross!” you whispered a little too loud, making Jeno laugh uncontrollably.

“Ohhh. I love you, ready?” he asked, palming himself and pumping his cock before he proceeds. You nod your head ‘yes’, feeling your heart beat faster. You’re about to lose your virginity to a guy you love. You smiled and sling your arms around his neck, he can hear your heartbeat but your face is telling him that you’re happy and excited.

He never left your lips, kissing you none stop so you won’t think about the hurt. It was sweet. But he was big and you were the one who stopped returning the kisses. It felt like your air was being sucked up, you started breathing heavily and to Jeno… No one said that the lust that your blood brings during sex was unbearable.

For your safety, he was trying not to breathe and avoid your delicious scent. Your blood smells like freshly cooked ham on Christmas Eve. It lingers around the room.

You notice that his thrusts were stiff and he looked in pain more than you. You tried reaching for his face but he avoided your touch and continued sliding his cock in and out of you. The hurt was long forgotten because you were more bothered with how Jeno is reacting to the sex.

It’s your blood. He’s stopping himself.

“Hey, hey, look at me baby,” it was hard for you too, because even though Jeno’s thrust was sloppy, it still felt good for you. “Bite me, it’s okay” you know that you shouldn’t have offered, but what can you do? He was suffering.

It was an offer that he can’t refuse. A sin that he doesn’t care doing. He tried to relax himself and smelled your blood even more, enjoying the high and making himself more drunk . He leaned closer to your neck, licking it over and over again. He finds a perfect spot where he can suck you off, a perfect spot where you can hide the traces of his fangs.

And just when you feel like you’re already on the edge, you stop yourself from moaning too much and take Jeno’s quick thrust. His cold hand grips one boob and the other is intertwined with your hand. He can hear your hearbeat racing, he knows you’re about to have an orgasm.

“Jen I’m gonna cum-“ your warning has been cut off when you feel something stick into your skin that you almost screamed but you're quick to stop yourself.

Getting your blood sucked felt amazing, it’s like having a slow orgasm that will make you moan, smile through the high with furrowed brows, then it will make you feel dizzy for a second. And the most amazing part about that, it works both ways.

Jeno shoots his cum on his clean sheets, even though he can’t get you pregnant, he can’t cum inside you without your consent. He flopped beside you while you’re still high from your orgasm and getting your blood sucked. Jeno seized this moment to kiss oh so sweetly to bring you back to Earth with him.

When you don’t feel numb already, you saw Jeno’s lips with a little bit of blood on the side. You wiped it with your thumb with a smile and he catches your hand with his lips and kissed it. It was an amazing first time for both of you, no doubt about that.

“You okay, Jeno?” you asked him because you’re not sure what your blood does to him.

“More than okay. How about you, did I hurt you?” he was more concerned and checked the part where he had bit you, kissed it softly until it’s tickling you and you had to make him stop.

“I just remembered how you said that-uhm, drinking human blood straight from a human is kind of dirty-“ he stopped you with a kiss and pulled you close to him.

“What are you talking about, it’s your blood. Nothing about you can disgust me” he whispers to you.

The sex and the bloodsucking made your relationship even more special and thrilling. Every weekend, Jeno sneaks you into his room and be intimate with you in every way possible. Round after round and before you reach your orgasm, Jeno bites you in the same place and suck you off. The taste of your blood has become his new favorite thing in the world that even one drop of it on his tongue, he will know that it’s yours. It was like a drug for both of you and an addiction that has to be stopped.

Sometimes when he feels full or you look too weak, there’s no bloodsucking. Only sex, and pure sex. Even though it’s better when there’s blood involved, Jeno can still make you feel good using his cock and you can still make him dizzy by sucking him off. If he’s being completely honest with you, it amazes him with how good you suck him off. Your mouth makes him crazy, moan your name and ask for more. Just like now that his whole length is inside your mouth and the tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat. Thrusting his length in and out, making you gag but you can handle it.

Again, you amaze him. “You could be a great vampire, you know how to suck good.” He kissed you on the lips and made you lay beside him, switching positions to return the favor.

He was still hard and his cock is ready to go, pushing in slowly as usual in your tight walls. Another addicting thing about you. After having sex almost every week, Jeno became confident in bed, even more confident than before. Now, he can fuck you hard and give you a mind blowing orgasm without biting you.

“Jeno, harder” you moan quietly, careful not to be heard. Jeno pounds in you hard, making your boobs bounce up and down. He recently found out that you love it when he touches your clit while you’re on edge and on the verge to have a great orgasm. And one of the many perks of being a vampire is, he can hear your heart beats fast so he knows when to put his thumb and touch you. Softly at first, like he’s not fucking you hard, then he will slowly put pressure on his fingers and the next thing he knows, you’re shivering beneath him, parting your lips, and reaching for Jeno’s shoulder to bite it as you ease your oversensitivity and to stop yourself from moaning loudly.

“Who’s the vampire here? me or you?” he chuckles and kisses you on the lips watching you smile weakly beneath him. You feel him wear his shirt and boxers brief as he waits for you to calm down.

“Can you make me a vampire someday?” it was a stupid question. He just chuckled, cleaned you up, and helped you get dressed.

“No. Absolutely not” he answered and kissed you again.

As you were about to tie your shoes, you saw your hand shaking uncontrollably. You were about to hide it from Jeno but he saw it already and he was quick to hold your hand even if he knows he holds no warmth and his cold hands can make your hands shake more. But he’s confident that he can make you calm.

“I’m here. Relax, tell me the truth, are you okay?” he kisses your knuckles and proceeds to tie your shoes himself as he waits for your answer.

“I’m fine. This is the first time though” it’s true.

“Okay, well, baby you have to take care of yourself out there because I can’t. And I’m sorry, I truly am. Let’s be careful from now on okay? No more bloodsucking I promise”

As much as he wants to take care of you outside, he can’t but he has his own ways. Whenever he’s around you, he simply watches you. It frustrates him even more but he has to remain calm or else people will get suspicious. Jeno became more and more in love with you, as he continues to fear losing you.

This is his first time feeling such fear.

One fine Sunday night where the whole school was at church and the mass just finished, you started to feel dizzy and unstable. Unlike morning general assemblies where the vampires get out first, during church it’s different. They are expected to pray more and stay a little bit longer in church and humans leave first.

While you wait for your row to stand up and head out, you shake your head from side to side to try and shrug it off. You try closing your eyes and open them again to stop the dizziness but it won't leave. You felt weak as you try to stand up and walk with the others, but your eyesight was turning black.

Then you fainted. Feeling the cold floor of 127 House on your face.

The girls gasped and made quite a noise at church while the vampires were already starting to pray again. And usually, Jeno wouldn’t care what’s happening behind. But Jaemin does.

“She fainted” Jaemin murmured and pretends to pray.

“Who yours?” Jeno murmured back.

“No. Yours”

And just like that Jeno didn’t hesitate to turn his head back and see for himself. It’s true. He saw you being carried by the school nurse and the sight of it makes him want to vomit all the blood that he had for dinner earlier during feeding. He was worried sick about you but he can't do shit.

“Control yourself. She will be fine” Jaemin was worrying for his friend too. For all, he knows you are Jeno’s weakness and he’s scared that Jeno will cause a scene at church in front of the other vampires and expose his vulnerability.

As you stayed unconscious at the school’s hospital wing, the school nurse checked your pulse, your breathing, and your blood, and found of about Jeno’s markings at the top of your collar bone. You lost a lot of blood from too much intimacy with Jeno, and the higher ups of the school only had one theory of what happened to you. You were fornicating with a vampire which is a sin to them.

Of course, they only cared about Jeno’s wellbeing and quickly called his family. Covering up for Jeno’s scandal, the higher ups did not say that they knew all about your relationship with Jeno. They would rather choose to believe that you forced Jeno to drink your blood, than accepting the truth that you two are in love. But for now, they remained silent and waited for Jeno’s father to decide about your consequence.

While you were at the hospital wing saving strength and accepting visits from Yeji and your other friends, Jeno is facing big trouble because of what happened to you. Given that they easily tracked Jeno’s fangs, he doesn’t care at all if the whole school finds out. He just wants to know if you’re safe.

Yes, he is scared to face his parents, but he wants to face them with all false bravery and receive his punishment. He entered the room with all his might, not giving a fuck about the teachers who are in the same room as he is. On the right side of the room, he sees his father staring outside waiting for the sun to rise while he listens to the headmaster talk.

Lee Taeyong, always looked scary to everyone. Even the other vampires wouldn’t dare look at his perfection. Jeno is powerless when it comes to his father and quite frankly his relationship with his own father is as cold as their blood.

“Mr. Lee, we didn’t actually catch them do it but it was indeed Lee Jeno’s fangs according to school records… and your son is in a relationship with a human”

Taeyong turned around to face his son and put both of his hands in the pocket of his trousers, “continue” he said. Obviously, he’s much more interested in the story of how his son became so rebellious after meeting you. Unfortunately, the school found out everything even about your stargazing dates and library dates. It all sounded like a joke to Taeyong which made him laughed and mock his own son.

“Are you done playing dumb, son?” the tone of his voice was cool. It’s always like that. Words come out from his mouth slowly to send daggers in Jeno’s heart. “I don’t want a scandal for the Lee family, let this be a secret for everyone. Son, I want you to pretend that nothing happened between the two of you. Pretend that you don’t know her, pretend that you don’t love her and this time you will follow the school rules or I will ruin her parent's business” Jeno’s father is a powerful man and the school staffs wouldn’t dare not follow him. “Let Jeno suffer from his stupidity. Nothing can stain the perfectness of the Lee family. Go to church young man, get your blood clean” Taeyong added.

Jeno was scared. He felt weak and unable to talk, but he has to at least try and fight for you. “We were in love” he croaked, but Taeyong just turned his back from his son and admired the beautiful sunset.

“I believe you and I don’t care”

Taeyong knew you are a threat not only to the Lee family but also to the whole vampire kind. If he let you and Jeno stay together, you will serve as hope or inspiration to the other humans and humans will continue to stain the royalty of the vampires.

And the stupidity of his son is the root of it all.

The young vampire did not know what to do, frustrated, and mad knowing all too well that he can’t stomach hurting your feelings. Jeno left the room and look for someplace quiet to cry and be mad at his own father. His own father.

Weeks after being discharged from the school’s hospital, it’s surprising how Jeno is not meeting you in your usual places. He’s not coming to the library anymore to meet with you, no more spontaneous making out while Jaemin is on the lookout, you are left alone in the dark under the stars for the past weekends. It was heartbreaking. You don’t know what’s going on.

“School’s king and queen, huh? No wonder they seem so close during assemblies. Also, their families are a perfect match. Both untouched and rich” Yeji continues to gossip with Lia while you’re on her side, listening and feeling your heartbreak into pieces.

Not long after you’ve heard the rumor about Yeeun and Jeno being together, to be honest, you find it as a sick joke that Jeno is playing. You saw them walking hand in hand in the school corridor. White on white never looked so good. So it's true. Yeeun catches your attention and raised one eyebrow at you as if she’s saying, ‘bow down, he was never yours’

Again, you got into trouble for looking at Yeeun and Jeno. And once again, the ugly truth slapped you hard in the face. You’ve committed a great sin by loving a vampire, and now you’re facing the consequences. No more, you said to yourself. This time, you decided for yourself and told your parents that you cannot handle the ways of this school anymore. You didn’t tell them about Jeno because that would be a great scandal, you just told them that the bullying in the school is out of hand that it isn’t the right place for you.

“Did someone bullied you?” your dad asked through the phone, sounding so worried and concerned.

“No no. I just want to leave before someone does, is that okay? I promise to do good in my next school”

“Of course. Will get you out of there right away”

The school didn’t make a fuss about the situation and let your parents pull you out from the school. At least they’re nice enough to not tell about what happened between you and Jeno. Hearing the news that you are transferring schools, Jeno tried everything, even asked help from Jaemin’s girlfriend but he was too late. You already left, with erased memories.

As part of the school’s twisted rules, graduating from the school is the only way to keep your memories so that students like you, cannot stain the perfect name of the school 127 House and spread false rumors about it.

Jeno hated himself more but he didn’t cause any more trouble and embraced a sad life without you, from now on. He became colder towards the other students and started to bully other humans, vampires, and teachers. Even Jaemin and his other friends can’t help him and make him stop.

To feel your presence again, he still goes to the library where you two met and shared hundreds of memories. Relieving every memory, one by one, even staying inside the library in the middle of a hot afternoon. It doesn’t matter if the heat is irritating him, what his father did to him was even more irritating than the sun.

He still goes stargazing every weekend, torturing himself even more. Looking at the stars with tears in his eyes, hoping that he could hear your voice and feel your warmth again.

One day, when he was feeding with Jaemin and the rest of the guys and the blood that’s given to him tastes like yours it made him crazy, drank it in one go. He missed you even more than ever, but a lot of horrible scenarios ran through his mind. Why is your blood being donated? Did his parents have you killed? Did something happened to you? He was being hysterical. Jaemin was quick to calm him down and gave his friend another pack of blood, “Don’t make a scene or you’ll get in trouble again. You just miss her that’s why every blood you taste, tastes like her”

“You don’t understand because yours wasn’t taken away from you” Jeno once again pushed Jaemin away but this time he hurt his friend.

“Jeno, we broke up because of your stupidity and I’m here stuck with you. Drink your blood” Jaemin broke up with his girl because he was scared the school might found out about them too. He would rather break up with her than getting her memories erased and forget about the love that they shared.

Graduation came and Jeno can’t stomach the presence of his father. Jeno left and graduated from 127 House with pure anger and disgust towards the school and the people who run it. He was ready to move forward and go to college, but he will never want to move on from you. For as long as he can, he will hope and pray for you to come back in his life.

College was another vampire play for Jeno, the only difference is the stage has gotten bigger. To earn his parent’s trust again, he made the family proud and forced himself to get involved with the family business and showed Taeyong that he can be trusted. Build his own life and making himself known as one of the scariest Lee next to his father. All those things were easy for Jeno. He can fake it every day. But the pain of losing you still haunts him every night, that’s what hard for him.

Jeno grew up to be a fine vampire like his family and live up to the family legacy. When Jeno was all grown up and arranged to marry Yeeun, he was heartbroken again.

He did found you though, but he can only remain as a stranger so he can’t hurt you for the second time. He always watches you from afar, just like how he first met you at the library. You don’t know but he watches you when you’re asleep, sitting close to you like a shadow. Jeno stayed with you for days, admire you when you sleep, love you secretly.

Until one night during your sleep, you have this weird dream that you study in a vampire school when you were still young. A vampire so handsome like a god was holding your hand while you were watching the stars with him. Little did you know, they were all flashbacks of every good memory you had with Jeno.

“Jeno” you murmur in your sleep but Jeno wouldn’t dare wake you up.

“Y/n,” he whispered back, smiling because he’s hurt but happy at the same time you remember his name even if it’s just a murmur. He kissed you and smelled your blood one last time, even left his tears on your cheek, then left and never came back again.

Omg my #1 inspiration for this fic was my high school life and how I’m always weak and pale all throughout high school. I was a transferee when I was a sophomore and I went to school not wearing uniform but casual clothes. it was humiliating. Also I was cultured shock because it’s so different from the academy that I used to go schooling. ANYWEIZ ALL IS WELL, HIGH SCHOOL FOR ME WAS FUN.

Vampires were based to Vampire Academy, the twisted school rules were based from Slaughterhouse Rulez. I think Vampire Academy is a great book but the movie was just so so.

Anyweiz, it’s my birthday today and I wrote this story for myself and tried stretching my imagination. heheh what a challenge.

Hope you enjoyed reading!

#nct-writers #neohalloween #jeno smut #nct jeno smut #jeno angst #nct jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct jeno fluff #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno smut #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #lee jeno vampire #nct vampire au

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lightning-things · 4 years ago

Text

Quite the predicament

Just a little piece to use as a "sample writing" for now. I was literally trying to get some ideas and then one of my cats decided he wanted some cuddles, so I decided to write this.

Hope you'll enjoy it ^^

Fandom: Genshin Impact.

Summary: All you wanted was to fill the blank pages with words, but someone had another plan.

Characters: Zhongli, Reader (no gender mentioned), Northland Cat.

Theme: SFW, fluff, slice of life, some intimacy. Implied romantic relationship.

Inspiration: Indi -one of my cats- and Liyue Harbor.

Words: 1384.

Warnings: None, unless you hate and/or fear cats.

Read also in: Ao3.

Spanish version: Pequeño contratiempo -> https://lightning-cosillas.tumblr.com/post/646727027636027392/pequeño-contratiempo

Quite the predicament

Liyue is calm tonight.

A gentle breeze caresses the streets, making bamboo leaves float around unbothered by people. Only animals can be found roaming the city in the clear night. Lonely clouds are the only ones seen in the sky, letting the stars shine brightly in the dark blue celestial sea displayed above.

If there are other people enjoying the scenery, you don't know, and you don't care either since your attention is focused not on the beauty displayed outside your window, but on the blank pages in front of you.

A book with no words written on it, a virgin piece of paper that will sit in one of the bookshelves that surround you, if only you could get started and break the solid colour that's been staring back at you for what feels like hours.

You sigh, slouching in the chair after placing the brush in the ornate inkstone to not make a mess when your hands go to your head in a vain attempt to let go of your frustration. You just want to write something: your thoughts, your day-to-day errands, or maybe some tale you heard from Liu Su one of those times you went to drink tea and enjoy a good story.

But the paper is still unmarked.

Just moments ago your mind was full of ideas, thoughts flying non-stop and itching you to take the brush and write them down. But at the same moment you sit on the chair after some minutes of careful preparation, your brain decided to stop working and left you with a -oh the irony- blank mind.

A grunt replaces your sighs and instead of letting go of your head to hit the table with your forehead, you decide to arch your back and rest it on the chair, eyes unfocused but nailed to the ceiling as your index finger begins to tap the armrest in an annoying rhythm.

You don’t know how much time passes, since no sound is heard neither inside and outside the house save for the wind passing through the streets. But be it seconds or minutes or hours, there’s a moment when you decide that enough is enough, that sitting while doing nothing is a waste of time.

So you choose to get up and occupy yourself with something -anything will be good at this point- because you know sleep won’t come no matter how comfortable and inviting your bed is. Your mind will just play with you and bring back all the activity you’re missing right now.

And that was the plan, until something jumps at you, almost knocking you out of the chair.

It catches you off-guard, even if the surprise lasts only for the fleeting moment your ears need to recognize the sound and for your hands to grab the little intruder and sink gently into its soft fur.

Your frown banishes instantly, replaced by a tired but sincere smile. The tension of your muscles disappears within seconds, and your posture -rigid, tense, bothered- shifts into a relaxed one.

The little intruder meows contentedly, green eyes closed in delight and throat vibrating with its purrs. Its short fur caresses your skin whenever the cat moves and for a moment you just stay like you are, eyes looking at the feline and following the streaks of black along the silvery strands of its back and sides.

“The northland one, uh?” You talk to yourself, one hand leaving the cat’s side to stroke his head, trying to please him enough to stop hitting your chin with it. “You’re heavier than you look.” A cat well-fed, with shiny fur and strong muscles underneath.

A stray, but a Liyue one without doubt.

The harbor is full of prey like the birds of the bridges, the rats from the boats or the fishes from the stalls that they can hunt -or steal- freely, as well as a good amount of rocks, trees, stairs, pillars and tall houses for the cats to exercise and play.

And it makes you happy, knowing that even if not all cats would be able to hunt or steal things to eat, the harbor is also full of people who feed the animals so none of them would be found the next morning, starved to death.

The northland cat in your arms moves and meows again, redirecting your attention out of your thoughts and back to him, hitting you with his back and head until your hands are petting him, scratching him with care in the places he seems to like judging by the way he places himself.

The book is long forgotten on the table, ink drying while the pages rest untouched and you can’t bring yourself to care anymore.

"Quite the predicament you're in." A voice you know so well slowly makes its way into the pleasant atmosphere. His words don't break the spell even if there's a hint of a laugh in them. No, the charming voice makes its way smoothly into the symphony of purrs to pull you in deeper.

Slowly, with no rush at all, you move your face just enough to look at him, to lock your eyes on his. Pools of amber and gold look back at you and your unexpected guest, shining with mirth at the situation.

You don't laugh, but your smile widens at the same time the purrs of the cat increase their volume and demanding meows echo through the room. The northland feline has noticed your companion and even if he doesn’t leave your lap, his eyes are now fixed on the male.

"Stop whining, you baby." Your tone is light, amused by the neediness the cat shows just so he can make the brunette pet him too. “I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

"Not at all.” His clothes tell a different story, but if you know him -and you do- you’ll be sure he was reading instead of sleeping, or looking at the streets he loved so much, while waiting for sleep to catch you and force your way to bed.

His eyes take notice of the pages, now scattered across the desk but still with no drop of ink in them. However, he doesn’t say a thing about them, busying himself for a few seconds with putting away the writing utensils, avoiding any possible accident with the ink and brushes.

Meanwhile, you look at him, marveling at the way the silk robe -colour similar to the one of the lanterns light up at night on the harbor- complements his features and allows you a peek at his neck and chest. usually covered by layers of expensive clothing and ties.

“Zhongli.” His name in your lips sounds sweet, calm music like a lullaby in the middle of the night. He merely hums to let you know he heard you, to let you continue talking even if he’s not looking at you right now. “Zhongli.” You call again, stroking the cat with one of your hands and putting the other on his arm.

He stops mildly, letting go of the papers and turning his body to you, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. For a moment, there’s purrs instead of silence filling the space. Then the tap of his bare feet against the floor so he can close enough to put a hand on the cat and the other on your shoulder.

His eyes are on you, attention solely focused on your face, your eyes, your smile, the little details of your skin that makes you so unique to him. Admiration flows from his gaze and you cannot help it when you tilt your head and rest your cheek on the hand he has on your shoulder.

“Yes, dear?” He asks, finally, when all is settled and even the cat has fallen silent, lulled to sleep in your arms aided by your breathing and his warm hand caressing his fur.

“Nothing.” Is what you answer. Your eyes open to look at him again, mouth almost letting go of a giggle at his confused expression. “I just wanted to say your name.” You finish, taking his hand to give a fleeting kiss in his knuckles.

That makes Zhongli smile, a lovely curve of lips full of warmth and so much more…

So you call him again.

You liked it? Want to support me? In that case you can buy me a coffee ^^

#genshin impact #gi #zhongli x reader #zhongli #reader #gender neutral #no gender #intimacy #sfw #fluff #cats #slice of life #english #spanish

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mardereads19 · 4 years ago

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Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 6:

Continuation of Day 1: Rosehall.

His mother. His mother was here.

He had never mentioned her before. Elain had not even known she was alive.

Azriel led Elain inside the estate, the shadow spy returning to report in Azriel’s ear what it had discovered. He nodded, but said nothing.

Elain vaguely took in her surroundings, but every detail she noticed quickly faded away from her memory. Her mind was spinning around with the idea that she could meet Azriel’s mother today.

She was not appropriately dressed.

“I just need to check on a few things and then we’ll leave.” Azriel had taken her to a parlor. A fireplace of white stone was on the wall to her left, while a couch made to accommodate Illyrian wings faced it, pushed against the wall to her right. The wall directly before them was covered in windows gazing out to a field of flowers. Elain’s eyebrows raised, her lips lifting at the corners. An image popped into her mind of her sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in her hand and the saucer on the low table, while she gazed at the lovely view. At the flowers and how they swayed in the breeze.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be back in a moment.” Elain snapped back into reality and managed a nod before Azriel strode away, leaving a shadow behind. She watched him go, his stalk proud and easy, his back straight but relaxed. The light played in his wings, painting them red and purple and blue, a melange of color infused with a map of veins. They look soft, Elain thought in awe.

When he was gone, she turned to the fireplace. There were no pictures there. No sign of memories to be seen. The room was mostly empty, safe for the various flower bases, the couch and table, and the bookshelves to either side of the row of windows. There was also a small mirror next to the fireplace where she caught her reflection. The shadow floated just beside it, staying by the mantle of the fireplace, seeming to be looking at her.

Elain frowned at her reflection and reached above her head to pat down a hair that was sticking up. Then, her gazed lowered and she ran her hand through her hair strands. Did they seem too flat? She studied her attire. Was that dust on her dress? With a frustrated sharp exhale, she began to dust-off the area near her bellybutton.

Why hadn’t Azriel told her who would be here? She was not dressed for this. Her dress today was simple, one of the dresses she wore to train. If she had known his mother was here, she would have donned something more pretty, less drably. She would have fixed her hair into—

“What are you wiping away, my dear?”

Elain startled, turning to her left. The female standing there laughed softly. There were wings peaking above her shoulders. They were scarred.

Elain had not heard her come in.

Azriel’s mother.

Elain knew a blush was spreading on her cheeks. Great. She hadn’t even opened her mouth and Azriel’s mother was laughing at her. She was going to stab Azriel with truth teller during training today.

A sudden fear overtook her briefly. Making a good impression on this female was important for Elain. She pushed the reason away, but there was no denying it.

Elain saw Azriel’s shadow tilt curiously from the corner of her eye.

“What’s your name, child?” The female’s voice was tender, but rough like gravel. Her skin was a tanned brown like her son’s and her hair was just as dark as his. Azriel had inherited his father’s eyes, because his mother’s were the darkest brown Elain had ever seen.

A few scars extended across the Illyrian’s cheeks and neck. One of them ran across her right eyebrow.

Beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful. And if Elain had not known this female was older than Azriel, she would’ve assumed she was in her late twenties.

Now she understood why Azriel was so handsome.

The female’s lips twisted up in a smile. Elain blinked. Her name, the female had asked Elain for her name.

“Elain Archeron, Miss,” she answered, shifting on her feet before offering an awkward curtsy.

The female tilted her head to the side —another habit Azriel must have gotten from her— as she regarded Elain. “Elain Archeron?” Elain nodded. “Archeron like my new High Lady?”

Elain nodded again. She cringed and forced herself to speak. “Feyre is my younger sister.”

The female raised her eyebrows. “I see.” She walked closer and past Elain until she stood before the windows, gazing out at the field of flowers.

I see? What did that mean?

“Tell me, Elain. Do you like flowers?”

Elain smiled, coming to stand beside Azriel’s mother, pressing her shaking hands against her dress. The view really was breathtaking, she noticed now that she came closer to it. “I love flowers.”

The Illyrian did not remove her eyes from the field, but there was a smile on her lips as she said, “You smell like one.”

“Jazmine,” they both said together. The female turned to her then. What Elain felt looking at her face could not be described as anything other than comfort. The warmth she radiated with her gentle expression was enough to to make Elain wonder if this was what having a caring mother felt like. Having the female smile at her brought great peace to her heart, diminishing her fear. “My sister, Feyre, told me I smelled of jazmine and honey,” Elain added shyly.

The female grinned. “Yes.” After a moment of silent consideration, she motioned her hand towards the field. “Would you like to—“

Footsteps sounded from the hall and both of them twisted in time to see Azriel come inside the room. Elain’s shoulders relaxed at his presence. He frowned at his mother before noticing his shadow next to the fireplace and throwing a glare it’s way. “My shadows told me you were in your room.”

“I was,” she responded nonchalantly.

Azriel assented with his head slowly. Elain glanced between the two of them, their faces equally impassive.

Azriel glanced at Elain before returning his gaze to his mother. He gave her a small smile. “Hello, Mother.”

The female’s face broke out in a bright grin and she made her way to him, reaching her hand to cup his cheek. His face went soft, his eyes filled with love. Elain’s heart reacted to his happiness in kind.

“My boy,” the Illyrian female said, her voice —like her son’s eyes— full of love.

Elain turned her back to them, focusing again on the field of flowers below. Concentrating on naming them in her head while Azriel and his mother caught up. Eventually, she mentioned something about a leak and began to walk him out of the parlor.

Elain faced them again just in time to see Azriel’s mother pause on the doorway and look at her. Azriel glanced between them, his face neutral. “It was a pleasure meeting you, young flower,” she said. “I do hope to see you again.”

Elain smiled, feeling warm in the face. “Likewise, Miss.”

The female winked at her before leading his son away. Elain heard their cheerful voices fading and was delighted when she caught Azriel’s laugh.

Her eyes found the field again.

What a lovely female. It seemed accurate, that she lived in this graceful home.

The shadow that still stood by the mantle got closer to the view. Then it playfully approached Elain and tugged on a strand of hair before darting back to its initial spot.

Elain laughed. “I know. My hair is a mess.” She ran her fingers through the strand. “It wouldn’t have been like this if it weren’t for your cranky boss.” The shadow did not react beyond twisting in the air. “I don’t care if you tell him I said that.” It moved no more.

She didn’t know if it understood her. But while Azriel and his mother were away, taking care of whatever leak there was, the shadow kept her company. Both of them close to the window, looking out at the view, at the field of flowers. Dark and light looking out.

And as the breeze made all those petals dance, Elain wondered whether she had been meant to see this place and to meet her.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #elriel #azriel #elain #elain archeron #elriel endgame #pro elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel oneshot I expanded #elriel oneshot #my writing

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rune-writes · 4 years ago

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Tending to a Wounded Heart

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Word Count: 3363

Rating: T

Summary: A look into how MC feels regarding Yoosung's eye injury in the months following the Mint Eye incident.

Note: This is my piece for @mysme-rbb where I got to collab with the amazing @littleaipom. The idea about MC tending to Yoosung's wounded eye came from her, and from there, we explore how both MC and Yoosung dealt with his injury in the months following the incident. It was such a pleasure working with her and a fun experience for sure! Be sure to check out her art too! It's wholesome, heartfelt, and guaranteed to pull at your heartstrings :'))

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

Every time MC looked at Yoosung, a lump formed at the back of her throat. She tried to ignore it, tried to tell herself that she was over-thinking again. Yoosung always said that it was no big deal, that he could still see well enough with his good eye. But what if it was a big deal? MC suspected that with how often she spotted him groping blindly for things on his left side, or the way he had to pay extra attention when going down the stairs.

“I'm alright, MC,” he’d always say whenever she voiced her concern. “I got this for protecting you. If that had been a LOLOL raid, this’d be my badge of honor.”

If that had been a LOLOL raid, Yoosung wouldn’t have retained an actual injury. She tried to tell him that, to help him with menial tasks; it was the least she could do to ease his burden. But Yoosung always smiled and waved it off, saying there was no need and he could do it himself. MC's heart broke a little every time she saw that.

Today was a surprise visit, a concern-in-disguise, as MC told herself that Yoosung needed to consume healthier meals. So that's what she did, coming up to his apartment carrying a bag filled with freshly-cooked kimchi, grilled mackerel, and hot chicken soup. She wouldn’t say she was the best cook, but her mother had taught her the basics of a healthy meal, and she hoped they suited Yoosung’s palates. It was to her surprise, however, when she spotted him walking out of his apartment building with a big black trash bag in hand, sporting his left side.

Her heart constricted. MC paused midstep, watching him cross the pavement to the garbage dumpster on the side of the building. A limp on his left leg; Yoosung reached the dumpster, lifted the heavy bag, then tossed it inside. He sighed, stretching his back then stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders and neck. He massaged his left thigh, and MC thought she saw a glimmer of pain cross his features. Then he turned around, and for whatever reason, MC stepped back behind the bushes, keeping her eyes on his back as he made his way inside the building.

When Yoosung stumbled on the first step up the stairwell, MC half-moved, then stopped. She’d… probably just be a nuisance, wouldn't she? Her worry would only stress him more. But to see him so weak and vulnerable… Her fingers twitched. MC bit her lower lip and watched as Yoosung let out a soft curse, one hand gripping the railing hard to keep himself from falling flat on his face. Then he straightened his back and sighed once more, gingerly rolling his left ankle before he slowly, and painstakingly, climbed the stairs, keeping his good eye fixed downward on the steps.

She waited until he was out of sight, then waited another five minutes or so until she was sure he was back at his room. MC strode inside the building and up the stairwell to the third floor. The thought that Yoosung had to make this climb every day, up and down, with only one good eye, while still refusing any form of help, made her teeth grit.

She reached his door, then rang the bell. His voice came from inside, telling her to wait. A moment later, the door opened, and Yoosung stood in the doorway. The bandage covering his left eye was half-worn, and MC made a mental note to change it later. Good thing she came after all. The other eye—the good eye—widened at the sight of her, before it glinted, his face breaking into a bright smile. “MC!” His radiant beam teased an involuntary smile out of her.

“I brought you lunch,” she said as he let her in. “I hope that’s okay.”

That was awesome, he said. He wouldn’t have to go out and buy lunch, and, most of all, he got to save money. The innocent grin made her chuckle.

Yoosung’s studio apartment was on the small side, but big enough for a college student. A short hall that immediately opened up to the living area—a combination of bedroom and kitchen in one place. His bed was positioned at the farthest corner by the window, with his desk, computer set, and bookshelves on the other side of it. Just around the corner of the hall was the small kitchen counter, with the small electric stove, small refrigerator, and cupboards overhead. The small dining table acted as a partition between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment, and that was where MC set her bag down. Yoosung's eye sparkled when she took box after steaming box from the bag.

“It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it."

“Of course I will. You made it.”

A little smile graced her lips. She looked at the clock on the wall. “It's not lunchtime yet though. Is it okay if I put these here first?”

“Sure. Let me get you something to drink. Is coffee good? I was just going to make some for myself.” He moved to the cupboards before she could say anything, then groped blindly for the coffee bag.

That little twinge of pain again. “Hey,” she said, “let me make the coffee.”

But Yoosung only chuckled, the soft, breathy chuckle that, in another occasion, would have sent her heart fluttering. “You’re the guest. I can't let you do that.”

But you’re hurt, MC wanted to say. You’re hurt, and I’m your girlfriend. Please let me do something to help, even if it’s just making you coffee.

He found the grounds next to the teabags, then told her to sit as he went to the coffee maker. She would, but there was an unease in her heart that refused to quiet down. So she kept watch, with one eye at least, as Yoosung poured water into the machine and added coffee grounds above the filter. At the touch of a button, the machine whirred and shook, and coffee began dripping into the pot beneath it. Then, as though noticing her gaze, he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. Her heart leaped at the flash of his disarming smile.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was being paranoid. Only having one good eye didn’t mean Yoosung couldn’t do menial tasks like brewing coffee, or climbing down the stairs. MC reassured herself that everything was alright, forced herself to take her eyes off Yoosung's back and resumed taking out the boxes. She was setting her lunch bag down on the floor when trouble occurred in a sharp hiss.

Something crashed. MC whipped her head up and saw Yoosung retracting his left hand then sucking it between his lips. Broken glass scattered over the countertop. What remained of the coffee pot now lay amongst a puddle of freshly-brewed black coffee, splashed across the counter and dripping onto the floor.

In the blink of an eye, MC had reached Yoosung’s side. She grabbed his hand, and he jumped, going tense when her grip turned hard.

“MC…” he tried to say. His hand was burned red, blisters already forming on the back of it. No cuts, thank God. Yoosung attempted to pull away but MC’s hold was firm. “It’s just a little burn,” he said again, even as his fingers twitched, hand strained under the pain.

“Water.”

MC shut off his protests. She brought him to the sink, then turned the tap water on over his burned hand. Yoosung hissed and winced, but he’d stopped struggling, the cool water slowly easing away the pain and the heat. Silence stretched between them, thick and palpable.

“I told you I’d make the coffee.”

Her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear, but he'd heard, and he called her name, the gentleness almost enough to draw her gaze to him, to let herself be lulled by that easy grin again. MC's lips wavered. She bit her tongue and gritted her teeth, forcing back the tears threatening to spill.

No more.

“MC?” He bent over, trying to catch her eyes under her bangs.

“What am I to you?” Her voice was uncharacteristically cold. He stopped. “I’m your girlfriend. Don't I mean anything to you?”

“What are you—?”

She tightened her grip. Yoosung flinched and almost backed up, but her hold rooted him to the spot. MC whipped her head at him, eyes flashing with anger, hurt, frustration, guilt.

“I’m your girlfriend!” So much vehemence. So much force. As if that single sentence was the reason everything happened. “But you wouldn’t—you're pushing me away! Keeping me in the dark; acting tough when you’re clearly in pain! Don’t you know how that makes me feel?” Her breath hitched. Her sight blurred. “You hurt your eye because of me!”

The dam broke. Angry tears burst free. She glared through them, glared until his one bright violet eye widened. In surprise? In realization? She didn't know. MC swallowed past the lump in her throat as tears after tears streamed down her face.

If only Yoosung hadn't gone with Seven that time…

When Seven had gotten the bomb situation at Rika's apartment under control, she'd thought the worst had past. But then Jaehee had received suspicious emails and someone had begun stalking Zen—though, given how popular the actor was, that shouldn't have raised alarms. But after the bomb, they'd all been paranoid, prompting Seven to investigate the emails' source. Everyone, including Yoosung, had been under the impression that those developments had been connected, and that, in turn, had led to the thought that MC's life was still in danger. So when Seven had finally found leads to a place called Mint Eye, Yoosung had offered to come with him.

She should've felt something was amiss; should've stopped him from going when he'd called to let her know. But MC knew, even as the thought kept haunting her mind for the months following it, that Yoosung would have gone with Seven whether or not her life had been at stake. That was just the person he was. He cared about his friends more than his life. And if Yoosung hadn't been there, Seven might not have escaped the place unscathed. MC knew he would have blamed himself for that.

Her hold loosened. MC hung her head, stepping back. “It’s my fault.” Her voice was quiet, broken, shaking. “And you're not giving me any chances to apologize.”

Silence fell. She moved away to fetch the first-aid kit from the bathroom. When she returned, Yoosung was still at the kitchen sink, burned hand held still beneath the pouring water.

She called him, and he jumped, as though coming out of a trance. She nodded toward the bed, lifting the first-aid kit box to emphasize her intention. He fumbled then, turning the tap water off and reaching for a rag to… wipe the messy counter maybe. But MC called again, and he discarded the rag and rounded the dining table where his steaming lunch still waited. MC dragged the desk chair to the bed and sat as Yoosung settled in front of her, jittery, tense, nervous. She set the box down on the low-lying table next to her and opened it.

The tap water should have cooled his hand, but the blisters looked nasty. She searched for burn ointments in the box, found it next to the bandages, then applied it to Yoosung’s hand, gently, carefully. Yoosung hissed, biting his lower lip, and still he acted like the tough guy he was not. So MC pressed a little harder on his tender skin. He gasped. “MC!” His eye flashed, but his indignation quickly died when he remembered her earlier outburst. Silence fell again.

“I’m changing the bandage.”

She reached up and around his head, finding the edge then unwinding the dirty gauze. She felt his gaze follow her, felt it waver and hesitate; saw, from the corner of her eyes, his mouth opening at the beginning of something. But he closed it before anything came out. Yoosung averted his gaze, fidgeting under her touch.

“If you hate the idea of me helping you so much, the least you could've done is take care of your eye properly. What if it gets infected?” MC scoffed, soft, under her breath. “And you call yourself a vet student.”

He mumbled something that sounded like "I don't hate it," but it was too quiet, and he made no effort to say it louder, so MC let him be. As the last of the bandage came off, a half-healed jagged scar greeted MC's eyes, stretching from his eyebrow to just above his cheek bone. Short enough to think that he had gotten away before anything serious happened, but the hacker had to have some skills with the knife, because even with the short gash, he had inflicted permanent damage on Yoosung's eye.

The doctor had done a marvelous job stitching everything together; MC could imagine it wouldn’t even leave a scar once everything healed. But now it was red and looking tender. When was the last time Yoosung changed the bandage? He flinched when MC applied the disinfectant and antibiotics ointment, flinched again when she wrapped the eye with a fresh gauze then held it in place. He kept his good eye down throughout the whole process, his fingers twitching before he clasped them together.

It wasn't until MC closed the first-aid kit and made to throw the used bandage that Yoosung caught her arm. “MC,” he called, hesitant. She glanced at him, at the way he hung his head, or the firm yet lax hold he had on her arm. She could pull away, but she settled back down. He fumbled with his words then, stammering as he tried to find the right thing to say, and MC stayed and waited, because he was holding her hand and she wanted to give him this chance.

“It’s not your fault,” was the first thing he said. The muscles along her jaws twitched. “No—I—I mean—um—” He pressed his lips, eyes darting away as he drew back into himself, looking so small that MC almost felt sorry. Or maybe she did feel sorry. Despite the pain it’d caused her, she knew he’d never meant any harm. The thought made her anger subside. The tension left her in a quiet sigh.

“Is it so hard to ask for help?” she asked. MC looked down at the hand on her wrist. She slipped out of his grasp, then turned his right hand palm-up, holding it, cradling it. He was so precious to her. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he realize that him hurting also caused her pain? That, no matter what he said, she had a role in getting him blind.

Permanently damaged. The first time she heard that, when Seven broke down in front of them, she didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Everything had gone muted. The lights had gone dim.

Her fault.

It had been like a chant, or a curse. When MC saw him entering the party with a bandage covering one eye, she had forgotten how to breathe. Even though he’d said that it was no big deal, that everything was over and done with, that she was safe and that was all that mattered.

“What if you got hurt even more? Broke your leg or cut your hand—” she flicked an eye to his left hand, “—burned your hand. Is one eye not enough? Would you wait until you lose a limb before you accept people’s help?”

Would you still say it was nothing even then?

MC choked. Her chest felt tight, suffocating. Why couldn’t he see that?

On her lap, Yoosung had enveloped her hand in his. She noticed his burned finger too late, too close to her face. He wiped her tears, the touch featherlight, gentle, careful.

“I never meant to make you cry.” It was a soft murmur, remorse flickering across his eye. “I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was protecting you. That I needed to be strong, to act like everything is alright, so you wouldn’t feel guilty.” His jaws clenched, Yoosung shuddered in a quiet breath.

When he said nothing more, MC swallowed her sigh. "Did you know that by refusing help, when it is clear that you need one, you only put the other person in a difficult position?" she asked. "I was in a difficult position. I'm your girlfriend. I know we met through unusual circumstances, and we still barely know each other, but… the way you pushed me away…" Her hold on his hand tightened. "It felt like you didn't need me, that you were saying this was my fault."

"That’s not what I intended—"

"But that's how I perceived it."

They stared at each other, mouths pursed as they fought to contain their confusion and frustration. MC was the first to break eye contact, dropping her gaze to their joined hands. She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb.

The clock ticked, the seconds dragging long and slow until MC wondered how much time had passed, though in reality, one minute had barely gone by. In front of her, Yoosung sat still, stoic as a statue. She felt his gaze but refused to meet it. When at last he spoke, his voice was contrite:

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way." He returned the strength of her hold, prompting her to look up. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry." He shifted his gaze downward, an apologetic crease to his face. "I guess… I don't know, I guess I didn't want to appear weak in front of you. Like you said, we've only just known each other, and I didn't… I didn't want to look so pathetic. Losing an eye—after all that bravado I had when I asked you to be my girlfriend." He gave a self-deprecating scoff. "I was upset, to say the least. Distressed. Angry. But the thought that I did it for you, that I lost an eye for someone I love… it made it worthwhile, bearable. So I thought that I shouldn't mope or whine or complain, because this is my badge of honor, and I should wear it proudly."

The clock ticked again. Yoosung didn't lift his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with whining," MC said. "In fact, you should whine. You lost an eye, for God's sake! It's only natural that you'd be distressed. But for you to have to deal with all of that yourself… That's not what I want. That's not what any of us want. The others—they've been worried about you too. You've been too cheerful. You act like nothing is wrong when something certainly is. And I understand wanting to appear strong in front of people, I do, but we're your friends! I'm your girlfriend. Shouldn't you trust us to help you figure all this out?"

Yoosung pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry."

She tugged at his hand. "Don't do that again!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Her throat closed up again. More tears welled in her eyes. Before MC realized what she was doing, she had pulled Yoosung into her arms, crushing him in a tight embrace as sobs overtook her. It was a moment before his arms snaked around her, slowly encompassing her entire being. He whispered "I'm sorry" over and over to her ear. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I'm sorry."

When they finally broke free, both of them smiled. She stood up then, reaching for him with one hand winding around and resting on the back of his head. Her lips landed over the softness of his bangs in a gentle kiss, and Yoosung broke into a contented smile.

“Thanks, MC.”

MC pulled away and tilted her head to the side. “For what?”

With the aches of their argument behind them, he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. He met her gaze, his eye crinkling as his smile grew into a brilliant beam.

“For being here for me.”

~ END ~

#mysmerbb #mystic messenger #mysme #yoosung kim #kim yoosung #fanfiction #mysme fanfic

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jungnoir · 4 years ago

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destiny | 09;

⇢ summary: you’re just about ready to give up on life altogether; your love life is in ruins, you’ve lost your job, and your family couldn’t care less about you… and then you meet your blushing guardian angel, and maybe life isn’t so bad after all.

⇢ relationship: jeon jungkook/reader, min yoongi/reader.

⇢ genre: supernatural, angel!au, demon!au, romance, thriller.

⇢ words: 6.5k words.

⇢ warnings: mentions of depression, violence, vomiting. slightly nsfw toward the end.

previously | next

a/n: happy new year! I know it’s been quite a while (literally an entire year since I’ve updated) but I’ve had this chapter pretty much ready in my drafts and just hadn’t gotten around to finishing because. everything. regardless, I hope this sort of makes up for it. love you all! hope you’re doing well. also WOW I swear a lot in this one.

His hand on your neck is meant to silence any screams that might slip out. He applies the perfect pressure to avoid crushing anything vital (and just by the feel alone, you know he’s got quite an amount of strength to pull that off) while simultaneously stealing all your air and forcing you to cower in fear. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know this guy isn’t someone to be fucked with, and all you can think about is the fact that Jungkook is right outside and has no fucking clue what’s going on. The very thought fills you with dread.

“Then again, you’ve got someone helping you.” What once was just a particular, calculated press against your skin becomes a deliberate act of violence as he begins to choke you harshly. You know the pain of his grip might last for weeks, and that’s only if you don’t die in the next minute. “Just makes me wonder what’s so special about you.”

“Nothing!” You rasp out, clawing at his hand now in some weak attempt at breaking away. If you could make enough noise, enough commotion, surely someone-

-but the stranger has already stopped you quick. You aim to throw the door open or something but his free hand quickly apprehends you until you’re just a squirming mess on the verge of passing out. Even your legs are pressed firmly to the wall by his own body, holding you fast so that you can’t help letting a few tears fall. There was no doubt in your panicked mind that this was Seokjin, the angel who’d been trailing you from the shadows for what felt like centuries. His grand act of approaching you, something you’d dreamed up to be a major climactic brawl in a battlefield made for a spectacle, turns out to be so simple. Perhaps that’s what you got for thinking biblically. Why go through all the trouble when he could just squash the problem the minute a chance presented itself?

Now, all you can think is “I can’t die like this”. A sobering thought of pure contempt. Drowning in the river was preferable to this.

You muster what breath you can, eyes blazing, “How does it feel… being God’s lap dog?”

Seokjin is, funnily enough, stunned for a moment. All bravado slips through a teeny crack in his demeanor when you say that, and even though it’s a low blow, it’s also enough for you to thrust a semi-powerful kick to the dressing room door to make the entire thing shudder like an earthquake. That sound, coupled with your comment, makes Seokjin release you in a panic. You hear some gasps from outside, a few people inquiring if you’re alright. An employee sounds most worried amongst the voices. You’re just shy of swinging the door open and forcing Seokjin to be revealed or to disappear all at once, but then he’s grabbed the back of your collar as you scream in frustrated fury. Seconds later, you’re no longer in the dressing room anymore.

Instead, you fall flat on a rough, sandy surface. You’re overwhelmed with nausea, pain, and fear, so your whole body is struggling to pick up on the most important things outside of that, but you do realize quite fleetingly that it’s sweltering. It takes you a few seconds as you curl up on the ground to peek behind your hands that shield your face and discover that it’s blindingly bright where you are, almost like a…

For fuck’s sake. “Of all the places…” You whine with a sore throat, coughing right after from the strain.

Seokjin stands above you and uses his foot to kick you onto your back so that you’re staring up at him and the baby blue sky. His hair color plays against it in an unfittingly gentle contrast, “I thought we might need somewhere safer to discuss things. Oh, and speaking of discussion,” he waves a hand near you and you instinctively flinch back before you feel the pain in your throat subside. You wait a few seconds, but it seems whatever he’d just done had no effect on the rising bile in your throat, so you assume that’s something you’ll have to deal with on your own. What an ass. “Feel better?”

“Fuck you! Maybe if you hadn’t choked me out in the first place-”

“You’d have listened?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t hunted us down to kill us, we would have!”

Seokjin frowns, “I didn’t bring you here to talk about you and that boy, I brought you here to talk about you. I am only concerned with you.”

Whatever that entailed did not sound good in the slightest.

You scramble to your feet and immediately regret the movement as it makes you sick again. The more than 100 degree weather does nothing to fix that either, the sun beating down on you and bouncing off the dusty white sands directly into your eyes. You’re feeling something nasty rising up from your stomach, ready to projectile…

Just as the scene changes, you paint a Victorian rug with streaks of your vomit.

Seokjin immediately groans out loud, placing a rough hand at the back of your neck like one would grab the scruff of a kitten. You’re far too weak to protest, rubbing at your mouth with the back of your hand, so you let him toss you into a chair. The jerkiness of the action should have sent another eruption out of you, but you recognize the relief that has overwhelmed you from the touch of his hand. Had he fixed that too?

“Never the matter,” the angel growls, waving his hand and making the mess evaporate from the very fibers of the rug, “you’re all very fragile. I should have prepared you first.”

“How can you do all that…?” You couldn’t recall Jungkook or Jimin showing off any power like that, and whether it was because of Seokjin’s status or their modesty (and adherence to rules), you were unsure. Most likely both.

Instead of answering right away, Seokjin reaches forward a moving cart and you finally notice there’s a glass pitcher of water (hopefully) next to an array of empty glasses. You take the time he spends pouring some water for you to examine your surroundings.

It looks like a secret room in an old English manor house. The walls are painted a deep charcoal and with the absence of natural light, you could mistake it for the void. The only light that does exist is a strangely dim white light coming from the ceiling. What looks like a rather ornate shell of a skylight (sans the window to actually reveal, well, a sky), seems to hide said white light somewhere in it. It’s such a vague glow that you can’t pinpoint if it’s coming from a lightbulb or magic.

The rest of the room is just as ornate as the “skylight”, filled with deep oak bookshelves, golden artifacts, and shining decorations that already look like they cost more than your house. It doesn’t really matter the longer you think about it. All of it has to be an illusion… right?

A glass is placed into your hand and you break out of your thoughts to make eye contact with Seokjin. He hovers over you with narrowed eyes and when you look back at your surroundings again, you notice all the little decorations have disappeared. Why had he- “We can negotiate those bits of the deal later if you so wish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask, hesitant to drink the water despite how much the heat of the desert had made you crave it.

“Like I said before, I brought you here to discuss you. I’ve been watching you and lover boy for a while and it has become clear to me that you’ve been pulled along for quite the ride. I’m sure it’s all very daunting.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t shown up.”

“How much do you know about our Lord and Savior?”

It was tricky to say the least. You’d grown up on tales of him, an over-powered being of immense stature. No one could come close to him, not even the devil. However, you’d learned bits and pieces from Jungkook, Yoongi, and the others to the point where your ideas of the figure had become skewed. There was no linear understanding of him. You honestly had no idea, “Probably not enough.”

Seokjin huffs, taking a seat from across from you in a chair similar to yours. Crossing a leg over the other, the angel stares you down, “Do you know why I’m after you both?”

“You want to kill Jungkook. Because he committed your sin.”

“Jungkook is my main target, yes, but it wasn’t my sin. My sin was sullying myself with a demon. Jungkook’s sin was sullying you.”

You frown, “He did no such thing! You had a fucking child! Jungkook saved my life!”

“You mean to say he ruined it. You were supposed to be dead a long time ago.”

You’d known that much, Jungkook had told you already. Even if he hadn’t, that had always been the plan. “It was… it was my choice and I wanted it then, I admit it. But I was hurt. I was overwhelmed. I wanted it because I was scared there would be no reason to keep going.”

The angel angles a brow upwards, “And the fallen was that for you? A reason to keep going?”

“It was- it was a lot of things. I was reminded that I existed, and that there are people who can love me the right way,” frustrated at the situation, you glare at him, “what the fuck? Is this some fucking therapy session?”

He has the gall to smile, “God knows you need one. I’d like to be the one to get inside that mind of yours.”

Shit. What if you’d given him just the right information to use against you?

You snap your lips shut and sink back into your chair, bubbling with more dread. He notices your sudden resolve and appears to want to ease your worries, “I’m not doing this to break you. Unlike God, I find you, as a person, quite redeemable. A gentle, pained soul who fell victim to the perversion of her guardian angel. It’s all very sad.”

So God did think you were a lost cause. Jimin had been right after all. However, you don’t want to keep talking when you’re so close to getting the information you’ve been waiting for. It seems even Seokjin isn’t fazed by your silence, continuing on without missing a beat. “You see, usually these angel and human matters can be chalked up to the angel getting too big for their britches. They think they can change things like fate: God’s very flawless plan from the beginning. They are simply… glitches in the matrix, you could say? That’s where I come in. I make sure these issues are handled and that everything goes back to normal. You see, God loves his humans. Truly. He has a bit of a temper, but it’s justified, you know? He loves you all so very much that seeing you stray from a holy and righteous path is heartbreaking for him. He can only excuse so much.

“So he doesn’t. But… sometimes I help him. I change his mind. Even Jesus had to convince God not to blame his executioners. The big guy gets real impassioned about those he loves. It’s all part of the territory of being in heaven’s sovereignty,” at this, Seokjin shrugs, “you were an unfortunate casualty of it. However, I brought you here because I think that you could be saved. You’re simply confused. I’m sure I could convince God to rethink... his punishment for you.”

Your eyes widen, nearly dropping your glass, “He’d do that?”

The angel nods, pleased, “Of course! After all, he just wants you to repent. If you show that you will, well, I could put in a good word for you. He and I are very close.”

“But only for me.”

Seokjin’s smile dims some. He was so sure he’d had you on the hook just then, “Well… yes. There isn't much I can say about angels. Humans are born sinful, but angels are born knowing better. If they succumb to sin, I cannot do anything about that. But… if you feel that you’d be leaving Jungkook behind, and if that would cause you to feel guilty, I can assure you that that would be taken care of. Your memory of him would be wiped clean and you’d receive another guardian angel in an instant. You’d be granted everything you ever wanted. You’d be able to live out a new path of life contrary to the one your fallen so selfishly carved out for you.”

At this, you begin to frown deeper than you ever have. It’s not out of confusion but deep, deep understanding. Seokjin’s deal was asking you to sell Jungkook out and in return… he’d make you happy. You’d forget all about what had happened and carry on a new person, virtually safe. You could only assume that meant forgetting Yoongi too. Everything you’d accomplished so far would be rearranged until the you that you’d become would be so unfathomable you wouldn’t ever consider it.

What scares you the most is that you actually consider it.

This all could end right now and you’d get out alive, maybe all the ordinary people you knew would get out alive too. You’d be completely removed from the situation. You’d just have to forget Jungkook.

“You asked me how much I know about God,” you start, thumbs twiddling, and Seokjin perks up, “the stories humans told of him always kind of scared me. He’s so powerful… he knew everything before it was even created. Nothing can get past him. And yet, he let humans have free will and the right to choose what their path in life would be. That part always boggled my mind. God’s supposed to love us unconditionally, but if we don’t return the favor, we suffer eternally. It seemed like a pretty big plothole in the otherwise ‘flawless plan’ you claim he made.”

“Yes, well, it’s not God’s fault that Lucifer’s so conniving.”

“But it is. Isn’t it? God created him. Lucifer is the one who brought sin upon the world but God is the one that created him. If he knows everything, why make him in the first place? It’s a fallacy,” Seokjin’s eye twitches just a bit as you lean forward, “that God knows everything. Isn’t it? He wouldn’t be so stupid. He had no fucking clue what he’d made when he made Lucifer.”

“I’d watch your tone. God hears all.” The angel’s ominous reply is all that you need to hear. He doesn’t tell you that anything else you’ve said is false or not. Of course not. You know as well as he does that you’re spot on.

You’re so stunted by the arrogance of it all that you have to laugh, “Allegedly.”

In that same moment, the white light above begins to flicker. A distant rumbling sounds from somewhere and that fear you’d felt earlier comes back with a vengeance. Seokjin looks annoyed, if anything, “I only have so much time to sit here with you to chat.” He stands up and walks over to you, seizing you by the arm, “So I’m telling you now that you still have a chance. No one else has to die. Do me a solid and make that a reality.”

Did he really not want to kill you? He’d had so many chances to. Even now, he could just… what did you have that made him hesitate? “You think I believe that?”

The ground rumbles underneath you and then you fall through, Seokjin’s grip slipping off your arm… or maybe being pried off.

Where you land next isn’t as disorienting as the last few times, but it doesn’t feel any better to be ripped away again without so much as a warning. For a moment before you land, you halt, almost floating. Then your feet make contact with stone and then your knees follow under the sudden press of gravity. A quick look around tells you that Seokjin is nowhere to be seen… and that where you are looks vaguely familiar.

The stone continues up the walls to the ceiling, creating a naturally cold room that expands no more than the size of a restroom (no toilets in sight, however). The furthest edge of the room from you is completely dark, while the other is helped by a fire stretching from one long, narrow wall to the other. There is no wood crackling beneath it though, nor is there an actual controlled area for it to burn. Flames simply lick up the bottom of the wall as if commanded by magic. While the rest of your body feels chilly, the warmth of the fire keeps your head warm like a fever.

You lay crumpled up on your knees and hands, staring into the flames with the most bemused expression, wondering what to do now. You’re definitely not intent on travelling to the other side of the room in fear of being met with something sinister you can’t see, but the fire only illuminates so much of the place and there doesn’t seem to be a door in sight. If Seokjin wasn’t here, you doubted this was a place he wanted to be.

Maybe he was torturing you? Intending to keep you in a dark, scary room in order to break your resolve? You didn’t know the extent of power he was allowed to wield but this whole transportation thing was starting to get really annoying. You chance a meek, “Hello?”

Your voice doesn’t echo like you expect it to. It sounds like it’s right up against your face, like you’d spoken into a pillow, the sound eaten as soon as it came from your mouth. Where the hell were you?

“...not exact, okay?!”

You pick up on a voice to your right and turn over with such speed that you land on your ass. Some stones move on the narrow wall, and then the room is illuminated from an entirely different source of light. It takes you a few moments to gather your bearings as your eyes attempt to adjust. Voices are frantic and coming closer, you can hear that much. You pick up on one instantly, “Jungkook.”

Your voice is weak with relief just as he comes into view. He looks an absolute mess as he throws himself at your feet and wraps you up into a bone-crushing hug. The strength of his hug doesn’t even bother you as you cling back with just as much force, grateful tears beginning to gush out of your eyes. You didn’t realize until then just how terrified you’d been, really. It was always there underneath the surface, but something about Jungkook’s sudden presence makes the reality of it all hit much harder. He smells like your shampoo still.

After a couple of minutes in his embrace, you pull away to examine his face, “Are you okay?”

He laughs and the way his tears have clogged up his throat make it sound more like he’s choking, “Who cares about me? Are you?”

You smile, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, “Better. With you here. Where are we?”

“Limbo, hell’s limbo.”

You’re not sure what to say in response to that. After what you’d been through in the last… however long it’d been, that seems the most plausible to you. “Is that like purgatory?”

“No,” another voice speaks from above you and only then do you realize that Yoongi is here too. He looms over the both of you but his gaze is fixed heavy on your face, “purgatory is where the dead go on their way to heaven. This is where the living come on their way to hell. Was a hell of a ride trying to get your ass down here.”

“Yoongi…” You peel back from Jungkook and stand up, a little wobbly as you lean against the wall, “...thank you. How did you do it? The places Seokjin took me… I felt like we were in a dream.”

His upper lip ticks up in a snarl, “It was. The place where you were is a void, heaven’s version of limbo. It’s where angels bargain with humans on the edge of death to repent. It’s an open playing field for angels to present themselves to their humans without them having to be dead or breaking a rule… not like the latter really applies to Seokjin, though. It’s only as strong as your will to be there,” with that, Yoongi reaches toward you and brushes what feels like sand off your cheek, or perhaps he just meant to touch you to make sure you were really here with the way it lingered, “and that’s the only reason I could pull you out.”

It was a lot to digest. You still couldn’t totally understand how he’d pulled you from heaven’s limbo if he was a demon, but that was beside the point. Right now, you just wanted to get out of this creepy box of a room for good. And it seemed you would be getting your wish.

Another figure became clear to you through the doorway, though this figure looked much more intimidating than the two by your side. Dressed immaculately with a sly smile that felt strikingly familiar, a man makes his way into the room, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing his head to you, “He had my help too, of course. A pleasure to meet you (Name), I’ve heard very little about you.” The man holds out a hand to you and you can feel both Jungkook and Yoongi stiffen on either side of you, but neither makes a move to stop him. This had to be another demon, no doubt.

You take his hand and shake it firmly despite your nerves, “T-Thank you for your help as well. May I ask who you are?”

The man grins wider, “You can call me Lucifer. Are you hungry?”

An entire array of human food is set out before you but you don’t have much of a stomach to touch any of it, though Jungkook seems right at home as he fills up his own plate. You can only guess he’s enjoying the hell out of having so much food at his fingertips without having to pay for it.

You can hear his delighted sound effects from the left of you as you both sit on one side of a long table. Lucifer sits at the head of the table to the right of you, also refraining from really eating anything. Yoongi sits right across from you on the other side with an annoyed expression on his face, fingers tapping the heavy oak table top in a rhythm you can’t decipher. It couldn’t be any more awkward.

“No appetite?” Lucifer asks, pointing to the food. There’s meat and vegetables and cheeses that you know and don’t know but none of it seems particularly appetizing to you at the moment.

You shake your head, “No. Actually, I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

“Ah, bet you’re bursting.” He chuckles and takes a swig of something you think might be wine. “Go ahead. I’ll try to recap the last couple of days as well as I can.”

“Days?!” You don’t mean to yell, you really don’t (especially not at the king of hell, but-), “It’s been days?”

Jungkook stops chewing to give you a concerned look, “Of course… how long was it for you?”

“Barely… half an hour, maybe more? But not days.”

“Yes, well,” Lucifer sighs, tucking his hands together in front of himself, “time works much differently in heaven and hell than it does here. Especially for those who end up in heavenly limbo. It’s essentially cut off from the rest of the universe which makes it that much harder to track those who end up there. Seokjin was smart in bringing you there than somewhere else on earth.”

Your head is throbbing at this point. If days had gone by, you could only imagine how much had changed since you’d been gone… “So… what has happened since then?”

“Apparently quite a bit, seeing as I was a last resort.” Lucifer’s tone almost sounds irritated. Like a petulant child, he glares over at his son with an unspoken tension that you would like to delve into much, much later when the important things have been moved out of the way. “These boys have been pretty busy trying to get you back. But we are all eager to know what happened while you were with Seokjin.”

Jungkook places a gentle hand on top of your knee under the table. For whatever reason, you note that his grip feels stronger than you’d grown used to. You’d thought the hug was just because he missed you so much, but even this simple touch was- “He… he found me in the dressing room, cornered me there and told me he’d been trying to get me and Jungkook alone. Somewhere he could really do some damage.” You recite all that you readily remembered, some details slipping as you focus on Jungkook’s touch. Yoongi’s eyes never stop boring into you. “He said a lot. He… he said he wanted to give me a second chance.”

Lucifer raises a brow at you, “At…?”

“Life. He said that if I… if I ratted out Jungkook, he’d work things out with God to set my life back on track. Memories wiped, a new guardian angel, the works.” You can feel Jungkook stiffen next to you.

“And did you take him up on it?” Lucifer inquires.

“No! No, I would… I would never. But he was so insistent… It sounded like he really wanted me to say yes. I don’t think he was planning to betray me if I took him up on it either.”

Lucifer heaves a heavy sigh. Folding his hands underneath his chin, the king of hell spares a glance at Jungkook, “He’s got a thing for innocents: those he believes did no actual harm in a situation. He’s always been soft that way. He has more of an affinity for humans than I ever did, but I have more reason to loathe humans than he does, so I guess it’s understandable.”

“He did… mention that none of this was my fault.”

“Of course! You were only following the path life laid out for you. It was the fallen angel you have beside you that decided to shake things up, and aren’t you lucky he did? It doesn’t surprise me one bit that you’re still alive. You’ve done nothing but suffer the consequences, it seems, against your own will.”

“But what about the demon he fell for? Or his child? Weren’t they killed so he could keep his spot in heaven?”

Lucifer leans forward, “I’m assuming your friends haven’t made it known to you yet, but they aren’t dead. They are both very much alive. In fact, the child in question was one of the people that helped in tracking you down. The mother… she is here, in hell, meant to stay imprisoned for all eternity. Or at least until the rapture,” with that, Lucifer drinks again, maintaining eye contact with your shocked stare, “but it was best that no one knew of their whereabouts. Only a handful of people even know that Inhui still exists. It’s become something of a legend amongst the demons and angels, shrouded in confusion. None of the angels would care for the mother, but the child would start an earthly war if they knew one still walked the earth. As far as they’re concerned, the child probably died from the natural complications of being an abomination.”

You frown, “How is that possible? An angel for every human on earth… that’s billions of angels and no one has even noticed the guy?”

“I was wondering about that, actually. He told us that he’d been walking the earth for a while now. Surely someone would have taken notice, right?” Jungkook speaks next, having abandoned his food entirely.

Yoongi snaps out of his bored stance, “Tae’s an anomaly. He’s forgotten everywhere he goes. His impression barely lasts long. Those people he encountered early on considered him a dream, or a hallucination, or a possession of the mind. His actual presence is… hazy. It’s easier to remember him by his name or his number, but everything else is-”

“Intangible.” His father finishes with a flourish. “No ordinary angel or demon could ever put a face to the name, only a feeling. Along with the rather excessive amount of glamours he employs when amongst the public, it is no wonder no one has sounded the alarm. Go ahead and recall his face in your mind, fallen. I’m sure you couldn’t piece it together even if you wanted to.”

Jungkook’s face screws up a little as an attempt, stricken dumb moments later when he can’t utter a thing. Your stomach churns at the thought, soiling your appetite even more.

It seemed like there was more to that story than you were being told, but you imagined that it would be quite a lot to relay to you in more than one sitting. After all, you still had no clue what you’d missed since you’d been gone, and it only hadn’t terrified you senseless because you were at least certain that the biggest threat to everyone’s lives had been right there with you the whole time.

“If you’re not planning to eat anytime soon, is there anything else you’d like to know? It’s not every day a mortal like you gets to talk to Lucifer.” With a small flourishing wave of his hand, Lucifer smiles at you, charming as ever. It was so strange. Yoongi acted nothing like his father, and yet you saw every bit of him in his expression.

You imagined Yoongi felt the need to distance himself as much as he could from his father’s intimidating image and had ended up creating his own in the process. Where Lucifer was inviting, however, Yoongi was… not for everyone. Even as he stares over the table at you, eyes hooded with what appears to be indifference rather than lasciviousness, you can’t help but see the other in him.

“I suppose not,” you murmur, “but now that I have the chance, I don’t really know what to say.”

Lucifer continues to smile, “Don’t fret! I’m sure after the doozy you’ve been in, you’ll need to rest up. You’re more than welcome to stay here until you feel it’s safe to go back topside.”

The thought of treating hell like a hotel to stay in was tickling to say the least. The minute you rise, Jungkook follows suit, nearly knocking his chair over in the process to follow you. “I’d appreciate that. Is there… perhaps a room I could cool down in? Maybe a bathroom?”

Lucifer had deposited both you and Jungkook in a rather nice room, fitted with all the things you’d find in a nice resort room overlooking somewhere like the Bahamas. The dark, brooding colors of Hell follow you even here, and what little light you are allowed in the room comes from fire or mysterious ambience. Still, it’s enough to splash your face with (what you’re definitely sure is) water in the ensuite bathroom.

Jungkook sits at the foot of the bed, watching you, “I missed you.”

Since the moment that the Lord of Hell and his son had left you to your devices, you’d become increasingly aware that something was off about your angel. You had imagined that it had been from the sheer worry he felt over you, but it was starting to feel different from that. Something not so easily explained. If only… if only you could figure it out.

You pat your skin dry and look over at him, measuring him up and down. Appearance wise, he still had the same haircut, same clothes, same shoes. It was the aura that felt different.

Slowly, you approach him from the bathroom and wish that there would be more light in the room to examine him with. In that same moment, what appeared to be a ray of warm light halos above you both, giving you exactly what you had wished for. When Jungkook looks up, he looks… radiant. “I missed you too…” You whisper, reaching out a hand to cup his jaw. At your touch, he shudders, melting into you, and those eyes then laser focus on your own. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” He answers without hesitation, then turns to kiss your inner palm with such a sensual drag of his lips that you grow hot instantly. The surprise makes you yank your hand away and you swear you hear him whine at the missing contact.

“Y-You just look different.” You squeak, holding the aforementioned hand to your chest as if he’d burned you.

Jungkook’s bushy brows furrow. “Do I?”

When Jungkook had been an angel, he’d had a distinct glow about him that set him apart from others. It was cliche, but it made sense then. You knew that you were dealing with someone from another world. When he’d turned human, he’d felt softer, normal. He didn’t glow in any particular way lest the light hit him through the window just right. But now… that glow was back. In a way that didn’t feel familiar.

You reach your hand out again, but this time you let it wander. You push his fringe back from his forehead, then behind his ear, then down his neck to where a sweatshirt hides his collarbones. In a daze, you fall to your knees before his seated frame and push the fabric back some. You find… nothing. You don’t even know what you’re looking for. A vampire bite? What is so different?

Your hand starts to fall mindlessly as you wrack your brain, but it’s all for naught when Jungkook catches hold of it and intertwines his fingers with yours. His grip is warm and solid. But it’s still- “I thought he’d hurt you.”

You look back up into Jungkook’s eyes as he now leans over you with an intense stare. His hair curls around his cheekbones and twists away from his face at the nape, each strand fluttering as he inches closer until the longest ones are touching your face. “Not much. He healed what he did anyway.”

At that, your angel’s eyes narrow in their scan over you, “What did he do?”

You instinctively swallow. Perhaps because you remember the feeling. Perhaps because Jungkook looks like he could kill. “He… he had to get me to limbo. He had to…” You touch the skin of your throat the same moment you break eye contact, feeling the ghost of Seokjin’s fingers there. It wasn’t so long ago that it had happened after all. You could honestly still feel it.

The silence grows until it’s nearly unbearable, you eventually finding that Jungkook will say nothing while you continue to avoid his gaze. Against your better judgement, you chance a look up at him.

You don’t get very long to look. Jungkook takes both sides of your face and lunges forward like a man possessed and you are forced to follow. In your surprise, you stumble back onto your elbows and Jungkook slots himself between your legs, latching onto your lips in a searing kiss. It’s hot and fast and immature, the kiss of a person who has never kissed before and may never get the chance to kiss again. Youngho had never kissed you like this.

A gentle whimper escapes your mouth but Jungkook inhales it into his own. You feel something primal burn inside you when Jungkook growls out, crouching over you now like a predator cornering his prey, and he’s practically consuming you when you start to kiss back. Can you blame yourself? You easily fold into the feeling because it’s Jungkook and goddamn if you hadn’t wanted to kiss him badly before.

His inexperience does very little to dissuade from how good it feels too, and as you start to take over to guide him, he is all too eager to feel your reciprocated passion. The heady feeling he gives you in his sudden attack pushes all thoughts of Seokjin or the last few days out of your mind like a fast-acting asprin. All you can think of now is how tightly coiled you’d been and how Jungkook is loosening you up one press of his lips at a time.

He lays you on your back and you happily oblige, no cushioning found on the hard floor but you couldn’t care less. Jungkook is careful not to be too rough, aware of your needs as much as his own, and it’s jarringly sweet the way he cradles the back of your head to keep you from hitting it on your descent.

When he’s had enough of your lips (as if he could ever), he starts attacking your neck. He’s lapping at your skin and biting away as if he’s trying to remove all traces of Seokjin’s hands… as if he’s replacing the feeling with him and him only. “I’ll kill him,” Jungkook whispers, a foreign fury in his voice that makes your haze disappear in an instant while he continues to work at your neck, “I’ll kill him for ever touching you.”

Your hand shoots to his hair, feeling your heart beat faster from more than just the kisses, “Kook-” But any attempt at sobering up washes away when, to your surprise, he ruts against you. Youngho had never been that good at using his hips like that either. There was something definitely off with Jungkook.

As much as it pains you, you grab at his hair and yank back, ignoring (or trying to) the filthy groan that he gives in response before peeling away from your skin. You gasp for breath, absolutely winded, “What is going on?”

Jungkook pants past wet lips, “What do you mean-”

“Did Yoongi do this to you?” The sudden heated moment is over when you say that.

Jungkook’s blood has run cold. You have a very strong, haunting feeling that your mounting suspicions have proven correct. His eyes… as gentle as they always were when they looked at you, told you everything. He was not the same Jungkook you’d come to know. Something had happened to him. Something irreversible. You touch his face again and this time Jungkook does not move to embrace it. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. “Why?”

In an attempt to escape your pitiful gaze, Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, cutting you off from seeing him vulnerable any longer. It breaks your heart the longer he stays silent. There’s no denying it now.

A tear of his touches the palm of your hand instead of his lips this time, “How else could I protect you?” He chokes, weak, “I’m not your angel anymore. I can’t be like you. This is the only way... the only way I could stand to look you in the eyes again.”

#majwrites #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook au #angel!jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts au #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi au #demon!yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jungkook angst #yoongi angst #angel bts #demon bts

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damienthepious · 3 years ago

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wow this hiatus sure is long huh

Tomorrow’s Some Kind Of Strangerland (chapter 5)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum & The Keep, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Sir Damien, Rilla, Queen Mira, Original Monster Character(s)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ceasefire, Pre-Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, (some characters tagged will not appear until later chapters), canonical character illness, asking for help, (i still dn’t know how to tag things rip), (uhhhhh canon-typical fantasy monster-hatred? that’s gonna be a thing)

Summary: When Mira took the throne, she did what no human ruler in living memory has done - she reached out, and brokered peace with the monsters. It is a shaky, uncertain sort of peace, but she and the current monster Senate have managed to maintain it for a handful of years now with only minor incident.

Lord Arum has not interacted with the human infection in the Northern Wilds since the ceasefire, but when his Keep becomes ill past his own ability to cure, the Senate has a peculiar idea for how to help the isolated Lord while testing the goodwill of their tentative allies at the same time.

Chapter Summary: Lord Arum adjusts to his temporary chambers.

Chapter Notes: less sick this week, thankfully. things still bad! just hanging in there, trying to keep doing my own thing, as always.

Arum can feel the knight seething as he leads him through the halls towards the… accommodations his little Queen insisted upon. Arum certainly can't complain about the adjustment; anything is better than listening to the vicious little creature babbling on about propriety and duty and whatever petty problems he has with Arum's voice. At least he has enough respect for his ruler to clamp his jaw shut, for a little while.

None of the other knights or servants pay them much more mind than a polite tilt of the head. Substantially more well trained than this irritating creature, apparently.

He buries a sneer. Was Mira joking, when she referred to Sir Damien as one of her most skilled knights, or was she simply setting Arum up for failure? Certainly they won't even get through the next full day before this skittish, irritable thing cracks and tries to kill Arum in his own borrowed chambers. An incident waiting to happen, this obnoxious, impossible to ignore little fool-

Sir Damien opens the door before him, dropping his eyes as Arum sweeps past stubbornly.

The chambers are... acceptable. Arum can see a number of points of structural inefficiency, but nothing so egregious as to worry him in truth. The stone is cut clean, the plush rugs dyed bright and lovely, the walls draped with tapestries and hung trailing plants (this last point being the most comforting; there is nothing he would have seen in his own swamp growing in this room, but the flora still looks glossy and well-cared-for). The front room houses bookshelves, a low table with surrounding cushions, and a writing desk beside a wide window curtained with green that Arum would be worried about if he had any faith that a human could climb these towers. A monster could, and perhaps Arum will still place a precautionary trap on the sill, but it is a relatively low risk. Arum can see the bedchamber through an open door, a much smaller room with a much smaller window.

The bed is piled with pillows and thick cloth. Humans and their soft, thin skin. Pathetic.

"Apparently," Sir Damien says, his tone frustrated and flat, "I will be staying in the adjoining servant's chambers. There is a hidden passage here," he says, and then he moves to brush aside one of the tapestries, pressing on what Arum had taken for a loose stone and swinging a small doorway open. The room behind the hidden door is somewhat smaller, less decorated, more utilitarian.

Arum does not bother to disguise the irritation on his face with this development. The knight certainly hasn't bothered to do the same.

"Provided that you do not enter these chambers uninvited and unannounced, I do not suppose I will have any reason to protest," he mutters, and the knight frowns. "You will not be afraid to sleep with a monster so close by?"

"I am not afraid of you," Sir Damien says, tone arch as he raises his chin. "Besides, I do not believe you would get what you want out of my Queen, if you attempted to assassinate me in the dark of night, would you?"

Arum keeps his eyes fixed on Sir Damien's for a long moment, a growl tickling soft in his throat. "So. You are capable of rational thought. Good." The knight sputters, his cheeks darkening with fury, but Arum turns his face away before he can protest more thoroughly. "Now. Leave me. It was a long journey, and I would quite like to rest unassailed by buffoons for the first time since I began to approach your shoddy little city."

The knight makes another noise, choking nonverbal indignation, but he either thinks better of speaking his mind in this moment or he is simply too angry to speak at all, and after a long moment Arum hears him step through to the other chamber and pull the stone door back closed behind him with an angry thunk.

Arum sags, just slightly, when he is finally alone again. He checks the door back into the palace hallway, first, latching the lock (for what little peace of mind that gives him), and then he begins to set up a few more trustworthy precautions.

He sets a small trap on the wide window, a fragile macrachnidweb lattice laced invisibly across the open sill, which will loudly set off a packet of snapseeds hidden beneath the curtain if broken. He hides another across the smaller window in the bedroom, just in case. He hides a detector under the lip of the table as well, the pseudo-cicada primed to alert him to any magic besides his own or the Keep's.

There is no lock on the bedroom door. Rather unfortunate. Arum sighs, then simply glares hard at the closed door for a long moment before he turns to the bed. He will set up a semi-permanent portal back to the Keep in the morning, when he feels better rested, when he has enough energy to cobble together a makeshift lock of his own. He already knows exactly which tapestry he can move to hide the portal against the wall; all he needs do is arrange the swamp dirt in his bags in the proper place, and then the Keep can grow a little foothold. If it doesn't need to produce a new portal in a new place every night, the strain shouldn't be unreasonable. It will allow him to continue to work towards his own cure while Mira's physician is still distant, and perhaps tomorrow Arum may even rest in his own damned bed again.

For now, he lowers his head, and then he climbs up onto the absurdly soft pile of human fabrics and curls around his packs for safekeeping, his eyes on the unlocked door with sharp distrust for what feels like a long, long time before he manages to succumb to sleep.

Sir Damien can sleep nearly anywhere, if necessary, and still wake with the dawn, with enough time to run through his morning exercises and meditate, at least briefly, with Saint Damien.

Waking within such close proximity to where a monster sleeps, however... it is disconcerting, to say the very least. Though, he did not lie, the night before. He is not afraid of Lord Arum.

He steps out into the hallway to clear his head before he attempts another conversation with that lizard, and he intercepts one of the palace workers, coming to meet him with a tray of food for himself and the monster ambassador. Damien suppresses an irritated huff, managing to thank the worker before he retreats back into his room with the tray.

Damien sets the tray down on the table in his room with a sigh, imagining the look on Sir Absolon's face if he heard that Damien had been tasked with serving food in the private chambers provided to a monster, and then he shakes his head to clear it.

He knocks on the stone door (less hidden, on his side of the wall), and waits a long moment. He supposes that it might take some time, if the creature is still in bed, for him to answer.

More than a minute passes. Damien knocks again.

"Lord Arum?" He pauses, and then he leans to press his ear closer to the stone. He cannot hear anything, though it is impossible to tell if that is because of the stone, or because there is nothing to hear. "Lord Arum, may I- may I come in? I have-" he winces, sighs, "I have breakfast for the both of us, if... Lord Arum?"

He knocks once more, and when that still yields no answer he frowns and grumbles a curse under his breath, and then he dares to press the hidden door open a crack, peering warily through.

The room looks... nearly untouched. Perhaps the monster truly was as exhausted as he claimed, or-

The door to the bedroom is still closed. Damien cannot- should not assume, simply because the monster is not in sight, that the creature has escaped- rather, disappeared into the Citadel unaccompanied, against Damien's orders-

He takes a deep breath, and then presses the door further open.

"Lord Arum, I wouldn't like to disturb you, but-"

A noise in the bedroom, strange and distant. Like- song? Or- chiming, perhaps. Unlike the rattling, rough voice of the monster.

"Lord Arum?" he asks, more suspicion coloring his tone as he steps closer to the bedroom door. "Lord-"

The door swings open, the monster striding out quickly enough to nearly collide with Sir Damien, growling with his frill flared and his cape half-draped over only a single shoulder.

"What? What is it? What do you want?"

"I..." Damien blinks, swallows, and leans back from the way the monster looms above him. "Er- there is- food. For the both of us. You did not answer, and I-"

"Thought you should barge into the private chambers your queen allocated for me?" he snaps, violet eyes flashing, and Damien feels a pulse of irritation burn past his surprise.

"You didn't answer," Damien repeats, more snap in his voice. "Do you want me to bring you your breakfast, or do you not?"

The monster glares for a long moment, his tail lashing behind him, and then he exhales a sigh and turns, reaching a hand over his own shoulder to right his cape again. Damien attempts not to notice the way the muscles of Arum's shoulders move beneath the motion, suggesting far more strength than Damien had previously assumed.

He will... need to keep that in mind.

"Ugh. Fine," the monster grumbles, turning and stalking to the table to drape himself across the cushions with an overdramatic sigh. "Next time I will try to wake more promptly, so you do not decide to kick down my door in a panic."

Damien narrows his eyes, then flicks his gaze into the bedchamber for just a moment before he turns back to his own room to gather the meal again.

The bed looks rumpled, though the sheets themselves seem as if they have not been turned back (did the creature simply curl up on top of the blankets?), and nothing much seems disturbed-

One of the tapestries on the far wall swings lightly, gently, as if in a breeze. Only one.

Damien shakes his head.

They eat entirely in silence, the monster ignoring Damien rather thoroughly over his spiced, vegetable stuffed bread. That is perfectly fine, so far as Damien is concerned. He does his best to ignore the monster over his own meal, despite himself.

"Queen Mira has requested your presence this evening, to take supper with her and a few other nobles, dignitaries, that sort," Damien says stiffly once they've finished, gathering their plates into a neat pile for the palace staff to collect later.

The monster narrows his eyes, his lip curling. "Fine," he says, somewhere near a growl. "If she insists."

She does not insist, Damien thinks sharply, barely biting his tongue. She is the Queen, Lord Arum should be honored that she would deign to grace him with such an invitation-

"That is not until the evening, however," he manages to continue through grit teeth. "Will I be accompanying you into the city today, Lord Arum?"

"Why would I need that?" he asks irritably, and Damien clenches his teeth even harder.

"I would hardly dare to guess," he says, his tone hopefully breezy and not still stiff. "Nor would I dare to assume that you should prefer to spend your time cooped up in this room alone, simply waiting for R- for Queen Mira's physician to return to the Citadel."

The monster blinks, then glances away, his frill fluttering oddly beside his neck and his scales- Damien is almost certain, this time, that he is not imagining it. The lizard's scales shift hue, a mottled pattern up his throat and on his cheeks shifting to a subtly brighter green.

"I do not see what there is to do besides wait, little knight," he mutters. "I do not desire any entertainment you think your city might provide while my home is dying, and I do not trust yourself or the citizens below not to attempt to slay me if I make some social misstep in the pursuit of such, which, as I have seen in the short time I have spent here already, I am very likely to do. I can hardly speak without committing offense. I dare not wander, lest I condemn myself by mistake."

Damien opens his mouth, then closes it again just as quickly. The monster almost seems- beneath his seething anger and that more subtle layer of sorrow Damien would prefer not to acknowledge, he almost seems self-conscious about his noticeable lack of human social graces.

"Well..." Damien says slowly, "If you do decide you would like to see more of the Citadel, I suppose that is precisely what I am here for. You would not be unprotected, and I think... I think you overstate the bloodthirst of the citizenry. Surely you saw, today, there were a number of other monsters in the market."

"Monsters under your bitter scrutiny," he growls, still not meeting Damien's eye. "No. I do not think I should like to risk my neck, even under your noble protection, oh brave Sir Knight."

Damien flushes again at the dripping sarcasm in Arum's voice, and then he turns to glare at the monster.

"There is no need to be so dour," Damien says, halfway snapping and halfway pleading. "The Queen herself has taken up your cause, as you wanted! Your swamp will be saved, because the most brilliant mind in the entirety of the Second Citadel - I can assure you of that personally - has been summoned to lend her skill. You should be grateful for what generosity you have been given even thus far."

"You would prefer me on my knees, little knight?" Arum spits, his teeth bared, and Damien manages - barely - not to splutter. "Have I not groveled thoroughly enough for your tastes?"

"No, I-" Damien shakes his head. "That isn't what I meant, I only- I only-"

"I understand," Lord Arum says stiffly, "that it is the fault of no one that your Queen could not provide me with the assistance I require at this very moment. I understand." His eyes flash, anger pulling quick across an anxiety that Damien cannot help but notice. "That does not mean that I have to pretend to be pleased about the delay."

"Queen Mira is dutiful and wise," Damien says, almost automatically, distracted by the monster's attention upon him. "She will do what is right, and she will do so in the proper way."

"And in the meantime," Arum says, looking away again, his gaze cast out the window towards the slow ascent of the sun. "In the meantime… my home suffers."

"I-" Damien stammers, but the monster does not turn towards him again. "I… am sorry," he says stiffly, and then Lord Arum scoffs.

"It is only us, now, little knight. There is no cause to pretend that you have a speck of care to spare for the suffering of either myself or my home."

"You…" Damien feels heat in his cheeks, feels inexplicable shame in his guts, feels sorrow rolling off of the monster in front of him in slow, undeniable waves. "Do... do not presume to know how I feel, Lord Arum."

"I do not need to presume," Arum says, his lip pulling into a sneer. "You have made your feelings rather intensely obvious."

Damien-

Damien supposes that he has. He swallows thickly, and then he gathers the dishes from their meal and turns back towards the door to his own temporary chambers.

"I... suppose I should leave you be, then. I'll accompany you to supper with the Queen in the evening," he says, only realizing how odd it is to say as the words leave him. "Until then- if you change your mind-" he reaches out, and raps his own knuckles off the stone beside the hidden door. "I will be... here, I suppose. I hope you will not be too bored in the meantime, Lord Arum."

The monster fails to look towards him again, his snout facing the window and his eyes distant, and he barely seems to notice when Damien takes his leave, precisely as unmoving as a statue until Sir Damien closes the door between them again.

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #tomorrow's some kind of strangerland #i dont even know anymore

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tendertenebrosity · 4 years ago

Text

Part 5 of Illiam and Helis’ story. Masterpost is here, previous post is here.

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @sleepysnapdragonart

When Helis came around, swimming up slowly from the depths of sleep, it was to discomfort. They were sitting up, their back resting against something hard, wings flopped out to either side and arms held up awkwardly over their head. Their limbs throbbed and ached, and they were both thirsty and very cold.

Still blearily trying to force their eyes open, they went to pull their arms down.

Metal clinked. Their arms pulled up short, against something cold and hard around their wrists.

The surprise of this was enough to get their eyes fully open. They were sitting on the floor, cold, smooth stone underneath them, legs out in front. They blinked at their own clawed feet and their dirty uniform trousers in confusion before lifting their gaze.

They were in a room, low-ceilinged but long, lit by the clear white light of magic rather than torches or lanterns. A fire somewhere was crackling. There were no windows.

Helis could see a door to the left, a set of heavy bookshelves and a scroll rack to their right. They craned their neck and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull their wrists free of whatever was holding them up above their head. They seemed to be sitting with their back against the leg of a solid wooden table that took up a large portion of the centre of the room, their wrists affixed to the edge of the table somehow. Moving made the ache of their wing and shoulder joints worse. Metal clinked again.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Helis jerked, looking around them wildly. Their wings tensed, long white feathers sweeping against the floor.

Illiam de Graer rounded the table, put a tool down on it with a clatter, and looked down at Helis disdainfully. He had removed a layer but otherwise seemed to be in the same clothes as before; black clothing that made him look washed-out and tired in the glow of the magelights. The collar of the shirt was loosened and his sleeves pushed up past his elbows.

He clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Inconvenient,” he said. “You couldn’t have stayed out for another five minutes?”

“Illiam!” Helis gasped.

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “We have established that you recall my name. Wonderful. At this rate, we might get to talk about something of substance in a mere couple of hours.”

“What did you - what are you doing?” Helis asked, looking around. They pulled at their wrists again. “Where are we? Where’s Reed?”

“Improvisation,” Illiam said. He picked up a sheet of paper from the table and perused it, scratching the side of his face absent-mindedly. He made a face at the faint rasp of stubble. Was it only the light that was making him look tired? “Quiet, now. I’m working, and I don’t need you distracting me. I didn’t even really have time for the trip to Rosdan, let alone this.”

Helis noticed a bandage on his left forearm, awkwardly tied, with a patch of bright red seeping through the material. Had he been injured? While Helis was out? Or had they done that to him? They remembered kicking and scrabbling at him but they hadn’t thought…

Helis fought back the ridiculous, mortified urge to ask after it and apologise. No. No, if I hurt him he deserved it, he grabbed me. And he forced a sleep spell on me!

And he hadn’t answered their question. Any of their questions.

Helis took a deep breath, leaned their head back against the table leg amongst their curls, and tried to think.

They noticed with discomfort that their jacket had been removed, and the arms that stretched above their head were bare. No wonder they were cold. Their wings hurt - the sharp throb of a muscle pulled in Helis’ shoulder, and every joint ached. The feathers were uncomfortably frayed and ruffled, and one primary still dangled sadly from its shred of shaft. That was… bad. A broken feather would stay broken until Helis molted and got a whole new set, which was probably months. It had been a long time since Helis had damaged any major feathers that badly.

Illiam sighed, and Helis jumped, but he wasn’t even looking at them. He turned and strode back to the table, this time the same side that Helis seemed to be cuffed to. He began to move things around up there, paper rustling and metal clinking.

The room wasn’t quite the same as other mages’ workshops Helis had been in, but that was obviously what it was. The walls and floor were grey stone, and something about the lack of windows and the feel of the roof above them made it feel like they were either underground or deep inside a structure. There were no big stone buildings in the Rosdan forest; the closest villages had been wood, and not large enough.

So obviously while Helis slept - they carefully ignored the panic that began to twist inside their chest - they had been taken quite a long way. How far? Why?

If Helis craned back and rolled their eyes up as far as they could, they thought they could see a faint glint of metal up around their wrists. Silver? Illiam wasn’t paying them any attention. Cautiously, they reached for magic, just to confirm it for themselves. There was nothing there; nothing but fear filled their chest.

Alone, no magic, somewhere very far from where they were supposed to be. Helis took a deep breath.

Calm down. You won’t help things by panicking. There must still be a way to fix this, improve this. Illiam was frightening, familiar but changed, impatient and angry and threatening. But Helis was good at talking to people, good at making people see reason, being nice until they were nice, too. They could do that here, couldn’t they? And he had stepped in between Helis and the Duke. Surely they could work with that.

“Illiam,” Helis said, trying to speak calmly. Their wings trembled. Be quiet, be reasonable, be calm, all people really want is to be listened to and reasoned with. “You, um. You saved me. Thank you.”

The noises of work from the table stopped. Tip their head though they might, Helis couldn’t see Illiam’s face; but his hands seemed to have fallen still. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “I suppose you’re welcome,” he said eventually, his voice flat and dull. “You really shouldn’t have come. You can’t say I didn’t warn you what you’d find if you came North.”

Helis fidgeted their claws nervously. “Well, Rosdan is neutral, so it…”

“It’s still the North,” Illiam said. “And I believe the correct phrasing is was. It was neutral - but I expect our forces will have it secured in a week.” There was an abrupt click as he picked up a tool again. “All of which is a moot point to you, as you are currently in Toralda.”

“Wh-!”

“I recall telling you to be quiet.”

Helis took a deep breath of horror, shackles curbing the urge to clap a hand over their mouth. He had taken them across the border?

Helis had lived all their life with stories about how bad things were in Toralda for people like them. That even the commonborn humans were practically prisoners to their lords, and wildborn were little more than property. That nobility did whatever they wanted and neither the church nor the government cared enough to stop them. Stories about terrible things, cruel punishments and harsh abuses that happened over there, over the mountains, a reminder of how lucky their family was, not ever a thing that Helis themself would ever see…

They took a panicked breath, then another, chest heaving underneath their shirt, feeling tight. Tears prickled and burned in their eyes. Why had he done this? This couldn’t be happening! Helis needed to find Reed and get home.

Through the haze of stinging tears, Helis saw movement. They looked up to find Illiam dropping down to his knees beside them, holding something in his hands they couldn’t make out that glinted in the light. His eyes met Helis’ for one instant before shifting away.

Helis sniffled, tried to wipe their face on the fabric of their shoulder. He was very close. They drew their knees up and leaned away as far as the silver cuffs would allow. “W-what…”

“Don’t do that,” he said, sounding distracted. “Hold still.” He reached up, over Helis’ head, with both hands. One took hold of their wrist as if to steady them.

His hand against their skin set panic rising in their chest. The last time he’d told Helis to hold still, it was because he was trying to cast a spell on them.

“No!” Helis jerked their hands, twisted against the table and tried fruitlessly to get their feet under them. “No, wait, what are you - ”

There was sudden, bright pain at their forearm and they shrieked, wings flaring against the table. Their elbow hit the wood with a crack that hurt almost as much as whatever Illiam had just done.

Illiam hissed, gripped their wrist tightly. “Don’t be such a baby, that barely hurt. I should know.”

“Ow! What are you doing?” Helis gasped, craning their head to try and see past him. Their wing battered weakly at Illiam’s shoulder, and he ignored it. They threw their head back in frustration. “Let go! What are you doing?”

Finally, he released his bruising grip on their arm and sat back. They got a better look at the things he was holding; his belt-knife, and a little glass bulb filled with blood.

Helis choked in horror, going momentarily limp. “Illiam!”

He’d - cut Helis, and collected their blood?

They watched in shocked revulsion as he calmly, methodically set the gruesome things down. He stoppered the bottle, wiped the knife, and picked up a roll of white bandaging material. As if this was a completely normal thing to be doing, and not like a, a scene out of a trashy horror play. Blood magic? Blood magic was a thing that people actually did - that Illiam actually did?

“What the hell is that?” Helis wailed. They dragged in a breath past a throat and nose clogged with tears. “Illiam, what the hell is any of this? What are you doing? Why am I here? Why did you take me to Toralda, I can’t be here! You know why I can’t be here!”

He set the bandage back down, face blank.

Now that the words had started, Helis couldn’t stop them. “You can’t just - you can’t just cut people! What are you doing with my blood?” They shook their hand, making the cuffs clatter above their head. “What’s going on with this, you know I’m not dangerous! You just have silver shackles lying around? You used a sleep spell on me!” Tears ran down their cheeks, unchecked. “I don’t understand what’s going on. You can’t just - ”

“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I like,” Illiam said. His hands curled up into fists on his thighs.

“When I first saw you I thought -” They shook their head, trying to get tears and clinging strands of hair out of their eyes. “I thought you might help me. We used to be friends! I never did anything bad to you! You c-called me… you... ” They gulped in a breath. “And what about Reed? You didn’t let me see where they took him! Where is he? You know perfectly well he’s not a spy, we only came North to get the stone! I told you why we were there! Why didn’t you - ”

Illiam rose to his feet abruptly.

“What, you mean this?” he said.

He strode across the room, his stride short and filled with pent-up energy. He was out of view for a couple of seconds; when he returned he was holding the large chunk of clear stone that Reed had dug out of the riverbank.

He hefted it in one hand. “This is what you came all this way for?” he demanded. “This bauble, this shiny rock? How fucking stupid are you?”

Helis sniffled. “I -”

“No, you shut your mouth!” Illiam shouted, suddenly at the top of his lungs, voice bouncing off the stone walls. He spread his arms wide in a furious, violent gesture. “This war has been building up for the last four years, and you thought you could just flutter on over into contested territory like it was a crossroads marketplace! For this? And now you’re sitting there wailing at me that you ‘can’t’ be here? The fucking gall of you!”

I was doing my job, Helis thought, blinking desperately up at him. Blood trickled and itched as it ran down their arm. You weren’t supposed to be there.

“Well, you can shut up and pay attention, because even as simple-minded as you apparently are, I’m only going to have this conversation once!” He was standing over them, his hair pulling free of its neat tail, eyes bright and blazing with fury. “This? This is Toralda. I can do whatever I want. You are a hundred miles from the border and you are never going to be able to make your way back over it, so you had better start getting used to that fact. You and I are not friends. We are at war and you are my enemy, loath as I am to elevate you with that title!”

“But you -”

He lifted a finger, viciously. “Interrupt me again and you’ll regret it!” he hissed. “From now on, you’ll keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told. You live under my sufferance, and you have no idea how lucky you are. You thought I was going to help you? You naive little idiot, I have.”

Helis wrenched their hands against the cuffs. “This is not helping! This is - ”

He moved suddenly, violently; Helis flinched back against the table, but he wasn’t coming for them, he was turning, and lifting up the chunk of raw stone up towards the ceiling. He made a noise, something quiet and inarticulate and enraged.

The stone flew from his hand, hit the opposite wall, and shattered into countless splinters and shards.

The sound of it echoed through the workroom; Illiam turned around.

“Compared to the alternative,” he snarled. He looked down at them, hair falling in his face, breathing a little hard. “It is. You want to know where your friend Reed is? He’s dead. Because that’s what you get in the North when you poke your nose somewhere you shouldn’t, and don’t have anybody sentimental enough to step in and pull your ignorant Southern ass out of the fire.”

A few splinters had landed as far as Helis’ feet. Helis stared up at Illiam. “No,” they whispered.

Illiam said nothing. His eyes were narrowed as he watched them.

Mindlessly, they pulled their feet up towards them, away from the pieces of conduit stone, glittering sharp and milky-white. They found themselves pleading. “But… but he can’t…”

“He can be, and is,” Illiam said, abruptly. He pushed a falling strand of hair out of his face, irritably.

Reed. Reed is dead. Helis tried to wrap their mind around the thought of it. He was dead. Their friend, who’d kept their spirits up with jokes the whole long journey North, who’d stepped between them and trouble a dozen times, who Helis had set camp, and broken camp, and cooked and slept beside for weeks.

Helis had been sitting here in this workroom trying to talk Illiam around and feeling sorry for themself, and all along Reed had been dead.

Helis stared at the ruin of the stone, spread across the floor in thousands upon thousands of pieces. Conduit stone shattered much more easily with physical force than an overload of magical energy. It was an expensive thing to break in a fit of temper. But we came all this way. Crestmead needed that stone, they wouldn’t have sent us into danger if we didn’t need it. Reed found that stone for us. They opened their mouth, and something like a sob came out.

This wasn’t fair. It was Helis who was supposed to be in danger, Helis whose life wasn’t valuable here. Reed had always thought so - he hadn’t been concerned for his own safety. But here Helis was, being told he was dead like it was an afterthought? Like it didn’t matter enough for them to witness it, or even be told straight away? Like he didn’t matter?

Illiam approached, and Helis cringed away from him as he bent down and reached out.

“Don’t touch me!” they cried - but then their wrists came away from the table with a clatter. Illiam shoved their hands into their lap, still linked together with silver but no longer tethered up above their head.

Helis immediately threw themselves backwards, away from him, scrabbling and fluttering. They landed on their back with a thump and a surge of pain from their abused wings, under the table.

Illiam hissed in frustration.

“Oh, for - ”

“Don’t touch me-e!” Helis sobbed. They swiped at their face with their bound wrists, shoulders spasming. “Don’t - get away from me! You - you monster, how could you, don’t touch me!”

“Do you want your arm bandaged or not?”

Helis made no attempt to answer, and to their ragged relief, Illiam didn’t attempt to drag them out from under the table. Past their own hitching, sob-choked breaths, Helis heard him mutter something obscene, then stride over to the doorway on the other side of the room. He shouted something, out the door - orders to somebody else.

Helis didn’t care what he said or what was going to happen next. Everything was ruined already, as bad as possible. What did it even matter? They pulled their knees against their chest, pulled a wing over themselves like a patchy white-and-red tent, and cried for Reed.

#Illiam #Helis #whump drabble #character death tw #offscreen character death #blood tw #violence tw #Fantasy bigotry #fantasy whump #non-human whumpee #non-binary whumpee #winged whumpee #blood magic #dehumanisation tw #involuntary sleep tw #destructive anger #grief tw

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 5 years ago

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busy (mafia!niall)

Warnings: language

Pairing: Mafia!Niall x mafia!reader

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: So. in our last blurb nights. we’ve had a few discussions about mafia!niall, and one discussion in particular was about niall and y/n both being involved with the mafia and honestly. the power that exudes. was so much. so here’s a little thing about that pairing. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please let me know!! feedback is really appreciated :))

{masterlist}

The clock ticks loudly, echoing around Niall’s office as Y/N waits for him. It was a grand clock, but mostly there for decoration, as Y/N knows that Niall wears a watch every moment of the day. It has to be grand, however, to match everything else in Niall’s office. The entire room is a coherent flow of mahogany shelves, leather couches and chairs, a sturdy, ornately carved wood desk, and bookshelves that line the walls, filled with volumes upon volumes of different books. The clock on the shelf is the cherry on top of the room, despite not being needed.

However, between the clock on the shelf and the watch on Niall’s wrist, Y/N thinks he has enough reminders to remember to be on time to meet her for lunch. And yet, when Y/N’s watch and the clock on the wall and the watch on Niall’s wrist and every other clock in the city of Dublin struck 1pm that afternoon, Y/N was sitting in her favourite restaurant, alone.

So now Y/N sits in Niall’s office, a drink from his bar cart in her hand, just waiting for the man to return from whatever business was so important that he had to stand her up. She was vaguely irritated when she arrived, but after waiting another forty-five minutes, her irritation is growing.

The clock ticks again, and Y/N takes another sip of her drink. The clock ticks again, and Y/N taps her long nails against the hardwood of the desk. The clock ticks again, and the door to the office finally swings open.

Niall is dressed in his usual uniform of a suit. This one is navy blue, with a white button up shirt underneath, the top few buttons undone. The shirt is a little rumpled, but the jacket is still immaculate, meaning he had the good sense to take it off before doing whatever made him forget about their lunch. His fingers bare his usual rings, but his hands are a little bruised with the imprint of his brass knuckles. And his watch sits on his wrist, immaculate, and still in perfect working order.

The clock ticks again. Y/N’s irritation grows again.

“Y/N?” Niall stops short when he sees her, shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Really?” She asks, voice hard. “Are you that forgetful?”

“Forget—oh.” Niall freezes, his eyes flickering to his watch and then the clock on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Y/N stands up from his chair, walking to the front of his desk. Her heels click loudly against the ground. “You stood me up.”

Niall sighs, fixing the cufflinks of his shirt. “I got busy.”

“I don’t care.” Y/N stand in front of him so he can see the fire in her eyes. “You stood me up. I don’t get stood up, Niall. Not by anyone, and you’re no exception.”

Being the daughter of a powerful mafia leader in America means that Y/N is adjusted to Niall’s life. When they met a few months ago, there were no awkward conversations about his work, or explanations behind why he does it. She already knew that he took over the Irish mafia when his father retired. She already knew of his serious disposition with work, and how he prioritizes it above all else. And Y/N hadn’t minded that, until today, when he prioritized it over her.

Because Niall knew of Y/N before they officially met, as well. He knew how she demands the best, in every aspect of her life. He knew she could be as ruthless as her father. He knew she never flinches or blinks first. And so, with Y/N standing in front of him with such a look in her eyes, Niall knows that she is her father’s daughter. And she won’t let this go.

“I’m sorry.” Niall reaches out and touches her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “I am. I got caught up with work, lost track of the time. It won’t happen again.”

Y/N smiles, and perhaps Niall doesn’t know her as well as he likes to think, because he takes that as a sign that he’s safe. Lulled into a false sense of security, he walks past her to his desk, picking up a file that lies open.

“Did you look through this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N ignores the question. “You didn’t lose track of time, Niall. You forgot.”

“This file is private, Y/N. You can’t just—”

“When you walked in here, you were surprised to see me.” Y/N picks up her glass again, taking a long sip. “You forgot about our date. That’s rude.”

There are many times that Niall is amazed at Y/N’s tenacity and stubbornness. Save for fucking her into his Egyptian cotton sheets, watching her work is one of his favourite things. She does whatever it takes to get what she wants, and doesn’t stop until she does. When Niall watches her work someone over, he’s in awe.

When he’s the one getting worked over, his awe lessens.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” Niall asks, rubbing his eyes before giving her a long look.

“I want you to admit it.” Y/N replies, as if it’s that simple.

Niall sighs. He knows it’s not that simple. “Alright. I forgot.”

Y/N’s heels click again as she walks to the back of his desk, touching his chest. “Next question.” She pushes him down into his chair. “How did you forget?”

Niall groans under his breath, half in frustration. But only half. “Christ, Y/N—”

“Am I that forgettable?” Y/N cocks her head to the side, pulling herself up to sit on his desk. She crosses her legs, not missing how his eyes flicker to the bare skin of her thighs that’s exposed. “Hm?”

Niall can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “No. You’re not.”

“But apparently I am, because you forgot me.” Y/N leans forward, her cleavage on display as she touches Niall’s hair. “You left me waiting at Vincenzo’s like some poor teenage girl who got stood up on a movie date with a football player from her biology class.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Niall groans again, a bit louder as she tugs on his hair. “It won’t happen again.”

“Do you know what I would do to anyone else who did that to me?” Y/N asks, her voice growing lower.

Niall smirks a bit. “Are you threatening me, baby? It’s kind of hot.”

His smirks falls when Y/N drags her hand down his chest, reaches underneath his jacket, and fingers the handle of the gun in his holster.

“No, Niall. This isn’t a threat.” Her voice is sultry and low as her hand leaves the gun and moves back up to his chin, gripping it hard. “You’d know if I was threatening you.”

With one more tug, Y/N lets go of his hair, getting up from his desk and walking to the bar cart. She refills her glass with liquor as Niall takes a moment to catch his breath, straightening his suit jacket as he does so.

“You owe me dinner, by the way.” Y/N’s tone slips back to casual, like she didn’t just have Niall pressed into his chair with a hand on his gun. “Tonight. Or are you too busy? Should I call Harry?”

The growl that leaves Niall’s lips is purely reflex. “Why the fuck would you call Harry?”

“If you’re too busy to make time for me, then maybe he will.” Y/N shrugs as she sips her drink.

Niall stands from his chair and walks over to her. He meets her within three long strides, his hand landing on her hip possessively. “Has he been calling you?”

“He’s always calling. And if you’re too busy—”

Niall cuts her off with a kiss. He takes the glass from her hands, setting it down on the bar cart before pushing Y/N against the bookshelves that line the wall. Her hands move to his hair and tug again, but with a different intention than how she did it a moment ago. Niall responds in kind by tugging on the hem of her dress, but she pulls away.

“I asked you to take me to dinner, not for a quick fuck in your office.” Y/N says. Her voice is firm, but Niall can hear a slight waver at the end of it. Underneath her act, she wants him as badly as he wants her. “So? Are you too busy?”

Niall chuckles, brushing his thumb along her lip before giving her the answer she wants. “No, baby. I’m not too busy. Never too busy for you.”

Y/N hums in satisfaction before pushing him away from her. She straightens her dress as she walks to his desk, picking up her clutch. “Make a reservation at Kaligaris’ for 7. You can pick me up at 6:30 sharp.”

Niall fixes his hair as he walks to his coat rack, pulling off her jacket and holding it for her to slip on. “Not Vincenzo’s?”

“After I sat there for an hour alone? No.” Y/N snorts as she slips on the jacket. “Nice try.”

“Alright. 7 o’clock reservation, and pick you up at 6:30. Got it.” Niall brings her hand to his lips, kissing it quickly. “Shall I walk you to your car?”

“No. I don’t want to distract you from your work.” Y/N shrugs with a wry smile as she opens his office door. “After all, you’re a busy man, aren’t you?”

Even after the door shuts behind her, Niall can hear the click of Y/N’s heels as she exited his office building. Wherever she goes, she is a domineering presence, and the office of the leader of the Irish mafia is no exception.

Niall laughs to himself as he walks back to his desk, taking a seat on the plush leather chair before calling his assistant through the intercom.

“Pierce, call Kaligaris’ to make a reservation for 7 o’clock tonight.” Niall says in a low voice, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “And clear the rest of my afternoon. I have to stop at Tiffany’s.”

#feedback is appreciated :))#mafia!niall #niall horan #niall horan x reader #niall horan x you #niall horan x y/n #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan imagine #niall horan fic #niall horan blurb #heartbreak weather #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #one direction fic #mafia!niall au

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mysterioushogwartsrequests · 4 years ago

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Reign of Fire

This is just a story I came up with while playing at the Magical Creatures Reserve. I hope you all like it! It’s a little shorter than the others, but I haven’t seen a story relating to the reserve so I wanted to try to figure this out. It’s a very subtle Charlie x Jacob’s Sibling story because I’m basic, teehee

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) has been acting quite suspiciously, it’s up to her friends to figure out why she’s grown increasingly anxious.

“Oi, has (Y/N) always had those scars?” asked Tonks questioningly eyeing (Y/N) from the Hufflepuff table.

Penny Haywood sat on Tonks’ left, re-reading her potions essay while her enchanted utensils cut up her dinner, “What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes fixed on her parchment.

On Tonks’ right sat Chiara Lobosca reading a rather colorful book with a large cake on the cover, “She’s been acting quite strange lately,” she spoke up, flipping through the pages of her baking book, “I’ve had to heal her multiple times this week.”

“Come to think about it,” muttered Penny, now looking up at (Y/N) who was undeniably shoving large pieces of meat into her school satchel, “She asked me to whip up some healing potions and burn-healing paste, but I didn’t ask what for because she seemed a bit anxious about it.”

Tonks’ narrowed her eyes at the jittery girl scurrying out of the Great Hall, “Not the least bit suspicious at all,” muttered Tonks while rolling her eyes. Deciding this was too weird, she shoot off her seat, “Let’s go, we’re going to follow her.”

Both Chiara and Penny watched in shock as Tonks’ sprinted out of the hall after (Y/N). Both sighing as they gathered their belongings and made their way after their friend.

“So, you’re not going to tell us why you were shoving meat in your bag?” asked Tonks in frustration after finally catching up to her friend, “or why you suddenly look like Mad-Eye Moody’s long lost cousin?”

(Y/N) forced out an awkward laugh, shoving her heavily bandaged hands into her robe pockets in an attempt to hide them, “I already told you,” she said edgily, “I was just grabbing some for Hagrid, no need to worry!”

It was ridiculous of her to think her friends wouldn’t see her during dinner time. Now, she had the three Hufflepuff super-sleuths on her case.

“This isn’t going to end well,” (Y/N) thought, forcing a grin as her friends stared her down, “But I’ve really got to go!” Without letting her say another word, (Y/N) sprinted out of sight leaving Tonks, Penny, and Chiara stunned in the empty corridor.

“I think you might be onto something, Tonks,” added Penny, a mixture of curiosity and concern decorating her features as she deciphered their current encounter, “We’ll have to figure this out.”

Chiara remained silent, confused as to why she thought the tips of (Y/N)’s hair looked a bit singed. Shaking her thoughts away, Chiara assumed it must’ve been a trick of the light and followed her roommates out of the corridor.

—

Later in the day, (Y/N) entered the library with the hopes of checking out a specific book. She was immediately greeted with the unfriendly stares of her classmates as she made her way through the sections, tightening the bloody cloth around her palm as she went.

“They’re not staring for no reason” thought (Y/N) as she awkwardly met the gaze of the students in the library. It was rather unusual to see someone with a scar over their cheek when they did not have one the day prior. It was also unusual to see the uniform sweater with a rather large scorch mark on the side.

But there wasn’t much she could do. It was impossible to tell any of her friends if it reacted this way towards her. It wasn’t safe to tell them yet, it would be too dangerous.

“Just stick to your plan” she reminded herself, locating the section labeled “Magical Creatures”.

Charlie stood by one of the bookshelves, reading the library’s copy of Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland for the second time this week. Once again, his expeditions into the forest proved fruitless and his optimism on finding a dragon in the wild was dwindling.

“Hey, Charlie,” greeted (Y/N) in a whisper, sliding past him in search of her book, “How’ve you been?”

The smile he meant to greet (Y/N) with faded as soon as his eyes landed on her wounds, “(Y/N), what happened to you?” asked Charlie, instinctively reaching out to examine her bandages, “Who did this to you?”

Usually, (Y/N)’s reflexes would’ve avoided Charlie’s grip, but they seemed to have failed her this time. Out of fear she would get in trouble, she had avoided seeing Madame Pomfrey for a couple of days so when Charlie’s fingers wrapped around her forearm, she couldn’t help but wince.

“It’s nothing,” she stated unconvincingly, pulling her arm away from Charlie’s, “Bad match at the dueling club.” Determined to avoid this conversation, (Y/N) moved towards the shelves in search of her book, nervously tugging at her robes to hide the scorch marks on her sweater.

“Dueling club?” sneered Charlie, “Snape would’ve never let you walk out of there like this! You look as if you’ve been mauled, you’ve got scars all over your face!”

“Charlie be quiet!” pleaded (Y/N), turning to face him, “I can’t tell you right now, just trust me.”

The grave look (Y/N) gave Charlie was enough to make him back off, but the idea of letting this go did not sit right with him.

“At least let me heal you,” proposed Charlie, reaching for her arm once again, this time waiting for her to extend it. (Y/N) reluctantly began unwrapping the bloody bandages, stretching her arm out for Charlie to see.

There was a large bloody gash on her forearm along with various other burns, bruises, and cuts. It was as if someone, or something, had dragged a giant claw down her skin. Charlie looked up at (Y/N) in shock but did not say anything, instead, he pressed his wand against the wound and uttered the healing spell. Immediately the blood began seeping back into her body and the gash closed itself up, leaving only a small scar in the center.

(Y/N) admired her mended arm with a smile, “thanks, Charlie” she uttered, pressing a kiss against his freckled cheek.

Charlie was so caught off-guard by her kiss that he didn’t even notice her pulling a book off the shelf behind him or when she tucked it in her bag. His hand flew to his cheek, appreciating the lingering feeling of her lips as he watched her leave.

Shaking himself back to his senses, Charlie shoved his book back into the shelf and marched out of the library with a newfound determination to figure out what on earth (Y/N) could be up to.

In his haste, he also failed to notice (Y/N) had swiped the library’s only copy of:

From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper’s Guide

—

Night had finally settled and most of the students had returned to their respective dormitories. It was a distinctively clear night and the half-moon shone brightly over the castle grounds, illuminating all who walked underneath it.

(Y/N)’s cloak billowed behind her as she scurried past Hagrid’s Hut during the late hours of the evening, the satchel over her shoulder overflowing with supplies. Surprisingly, (Y/N) didn’t take the path towards the Forbidden Forest, instead, she took a turn through a clearing past the lake.

Charlie watched intently from behind Hagrid’s pumpkins, “What are you doing?” he asked aloud, momentarily startled when he actually received a response.

“We could ask you the same question,” a female voice called behind him, “but I think we have a pretty good idea why.”

Apparently undergoing their own investigation, Tonks, Penny, and Chiara had exited their common room and followed (Y/N) through the castle. Charlie brushed the dirt from his trousers as he rose from his hiding spot, a smile playing at his lips when his eyes landed on his friends.

“(Y/N) acting weird to you?” He asked casually, earning a nod from all three girls.

“If you mean more than usual, then, yes” replied Tonks mirthfully.

“We better get going,” added Penny, and the four of them quietly began tracking the muddy footsteps (Y/N) had left on the path.

However, the deeper they progressed, the more difficult it became to track their friend. The once empty path had quickly littered with upturned trees and roots. They were all having a difficult time understanding why (Y/N) would travel so deep into this section of the forest so late at night, but they were determined to find out.

Charlie trudged through the mud with his wand raised, the tip of it lighting the path for him and his friends. Nervously chewing at his bottom lip, he kept his gaze fixed forwards in hopes of finding (Y/N) standing somewhere nearby. The four of them remained quiet as they walked, waiting for any sound that might lead them to where she might be hiding.

After what seemed like half an hour of walking, they finally found themselves in another clearing completely different than the one they entered from.

“Merlin’s beard,” Tonks spoke up, amazed by the scenery in front of her.

“Borf!” exclaimed Chiara happily, running over to the werewolf cub in front of a forest opening.

“What is this place?” asked Penny, stepping forwards to follow Chiara who was now petting the cub.

The area surrounding them contained multiple biomes, enchanted to remain within their own sections. Charlie stared out in awe, his eyes carefully examining the blindly white snow falling over the distant mountains and the small creatures streaming up the crystal lake.

“Bloody hell,” Charlie muttered breathlessly, walking past each section in amazement before pausing to gaze at the burnt pasture meters ahead of him. His eyes widened once realization began to settle and it only took one deafening roar for Charlie to figure out what (Y/N) had kept from them.

“(Y/N)!” screamed Charlie, taking off like a bullet towards the volcanic pasture, ignoring the cries of the girls behind him.

“Charlie!” Penny called after him, but her voice was drowned out by the violent roar reverberating through the forest.

“Come on!” yelled Tonks desperately, unable to hide the fear in her face as she pulled Penny and Chiara towards the pasture.

The roars grew louder and louder as they approached, maneuvering through scorched earth and the smoke that surrounded it.

“Come on, just listen to me!” the desperate voice of (Y/N) cried before it was drowned out by another great yowl, “Here!”

(Y/N) tossed up a large piece of steak, flinching as the creature dove its head down to swallow it. The beast roared once more before opening its mouth and spitting out a large, stream of fire towards the trees nearby. With a scream, (Y/N) dove to the ground, the heat of the flames radiating above her as the large dragon annihilated the already scorched trees.

Charlie halted, his mouth agape when his eyes landed on the enormous Hungarian Horntail chained to multiple boulders at the edge of the pasture. The Horntail screeched as it aggressively flapped his wings, the large gusts of air putting out the fire it had started in the first place.

(Y/N) stood up from the ground, reaching into her bag from another chunk of meat before carefully stepping towards the thrashing dragon. She gulped as she stretched out her free hand in an attempt to soothe the creature before tossing up her final piece of meet, once again ducking as the Horntail devoured it in a single go. Noticeably subdued, the Hungarian Horntail flapped its wings and settled itself upon the flat rock, its yellow, lizard-like eyes fixed on its caretaker nearby. (Y/N) kept her distance from the dragon, stepping back in relief after no more screeches came from it. She let her legs crumpled underneath her in exhaustion, catching herself with her hands as she attempted to catch her breath, spooked by the dragon’s earlier outburst.

Charlie still couldn’t believe his eyes. Not only was he face to face with a real Hungarian Horntail, but he was in front of one (Y/N) had captured and had been taking care of for who knows how long? All he could do was stand there in shock, his eyes never leaving the black-scaled creature laying over the stones.

It wasn’t the heroic dragon encounter he had always pictured.

It was better.

There stood (Y/N), expertly handling a wild dragon after successfully hiding in on Hogwarts grounds. Charlie had spent countless hours searching for a dragon of his own, but had never succeeded so seeing (Y/N) handling the Hungarian Horntail sparked a feeling he had never felt before. Charlie’s heart thumped against his chest as he stared at (Y/N), a dark blush spreading across his cheeks after noticing how incredibly attractive she looked.

Unfortunately for Charlie, he didn’t quite get the pleasant introduction he had hoped for. Upon setting eyes on the dragon, Penny let out a blood-curdling screech, effectively angering the creature as she did so.

(Y/N)’s head snapped towards the direction of the scream, springing to her feet as the Horntail rose once again, bearing its sharp fangs towards the four teenagers huddled near some trees. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, (Y/N) sprinted towards her friends with her wand in hand as the Horntail reared back, a ball of light forming at the back of its throat.

A large jet of heat shot from the Horntail’s mouth and towards the now horrified looking teenagers. (Y/N) planted herself in front of them, screaming out the words, “Protego Horribilis!”

The fire that shot towards them was suddenly deflected upwards off the large barrier (Y/N) had cast, the force of the flames pushing her back as she held her ground. Now, the only sounds that filled the pasture were the sounds of the raging flames, and (Y/N)’s indefatigable screams of exertion.

Charlie, Chiara, Penny, and Tonks ducked behind her as the flames shot past them, all of them gazing up at (Y/N) with thunderstruck looks on their faces. The dragon halted its attack, sinking back down onto its rock as the final bursts of flame bounced off the barrier. A large shattering noise resonated through their ears as the shield broke, the vibrations shooting through her arm and hurdling her back towards the ground. With loud thuds, (Y/N)’s body rolled over the dirt halting a few meters away from her original position.

Dazed and confused, Charlie opened his eyes to see (Y/N)’s body sprawled out against the dirt. “(Y/N)!” He called, sinking down beside her and easily lifting her unresponsive body against his own, “Hey, wake up!” he tried once again, a hint of panic in his voice as he lightly shook the girl in his hands.

Chiara, Penny, and Tonks sank down around Charlie, their eyes wide with fear as tears welled up in Charlie’s eyes. Quickly delving into her bag, Penny scrambled to find the potions she had prepared before they set off after (Y/N).

“Here,” she said, hastily shoving a revive potion in Charlie’s hands, “It’s supposed to wake up an unconscious person.”

Without hesitation, Charlie popped open the vial and tipped it into (Y/N)’s mouth while Tonk’s held her backward, allowing the liquid to travel down her throat. While the others fed her the potion, Chiara had already begun healing the cuts and scrapes on (Y/N)’s limbs, the streams of bandages from her wand tip wrapping themselves around it.

(Y/N) scrunched up her face and stirred awake with a small groan, her eyes slowly fluttering open. She let out another loud groan feeling the pain shoot through her body as she finally came to, “I-Is everyone alright?” she choked out, straining her neck as she took a headcount of her friends.

“You’re mad,” sighed Charlie in relief, smiling down at the girl in his arms, “absolutely bonkers, you’re worried about us right now?”

(Y/N) smiled at Charlie sheepishly, patches of dirt and blood covering her usually clean face, “Well, you can’t say I don’t worry about you” she laughed but winced immediately after feeling another burst of pain shoot through her, “I think I might actually have to see Madame Pomfrey this time.”

“You THINK so?” exclaimed Tonks sarcastically, the tension in her body easing as (Y/N) smiled up at her friends, “I’ve got to admit, you had me completely fooled this time. I’d never guess you’d be hiding a dragon!”

“You could’ve been killed, (Y/N)!” Penny cried, “You should’ve at least told one of us!”

(Y/N) closed her eyes in contentment, a small smile playing at her lips as her friends babbled around her, “I know, but I’m just happy you’re safe.”

Penny’s concerns faded as she watched (Y/N) lay in Charlie’s arms, her serene expression making Penny smile comfortingly, “That’s all thanks to you.”

Chiara nodded in agreement, “What can we ever do to thank you?” she added, returning her wand to her robe pocket.

“Nothing,” (Y/N) stated bluntly, “If I had told you what I was doing, you would’ve never followed me here and you wouldn’t have been in danger.”

Charlie scoffed at her statement, “We’re going to thank you properly,” he stated, pulling her in for a gentle hug, “Thank you for saving us, (Y/N).”

Once they were finally ready to go, Chiara, Penny, and Tonks gathered up (Y/N)’s belongings and lit the way back to through the clearing. Charlie scooped (Y/N) up in his arms and carried her all the way towards the castle, her arms draped around his neck for support.

“What did you think about her, though?” (Y/N) asked Charlie quietly, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder.

Charlie glanced down at the girl in his arms, a large grin spreading across his lips, “If you weren’t injured, we probably would’ve stayed there for hours,” Charlie admitted, “We’re going back as soon as you’re better, I want to know everything about her..”

(Y/N) watched him happily, his excitement seemingly healing her as they traveled back into the castle, “I was going to tell you first, y’know,” she added, “I just wanted to wait till she was a little tamer.”

Charlie chuckled and pressed a kiss against (Y/N)’s forehead, “I know, but you don’t have to worry about that right now. We’ll take care of her together from now on.”

Pleased with how everything had turned out, (Y/N) let her eyes close and she quickly drifted to sleep in Charlie’s arms, grateful to have her friends around her.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x mc #chiara lobosca #nymphadora tonks #penny haywood #hogwarts imagine #harry potter hogwarts mystery imagines #hogwarts mystery #jacob's sibling #hungarian horntail #Harry Potter #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #Magical creatures #magical creatures reserve

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trvelyans-archive · 4 years ago

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You probably should’ve known that Gray would find you here.

Although, to be fair, you did tell him that this is where you go when you need a break. But you thought that, at least, if you didn’t tell him which bookshelves you wedged yourself between, he would never find you if he came looking. Unfortunately for you, he came looking. And he definitely found you.

You don’t know if he did it for your sake or Nick’s. Maybe that makes it all worse.

He lingers at the end of the aisle, scratching the back of his neck and scuffing a stained patch of carpet on the floor with the toe of his shoe. (You can’t see it from where you’re sitting on the floor - you only know that because you look at the same thing whenever there’s someone else in between the bookshelves doing something weird like looking for an actual book and you’re waiting for them to leave.) The lighting in the library casts odd shadows over his face, but you can tell he’s looking at you - and probably smiling sheepishly at you - and clearly waiting for you to make the first move.

Fat chance.

Nick doesn’t get it. He never gets it. He understands that you’re upset but doesn’t understand why, and trying to explain it to him is useless, especially because he can hear your internal monologue in real time and by now should have memorized all your problems as well as his chocolate chip cookie recipe. But he doesn’t, which means he should know to stop listening and tune you out when you’re thinking bad things about yourself - after all, it always leads to an argument - but he didn’t, and now you’re here, tucked away in the darkest corners of the library like an afterthought with the only person you want to talk to not knowing that because he can’t hear your thoughts from the end of the aisle.

You could ignore Gray, and he’d leave. That’s something you know very well.

But you wave him towards you anyway (and nearly roll your eyes at his cautious approach).

You don’t like to fight when Gray’s around. You both know that it upsets him, trying to play referee, trying to make it productive - and he knows that it upsets you whenever he takes Nick’s side. Nick’s his best friend, of course, so he has every right to defend him, but... you just wish things were different. In literally every way there is.

“Hey,” Gray says as he comes closer, shoving his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants while the air conditioner above him rustles his stupid perfect hair and makes him look like the even more stupidly perfect love interest of a bad silent European film. “I didn’t think I’d actually find you. I almost gave up ten minutes ago.”

You don’t need to read minds to know what goes unsaid in the awkward silence that follows. I’m glad I didn’t. Though usually you’d be secretly pleased to know that, right now it’s just another nail in the coffin. After all, lately, things have been changing - he’s been taking your side a little more often, tentatively backing you up when you and Nick get in an argument. It’s easier that way because Nick’s much more likely to forgive him (especially considering you’re pretty sure Gray’s just doing it for show) but... that sucks, too. He can’t keep playing on both sides and wait for a truce that’s never going to come. Or, even if it does come, it certainly won’t stick.

But he’s not a quitter. And neither are you, at least not in this case. And that’s the worst of it - you really are trying.

Contrary to what it might seem like, you and Nick get along most of the time. You tease each other and make jokes and talk about stuff happening around the city and then, when you disappear up to your room to watch movies, he turns on the radio and bakes cookies or makes dinner or... well, whatever else he does after work. Living together works if you don’t spend enough time together for you be irritated by him, and if you don’t sit close enough to depress him with your thoughts.

But sometimes even tucking yourself away into the shadows doesn’t help. You should know that, because Gray found you in the library tonight anyway, and his eyes on you make you feel like you’re stuck in a fucking spotlight. Nervous sweats and buckling knees and all.

You sigh. “Maybe I didn’t want you to find me,” you say, trying to be nonchalant about it.

If this was Nick, he’d be met with a ‘fuck off’. Well, okay, maybe not that, but it’d certainly be implied. Gray is different, though.

Jerk.

“You would’ve hidden better if you didn’t want me to find you,” he says with a quiet laugh. He’s right, too, and it wouldn’t have been hard. You could’ve just grabbed a book and hidden your face behind it until he passed by the aisle, or, in a more extreme case, knocked down a couple of bookshelves as a distraction and then bolted in the middle of all the commotion. “I just... I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to look for the right words so you don’t actually bolt. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

You nearly sigh again, but you bite your tongue to hold it back. “I’m fine,” you insist.

“You’re not, Marian,” Gray says. His nose wrinkles as he frowns. “Mari.”

“What, can you read my mind or something?”

Unfortunately, the joke falls on deaf ears. If usually does when Nick and Gray are trying to be serious and you’re cracking jokes so you don’t cry or knock something over (usually your’s) or both. He sits back, stretching his legs out in front of him, and stares at the tips of his shoes. “It got intense back there,” he says.

“Yeah.”

He’s obviously waiting for you to take the lead on this conversation, but you’re not going to. He clears his throat. “So...”

“I don’t want to hear it, Gray,” you say with much less conviction than you’d like.

“I think you hurt Nick’s feelings,” he continues. Like you hadn’t said anything at all.

You try again. “I don’t care.”

Gray lets out a soft sigh, and you don’t know whether it’s from sheer disbelief or straight-up disappointment. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He doesn’t need to read your mind to know that you feel bad. He can probably read it on your face - with him, it’s your worst enemy. Of course you feel bad. Nick gave up his young adulthood to take care of you, and you can never thank him enough for picking up the slack and taking care of you after everything that happened with your parents. But that’s part of it. Fuck, that’s most of it. You can never thank Nick enough for everything. You’re a failure to your family. You’re a disappointment. You’re nothing but a big fat zero.

And you know that very well. The world has made that very clear. Why would you bother pretending any different? And why does Nick? Why does Gray?

“He should know better,” you insist anyway, because like hell you’re going to admit you’re the one at fault here. “I had a bad day, and he knows that, and he didn’t tune me out like he should’ve when he knew I was going to be in a bad mood.”

“He wants to help,” Gray says.

“I don’t want him to. We all know how therapy went, right? Poorly. And if they can’t fix me, what can Nick do?”

The words sting - you can see it on Gray’s face. Still, he pushes through. He perseveres. Because some people can do that, you think, and it’s something you always manage to forget. You certainly can’t. “He wants to be there for you. He just wants to help,” he repeats.

So do I. Gray doesn’t say it, but you know he’s thinking it.

“It just makes it harder,” You’re surprised at how quickly your anger has turned into exhaustion. Or maybe you’re not. “And I’ve told Nick. And he doesn’t get it.”

He sits back on the heels of his hands, thinking, and you stare at the space between you while you wait for him to say something. Bringing up therapy was a low blow - it definitely wasn’t a nice part of your life, and one Gray was unlucky enough to be a part of. One time you came home after a session and locked yourself in your room for a day and a half straight, and you’re sure Nick probably cried about it at some point before he and Gray managed to coax you out like some sort of wounded animal. It’s a painful memory. For all three of you.

That’s one of the few things you agree on.

“I know it can be frustrating,” Gray says finally, and you look at him again. “And I know he gets on your nerves. And I don’t blame you entirely, Mari. I know your condition can be...” He chews on his bottom lip, looking for the right words because he probably thinks there’s a chance he’ll scare you off. “Difficult. But Nick is trying to make you happy. He loves you.”

That’s all he can manage to say right now, apparently. Which you can’t blame him for.

After all, Gray doesn’t get it, either.

“Well, I love him too,” you mutter, looking at your shoes. There’s no point in pushing anymore - you’re tired, and you want to go home, and above all, you don’t want Gray to hate you. You already cause him much more trouble than you’re worth. “You could tell him that next time you see him.”

Gray chuckles. “Maybe you can tell him yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “Depends on how he greets me when I get home,” you answer. “If he goes in for a hug, I’m out. If he made a batch of apology cookies, then...”

That was another joke, but Gray must have heard it this time. You know that because his eyes light up and reaches into his pocket, fishing around for something until, a few seconds later, he leans forward and holds his arm out as far as he can without getting too close. In between his fingers are a couple of plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookies. “He started making them right after your left,” he says, smiling kindly at you so the corners of his eyes crinkle.

You lean forward a little, squinting at them knowingly. “Did you take one, Grayson?”

He laughs, reaching up with his other hand to scratch the back of his head. “Maybe,” he says. “But they’re for you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He thrusts them in your direction again. “Truce?”

You meet his eyes and force a stream of several images through your brain. Frog guts. Crying children. Bloody zombies with terrible make-up and detached limbs. Sure, it’s all pretty dark - something you’ve become accustomed to - but it’s meant to keep people away, and it works for you. Most of the time. Not on Gray, though, who is still looking at you and smiling, and you wonder how he’s allowed to be so perfect when you’re the exact opposite, and why the fuck that’s the reason you love him, too.

You take the cookies from him, giving him a smile of your own. “Truce,” you agree. For now, at least, but to Gray, it seems like enough.

#oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #her full name is marian btw :3 #the inspo for this came from like.... a few of the asks...........#the one about the hidden intervention stat - though this is pre-book so we can jump that hurdle when we get to it LKSJDFLS #and then the one about gray not being able to date an mc who is hostile to nick #and then the one about nick not rlly getting mc's grudge against their parents (if they have one which mari does)#i think mari and nick like each other but they have different... perspectives ??? mari is a very self-involved person #i like the ask where it's like. nick cares about people's intentions which is why he can forgive easier. but mari can't #because people don't INTEND to hear her thoughts/read her mind (well some of the time at least) but they do anyway #and she feels like it takes away all her autonomy and privacy and whatnot and Yeah ANYWAY #also this is abt the ask where it's like. gray (and sally's) romances are abt 'knowing the person intimately b4 falling in love w them'#that ask literally took me out. it pinned me to the ground. it got me in a chokehold. i really do love him #ALSO THIS IS PRE-BOOK FOR ANYONE WONDERING.... MARI IS PROBABLY LIKE. 18-19.#so if any of the lore is wrong i will be so mortified. jo please do not read this LKJFDKLSJL #i just had such a vivid image of this fic and HAD to write it yenno. or else it'd haunt me. but ANYWAY #I'M RLLY SCARED I WROTE GRAY WRONG BUT I TRIED MY BEST I WENT THRU HIS TAG LIKE TEN TIMES LKDJFKLD #OK. ANYWAY I SAY FOR THE 5TH TIME #my writing #my ocs

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minghaocouture · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Templar!Kim Mingyu x Elf Mage!Reader Genre: Dragon Age AU, enemies (?) to lovers, angst, established universe WC: 5k+ Warning: magical lobotomy (through branding), language

A/N: So this is for @merakiiverse job au collab! I’ve been wanting to write a Dragon Age au for like...ever, and this just gave me the push I needed. So there are some terms from the game used in the fic but I did my best to explain them without taking away from the story. Also really glad i finished this before i got sick lol.

“Come on wake up!” You groaned, slapping away the hands of your best friend as he tried to shake you awake. You had gotten to sleep pretty late last night, having snuck into the circle library to do a bit more reading after hours so you were trying to bask in the last few minutes of sleep before your lessons today.

You heard a loud groan from the younger male before everything seemed to turn upside down and your frame was sent tumbling to the stone floor of the Apprentice Quarters with a loud thud and a shriek. Your eyes snapping open to glare at your dear friend Chan with his hands still gripping the mattress that he had just thrown you from.

Quickly you shoved your palms against the chilled stone flooring to push yourself up, as the male laughed hysterically and dropped the mattress back onto the simple wooden frame of your bottom bunk.

“Chan, I want you to remember that we are trapped in this tower together for the rest of our lives. So I will be getting you back for this.” You muttered angrily as you brushed off your scratchy white sleeping robes that the circle had provided for you. Fueled by frustration, you quickly fixed up your bed so that the senior enchanters wouldn’t be angry with you for making a mess.

“Hey come on, don’t be like that!” He quickly exclaimed, offering you some assistance with fixing your bed if only so he could get on your good side once again. It’s usually what he would do to try and get on your good side, things like taking your cleaning duties or distracting the templars so you can sneak into the libraries at night. “I woke you up for a reason!”

“And what would that be?”

“They brought in new templars, fresh new faces for us to make fun of!” He made a good point. During your extended stay in the circle Chan and you had taken to picking at the Templars that were assigned to ‘guard’ the tower, well the Templars that wouldn’t immediately attack or detain you for your teasings. You shuddered as you remembered being thrown into the cramped cell that was used for solitary confinement.

“How many this time?” You questioned, pulling your daily robes from the chest at the foot of the bunk beds that you and Chan shared. You swiftly stripped yourself of the uncomfortable white material of your night robes and slipped on the navy blue skirt, once again curious as to why the skirts had such delicate embroidery on the hem if they were simply to be given to mages. Maybe it was something to make your people think they were in a higher position than they were, either that or a small ‘oh here are some pretty robes, we definitely consider mages people!’ kind of thing. You weren’t too sure.

Chan took a seat on the bed as you tied the skirt to fit your waist, he wasn’t bothered by your disrobing at this point. After all, the two of you had been in this tower since you were children and it wasn’t like the tower offered much privacy for any of the apprentices. If you wanted that you would have to pass your harrowing, only then would you receive private quarters.

You struggled with your skirt for a moment, it being far too big for you, but it wasn’t like they made new robes for every apprentice; everything you owned was a hand me down from either a senior enchanter or...a tranquil.

“There were four of them, they all looked like they came right from training too. No old farts this time,” He explained, lounging on your too thin mattress as you slipped the top piece on, the long sleeves and thick fabric felt just as suffocating as it did every day, and it also continued to show your status as a lower being in the eyes of these people. The small gold trim wasn’t as nice as it was on the human’s robes, and you were sure that was the point. It was something that looked nice, but not as nice as the human mages robes that Chan wore. It wasn’t enough that your mage abilities make you a lesser being but your elven blood as well, you were certain that the Maker had a sense of humor when he made you.

With practiced ease you tied the laces of your sleeves around your wrists before working on the clasps of your belts. It was a constricting and suffocating outfit that made you feel quite claustrophobic at times. As if the robes were just as bad as the tower itself.

“Well, I guess let’s go check them out. Gotta let these newbies know that not all mages are just gonna let them walk over us.” You tried to seem optimistic but after being in this tower for almost 16 years, it was a little harder to force that smile sometimes. Which was why you were grateful you had Chan with you, the two of you looked out for each other no matter what happened.

He hopped off of your bed and took a firm grasp on your wrist before pulling you out of the shared apprentice chambers, ignoring the strange looks from the templars and other apprentices as the two of you dashed into the hallway on the first floor of your prison.

The two of you peered around the corner into the entrance hall as you watched the initiates be inducted by Knight Commander Greagoir, the head of your captors, he was telling them all about their duty to the citizens of Ferelden and the Chantry, all that nonsense. It was basically just propoganda to make these people feel like they had the right to place themselves above you.

The new initiates weren’t too impressive, once again all humans of course, because the precious Chantry couldn’t trust elves such as yourself to become Templars. Most likely because elves would be more likely to opposed the confining of people just for circumstances of their birth, at least the ones who weren’t already brain washed into believing the Chantry’s inane teachings. That thought always reminded you that even if you weren’t trapped in this tower, you would simply be in an alienage in one of the many towns around Ferelden, another prison. Elves simply weren’t welcomed or free anywhere, at least not in a human society. There were surprisingly three women and only one male this time, which was abnormal because women seemed to stray more towards becoming Chantry sisters than Templars. So that was interesting, you’d have to figure out their names. The only interesting thing about the male was his ridiculous height. He looked almost tall enough to be a member of the Qunari, all he was missing was the horns, or at least you assumed since you had never seen a Qunari in real life.

If only you knew what would follow this day.

***

“You know, you aren’t supposed to be in the library after lights out.”

You almost screamed in surprise at the unfamiliar voice. You knew the schedule for the Templars and usually you were able to skirt around and hide whenever it was time for their rounds to reach the libraries. Apparently tonight was determined to be different. Glancing up from your book you flashed the Templar a sheepish smile, instantly recognizing this man as one of the new initiates whose name you had yet to learn. It wasn’t exactly...forbidden but initiates were definitely encouraged to not give their name to the mages or learn the names of the mages either, it was probably so they didn’t connect that you were real living beings and develop a conscience.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said I had an incurable illness that causes me to sleep walk around the tower, would you?” You were likely to be in deep shit because of this. Knowing how new recruits were, usually the super brown nosing type, they wanted to make superiors happy so that they could get promotions. Unfortunately for you, that usually meant getting mages into trouble.

Knowing this was probably why you were so shocked to hear the giant male snort, in an attempt to hold back a laugh. In all the years of living here, you hadn’t met a Templar who actually laughed at your jokes or smiled at you...like this male was doing right now. He glanced over his shoulder looking towards the opening in the shelves that hid the two of you from view. This library was almost perfect for hiding, the rows were like their own little hallways with bookshelves that almost reached the ceiling which was perfect for blocking the light of your candle when you were here at night. He must be checking to make sure that none of his co-workers had entered the library after him.

Soon his attention was back to you, a small boyish smirk on his faces as he spoke. “Well I suppose I’d ask you to tell me about this terrible illness, is it contagious? I’m not sure the other mages would like it if I was roaming the halls in my sleep.”

You were once again dumbfounded by this human. You wouldn’t expect him to think about what would and wouldn’t upset the mages, usually the Templars just did what they wished with no regard for those they were meant to be watching over.

“No, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t like that. Lucky for you, I was born with it just like my hideous magic.” You didn’t truly believe that your magic was horrible. If everything was done by the Maker for a reason, then so were mages! People were just taking Andraste’s “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,” thing a bit too far.

“I don’t think your magic is horrible. It’s a gift from the Maker! The Maker doesn’t give bad gifts,” He confessed, quite a controversial opinion for a Templar to have. With one more glance over his shoulder to make sure that the two of you were still alone, he pulled out the chair across from you and took a seat.

“I’m Mingyu. What’s your name?”

***

After that fateful night in the library, Mingyu and you kept in contact but only in the dead of night and only when he was scheduled to patrol the first floor library. Tonight was one such night.

“Chan is getting suspicious, ya know?” You mentioned, laughing softly from your seat at the table the two of you frequented. He raised a brow at you and tilted his head slightly, his lips jutting out in a small pout. He honestly looked pretty adorable like that, nothing like the fearsome Templar act he had to put on during the day.

“He thinks I’m shaking up with another apprentice and not telling him.”

“Imagine the look on his face if he knew you were just hanging out with me.” Mingyu retorted, going to rest his cheek on his palm only to remember that he was wearing his gaudy templar armor and deciding against it. This caused him to pout more and for you to laugh, making sure to keep your volume down so you weren’t caught by anyone else patrolling the area.

A silence fell over the two of you as your laughter subsided. It was here where the two of you were illuminated only by candlelight that you felt safe. That was something you weren’t used to feeling. In the Circle, there was a constant need to watch your back and be on your guard just in case some random Templar got pissy because you ‘looked at them funny’. It was a struggle for survival.

These nights were different though. You could almost imagine that you weren’t locked inside this tower you could dream about possibly being free and in the outside world that you vaguely remembered. Hell, how long had it been since you had seen the sun?

"How long have you been in the Tower?"

The question was innocent enough, but it definitely threw you off guard. It wasn't something you liked to think about often. It had been so many years ago and it wasn’t exactly a...pleasant memory.

"It's been...I think about 17 years almost? I developed my magic when I was around 6 years old and my mother was very devout. So she turned me into the chantry, saying that the Maker had frowned upon her and her family by giving them a Mage for a daughter." It hurt a lot thinking back on the day that your mother had abandoned you. Her pleas to the Chantry mothers, begging them to take you as she also begged for the Maker's forgiveness. Thinking she had obviously done something wrong if she had given birth to a mage.

You watched a frown set it self onto his face, obviously not having expected to hear such a thing. Most parents went so far as to hide their children from the Chantry, making them apostates, illegal mages, so that they wouldn't lose their precious bundles of joy. Just like Chan's parents. They had fought tooth and nail to keep him when the Templars came, it even cost them their lives. Chan didn't like talking about it but you knew that he still had frequent nightmares about that horrible day.

"What about you?" You questioned, diverting the attention from your situation and onto Mingyu. "Why did you become a Templar? I'm sure being a regular knight would have been just as nice, if not easier. At least knights aren’t also stuck inside the Circle tower." It may not have been a prison to the Templars, but they were still trapped inside these halls as well. Most weren’t really able to leave either unless they were going to visit their families, and even then that was rare.

He chuckled dryly at your words and shook his head.

"Something we have in common, I suppose. My family is also very devout, very deep into the teachings of the Chantry. All the men end up becoming Templars if they can. It's in our blood. So of course, as soon as I was old enough to hold a sword I was sent off to training to try and become the best Templar the Kim line had ever seen." The look on his face was one of melancholy, one that you recognized as a look that you had seen on other mages. The look of someone trapped in their own fate.

"Guess we're...kinda in the same boat, huh?" You gently nudged his arm that rested on the table with one of your fist. It was a small gesture, but one with meaning for both of you. Reaching out he gently, or as gently as he could while wearing full plate mail, took your extended hand in his own. The cold metal was a stark contrast against your heated skin, causing you to shiver lightly. He gave a small squeeze and a tiny smile made it’s way onto his face, as if he had been comforted by your words.

You felt your heart stutter for a moment, watching the features of his face in the candle light. It was still for a moment before he released you hand and stood from his chair.

"I should get back to my patrols before any other the others get suspicious. I'll leave a note in our spot when we can meet up again."

You were moments away from responding but stopped short as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against your forehead. You were stunned still and silent as you watched him pull away, smiling at you once again, before slipping off into the night.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared after him in shock. Your face flushed with heat, and you knew that Kim Mingyu would be the death of you at this rate.

***

"I hope this doesn't offend you but...what is so bad about being made Tranquil?"

You winced slightly at his words, the thoughts of the Tranquil always frightened you. Of course, being a Chantry boy, he had been told from a young age that being made Tranquil was a mercy for mages. Because if you were Tranquil then at least you were alive. It was all a lode of rubbish. Instead of just answering his question, you decided to ask one of your own.

"Do you know Owain? The Tranquil who runs the Circle stock room?" He nodded slowly, unsure of where exactly you were going. "I arrived at the tower before he was turned. He was a kind man who took me under his wing and helped me adjust to life at the tower. I was very young and so very scared, but Owain had basically turned into a father figure for me. I cared for him so much." You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over as you recalled the man you once knew.

"One morning, a few years after Chan had been sent here. I had to have been around 11, well we woke to find Owain standing in front of the stock room just like he does now. Only he was no longer the kind, father figure I had grown to love. He was so cold, lifeless. Being made Tranquil isn't a mercy to mages, it's taking every part of them that makes them who they are and ripping it away." You tried to keep quiet, but the more you spoke the more anger and fear bubbled in your guts. You had barely even registered that you had begun crying.

"You become a lifeless husk that holds the shape of who you used to be."

You couldn't bring yourself to look up from the table, to watch the emotions that were surely playing out on his face as he watched you cry. You were surprised at how silently he had moved, because you were soon pulled to stand and held tightly against his armored chest. It wasn't too comfortable because of the plate mail he constantly wore, the metal poking into your skin and it reminded you that while this embrace was comforting...it was also dangerous. Against your better judgement, your arms quickly wrapped around him and pulled him closer as you tried your best to keep your cries quiet. As you sobbed you heard him whisper soft nothings to you, but one stood out from the rest.

A promise that he would never let you be made Tranquil.

***

It wasn't long before those soft forehead kisses from before became kisses of passion. Soon you didn't need the candle light as your guide as you followed the curves of his body under his armor. Things changed quickly, and before you knew it two years had passed and you were hopelessly in love with Kim Mingyu. Something that should have never come to pass.

You were certain that at least First Enchanter Irving knew, he somehow knew everything that happened in the Circle Tower, and while you weren't a very religious woman, you found yourself praying to the Maker that Knight Commander Greagoir was still clueless. Unfortunately the one person you wanted to talk to about this was the person you were most determined to keep in the dark.

Lee Chan, your best friend.

"You should tell him." Mingyu, gently caressed your cheek, his gloves had been taken off long ago as the two of you lounged in your usual spot in the library. Your meetings had gotten farther and fewer between as he rose in the ranks of the knights and you stayed a simple apprentice.

If you were being honest you were a bit worried about that as well, but Mingyu assured you that it was nothing to be concerned about.

“Oh sure, that’ll go well. I can picture it now. ‘Hey Chan, you know the Templars who watch our every move and are sometimes ordered to strip us of our entire sense of self, yeah I’m in love with one of them. The tall lanky one that has been trying to joke with you, yeah the one you complain about all the time that’s him’.” You chuckled to yourself as you thought about his reaction to that, and not really realizing what you had just admitted. Not until you glanced over at Mingyu and found him staring at you dumbfounded.

“You love me?”

You froze, like a A million thoughts raced through your head, all of the best and worst possible outcomes. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if this was just fooling around? What if he said he could never love an elf and he had just been using you? What if, what if?! Your heart thudded loudly inside your chest as you stared at him, unable to enunciate the way he made you feel.

Luckily for you all of those what ifs were cut off as his hand grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss filled with such fire that you could almost feel yourself being burned. Everything he wanted to say was trapped inside this kiss, you weren’t alone with your feelings and this kiss told you all you needed to know and more.

After a string of long, intense kisses that you were almost certain would lead to another round of light touches and soft moans, he pulled away. His forehead pressed against your own and a large almost blinding smile was plastered on his face.

“I love you too.”

***

You stared at the small flame of your candle in silence, he was late. Usually he was exactly on time, never early and definitely never late. It was too dangerous otherwise. Your stomach was in knots at the thought of what could possibly be keeping him. That’s when you heard the sound of armor clanking against the stone flooring, almost like the person was running. Since you weren’t entirely sure it was him, you quickly blew out your candle and slid under the table to hide.

The footsteps got closer and your heartbeat seemed to be almost as loud as the steps themselves. You only relaxed at the small call of your name. The familiar voice had you out from under the table in record time.

“You scared the daylights out of me Mingyu, I was worried something had happened.” You confessed, using a small bit of your magic to light the candle’s flame once again. The light gave way to the terrified look on his face, streaks of tears stained his cheeks, and you found yourself running to his side to wipe away the fresh batch that was threatening to spill out.

“Mingyu, baby what’s wrong?” You whispered, doing your best to comfort him by taking his hand in your free one and using the other to gently caress his cheek.

“We need to go. The Phylactery chamber, we need to find yours. I need to get you out of here.” His deep voice cracked as he tried his best to control his tears. He looked so frightened and pale even, despite his tanned skin. Your heart sunk as you thought of your Phalactery, the vial of blood that had been taken from you when you arrived and was stored inside a chamber with all of the other apprentice’s. It was the templar’s way of tracking you if you had ever escaped, and was the biggest reason you had never attempted to escape the circle.

What he was suggesting was crazy though, there was no way the two of you would be able to storm the Phalactery chamber, there were two locks and it required a fully realized enchanter to unlock one of them and you...had yet to be called for your Harrowing. So you tried to console him.

“Baby, what are you talking about? You know we can’t do something that crazy. If we get caught you’ll be kicked out of the order or worse, sent somewhere like Aeonar. Why are you ev-”

“They want to make you tranquil.”

Your heart stopped at his confession, eyes going wide as your blood chilled within your veins. Subconsciously you took a step away from him in disbelief, you didn’t question the legitimacy of his words because you knew for certain that he wouldn’t lie to you like that. Not when he knew your fear of being made Tranquil. You watched as he stared helplessly at you and began speaking once more.

“Knight Commander Greagoir thinks that...he thinks that you might be a blood mage. Even suggesting that you- that what we have is because of a demon’s influence.” He took a step forward to close the distance between the two of you, taking your hand back into his own. He liked holding your hand, he had said in the past, it made him feel loved so very loved.

“I know it’s not. I tried to talk to him but he...he wants me to perform the rite. Which is why we have to get you out of here!”

Your mind seemed to be going a million miles per hour but also seemed to stop all at once. Your limbs had gone numb as you stared blankly at the floor in terror, you weren’t sure what to do. If you ran on your own then they would just send Templars to find you and with your phylactery, it would be quick work and both you and Mingyu would end up dead. If you followed Mingyu’s plan, you would most likely be caught and turned Tranquil anyway only with this route he would also be punished for his crimes. Lastly, If you stayed, you would be made tranquil at the hands of the man you loved. There was no winning in this situation, there was never a winning choice for a mage.

You pulled your hand from his grasp, causing a small pained sound to leave his lips, breaking your heart as it did so.

“You have to do it…”

“Y/N no! We talked about this I won-”

“We don’t have any other choice!” You cursed yourself after your outburst, though at this point you weren’t sure you could get into anymore trouble. “If you got caught you would never be able to see Minseo or your parents again!” You had spoken of his family in great detail before, and you couldn’t bear to know that he would never see them again just because of his attachment to you.

You didn’t want to be made Tranquil, but you also didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. This was the only option where at least one of you would be able to keep living freely.

Thinking about the fact that your days were now numbered scared you, the numb feeling from before seemed to linger but you couldn’t find it in yourself to cry. Not now, not when you had to seem like you were certain of your decision. He needed that from you.

So you swallowed your terror and gently cupped his cheeks in your hands.

“You have to do this Mingyu. There isn’t any way of getting out of this. Not that will actually work.” You muttered, voice soft as you kept eye contact with the male. You felt his hands reach up and rest over your own, and took solace in the fact that what the two of you felt was real. At least for a little while longer.

“If it’s you...it’s okay.”

You had never lied to Mingyu before, but...this seemed like a good time to start.

***

The grip on your forearms was sure to form bruises, but at least after this you wouldn’t feel them.

You stared before you as the branding rod held in Mingyu’s tight grip lingered over the open flame, making sure that the metal would be hot enough to etch itself into your skin.

You couldn’t stop the tears that fell from your eyes, and you had sure tried. You knew that seeing you cry could cause Mingyu to hesitate, falter or even flat out refuse the order which would make this all for naught. At that moment, you felt so hopeless. Everything you had worked for, everything you had lived for would be coming to an end. All because of that simple, unassuming brand that your lover held.

At the command of Greagoir, he moved the brand away from the flame and stepped towards you. Reciting the Chant of Light as he did so. It was supposed to bring comfort to the mages and remind them that this was the Maker’s will, you found the words mocking even coming from Mingyu’s lips.

“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” His voice strained as he spoke the Chant of Light, it broke your heart to hear him in such pain. His grip on the haft was so tight that you were almost certain that the metal of the rod would break.

“Foul and corrupt are they who have taken his gift, and turned it against his children.” His armored footsteps echoed against the stone flooring. Tears threatening to spill as he stepped closer to you. You felt the grip on your arms tighten as his fellow templars held you in place.

“Remember, that...that this is a mercy.”

With those last broken words escaping him, he lifted the sunburst brand and held it above your forehead. You saw the heartbreak burning in his eyes, and he hesitated refusing to move the brand any closer to your forehead.

Your eyes met his and watched as he desperately tried to keep his composure. You forced a small pained smile onto your face, and that seemed to be the only thing he needed. Not a second later, the metal pressed against your forehead and sparks of blue lyrium seemed to burst forth as the sunburst brand stripped away every bit of emotion you had to replace you with a husk that could no longer connect to the fade, to magic. A husk with free will but a husk nonetheless.

“I’m sorry.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiarynet #kdiner #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen drabble #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt scenario #svt drabble #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagine #mingyu drabble #mingyu scenario

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mintchocohip · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love, would it be alright if I requested an overstimulation oneshot with Joonie? Thanks a lot

➤ pairing: namjoon x reader | wordcount: 2.5k

➤ kink: light overstimulation, vocal!joonie

➤ notes: is namjoon a sub in this fic? possibly. first-time-together pwp and light fluff!

“Don’t stop,” your gasp hiccups—you can sense that there’s one final pulse filling the hastily rummaged-for condom through Namjoon’s instant, amazed silence—“keep going. Don’t stop.” The man on top of you manages a long, slow, instinctual finishing thrust. “Don’t stop.”

The wait is excruciating.

You slit your eyes open to watch Namjoon’s stupid bliss fade. He’s a silhouette. Night dropped fast. Eyelids shake in the dim light; blue is curving around his face to suggest soft features. His brows lower. Namjoon closes his flushed, parted lips. He’s close enough to pull down into a kiss. You’re too hypnotized by the sparkle on his teeth and the impression that his cheeks must be rosy to try.

Beams of pink and purple sunset colored your neighbor’s apartment doorway a few hard, fast minutes ago. Namjoon realized he was staring at your lips after conversation about his university linguistics courses petered into silence. He snapped his eyes up. You smiled. Namjoon swallowed nervously, but his breath was heavy with intrigue when he started to lean in before quickly glancing up to check your expression. It’s cute that he got so embarrassed when you showed him you want the same thing.

Everything in this bedroom full of succulents and laden bookshelves is glowing with slivers of blue hour that have managed to filter in behind light-blocking curtains. It feels like a dream. You fix a tighter grasp onto the back of Namjoon’s neck and brush some of the damp hair off his slicked forehead.

You aren’t impatient. The hand on the back of his neck is still gripped down firmly. Your legs are wrapped around his hips. You can wait for him to regain his composure.

“Come on, baby,” you try not to exhale it through grit teeth when you wait, and wait, and nothing is happening—“come on. Keep going. Don’t stop. I'm close. Give me more.”

Namjoon’s elbow dropped to the side when he started to gasp. You wanted to savor those beautiful noises. He was so quiet up until that precious moment. Despite your attempts to collect yourself enough to speak and tell him to stay inside convincing yourself that it was better to whisper “come for me, baby. Get loud for me—” was instantaneous as soon as you heard the faintest rasp of a moan.

Luckily, Namjoon isn’t moving. The hand planted on the back of his neck stays firm. Your other hand strokes his temple. You’re curling a devious smile at him and hoping he sees it as his eyes start to open.

“Fuck,” you laugh when an attempt to pet his naked shoulder instantly slicks your hand down onto his bicep, “you sweat a lot.” You pull your knees in to give yourself a cloudy rush of weak-muscled thighs and warmth falling up your body—and to remind Namjoon you’re locked around him.

“Sorry.” Namjoon blinks hard and shakes his head like he just realized where he is. “Yeah. Sorry. If I. Uh. Dripped. On you.” It’s a mild summer night. The A/C in his room is equally tepid.

“I love the sweat. I really love it.”

“Oh.” Namjoon glances down to check out his shimmery chest. “Thanks.” Clarity is spreading over his features. Light shines over his eyes as he searches the darkness.

“Don’t stop. I’m close.”

“Don’t stop?”

“You heard me. I must’ve said it ten times, baby.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow down and he swallows hard like he’s trying to understand what you’re saying.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear. Okay. One second. Just need to. Um.”

“Want to stop?”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt too much for you? Doing it like this? You can use your fingers instead.”

“Um. One second.”

Pressure shifts. A satisfied gasp drops your head back into the mattress.

“Fuck—” The world was already lifted, but as Namjoon lifts himself up and readjusts his position in an awkward shuffle of limbs it rises higher. “Good, baby. Don’t stop,” you claw the nape of his hair when you feel his—shockingly liquid; shockingly skilled—hips angle until thighs press fresh against your ass. “Don’t stop. When I say don’t stop,” short, ragged fingernails dig into the back of Namjoon’s neck as a tepid movement inside of you shivers down to your curling toes, “I mean don’t stop. You were fucking me hard before you came.” A growl in your voice is the side-effect of pleasure. And expectation. “You can fuck me hard after. Can’t you?”

A puff of air hits your cheek. It tickles. You want to laugh; you swallow down the urge. If Namjoon needed to exhale a sound of self-encouragement he has every right to.

“Okay.” Namjoon nods. “Okay.” Springs creak. Namjoon’s breath is rhythmic again, the way it got right before he came—“Shit.” Skin slaps—you suck in a breath and slide your ankles together.

“Thank you,” your senses are teetering back into the blurs of color you were tasting before Namjoon needed a moment, “good.” The last word is a faint whisper. “Perfect.”

Momentum builds slowly. A faintness in your muscles and a warmth under your skin was almost forgotten; despite the little gasp he just sucked in Namjoon is doing an amazing job of bringing it back for you.

“Just like that. Just like that. Why is it so big,” you’re grateful he looked sweet and hot apologizing needlessly about his inability to remember where he put his condoms that it made you ache harder until he was ready and asking if his somewhat unwieldy length was in too deep, “good…” you talk nonsense until you lose the will to say something that isn’t fuck—“...you’re still hard, aren’t you? But, even if you weren’t... big enough to stay inside...”

Your eyes open. Namjoon's whole body just shook. Hard.

Between your own shudder from your chest down to your cunt and a rush of your throaty moans in your ear that sound like a stranger it’s impossible to notice how hoarse and strained Namjoon’s breathing is. You knew you were close, but it feels like he barely had to try.

“Is that you, or me?” You can’t let yourself question whether or not you just heard Namjoon whimper. Focusing on anything but shutting off your brain isn’t important right now. Still, your mouth gasps out freeforming thoughts before you can shoo them away. “Was that you, baby? A whimper... It sounded so pretty...”

The things you say when you’re about to come are always some stream-of-conscious praise festival. Namjoon must be appreciating it, because he’s finding a new angle and pushing harder.

“You’re really hot,” praise sounds vaguely like a threat now that you’re this close and frustrated by a tantalizing glimpse, “really hot. Fuck. Baby, really... Whenever I saw you. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you looked like naked and tied... up... uh...” you’re glad you just got bowled over by a wave of breathtaking heat. Pleasure tugs your senses out of your body and leaves you with visions of sparks to keep you entertained until you can conceptualize how amazing that just felt.

Starry curtains flutter away slowly. Darkness behind your eyes reveals itself. An aftershock tries to double you over but all it can do while you’re flat on your back is freeze up midway through squeezing Namjoon down onto your body. Fluttering motionless, you hold him, and wait.

“That was...” You realize your cunt is sharing some of your body’s resources again because you’re ungripping a handful of Namjoon’s back willingly. Your arms drop and you slide your legs out onto the cool sheets. “Good, baby.” You smile consciously.

A piece of popcorn at the bottom of the bag just popped. Neon orange, and flaring. That’s what it feels like. Namjoon flies off your body and lands with a dry thwip onto the sheets somewhere to your left.

You listen to your laugh fading into a contented sigh. Muffled heat in your ears is clearing away to reveal layers. Namjoon is sucking in slow breaths. Birds have stopped talking outside. Opening your eyes to a black ceiling slashed with grey is a wave of confusion. The blue hour has faded into pure night. You roll your head and glance at the man on the bed next to you. It gives you a broad view of a bedroom that has abandoned shape and the lines of furniture and electronics into a deeper darkness. The headset Namjoon hung on the back of his chair earlier while rummaging through the desk is staring a pinpoint of green light at you.

A part of the soothing darkness. That’s what you feel like. You were sitting up formless and weightless to crawl over Namjoon and give his shoulder a kiss. The journey pauses. An arm just slid out towards you. Fingertips are pressing against your forearm.

“I’m tired,” Namjoon states.

“Oh. Okay. Not in the mood for cuddles?”

“Cuddles?” Namjoon’s shadowed body turns towards where you’re half-laying, half-sitting on the sheets next to him.

Everything smells like sex. Sex, and linen sheets that’ve been broken in by a few months of hot, sweaty nights.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No. Uh... oh. Sorry. I thought maybe... you wanted to play with my cock or something."

“What,” you groan, “do you think I’m a succubus? We fucked. It was good. I really like you... I’m not going to ask for more than that, baby.” You add an addendum. “Unless you’re a naughty boy. Who needs to get punished.”

“Are... you being serious right now?”

“I...”

You stop.

It’s a bracing moment. You roll what you want to say around in your head. You don’t want Namjoon to get the wrong idea about how you feel.

This man wandered into the apartment complex in the springtime and instantly lit up the dreary hallways with his pretty face. You were intrigued. Giving him pointers about how frequently the landlady pops in unannounced, the old lady on the second floor who’ll bake special brownies for friends who sit with her and talk about vintage cars, and where to find good dry cleaning in the area was all it took for him to cling to you.

Sussing if Namjoon’s kinky is important to you. He gives you vibes, sometimes. Kinky vibes. You’re used to people checking out your thighs. Namjoon looks nervous when he glances at your legs. Not like he’s scared—more like he can’t let himself think too hard about what they could do to him.

“I’m joking.” It’s the best you can manage.

“You said... you like me?”

You blink hard. And, you give Namjoon a sudden, keen smile.

“Oh. I wasn’t joking about that. I like you a lot.”

Excitation begs you to move and keep yourself busy. You sit up and lean over Namjoon’s body to delicately stroke down the ring of the condom. Namjoon gasps as your fingers brush over the swollen tip of his cock on the downwards journey to free him.

“I really like you, too.”

“Now I want to punish you for making my heart flutter. But... damn.” Reflected light shimmers wet as you tie the condom off in the air above your tits. “You come a lot. Wow.” Before it gets tossed it into shadows welling around the bed you take a moment to squish the condom’s loaded tip between your fingers.

Namjoon sighs hard.

“Sorry,” you laugh.

“I might have come twice. It happens sometimes.”

“Impressive.”

“Nah. It’s just natural for me.”

“Do you think the Amazon rainforest isn’t impressive? Or Niagara falls? Those things are natural, but they’re still impressive.”

Sliding your thumb over his hip bone, you gaze at Namjoon’s exhaustion while he pulls a hand up through his hair. Damp from his forehead streaks up the roots and into the mess of wisps.

“It really is just a joke,” you sigh. “The punishment stuff... I kind of wanted to know if you’re into stuff like that, you know. See how you’d respond. Don’t take it seriously. I really do like you.”

“No. It’s fine.” The sweetness in his hushed voice muffles every word. You’ve never heard Namjoon speak this softly. Even if you’re straining to understand him, you aren’t complaining. “If… you’re bored.”

“Bored?”

“You can...”

“Use your words, Namjoon.”

You can’t see it clearly, but you have a feeling Namjoon is shooting a mild glare in your direction.

“What do I want to say,” Namjoon wonders aloud with an exhale of sarcasm. He pets the mattress with his fingertips and rolls his head to the side. Transitioning into sincerity gives his voice a shy twinge. “So. You. Like stuff like that? Making it hurt a little bit?”

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Oh...” Namjoon swallows hard. Your eyes have adjusted to the light enough to see his dreamy expression break. “No. I forgot.”

“Let’s order takeout.”

“Oh.” Softness in Namjoon’s relaxing shoulders looks a little bit like disappointment. “Sure.”

“We’ll talk about this thing...” You were swimming circles around the urge. Getting sucked into it is a lovely feeling. It’s a weightless movement; he’s warm; not hot, not yet—you slide Namjoon into your hands and give the underhead of his cock a drag with your thumbnail. “...Later.”

The choke is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

Excitement and intrigue surge through your stomach and into your thighs and clear up the air around your head like Namjoon’s tiny, weak hitch of breath was bubbly refreshment. You did hear snippets of something lovely, earlier. Time was a flash. But, not all of your perceptions are fucking with you tonight.

Visions are swirling through your mind. For a moment, curiosities and desires leave you breathless.

You only realize what you’re doing when Namjoon’s whole body pulls in. As he makes the movements of sitting up he laughs nervously and twitches a hand down his flat stomach.

You follow the movement. You stare at where he’s attempting to touch your wrist. At some point, you started stroking Namjoon’s damp slit with your thumb. Out of boredom; out of nature.

“Takeout. Right.” Licking your lips quickly reminds you where you are. Forcibly spreading your fingers out to let go is a monumental effort to not get distracted into spending the whole night discovering what you need to do to pull beautiful moans out of this beautiful man. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Namjoon is talking slightly too loud. He sits up, reaches for a pillow to wrap his elbow around awkwardly, and attempts a casual sigh. “I know how to say that it’s too much. Like, putting my hand down, I guess. I just want you to know that I like it."

“Good,” you whisper fondly. “Good to know.”

Moments shared with Namjoon always pass quickly. Catching up with each other in the apartment lobby between weekend errands is a breeze. Talking about music, the news, the stress of his school life, and your latest kickboxing match while flirting idly when you catch each other in the convenience store during late-night grocery runs is free from any stuffy ideas of obligation to small-talk with a neighbor. It just feels natural, and right. You’ve been wanting more for a while now. Maybe you were so eager to spend time with him a summer sunset passed instantaneously.

“I know a kebab place that’ll blow your mind. Let me order real quick.” You pet Namjoon’s ankle before sitting up to slide off the bed and fish your phone out of the crumpled ball of fabric that once resembled your sweatpants. “Veggies and meat, veggies and meat... Yeah, you seem good at... telling me when. Let’s talk about this more. It’s good to know, baby. Thanks for telling me,” you ramble mindlessly. “Good to know you can take it. So. Yeah. Until you say when... I won’t stop.”

#ask #anonymous #sub!namjoon #domme!reader #namjoon x reader #mch #fic #namjoon solo

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