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hanibalistic · 1 day ago

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COMMENCE! THE VAMPIRE TRIALS! | YANG JUNGWON.

genre | vampire au/supernatural au, platonic relationship, found family au, (side) romance, hurt/comfort, (jic) dead dove: do not eat

synopsis | the clock struck twelve on yang jungwon’s eighteenth birthday, right after his transition to a vampire and his first killing. stuck without a home to return to, jungwon was confronted with a much bigger problem: a murder trial, where he is at risk of being tried as a supernatural adult for an unintentional crime.

word count | 19.7k+

warning | blood, violence, mentions of death / killing / trauma / parental abuse / bullying

note | white truffle fries are so good!

“Hello. I am calling from Bloodline Recovery Center regarding Yang Jungwon’s absence today.”

Jungwon winced at the mention of his name. You did not take notice of his discomfort as you formally chatted away with who he assumed to be one of the office clerks from school. Shifting in his seat, which was just broken enough that he could hear a crack of pressure under him when he did so, he fiddled with his fingers. He decided to pay his attention elsewhere in your office.

The memory of a significant, recent tragedy was disgustingly vivid. There have been a lot of unfortunate truths in his life that he often found himself wishing to forget, but out of all of them, what happened the previous night was the worst he has ever been through because he caused it. It was all his doing and fault, albeit he was only somewhat conscious throughout the ordeal.

He picked at his skin, then he picked under his nails, where the clicking sound quickly traveled into his ears. He wasn't supposed to be able to hear mundane noises clearly, and the fact that he could bother him. It deterred him from fidgeting.

Half an hour ago, he was instructed to shower at the rehabilitation center to rinse himself of his crime, which he did. He spent an awfully long time under the steaming water, something he could have never done back home because of the racking up of water bills.

His eyes had been wide, and his mind scrambled with no capability for thought. Even though he made sure he watched the blood ooze away from his skin and down the drain, the lingering feeling of its dryness remained in his consciousness.

After the shower, he was guided by a security guard to the cafeteria, where he was free to order breakfast. The idea of consuming food was disdainful. Besides that, he was packed from the blood of two grown adults. His vampirism wasn’t hungry, so neither was he.

Everyone in the cafeteria left him alone. The security guard left when he was introduced to the door, and the cooks minded their business behind the buffet counters. Nobody was in the cafeteria because lunch hour hadn’t arrived yet.

But Jungwon assumed people wanted to give him space to regain his composure. Or nobody could be bothered to check up on him, or everyone had already heard of his story and made the cautious decision not to associate with him. Whatever it was, he was glad he got time to himself.

Eventually, he caved into normalcy and got a carton of banana milk. The mere taste of it made him giddy—it was a simple taste of joy, laced with good memories within a wash of bitterness.

The drink's sweetness shot through him like a bullet, and he held onto it with his bare hands, desperately wanting to feel just a tiny lick of a childish grin after hours of straight torment.

When he finished his drink, he was ushered somewhere else. Someone may be observing him, he thought. Someone had been waiting for him to finish his food so they could take him elsewhere. But he should have noticed it if that was the case.

Vampirism came with those superhuman perks; it would suck if he got singled out and didn’t have them.

It wasn’t a long walk from the cafeteria to your office. Or, at least, it was a tiny room decorated to look like an office. There was a laptop on a small table, one wired phone you were using, a corkboard on the wall with papers and polaroids pinned on the surface, and a whiteboard with a few ugly cartoon animals drawn on.

The setting did not feel permanent or formal to him. Jungwon could not care less about that, though. He was concerned about what he was sent here to do.

“Hello. I am calling from Bloodline Recovery Center regarding Yang Jungwon’s absence today.”

The Bloodline Recovery Center—the name echoed in his head and did not ring familiar bells. All he knew was that it was a rehabilitation facility exclusively for vampires.

The facility was part of a much bigger medical institution that owned and oversaw different clinics (each made especially for different supernaturals) spread across the country. Other than that, he knew nothing about it and never thought he would have to.

Just yesterday, as a human boy, he never deemed it necessary to indulge in supernatural issues. He did not care about their politics; he sympathized with their struggles but made no attempt to advocate for them. He did not actively yearn to communicate and interact with them; he had made no supernatural friends and had never met one.

Despite the blending and coexistence of humans and supernaturals, as a boy who has never been in the presence of non-humans, Jungwon believed he was not obligated to care.

Then, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, he became a vampire.

“Thank you, I will make a note of that and schedule a meeting soon,” you said before ending the call.

Jungwon eyed you carefully as you slotted the phone back in its place, his chest dreading the end of your phone call with the school office, thus ending his personal time.

Looking at the table, you scribbled on the memo pad before you. Even though his vision returned to perfection, how you positioned yourself made it impossible to glimpse what you were writing. You did it on purpose; this wasn’t your first rodeo.

When you were done, you put your pencil down and pushed it to the side before turning to face him. You met eyes with him immediately, and his timid jump indicated that he had been staring at you for a while. You supposed he would. Hypervigilance tends to be a trait that newly turned vampires acquire, especially those turned without consent.

Jungwon hasn’t spoken to you about his transition, but the police gave you a brief overview: he was returning home from cram school and got attacked by a vampire a few blocks down the bus stop. The boy saved the brutal details; he couldn’t remember most of it, and all his injuries had been healed.

Besides his turning, he was also accused of a heinous crime, which brought upon him paranoia and guilt. Hypervigilance would be on the table for a while.

You sized him, a neutral smile tugging at your lips. He looked younger than his age, which he would find troublesome hundreds of years later.

It came as a surprise to you when you saw that he turned eighteen today. His small, heart-shaped face predisposed him to look more youthful and adorable, but his almond eyes held a gaze intense enough that he may not be watered down to just being a cute, harmless boy.

You accessed him with less caution than he was doing you, and you did not expect any less. Intimidation flared from his naturally sharp, cat-like eyes where millions of thoughts traveled. It was something he could not help with. His eyes exuded intentions that he could prevent from showing.

Still, more than menace, anxiety rushed up his lungs at this mere second.

He noticed his awareness of his surroundings, people’s motives, and himself as a living creature. What he did, in his opinion, could not be paralleled. Not that his thoughts should matter at this pathetic, low point in his life.

But still, Jungwon could not rid himself of the guilt-ridden anxiety fumbling through his throat whenever his mind made clear of his crime.

You maintained a professional expression and wondered if he would look different if he wasn't entranced with today's bloodbath. Maybe his would look softer. Maybe his heart would be softer.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he managed to itch the word crumbs from his throat, and it wasn’t odd that this came before a self-introduction. “I didn’t kill them on purpose.”

On the very night of his eighteenth birthday, he became a vampire.

Then, what followed was what always followed: Yang Jungwon murdered his parents.

He was thrown into a fit of rage and starvation before the completion of the transition. The rage came from his parents’ normalized abusive attitude, and it was amplified by his heightened vampiric emotions.

The hunger came from being a vampire in transition. In retrospect, beneath the uncontrollable fit, there was a chaotic yearning for an explanation for the poor treatment his parents provided him, as well as a bloody revenge for the miserable life he’d lived.

Jungwon remembered everything; his memories were disgustingly vivid. It was his eighteenth birthday, his official first step into adulthood. Having never held any hope for his father's generosity, the child in him thought at least his mother would throw a celebration, however small it would be.

Ultimately, he got nothing but a beer bottle haphazardly thrown past his head for returning home at the night's break.

What his father had not known was that he had just been killed. Grabbed, struggled, killed, revived, and turned.

Jungwon wondered if it was fate's idea that he would kill his parents. For his entire walk back home, he did not stumble upon even a shadow of a human being. There was not a smell, a sound, or a presence.

The first people he saw after he came back alive, ready for blood consumption, were his mom and dad. Mom, who screamed in horror at the sight of his face, and dad, who was violently angry at him as always.

Everything hurt, he recalled. The fangs forcefully grew at his gums, his eyes turned bloodshot, and black veins popped near them, and his senses overwhelmed his brain and his body.

He remembered his parent’s nails digging into his skin as they cried and cursed at him: a terrible child, a disastrous child! A foul child, a dangerous child! Love has never surrounded you, and it never will after this! Mark my words and watch your back, Yang Jungwon!

At last, he sat in a pool of blood, and it was his father’s lifeless hand that he held and apologized to. The same hand that left his skin claw marks on a daily was the hand he needed to be torn away from.

He was confused and afraid. Jungwon knew he wasn't a violent person, nor was he a violent son. He knew he had the genes to become one, so he did everything he could to prevent that.

Despite all the years of not standing up to his parents and isolating himself from his peers, he did not allow one chance to be aggressive toward others.

Everything he did that night was out of character. His moral compass was spinning so fast that it severely burnt his self-esteem. This incident justified the mindset that he deserved nothing good in life.

But, still, he did not mean it. He did not mean to kill his parents, and he needed you to know the truth.

You raised your brows half-heartedly at his confession. If you had an opinion on his statement, you did not give it away. Your voice was light when you spoke, but it was not comforting for him to hear.

“I believe you." You shifted on your seat. “Vampires rarely make their first kill on purpose.”

His pursed lips tugged downward into a frown. The dejected expression confused you. You meant what you said and assumed it was what he wanted to hear. These confessions were often made in a desperate attempt to be believed so you didn't think you said anything wrong.

The sullen look on his face blatantly told you otherwise, though, and you wondered what he was thinking about.

Scratching his eyelid, Jungwon breathed a silent exhale and figured he may be asking a stranger for too much emotional understanding.

It wasn't your trust that he wanted to gain or his innocence he tried to prove. This was not about him killing his parents because even he understood the uncontrollability of that particular tragedy. His thoughts dated back to when he was still in his early adolescence, back when the torment from his parents started.

He was often left breathless, wondering if the lack of parental love he received was expected, hoping that if he gave enough, he would regain it.

Jungwon spent his entire life caring for his mom and his whole youth forgiving his dad. He somehow managed to grow attached to those obligations and feelings.

This was never about killing his parents, nor was it about his guilt and innocence. This was about love.

This was about Jungwon not wanting to kill his parents. This was about the knowledge that, deep in his heart, a massive part of him held grounded affection for them despite all the wrongs they'd done to him. This was about convincing himself that he loved his family even in deep-seething rage and everlasting pain.

How could he possibly say that when it was his fangs that sunk into their neck?

Perhaps that was all it was. Jungwon needed to convince himself that he did not kill his parents on purpose. He needed his painful forgiveness and his familial devotion to not be a waste.

Sensing the tense air in the room, you ignored it and proceeded with your job. You leaned forward, your fingers laced together to sit on top of the papers where information about Jungwon's case was freshly printed, and then you smiled softly at him.

“Hey,” you called, “Jungwon.”

He listened, his eyes sharp but round upon your call for attention.

“I don’t think you killed your mom and dad on purpose,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “I really don’t think so.”

“I didn’t.” He bit the inside of his lower lip. “What am I going to do now?”

"That's what you're here for," you said after sighing. Fixing the papers on your desk, you turned them around so they could easily be read. "My name is [Name]. You can feel free to call me by that. I will be your counselor here at the recovery center, which means I overlook your rehabilitation progress."

You pushed the papers toward him. "Here is all the basic information administration pulled from the government database. It is the protocol that I match your verbal introduction with what is written on paper, so please briefly introduce yourself to me.”

Jungwon clicked his nails together as he relaxed at the new conversation. Your eyes were windows he couldn’t look into; you kept a professional front, but he thought you were compassionate when you told him you believed he didn’t kill with intention. Almost too compassionate. He was afraid to acknowledge it in case he would overreact to kindness.

Looking down, he stared at the papers you pushed toward him.

“My name is Yang Jungwon. I am eighteen years old. I go to Seoulen High School and am supposedly preparing for college…” His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing in thoughts before his brain suddenly jolted in the realization of something important. He looked up at you—your eyes for a moment, then up at your forehead—to ask urgently,

“I have school today! I get to go back to class, right?”

You grimaced. “We can try to discuss it with the school, but it is highly unlikely. It’s not just about you but the safety of your peers.”

“I already said I didn’t do it on purpose,” he argued, leaning forward as his right leg bounced anxiously. “My head is clear now. I can control myself! I need to go back to school! I gotta graduate and go to college–“ his bouncy eyes landed on you abruptly–“Will colleges even accept me with a criminal record? It’d be discrimination if they don’t, wouldn’t it?”

You swallowed a knot down your throat, unsure of how you could shed light on the current judicial that heavily biases humans.

Even more surprising was that he didn’t know. There have been ample voices speaking up about it on social media, and most teenagers you’ve met were avid users.

Deciding to leave this unsettling truth for another time or to hand the responsibility to someone else, you hummed with a furrow of your brows. You asked, “Shouldn’t you have gotten acceptance letters by now?”

The question occupied him as he immediately abandoned the previous question. He shook his head sheepishly, shrinking into his chair as if embarrassed.

His steps to graduating and going to college were heavily messed up due to his poor home environment and the lack of help from school counselors. He had nobody to talk to about where he wanted to go, what he wanted to study, and if he should apply for a scholarship or settle with a community college.

Despite the lack of support, he was excited about graduating. Not only could he be out of the hellhole that was high school, but college schedules were also more flexible, which meant he could finally get a job. He anticipated earning money on his own and spending it on what he loved.

Eventually, he may even be able to move out. He could bring his mother with him; even though she drank and feared her husband, he was still a boy who got tucked into bed secretly with a kiss on the forehead.

“I haven’t applied to any school yet,” he muttered.

“Jungwon, it’s March. The application cycle closed last month,” you said after holding back a concerned gasp, but your eyes widened in surprise.

It has been a while since you first applied to university. Still, in your head, you remembered the process was rigorous and quick. Your parents and teachers emphasized timing each step carefully: figure out your study schedule for the entrance exam, ask your teachers for recommendations months in advance, find time to attend workshops to edit your college essays, and most importantly, do not miss the deadline!

“The regular application cycle ended last month,” he noted. “I can apply for late admission.”

“Late admission closes late March to early April, and they are typically rolling admissions,” you exclaimed lightly, shifting your weight at the sudden unease he brought you.

Things may become more hectic and rushed than you thought they would be. “You have to juggle between doing rehabilitation and applying to universities on a first-come, first-serve basis within two months.”

"Two months is more than enough time. I am very diligent!" he retorted defensively upon your incredulousness. He knew he was late but did not want to be accused. "I already have my essay and transcript ready. I just have to retake the entrance exam and find two teachers to write my recommendation letters!"

“Why didn’t you send in the scores you already have?” you questioned, shaking your head in confusion.

“They are not good enough!” he gritted out in disappointment, then he lost his tense shoulders and slumped against the back of the chair. His darting eyes traveled between the walls and the desk, and his hands rubbed nervously together. “I–I need… I need better scores.”

The first testing period had come at the worst time possible. He was well-prepared. He studied at least five hours a day, paid attention in classes, attended after-school lessons, and spent his little pocket money to buy mock exams so he could practice.

But the testing period came just when his home life got a tad more stressful—it was one pile of garbage on top of another, soiling the weight on his back without care, as if he knew how to handle everything.

It had felt like a hoax when he got his test results back. All the time, money, and worry spent on the entrance exam went down the drain because of a simple number that wouldn’t mean anything years later.

He had been so anxious about his future; he needed to attend college, get a degree, and leave home. None of those could be accomplished with those terrible scores of his.

Although, now that his parents were dead, Jungwon wasn’t sure if those goals were as firm as they used to be. He had nowhere to leave and nobody to avoid anymore.

The life purpose that once motivated his every effort was gone because of this massive shortcut, which brought him somewhere foreign rather than the paradise he dreamt of.

You took notice of the redness that rushed to the veins near his eyes when he spoke, which faded too quickly for Jungwon to notice that they were there at all. It wasn't new to you.

You have seen vampires act out before. You have been the target of an outburst before, and it was only thanks to your good vampire friend that you got out of it alive.

Jungwon has no ill intentions, you believed. The way he shrunk his body in unknown grief and how he went as far as to make a point to tell you he disagreed with everything he has done as a newly-turned vampire told you that.

Still, your heart pounded each time you saw those bloodied veins. You would always be afraid of the potential outcome of a vampire’s outburst.

Keeping the fear behind your lips, you sighed gently and looked at him apologetically. You were unsure if the smile was to comfort you or him.

Being in charge of vampires during their rehabilitation was no strange task to you. Still, this case differed from what you had been doing for your internship: this one involved a court case.

On top of that, you may have to personally make sure Jungwon’s college application process goes smoothly despite the rehabilitation programs he has to attend, as well as the murder trial that would define his future.

“Well, my job is to fit everything in your schedule, so that is what I will try to do,” you said as you gathered the papers from the desk and knocked them together by their sides.

You moved them away before reaching below your desk to pull more documents from the open drawer. “I assume you already know why you are here, so I will explain what you will do and what kind of service the Bloodline Recovery Center will provide you from now on.”

The Bloodline Recovery Center was a rehabilitation center made explicitly for vampires. Clients could either voluntarily seek out aid from the center, or they would be referred here by an outside source, such as the police station, schools, or workplaces.

Most of the time, when a vampire was referred to the center by a government institution, the rehabilitation program was a necessary process, and the case would not be closed until they met the rehabilitation goal.

“Since you are a newly turned vampire, your program will be catered towards helping you gain control over your vampirism and get accustomed to living in your new body,” you said as you flipped over a few papers on your table and pushed it toward Jungwon.

You grabbed a pencil and began pointing at the information printed on top, giving him a visual representation of what you were talking about.

“You will get periodic medical check-ups and weekly vampire training. I am not sure about the requirement for therapy.” You rolled your eyes up to think, and then you huffed silently. “I will ask about that again, but I highly recommend it.”

“Why do I need a medical check-up,” Jungwon said slowly as he scanned the paper. “I thought vampires don’t get sick.”

“The doctor might be able to speak more on that for you,” you replied. “From what I have seen, I think they do check-ups so they can have records of your assessment. It is the same as our yearly physical check-ups but for supernaturals.”

You kept the paper in front of Jungwon when you suddenly pulled back. He was barely paying attention to the words, only looking at them for the sake of having something to do. He remained fidgety until now and may stay so for a while. He looked up at you upon your shift in position and slightly pulled back, waiting for the big news that seemed to be locked behind your eyes.

“Jungwon,” you called, sympathy laced in your tone. “You know what you did, don’t you?”

He gulped nervously and nodded after a prolonged moment. “Yes, but I–“ he sucked in a harsh breath–“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” you said, offering him a kind smile. “But the court is only going to take that into consideration when they put you on trial for the murder of your parents.”

“A trial?” he repeated in a whisper so he could make sense of your words.

That should be a no-brainer. If this happened to somebody else, he would have agreed that the vampire should be put on trial for murder. The law should not bend just because it was pitiful that he fell victim to its accusation. It never did to anyone else. Still, this was an unlikable situation. He wanted to run away from it and begin somewhere else.

Jungwon pursed his lips with furrowed brows when he felt a peak of sharpness at his gums. His vision was blurred with a darkened filter as if blood had taken over his vision in a quick second. He noticed the change in your expression and appreciated that you looked more surprised than afraid.

He tried to will his trembling hands to calm and his shaking legs to stop, but the unreasonable irritation in his chest remained upon what you told him.

“Am I going to jail?” he asked.

“Not necessarily. We are working on it.” You shook your head and scooted your chair forward. “Your circumstance is more peculiar than the usual case.”

“How so?” His voice was meek.

“When people are put on trial for their crimes, they are either being tried as an adult or a minor. For vampires and their transition murder, adults tend to get sentenced to serve jail time regardless of the uncontrollable nature of a transition. Minors, on the other hand, receive no jail time under the Juvenile Act, but it is required that they complete assignments given by the judge.”

“We are trying to get the judge to try you as a minor even though you are eighteen now.”

According to Jungwon’s testimony, which he gave shortly after arriving at the police station, and a brief deduction provided by the investigator the previous night, the current assumption was that his parents’ death happened just a little before the clock struck twelve on his eighteenth birthday.

The murder occurred when he was seventeen, and he was arrested when he was eighteen. There were only a few minutes between the incidents. Keeping his best interest in mind, the greatest outcome would be that he be tried as a minor, receiving a fair sentence for the crime.

As fair of a sentence for killing your parents could be, at least.

“Our legal department has already assigned a team to represent you in court,” you informed. “One of the lawyers on your team–you might get a chance to meet him later, but he is getting more information about the hearing now so the team can advise us on what we must do to appeal you to the judge.”

Jungwon nodded. He understood what you said. The only reason why he felt conflicted was that he did not want to be put in a situation like this in the first place.

The idea of a prison haunted him, not only because it would further tarnish the moral reputation he has of himself but because he knew vampire sentencing extended beyond that of a hundred years. He has yet to gain the whole experience of immortality, and time is still familiar.

If he had to serve jail time for a hundred years and beyond, he would go insane.

He should listen to you. He could do that. He listened well to adults. He was taught to do so ever since he learned to think independently.

"Well, with that out of the way, we got work to do," you finished cheerfully as you pushed yourself off the chair. Gathering up the papers on your desk, you stuffed them in your tote bag and adjusted the strap on your shoulder. You looked at Jungwon, welcoming eyes adverting from him to the door. "We are going to get you checked up first."

Jungwon stood up with a slight stumble. He absentmindedly pushed his chair toward the desk, desiring to return things to their original position. At the same time, he kept his curious eyes on you.

He blinked in surprise when you huffed a short laugh upon him stepping next to you, your head arching lightly to meet his gaze. He involuntarily ducked when you reached your hand up to his head to measure his height, and he felt that the blood around his face faded finally.

“You’re taller than you look. We’re almost the same height!” you laughed to yourself. “You grew up well.”

Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket, along with the response to your words he could not think of. The sudden burst of positivity was unexpected and out of place. He did not grow well. Look at the situation he got himself in!

However, the praise was not unwelcomed. He was not accustomed to compliments, if he could call that one. His parents never praised him, he was not outstanding enough for his teachers to acknowledge his presence, his friends were mostly temporary, and he always hid too much for strangers to notice.

The best compliment he had ever gotten was from the old lady who tended to a small, homey candy store down the street where he lived. Jungwon frequented that store for a while because he was always eager to visit her. Additionally, he was fond of an ice cream brand that other convenience stores had stopped selling.

She always joked about him growing up and eventually working part-time at her store. She would scold him for shooting so low when he wholeheartedly agreed.

In retrospect, it was never a direct compliment, but Jungwon remembered how the old lady told him to believe in himself and aim for more. Stay away from working in a lousy candy shop, she would say. You can do better things!

He was heartbroken when she passed away. The candy store was replaced, and he never bothered to see what occupied the location now. He thought if he didn't see it, his heart would believe that the store was still there.

Jungwon followed you closely as you left the office, trailing behind you with his head hung low and eyes on the ground. He ignored the people he brushed past, only perking up when he heard you greet other staff that passed you by, unknowingly glaring at all of them in the process.

Only when you called his name did his gaze soften, keeping his body still with his focus on you.

You beckoned him to follow closely, and instead of moving ahead, you waited for him to close the distance between you both. It was a small gesture. You probably didn't notice it, but he appreciated your patience. He kept his head high, wanting to make sure he would stay caught up. The walk was quiet, and he thought to himself that for now, at least, he trusted you.

The recovery center was much bigger than Jungwon anticipated. It took a long trip before you two arrived at the medical wing of the building.

The decoration differed from the rehabilitation wing—the placings of furniture were different, the color schemes were brighter and clearer (more white and less of an eerie, dull blue), and it smelt of sterilization.

Jungwon stayed behind when you talked with the receptionist, shifting his weight awkwardly between his legs and letting his body flail about as he waited for you to finish the conversation.

When you were done, you beckoned him to follow you through a double door into a long hallway that separated into longer corridors.

“Your doctor is Park Sunghoon,” you told him with a faint roll of your eyes.

You have worked with Sunghoon since your internship at the Bloodline Recovery Center. You two started on the wrong foot, mainly because you despised insensitive people.

In contrast, Sunghoon, being callous, did not care about the grudge you held against him. Many coincidences put you both in the same case. Along with the help of mutual friends, it brought you closer together.

Despite the emotional nature of his job, you have come to find that insensitivity has its perks.

Sunghoon was, ironically, more perceptive than others and ever so understanding of reactions. He was also less prone to be influenced by prejudice and emotional ideals because he held no particular opinion about anyone other than how beneficial they could be.

He may say and do according to how much havoc he could wreck upon the Earth, but when push comes to shove, his ability to make intelligent decisions was reliable.

Most importantly, he wasn’t a bad person. Sunghoon cared enough to a certain extent. He would not have chosen to be a doctor if his heart only wanted wealth. The road to excellence in the medical field was too much commitment for mere greed.

“Don’t worry, he is not friendly, but he is nice, and he’s smart,” you said. “He is already completing his doctorate program, and he’s younger than me.”

“How old is he?” Jungwon asked nonchalantly.

“Nineteen,” your gaze sharpened humorously, “he started university at fifteen.”

“So he’s one of those geniuses who skipped school?” Jungwon said, still not entirely intrigued out of jealousy that someone within his age range has accomplished so much already, but he wanted to make an effort to continue the conversation.

“Never shuts up about it.”

Talking about someone younger and more successful than you was the bane of your existence, especially when Sunghoon made light-hearted jokes about your intellectual differences. He only did it to a moderate amount, but you liked to exaggerate his self-centredness to everyone else as a playful attempt to ruin his reputation.

Jungwon did not react to what you said, and you supposed he had more in his mind than some doctor he had never met before.

Turning a corner, you stopped before the first door and knocked on it. You opened it just as permission was given, and immediately, you saw a deadpan glare thrown your way from behind a computer screen. Sunghoon briefly glanced behind you and raised a brow at Jungwon’s displeased expression.

“So we meet again.” Sunghoon stood up, a charming smile blossoming when he returned his attention to you. You knew it was fake. “I thought I mentioned not to make a habit of seeing me.”

“And I recall mentioning how you shouldn’t make a habit of talking,” you bantered as you swatted away his attempt to ruffle your hair, something he has made a habit of doing because of his taller frame.

A humorous smile remained on your face for a dear friend as you drew the paperwork from your bag and handed it to him for evaluation. “You are much more attractive when you don’t speak.”

“One point for me because you find me attractive,” Sunghoon chuckled with a light snap of his fingers, then he nudged you playfully with his shoulder. “Minus one point for Heeseung, also because you find me attractive.”

Jungwon blinked as his eyes ping-ponged between you two. The unfamiliar name bounced off his ears in alert, causing his heart to race at the possibility of meeting another stranger when he hadn't even gotten used to you yet.

The one thing keeping his anxiety at bay was the fun of piecing two and two together. Dr. Park implied that whoever this Heeseung person was, they had a thing for you.

Jungwon eyed you up and down once, accessing your features and attire lazily before he shrugged to himself. He wondered why.

“Nothing is going on between us,” you muttered dismissively as you slapped the papers at Sunghoon’s chest. “This is Jungwon. We need a brief check-up of him. You don’t have to give me the full details. I just need something to provide Jake with later–“

“You probably won’t hear from Jake today,” Sunghoon scoffed as he scanned the paperwork. His eyes shifted carefully across the papers, absorbing the information and daring himself not to give Jungwon an apologetic glance. “He was racing a kid down in the medical wing and got caught pushing over some supply shelves. They were playing hide and seek, he said.”

“Oh, so he’s stuck in friendly isolation.” You grimaced.

There was no isolation room in the rehabilitation center. When vampires go out of control, they are to be escorted out of the premises to the courtyard behind the building, which does not belong to the corporation but has been off-limits for so long that no one ever goes there.

The purpose of sending them outdoors was so they could release themselves freely or calm themselves down.

As for the friendly isolation room, it was just an empty room in the rehabilitation wing, and its only occupant was Jake.

The last time you heard of it was months ago. It was miraculous that Jake avoided getting into trouble for so long. Until today, you were baffled about the board's toleration of his unintentionally destructive behavior, but you understood.

Jake was an excellent mentor to new vampires, the kind you could not find elsewhere, and all the board had to do was pick him off the street and promise him a lifetime of meaningful social interactions.

“Third time this week,” Sunghoon added with an exhausted sigh.

“Third time?” you exclaimed in shock. You have not heard of the first two times he was sent to an empty room.

"Yes." After reading the paperwork, Sunghoon promptly returned it to you with a smirk. "Thank you. I am assuming I need to send a full report to Heeseung?"

“Yeah, thanks,” you returned with a scratch near your ear.

“Not a problem,” Sunghoon mused when he turned his back to grab a new pair of gloves from the supply box he had neatly placed on his desk. “You can take a seat on the bed, Jungwon.”

Jungwon received your encouraging smile with an embarrassed frown, and he audibly scoffed when you pointed at the bed for him as if he couldn’t find it himself.

Keeping his hands in his hoodie pocket, he made a small hop and landed harshly on the bed, the back of his shoes hitting against the cabinets attached beneath it. His heart dropped when he watched you wait by him patiently, not at all angered by his sudden change of attitude.

“Since you did your last health check-up with your school recently, I am not going to prolong your stay here and get your height and whatnot.” Sunghoon’s tone of choice changed from a professional low (something Jungwon assumed he used to keep some form of secrecy between him and you) to a higher, more relaxed tone. “But do know your appearance will never change from now on. You won’t be gaining weight, you can’t work out for muscles, and you’re not going to get any taller than this.”

“Basically, I am gonna be stuck looking like a kid forever,” Jungwon mumbled bitterly. “Go me! I can’t wait to see where that takes my romantic life five hundred years later.”

“With that attitude? I’m guessing absolutely nowhere,” Sunghoon joked.

You clicked your tongue at his discouraging tone but didn’t say anything you wouldn’t know of.

“I am going to run some tests to evaluate your vampirism, and I will need your cooperation. Is that alright?”

“If I say no, I go to jail,” Jungwon replied grimly.

"Fantastic! You know your weight on the scale of justice." Sunghoon smiled sardonically when he approached the bed. His heart giggled when he acknowledged the younger boy's dismay at his comment. "I can safely assume you do not have any injuries or illnesses now?"

Jungwon shook his head, not giving a second to double-check. He knew his body better than others because of how much he had to look after it. Constantly checking for bruises, wounds, cracks beneath his hair, irregular pains against his skin, and so on has made him hyperaware of his body. He knew that all the pains went away as soon as he turned and that his conscience was the only thing left aching.

“Nothing. I used to have poor eyesight, but I can see everything perfectly now,” he said.

“That’s expected,” Sunghoon hummed in content. “I’m assuming your bad eyesight came from means other than genes?”

“Well, yeah.” Jungwon shrugged. “What gives?”

“Oh, you should tell him a little about vampirism now that you’re at it,” you chimed in from the side. “He was asking questions just then.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jungwon furrowed his brows as he quickly turned toward you. He shook his head at you, his ears slightly reddened with embarrassment. He questioned what Sunghoon said about vampiric abilities, but having to voice his concern was a nightmare, so he settled with silence. It was not good to him that you asked on his behalf. “I didn’t ask anything.”

Sunghoon pulled a face when he met eyes with you. Then he whistled lowly. “Someone is going through a phase.”

“You would know,” Jungwon scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

You shot Sunghoon a glare in advance, just before his brain could remember everything he had read about Jungwon in the paperwork you gave him and fish out the worst detail it could to fire back as an insult.

Sunghoon held his hands up in mock surrender, but the rare sincerity in his smile was diminishing by the second with Jungwon’s attitude.

“I am gonna leave the vampire education up to the fossils at the training ward,” he said. “Back to business! Can you show me your fangs?”

Jungwon looked dubious. Shifting his eyes to the side, almost giving a stink-eye, Sunghoon clapped his hands and explained, “Vampires have evolved since centuries ago, and they have distinguishable fang shapes. We keep them in records just in case they can be useful.”

That made way too much sense for Jungwon’s liking, but he kept his opinions hushed. Pursing his lips together, he rubbed his hands and slightly parted his lips. He let out a short, low noise from his throat, unsure of where he should start with getting his fangs out.

The previous times when he had them out, they were all involuntary. Was he supposed to bring his vampirism to life? Should he think about what he would look like and go from there? Or could it be an emotional and uncontrollable thing?

“I… I don’t know how to get them out,” Jungwon muttered after a moment of his failed attempt.

Moving away from the bed after a nonverbal acknowledgment, Sunghoon walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a rattling box and dropped it on the table. Jungwon watched curiously as the doctor messed with the trinkets inside before quickly pulling out a heavy, old lock.

Sunghoon weighed it in his hand, deep in thought, then, without warning, he launched the object toward Jungwon’s direction.

Jungwon reacted quickly, grabbing the lock on a quick whim. His strength overcompensated the anxiety that arose from the unannounced need to protect his head.

The lock bent and broke under his grip, leaving a jagged metal ball in his palm. He glared at Sunghoon when the doctor approached and harshly dropped the lock in his hand.

“Sunghoon!” You gasped in disbelief. “You can’t do that during the assessment!”

“The assessment is whatever I see fit, and that did exactly what I need it to do,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly with a jerk of his head toward Jungwon’s direction. “He is strong, which is expected under the circumstances I put him in. Most vampires have massive reactive strength. The issue is learning to control it, which is out of my job description.”

“Throwing things at patients is also out of your job description!” you exclaimed.

“You would be surprised how much I can get away with, actually,” Sunghoon said as he returned the metal ball to Jungwon, who begrudgingly received it. He stepped aside and pointed at the wall on the opposite side, where there was nothing but white paint.

“Throw the ball at the wall, but I want it to fall exactly on the space that connects the wall and the floor together. I will account for the laws of physics.”

You watched as Jungwon clicked his tongue in annoyance. Keeping your eyes on the opposite wall, it was a shock when the metal ball was lodged into a hole in the wall within the blink of an eye. Your body flinched at the noise it created before your eyes could register the sight, and you grimaced when you saw how Jungwon pulled a face and shrunk into himself angrily.

“No normal strength control at all, which is also expected as a new vampire,” Sunghoon said as he walked over to the wall. He tapped the ball with the tip of his fingers twice before he turned around and gestured toward Jungwon. “Now take it back out.”

The younger boy heaved a deep sigh, to which you let out a pitying, awkward giggle in response. Jungwon heard you from behind him and instinctively whipped his head around to face you, his expressive brows furrowed to show his discontent with the check-up process.

Unfortunately, you could do nothing about it, so all you did was offer him a thumbs up and a genuine “You’re doing great!”

Jungwon patted his shaking knees at your brief and repeated encouragement. It was not in his nature to retort; it has never been! He knew he sometimes felt frustrated with authority figures, but he was very strict with expressing those feelings.

This newfound courage to talk back whenever his mind wanted to, or even when he did not feel the situation to be all that emotional, was not something he enjoyed.

“Yeah, whatever.” He sluggishly got off the bed and headed over to Sunghoon.

He curtly stared at the broken wall before quickly pulling the metal ball out between the cracks and handing it back to Sunghoon, just for him to walk behind his chair and callously throw the metal ball out the open window, all with a playful smile on his face.

“I am going to time you. Bring the lock back to me,” Sunghoon instructed.

“Is all of this necessary? I thought you already checked for my speed when you threw a lock at my face,” Jungwon uttered in annoyance. Without waiting for a response, he shrugged. “I’m not picking it up.”

Nervousness piqued in you at Jungwon’s response. Tightening your grip on the strap of your bag, you took a tiny step forward, hoping to provide some encouragement and guidance to the boy when Sunghoon held up his hand in motion for you to stop.

You stayed back then, curiosity riddled in your eyes as you watched Sunghoon move away from his desk and strode toward you.

“Fine, we don’t have to do that,” Sunghoon said casually as he glanced at his watch. “We can just–“

There was a windy shift in the air when Jungwon sped over to your corner and stumbled before you. You took a step back, equally as surprised as him.

Despite being taken back by seeing Sunghoon wordlessly swing his fist toward your general direction, Jungwon still found it in himself to react quickly enough to your defense. Perhaps even too quickly, he almost tripped on his feet, forcing himself to stop speeding forward.

When Jungwon grabbed hold of Sunghoon’s wrist, he heard a sound akin to that of glass breaking, and what followed was a sharp, burning sensation against his palm.

Retreating with a pained yelp, he touched his face and watched the redness slowly fade through the vampiric healing. Seeing his injury disappear brought him an awareness of the situation, and when he whipped his face toward the doctor, his first instinct was to lung at him.

Sunghoon had already anticipated this outcome. Therefore, stepping aside just in time to dodge the frustrated boy was no problem. Jungwon, surprised, sped across the room and slammed into the wall. He stumbled back with a hapless groan, his hand flying up to his forehead, where his cut immediately healed.

“Oh god,” you breathed out as you pushed Sunghoon aside and quickened your pace toward Jungwon. “Are you okay, Jungwon?”

You made a movement that insinuated your attempt to check on his face; your hands awkwardly hovered over Jungwon’s head, trying to remove his hands blocking his face.

Instead of allowing your good intentions, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and flicked your hands away from himself. His brows furrowed again into visible distaste when he turned away.

“I’m fine, jeez–I can’t even get injured anymore,” he muttered dismissively to you before looking up at Sunghoon, his real target. Curling his fists, he accused, “What the hell was that?”

“Calm down. It was a bluff,” Sunghoon explained dully, not before he threw you an apologetic smile. “You are fast, but you have no speed control. One point for you for being altruistic, though. Most new vampires who drop by don’t react when I do that to their counselors, and you just met yours.”

Jungwon almost cussed out loud, but he settled with an irritated scoff as he awkwardly stood on his spot. He barely shot you a glance as he was too busy glaring at the doctor, who was neither pleasant nor friendly, in his opinion.

But he may be right. Jungwon may be more altruistic than he thought himself to be. After all, he had no reason to shield that punch for you. He may hold good feelings for you, but those were more rooted on natural grounds than anything else.

It felt relieving to hear that he may still have a redeeming trait that is fundamentally part of what makes humanity: the instinct to help.

“Do you vampire doctors just go around fake punching people all the time?” Jungwon asked, crossing his arms and shrinking his shoulders now that he had learned of a new, mellowing perspective of himself. “Shouldn’t it be against ethical guidelines?”

“Only when necessary. I value my friendships, contrary to popular belief.” Sunghoon spared you a glance. “And no, it is not because I did not actually punch them.”

“I was talking about giving me a scare, both from throwing a lock at me and whatever you just did,” Jungwon clarified.

“Unfortunately, no. Laws to prosecute supernaturals are detailed, but laws that protect them are rarely discussed,” Sunghoon replied as he strolled over to his desk. He pulled open a lid and fished out a tongue depressor. Then, he returned to Jungwon.

Sunghoon stared down at the boy, not at all fazed by the familiar bloodshot eyes and peeking fangs. He did not think he went overboard. If anything, he gave a fair warning about the hard time Jungwon would have if he hadn’t started fixing his issues.

But he knew he would never pull stunts like that if his patient was a human, which should not be a behavior difference that matters.

Insensitivity has its perks and its downfall. The only wall stopping him from repeating the same methods to humans is the law, not his morals.

On some level, Sunghoon treated everyone equally, albeit his equality stood on the ground of making everyone miserable. In his opinion, it was better than how the majority viewed supernaturals.

Thanks to globalization and evolution, perspectives have improved in recent years. However, there was still blatant discrimination against supernatural beings that Jungwon participated in through silence.

Jungwon still had much to learn and experience. Truth be told, Sunghoon was not looking forward to the vampire’s journey of discovering how it feels to be a vampire in this world, but there was nothing he could do.

He was merely a graduate student gaining accessible experiences through supernatural beings so he could be on his way to becoming a human doctor. If anyone should speak on this social matter, he could never be the one.

“The law may favor me, but you are stronger than me,” Sunghoon muttered. “Justice does not exist in a casket.”

Jungwon wavered as the power dynamic single-handedly balanced itself between him and Sunghoon.

As of right now, the strongest person in the room was him—he was the strongest and the fastest. He may be less experienced, but if a fight broke out, it would not be a battle of brains but of brawn. He would win that battle, and Sunghoon told him that he knew. It was not in his favor to anger anyone.

Everything Sunghoon did was part of his plan to access a quality he didn’t say he was testing for.

“Open your mouth, I am going to check your fangs,” Sunghoon said, his voice softer.

Jungwon appeared confused for a second. Then, he realized his sharp teeth were pocking at his bottom lip.

Embarrassed, he averted his gaze at the ceiling and parted his mouth in cooperation. He squinted his eyes when he felt a few feathery taps against the end of his fangs, almost as if Sunghoon was checking for their sturdiness. Then, the wooden stick retreated from his mouth.

“Everything looks normal.” Sunghoon said briefly before he asked, “Can you try making your fangs go?”

Clamping his mouth shut, Jungwon lowered his head and stared ahead. Much like before, he was as clueless as he could be. There was no idea how he should go about retracting his fangs. He didn’t even know they were out in the first place; his heightened emotions were a perfect blind that shut before his consciousness, making him too aware of his surroundings but not himself.

“I don’t know how,” he said eventually, letting his fangs rest on his bottom lip.

“That’s okay.” Sunghoon nodded before proceeding to hold his hand up. He showed Jungwon his palm and tapped his finger against it. “Show me your palm.”

Jungwon mirrored the action, and Sunghoon quickly accessed the center of his palm. It was as expected: the red burn caused by Sunghoon’s vervain bracelet had faded entirely.

It would be troubling if it hadn’t, considering how small the dose of vervain was. Vampires should be able to sustain up to a significant amount of injuries at a time before the rate of their healing declines. As for individual limitation, there was no way of accessing that without literally having to torture patients, so that part would not be measured.

“The burning sensation was from the plant vervain. Vampires are allergic to them,” Sunghoon said. “The pain you felt should be a good enough reason to stay away from them, so I will not bore you with a reminder. Your healing is normal, but don’t take that as an incentive to abuse it.”

“Vervain…” Jungwon mumbled in thought, then chuckled, “It’s like on that vampire show.”

“Huh?” Sunghoon squinted his eyes lightly as he stopped in his tracks. “I don’t watch those things.”

“I think it is originally a book series,” you chimed in.

“I don’t read fiction.”

Jungwon gasped in disbelief. Somehow, that was the worst thing Sunghoon had done to him today. Storybooks were his escape growing up! His mother never had the time to read him any, and lord forbid his father ever pick up a book to lull him to sleep, so he always read them on his own.

When he didn’t understand the words, he would look at the pictures and create his own story until he could string everything together coherently.

Then he got older, and the books he read had no pictures. But his creative mind made up for it. The world existed in his head vividly. Those were his version of storybook illustrations.

It was an escape. It brought him joy, and it made him forget.

“Hold your horses now. Just because I don’t read it doesn’t mean I hate it,” Sunghoon said absentmindedly as he fiddled with the device.

Jungwon eyed the device curiously—it looked like a compass, but it also looked like it could be a beeper.

The soft ticking sounds it made as Sunghoon tuned it about made him anxious; he had never been fond of the sound of clocks ticking. It was not linked to any reasons why. It merely bothered him. It could sometimes depend on the clock’s quality, or perhaps it was how each tick reverberated in the air.

He just didn’t like it; unfortunately, he became hyperaware of it now that his hearing was severely heightened.

“You can hear the ticking sounds, Jungwon?”

The boy widened his eyes and nodded at the abrupt question. Sunghoon hummed, and he turned the dial again. The noise became quieter this time, but it was fairly present. Jungwon nodded again when he was asked the same question, and he repeated the process twice before finally shaking his head to indicate that he could no longer hear the ticking noises.

“Below average hearing, above average sight,” Sunghoon commented as he pulled open his chair and sat down. “Maybe you will hear it when you gain more control. You might be disrupted by the fact that you are subconsciously hearing many things at once right now.”

You faintly clapped your hands and cheered with a whisper, to which you knew Jungwon could hear. He did not turn to face you this time; unbeknownst to you, he allowed himself a tiny smile.

“We’re finished here.” Sunghoon waved as he looked up after finishing his writing. He motioned toward the door to the room and said, “Jungwon, please leave the room and close the door behind you. [Name], stay back because I need to talk to you.”

“Leave the room? I still got these on me!” It was a borderline whine that came out of Jungwon as he aggressively pointed at his face, where his bloody eyes and fangs were still visible. “I am not going out like this.”

“Helping you retract your fangs is out of my job description,” Sunghoon clarified calmly as he laced his fingers together to form a mock professional gesture. When Jungwon stayed stubborn on his spot, he sighed to lower his alerted demeanor. “Everyone working in this building has seen a vampire do that before. I say this with the utmost kindness–nobody cares.”

Dejected, Jungwon’s voice was strained with unpleasantness, but his legs were obediently taking him out the door. “Make it more obvious that you want me out of here so you can talk about me, why don’t you?”

“Well, I am certainly not asking [Name] out to dinner, so I don’t know what you are expecting, Jungwon,” Sunghoon retorted as he stood up, seeing that you were approaching him with a deadpan expression. Looking behind you, he flashed Jungwon a short wave and a mindless comment, “You can’t be putting everyone’s opinion of you to heart as a vampire! It’s going to haunt you for centuries. Literally!”

When the door closed behind Jungwon, you let the hell in your patience break loose, and you gave Sunghoon’s shoulder a harsh smack. He barely budged from his spot, feigning surprise at your action and patting the spot on his white coat as if to dust off the filth.

You scoffed at his careless reaction, tugging at your bag more tightly to keep yourself from strangling the indifference out of him.

“First of all, that was harsh. He is going through a lot right now. He can deal with less of your antics,” you scolded in a hushed tone, not wanting to give Jungwon a reason to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Second, you promised you wouldn’t do the bluff thing again! I wouldn’t report you to the board, but other staff working here who don’t like you will jump at the chance to report you!”

Sunghoon knew that.

There was a running joke that there could only be one Jake Sim in this building (which was obviously the man himself), meaning that no matter the chaos he caused, he would never get fired from his job.

The catch was that Jake was very good at his job, which Sunghoon was too, except doctors are expendable, and mentors are a completely different story.

Good doctors do their job. Good doctors tell the truth. Good doctors do what is required for them to do, which is to diagnose, access, and heal. You can find one in a medical school graduation ceremony with a blindfold, and that student would not fall too far from the decent spectrum.

Mentors do their job, but good mentors also build relationships. Good mentors learn the balance between true and false and know where to stick you on the see-saw so that you can see the horizon. Good mentors tell you yes even when the answer leans toward no, and when you mess up, they take responsibility.

A good doctor may not be a good person, but a good mentor most likely will be.

Sunghoon knew where he stood in the spectrum of human decency.

Sunghoon also knew where you stood.

The stigma surrounding his reputation did not start with him behaving questionably to the people he worked with. He may have unconventional opinions about every topic one could discuss and may do things out of the ordinary that people disagree with, but he is not a bad person. His lack of conformity was an act of retaliation.

His colleagues did not like him from the start of his internship. There were no first impressions, second chances, personalities, or background stories. Sunghoon was a man who grew up smarter than everyone else, richer than everyone else, and better-looking than everyone else.

Nobody liked him because he had his life set out for him from birth and because he was so conventionally perfect that the only way to pick on him was through the one thing he lacked—empathy.

A doctor without feelings; shame, shame, shame! How could he be successful? How could he be fit to do work rooted in the basis of humanity? How could he ever heal anybody with that empty heart of his? Screw his smarts! Screw his intelligence! A monster disguised as a good man is no good! A wolf in sheep’s clothing is no good!

(Obviously, there is no logical sense in trying to degrade a man with no empathy, but irony tends to be lost on people with passionate, blind hatred.)

Sunghoon’s preposterous behavior was an act of retaliation. If he was to be hated so much, he might as well become hatred itself. At least that way, he wouldn’t have to act according to protocols and pretend he thinks of what he does not care about.

He had no issue doing that; he had been that way for however long he could remember. He was all brains with the shell of a heart for a while until the heart came in the form of you.

“I was harsh because he got an attitude. I don’t care if he has an attitude with me, but he was scoffing and rolling his eyes at you, and I will not tolerate that.” Sunghoon made a poor attempt at explaining himself, but he remained confident when he spoke that it was hard not to think he was right.

“His parents aren’t here to discipline him now, so I might as well take up the job.”

“Oh my god! You can’t just say that!” you exclaimed in disbelief, bows furrowed and hands on your hips as if you were about to beat the manners into him. “I don’t think he can help throwing a little tantrum right now, considering the trauma he went through.”

He smirked, an airy laugh escaping his lips with bewilderment laced around its corner.

“First, you should know how much I care about people’s experiences. Second, we still cannot reinforce this kind of behavior. It’s not like I punished him or anything. I just gave him a few jabs here and there. If I turn out to be the bad person, which I am, then so be it.”

“But you’re not a bad person,” you responded without hesitation, but there was grit in your voice that Sunghoon had never heard before. “I heard what you told him. You were trying to get him to understand he has control in this situation. That was a really good thing you did.”

Except it wasn’t. Sunghoon voluntarily dropped the power dynamic between himself and Jungwon, which was a deliberate action.

He calculated it with caution as his motive after understanding Jungwon’s lack of control over his vampirism. He gave Jungwon a piece of candy after pushing the boy to the ground and finding out he was invulnerable to harm. It had nothing to do with how comfortable Jungwon felt and everything to do with his safety.

But you thought it was a good thing. You always thought so, and you always noticed.

It was him releasing alerted vampires out of their locked dorm rooms and into the courtyard at night. He said it was an act of rebellion against certain sponsors he heard had been bothering him when, in reality, he believed that even the most uncontrollable people deserve to feel the moon shine on their skin.

Or him refusing to take on a case requested of him by the faculty, claiming that it was too plain and simple for someone of his caliber, claiming that the patient wasn’t interesting enough for him to take a look at, or that it was a bad look to have an intern work on such a dull task.

But he also overheard that the vampire wasn’t ready to meet anyone, that she had only needed some more time before being accessed and checked on.

Even the way he directed Jungwon’s distaste onto himself just then, which he said was about discipline and being disrespected. What he really thought was that it was infinitely better than letting the boy blame himself in silence.

It was a temporary antidote, but even for a second, Sunghoon thought it was good that Jungwon stopped hating himself for killing his parents.

There was peace in Sunghoon’s violence, and you knew that.

He knew where you stood, which was always next to him. If anyone has his back in this building, it is you; he has yours.

“Take this and give it to Jay. He has a lot to work on with that kid out there,” Sunghoon said as he fished out a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to you. He smiled when you received it, waiting for you to fold it and put it away before catching your attention with another gift. “And I want you to have this.”

You glanced at his hand as he held it out to you. Standing in the middle of his palm was a metal, beaded bracelet, which you can see Sunghoon wearing on his wrist.

The center bead was visibly bigger than the rest of the bracelet, and you could see traces of purple gleaming along the surface. The color was made more transparent when reflected off a light source.

“It’s a vervain bracelet. The purple lines in the center bead have vervain liquid inside it. It is easily breakable under impact, and when it breaks, poof!” He made a motion of explosion with his free hand, his face contorting to fit the moment of ridiculousness.

“It can’t kill a vampire, but it can certainly catch them off guard, and the residue that gets on your skin can last a long time.”

“Jungwon is not going to hurt me if that is what you’re concerned about,” you said with a soft sigh.

“You quite literally do not know that,” he argued as he grabbed your hand and placed the bracelet in your palm. “Do you remember what happened last time?”

“That was my fault.” Your voice was grim as you recalled the last incident with an angered vampire.

You could say you were at the wrong place at the wrong time because you usually do not stay for the duration of vampire training. Neither Jay nor Jake (what a mouthful!) encouraged humans to be in the gymnasium during a training session.

You had stood by because you thought you had the obligation—you did schedule another training meet-up against the client’s will out of necessity. When Jay was irrationally pointing out their flaws, they directed their anger toward the source.

You were, undoubtedly, the source.

"No, it was that vampire's fault, whoever they are," Sunghoon pointed out factually, keeping the heated grudge in his chest to a minimum. He could not afford to have another breakdown over that incident. "They tried to cheat the system and get a discharge earlier than they should. Jay pointed out their lack of progress, albeit he can be harsh sometimes. If they get angry, it is on them. Attacking you had only proved Jay's point."

When he saw the grimace on your face, he flicked your forehead to snap you out of your guilted trance. You met his eyes with a glare. He only smirked in return.

"You made the right decision that time, but this time? Not so much," he made a humming noise as he tilted his head for a playful effect, and then he eyed you thoughtfully. "I think you don't want to hurt Jungwon."

“I am definitely not throwing rusty locks at his face, that’s for sure,” you retorted after a moment of thought. You left your palm out, leaving the bracelet up for grabs and indicating to him that you genuinely thought you didn't have to have it. “It isn’t just him either. I have vampire friends. Heeseung is my friend. Jake and Jay are both people I talk to every day.”

"Heeseung would probably want to be more than that," Sunghoon casually added, wiggling his brows up and down playfully, which you wholeheartedly ignored as you always have when he talked about Heeseung's feelings for you.

His face fell flat after a moment of silence. He stared at you; his brilliant eyes, for once, held less intelligence and more tenderness in them. This has been an unlikely friendship, and it has been one that he treasured however much he could.

He has your back; he promised himself once. He would look out for you, nag you like a father, and cover up a murder for you.

And never again would he go through the hopeless torment of panicking when a staff burst through his office door with you unconscious on their back, blood trailing out the holes in your neck and the wound visible on your forehead.

And he could think of nothing aside from shouting your name loud enough for Heeseung, who had thankfully been somewhere in this building, to hear.

Sunghoon needed you to be safe. He needed you to take every precaution there is to be safe.

“Jungwon is a good kid, I will admit that. But a vampire who doesn’t know how to control himself cannot be more than that. If it makes you feel bad to villainize his potential, then let me be the person to do it,” he told you as he flicked your forehead gently. “Just wear the bracelet. Consider it a favor requested.”

You smirked to yourself as you carefully wore the bracelet on your wrist. You were never going to refute his caution, anyway. While you did think wearing the bracelet may be an act of overthinking, you did plan to keep it with yourself just in case you needed it. When you were done adjusting the newfound weight on your wrist, you held your arm up and showed it to your friend.

“There! Does this make you feel better, hmm?” You said, shaking your wrist at his face.

Sunghoon only chuckled in agreement, pushing your hand away while stepping back. Neither you nor he bid each other a verbal farewell when you turned around and left for the door. Sunghoon watched your back for a moment before he returned to his desk, getting ready to pile up some documents for work.

Jungwon quickly turned away when he heard your footsteps near the other side of the door. He had not been eavesdropping intentionally. Like Sunghoon said, he has been hearing everything at once, so your conversation with the doctor could not escape his grasp either.

He wished he didn't have to hear what you both have to say about him, though, because all he felt was guilt knowing that you bear no ill will toward him, not even after he gave you an attitude you did not deserve.

It might make him feel better if he settled with the assumption that you lied, knowing he could be eavesdropping on your conversation, but even then, it did not give you any reason not to get pissed at him for being nosy.

Most importantly, though, he did not like hearing that he was a potential danger to others. He spent his whole life falling victim to the danger created by others. Now it felt like the roles were reversed instead of destroyed. They were reversed the second he became a vampire, but he could ignore it until a professional confronted him about it indirectly.

Jungwon sluggishly slid his body against the wall, feeling the tip of his fangs poke at his bottom lip for a moment—lord, they were still there! The most prominent threat of his being stayed present on his face, and he hated it.

His fangs were equivalent to the beer bottle in his mother's hands and the raging veins on his father's neck. He could not get rid of dangerous, harmful, or disastrous things even if he tried. It was a shame.

Letting out a mumbled groan, he turned his body over to face the wall completely. He shoved his hands in his pockets and dipped his head, letting his hood cover most of his face as he buried himself against the wall. He wanted to shrink into thin air. He wanted to stop existing entirely.

“Is this an attempt to hide?” You asked lightheartedly once you saw him, your eyes scanning his figure as if trying to find his hidden face.

“Yes,” Jungwon replied with a nod.

You sighed, stepping closer without ceasing your attempt to see him. "Are your fangs still out?"

“Yes,” he replied again but much quieter. His nod was more of an indication of his answer than his voice was.

Your smile softened. You would reassure Jungwon that he looked fine if you could, but you knew it was futile to make him feel better. A teenager as cynical as him would rather accuse you of your deception, if anything. You could only give him time and privacy to prepare for all that he must do after this terrible day. That level of sympathy you gave him was against the worker's guidelines.

The rehabilitation center may be funded richly, with ample technologies, knowledge, equipment, and space to accomplish its purpose. But the hearts of those in power lacked empathy for those who suffer, and no amount of money could ever earn you a heart that beats for others.

"We are supposed to meet the coaches today. They will teach you how to properly control your vampirism, which you must learn if you want a shot of getting out of here with no dire criminal record," you whispered closely to him. "But if you're uncomfortable right now, we can put that off until later today."

Jungwon bit his lower lip and cringed at the sheer pointedness of the stab. Even though the fangs were on his face, he still forgot their existence. That must be a form of indication that he would be a lousy vampire.

He could get famous from this: the world's stupidest vampire, Yang Jungwon, who killed his parents at the tender age of seventeen, but the clock was not in his favor!

God, he felt stupid. So stupid.

“My fangs are still out,” he said. I feel ugly. He wanted to add.

“The coaches are vampires. I don’t think they will mind,” you responded.

That was not what he was whining about. To him, meeting with familiar individuals wouldn't serve him the comfort he needed. Not that he needed comfort! He wanted solutions, an end to this madness, and a path to the vampire who did this to him so he could timidly act on his vengeance. Unless another vampire could provide resources for all those, he would not enjoy meeting them.

You watched his disheartened expression with ease. This was not the first time you encountered new vampires who disliked how their vampirism looked, for most of them have known the blood veins and black eyes to be a sign of danger, and no beings like to exist as what they are taught to avoid.

You have learned there wasn’t much you could say but to provide a sense of belonging.

Not so much in the sense of inclusion or blending in. That could happen later. It was more to show that there is no harm done in their presence being here, that their being anywhere is not a crime or a disservice.

“Nobody here minds you,” you said. “I don’t mind you.”

But you have to say that, surely? Or could you be telling the truth? Was it a lie disguised as comfort? Did it matter if it was? Did it matter if it was anything?

There was comfort in your words, even though he was hell-bent on acting as if logical solutions to his problems were all he needed. He knew he liked the sound of the comfort; he felt awkward receiving it, but there was no denying the relieved exhale he let out.

Jungwon gave you a peek, his frown deepening in thought. He felt the retracting of his fangs for a second, but the second he was aware of them, they grew back.

Kindness was kept on your face, a smile that went a long way to meet him, and he thought he wanted to do what you asked. He thought he wanted to be nice to you, listen well, and not complain.

"I bet they look like sparkling royalties," he grumbled as he pushed himself off the wall and stumbled away. He stopped to look back at you, his confused gaze asking you to give him directions.

“You are half correct about that,” you laughed as you brushed past him to walk ahead, leading him to where he needed to go. “They don’t look like royalties, but they do sparkle.”

Jungwon knew you lied to him about vampires sparkling.

In fact, he was living proof of what a vampire would look like, which was neither akin to royalty nor Tinker Bell because he believed he possessed neither of those elements.

He already knew the truth. Besides, he would be naive to believe in what was blatantly a joke. Yet, when he saw that the vampire couch in the gymnasium was nothing short of a sweating and intimidating man, he felt betrayed.

“Your kid is studying me like a hawk,” Jay muttered to you after he leaned down to be at your ear level. He shared a glance with you and furrowed his brows semi-humorously, debating whether he wanted to meet Jungwon’s eyes in return. “Also, his fangs are out.”

“He is agitated. The police station just sent him here not too long ago,” you replied as you rummaged through your pockets and gave him a slip of paper clipped between your fingers. “Sunghoon told me to give this to you.”

You did not give him enough time to dwell on what you said. He received the paper with a quiet thanks and examined it immediately, his brows furrowed at the unsightly, doctor-like handwriting Sunghoon had. The note briefly noted Jungwon’s poor vampiric beginning.

The limited information given by Sunghoon was about what Jay expected would be written on there, which was that Jungwon has all the power a man would hope for and none of the physical or emotional control over it.

He has met and trained a diverse group of newly turned vampires—from young to old, from knowledgable and clueless, from excited to depressed. Jungwon and his ordinary self were no exception when it came to boring Jay’s decades of experiences.

“Sunghoon wrote that he is altruistic,” Jay commented in faint surprise, not because Jungwon possessed a human characteristic but because Sunghoon complimented someone.

You scoffed a laugh as you briefly looked to the side at Jungwon. The boy was tapping his feet impatiently with his head now hung low. You assumed he heard what Jay said about his staring, but it could just as likely be him trying to hide his face.

Leaning closer to Jay, you recalled, “Sunghoon tried to punch me–it was a bluff. He sped over and slammed into the wall.”

“That shows that he is altruistic. Why?” Jay questioned.

You shrugged in response. “I don’t know. He might just be angry, but we like to think part of him wanted to block the punch for me.”

You saw him roll his eyes and knew he had something to say about your assumptions. You also knew what he wanted to say and were glad he kept his mouth shut.

Out of all your colleagues, Jay was the one who warned you the most about the predatory nature of vampires.

While Sunghoon also worries greatly because of his naturally untrusting nature, the smart-ass tends to take action rather than talk. Hence, he gave you the bracelet to wear. Jay was different. Jay was good at the negative talking and the paranoid over-assuming.

His nagging exaggerated for a while after your incident, to which he silently blamed his own harshness as fault for your trauma.

Until today, no matter how many times you pushed him out of the equation, he wondered if things would have gone differently if he had been nicer to people.

But he has made no effort to change his attitude. His harshness was not a fault, even though it has caused mistakes.

What he did was take steps to prevent it, and he did that by spreading repeated warnings to you whenever he could.

Be careful of vampires. Be wary of vampires. They can and will hurt you. Pain and death are where vampires come from, after all. Please don’t get hurt, don’t let them hurt you. If you get hurt, I get hurt.

He has never voiced it. He assumed you understood with the way he loved the people around him.

It wasn’t that Jay believed in a lack of goodness in vampires. Never take his negativity as a case of personal beliefs. He wasn’t a bad vampire, and he knew that. Jake was far from a murderous vampire, and everyone knew that. Rather, he found himself needing to be the cautious one.

He has to be careful and aloof so Jake, the more cheerful part of the duo, can live believing in the best of people. Because Jake has never had the heart in him to think ill of anyone, and because his loving heart will break under the pressure of cruelty.

The negativity does not hurt Jay. For decades, he chose to live with doom and gloom, and it does not hurt him because he will do anything for Jake. However, it was not something you like to hear, so you appreciate it when he keeps it to himself unless necessary.

“I don’t blame him for being angry. He did turn because of an assault when he was heading home from school,” you informed as quietly as you could.

Jay hummed lowly in acknowledgment, but there was barely any shred of compassion in him as he continued the conversation casually.

“Most of us turned because of an assault. A vampire that didn’t drain our blood completely, a vampire that thought it would be fun to use the sire bond to manufacture a group of followers. Hell, the last person I trained got lucky and took some blood from the vampire that attacked him during self-defense.”

“Then you would understand the consequences of experiencing that.” You nudged his arm lightly and flashed him a pointed glare, willing him to be more outwardly compassionate.

That Jay understood. How could he not? His own transition was far from a dreamy occasion.

He was a measly boy working at a bar, wiping tables and mopping the floor, who got caught in the path of a condescending vampire who wanted the newfound power. He endured a torturous night, the details of it locked behind his lips and Jake’s memories.

Before the brink of his death, his best friend came to a messy rescue. He was supposed to be healed, but the angry man snatched him from Jake’s arms and staked a knife through his heart, not noticing that Jake had already fed his blood.

The emotions he felt after he opened his eyes again were indescribable, mostly because he felt nothing. Perhaps he could pass it off as vengeance or infuriation, but his goal had not been to take back what was stripped from him.

e could say he felt murderous, yet his actions were not attached to any emotions. He was without a plan, any clues, or a reason.

He was just a man who walked because he had to kill another man because he could kill another man.

He had been cruel, and he unlearned that in decades’ worth of time. Although unlearned, it was never forgotten. The violence only slipped between the gaps of his fingers and dripped away from his fingertips, where he had immediate access. But it could quickly come back.

His anger and the immense strength that came with it could return with just a snap of his mind.

“You will have to be in touch with Heeseung and me about his training progress more consistently,” you told him after giving a moment of silence.

“Because of the court cases? I already do that,” Jay muttered,

“No, this one is special,” you said, leaning in to speak as quietly as you could for irrational reasons. Jungwon could hear you if he wanted to. “He killed his parents just before the clock struck on his birthday. Technically, the murder happened when he was a minor, but he was arrested as an adult and could very well be charged as one, but–“

“He is only eighteen years old.”

“–he is only eighteen years old.”

Your voice dropped slowly upon Jay’s knowing echo of your words. Then your shoulders slumped as the complications and the sheer stupidity of those complications hit you in the face.

Vampiric control aside, supernaturals aside, the jump between seventeen and eighteen does not entail the process of maturation the law states that it has.

Or, at least, for the apparent moral dilemmas, it does not exist.

A seventeen-year-old or a thirteen-year-old child knows just as well as any adult that killing people is terrible. Those are not taught by experiences or maturity. Those are things a human being just knows.

So why should Jungwon be given a lighter sentence? Did his tragic circumstances come into play? Was it his young age or his perceived innocence? Why should children who understand the moral slope of heinous crimes be given juvenile punishments? Did the rules of nature and magic become a considerable factor?

Was it our empathy, the very thing we pride ourselves in? Was it our ability to mix black and white to various degrees of gray? Was it fair to argue “but“ when death exists?

But they are children. But they were defending themselves. But they did it for a greater cause. But those people were bad. But they had no other choice. But they were forced to do this. But it was the lesser of two evils.

Circumstances and the compassion people have for them bring about inequality in legal punishments, and justice calls for inequality. It is fair sometimes.

Sometimes, you look at an eighteen-year-old, and you think how unfair it would be that he be sentenced to a hundred years in prison for a crime he did not wish to commit after being turned into a creature he did not ask to become.

“I don’t feel bad for him,” Jay said, breaking the silence.

“Plenty of people already don’t,” you said with a heavy exhale. “Maybe it will do him good to not treat him like a victim, though. He doesn’t need any more pitiful spotlight than he already puts himself under.”

"Well, I have never been one to treat people like babies." Jay smiled as he folded the piece of paper Sunghoon had written on and shoved it into his pockets.

He stepped away from you to see your face better, and his heart softened. His mind was playing tricks on him, but he thought you were beginning to look just a little older than him.

To think you two were the same physical age when you first joined the rehabilitation center, and now you were nearing the end goal of your career dream.

"How is the doctorate program treating you?" He asked. "You have plans to work here when you finish school?"

“Probably not. I am studying to be a researcher, not a counselor,” you replied.

“Bummer,” he laughed. “The kids always leave.”

You scrunched your nose in dismay and then looked at him with the same discomfort. "Get out of the habit of saying that. I will look older than you at some point, and it will sound awkward when you refer to me as a kid."

“Once again, conveniently forgetting that I am about a couple hundred years older than you,” he hummed in defeat.

“It’s not my fault you were attacked and turned at twenty years old." You accessed the changes in his facial expression—he gave you a playfully disapproving look, and you laughed. “I’m sorry. Don’t refer to me as a kid, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jay exclaimed jokingly as he knocked his knuckles against the side of your head, his feet taking him away from you and toward Jungwon. “You are already starting to look older than me.”

You raised your fist as a threat to throw him a punch. Your eyes followed him toward the gymnasium door, and you worried for a split second when you saw that Jungwon's eyes brightened in alert upon Jay's approach.

Then, quickly, you caught a glimpse of a moving figure by the double doors. When you focused on it, you could see a head of fluffy black peeking over the door frame, and you pursed your lips into a faint smile.

Heeseung gripped his phone excitedly when he saw you approach him.

He has been running around all day since his shift started (if it ever ends). Jungwon's case came crashing into the legal department of the rehabilitation center this morning. With his unfortunate luck, it landed right in his supervisor's lab.

The peculiarity of this legal case has got him running in circles, gathering information and document, that his head had begun hurting since lunch hours.

Knowing he would see you at some point during the day kept him going. Thankfully, the time arrived earlier than usual.

Mostly, on a regular day, you two would meet up when your shift ends, which would be the time when Heeseung clocks out for dinner so he could spend an hour with you. You two would have dinner and, if time allows, walk around the busy street, and he would send you home before heading back to his office to work overtime.

“You look dapper,” you complimented with a grin.

Heeseung fixed the roll line of his blazer with a huffed giggle. He briefly glanced down at himself; at least his attire remained tidy. “Thank you,” he replied. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

You smirked, your eyes focusing nowhere. “I try my best. The dress code here is horrendous.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” he exclaimed under his breath, his brows furrowed almost passionately at the sudden emergence of a fashion topic. “I know most workplaces have their employees wear suits to work, but I am sweating my ass off in this! I don’t even know how there isn’t a wet patch on my back right now!”

Shifting your weight, you leaned back slightly to glance at his behind, to which he quickly responded by turning his body toward you and laughing. You shrugged innocently in response, the excuse of curiosity hanging quietly at your mouth as you half-heartedly apologized.

A refreshing wave washed through Heeseung upon seeing your shrunken smile. After facing plain walls of texts, exhausted colleagues, and an annoyed supervisor all day, it was satisfying to see you. As if seeing you was never the only highlight of his day anyway.

That aside, there was something he was initially here for—Jungwon’s trial.

“We’ve got ourselves in a bit of a pickle,” he initiated as he tapped his phone screen, a device he has been relentlessly communicating with you through today.

Afterward, he looked into the gymnasium and fixed his gaze on Jay. His brows furrowed at the boy he assumed to be Jungwon, and he huffed quietly, “Is that him?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s always good to put a face to a name,” Heeseung exhaled tiredly, trying to remove the frown that appeared when he saw Jungwon’s fangs were visible. “I have some important things to tell you about the case.”

You stood closer to him. You debated if you wanted to take this somewhere else, considering Jungwon’s supernatural hearing ability.

However, he was preoccupied following Jay’s seemingly horrendous instruction as the coach tested his vampiric abilities. Y

ou doubted he even had the time to listen in on your conversation. You hummed; Sunghoon did mention he was hearing everything at once, though. Eavesdropping may be out of his control.

Pulling at the hem of his blazer sleeve, you pulled Heeseung a few steps backward until you two reached the corner of the opposite wall. You flashed him a defeated look when he laughed and waved him off. “I wanted to make sure he can’t hear us.”

“Sure!” Heeseung replied. “You still have to tell him what we talked about, though. At least some of the information I have.”

“Of course.” You nodded before rubbing your hands together and looking at him expectantly. “So, how is it gonna go?”

Your breathlessness was not masked in your words, and how your brows furrowed contradicted the anticipated optimism in your eyes.

You were expecting lousy news while desperately hoping he could give you something to be wrong about, to which Heeseung could only react with a great hurt in his chest because he has little to no great news about this case.

“I won’t say what I have is necessarily bad news. It really just depends on how we view it,” he started lightly, the gestures in his hands reluctant. A pursed smile on his face signified thoughtfulness, which was familiar to him.

“Most important thing, this information is still tentative, but from what I have heard, they are assigning Judge Park to this case, which means–“

“We are doomed.”

“Not quite! Maybe we are, but I think we can work around it!”

You stared at Heeseung defeatedly, finding his forced optimism lackluster and uncomfortable. He returned your gaze with the same nervousness and the apologetic smile he had yet to wipe off his face upon giving you this terrible news.

Judge Park was known for his prejudice against supernaturals; he was often mean, vulgar, and antagonistic to every supernatural he had encountered in court.

Unfortunately, the lack of vile language allowed in such a professional setting was compensated with critical gazes, a narrow mind, a complete disregard for circumstances, and finally, a maximum sentence.

It was for understandable reason, although you vehemently disagreed with it anyway. Judge Park’s family was involved in a case of manslaughter done by a werewolf on a full moon. There was a brief debate online over the justification of his cruelty to supernatural beings.

For one, it is an unspoken law that human beings do not wander into the woodlands on any specially marked date on the universe calendar, such as the full moon (werewolves), the start of each season (fairies), or the third Sunday of November (yokai).

While it is given that supernaturals and human beings should live harmoniously together and that not all supernaturals are inherently dangerous, humans are responsible for protecting themselves and respecting the boundaries of non-human traditions.

Disregarding the universal knowledge of what happens to a werewolf on a full moon, as well as the warnings given by the witches, who act as the messengers of nature and magic, to not enter the dark woods, Judge Park took his family out to stargaze at the perfect spot deep in the woods anyway.

He believed that it was his freedom to do as he pleased and that he should not live in a world where he had to fear the danger of being killed. His belief was only magnified after his family’s death.

Some people agreed that the fault lay in the Judge himself. Most people did not venture into the forest during the full moon, knowing the potential harm that could happen to them, meaning that Judge Park’s disobedience is not a pattern but an oddity.

It was his fault for not following the rules, which everyone else had no issue abiding by. He has the right to grief and to be angry, but ultimately, he had what was coming for him.

Some others took this case as some sort of awakening and decided that Judge Park was right.

Why should human beings live in fear on certain days? Why should people not be allowed to stroll in the forest because some werewolves might lose control of it? If werewolves knew they would cause other people harm, they should be the ones locking themselves up in a basement. Take their issue somewhere private and stop bothering ordinary people with it!

Most people did not pick a side. Jungwon was one of them. As a child, his stance was that both sides were wasting their time. Sure, he would hate to be forbidden from visiting some places because some supernatural beings cannot control their biology, as ironic as that sounded.

At the same time, by the lord! If people are going to complain about not going to the forest for one night, maybe they don’t deserve to have an opinion at all! Whiny bastards deserve nothing!

Since that publicized tragedy, Judge Park has been strictly cruel to supernaturals, disregarding their circumstances. His bias was blatant, but there has been no outcry about it.

Only a tiny portion of human beings have gathered together to talk about this issue. In contrast, most others simply went about their day realizing that their significantly shorter lifespan did not need the social pressure that has very little to do with their species.

Jungwon may fall victim to that.

“There is one thing I figure we might be able to do to appeal to him,” Heeseung mentioned after he took an exhausted breath. He waited a moment before he spoke, “My supervisor thinks this is a far stretch, but I think if we emphasize Jungwon’s accident, we might have a fighting chance.”

“I thought Judge Park doesn’t consider tragedies,” you pointed out, brows furrowed.

“He doesn’t, but his record shows that most cases involved adult offenders. I mean old adults, like people in their thirties, which makes sense since he is not a juvenile judge.” Heeseung rolled his eyes as his voice fell off. “But I suspect he tends to be assigned to cases with older perpetrators because he doesn’t like sentencing younger people.”

He held out his index finger to signal you to hold your opinion. He has more to say. Even though his supervisor may be correct that his assumption was a stretch to the moon, he has to believe in himself somehow to feel a sense of security in this case.

Not only did he think he was obligated to win his cases as a law student, but his perfectionism would not allow him any other path but success.

“Jungwon is exactly the age of his son when the accident happened. Similarly, Jungwon was also attacked by a supernatural, therefore committing the crime that he did,” Heeseung said. “Bringing up that similarity and reminding Judge Park that Jungwon was just a normal boy before the uncontrollable incident happened might just steer us down the winning road.”

“So we are using the excuse that he is young, that he has a whole life ahead of him, and that this is technically not his fault as our defense,” you muttered with a raise of your brows. “We’ve all heard that one before.”

“Hey! One point can be made moral in one argument and not in another!” He retorted in a silent scream. “The world is gray, not black and white!”

“Nothing about being manipulative is morally upright.”

“And I don’t claim to be a saint.” Heeseung smiled with a boyish shrug. “Lord knows I’m not in the eyes of the anti-believers… and the believers….” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Do the bible believers and the supernatural haters make up one Venn diagram, where the middle just has the word vampire crossed out with bright red paint?”

Your best friend chuckled, his voice as hearty as his smile, as he barely dodged your arm slap. You had rolled your eyes at him, but you appreciated the occasional jokes he still managed to make despite such a stressful situation.

Then, silence fell between the gap where you two stood. Heeseung stood staring at you. It is, on occasion, the only thing he knew how to do. It has been that way for months after you two befriended each other at university.

You merely looked elsewhere to dismiss his blatant gaze, but your heart cooed. If any of your friends saw this, especially Sunghoon, they would mock you again.

Jungwon looked normal again. His fangs had retracted from his gums, and his eyes were of a usual, boyish glint once again. He had removed his hoodie and left himself with only a shirt, probably to combat the heat from doing more vampire tests for his record file.

You were unsure what Jay taught or made him do, but Jungwon looked significantly more comfortable with a more knowledgeable vampire in his presence. He looked excited as he listened intently to what Jay was teaching him.

“He should be at school,” you whispered to Heeseung, then you looked at him in realization. “We have to help him catch up with his college application.”

Heeseung widened his eyes, his gears turning. “College…? He has to turn in late applications at this point.”

“That’s what I told him.” You nodded in agreement.

“Okay… that should be no problem,” he mentioned, although the light tremor in his voice betrayed his spoken optimism. “We will have to visit his school anyway to talk about his attendance and ask if we can bring any of his friends to testify in his favor. You can talk about college with the administration then.”

You nodded in agreement. “Just keep me posted about the schedules.”

“Got it.” Heeseung snapped his fingers. “We are still figuring things out, but for now, there are a few rules you need to make sure Jungwon follows to a T to make our side more compelling.”

Heeseung began to list things that seemed reasonable enough: Jungwon should use his vampiric abilities moderately. The best bet is that he only uses them during training and doctor's appointments. Never get caught using his powers to his advantage. Show up to all of his appointments.

Last but definitely not least, never ever harm a human being. These were all standard rules to follow for vampires being put on trial, so you were not surprised to hear them.

With your brief knowledge of Jungown, you doubted he would have issues following them. He might be exuding some form of teenage rebellion here and there, but those were limited to fits and tantrums, not sinking fangs into flesh and whatnot.

“You need to schedule therapy sessions for him,” Heeseung added. “The therapist will be called to court to testify. We need to clarify that his trauma isn't going to be used as a justification for potential future crimes.”

You furrowed your brows; that felt insensitive but not illogical, unfortunately. Not to mention, Heeseung could not afford to value emotions as a lawyer unless he needed to use them as a manipulative device.

He was good at it, but he was affected by it. There have been times, though, when you could hear in his drunken haze (a rare sight; vampires do not get drunk quickly) that the first thing he would do after turning a hundred years old was to leave this career.

With a soft nod and a faraway hum, you let him know that you retained everything he told you and would take care of it.

You turned your head and looked into the gymnasium again. You caught Jungwon’s eyes this time. He may have been resting or staring curiously at the man you were talking to. You debated whether to introduce them to each other until Jungwon removed himself from a social opening by turning away completely.

There was an unsatisfactory pout on his face to show that he hated something, whatever it was. Your best guess was that he was thrown into this whole situation.

Having to meet you and everyone else, having to follow rules that could affect his livelihood, having to train and learn new ways of living—he probably hated everything that had happened so far, and you could only hope to get him out of it.

“Can you do that?”

Jungwon has blocked your voice out. He couldn’t recall precisely when his head began to tune your voice out, but he suspected it had something to do with him having to follow more rules for the sake of his manslaughter trial.

But he knew he didn't entirely tune you out. After all, what you told him concerned his livelihood, which, if all goes well, would last for a painfully long time.

Don't use his vampire powers, get used to his abilities, don't hurt human beings, and control your emotions—he heard what you said. His act of blocking you out was more of a silent tantrum. It was something that screamed that he was exhausted and had no intention of following you.

From today on, every step he takes would be an obligatory step. He takes them not because he wants to but because he has to.

Following the schedule curated for him by the rehabilitation system, he goes to training when it wants him to, and he goes to the doctor’s office when it asks him to.

He gets over killing his parents and their death under a pressuring amount of time because the court needs him to. Or else his mind rots in prison for the next hundred years.

Jungwon flicked his nails against his skin, a sense of vengeance flaring in his chest at the thought of his destiny's cruelty.

Nothing ever changed, and nothing ever will. He was trapped in his abusive parents' home. He got trapped in a body he never asked for. Thus, he is in a system that does not have his best interest in mind, and he will get stuck in prison because nothing ever goes well for him.

Pain was only ever the answer. He belonged to it.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Jungwon replied lowly. He glared at you, his gaze more tired than hateful. “If I don’t do this, I get punished.”

You sighed at a loss for words. Perhaps acting as if he had freedom when he was on the tightest leash ever known to mankind would be a mistake. You valued optimism, but false hope should never be disguised as such.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jungwon muttered. “This didn’t happen because of you.”

Your heart dropped further down your stomach, but you responded with a change of topic. “I will be booking you some sessions with our therapist. Just giving you a heads up.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed when he caught himself doing that.

He was getting more irritable as the day went on, which was unlike himself. The lack of his parents' existence gave him a false sense of freedom and relief.

Along with the confusion and pain, there were those meekly positive feelings. They made him feel whatever he wanted, and most importantly, they made him express those emotions whenever he wanted, regardless of how it could make others feel.

He was dissatisfied with the way he was acting. Growing up, he was conditioned to be the perfect child; by perfect, it meant sitting still and being quiet about his issues. Suddenly being forced to break out of that norm felt freeing and uncomfortable, not to mention how much his attitude affected others around him.

Sunghoon gave him a blatant reaction by holding little to nothing back when he expressed his indifference to him, even though Jungwon liked to think that man might be a peculiar case of a light-hearted psychopath.

While he was more at ease with Jay, he could tell the coach was choosing to be lenient with him, especially since Jay did not have the face of a kind man. You haven’t said anything, but he thought you must feel rather ill of him.

Everyone he has met so far has an obligation to help him, and all he did was be hissy about it.

"Would you like to wait a little before you talk to anyone about what happened?"

Your question broke Jungwon out of his trance. He looked at you, light surfacing back into his eyes as his mind focused on forming a response.

How has he been feeling? His mind blanked out at the question. He was never used to people asking about his feelings. Even if he was used to talking about them, how should someone feel about this?

His life just went through a dramatic, violent change, and he was to be prosecuted for it even though he had no control over the matter.

His body was no longer the same as it used to be; he was stronger, faster, and healthier in the most unnatural way possible.

His parents were gone, and the abuse went along with them to the depths of Hell. He became a killer and part of a discriminated group of people overnight.

How has he been feeling? Overwhelmed. He was so overwhelmed that he felt nothing.

He shrugged in response and muttered, “I don’t care.”

You hummed. “I will book the first session anyway so you can see how things work. If you don’t feel like talking about anything to a therapist yet, we can wait a little while before we continue.”

“But eventually, I will have to see one, right?” Jungwon asked rhetorically.

You knew what he was trying to say. “Yes. I can only try–“

“Well, don’t,” he cut you off. “Just tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.”

Jungwon pursed his lips to hold down a short quiver of guilt. He had never dared to talk like this and hated that out of everyone, he decided to act like this toward you.

You didn't give him much of a reaction. You only began scribbling words down in your notebook, which he didn't bother to read this time. When you're done, he timidly eyed you as you looked up from the table.

“Okay… this will be it for today. You should get some rest,” you said as you shut your notebook. “Our facility does provide housing services for our clients. If you don’t feel like going home, I can arrange a room for you to live in for the time being.”

Tapping his feet against the ground, he spared less than a second to deny your offer. “No, I’m just going to head home.”

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow then.” You flashed him a small smile. “There should be cabs waiting outside the facility to take you home. They are hired by the center, so don’t worry about paying.”

Jungwon exhaled inwardly at the cue to go home. He stood up, his ears wincing at the chair's squeak against the floor. He stood by your desk momentarily, debating whether to say something.

Anything would do; an apology, a thank you, or a simple farewell. His thoughts scrambled when you looked at him questioningly, and he quickly pulled a face at you before turning around and speeding out of your room.

You blinked in surprise, then you furrowed your brows.

Not even half a minute has passed since you told him about the rules he has to follow, and he has already used his super speed.

The empty apartment felt eerie to him.

Jungwon felt fine still when he unlocked and walked into his home. He was fine still when he closed the door and kicked his shoes off. But as soon as he turned the lights on and faced the grotesque living room, one stained with blood and touched by the hands of law enforcement, he found himself frozen on his spot.

Memories rushed to him now that he stood at the crime scene.

He remembered the pain he felt the first time his features changed. When the blood in his veins ran dark, his eyes clouded with a foggy haze, causing him to stumble about as his direction was guided only by the smell of blood.

When his teeth grew out of his gums to create fangs, his injuries healed simultaneously as his body broke itself down to accommodate his new identity. He had been sweating with a body heat rivaling that of the sun.

His drunk father probably couldn’t see his face clearly when he advanced toward him at a superhuman speed, only that he saw a beastly boy and determined that the boy must be his son.

Never once in his eyes has Jungwon ever been precious or lovely. The Jungwon who was suffering and the Jungwon who had blood drenching his skin was how his son had always been to him. Then, the creature attacked him.

What did his mother look like? Jungwon blocked that part out more carefully than he blocked out the sight of his father. His mother was not ugly.

He loved his mother, and she had been pretty despite the horror. He wished she didn’t have to suffer under his fangs, even though he did suffer by her drunken and fearful hands. She was probably scared of him in her last moments, though. He was sure her final thought was that her son would kill her.

Jungwon choked out in pain when he felt his eyes shimmer over with blood. He barely noticed his emotions boiling beneath his chest until they burst. The tears were pushed out of them when the blood took up all the spaces in his eyes, rolling down to his opened mouth and evaporating under the pierce of his fangs.

He was turning again, and he despised it. He despised himself.

“No! Stop it!” He shouted at himself as he doubled over and covered his face, only to pull his hands back when his fangs pierced through the base of his palm. “Stop it! You fucking idiot, stop turning!”

Disastrous child! Foul child! Your parents should have killed you when they had the chance!

They almost did it on multiple occasions, haven’t they? Where did that hatred and fear go, Jungwon? Did they go into the strength of your hands when you broke your mother’s wrist? Did they go into the pearl white of your fangs when you drained your father’s blood?

You murderous child! Death shall be upon you!

"Stop–help me! Please–it hurts–ughm!" He curled himself into a ball on the ground and immediately turned his face away when he smelt the residue of his parent's blood on the wood floor.

"It hurts! It hurts–help–ah!" He stood up quickly and ran into the nearby wall, breaking a hole through the weak barriers.

His forehead healed immediately, but he was able to relish in the fleeting pain. Death should be upon him—he did it again. The pain was still brief.

When everything was gone, his exhaustion prevented him from hurting himself again. Instead, he slowly slid to the ground. He pulled his legs to his chest, eyes glimmering with tears as he hiccuped uncontrollably. He cried and cried and cried, his sorrow drowning and suffocating with no way out.

He stared at the spot where he held his dead father's hand, lips mumbling apologies that he would never accept. Then, a sudden calmness descended upon him.

It was a voice in his head or something of an intention. A knowledge that popped into him in the form of vampiric instincts, signaling that there was something he could do to immediately take all his pain away. Something that could take everything away.

It was not death nor healing. It was a quick and easy escape. In his mind, that notion was like a beacon of light; all he had to do was reach it.

His fangs retreating was the one thing that snapped him out of his trance. He furrowed his brows in confusion, unsure of what that fleeting thought was despite how tempting it was to touch it. He should ask Jay before giving into it.

Jungwon let out shallow breaths as he stood up, not sparing another glance at the living room when he turned around. He left the apartment and closed the door, locking it behind him. But, instead of leaving his home, he sat down on the doormat and decided to stay the night there.

#enhypen x y/n #enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung x yn #heeseung x you #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader

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strawberryforks · 2 days ago

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slipping smiles//tim bradford x reader

reckless smiles adjacent (call fic)

warnings: you could have died, swearing, animal-in-danger, no beta we die like my sleep schedule

a/n: writing calls is surprisingly fun! SORRY for the (definite) inconsistencies. asks are open! dedicated to @scenesofobx because your comments have made my day <33 enjoy!

You’re dressed in a cute little workout outfit. Leggings, a cropped skintight long sleeve top with thumb-holes, overtop of that a gray sweater, and over that, a puffer vest that you leave open because it’s not as cold as you thought it would be. The vest you realize, might be a little extra, but you’re already committed now, halfway to your favourite taco truck. It’s your day off and since you can’t just do nothing, you’ve decided to go on a jog. It’s around lunchtime (you’re headed to get yours) and you pick this time purposely—you’re a cop, you’ve seen a lot. Enough that you don’t go running when it’s dark out and when there aren’t other people around—12PM ensures witnesses and sunlight and since you’re jogging on a sidewalk in the suburbs; in a relatively wealthy neighborhood, you don’t expect anything to happen. You run this route often and know that in a little bit, you’ll run across a bridge, that the small lake running underneath will be frost kissed, reflecting sun back at you. You know you might stop to take a picture—what you don’t know is that the group you’re nearing, jogging towards, are buying.

Up ahead, a man with a hood pulled down, obscuring his face passes a brick—not a baggy, a brick—of something into the hands of another man, this one wearing a ball cap and baggy jeans, sans face covering. You reach for your off-duty weapon and the badge you keep tucked into your wallet. “LAPD, hands in the air!”

Because nothing is easy and karma is against you, all hell breaks loose. Two of the guys pull out their guns, one shoots bullet after bullet in quick succession—you dive out of the way, ducking behind a grey civic that acts as a shield, absorbing bullets so you don’t have to. The other two start running and dammit, those ones are the guys who brought the drugs. The ones you really need in custody. You dial 911 and give your general address, you give your name and badge number, “10-57, requesting backup,” then you hangup. You call Chen—knowing she should be patrolling in the area; that she usually does, at least. “Hey! Pursuing armed suspects or about to… would love some help. Drug deal gone—“ and then you hear dispatch regurgitating your earlier words, hear her TO accept the call and then you’re shooting back, running behind other cars paralell parked on the sides of the road, using them as cover, and darting after the two escaping. A bullet whizzes past your side—you turn and bury one in the shooters shoulder. The other man, you shoot in the hand, causing his gun to go flying. Then you’re sprinting after the two. Distantly you hear sirens. Up ahead, alongside the criminals, is a scraggly looking stray. A cop car skids to a halt on the other side of the men, Chen and Bishop jumping out, guns raised. The criminals are now paused atop the bridge, looking at you like they’re planning to go through you, like it's the easier option now that the cavalry has arrived. You approach, another car sliding behind you. This one, Tim Bradford climbs out of, looking like the soldier he was—dangerous, determined. “It’s over! Interlace your hands behind your head!” you shout. The two men, both shot by you, are already stuffed into the backseat of a shop, headed for hospital before they’re to be booked.

The criminals are outnumbered and outgunned. They raise their hands slowly, fingers splaying, guns clattering to the ground and you approach, wrenching brick-boy’s hands behind his back, your own outstretched, waiting for a pair of cuffs to be thrown into them. Tim passes you a pair and you shove the restrained criminal towards your TO, past the cowering stray who the asshole swipes his foot at. The criminal kicks the dog who yelps and is knocked under the guardrail. You shove him harder then, forcing him to his knees in front of officer Bradford as you throw yourself at the fence, peering over where you see water. The dog fell through the thin layer of ice. You see him paddle up once, twice, and then he dips under again. Comeon, comeoncomeoncomeon, you plead. He doesn’t surface. Tim Bradford’s the last person you look at, the one who reaches for you as you vault over the guardrail and take the plunge yourself.

The water is cold. So cold that it seems to slow time down. Everything takes an extra minute, everything slowed as your eyes shoot open, blinking to adjust to the feeling of wetness against them. Underwater, you paddle, spinning around, looking for the dog. You see him, his little legs are frantic, pawing against the water. Still holding your breath, cheeks puffed up, full of air you’re losing faster than you’d like, you make large strides and close the distance between you and the pup. With the dog in your arms you try to surface. A layer of cold glass stops you. You bang your fist against it—breakbreakbreak. Weighed down by panic you climb along the underneath, looking for the crater you fell through. You claw your way to the hole in the ice and the dog surfaces before you do because you stick your hands out, up in the air, and pump your legs as quickly as you can. Your head breaches the water and you grab the ledge of the ice, wincing, terrified, when it gives way, only widening the break in the ice. You push the dog up onto the ice—the solid kind, and watch as it coughs up the cold water you’re still in. The cold water that’s feeling less cold. It's not the water, you know, it’s just you feeling less. Your feet are numb, your hands too. People are shouting but it still feels like you’re underwater. Still feels like something’s blocking your ears. Vaguely, as you attempt to pull yourself onto the ice you see flashing lights. Cop ones, ones from LAFD vehicles, too. There’s an ambulance here—as much for you as the men you shot, if only you could make it to them. If only. You’re getting tired. Sounds blur together, sensations, and colours too. You’re cocooned in a haze, a fog that just keeps getting thicker and thicker. A voice breaks it.

“Boot!” snaps Bradford. He’s closer than the others, you think. “Look at me,” he demands. You do, of course you do. He’s lying on the ice, body weight dispersed over a larger part of it so nothing shatters and he’s reaching out for you. There’s a few blurs behind him, firefighters, you think, telling—yelling at him, but all you can focus on is the words he’s saying. “Focus!”

You do your best.

“I need you to grab my arm. I’ll pull you up,” his hand is reaching towards your own and even though you can place your fingers—can’t feel them, you watch them carefully, making sure you direct your hand into his. Then, Tim pulls you from the water, sliding you along beside him and shifting so you’re between his legs, his forearms wrapped around your chest, holding you tightly. You’re shaking—still are, as two LAFD members drag Tim backwards to the bank, you with him. They take you from him and you didn’t fight his hold but you squirm in theirs, remembering the reason you took the ice-bath in the first place: the dog. “They’re going to help you,” Tim says, “you need to get warmed up.”

Your teeth clash with each other brutally in agreeance but you shake your head. “The d-dog. I-I have to get him, make sure he’s okay.”

Tim shakes his head incredulously. You don’t budge, insistent as ever and finally he relents. “I’ll get the damn dog. You, get warmed up. Listen to them.”

The dog would be okay, Tim would make sure of it—he’d take it to the vet himself, pay the bills, buy it a fucking sweater. Tim would do anything as long as you get seen by the paramedics because your lips were blue and he was terrified.

He hides that fear under a scowl as he searches for the pup and pulls him into his arms. The dog is small—a scraggly chihuahua mix of some kind—and he’s just as cold as you; a little less, thanks to the matted fur he’s covered in. Tim unzipped his jacket and wrapped the dog in it, then he headed up the bank to check on you. You, who had been ushered into the back of the ambulance and despite your assurances, “I’m fine, I’m fine, just a little chilly. Guys, this really isn’t necessary, I could warm up just as easily at home—“ shut in. A woman climbed into the driver's seat, her partner in the back with you and the doors were wrenched open a second time, your TO and the stray in his arms joining you. “I’m riding with her,” he tells the paramedics. He sits down on one of the small half-benches. “You’re okay?”

“Is the dog?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll take him to the vet to be sure but he seems okay. Now, Boot, answer.”

“I’m okay, just a little cold and sore. Don’t take him to the shelter after the vet. I’ll pay the bill just let me know how much.”

“You want to adopt him?”

“Yeah, I could use a roommate.”

#the rookie fanfic #tim bradford x reader #the rookie x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #fanfic asks #send asks

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ilysungho · 3 days ago

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you did THE BEST writing the sub leehan drabble and i can't stop thinking about how ihan would be if he suddenly found out he had mommy kink...

as if you were touching him after he has been needing you all afternoon since he couldn't see you and as a result of the pleasure, out of nowhere he is calling you mommy and whining like a baby pleading for more

I think that even he would be surprised by what he says but he couldn't stop begging OH GOD IT DRIVES ME CRAZY RNNN I NEED IT

If you can do something like that I would really appreciate it 🥲🥲

pd: I really love your work, you are one of my favorite writers ily😭😭♡

a/n: you’re so sweet thank you so much for loving my work, it makes me so happy to hear that 🥹 honestly i’ve been warming up to mommy kinks (just jaehyun and taesan so far) so i tried… also this might've turned out to be way longer than intended so enjoy cutie 💗 wc: 1k contains: sub!leehan x dom!reader, implied switch!leehan, mommy kink leehan, marking, handjob, riding, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (don't!), creampie, lowercase intended

almost a month passed by without seeing your boyfriend around. practice ran late into the night, leehan just staying at the dorms for the time being. he had to be up early, barely getting any sleep, and had no time to talk to you. so when he was able to finally finish with performances, of course he clung to you like a baby koala.

you played with his hair while softly kissing the top of his head, leehan nuzzling into you under your touch. questions and answers about how life had been got exchanged, with him closing his eyes at your voice. he found comfort in the warmth of your tone, one that he missed the sound of so dearly. and as he started to feel sleepy, his answers eventually turned into mumbles of soft hmm-s and mhm-s.

at the lack of responses, you stopped practically interrogating him, instead resorting to kissing his face. your lips touched every part of him so softly as you faced him to show your love. he smiled his signature smile, the one where his eyes scrunch into crescents, resembling the moon in a beautiful night sky. as much as he loved to make you feel special, he loved to be taken care of. so he let you do as you wanted, to help him fill up on the love he'd been deprived of.

the kisses never stopped, trailing down to his jawline as your hands reached behind his back to rub it gently. he could feel every touch to his core, slowly but surely starting to get needy for you. it was when you kissed down his neck onto his sweet spot that he said it: “mommy…”

his voice was quiet by firm, but you let go of your position to stare at him. “what did you say?”

the sudden change in the atmosphere had the two of you confused but also… excited. he was never one to call you by said term, but at the moment it felt so right. but if you didn’t like it, then he just might’ve ruined the mood…

“n-nothing, don’t worry.” his embarrassed face came on as he tried to deny in, but you took his hand to intertwine your fingers. leaning down to kiss that spot once again, you muttered, “‘s ok, say whatever you wanna.”

the indirect acceptance of the new nickname had him going. to describe it, he felt like it was the only right term to use at the moment, and he surprisingly liked how it sounded out of his mouth. but you did have to get used to it, and what better way than to have him call you so for now?

your kissing turned into marking, leaving pink hues on the pale canvas. the tug of your teeth on his sensitive skin made him whimper, scared to call you by the name again. you kept going though, wanting to hear him call you so, sucking a bit harder to leave deeper reds.

“take your shirt off baby.” you got up to take your own shirt off, him following suit. he bit his lips as you pushed him back down on the bed, going back to marking his now revealed chest. your free hand moved up to his nipples, touching over them and causing him to gasp.

you looked up at him as your lips reached down to the other nipple, kissing around it. he nervously returned the eye contact, scared for what will happen next. your mouth wrapped around it now, licking and sucking on the new territory. this had leehan squirming under you, the sensitivity hitting him at once as he moaned out once again.

“mommy…” you smirked against his chest as you played with his nipples, something he’d always do when the roles were reversed. your continued attention on his sensitive buds had him whining under you until you let go, sitting up beside him.

“come put your head here, my good boy.” leehan gasped at the nickname as he watched you pat on your lap, inching closer to obey your order. he nervously watched as you raised an eyebrow and pushed down the bra cups to show your boobs, slightly leaning down for him. “now suck.”

his tongue immediately wrapped around your nipple, hands flying to engulf you in a hug. your one hand stayed on leehan’s hair to stroke it as your other removed the rest of his clothes for him. lying naked while sucking your boobs, your leehan looked really cute while being all desperate for you. you hummed out praises for him continuously while also stroking his dick now. and every now and then, leehan would let go to let out the softest yet most exasperated sighs accompanied by calling you mommy.

“you’re being such a good boy for mommy, hanie.” smiling down at him, he hid his face between your chest while nodding, blushing at how you called yourself so. your thumb slid across his slit, hissing following suit. fingers tangled in his blond locks as you slowly rubbed him, his throat now leaving moans of desperation freely. your boyfriend jerked against your hand as he sucked your nipples once again. all the shame and shyness left his body at this point, not caring what he did or said. and all he needed was you to take control.

"mommy please, i need more..." he moaned softly while continuing his actions. a hum followed, with you moving him to get up and on top of him. your sweet smile accompanied by your not-so-sweet actions made leehan squirm under you as you held onto his dick. the slick between the two of you formed quite enough to help him ease into you, causing both lovers to gasp in unison. you moved slowly at first, bottoming out every time before getting back up and going down on him once again.

leehan whimpered as he caught onto your hand, the pleasure getting to his emotions as his eyes teared up. any and every kind of sound erupted from his chest, louder than the previous as he begged you for more. he let out hymns of "faster please mommy," "please, harder mommy, please," "mommy please," "mommy, mommy, mommy!" until he came undone in you, his seed spilling out as you kept riding his pretty cock, which is just for his mommy.

#ilysungho #ilysh writes #ilysh leehan #boynextdoor hard hours #boynextdoor #boynextdoor hard thoughts #bnd x reader #bnd #bnd smut #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor leehan #leehan #leehan boynextdoor #leehan smut #leehan x reader #leehan hard thoughts #leehan hard hours #leehan headcanons

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thiccpersonality · 1 day ago

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5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

2: The Gala

Bruce doesn't really like parties, he's not prone to throwing them nor is he likely to go to them, especially with all the loudness, the music and...the people. Which is quite redundant to say as a party is made up of people--anyway, Bruce hates parties, more specifically: useless parties around people he either doesn't know or doesn't like-and for what? Just to watch and wait as the guests flock around him like birds to a lone breadcrumb? Just to wait on them to kiss his ass?

Plus, the omega doesn't need parties when he's got his hands full with a loud one named Jason, and in Bruce's unbiased opinion, his new pup is the best party he's ever witnessed.

An excited yip pulls Bruce from his brooding, the displeased scrunch of his brow smoothing out to look relaxed, his frown turning up to a happy smile at the sight of Jason posing in his new suit. "How do I look, B? Good you say? I know. Thank you." A humored rumble escapes from Bruce's throat, the sight of the pup's messily done tie causing the omega to frown and pull Jason closer to him. "You do look good, very good, great even. Your tie is just-" Bruce raises a brow at small teeth gently digging into his fingers, Jason growling in a way that he thinks is intimidating, but in fact is just adorably soft and squeaky...like a puppy trying to bark for the first time.

"But Alfred said I could tie it on my own. And I thought you said I looked good?"

At Jason's imploring look, Bruce just sighs softly in defeat. "Yes, very good, great even is what I said-"

Jason smiles and interrupts the omega again, nuzzling into the other's chest and looking up at him with satisfied baby blue's. "So...were you lying to me, mom?"

Those two words seem to do the trick for Bruce, the omega melting at the cute display and nuzzling his pup's head and neck. "No...I wasn't lying to you. You look really good, and I mean that. Your tie isn't bad at all-" he pulls away to look at the tie, beating down his instincts to clean the messy loops up in favor of smiling at it-"it just has character."

Jason gives a toothy smile and puffs his chest out proudly while patting the tie.

"His name is Rick Astley."

Bruce can't help but to chuckle in surprise at the name, "You mean...like the singer, Rick Astley?" At Jason's enthusiastic nod, he decides to give the pup what he wants and ask him why choose that name. "And of all the names you could choose, you chose Rick becaaaause?"

"Because I never gave up on this tie!"

Jason smiles happily at the genuine laugh he pulls from the usually stoic omega-his mom. "I thought you'd like that one! I've been working on that since I asked to tie this thing myself. I'll be here on Thursdays." Bruce covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile, it's something he always feels embarrassed about, especially as he's used to fake smiling anyway...he never expected to laugh this much when adopting children. "So, you'll only be here on Thursdays? I thought you liked this place enough to stay with me?"

Even though it's just a joke, Jason can't help but to get defensive at the mere thought of leaving Bruce's side, the death of his biological mother still too fresh in his mind and causing him to hug onto the omega's leg tightly. "I love it! I feel safe here and no one can take me away!"

The slightly distressed scent coming from Jason causes Bruce to churr softly, the sound immediately causing the younger to slump in relief, the boy's eyes closing at the feeling of fingers gently gliding through his hair. "Shh~ I know, Jay, I know. No one could ever take you away...I wouldn't allow it, you hear me?" A small knock on his bedroom door causes Bruce to sigh softly, "We'll be right out, Alfred-" he stops to turn to Jason, fixing his pup's hair one last time and holding back a smile at the child's displeased grumble at being doted on-"Are you sure that you're ready? You don't have to go out there if you aren't comfortable yet."

It's been something gone unspoken all evening, but Bruce knows Jason is nervous to go out there to people who are nothing like him. Especially as they are the same people who would turn their noses up at the sight of kids like Jay, thinking they are better than them just cause they have lavish lives and the money to flaunt around whenever, that's something the omega knows his pup has been cautious about ever since he told the boy he's hosting an event.

And it's with humor and corny jokes that the pup has been hiding behind this whole time, all to not let Bruce know just how scared this is making him.

Jason-as per usual-just smiles wide and straightens his suit jacket with small, clammy hands. "What? You just want to keep me all to yourself? I was born ready, B. Let's go!" Bruce watches his pup slip out the door and immediately show Alfred his tie with pride, desiring to desperately answer, 'yes', he wants to keep his baby all to himself because he's selfish and desperate in the presence of Jason's mischievous grins and sincere laughs, that he's greedy for that piece of light in his life. So desperate that he wants to hoard it all to himself like a dragon with its most prized treasure.

Because, if Bruce feels like he doesn't deserve a son like Jason, he knows that none of those suck ups out there deserve to even be anywhere near Jason's innocence.

————°————

Lois looks at her wristwatch impatiently for the thousandth time in a row, causing Clark to sigh exasperatedly at his friend. "Lo, no matter how many times you glance at the time, it won't make it go by any faster."

The female omega clicks her tongue impatiently, "No duh! But maybe if I do, our very special host might appear quicker?" She glances at her watch once more, looking back up expectantly towards the staircase. "Has he arrived yet? Do you see him, Kent? Why is he even taking this long-" Clark opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by Lois answering her own question-"I bet it's a power move, huh? He's doing this to show how we wait for him and not the other way around. Rich kids, am I right?"

Clark pushes up his glasses to distract himself from covering up the woman's mouth, his ears flushing in embarrassment on Lois's behalf at the socialites that look their way for her outburst.

"Shh! Be a little more quiet when...stating your opinion, maybe? And Mr. Wayne is only taking so long because he's introducing his new pup tonight, you know how protective he was about Richard Grayson. Why wouldn't he be about this one?" Lois softens at the mention of Bruce's eldest child, "Oh yeah...I forgot about that. Do you think this kid will be just as cute as the other one? I've heard some speculators say that this new pup looks similar to Bruce and Richard, they are convinced that our gracious omega host is the one actually giving birth to these pups himself and he just doesn't remember who the father is."

"Lois-" Clark grumbles in displeasure at the piece of gossip, doing his best to keep the alpha out of his tone-"Those are just rumors and gossip as far as you know--and, I don't want to hear about how 'I know his reputation'. Someone that dedicated to their kids surely doesn't sleep around that much."

At his friend's prolonged silence, he turns to look at her, blushing red at the raised brow he gets. "I-I mean...not saying that he can't not sleep around. I just-"

Lois snorts and pats Clark on the back, "Stop putting your foot in your mouth. You're up to the heel. And I get what you're saying, okay? I was only stating what I read and heard from different people, and despite how harsh I was with Bruce at first, after seeing him with his family...I don't believe those rumors anymore."

Clark rolls his eyes, "By: 'after seeing him with family,' do you actually mean, 'when I saw how the papers don't do his face justice?' That was when you started to not believe the rumors?"

Lois's impish smile is answer enough for Clark, the beta simply sighing the woman's name in exasperated fondness.

The two turn back to looking in anticipation at the staircase, Clark slowly frowning at realizing how casually Lois referred to Bruce, what is that about? But before he can turn to ask her about it, the crowd of reporters push ahead of them at the sight of Bruce Wayne, their cameras flashing and voices rising as they each try to get the omega's attention, Lois shouting above all of them towards Jimmy. "Push harder, Olsen, harder! Get the good spot!"

"Aaand I lost her." Clark watches as Lois claws her way to Jimmy's side, helping the timid beta make his way to the very front.

That's fine. Clark will patiently wait his turn until things are calmed down enough for him to approach Bruce without the fear of being pushed around...of course he can't be hurt, but the thought of accidentally hurting someone with his super strength stresses him out, so waiting the eager reporters out it is.

Luckily enough, the crowd seems to have learned some sort of lesson from the last incident when they startled the omega in the desperation to catch pictures of his new pup, the photographers standing at a decent enough distance as they snap their pic's, their eyes practically shining at the sight of the small pup holding onto Bruce's hand and curiously lifting his head to sniff out who exactly is in the crowd. Everyone grows quiet at the omega's protective glare being shot to the crowd, a tingle shooting down Clark's spine at the feeling of déjà vu the look gives him.

Bruce ignores the loud click of the cameras as he bends down to whisper to the pup, his voice a soothing rumble. "Jay, do you want me to introduce you?"

Jason squeezes onto the warm hand in his own cool one's, stepping out from Bruce's side with a wide smile, his hands lifting to rest on his hips as he uses all the confidence he witnesses his mom having to lift up his nose to the sky as if he owns the place, as if he belongs here around everyone else. "Nice to meetcha folks! I'm Jason Peter Todd!" The crowd goes silent before pushing forward slightly to ask Jason questions, the pup posing for the cameras while Bruce looks on in a mix of fondness, pride and worry, he still doesn't trust the media fully after all these years.

Vicki Vale manages to push herself forward at the same time Lois Lane does, the two glaring at each other before turning to smile at Jason sweetly.

"A word from you Mr. Todd?"

Lois taps her foot impatiently at Vicki beating her to the request, the boy turning to them and sniffing at them curiously. "They put ya in a suit and suddenly you are known as Mr-" the pup holds his hand up in a 'wait' gesture, tugging on his suit and clearing his throat-"Please, ladies, Mr was my father. Call me Jason...or cute, I wouldn't mind the latter from you beauties."

Vicki and Lois look at each other humored, both remembering their professionalism even though they wish to ask the boy exactly who his father is.

"Well, these beauties definitely wouldn't mind having a word with you-" Lois looks up at Bruce with a relaxed smile-"that is...if your mom wouldn't mind us asking you a couple questions? I'm sure...Ms. Vale and I can share you for a couple minutes? Again, if Mr. Wayne doesn't mind?" Jason looks excited at the thought of talking to them, a questioning call slipping from his throat to easily catch Bruce's attention, the omega responding with his own answering chirp. "Jason? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

The boy nods quickly, causing his waves to bounce wildly around on his head despite how many times Bruce has tried to smooth it down to something tameable. "They wanna ask me questions, can I go with them?"

Bruce stands next to his son's side, placing his hands gently on the small shoulders as he nods his head in greeting of the two women. "Vicki, Lois, it's nice to see you both here tonight-" his eyes rove over the women distrustfully, even though he knows he can trust these two with his pup, he still can't help the protective instincts that come about whenever anyone is near his kids-"I'm glad you could make it. You...want to ask him questions?"

Lois nods, "If you'll allow us to? I know you gotta make your rounds greeting everyone first, but, we were hoping to get a word from the new guy-" purple eyes search the room briefly before focusing back on Bruce-"Speaking of guys, where's Richard? The media would be eating him up about now, and I'm sure he could watch over Jason while we talk to him." The mention of the eldest Wayne causes Jason to pout, "He has these things called...responsibilities and obligations right now, for some reason? I asked him to come tonight but he's doing school stuff and 'friend' things right now."

Bruce chuckles at Jason quoting 'friends' and murmuring something about stupid older brother's, his hands gently fixing up the boy's hair as he speaks. "Well, Dickybird will be here for plenty future events, and do you really want him here right now? He would enjoy embarrassing you in front of everyone."

Jason blushes and bats Bruce's deft fingers away from his hair, "Yeah...just like you're doin' to me right now?" He grumbles in embarrassment, never knowing how to treat the omega's affections openly in front of other people, especially in this sort of crowd...he doesn't want them to think Bruce chose wrong when taking him off the streets, he just wants to prove how good he is and can be. "So, can I go with them or not? I can bring Alfie with me!" Bruce hesitates, sighing softly at the insistent tugging on his pant leg. "Pretty, pretty, pretty please!? With a Jason on top!"

Bruce raises an amused brow, "Why a Jason on top? You know it's usually cherry, right?"

The pup nods, "Cause you like me better than cherries. That's why."

Hm...he can't exactly argue with that. Bruce turns to find Alfred, holding back a shout as the alpha materializes from thin air right next to him, smiling softly at his son. "Don't worry, sir. I'll keep a good eye on the young Master for you, shall we head along?" Jason squeaks happily and kisses Bruce's hand in thanks before tugging Vicki and Lois along, loudly asking about how his tie looks as they take their conversation to the dessert table.

As soon as the small group leaves his side, Bruce inhales deeply, preparing himself for the vultures he already knows will flock to him like birds to a worm. Smiling charmingly at the cameras, even going so far as to blow a kiss at another.

"Mr. Wayne, what is your eldest son doing tonight!?"

"Mr. Wayne, how attached do you feel to tonights event!?"

"Mr. Wayne, who exactly are Richard and Jason's fathers? Are they biologically related or only half?"

"Mr. Wayne-"

Their voices start to blend together as the stupid questions start rolling in. Now that Lois and Vicki took the professionalism out the room with them, Bruce curses his fate as he's left with only the gossip hungry leeches, not headstrong people like Lane and Vale who actually care about their work and-

Bruce blinks away the spots in his vision from the bright flashes at the sight of a very tall, very imposing man-reporter, maybe?-that is patiently standing behind the rambunctious media.

Hm...his curiosity has been piqued.

Especially as something in his chest scratches in familiarity at the sight of this random reporter-or who he hopes is a reporter-and his lost puppy kind of look. There's something that is oddly endearing about this man and Bruce wants to find out why.

"Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, but I would like to talk to..." Bruce draws out his words, making a show of his 'indecisiveness' as he looks over the group of reporters, biting his lip in thought as he evaluates them all, slowly reaching further back in the group until his eyes land on his target."You! The man with the-" he squints his eyes at the sight of elbow patches, scrunching his nose in distaste at the sight of elbow patches, who the crap does that anymore?-"elbow patches."

Clark adjusts his glasses on his face nervously, a habit he's taken to over the years that he finds oddly comforting when he feels embarrassed about something.

"Uh...me?"

Bruce smiles, flashing a bit of his omegan fangs as he does so at the nerves radiating from this man, looking more like a predator with its prey rather than the thoughtful host Clark thought he was. "Yes, you. Don't look around for someone to replace you, I want you and only you. What? Do you not want to talk to me?"

Clark flushes red at the words, and from the way Mr. Wayne's eyes seem to pierce into his soul with how...icy they look. Not in a bad way, but the color makes Clark feel like every inhale is like breathing in a breath mint, maybe and Altoid due to the strength of it? Ah! When did the omega get so close to him? Clark does his best not to breath in the shorter man's alluring scent, his face growing redder at the interested sniff the omega directs at him. "Well?"

Right.

Mr. Wayne is deserving of an explanation...I guess?

"O-Of course it'd be delightful to speak to you, Mr. Wayne. Do you have somewhere more-"

Bruce pulls away from him suddenly with a surprised look, shaking his head softly and messing with his shirt cuffs with an amused smirk stretching his lips. "Metropolis...I should've known that's where you'd be from. Though the people there are usually more forward, aren't they?"

Clark's eyebrows furrow at the comment, what's wrong with Metropolis? But before he can answer the question, Bruce cuts him off again.

"Like one Ms. Lois Lane, for example. Though-" icy blue eyes rake up and down the tall figure, his eyes stopping at the press badge clipped to the fashion disaster that is...Clark Kent's suit-"I detect a hint of farm boy in your tone? So, maybe not from Metropolis?" Bruce presses in closer to try and catch a scent from Clark, casting aside his growing disappointment as the man doesn't smell like alpha as he suspected, just mothballs and innocence.

"Smallville."

Bruce looks up at the beta, immediately regretting it as he's met with the deepest blue gaze he thinks he's ever seen on a person, do eyes even get to be that color?

It feels as if Bruce is looking into the night sky...not that he knows what that's like, living in Gotham and all. But, if he could, he could imagine it being like this, the reflection of light in Clark's eyes reminding him of twinkling stars up above.

Bruce looks away suddenly, cursing the heated feeling in his ears and spreading to his cheeks, he hopes it's not visible? Though with how pale he is...he can't imagine hiding the blush.

Well, this is stupid.

Bruce feels like abandoning his self proclaimed mission at his own reaction towards Clark, though...there really is something familiar about the other man, and he can't place his carefully manicured nails on it.

Fine. He supposes he can bring out the bit of professionalism Brucie Wayne shows sometimes, only because he has no desire to tease the poor beta anymore and definitely not because he's feeling shy. "Right...I've...never been to Smallville before. Why don't we talk about it more this way." Clark startles at the hand gently wrapping around his elbow and tugging him over to French doors that lead to a balcony, looking over his shoulder as the omega quickly searches for someone and scents the air before stepping outside.

Clark relaxes himself and allows his senses to spread out, his nose twitching frantically to smell exactly what Bruce did.

Expensive colognes, sweet smelling perfumes, natural scents coming from both alpha, beta and omegas alike-ah, there it is! Something slightly milky with a hint of baby oil and spice, a pup that's trying to develop their own scent but still in the puppy stage.

"Your son-Jason, that is-seems really sweet."

Bruce's scent turns pleased at the compliment, releasing Clark's arm and turning to give him a genuine smile that is all proud mama. "He is! And he's very smart too, he enjoys reading books that not even I read at his age, I'm very honored to be his parent." Clark feels himself softening up at the genuineness on the omega's face, at the love in his tone, that feeling from before growing stronger for some reason at the other's affection towards Jason.

"So, Smallville?"

Clark pushes up his glasses and smiles, "Yup! It's a small town, but it's peaceful and has genuine people in it, s'more than I could ever ask for."

At Bruce's nose scrunching up again-a little trait Clark is quickly noticing about the other that he's finding adorable-he can't help but to question the man. "What? Did I say something funny? I don't think growing up in Smallville is that funny, farms may stink to high Heavens, but they sure are fun and teach you the importance of hard work."

Bruce shakes his head and covers his twitching lips with his hand, "No...your accent slipped and is just...amusing? But in a cute way! You said 's'more', aren't s'mores those little snacks you squish between your fingers?"

Now it's Clark that looks at Bruce like he said the funniest thing. "Are you being serious? You've never heard of a s'more?"

The omega rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, "Obviously I've heard of them. I wouldn't mention it if I've never heard of it, Kent, I was just making sure I had it right-" his brow twitches at the full blown smile the beta gives, coupled with a deep chuckle-"I don't think that's funny. If I can't laugh at your farm life, you can't laugh at me for not having a s'more. After all, it teaches you the importance of eating healthy foods."

The offended gasp escaping Clark's lips causes Bruce to look over his shoulder for what could have brought out that sound, the taller pulling out his recorder and waving it in his face.

"You've never eaten s'mores!? I think that's worse than never hearing of one! You mind if I interview you about this?" Bruce huffs at the defensive tone, his chest being tickled with humor at the other wanting to interview him about a snack he's never had before. "I don't think I mind? But, shouldn't you reporters be asking me about tonights event? Getting the reason for it and why I hosted this specific one? Don't your people usually poke at me about my kids?"

Clark sets down his recorder after switching it on, raising an inquiring brow at the omega. "Is me asking you questions about your family something that interests you? From what I gathered, you hated my people asking you about your pups, almost just as much as you get tired of hearing us ask you are you dating Batman."

At Bruce's irritated grumble, Clark smiles and gently guides the other closer to the tape recorder, not noticing just how much the simple touch effects the smaller man.

"Good evening Mr. Wayne, thank you for inviting me here tonight and accepting this interview. There have been some crazy rumors out there-" Clark has to pause to whisper to the other about not laughing, his heart pounding at the happy scent wafting from Bruce-"that you've never heard of s'mores. Would you care to clear those accusations up?"

Bruce sighs softly, not believing he's playing along with this, but clearing his throat and answering with all the seriousness he can muster into his voice.

"Yes, Mr. Kent, I would like to address those rumors about me...because they just aren't true. I have heard of s'mores before, it's just that I haven't ever eaten them." Clark hums, "Would you care to elaborate on why that is? Some people out there would think you never tasting it as worse than never knowing about it, what do you say to those people who could possibly feel that way?"

"Hm? Are one of those people from the Midwest? Cause if so, I'd tell him that there's worse things in this life than me not eating junk."

Clark's offended, 'hey', causes Bruce to grin. "Well, if there happened to be some lovely gentlemen from the Midwest who felt that way, I think he would politely disagree with you...even though you are technically right-" The word 'technically' causes Bruce to sputter, "What do you mean by that!? You just said you-I mean, this man 'technically' agrees with me by you stating I'm right. He's been around animal sh-poop for too long, it's causing him to spew crap from his mouth."

"Technically-" Clark smirks teasingly down at the smaller-"I said, technically. That's not out right admitting you are in the right."

Bruce narrows his eye at the taller man's beautifully smug smirk, "Do you not know what the word technically means? Technically: according to the facts or exact meaning of something; strictly. That's what that word means, so, 'technically' you and this Midwestern-ahem-gentleman are agreeing with me."

Clark freezes at that itching feeling returning to his mind, the scratching feeling of close familiarity this argument brings to him.

There's someone else he knows that takes simple jokes like this and turns them into mini battles, but-"Kent? Hellooo? Did a chicken escape the coop in there?"

Clark frowns at the omega shutting off his recorder, "Why did you turn that off? I was interviewing you."

Bruce holds the device in his hand, suddenly looking shy and embarrassed, his smile awkward as he fiddles with the metal tool. "Well, you were pausing for five seconds too long for an interview. And-" he glances away-"don't you think this was a bit silly of us? I'm not supposed to answer questions like this...no one even asks these kinds of things anyway, they're too...trivial for my work."

Clark steps closer to the omega, reaching out to grab the recorder from the shorter, finding himself daring enough to stay in the other's personal space while his hand rests in the smaller one. "Why is asking you about things you may enjoy trivial? Have you ever thought no one cares enough about the simple things you do? It makes you seem...more approachable, Mr. Wayne." Bruce feels like his heart is trying to fly out of his chest at how close they are, his cheeks growing a soft pink at the sincerity from the other. "I-I...I'm not usually supposed to be approachable, Mr. Kent. Not unless I want something."

Clark sucks in his gasp at how close Bruce's face is, it would be so easy to bend down and kiss those pink lips...but that wouldn't be professional, would it?

"And...what do you want from me, Mr. Wayne?"

At Bruce's shocked look, Clark gives a small smirk. "You didn't think I noticed you looking through the audience of determined reporters? I saw you already look at me before acting like you were indecisive about who you wanted to interview you. You were going to pick me the whole time."

Bruce purses his lips at being caught, though his inner omega is fascinated by how smart this potential mate random stranger is to notice such small details.

"What would Mr. Wayne say to the Midwestern man who wants to know what tonight's special host wants? Especially from a reporter trying to blend into the crowd."

Bruce can't help the entertained smile as-even though it's not turned on anymore-the recorder is pushed up to his mouth. "I...you were being still-" at the beta's intrigued look, he continues-"Do you know how rare it is to see someone who isn't trying to crawl all over someone else just to get the scoop on Bruce Thomas Wayne? You looked like the calm in the midst of a very bothersome, very loud storm, Mr. Kent. So...what I wanted was to...see who you are."

Clark stares down into icy blue eyes, being drawn further into the crystalline gaze, swallowing down the urge to call out to this wonderful omega with his own alpha and whispering softly instead.

"And did you find anything worth your time?"

Bruce's eyelashes flutter, "I did. You are a great conversationalist, Mr. Kent. If-if people from Smallville are anything like you, maybe it isn't so bad?"

The two seem to lean in closer to the other, their private bubble popping at the sound of boisterous laughter coming from inside. Bruce gasps and pulls away, both him and Clark blushing as the beta apologizes for being unprofessional, the whine being choked down the Wayne heir's throat from the loss of warmth as their hands separate.

Clark stands tall as the omega steps close again, his smile back to suave as he slips the recorder back into the suit pocket, his voice betraying how he actually feels as it's incredibly soft and hopeful. "You can keep this interview for yourself-" his finger taps the device now snug in Clark's front pocket-"And...maybe you can finish this interview at a better time? When I don't have to greet my guests, perhaps? I think I've kept them waiting on me long enough."

Lois's voice echoes in Clark's head about power moves and everything, his lips twitching up in amusement as he nods gently and leads the omega back inside.

————°————

Jason doesn't know how it's happened. One second he was being interviewed by two lovely women-his new friends-and then the next thing he knows he's somehow separated from them and doing his best to greet the guests while waiting for Bruce to return.

Luckily enough for him, there's been a nice group of high class attendees that waved him over, their sparkling jewelry catching the pups attention. "Looky here, ladies, we have a lovely gentleman in our midst. And isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Jason stands taller as the group of older women assess him, their lips stretching into fond smiles as they stare down at him. "My name is Margareta Hewley, young man, though I prefer Margaret, Marge or Greta cause my name sounds like the alcoholic drink-oh! I got off topic. I may have forgotten your name already...but what was it, Johnson?"

Jason goes to respond, but a middle-aged woman with sandy blonde hair interrupts him with a frantic hand wave.

"No, no, no. You've got it all wrong, Greta. He said his name was Jensen, isn't that right, honey? My name is Dahlia Nugat, though it sounds a lot like the thing you put in-between chocolate bars."

The group of women burst out into a loud laughter, Jason growing increasingly amused by these women and how silly they are and how they make fun of their names. "Nice to meet you, my name is Jason actually-" the women 'ah' as he kindly corrects them, causing Jason to giggle-"But it's okay! Everyone makes mistakes."

A brunette reaches down to pinch at his cheek, "Well aren't you just so forgiving? It's very nice to see another one of Bruce's pups, he definitely has a type, doesn't he girls?"

Dahlia hums and leans closer to Jason, "What do you mean, Grace? This one has the most lovely shade of baby blue eyes I've ever seen." Grace sips at her champagne, nodding in agreement. "Of course he does! But that's not what I meant. He sure does pick a lot of strays up, doesn't he? Dearie, may I ask where you came from?" Jason swallows nervously as their attention is suddenly drawn to him, their smiles still open and inviting, like aunties scrambling to look at their favorite nephews new child. Though there's something in their gazes now that cause him to feel like he needs to stand a little taller as they question him, "Y-Yes ma'am. Bruce found-" the affronted gasps cause the pup to frown-"What? Did I...did I say something wrong?"

Greta waves a delicate hand. "Oh, of course not! Just...you were found? It makes it seem like you were lost, dear child. Did he not collect you from the adoption agency? He has lots of them due to his mother's bleeding heart-ah, rest her soul of course."

Jason furrows his brow in confusion at the term 'collect'. What is he? A trophy?

"Well, no...he found me on the streets. So, I guess I was kind of lost without him, though I knew my way around them!"

Greta, Dahlia and Grace share a look with each other. The sandy blonde looking him up and down before her eyes land on his tie, her smile returning at the sight of it. "Oh my! Look at this lovely tie, girls, isn't it cute? It has...character to it."

Grace raises a thin brow, "Is this character named Jason? The tie looks about as lost as he does."

It takes a moment for Jason to process the comment, the delivery of it was said so syrupy sweet and complimenting that he chirped happily, his mood souring slightly at the biting remark. "Hey! Bruce and Alfred said I could tie my own tie for tonight and even said it looked great."

Greta clears her throat to get her friends under control, "We only jest with you. This is how we...play around here, you're one of us now, aren't you?" At the boy's quick nodding, her smile returns full force. "There's a good pup! We are only recognizing you as a part of our...pack you could say. And sometimes packs tease each other in good fun, surely you must know this?" Jason looks down ashamed at the memories of his small, very broken pack consisting of just himself, his mom and his dad...there wasn't really any good fun in those times, so he doesn't know how it's supposed to work.

The women practically purr at the downcast look they receive for the specific question, itching forward in excitement as they practically smell the juicy story emanating off the child. "Jason? Why the long stare? Surely it isn't that hard to tell us if you had fun with your biological family."

The pup looks back up at Greta, his throat feeling tight as he tries his best to remain brave, neglecting the urge to look for Bruce.

"I...don't wanna talk about them. Y-You have any other questions?"

Dahlia croons softly at him, "Don't you fret your adorable little head. I'll just state the obvious here: you don't know how a pack works, do you?" She waits for the boy to shake his head, clicking her tongue when he does so. "Well there we have it! You don't know how a pack properly works, and we-as your kind new aunties-just want to make sure you know how it functions. And in packs, you share things about yourself with each other, I mean, you need trust in a family don't you?"

Jason bites his lip. That...is true, isn't it? And he has been working on being more open about his feelings, even the bad ones.

"Y-Yes, you do. But...I don't know h-how."

The three croon to him at the same time, drawing him in closer as they pat his head and back comfortingly.

"There, there, puppy. Being open and honest about these things is healthy and perfectly normal, even if it doesn't seem like it is. Since this question is bothering you so much, why don't we ask where your mommy found you?"

Jason inhales shakily, balling up his pants in his tiny fists as he calms himself. "U-Uhm...B found me in Crime Alley."

Grace looks at him in disgust, "Ew! Who would be in a place like that? And why would our Brucie visit there anyway? That place holds no good memories for him, his parents were murdered there."

Jason feels ashamed from the intense reaction, the womens faces scrunching and curling up in disgust at the place he was born in. I mean, he can understand the aversion to wanting to be there, but do they have to be so...mean about it? However, he remembers Dahlia saying that being honest is normal, even when it seems scary to be so. But since he can't be truthful about the way he was actually found, he'll share a different kind of truth instead.

So, here goes nothing.

"I was born in Crime Alley. B found me on accident when visiting to help the folks down there...and I may have stolen something of his, but-."

The three women gasp, Dahlia literally clutching at her pearls while the other two jump away from him, a sharpness to their eyes that wasn't there before. "You mean...you are a thief? Are you sure you didn't just slip into Bruce's car and by his kindness he kept you?" Dahlia hisses out at him. Grace sniffles and lifts her head high, as if he's no longer worthy enough to look at. "First it was a circus freak and now a street rat? Where does Bruce find such creatures?"

Greta pulls out a handkerchief and wipes her hands on it, her lips curled up in absolute revulsion towards him. "I can't believe I touched it. And here I held out hope that this one was something...more?"

The women continue to insult Jason, causing the boy's eyes to grow watery as he tries to remember to breathe, maybe even apologize for whatever he did. He doesn't want to get sent away if Bruce sees and realizes he didn't make a good impression, he wants to stay, he wants to have this family so badly that it hurts. Nothing is worse than being alone, he'd take as much pain as possible if it doesn't mean being left alone with nothing but himself, and just the thought alone is panic inducing. "I-I wanna...s-stay."

The women turn their gazes towards the pup, their faces morphing into one of fear as they try to quiet him down, their smiles returning as they try to get him to calm down and breath. Their heads swiveling left and right in search of Bruce.

"I-I don't wanna go!"

Jason cries loudly, a sob ripping its way out of his throat as he attempts to wipe away the tears.

His head lifts instinctively in search of Bruce, his nose sniffing frantically for the omega and a whine cutting through the jovial mood and replacing it with the scent of distressed pup. There's only one person he wants right now and he doesn't see him, the memories of his mom clutching onto a pill bottle even in her death assaulting Jason suddenly, why did she leave him? They were supposed to survive together but she left and now Bruce-

Bruce?

Where's Bruce?

Where's-"M-Mommy!"

————°————

Bruce and Clark smile awkwardly at each other as they walk inside, Lois immediately rushing over to them and complimenting her fellow omega for how beautiful Jason is. "Thank you! He really is beautiful, isn't he? But, you do know I didn't actually give birth to him? I can't take credit for creating his beauty."

Lois rolls her eyes and growls at another reporter trying to interrupt them, straightening her deep purple suit jacket when they rush off.

"Why does it matter? He seems like a very sweet kid...and you took that sweetness in and-as far as I'm concerned-cultivated his kindness into something even more. You're good for him and he's perfect for you. Especially since he grew up in Crime Alley, you wouldn't imagine there'd come any good from that, hm?" Bruce blinks in shock at the other omega, "Jason...he told you that himself? That he grew up there?" The woman nods proudly, "Both me and Vicki...but it was a really nice interview. Especially when Vicki was called elsewhere-" she digs around in her inner suit pocket before pulling out a notepad and tape recorder-"Oh yes! I jotted down some extra notes in here and recorded our interview with Alfred's permission. I know how protective you are and thought that you'd like to take a look and listen over these? Contact me when you know what you want to be shared with the public, if anything at all."

Bruce feels his chest warm at the thoughtfulness, surprising even himself as he hands the notepad and recorder back to Lois.

"I...trust that you'll use good judgement? You don't win a Pulitzer for no reason, Ms. Lane."

Purple eyes shine in victory, an omegan call escaping her as she thanks Bruce and immediately gets distracted at Jimmy passing by them looking at his camera, Lois immediately hounding him to show her the money shots.

"Well, I guess you have to go find your son now?"

Bruce looks up at Clark and nods, sniffing the air quickly and smirking at the smell of his pup being around the whole room. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy tried his hand at talking to everyone in the room by himself, but before he can turn to go find his son, the scent of slightly sour milk stings the omega's nose. An ear piercing cry causing Bruce to instinctively turn towards the sound of scared pup, not just any pup, but his own.

"M-Mommy!"

An aggressive snarl is torn from Bruce's throat as he shoves his way past the guests, ignoring the pained cries of anyone unlucky enough to be in the way as he forces his way to where his pup is, his eyes narrowing angrily at the sight of the three women who constantly give him headaches at these sort of events.

"Jason-" Bruce trills-"it's okay, baby, it's okay. Move!"

The three women bare their necks in apology as they slowly back away from the Wayne's pup, the scent of their fear stinking up the room and causing Jason to react worse than before, his small hands squeezing onto Bruce's shirt as he gasps around his words. "D-Dont...go! I'm sorry!" Bruce wraps his arms securely around Jason, the different scents of alpha, beta and omega overwhelming him. His arms wrap tighter around his child as he snarls at the flashing cameras, the room descending into chaos as the media wants good pictures and certain attendees are trying to send out their own soothing scents in response to the smell of a scared pup.

Jason whimpers as someone shouts an inappropriately timed question, that being the last straw for Bruce as his omega takes full control and growls at everyone, even going so far as to start hitting at people in his protective state.

Pretty sure someone's camera broke.

"Get the fuck out of my home!"

The flashes stop suddenly at the sound of a feral and protective omega mother, the crowd has further incentive to keep moving when they see Bruce secure his hold on Jason and squaring his shoulders in preparation to start fighting anyone and everyone still in his nest.

"Mommy, d-don't give me away. I promise t-that I'll be good."

Gentle hands rub at Jason's nape to try and soothe him, his inner omega restless even though there's no one else he senses in his home but Alfred, Bruce whimpering pitifully as he nuzzles the boy's neck. "But you are good, you're so good, Jay. Better than I could have ever asked or hoped for, who told you that you weren't?"

Jason just whimpers and tries to scent Bruce's neck, whining at the equally distressed scent of his mom.

Why can't Bruce calm down? He's failing as a mother. He's just supposed to stay calm long enough to comfort his baby and then he can be furious, but something in him is shaking, snarling and fighting against enemies that aren't even here. His eyes flickering around the room for threats, covering Jason in his scent so no one can find him and take him away-

A strong hand cupping the nape of his neck firmly, but not without kindness, causes Bruce to melt with a whine against his pup.

"D-Dad."

Alfred softly shushes both Bruce and Jason, giving a couple firm rubs to induce the omega's serotonin, gently rumbling to the two and scenting them to soothe not just them, but himself as well. "There you go, Bruce. Will you both be alright while I head into the kitchen to prepare some warm milk?"

Bruce nods and nuzzles Jason, cooing to the pup as he hiccups softly. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll go to my nest, okay?"

Bruce stands up with a slight stumble, petting Jason's fluffy hair softly as he rushes towards the steps, stopping in surprise at the sight of a frazzled Clark Kent, shocked at the fact he doesn't get too defensive at the other man's presence. "C-Clark? Why are you still here?" The beta looks down at Jason worriedly, sighing in relief at seeing the boy seems to be fine for the most part, though his nose twitches at the lingering scents of distress in the air. "I was helping to clear everyone out the house a-and I couldn't help but to stick behind even though I told myself to leave. I'm sorry, Bruce. I-I know that this is crossing some sort of line, but I just needed to see that you both were okay."

Bruce purrs softly in response to Jason shifting around with a whine, his omega not enjoying the fact his baby is feeling intimidated by the alpha, even if it is an alpha he feels comfortable with himself.

This time it's Clark that interrupts Bruce before he can say anything, "Look. Um...you're taking him upstairs, right? I-I don't want to go into your nest, but...can I...geeze-" he cards a shaky hand through his hair-"If it's allowed, may I escort you both to the room? I promise to stay in front so you can see me at all times." It looks like this situation isn't the only one to shake Bruce up, seems like it's startled the poor beta just as much as them.

Bruce slowly nods and gestures towards the staircase, watching cautiously as the man ascends the steps.

He continues to scent his pup with his now relaxed scent, gently massaging Jason's neck to relax the boy more while purring softly and peppering the sweaty face with kisses. "We're almost there, baby. You are so good, no one is taking you away from me, no one at all. You're mine and I'm your's cause we chose each other, and I would never trade that for anything."

Jason squeaks softly against the omega's neck, inhaling the familiar scent desperately as he slumps in Bruce's arms.

"Thank you Clark for making sure we got here safe. I'll just-"

The beta bends forward slowly to open the door for Bruce, his smile embarrassed for crossing into the omega's space again, his voice a quiet rumble as he speaks. "Your hands are full." Bruce hums in response, too tired to pay attention to the familiarity of this interaction as he quickly settles Jason down onto the bed, heading back to the open door and hesitating before closing it softly, a tired but thankful smile gracing his face as he whispers an extremely grateful, "Thank you."

The door softly clicks shut in Clark's face, his mouth hanging wide open as he realizes that Bruce Wayne is Batman.

————°————

It's late into the night, Bruce purring loudly at his pup's now milky and safe smelling scent. He can't find it in himself to sleep after tonight's events, so lying in bed cuddling with his baby it is.

A small, sleepy squeak escapes Jason, the boy twitching in his sleep, only being soothed by Bruce pressing kisses to his cheek and purring even louder. Why is it now that his mind chooses to think about the familiarity Clark Kent gives him, as if he's met him before? His sleep-addled brain sluggishly replaying every interaction between him in Clark, so much so that he starts to drift off to sleep.

However, the way the beta opened the door for him, stuck around for him and the pup, as well as announce that, 'your hands are full', is strangely uncanny to the way Superman stuck around for Richard and-Oh my gosh! Bruce opens his eyes quickly, any trace of exhaustion gone as he comes to the realization that Clark Kent is Superman.

"Hush, pup, I'm right here, it's okay." Bruce croons to the pup he disturbed in his surprised revelation, rubbing the boys back and cocooning the boy tighter into the blankets as he settles down to sleep.

(Here's the Link to Part 1: The Interview. I hope these stories are able to be enjoyed by someone? Either way, you guys are amazing. So please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛

P.S. The three rich hags views on Jason are not my own personal opinion of those in poverty or otherwise. They were written to be jerks/upsetting, so I hope I achieved my goal? I myself grew up in poverty and it sucks (absolutely would not wish it on my worst enemies), again, I just wrote them in the attempts of what rich people may think sometimes about those with less. Don't be like them guys! Be kind to everyone, okay? Alright, bye bye. 😘💛)

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bohemianblasphemy · 24 hours ago

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Never again.

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

A close call whilst on a hunt with the Winchesters causes a heated argument between you and the eldest brother, allowing for feelings that were squashed deep down to be bubbled up to the surface.

Contains: death mention, killing vampires, reader being choked out, canon violence, heated argument, smut, P in V sex, oral (F receiving), the knee thing, tiddy sucking, fluffy at the end ✨

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Requests are open as always xxx

It was supposed to be a simple hunt- a cluster of vampires, nothing that hadn’t been dealt with before. Hunting wasn’t something that was new or unusual for you - however you weren’t as experienced as the brothers.

Your inexperience posed as a risk in hunts, a slip up could cost you more than you bargained for and in this instance, that’s what happened.

The case blipped on Sam’s radar and thought it was a case worth solving, only being a couple of hours away from the motel you were staying at. You were called into the brother’s shared room from your seperate one, getting a run down of the creatures at hand.

“Get this- at least a dozen cows were drained of blood on this farm, but also the farmer was found in his barn with those same bite marks, drunk dry as well. Not the first time this has happened here too.” Dean grimaced at Sam’s words, audibly groaning as the images of cows invaded his brain.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expense. “Can’t handle some dead cows now, Dean? After literally everything else you’ve ever seen?” You teased, earning a playful glare from him. “Shut up, it’s gross.” He chuckled, stealing a glance at you from across the room, admiring the way your eyes crinkled as you laughed.

Dean and yourself had this… something. Longing glances, casual brushes against each other- hugs that seemed to last a little longer than normal. Nothing was ever said or done, but there was always something there.

Sam continued, clearing his throat as he watched you two do… whatever it was that you were doing. “I think we should get in there and y’know, deal with the problem.”

In agreement, you all set out to investigate- piling into the impala for the few hour trip out west. In that time together; Sam and Dean in the passenger and drivers seat, you in the back.

Dean stole glances at you in the rear view mirror as he drove. He smiled to himself, your presence being a ray of light in his soul.

Sam smiled, eyeing his brother’s expression before clearing his throat, which he more than often did when Dean was distracted. Dean could see Sam’s mischievous smirk as he was caught staring, warranting a warning glance to not mention it to you.

Finding the hideout of these vampires was a little too easy- small town with abandoned buildings, it wasn’t hard to narrow down.

“Alright Lost Boys, cmon out.” You muttered, wondering around the secluded Cabin in the woods, the rotted floorboards creaking under you as you and the winchesters snuck around the space.

Dean smirked at your comment. “Yeah, Count Orlok better get his ass out here.” He whispered, earning snicker from you. “Guys, seriously? Not the time…” Sam was on edge, his sense heightened as your trio snuck through the building like the Scooby gang.

It wasn’t long before your presence was made known to the blood suckers; ambushing you as you descended into the dank cellar below the rotted building.

You were outnumbered- five vampires to your three. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you posed an even chance of eliminating them. Hatchets, vamponite- you name it. If it killed vampires, you had it on you.

Three were down, two more to go- you having killed Vamp number three. Sam had his hands on one, Dean was backed into a corner by the other. The being baring its ugly teeth as he attempted to bite into deans flesh- you could see a glint of fear in his eyes as he tried to hold the creature back with his bare hands.

The panic inside your body settled in, without hesitation you had lunged yourself at the vampire to throw it off balance, weapon at the ready- giving Dean enough time to move.

It was then as the creature turned around and dodged the swing of your machete, taking the opportunity of your moment of weakness as you recovered from the swing to grab you by the throat, pressing your body against the hard surface of the concrete flooring.

The deafening screech of the disgraceful creature rang in your ear. Its grip on your throat constricted your airways, watching you squirm and try to release yourself from its strength but it was no use.

Your breaths began to falter, vision becoming blurry - furthering your consciousness into the darkness of oblivion. The echoes of Dean yelling of your name and his frantic footsteps toward you were the last things you could hear, before everything faded to black.

Dean scrambled to inject the vampire with Vamponite, the creature perishing as the elixir spread through its body, throwing the corpse off of you.

“Sweetheart- fuck, can you hear me?” Dean mumbled shakily, his palms shaking as he stroke your face. Sam bent down at your side, shaking your shoulder gently and calling your name. Dean took a shallow breath as he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, checking your pulse.

He felt that soft throb in your veins, a jagged sigh of relief fell from his lips.

“She’s still here.” he choked out softly, before he cleaned his throat and sniffled hard, reeling back those tears that threatened to fall.

He was relieved that you were alive, God knows what he’d do if you had slipped through his fingers like that- but he was livid.

He didn’t want you doing something like that, something he’d consider so idiotic- putting your damn life on the line for him.

It was a deafeningly quiet drive back to the motel, the brothers dragging you out of the damned den of vampire corpses. You were laid out in the back seat, Dean cradling your head in his lap and petting your hair as Sam drove the impala.

Deans eyes never left your face, the flurry of emotions that rattled his head never faltered, monitoring you on the journey back to the dingy motel.

It was a good few hours after arriving back that you awoke, your eyes adjusting to the soft orange glow of the side lamp that lit the bland room. A dull pain came over your body as you slowly sat up, a soft groan escaping your mouth.

That quiet sound alerted Dean awake, who was sitting at your bedside in an arm chair to monitor you- but his own exhaustion; a mixture of physical and emotional stress had taken over.

He looked over you, seeing the discolouration on your neck where the vampire had you made his heart tighten- but remembering the act of putting yourself on the line for him made his anger and frustration bubble up inside him again; his brows furrowed, those green eyes darkening and those perfect lips turned down in a scowl.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” His tone could’ve stopped time itself. Those words that came out of his mouth was a shock to your freshly awakened system, taking a minute to process them.

“I wasn’t going to let it kill you, Dean.” You replied quietly, looking at him as you swung your legs off the side of the bed slowly.

“how could you be so- so reckless?! I had it under control, I had Vamponite- I needed it to get close to me to kill the sonuvabitch.” His nostrils flared, his stare was on you as he watched you attempt to get up out of the squeaky bed, causing him to stand up as well.

“I-it- it got me at a weak moment and-” You argued back before he cut you off.

“No. That’s not the point, you made yourself bait for fucks sake- you put yourself in danger. That was stupid, so fucking reckless.” His voice raised in volume, standing up and facing you.

“I saved your ass Dean. hell it was a massive risk but I took that chance. I’m alive, Sam’s alive- you’re alive.” You rasped.

“Listen to me DAMMIT!” He growled. “God stop acting so feckless about this! You could have DIED.” He was fuming, if it was humanly possible, steam would be coming out of his ears.

Your face changed into a scowl of frustration at his tone, stepping closer to him. “I couldn’t stand and watch it happen, I couldn’t not do anything! I will not watch you die, Winchester.”

“You don’t get to decide to be some damn sacrificial lamb. You- you can’t just do that to me-“ his words got caught in throat like a lump, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath in through his nose. “I couldn’t live with that, not without- without you.”

As his eyes opened again, he saw the softened glance that you gave him- the look in your eyes that had a glimpse at the softer side that he tried so hard to keep locked away.

“Dean-“ He shushed you softly, bringing his palms to your jaw- the touch sending a shock down your spine, closing your eyes at the somewhat soothing touch as your lips parted to release a soft breath.

“No, no. Look at me. Please…” Deans voice was softer now, his tone almost… pleading, looking for your pupils.

His instruction was promptly followed as you opened your eyes, the tension between the two of you thickening in that very little space between you two.

“You can’t just throw away your life like that, not for me. Not for anyone.” He muttered, his voice was full of emotion, the hardened walls that preserved this side of him starting to crumble.

His thumbs that were on your cheeks started to stroke the soft skin, more so to comfort and ground himself than anything as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You scared me, really scared me.” He breathed. “Please promise me, don’t do that again. I’ve lost too much already… it would be the end of me if you were gone.”

“I need you sweetheart, more than you know.”

Deans words struck in your soul, knocking the wind out of you. All you could muster was a longing gaze, a slight brush of the tip of your nose against his.

After a few moments, you piped up.

“I need you too Dean, so much…”

That sentence alone let dean release a breath, the hot air splaying against your lips.

“I-is this real?” You whispered, smiling softly at him.

“As real as it gets, sweetheart.” He grumbled, his thumb moving from your cheek to your bottom lip, lightly grazing across it- his green eyes looking between yours and your lips.

“Can I?” Dean purred, pulling your lip down playfully - making your body shiver once more under his touch.

“Please…”

No further hesitation was necessary, pressing his full lips to yours - savouring the warm and gentle sensation.

Deans arms snaked around you, one around the middle of your back and the other creeping up between your shoulders to cradle the back of your neck- backing you up to the bed cautiously before your legs hit the frame, slowly lowering you down amongst the worn in mattress as the springs squeaked underneath you both.

He made sure you lay back comfortably, gazing down at you from above. “So beautiful…” he whispered with his signature smile before leaning down to capture your lips again as he settled on top of you.

Deans knee crept up between your thighs, pressing up against your clothed core. A soft sigh vibrated off your lips to his as you began to move your hips against his knee, relieving some of the arousal that was pooling inside of you. “Yeah sweetheart… grind on it baby, take what you want from me.” Deans voice was low and gruff, laced thickly with want.

You moaned his name, it falling deliciously onto his ears. “God I could get used to hearing that.”

Fingers reached the hem of your t-shirt, slowly raising it to slip off your torso to expose your warm skin to him. Dean took a moment to admire you again, glowing with adoration for you. You suddenly sat up, reaching around to unhook your bra- struggling to undo it. “Dammit…” you had muttered before deans hands moved behind you, unhooking it for you. “I’ve got you…” he smirked.

His index fingers hooked under your straps, pulling the material away as your breasts fell. Dean couldn’t help the breathy moan erupting from his throat, slowly pushing you onto your back.

His lips attached to your neck, breathing in the faint smell of your perfume and natural scent- an addicting feeling that made his eyes roll into the back of his head. They trailed down your collarbone, toward your chest.

His face was level with your chest, hot breath fanning over one of your breasts as he pulled your nipple into his mouth. “O-oh- Dean…” you gasped, feeling his tongue swirl around the now hardened nub. “so good baby…” he struggled to say, his mouth occupied with your nipple.

Dean repeated the same along your other tit, relishing in the sounds of your moans as you continued to move your core along his jean cladded knee. “Wanna taste you… please baby.” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

God, he sounded so desperate… so needy- you couldnt help but whimper. “Y-yes, I want it…”

The kisses along your torso never ceased, his fingers moving lower to work on untying your sweatpants and tugging them down your thighs. He reluctantly removed his lips from your skin as he sat up to remove the last few garments on you, throwing your pants and underwear to the ground in the corner of the room.

Scooting down, Dean settled between your legs- his large hands gripping on the outside of your thighs. “So pretty baby… all f’me.” Soon his lips met your skin again as he left wet open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs- his eyes never once leaving yours as he reached the apex of your thigh.

There was no resisting some teasing, his tongue barely touch the skin around your pussy, making your hips buck and try to chase after it.

“Please, don’t tease me Dean, I want to feel your mouth on me…” you whined, his lips just a breath away from where you wanted him most.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

He never thought he would experience heaven, but the taste between your thighs would’ve been what he’d consider close to it. The tip of his tongue circled around the tender nub of your cunt, dragging it down to prod at your sopping entrance- manipulating your sinful sounds to fill the room.

Your hands reached to find his hair, tugging at his short brown locks. “you feel so fucking good…” you praised as you pulled at his hair, earning a moan of satisfaction from him. “Do that again, pull my fucking hair…” he groaned, his tongue continuing its assault on you.

It was overwhelming, the knot in your hips was beginning to unfurl as your orgasm started to wash over you- a final call of his name as your fingers tightened their grip on his hair as your pelvis rolled back into deans actions against you.

He groaned as he continued to lap at you, greedily taking every last bit of your wetness on his tongue. “So sweet…” he praised, placing one last kiss to your core.

“D-Dean, I want you- I need you to fuck me, please…” you whimpered. A wolfish smirk appeared on deans face as he stood up, whipping off his Led Zeppelin shirt in one swift motion before working on his belt buckle.

You sat back and enjoyed the view of his stripping off, seeing his soft tummy and broad shoulders, the anti possession tattoo on his collar… it was as if he was created by the gods himself. The time came where he stripped himself of his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free of all restraint.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” His voice laced with a cocky tone, crawling back onto the bed to resume his position on top of you.

“I’d be an idiot if I didn’t like it…” you replied, giggling softly as you pulled him in for a deep, slightly sloppy kiss.

Dean moved to position himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock sliding along you teasingly- the both of you letting out soft breathy moans into your mouths, before he couldn’t take it anymore- he had to feel you, to fuck you, make you his…

“Oh fuck- yes-“ Dean gasped, his cock pressing inside of you- the feel of your nails digging into his back making the sensation all the more euphoric. His hips started to move slowly against yours, coaxing more of those delicious moans he longed to hear from you.

“Dean!” You were loud, the sounds of your moans, deans grunts and the squeaking mattress springs filled the room- leaving no room for doubt of getting complaints from the neighbouring residents in the other motel rooms.

“God sweetheart, you’re so- so good, so good for me.” He groaned as he felt your thighs wrap around his hips, his cock pushing deeper inside you now, the pace of his thrusts becoming stronger.

He watched as you writhed below him, as your expressions contorted in its pleasured state- taking one of his thumbs to circle around your clit, heightening your pleasure as your back arched. “Fuck! Yes, don’t stop-“ you pleaded, your nails digging harder into his shoulder blades.

The way you looked and sounded to him brought him closer, the thrusts becoming sloppy as he near reached his peak, his fingers still working along your clit. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum-“ he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his head falling forward into your neck as he came, his thick hot cum coating your delicate walls.

Your breathing was sharp and fast as another orgasm fell over you, your thighs quivering in ecstasy and exhaustion.

Dean pulled his head from your neck, kissing you tenderly. “You have no idea… how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He whispered, rubbing his nose along yours. “Could say the same with you…” that comment made him smile widely, pecking your lips once more before pulling out of you, lying down to curl into your side.

It was silent for a good while, the jagged breathing between you both as you came down from your highs being the only sound breaking the silence. It was comfortable, blissful even- just being in each other’s arms after such intimacy.

“Promise me something?” Dean spoke quietly, placing a soft kiss on your neck as he buried his face into it.

“Yeah?” You ran your fingers through his hair, holding him close to you.

“Don’t ever put yourself in danger again… please.” His tone was soft but serious, his hand reaching out to hold your free palm.

“And not get railed like that again? Damn i might have to think about it.” you teased him, massaging his scalp as he gave a sleepy chuckle.

“No need to get hurt again for that, just gotta ask me and I’m at your beck and call. You’re mine now after all.”

“Oh I’m yours now huh?” You giggled, the laughing being cut off by Dean sucking on your neck, a low mewl escaping your lips.

He smirked against your neck, pulling away to admire the growing red love bite that formed against your skin.

“Yeah, you’re mine now sweetheart, can’t get away from me now.”

Tags <3: @bluemerakis

#supernatural #Dean Winchester #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction

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isawritesshit · 1 day ago

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The Color Blue - Chapter 3

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest; borders created by @anitalenia

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, slightly ooc! (?) gojo, mostly fluff with a smidge of tension, cat :), small signs of past mental and physical abuse, violence, death, guns, knives, bit of blood, explosion cause by gojo’s technique, mentions of bruising and choking, brief threats, bits of trauma after an attack, healing myself a little after season 2, sharing a bed, gojo teasing, brief argument, reader says something about her not caring if she dies but doesn’t mean it, cursing, gojo has scars, cuddles and secret kisses :)

Author's Note: Hello everyone. This chapter has been a long time coming, and I apologize that I fell off the face of the earth. More of that will be explained later. However, I want to thank those that did message me and have been enjoying this story so far, but we know how life can get. I had a great time writing this during what little time I had, and it's also a little longer than my usual chapters. So, without further ado, here's chapter 3 !! Remember to catch up on The Color Blue if you haven't done so before reading !! For those of you who I may have forgotten to add in the taglist or would like to be added, comment below!

Word Count: ~8.8k

Apparently, even The Strongest got the jitters. Satoru didn't think it was possible, yet here he was, his leg bouncing as he sat in the back seat of the car as it pulled up to the long, winding driveway.

He would admit to himself that he was counting down the days, and then even the hours, until he got to see you again. It felt ridiculous at this point, the quickening heartbeat knowing you were getting closer by the second, the smile he tried to hide whenever you crossed his mind.

And the... other thoughts he had of you over his trip as well. He had those a little more than he was willing to admit in your absence.

The driver pulled up to the front entrance and Satoru retrieved his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He went up the steps, opened the door...

He frowned when you weren't on the other side. He thought that maybe you would greet him in the foyer. Oh well, just meant he would have to go looking for you. Satoru started with your shared kitchen, then the living room... maybe inside your bedroom?

He opened your door, calling your name. Immediately, as if startled, you jumped up from your bed, hands behind your back, the book in your lap clattering to the floor. Satoru's eyebrows raised at your sudden movement.

"W-welcome home, Satoru! How was your flight back?" you exclaimed. Something must be-

"Mmrreow..."

A cat's soft purr sounded in the air.

"Whatcha got there?"

"A book...?"

Satoru chuckled and smirked, his arms now resting at his sides. "I don't think that was a book..."

Your face scrunched up as your arms moved from behind your back. "Please don't be upset..."

You revealed a small ragdoll cat, probably only a few months old, it's singular eye scanning before it landed on Satoru. Satoru gasped and, like a child being presented with a new toy, threw his duffel bag aside and took the cat into his arms.

You've never heard a grown man squeal. That being said, your worried face softened into a grin.

"When did you get this little cutie?" Satoru laughed, turning the cat over in one arm to pet her little stomach.

"W-well... you told me before you left that... your money is my money, and I've always wanted a cat. I made sure I did my research, though! I bought her from a shelter, and made sure to get her the required vaccinations-"

"Does she have a name?" he exclaimed, handing the cat to you.

"I named her Sugar... if you don't like it, we can-"

"Sugar! Awww, that's the perfect name!!" he cooed, petting Sugar under her chin, her right and only eye squinting as she purred. "She already likes me too..."

Sugar moved out of his arms to lay on your bed as you strode to reach for a book on your dresser. A book for taking care of kittens, he realized. "You don't have to worry about taking care of her. I have her food ready for the next few months, the best kind I could find for her breed and age, and I already have her litter set up in the laundry room. I'm keeping her toys in my room as well," you explained, already paging through the book to support your points.

Satoru looked at you from where he started to kneel at the foot of your bed, getting up close and personal with the new feline friend. He admired your sudden commitment, but... "You don't want my help?" Satoru questioned, cocking his head.

"Well, I figured since I'm the one who bought her, I should take care of her. I don't want to inconvenience you," you answered, clasping your hands with the book in front of you.

"It's not really that much of an inconvenience. The only reason I never got one before was because I felt bad that I was almost never home. But now that you're here, it makes it a lot easier. It's not like you got a dog," he reasoned, now standing to full height while petting across the fur of Sugar's back. "If you really want to take full responsibility, that's fine, but I don't mind helping. I just can't promise I can or will want to change the litter."

You let out a small laugh. "I'm okay with that then..."

After a few moments of silence, you picked up your gaze from the floor, a soft smile on your face and a question on your tongue, only to see Satoru looking at you already.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had such sweet eyes, like blue cotton candy, and the way he looked at you with them was even sweeter. A small blush warmed your cheeks as you averted your eyes. What were you going to say again?

"Something wrong, pretty girl?"

"W-what? Oh, no, I was just... going to ask how your trip was?"

Satoru shrugged. "Meh, nothing out of the usual. Just a few grade ones here and there, but finding a special grade was a little interesting. I took care of that one too. Oh, and there was this one store-"

Satoru ended up ranting about all of the new stores and restaurants he tried out for an hour, even if you did remember some of these places briefly from your short, daily phone calls. He even paused to retrieve something from his bag at one point: a delicate antique comb with pearls in the handle. A gift, as well as something that reminded him of you.

You took it from him to arrange in your jewelry box. You found it quite absurd that Satoru was telling you more about his leisure time that he spent in Kyoto rather than the curses he fought. You couldn't tell if he was just trying to spare you the gruesome details, or he if really didn't feel like it was that important to talk about. Perhaps to him, these curses were like stones on his path to be kicked or flies he shooed away from his face, barely worth mentioning. At least, that's what it seemed like to you.

It scared you a bit.

"(Y/N)?" Your thoughts broke as he said your name, one of his hands resting on Sugar as he sat by her and the other resting on his knee while he looked at you. "You good?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine..."

"Really? You don't seem like it..." Satoru expressed, now rising from your bed to walk over to you. Since he had left, you had forgotten how much taller he was than you. "Is everything okay? I never got to ask how you were here without me..."

Your face shifted as he said that. "May I confess something?"

His eyebrows raised. "Yes, go ahead."

You held the book in your hands close to your chest. "When... when I first started to live here, I found your presence... unwanted and... a bit frightening. I got more accustomed to it and... as we became friends it had become normal. But when you left for this mission, I didn't realize how used to it I had gotten. So much so that... sometimes, when I found myself eating or going about the house or cleaning our living spaces, I would suddenly feel... I felt-"

"Is this your way of saying you missed me?" Satoru interrupted, a smug grin reaching the handsome planes of his face.

Your face flushed. "W-well, yes! But, what I was trying to get to is that-"

"I can't believe it. (Y/N) actually likes me! Maybe she won't move across the world from me after all, haha!!" Satoru gasped sarcastically before pumping his fist in triumph, to which you huffed. Satoru snickered, ruffling your hair. "Heeey, it's okay. You can admit that you missed your darling, awesome husband."

"Not just my husband. My friend," you returned, a grateful smile gracing your features. He mirrored that same smile, his hands on his hips. After a beat too long, you sauntered past him back to Sugar, who was now curled on your bed. "That being said, I think we should celebrate your return."

"Celebrate?" Satoru's eyes followed you as you walked, subtly taking the shape of your waist as you moved and shoving the ensuing thoughts deep down.

"Yes, as both a welcoming party for Sugar and for your return home," you replied, taking the slumbering kitten in your arms. "Also, mostly because I haven't had anyone to cook for this past week."

Satoru picked up his duffel bag and followed you out the door towards the stairs. "Surely that isn't the only reason you missed me?" he laughed.

"Well, nothing else is coming to mind," you joked right back, turning to him. Satoru looked back at you wide-eyed, an opened mouth grin forming on his face. Did you just... go along with one of his sarcastic gags? Telling by the little hidden smile you were giving him, you were.

This was new.

Satoru just huffed and shrugged, taking a step past you to open his bedroom door. "I think I'm rubbing off on you, pretty girl. Maybe I should've stayed away longer..."

You tried to hide your flush by avoiding eye contact, the sudden drop in octave in his voice causing you to go warm. He saw it anyway. Almost expected it at this point, given how predictable your reactions were. He stepped through his bedroom doorway, duffel bag on his shoulder once more, the epitome of smug satisfactory on his face.

Until you gripped his hand, looking up at him with eyes that could bring him to his knees. "I'm glad your home, Satoru."

It was the first time that you had ever initiated such contact. You knew it of course, and so did he. He clung to that unspoken fact, that knowing bit of trust and maybe something a bit more, as he engulfed your hand in his, giving it a small, warm squeeze.

"Me too..."

The two of you decided on a savory curry recipe for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but still delicious. Satoru chose to use the time as a way to try and test out that new found humor of yours, smiling to himself when he would get you to laugh or reply back with something witty. He'd been waiting to see this kind of side of you for a while, one that you had originally kept reserved, or maybe didn't even know that you had at all.

While eating, Satoru asked what you had been up to when he was away. "I was keeping up with my usual tasks. Nothing too special..." you said, looking down at your plate as you spooned some of the curry.

Satoru stared at you as you did, a small frown on his face. "So you didn't get out at all or do anything?" He also wanted to question why you couldn't seem to look at him right now, but he pushed the thought aside.

You shook your head, taking a bite. "Other than running errands or picking out Sugar, no."

"Well, maybe we should-"

Satoru paused.

You looked up at his sudden silence. "Satoru?"

He shushed you immediately, causing you to bite your tongue. He stared ahead, as if peering right through the wall ahead of him. He was peering right through the wall, using his Six Eyes. You could tell by the feint bits of cursed energy seeping into the room.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru peeled himself from his seat, his expression suddenly hard. The staff had gone home for the day already, Sugar was sleeping under your feet... What could he possibly be going to check?

"Stay here," he murmured, his voice low. His tone sent a shiver of fear down your spine, not just because of its command, but for whatever the reason could be to change his demeanor so suddenly.

"Satoru, what is it-" you began, your voice hushed and brow furrowed. "Stay here," he growled, his head snapping in your direction as you barely rose from your seat. You complied, inching back down. "I'll be right back."

And with that, he moved, keeping a brisk pace as he opened the door that led to the rest of the estate, and shut it behind him. Worry began to coil in your gut, the thought of what could be so wrong that Satoru would have to just get up and leave. A few seconds passed, then a minute, more minutes...

You couldn't take it. You had to know something. Even if Satoru instructed you to stay put... as long as you didn't leave your shared part of the house, it would be okay, right? You rose from your chair slowly, the wood scraping against the floor as you padded over to the door at a snail's pace, an anticipatory feeling curling in your gut. Fear, something you knew almost all too well. It didn't help that your inner thoughts at the moment were your father's voice, laying out possible consequences and outcomes-

And yet, you grabbed the handle and swung the wide oak door open. Nothing but the dark hall and the stairwell beyond it greeted you.

"Satoru?" You thought that maybe he was playing a thoughtless prank, trying to scare you all for nothing. You almost expected him to pop out from behind you for a moment. No response.

You sighed, turning to shut the door, just before Sugar slipped past you, running. Of course, after her nap her boundless energy would push her towards the one place you didn't want her to be. You lunged forward to grab her, but the kitten only ran further away, as if daring you to catch her in some sort of game. If Satoru saw her, he would know that you must have opened the door at some point!

"Sugar!" you called, running down the hall after her.

"Who wants to tell me how you found my home? First to speak up dies last."

None of the thirty armed men standing in the garden said anything, sticking to aiming their useless guns. Satoru stood before them, arms crossed, the only thing between them and the house. And you.

"Okay, how about an easier question. Who hired you and how did you get past the wards?"

Wards had been placed all around the estate centuries ago when it was first built. No one had ever gotten past them. Until now.

It was almost embarrassing, too. None of these fuckers had any cursed energy, yet he had sensed them creeping through the treeline during dinner. He would've paid it no mind, since the barrier created by the wards should have stopped them. But they had walked right on through, and the barrier probably tickled them with a shock at best. He'd have to check their integrity later. But for now...

"Do I have to treat you like my students and pick on one of you?" Satoru snickered, a hand on his hip. This was a waste of time. The sooner he could get past the easy part, the sooner he could continue dinner with you and figure out who had sent these idiots so he could pay them a surprise visit. He didn't appreciate unexpected guests, especially while in the company of his wife.

Satoru sighed. "Okay then, you." Satoru pointed to one of the men on his left, and the man's arm twisted and exploded in blood and bone, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream. The men replied with open fire, to which Satoru easily blocked with his infinity.

Some of them refrained for a moment, realizing that this was no ordinary target, and that he was no ordinary man. The men stopped firing altogether, bewildered, and watched as the bullets clattered to the soft grass in front of him as he dropped his infinity.

"Should I ask one more time?" Satoru seethed lowly, stalking towards the group. A few of the sensible ones backed away a few steps. One man began to shake.

Satoru turned his head in that man's direction, watching him. The man cried out, and fired off his automatic rifle in a fit of terror, the bullets catching some of his team. The others began to fire with reckless abandon.

Satoru began to take care of them quickly, trying not to waste too much energy as he moved between each target. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Each bit of blood he poured only hit the infinity barrier he kept up and blew off like rain on a windshield. But he needed to keep one alive-

There. One was running back through the trees; a coward then, someone likely to confess. He made quick work of the rest, before running after the escaping man not too far into the surrounding forest.

Satoru caught him by his shoulder, ripped his gun away, and flung him to the ground, putting his shoe to the man's chest. "Talk."

"I-I don't know-"

"Then know. Or you'll end up just like the rest."

"But I can't. I won't. He won't let me remember-"

Satoru's head inclined. "Who?"

The man beneath him let out a shaky breath, pointing back towards the house. Satoru's eyes widened, looking back and-

Someone was dragging you through the back garden doors. They had cursed energy.

Satoru teleported back in a heartbeat, right behind the person, bared hands going to wrap around their neck-

But they reacted too quickly. The person, a woman, whirled you in front of herself, holding you up by your neck as a shield. Your choking made Satoru see red.

"Not so fast, Limitless," she purred. "Step back, or I snap her neck."

It would be so easy to snap hers instead, but he didn't know her technique. He didn't know what she could do to you. He complied reluctantly, and the woman set you down and let you breathe before gently resting a jagged dagger against your throat.

The woman was clearly a cursed user of some kind. Tall, form fitting, her muscular body contrasting the elegance of her red kimono and feminine face. She flashed him a saccharine smile. Whoever she was, Satoru didn't recognize her.

"So nice to finally meet you," the woman careened. "Your wife and I have already gotten acquainted." She pressed the knife closer towards the soft expanse of your neck, the sharp edge tickling your skin. You winced.

"Satoru-"

"It's okay, (Y/N)," he breathed out. But it wasn't okay. He had been a damn fool, telling you stay in the house, unprotected. No, he was a fool for following that last attacker into the forest. He was only there to draw him out, so this woman could slip in undetected. "Why didn't you stay in put-"

"That was my doing, actually," the woman smiled, raising her other hand from your nape. Satoru tensed, but instead Sugar appeared from beside her. The woman moved her hand in a circular motion, and Sugar mimicked it, spinning at the same speed of her hand before walking off. "A little party trick. Mrs. Gojo seems rather fond of the animal, so I figured she would rush to protect it when it "decided" to run off." And lured you to the garden just so she could pluck you out.

So, mind control. That was her technique. Satoru huffed. "I will admit, I haven't seen that one before. But what do you want?"

The woman shrugged. "Why don't you guess?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, trying not to let his slight panic get to him as he saw tears begin to slip down your face. She would pay for that. "Well, lots of people have their reasons. There's always a price for my head, so it could be that, but you seem pretty smart. You know you can't kill me," the woman grinned, "so you went for her. And now I have to... give you something, I presume?"

"Perhaps." The woman began thrumming her fingers on your collarbone. "It is something that you have. Try thinking a little harder."

Satoru crossed his arms, making a show of trying to come up with an answer. "Well, I do have a lot of money, but with your talents you don't seem to need to get it from me. I have valuable information on a vast variety of top secret jujustu subject matters, but really, you don't have to go through me to get those, and, even if you did, I really don't remember anything important, I mean, c'mon look at me. Sooo... other than that I would assume you're trying tooooo get my attention? In which case then, oh, I'm flattered and you seem like a nice gal, but I'm a married man so... what do you want?"

"I want her, dumbass," the woman growled, clearly upset by Satoru's rambling. She pressed the knife point underneath your chin, your chest heaving as you groaned. "Do you know what people would do for Death Immunity? What anyone would-"

"Oh, well, you could've just said so," Satoru grumbled. "Anyway, she-"

A thousand blades lunged at light speed from the trees, all aimed for him, which he deflected without a thought. He turned his head to look at them once they had clattered against the concrete, the knives identical to the one the woman was holding against you. "Geez, did you do that? Where were you keeping all those?" He put a hand to his head, trying to peer into the direction they came from.

The woman's demeanor went from peeved to panic when her surprised attack failed, clutching you tighter in her grasp, her grip beginning to bruise along your collarbone.

"Well, as I was saying," Satoru continued, turning back to the assailant. His eyes briefly took in the woman's nails digging into your skin, his voice rumbling a shade darker. "She's already mine, so I'm afraid you've come here for no fucking reason, other than to get killed. So, without further ado-"

Satoru raised his arm with killer quickness, a blue flash from his hand near blinding you as he aimed and released it into the woman's face. Before the blast could fully take, he pulled you to his chest, turning and shielding you both with his infinity as the woman's head was detonated so fast that her vocal cords were incinerated before she could scream.

You let out a painful sob as he pulled you to his chest firmly, hunching over you with an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. Only when he felt the implosion recede and heard the woman's body thump to the ground did he stand fully and let you turn around. "Are you hurt-"

Your first reaction was to look behind him to where the woman's corpse was still smoking, or what was left of it. "No, no, don't look," he murmured, forcing your head back into his chest. You were a mess, breath heaving, sobs racking your throat, eyes puffy and still crying fat tears.

" 'M sorry! 'M so sorry-" you choked.

"Don't apologize, you're okay now. I've got you. You're safe," Satoru whispered, trying to ground you, rocking you side to side as he cupped your face firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. His hands were warm, so unlike that woman's. Thumbs wiping your tears, he stroked your cheek as if it was the only thing able to pull you back to reality. "You're safe. I've got you."

The investigation at the Gojo estate started within an hour of the attack and was still ongoing the next morning. Members of Jujustu High's Tokyo staff came to help with investigation and cleanup. After they debriefed you, Satoru asked Suguru if the two of you could crash at his apartment for a while, just until he was sure that the location of this estate and the others under the Gojo name were secure. Suguru agreed, leaving with you in tow so you could get some rest and to make sure you were well protected.

Now, those involved in the investigation met in the estate dining room. The chandelier light played off the ancient mahogany walls, overshadowed by the streams of golden sunlight bleeding through the skinny, arching windows and glinting against the many colored alcohol bottles sitting on the flight of shelves against the opposite wall.

Nobody reached for a glass though.

The first one to speak was Ijichi, having entered the room minutes after everyone else. "We have identified the female curse user," he said, passing off a matching folder to each person sitting at the table. "Her name was Kawate Kiko, a curse user who has been hired by many crime organizations and other private buyers for her skills, both in hunting humans and curses."

"And her cursed technique was mind control?" Yaga began.

"No."

All the heads turned to Satoru, sitting cross legged, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. He had switched out his t-shirt and sweats from earlier to his official uniform. "It wasn't mind control. She was able to manipulate knives telepathically at rapid speeds, at numbers probably close to 100."

Shoko set down the file. "Do we have any clue who may have hired her and these men? Or what their motive may have been? Perhaps she hired them to help her."

Yaga grumbled. "Well, if someone didn't blow her face off-"

"Sorry that I didn't give a fuck. Not when she was holding a knife to my wife's throat," Satoru said lowly and firmly. The room went quiet before he sighed and spoke again. "Things don't add up. The men, we know, were all ex-convicts and low lives of local Tokyo crime rigs, with little to no connection to one another or any part of the jujustu world. They would have had no reason to suddenly band together for a hunt like this, especially with someone of Kawate's caliber. Secondly, the man that I hunted down in the forest said he didn't know why he was there and that someone, a he, was preventing him from remembering. Not she. And with 30 non-curse users getting through the estate ward barrier with guns and armor they had no money to possess... there had to have been someone else here tonight with those assets and that technique. Someone with enough caliber to hire someone like Kawate to play along with them. Someone behind the scenes of everything."

"But I thought they were after (Y/N). Why the hell would the other guy not show himself after Kawate was killed?" Kusakabe grumbled.

"Cowardice? Maybe realizing that the entire operation was an impossible job and decided to flee?" Shoko proposed.

Yaga leaned back in his chair. "What doesn't make sense is that someone must have had access to these wards or known how to manipulate them. No one else has access, right?"

Satoru shook his head. "I'm the only person alive that should know how to work mine, but that doesn't mean someone somehow could have been taking the time to study them and learned to break them. But that would also require an insane amount of energy, not to mention the knowledge behind such ancient artifacts."

"But who would try that when they know you could detect them from miles away?" Kusakabe countered.

"I wasn't home this past week, and (Y/N) can't detect them," Satoru pointed. "They must have done it then."

"Do you know who was here, then?" Yaga questioned.

"(Y/N) never mentioned visitors. I could always ask her to see," Satoru replied. "Anyways, tell my students they have the next week off. Little impromptu study week. I'm going to find the clowns that started this," Satoru groaned, stretching as he pushed back his chair. "You guys can handle the rest here, yeah? I'm pooped."

"But this is your house-" Yaga protested, but didn't continue as Satoru meandered out the door.

Suguru let him in to his complex at 9:26am, riding up the elevator and walking down the hall to his place. Satoru always envied Suguru whenever he walked into this apartment, that he had a place to be truly his. Well, as much as Mimiko and Nanako, his adoptive daughters, would let him, with their free range on the decorating. Suguru had saved the two of them with Satoru's help from a village that meant to imprison and abuse them. Shortly after, Suguru had bought this place with what money he had amassed over the years, a home for him and the girls, one where they could heal and form a sense of new identity, Suguru included. And for him, that meant taking the two seven year olds under his wing.

Suguru said something about how had he had been going over the reports that Ijichi had dropped off before he arrived, and while Satoru was happy to catch him up, he just wanted to talk to you, see how you were holding up.

"I think she's still sleeping," Suguru informed, probably sensing his unease. "She didn't end up going to bed until early this morning. She wanted to go take a walk, but I convinced her tea would be better. That was at 4am, and I haven't heard her since."

Satoru thanked Suguru, and walked down the narrow hallway to the guest bedroom, one that he had grown accustomed to staying in when the estate felt too big and he felt too lonely. He pried open the door softly, peering through the crack to see your form under the blankets, and stepped inside. He made quiet work of changing out of his uniform, picking out a pair of pajama pants you had folded and neatly packed into his duffel bag before you left, and sat on the edge of the bed opposite of you, the bed creaking under his weight.

He observed how you were curled into a fetal position, your arms wrapped around a pillow (that he instantly grew envious of), and while the sight would have made him smile, he could see the other things too. Your hair looked unkempt and limp, you were still wearing the same clothes, and he couldn't smell your usual vanilla and lavender bath oil, meaning you probably didn't shower. Besides the wanting to take a walk, Suguru never mentioned you wanting to cook or read or maybe even clean, activities that Satoru had known you to do when restless or stressed. You probably only passed out from pure exhaustion.

He hated he couldn't have been here sooner. Hated that he told you to stay inside. Hated he didn't just deal with the problem as soon as possible before they could draw you out like that. Hated that he had just come home and now you both have these other problems to deal with.

He was going to have ask you more questions when you got up too, but for now... he needed sleep. Badly. Didn't even care how much he needed a shower right now or that he was about to sleep next to you in the same bed for the first time.

Satoru got under the blanket, the bed just big enough for there to be about a foot of room between the two of you. He turned on his side and stared at your back, wanting to close that distance so desperately, to pull you right into his chest, into his arms, and to feel your warmth and your breathing against him to remind him that he was next to you, and that you were safe. To feel your hair against his face and neck, your skin underneath his fingertips.

Instead he just stared. And then slept.

When Satoru awoke again, the sun was already setting. As soon as he arose to look for you, Suguru's girls were already dragging him down towards the living room floor to stick butterfly clips and extensions into his hair. It wasn't until he was able to turn in the direction of the kitchen that he saw you stirring something over the stove as Suguru stood next to you, a drink in his hand as he spoke softly. To his surprise, you replied to each thing he said with equal calmness.

Shortly after the two of you had married, Satoru did want to introduce Suguru to you, but after seeing how you reacted to being around just him, he didn't want to put you into a situation you might be uncomfortable with. However, it seems now that maybe Satoru didn't have to worry. You two appeared to have similar personalities anyway. He's surprised he didn't think of that to begin with.

Even as the girls stepped around him from where he sat, Satoru could barely make out the bruises from where Kawate had gripped you whenever you turned to face Suguru, who seemed to have gotten you onto the topic of whatever dinner you were making. Good. Getting your mind off the past 24 hours will help you to better process everything later, when Satoru would inevitably have to ask more questions.

It was odd. Normally, you would let him know you were having visitors coming over the second you knew. Unless since he was gone you decided to not tell him, or maybe they came over unexpectedly? Whoever they were, they would only be able to study the wards from the inside, so anyone who would have visited the estate is a potential suspect. His staff had all been questioned that morning and ruled out as well, so it had to have been anyone you had contact with from outside the estate wards.

And what was Death Immunity-

Satoru's thoughts were interrupted by the girls shoving a handheld mirror in his face for him to look at his new hairdo, the white tuffs of his hair being littered with colorful bits like confetti frosting. "Wow, you two, I'm gorgeous! What's next? My nails? My face?" Satoru exclaimed, touching up his hair and making faces that made the girls squeal in fits of giggles.

"How about dinner?" Suguru chimed in, arms crossed as he stood before the three of them with a smile. In the background, you were busy pouring whatever was in the pot into bowls for the five of you, adding ice cubes into the girls' portions.

Satoru stood, letting Nanako and Mimiko drag him into a chair between the two of theirs as you and Suguru sat across from them. Suguru helped you carry the bowls filled with a veggie and beef stew to the table with glasses of water to drink. The spirited conversation of the children kept the table from going completely silent, which Satoru was thankful for, but he kept his eyes on you throughout most of the meal, watching as you smiled sometimes and nodded but never really gave much input into anything. He knew you were still trying to work through everything that happened. In fact, given your reaction, maybe last night was the closest you've ever actually been to death. The jujustu community had become so desensitized to it that even he forgot to check in on how the view of a smoking corpse or the feeling of a blade to your skin may have affected you.

Soon enough the two of you were beginning to hand wash the dishes, Satoru giving Suguru a thankful nod as he guided Mimiko and Nanako to their rooms when they tried to pull Satoru back to their makeshift salon. You and him fell quickly into a rhythm, with you washing something before handing him it to dry, the light over the dining table behind both of you providing enough visibility.

"Geto is a nice man. Those girls seem to appreciate him as well," you murmured, taking Satoru a little by surprise. He didn't expect you to speak up.

"Yeah, he's a good guy," Satoru replied. "A great sorcerer too as much as he is a dad. I'm lucky he's my best friend."

You hummed and smiled to yourself. "That's good."

After a moment, Satoru snickered, "So, you think he's attractive?"

You furrowed your brow, holding the newly washed dish away from him as you turned your face in his direction. "Satoru, that's not funny."

"You're not denying iiiitt~" he sang, smiling wider and pointing at you with the towel.

"No, I don't think that. Why would you say that?" you muttered sharply, handing him the bowl you had in hand before reaching for the soap to scrub the pot. "Well, you two seemed to be chatting it up over here while you were making dinner," he teased, laughing to himself. He didn't even know why he was asking these things. He knew teasing you was normal, but why about this? Why now? Of course he wanted to take your mind off of things but-

"He was talking to me about you, Satoru," you replied, a slightly hardened look on your face. "I don't want you to think that-"

"Think what? That you might have feelings for someone? Shh, it's okay, I won't tell," he whispered with a laugh. You were talking about him? "Really, (Y/N), your secret-"

"Satoru, why are you asking me this?" you interrupted, handing him the last pot. "Why are you..." You shook your head before continuing, opting to walk to the bedroom you two were sharing. "Wait, (Y/N)-" Satoru set the pot into the sink with the towel, his large steps quickly catching up with you as the two of you stepped through the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." "I know," you murmured, gently sitting on the bed. "I know you're just... trying to take my mind off of things, which I appreciate. But-"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done it like that, I know. That was a kinda dick way to do it," Satoru said, scratching that back of his head. You grit your teeth, folding your hands in your lap. "It's okay... I understand." After a pause you added. "I've been worried for Sugar this whole time." "She's okay. We just want to be sure she's safe before we can have custody of her again. And don't worry, Shoko has cats of her own. She knows how to treat them good." Satoru made sure it was Shoko that got to examine Sugar and not someone that would cut her open and dissect her like some common animal. You nodded along to his words, staring at the wall ahead.

"I... the other sorcerers at Jujustu Tech. They wanted me to ask some things... if that's okay. If not we can wait till later-" he began. Maybe be shouldn't bring this up now. "Didn't they already ask me questions?" you muttered. "Yes, but..." Satoru kneeled in front of you were you sat, taking your hands in his. You almost had to stop yourself from letting out a laugh at the butterfly clips still in his hair. "(Y/N), it's imperative that you answer me honestly when I ask this."

Your eyes met his, your eyes narrowing in confusion. "Ask what? What more is there to ask?"

"Was there anyone that visited you during the time I was gone? Anyone that normally would not be at the house?"

Your mouth opened to speak, the answer clearly on the tip of your tongue. "W... why? Do you think they did this? How? Was it not somehow that woman that you-" "I don't know, (Y/N), but what I do know is that if there was anyone you would have known about being on our property that is otherwise not welcome, they may have had a hand in destabilizing our wards, and I want us to be safe so we can return." Satoru squeezed your hands once more. "Was there anyone?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. Once. Twice. You sighed. "My brother, Keisuke."

Your brother? "Why did he come?"

You shook your head. "No, Satoru, he would never do anything like this-"

"(Y/N), I'm not saying he did but I need to start somewhere so that I can ensure that you and our home is safe. You understand, right?" Why were you so defensive suddenly? What did your brother do there?

"It wasn't his fault. There was no way he would have had any involvement! He wouldn't want to-"

Satoru stood. "You were almost kidnapped! You could have died-"

"And so what if I did!"

A beat.

"What."

Your hands clasped over your mouth. You looked like you were about to apologize. Satoru stood. "(Y/N)." Your fists clenched. You were probably holding back tears. "(Y/N). Don't you ever, ever, say something like that about yourself." "I'm sorry-" "Don't apologize," he hushed, now moving to sit beside you, an arm around your shoulders. "Just... you don't have to." The two of you paused for minutes, not saying a word. He suddenly began to feel guilty, both for his teasing and for pressing you for details when the attack barely happened 24 hours ago. Hell, you could have died not too long ago, and now he was treating you like this. "We can talk about this later," Satoru murmured. "It was wrong of me to bring it up." "No... it's alright," you whispered, hands coming to fold in your lap. "I'm sorry for arguing with you and... for my outburst." "Don't sweat it." "Is this what's its like to have an argument? And to then forgive immediately after?" "Yeeeep." He added a little pop at the end. "It feels wrong. But civil. But... wrong." "Well, that's because most arguments just feel wrong. I like to think of them as passionate conversations, albeit sometimes with more hurtful comments or name calling." Satoru stood and started walking to the bathroom. "But we didn't call each other names..." you murmured. "We can right now if you want stinkybutt," he replied, turning to lean against the doorway while crossing his arms. He nodded in your direction. "Okay then... uhm... asswipe." "Woah, bringing out the big guns I see." Satoru placed a hand to his chest as if hurt, a playful grin on his face. "I didn't even know you knew how to curse, old lady!" You dropped your mouth in a playful shock. "Well, I'm just imitating the best potty mouth I know, pompous bitch!" He snickered before firing back. "You little asshole!" "Bastard!" "Fucker!" "Dick!" "Motherfucker!" "Dick for brains!" "Pretty girl..." Your next insult halted in your throat, his little purr of those two words forcing a red shade to your cheeks. Before you could react, he spun into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it with a click. "H-hey, that wasn't fair!" you protested, getting up from where you sat on the bed. "What?! Can't talk right now I'm taking a shit!" he yelled back, the shower turning on immediately afterward. You just shook your head, smiling as you sighed. You changed into your nightgown, figuring you might as well lay down and wait until he was done so you could brush your teeth. Was it really only a few minutes ago that the two of us were fighting? The conversation shifted so quickly. Did he do that on purpose? While almost any argument you had ever had ended quickly, it was almost never forgotten nor forgiven. Its reminders sometimes stayed on your body for days at a time. Either way, you were grateful. He was so good at distracting you from things, even things like near death experiences. Distractions. Was this what this was? You still went to bed feeling lonely each night, but the next day he made you forget that you ever did. Maybe that was all you needed, all that anyone ever needed. To go to bed lonely, wake up, interact, forget, and then remember. You spent so much of your days alone before all of this. Does this mean you've become something normal? Perhaps. But was it still normal to feel incomplete?

You were so busy contemplating and staring at the wall that you didn't notice Satoru beginning to sit on the other side of the bed beside you, hair free of butterfly clips. Your thoughts broke when you heard the bed creak, making you turn over to face him.

His shirtless body was backlit from the brightness of his phone screen as he sat on the edge of the mattress. As he scrolled, you quickly noticed the faint scars that were littered across the impressive expanse of his back. Were they from trainings, or from actual battles? Either way, you were surprised that he had any at all because of his technique. You assumed this whole time that his skin would be completely unblemished from any kind of visible injury. Not that you're thinking much about his skin...

Your thoughts were broken again when he plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and turned it off. Despite your panic, you didn't move from how you were laying.

Satoru didn't seem to mind. He stretched his arms above his head, shoulders and biceps flexing, as he turned and got underneath the covers. He snickered when he found you already looking at him. "See something you like?" Satoru muttered deeply, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

He didn't need a light to be on to be able to see the color on your cheeks, but he chuckled as you tried to turn away all flustered. "Hey now, I'm just joking. I'm sorry." Satoru placed a hand to your shoulder, motioning for you to face him again. The skin of your shoulder was surprisingly cold, but that didn't take away from its silken feel. You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek as you murmured an apology.

You'd never shared a bed with anyone in your life. It was odd, but with Satoru, you didn't feel too uncomfortable luckily. You've heard horror stories about other women sharing beds with their husbands. The snoring, the problems with space, being too hot or too cold, too many blankets and pillows or too little, the types of mattresses they preferred, etc. While you did share a bed with him last night, there was no telling if he had any of those issues since you were already asleep when he came to bed.

However, you did remember how he looked when he was still asleep after you woke up. It was... too peaceful of a look for a man that had just killed for you less than 24 hours before.

He had killed for you. And now you were sharing a bed with him.

Killed. Well, you knew way before marrying him that he had done such before. Why does this suddenly change your perception of him?

Yet despite that, you assumed he was a sound sleeper, which you could be thankful for even though you probably will not have to share a bed with him much in the future. It's quite interesting that an attack is what led to you both doing so for the first time. You'd like to wonder what would have had to happen for you to see him asleep like that without the current contexts.

What a weird thing to think about.

"Goodnight (Y/N), sweet dreams." "Goodnight Satoru."

Before long, you were realizing it was going to be very hard for you to fall asleep. You tried counting your breaths to focus on doing so, something that would usually have you out in no time.

You counted up to 256 before deciding to give up.

Your head turned to where Satoru was laying with his back to you, his breaths steady. Once again, your eyes caught the scars of his back that barely peaked over what the blanket covered.

You let out a heavy breath.

"Satoru." "Mmmm?" He's awake. "How did you get the scars on your back?" "Oh y'know," a yawn, "mostly sparring and whatnot. Maybe a curse here or there." "Oh." "Oh?"

You paused a little. "I thought... your technique prevented others from being able to touch you. I thought that..." "That I was indestructible?" He chuckled, his voice low. You shifted a little. "I'm sorry, I-" "No, it's fine. You don't have to apologize for asking." After a moment, Satoru added, "As you probably... have noticed, it's important for me to be able to defend myself without my technique to aid me, to prepare for any worse case scenario. Lot of these are curtesy of Suguru being too rough on me, heh. But... I was never always a full expert when it came to my technique, contrary to what most people believe. I had to become an expert. These just show part of the path to doing it."

You hummed in response.

"But don't worry, they don't call me The Strongest for nothing. I'm fully capable of protecting-" Satoru paused when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

Just before he could register it, you quickly moved them away, withdrawing your hand beneath the covers. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No," he murmured, shifting himself to face you now, his head propped up by a hand as he reached to grab your hand and place it right over his heart. You stared at where his palm held your fingers against the expanse of his chest, his skin warm and dare you say inviting.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, your open gaze locking onto his sincere one, "just because my technique prevents others from touching me doesn't mean I don't like to be touched."

Your mouth slightly agape, you took in the planes of his handsome face against the rays of a streetlight coming in from the window, hitting the blinds and creating stripes against his face in the dark. One of those stripes hit his eyes, which you took in first, and made your way down, observing the clean slope of his nose, his shaped lips, down the curve of his neck to your hand and back up.

The way Satoru looked at you then, he knew. He knew that you needed him, but not in some passionate or carnal way, but in a way that someone wants cream and sugar in their coffee, or a candle in their book nook on a rainy day. Something familiar, yet more. And even if he had just killed someone yesterday for you, to protect you, he was still the person that you found comfort in each day. That made you feel somewhat worth something more than a last name a potential asset.

"You look cold." The timbre of his voice could have probably warmed you from the inside out, but only for a moment.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then c'mere pretty girl."

Did Satoru expect last night to go the way it did? Definitely not. But when he felt you take the little extra initiative to barely touch his back, he knew he had to make it go that way.

He didn't anticipate or really want anything more than just the cuddling. It didn't take long for you to warm up and fall asleep, listening to the sound of his heart. He was surprised that you didn't ask why it was beating so fast, let alone fall asleep as swiftly as you did while having to hear it.

But he was right, your body did fit perfectly against his. Your head had rested against him sweetly, cushioned by that spot between his chest and shoulder. His arms had wrapped around you, his hands finding purchase on your back and waist. The position of his chin on your head gave him perfect access to kiss your forehead if he wanted to, but he didn't want to push the boundaries too far.

Okay, maybe he ended up giving you two anyway. He tried to hold out and lasted probably about 30 minutes. He just couldn't help it! Not to mention, you smelled so good-

He was half tempted to give you another one right now as you two lay here the next morning, with you still blissfully unconscious. On the nightstand behind you two, your phone began to buzz with a call. Whoever was trying to get you awake right now could go to hell. He didn't want this moment to end.

However, even after the person had called you another time, and then proceeded to leave four more texts, Satoru figured he would see what the fuss was about.

He strained to reach behind him, careful not to disturb your slumber, as he grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Turning it on, he smiled at the already established lock screen of Sugar before noticing the messages.

Keisuke Kamo

Hey, glad to hear you're alright. Just heard about the attack last night.

Keisuke Kamo

I know I had just visited recently, but we need to talk. In person, preferably.

Keisuke Kamo

Just call me back when you can so we can set something up. Please bring Gojo Satoru with you too.

Keisuke Kamo

Please (Y/N). This is serious...

Turns out Satoru wouldn't be able to enjoy your brief solace for much longer.

Tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby--vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox @tqd4455 @stxrrielle @rebirth-of-destruction @yoichiislovie @thesoftugly @gojonegs

thanks for being patient <3

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