#is going to make the rug being pulled that much more satisfying to those that have been through this and are going to finally be right

[chirpsythismorning]

So are we gonna talk about how we have to face homophobia on a daily basis online and it has not once been addressed by Netflix or the writers like ever. And it's not like they do not see any of that stuff happening. It's happening basically HD on Twitter.

And the way they do not even bother to say something, even though they were the ones who teased Byler during the whole pride month. Literally, multiple queer fans felt like they received a slap in the face, yet no one said anything regarding the treatment of Robin and Will in this season. And all this happening during the pride month was trash. Never once addressing any of this and the treatment Will got from the show and by the fans... was a choice. Not to mention them constantly fueling homophobia on twitter or queerbaity posts are... a choice.

It's just simply disappointing and makes it harder to respect the writers.

I just want to preface this by saying that homophobia is bad. Obviously. It will always be bad and how I feel about that doesn’t change just because I’m not acknowledging it every time it occurs.

I’ve had asks like this before where I say pretty much the same thing every time, and so I considered not posting this bc I just sound like a broken record.

To be clear, the writers have posted in the past about how fans should be able to ship whoever they want to ship, at a moment in particular when people were hating on byler and non-canon queer ships in general. And so we can’t expect them to come to the rescue every time something is blowing up on Twitter. Otherwise, they would never have a day off.

Twitter is a cesspool and giving attention to it only makes it worse, that’s what it really boils down to. Once you open up that can of worms, it never ends.

It isn’t even just homophobia on there. Every form of bigotry thrives on that platform, where everyday they’re mad about something and demand everyone to confront it or else. And that’s just not healthy. Its not sustainable at all.

And to be clear, all sides on there have really, really toxic stans, including bylers. Not all of them are toxic, but it’s really hard to get by on there unless you can handle seeing that stuff on a daily basis. Some byler discourse on Twitter is a large part of the reason people want to claim all bylers hate El. And it's because of the toxic ship wars on there, where they always take it too far and create division by hating on Will or El or Mike, and then it stretches to the actors and goes on and on. All of that drama is best to ignore for your sanity. Confronting it won’t solve anything. A lot of those people, even when faced with common sense, still choose the road that revolves around hatred and disrespect without any remorse. It’s not worth getting worked up over.

Also want to make clear that the original tweet Stranger Things posted had nothing to do with byler. Shippers on Twitter will make any and every post about their ship and pressure the people running the account to post something. The comments are always filled with all sorts of tweets like that so it’s not just bylers either. This means it arguably could have been anyone that was called out for commenting something unrelated to the post. It just so happens that byler is getting a lot more popular, to the point where they do dominate on Twitter as a platform considering most of the ga doesn't even like milkvan anymore anyways, and a lot more people are open to byler. So I would imagine most of the comments did look something like that.

When it comes to queer-baiting from official Netflix accounts last summer, I do think that the only reason they did that stuff, like make posts with byler in the literal caption on tiktoks, was because it was during an official promotional circuit that focused on byler in the penultimate season. If byler is endgame though they couldn't disclose that, they arguably did exactly what they had to do. They had to refer to it by name to get more people aware of it, but also keep it subtle, and they especially had to drop it post vol 2 because s4 closed off in a way that wanted us to think milkvan was endgame based on the monologue.

The thing about queer-baiting and why it is so fucking shitty, is because it almost always leads no where. They do all of that stuff, with the creators behind the scenes knowing it will never happen. They mock and hype it up and get people psyched, only for it to lead to nowhere. That's how it's always been.

The point of how they are approaching byler, is to give the impression it's like every other queer-bait before, only to flip the switch. The beauty of it, is all of these people that have been wrong before, and were told they were be going to be wrong again, weren't wrong this time. And that's going to be even more satisfying after they pull the rug under those that were telling bylers to know their place and to accept that it's like every other queer-bait. Once and for all when s5 comes out, the roles will switch and it will be much more satisfying than them just laying it all out there at any point in advance super obviously.

Like people who are paying attention, know the message of the show goes against all of those things and those that don’t and insist that doesn’t play a role, are the ones who have to wait to find out, with them tuning until the very end only to realize they were the ones wrong.

And there is a difference between the st writers account, who is often an intern directly in very close contact with the writers, or the writers themselves potentially at any given time. Whereas the official netflix accounts are run by various interns connected to Netflix, with people above them calling the shots for official major posts. Though stuff like replies is often given at the discretion of the person running the account at that moment. Sometimes they say stuff that doesn't land or that was inconsiderate. I'm sure there has been instances of people being fired in the worst cases of stuff going down. But in this case, it really is just a case of fans being chronically online and making everything about ships when it never was in the first place.

Also, in terms of the writers, there is a strike rn so under no circumstances will the writers be tweeting at all, bc that’s the whole point of striking, not participating in writers duties. And that is literally a writers account for Netflix’s Stranger Things.

I also try to keep this rule for myself on here, but believe me when I say, you do not need to follow the crowd and give input into every drama that arises.

We have our own drama over here on tumblr too, so it's not like we're by any means perfect at all times. Sometimes one person says something and suddenly people are saying that a bunch of people are saying that even though it was only one person and now everyone has to give their two cents and you can't go in the tag without being bombarded with the same posts rehashing it from every which angle.

But you can choose to not participate every single time something occurs. You can choose to live your life without reacting to every given thing. That's just a lot better of a way to live mental health wise too. Like I personally don't want to be confronted with a bunch of homophobia in the tag bc one person said something. And that's also why we try to encourage people to just block the sloppy seconds anon, bc most of us don't want to see that in the tag. We come here for appreciation and making connections not giving homophobes a platform to spout their bs.

I will probably make a post about this again inevitably when the next big thing happens.

But just remember, the back and forth in general with these accounts messing with fans in regards to ship wars is far from over (well at least 2 years max).

Also keep in mind, we are on hiatus rn, so anything from ST accounts is going to be related to like press and merchandise outside of the show itself, which we saw with this one today that ignited all of this, was related to a ST game releasing...

When the promotional circuit finally starts, like in the months up to release, that's when you're going to see really intentional promotion that was planned ahead of time, months in advance, by experts and graphic designers working closely with people from the ST production on their vision of what they want to hint at in promotion.

The first promotional post for s5 we can look forward to, is the picture they are bound to post when announcing the first day of filming. With the strike it's hard to know when that will be, but once the strike is over hopefully with a fair deal made for the writers, that post announcing filming will be dropping soon after presumably.

In the mean time lets try to make this a space that isn't like Twitter where everything is so deep and we need to call it out. More often than not it's not that deep and the trolls don't deserve our attention in the first place. The best way to piss them off is to keep having a good time and ignore them. They hate that shit more than anything lol!

[gothghostiie]

having thoughts about price coming home from base and missing you a little too much

cw: manhandling, a single ass slap, fingering (reader receiving), gn!reader

he came home from staying on base for a while, he's always so tense after that. the stress from being a captain, the boys getting on his case, everything comes crashing down on him and he has no way to vent his frustration. sure, he can go to the gym or the shooting range, but it doesn't give him the satisfaction he needs. the only thing that does is fucking you, drawing those sweet, sweet moans and cries from you as he thrusts into you.

usually you make it to the bed or at least to the couch with him when he gets home, but somehow, this time not. he's more stressed than usual, and having you jump at him and hug him the second he comes home, peppering his rugged face with kisses and whispers about how much you missed him makes something in him snap. he drops his dufflebag on the ground and holds you in a tight grip, pressing his chapped lips against yours, you know the drill by now. you stumble backward with him, already knowing you won't make it to the bed so you aim for the couch - but not even that. he grabs you by the wrist to pull you back against him, a dark expression on his face.

"where do you think you're going?" he mutters, before quickly wrapping an arm around you waist to hold you up before kicking your legs away. he catches you of course, he'd never let yoh fall. instead he goes doen with you, tossing you on the ground with a hand behind your head to soften the blow. all you can do is gasp as he turns you onto your belly, pulling yout hips up in a rough movement. you don't even try to tell him to slow down or take you to the bedroom, he wouldn't listen anyway - and honestly, you don't wanna wait either at this point. he's pulling your pants down along with your underwear, hell he wants to rip it off at this point. he gives your bare ass a hard slap, gritting his teeth at the sigh of your hole, his already painfully hard cock twitching in his pants at your little wince.

"fucking missed you.. missed you so bad.." he whispers as he licks two of his fingers before pushing them into your hole, making you clench around them immediately while he works your hole open for him. you try to stay in place, not squirm away from him, you know it'd be futile. he's only satisfied when he has you stretched around three fingers, moaning and almost drooling from the pleasure he's already inflicting on you only then he pulls them out, leaving you gaping slightly. you let out a shaky breath, pressing your forehead against the ground.

"j-john.."

"I know, I know bird." he hums soothingly, rubbing your hip with one hand, the other opening his pants to get his cock out. he gives it a few strokes before shuffling behind you, rubbing the tip against your twitching hole, teasing you just a bit before finally pushing inside. a desperate, almost embarrassing moan leaves your lips, your eyes widen, he holds your hips in a bruising grip to hold you still. it takes him a moment to collect himself, he swears he'll cum on the spot if he moves now. he leans forward, leaning his torso over yours, placing gentle kisses over your back wherever he can reach for a good minute before straightening up with a groan. his grip tightens a little more when he finally starts moving, slowly at first, before the room is filled with skin slapping against skin, moaning, crying and grunting. it's a mess, it's loud, the neighbours are definitely hearing how much you missed each other, but both of you care far too little about anything but each other right now, and that won't change until you're both laying on the ground, fucked out and spent.

[swordfright]

please write that essay

I assume based on your timing that this ask is in reference to this post, in which case I'm sorry it took me a couple days to get around to answering! This is not gonna be super well-organized but here are my thoughts:

The lore tidbit about c!Quackity actually having WON the bet with Glatt is literally the best possible way that whole situation could have gone. It’s such a solid storytelling move and I respect cc!Q to the moon and back for confirming it, both because I think c!Q's actions after having won the bet are very in-character for him and also because this option is, simply put, more narratively satisfying than the alternative. I'll explain why I think that.

c!Quackity's whole character arc is about belonging and agency and, importantly, how the pursuit of those things can go wrong. When he first joins the server he struggles to find somewhere to belong and gets used by others. His later attempts to exercise agency in order to foster his idea of a safe and stable community (yes, I'm including Butcher Army here) largely end in disaster. So eventually, Q establishes his own country, his own place where he can control every potential element and risk factor, but arguably he does so at the cost of love and friendship and community, the things he wanted to foster and maintain and protect in the first place. His defining fears about community safety eventually become reduced to fears about personal safety. To me, it’s a very clear negative character arc. When Q makes the bet with Schlatt’s ghost and ends up torturing c!Dream for the revival book, the audience are led to assume it’s because he lost the bet and is still beholden to Glatt in this one final way.

The exact nature of his and Schlatt's relationship prior to Schlatt's death carries some degree of ambiguity, but it's pretty widely interpreted as an abusive romantic relationship, and I'd argue that canon supports this interpretation. They were engaged following the Manberg coalition, and we know their relationship was increasingly rocky during this period. If you subscribe to this particular interpretation of their relationship (which I do because again, I believe canon supports it), then this adds a certain weight and gravity to Q's bet with Schlatt's ghost. The bet becomes a horrible postmortem extension of this toxic relationship that has deeply left its mark on c!Quackity, and Q losing the bet puts him in a vulnerable position both psychologically and literally. He is still beholden to his shitty ex, despite having put him in the fucking ground. That's a powerful motivation to get the book and be done with Glatt forever --- so it makes sense that when Q started torturing Dream for the book, many viewers automatically assumed it was because Q lost that bet.

Personally, I never really liked that assumption, because I feel it lets Q off too easy. It's too convenient an excuse. It dismisses the horror and cruelty of Q's deal with Sam by allowing Q the plausible deniability of desperation, characterizing the torture as his final desperate attempt to escape Schlatt's legacy, i.e. “My abuser made me do it, I’m still being threatened and coerced, I’m not culpable for my own actions!” (Which isn't even a justification that c!Quackity himself would ever use, so it's frustrating to see viewers fall back on it. The c!Quackity woobification in this fandom is much worse than the c!Dream woobification but let's leave that discussion for another day.)

But then (BUT THEN!!!) we find out that no, c!Quackity didn't lose the bet, he actually WON. He didn't want that book for Glatt, he wanted it for himself. He tortured Dream for this reason and because he enjoyed torturing Dream, and it’s an amazing anti-reveal because it pulls the rug out from under you but it also makes perfect sense given the sort of person we’ve watched Q becoming over the course of the past year’s worth of lore content. It’s about cycles of violence! In a story that has been about cyclical violence from the beginning, this is a natural conclusion for Q's character arc. DSMP is a story about building as an escape, and escaping what you've built. And ironically, this reveal makes c!Quackity a perfect foil to c!Tommy because Tommy is an abuse victim who, in a lot of ways, strives to be better than his abuser (hello I realize this is a controversial opinion but whatever this is my post) and Quackity is an abuse victim who intentionally strives to out-do his abuser.

Finally, Q winning the bet with Glatt is like, the only option that carries any kind of narrative catharsis. Because if he’d lost the bet, it means that despite Q's tireless efforts to gain agency, he never truly succeeded and is still being used as a pawn. Which is boring imo! It’s literally “area man ends up exactly where he started," which can be a compelling arc but it's not the most compelling possible arc for this particular character in my incredibly biased opinion. Whereas Quackity having won the bet gives his character arc direction. The arc then becomes “area man strives against all odds to achieve agency, succeeds, forfeits humanity in the process.” Area man escapes cycle of abuse only to perpetuate it. Which I personally like because I think it's interesting!

It may not be an uplifting arc, but it’s an arc! It starts in one place and ends up somewhere else. It has momentum! Even though this reveal technically reflects “poorly” on Quackity’s character (idc lol he will be my forever babygirl no matter how many times he violates the Geneva Convention), it’s a plot twist that respects his character so much more than the alternative. There's only so far you can take a story about a guy being powerless. It's much more fun to tell a story where the powerless guy finally attains the agency he always wanted, but at a great personal cost.

(Coincidentally, this is also the reason I wish c!Wilbur's finale stream had ended not with him leaving c!Tommy but with him asking Tommy to accompany him to Utah and Tommy rejecting his offer. But I digress lmfao I'll be bitter about that storytelling decision on my own time)

Anyway, I think @elmhat phrased it really well when they said "We care about Quackity because of his choices." Not just what happens to him, but how he decides to react.

[tumblhurgoyf]

the problems with magic story

I really do think the current format doesn’t really work for the sort of stories WotC is trying to tell in Magic

like they’ve hired competent writers and there’s definitely stuff in their story that could be explored and developed, but there’s just flat out not enough room to do that. and this isn’t exactly an accidental problem, it’s built off of two facts:

1. they want a large cast of planeswalkers so more people can have a favorite and become more invested in the game through that

2. the amount of writing, number of stories, all that, is a finite resource and they’ve got a lot of data to show that the short fiction on the mothership was the most engaging and successful

but especially when a dozen of those characters are involved in one story it’s almost impossible to make it satisfying in all or even most respects. they can’t just cut characters because that’s a point of engagement and motivating people to buy more stuff

most of my favorite Magic fiction from the site is when you’ve got one POV character who is interacting mostly with just one other character, with a few other even more minor characters (Sacrifice remaining my all time favorite, but also the sort of epilogue of Battle for Zendikar story where Chandra is assessing the aftermath and summing up her friends (at least I remember it being Chandra, maybe it was another Gatewatch member) or most recently the story where Lukka gets compleated)

If you want a dozen characters involved then you need about six stories just to focus on two of them at a time (and then you’re deciding that half of them aren’t POV characters and exist mostly to serve the story of the one they get paired with essentially) plus perhaps another story to do the big final plot piece and showdown where they’re all present. like ideally I think you’d even have the space to luxuriate and develop the same events from two different POVs. like do the Vraska betrayal from her POV and then totally “new” story but now from Jace’s POV covering more or less the same time frame. you can do cool stuff with that

one of the two things from above has gotta budge. I think my ideal typical set would be one overarching POV character, the protagonist of that story. they’d get four or five of the main story articles. the other five would go to different characters and mostly at least tangentially link back to the main story

but then for big event sets with a larger cast you’ve gotta budget story accordingly. default for me would ideally be that any present planeswalker gets at least one POV story, and if they don’t then we should really examine their presence at all. not saying they shouldn’t be present, but it should come with extra scrutiny then. and those are just the “side” stories. you’d still have one main story that happens mostly from one, maybe two POV characters

maybe these sort of big team stories work better in comics? you can do a lot with images of a big cast of characters and word bubbles that text and even movies can’t accomplish in the same way. but if so then lets get some comics maybe, even hosted online. but this stuff isn’t cutting it for me in text, and it’s made worse because I can see the talent of the authors coming through and the bones of the story are there, even if I don’t like it all at a structural level. it’s good enough. but I’m not gonna end up liking it when it’s intentionally stuffed in a box it doesn’t fit

also it’s still really not gay at all. they’ve really pulled back/ruined that and that hasn’t changed. frankly it’s not worth much time generally until they take big steps to rectify the egregious missteps of the last few years but I think they just brushed that under the rug and decided it’s radioactive

[regarding-stories]

Hard to pull: Good Ret-Cons

Ah. The Ret-Con, Retroactive Continuity. At its best, a satisfying twist that recontextualizes everything. At its worst, a stupid rug pull.

When we think about it, it's often meant to introduce something that wasn't established before. But it's hard to distinguish from a late plot twist at times, because so often these go hand in hand.

Let's look at one of the most famous examples: Darth Vader is Luke's father. (Duh duh dunn! Kidding.)

As far as I know, this turn of events wasn't planned for when giving us "Star Wars: A New Hope". But it's ever-so-satisfying. Audiences in 1980 were apparently lapping it up, and there's the funny Simpsons scene where Homer spoils it for all those movie-goers standing in line back in the day. (Long lines for watching Star Wars being a thing back then.)

One of the key prerequisites for a good ret-con that it fits with established facts, mostly in not contradicting them. This is most often achieved by painting in a corner we haven't seen yet. But we know that this impactful plot twist came with a price, because it seems to contradict things Obiwan had been talking about so far.

This got resolved by Obiwan giving the somewhat unconvincing speech about "from a certain point of view." We learn that Obiwan has been hiding things from Luke which gives new nuance to their formerly perfect student-teacher relationship.

And apparently they liked ret-conning so much, they threw in Luke and Leia being siblings next - also impactful, but that makes their budding romance in the first installment, well, weird, retroactively potentially incestuous.

That's the recontextualization at full force. When we see those scenes with the kiss for good luck or Leia using Luke to get back at Han, they seem different to us, with us knowing something that the characters didn't know back then - nor the actors, since it hadn't been established.

Ret-cons work backwards in time, after all. They change the past and make us see it in a new light.

Fallout 2

Now, this might be a spoiler for some, but this game got released in 1998, so I guess we cleared the statute of limitations.

In Fallout 1, we learn that people hid in vaults to survive the nuclear holocaust. We also learn about the problems they had. Quite a few in fact, the broken water purification chip with no spare part being one thing.

In Fallout 2 it is "revealed" to us that for the most part, the vaults were experiments, and we get a lot more weirdness thrown at us. It's impactful because by this point we've seen a fair share of vaults, we think we know what they are for, and now the rug is pulled underneath us.

Here we see it again - if you manage to fit in with previous facts as well as you can, you can use a ret-con to make an impactful plot twist. This is put to good use in Fallout 2 to paint the picture of a Deep State government in league with Vault-Tec and Poseidon to do whatever they want, with zero concern for the population itself.

If you play Fallout 1 after 2 the whole story seems to basically fit into this new mold, that's how good it was in terms of ret-conning.

But ret-cons are dangerous and tempting, and they keep breeding more ret-cons. The Fallout 2 ret-con already put in question how humanity did survive. Was it stroke of luck? Being so resilient? And since the baddies were confined to an oil rig, how would they have remade the world in the first place? Part of this is covered by the Garden of Eden Creation Kit (G.E.C.K.). So now there's a magical means (come on, it's a suitcase-sized chemistry kit) to make a limited nice-to-live area.

But the seeds of sequel ret-conning were sown. Of course you need sequels to ret-con, else it's just a plot twist.

The Why of Ret-Cons

Lore, backstory, ret-cons... they typically serve one thing. You want to move the pieces into place to tell yet another story. Ret-cons are needed where you encounter problems with either established facts ("We need this to be somewhat different to work") or you want to establish new facts (better, but leads to "Why did nobody know or mention this?"). So you either change established facts or you add to them. The latter is typically more convincing and better-received.

If you change facts you need audience buy-in. What you're doing gives the audience something that makes it worth it, because you're changing something about how the world works. So you're effectively taking something away from the audience, or at least that part of the audience that cares about consistency and world-building.

In both cases, there's a question of pay-off - which is also true for plot twists. I mean, it's okay to make us gasp and give us a temporary emotional high. But ideally the ret-cons and/or plot twists give us something in the story from that point onward as well. Don't just yank us around, give us developments based on plot twists.

The new facts about Darth Vader, Luke, and Leia gives us new dramatic developments and conflict. Conflict with Han. Darth Vader provoking Luke into an angry outburst. This is the real payoff - this return to a consistent narrative unfolding from this point forward.

It's not just about undermining expectations or changing facts. If that was satisfying by itself, "The Last Jedi" (Episode VIII) would be more well-received and not considered the hot piece of garbage it is. It constantly destroys setups from Episode VII, quite intentionally, and it constantly throws plot twists at us. I was watching it on two separate long distance flights. It took me that long because every five minutes I went "This can't get worse!" and then it did. And I switched it off a few times.

Some people like that. I don't. It was really painful to watch, this lack of continuity. Continuity is a rewarding thing, so are setup-and-payoff relationships. There is a cost to pay with ret-cons, and your ret-con has to pay it - it has to better than continuity. It has to result in a better story. I think Star Wars succeeded here - by which I mean the original trilogy.

The Sequel Problem

Establishing new facts in sequels is best done honoring continuity. As I said, you best paint in corners where you don't touch the original, or follow developments implied in the original (but not played out). This often means new characters (like a change of management), new locales, new challenges.

All of this ideally abides by continuity. Ret-cons happen when you can't make your new facts mesh with the old facts - changing the past. This can be jarring. But as I said, if you manage to cast a new light on old facts, like the above examples, which qualify as plot twists (or, in case of Fallout, "lore twists"), this is usually received much better.

Tolkien did one of the former kind, though.

"The Hobbit", as far as I know, grew from a series of stories told to his kids when they were young. It's effectively a children's tale, and it has this feel of going in installments to this day when you read it.

When writing "The Lord of the Rings", Tolkien based not only a whole world-spanning conflict on that innocuous magical ring, he also reused Gollum as a major character into the whole thing. Gollum is woven into the story at several times, including his capture by the dark forces.

In order to make this work, Tolkien revised "The Hobbit". The version you might know is probably the revised edition, with a Gollum that meshes with the "Lord of the Rings" books. But the Gollum scene was rewritten, and other things adjusted to mesh with the world-building of those books to begin with.

So in order to pull of his major work, Tolkien revised his earlier work. This is a plain ret-con that changes things. To readers of "The Hobbit" it's also a sequel plot twist - "Wait, that magical ring is that important??" You wouldn't know from "The Hobbit" alone, after all.

In spite of changing facts, this change has been very well received, because the payoff is so huge. Yes, this might change what earlier readers had in their heads when reading the book. But "The Lord of the Rings" is so good, so enthralling, so captivating, it seems like people didn't mind. It's one of the series of books that created an entire genre and had enormous impact on authors and story-telling after, and also gaming.

Yes, Tolkien had to tamper with "the facts." But it's still considered worth it, so it's a ret-con with the stamp of approval from history.

A Straight-Forward Example Of What Not To Do

The longer you wait to change a fact, the more resistance from your audience you will meet. You're basically upsetting the foundation built over years or decades.

Nothing made this more apparent than "Doctor Who".

"Doctor Who" has been on screens since the 1960s (though with a considerable gap, mostly in the 90s). So fitting things into the continuity of a show based on time travel is always a challenge, especially since nobody planned forward for this.

Hell, they didn't even keep the original tapes. (Well done, BBC...)

So anytime you fit something in there, something else might break. Luckily enough, Whovians are tolerant of this kind. A lot of "Doctor Who" episodes don't really have a lot of continuity within the episode and resolve by "plot magic," after all. (Or so it felt to me, binging them.)

And while changes to the character in its many reincarnations have been controversial - like the 6th Doctor being such a dick during his run (redeemed later) or how the 11th Doctor became almost the center of the Universe, basically - there were things you didn't mess with.

Until the 13th Doctor.

It's one thing if you need to cram more reincarnations in to make the series continue in spite of "established fact." (This life extension happening during the tenure of the show-runner for the 11th and 12th doctors.) It's a whole another thing when you completely uproot the character's backstory.

Until the 13th Doctor it has always been clear that the story starts with the 1st Doctor. This is how the character remembers itself. This is what we saw on the screen (if we had access to the first episodes). Already ret-cons took place to establish some other behind-the-scenes facts (thanks, 11th Doctor and Clara, the Impossible Girl). But every Who writer left this fact intact.

Not the showrunner and writers of the 13th Doctor. They weren't satisfied with hollowing out the character until it was barely recognizable (see a really long but good explanation here). They wanted it to be impactful, they wanted major plot twists, and they certainly had a tendency to be unpleasantly preachy instead of entertaining or consistent.

So they established a Doctor before the Doctor, and this Doctor had been not a Time Lord, but a very powerful being that was horribly mistreated as child (actually tortured and experimented on) and from whom the power of reincarnation was stolen for the Time Lords.

I do hope that the main backlash for this lore change was not the fact that she was a woman of color. I really do. But frankly, "Doctor Who" had already been taking a nosedive in terms of writing, popularity was waning, the 13th Doctor herselfy already had been a poorly written, arrogant, judgemental character. And then they went to change one of the core facts of the setting after more than 50 years.

Fans were apparently not convinced that the payoff of all this was worth the destruction in terms of lore. The show lost viewers over time and against previous precedent, the showrunner didn't get to do another reincarnation of the Doctor. In a huge attempt of fan service, the original showrunner and David Tennant (technically, the 10th and most popular Doctor of the new run) were brought back to salvage this flagship show. (Not that the BBC always treated it like one.)

There was a sort of one-upman-ship going on here, you could say. Already under the Moffat era (the showrunner of the 11th and 12th Doctors), ret-cons and plot twists were way too common and used to invest us into a particular plot arc or season. But this one was too much, too far, and clashing with a central established fact of the Who-verse. Because people love their continuity of Doctors.

When Moffat inserted Clara Oswin everywhere into the time stream, he still paid homage to keeping this lineage intact, at best adding an unseen bit. But when you drop a setting-altering bomb that changes one of the facts that most fans care about after decades, you better be prepared to blow up in your face instead.

Frankly, I had high hopes for the 13th Doctor. A woman doctor seemed exciting. The flood of bad writing and plots and controversy that followed does not invalidate the idea, but it did burn it quite a bit.

Kinda convincing, kinda flat

Add too many ret-cons, and original ideas get undermined or become flat or unconvincing. Let's revisit the Fallout Universe, but let's look back at the Fallout TV Series.

In Fallout 1, the vaults were the means for humanity to survive. Playing that game you got the strong impression that everyone in there hailed from a Vault that opened at some point.

Fallout 2 already undermined this idea by the ret-con we mentioned above. The reasons why the Vaults were plagued with so many problems wasn't incompetence but malice and intent - the people in them were often used as lab rats, a fact that has been used for humor and weirdness in every Fallout game since.

Now, this setting "fact" was never that convincing. At least for the direct nuclear attacks, no power in the world can destroy every town, village, etc, especially in countries with huge surface area like, let's say the US, Canada, China, or Russia. (Though the fate of everything but the US has never been a real concerns of Fallout canon.) This is by the way especially true of China where huge swathes of the population are located in areas separate from each other by mountains and hills of all sizes.

I'm unclear on what the origin of most of the survivors in the later games was, but since we're already more than two centuries into the future, it tends to come up less and less. Also, due to the sheer size of the games in the 3D era you're not likely to keep track of lore the same. Fallout 1 and 2 were more focused experiences with good chances you saw most anything in it.

So, when the TV series "revealed" that most "plain folk" resented the Vault Dwellers because they were the rich folks sealed away while they descend from the outside, I balked. But I also looked it up, and yeah, it makes kind of sense. Most would be the descendants of humans that, by whatever means, survived fallout and nuclear winter with even less to go with than a Vault that experimented on you. Also, from the intro of the first game it was clear you had to pay for the privilege of being allowed into a Vault.

So, this actually works so far.

But this is just the tip of the ret-con iceberg taking place here, the writers moving one piece into place for the show's central reveal.

It was Vault-Tec all along. They sabotaged peace talks, they even wanted the bombs to fall, to make over society in their image. Instead of being a company relying on fear-mongering to extract money, they wanted to perpetuate themselves as the new humanity. Lip service was paid to the whole experiment idea by inciting the other companies to come on board and allowing them to do whatever they want. They also sabotaged clean, perpetual energy that would have ended the Resource Wars.

You could say, as a ret-con, that this kinda works. It adds facts. It adds a secret framework of privileged Vaults for the upper crust to survive as is. The ultimate dream of all villains: I, unchanged, in a world that completely is mine to shape. (Muahahaha.)

It doesn't necessarily contradict established facts. Vault-Tec was already part of the Deep State and a horribly corrupt company that didn't care about "the people." Vaults were already a privilege, experiments, and at times, a trap. And one sequel ret-con begets another. Fallout 4 already introduced working cryo technology.

But is it convincing?

Yes, the series has a message critical of capitalism, but it styles capitalism in a heavy-handed way, money being the root of all evils. You could argue this is the case, certainly, but it's the manner of delivery. Capitalism in the Fallout TV series is a cartoon villain, a cardboard cut-out.

The contradictions start to pile up, too. Vault 33 (where Lucy starts) is hidden so badly, it should have been raided by the Master (villain of Fallout 1) long ago. All the locations are right where the first game happened. This thing is nigh-impossible to miss. Then, for two centuries, everybody missed the existence of master Vaults that monitored the other Vaults - in a Universe that relies on a much more analog, visible technology than ours (partially to withstand the EMP effect of the blasts).

In fact, all of it hinges on the conspiracy being practically perfect until the point in time it is revealed. But when Norm enters Vault 31, he finds an incompetent Robobrain ... I mean Roomba-Brain (a former vice president) in charge. The whole plan seems to be full of holes and the usual Fallout Universe incompetence (corporations were always portrayed as hotbeds of graft, laziness, and maliciousness) is immediately restored. So, falls apart in minutes, was secret for more than 200 years...? (Also, Coop uncovered the conspiracy easily two centuries before.)

Depending on how you liked the series (I did not), you can be on the fence about this, definitely, or ignore it even for the most part. It kind of works, you know...? But it also flattens everything into one big bad, making it more cartoon-ish, more one-sided. The nigh-perfect conspiracy. The plot (and lore) holes. And again, how late the ret-con comes in the series.

The TV series is generally not afraid of establishing new facts (yet another Brotherhood of Steel chapter in yet another sequel popping out of the woodwork) or just changing the lore for dramatic impact (the fall of Shady Sands). Moving the pieces into place wasn't subtle, it literally comes with the force of yet another nuke.

It's this bulldozering of the lore I dislike the most. Fallout's big bads from the past kept getting more and more unconvincing as time moved on. Fallout 2 already established a Deep State hiding behind the whole Vault business - the Enclave. In "Fallout: New Vegas" Mr House (presented as sentient computer version of himself) was at least only one faction influencing that world, not a central big bad. In Fallout 4, the Institute perpetuated itself in secret for 200 years. And now Vault-Tec was the big bad all along.

It gets stale and flatter each time it is rehashed. And it effectively flattened the lore progression we see from Fallout 1 to Fallout 2 to Fallout: New Vegas. In that strand of continuity, the world expanded, went from tiny "points of light" to city states and proto-nations to warring nations. This was the potential future of the Fallout setting, a gradual emerging of a new, sometimes familiar, sometimes alien world. A different world influenced by the past but setting out to shape its own future.

But the writing of the TV series, while fulfilling the technical aspects of a ret-con, just drags all of this down because it's oh-so-dramatic. That's why I would argue on the side of it not being a good ret-con, though somewhat decently execute, but a cheap one. Your mileage may absolutely vary.

Less Sequels Please

In the end, continuity and ret-cons are issues most sequels have to tackle in some shape and form, and the popularity of plot twists and sudden reveals doesn't improve the situation. But at this point, ret-conning has been overdone and I could do with some continuity instead...

Or less damn sequels and more original works! Fallout 1 by itself is a weird masterpiece. We are apparently unwilling to let these go and create another, new one. For each good sequel there are quite a few bad, trying to minimize risk and smothering creativity. And in the end, often doing their fictional universes, if they "exist," no favor.

We looked at notable exceptions like "The Empire Strikes Back" but in general, I could do with some fresh ideas.

[ebitenpura]

merry early xmas to me!!!! thank you so much for this, I adore them dearly. sdfghjkl

Ironically, SoR - Alliance is the prime era of Eight's development when he's been shell shocked most into reconsidering the world around him and everything he's forced to reconcile about it. He's a bit...lost in this new galaxy, despite the same trappings of war dogging at his heels and the same path of violence he is forced to take to serve a cause, but the singular fact that he sees the same in someone else, that someone being Hyroh, would drastically alter his path. I think he'd clock that weariness in Hyroh right away, even at the start of a distant relationship. There's a certain...air of another warrior who has seen too many battlefields, and it's a look that few wear in either camp, but one he's familiar with, intimately. At this point, he can only guess and wait, and perhaps even try to get a feel for the Battlemaster whose hands seem so wizened from gripping a blade through idle conversation-- he would take an interest in the kind of person Hyroh actually is, but. Eight knows all too well the allure of letting the love of the fight do the talking, and for him, it is his most intimate form of communication, much like Hyroh.

I think they'd really have a chance to open up in the throes of battle, and Eight might even admit such a thing makes him both happy and nostalgic. That it's been so long since anyone could "talk" to him this way, and Hyroh might notice through their bouts that he fights like a different person over time: freely and joyfully, rather than the cold movements of an efficient killer. Eight doesn't think this alliance will last, but he sees a rich soul in Hyroh who he wants very much to learn about in as short a span as they have, and he'd give as much ground as he could to do it, because for warriors like the both of them, sometimes there is only each other. It's the comfort that you're not alone out in the world, bloodied as you are, and even if Hyroh were to reject him the further along they sort of end up at these odd meetings with each other he'd feel...satisfied. At knowing. At being able to have known. It'd blur the lines immeasurably for him, but he's far past caring.

Taizi on the other hand, would for all intents and purposes, pull the metaphorical rug out from under Eight with his approach. Never in his life has Eight ever been anything but under the thumb of the Sith, and he's been trained to survive spectacularly under that yoke... not this. There'd be a rather dramatic adjustment period with Eight dancing around Taizi trying to get the real truth out of his intentions, being so so careful not to step too far but just enough that it's...satisfactory, and Taizi would get the sense that Eight is trying to play his game, but not take the bait yet in a sense. He's more wary and suspicious than he is even with Hyroh, and that lies in his status as Sith. Power is welcome, but Eight is not easily swayed and...he needs more proof. Proof that this isn't part of a bigger plan to screw him over, crude as that is.

And I think, with enough time and purpose, perhaps even ideals if there are any, Taizi would break through those walls. What earns him Eight's loyalty and a man beyond a sword would be that earnest dedication to knowing him, time and time again, even if it's bewildering and almost frightening at first for Eight. There'd be rough patches, emotions that shouldn't be out in the open, but that's him responding to Taizi getting under his skin-- and that shakes him.

Anyways!! tysm for sharing your blorbo's and your thoughts i'm going to be stewing on this for. a very long time heehehe

for xmas i would like a written explanation on how everyone's swtor ocs would interact with eight

[mercurygguk]

the first year | jjk (m)

genre; parents au + established relationship au

pairing; dad!jungkook x fem reader

✎ summary; in which jungkook learns that his new life as a parent can be difficult at times and that it takes a great amount of patience, but even with all that, jungkook wouldn’t trade it for anything.

warnings; my weak attempt at being funny, jungkook as a dad, SMUT; sexual activities, fingering, swearing, light dirty talk, actual sex, jungkook being a simp for his baby mama

word count; 4,121

➵ READ PART 1 HERE

a/n; here’s a part 2 of my dad!jungkook fic - hope you like it, enjoy!! also, please feel free to give some feedback <3 didn’t proof read at all, ignore any possible typos thx

Parenting is anything but easy.

That is something Jungkook has learned after the first few months of being a dad. His daughter is usually very easy to handle, very peaceful at most times and over all a very happy baby. However, she likes to wake him up in the middle of the night with loud cries. At this point Jungkook can’t even remember what it feels like to get 8 hours of sleep at night.

Tonight seems to be another one of those nights. Her cries are nothing but irritation, not satisfied with the lack of attention. Jungkook has learned the differences in her cries from the way they sound and whether there are tears or not. Sometimes she’s only doing it just to get some attention when all she really has to do is sleep. She must have inherited her mother’s temper and need for attention.

A heavy sigh falls from Jungkook’s lips, eyes still closed as he waits a few moments, hoping she’ll fall back to sleep without him having to get up and go to her room. Beside him, his girlfriend and the mother of his daughter is stirring, turning over to face Jungkook’s back. Scooting closer, you reach out to touch his back, your palm running up and down.

“I’ll get her,” you softly tell him, speaking into the darkness before blindlessly pressing a kiss to the skin of his back. Before you can get out of bed, Jungkook is getting up. You watch as he drags his feet out of the bedroom and down the small hallway to where his daughter is currently having a midnight crying fit. A small smile sneaks its way onto your lips, knowing he doesn’t mind getting her in the middle of the night despite how tired he sounds and looks. 

There’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.

Jungkook carefully opens the door, peeking his head inside to see his 7-month-old daughter standing up in her crib, her hands tightly gripping the edge to hold herself up. He switches on the night lamp on her dresser, lighting up the room in a warm glow. Her big brown eyes with long lashes looks at him, no tears in sight, just a small mischievous grin on her face because he’s there to check on her again. The way she has him wrapped around her tiny pinky finger is beyond him. 

“You little tease,” he coos with a smile as he steps closer to the crib, immediately picking her up when she reaches for him. Once she’s in his arms, she cuddles closer to him, head neatly tucked into the crook of his neck. Jungkook sighs deeply in content, running his hand up and down her back as he makes his way out of her room and back to you in the bedroom. You’re still awake when he appears in the doorway, a knowing smirk on your face as he moves closer to the bed. You reach out while pouting, wanting your baby girl in your arms. She’s already half asleep again as Jungkook hands her over before climbing into bed.

Jungkook watches with pure adoration in his eyes as the two most important girls in his life are cuddling up against him. You glance up at him, noticing the small smile he always seems to sport whenever you catch him looking at you and your daughter. She’s fully asleep now, completely unaware of the way her parents are watching her with proudness in their eyes and hearts.

“We got lucky, huh?” You softly say.

Nodding, Jungkook intertwines your free hand with his.

“We really did.”

“You know what we should?” 

You turn to look at Jungkook, eyebrows raised in question. He looks out of the window in the living room, watching the skyline and tapping his chin as if he’s in deep thought. You wait patiently until he looks your way.

“We should throw a party for Areum’s 1st birthday,” he says. You give him a look only to receive one back.

You scoff lightly, “you don’t think I haven’t thought of that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Well, you never mentioned it, so how should I know?”

Pretending to be offended, you place a hand on your chest and let out another scoff. Jungkook chuckles at your silliness, scooting closer before pulling you onto his lap. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Of course, we’re throwing her a party. It’s her first one after all.”

Smiling, Jungkook rubs his palms up and down your thighs. Soon the smile falls from his lips. You frown as you watch it happen, his eyes falling to look at anything but your face. You know what he’s thinking, he’s mentioned it before.

“I can’t believe she’s already a year old soon,” he mumbled. You smile softly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair to remove it from his face. He looks at you again, a sad smile on his face now. “She’s growing so fast, it terrifies me.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” you coo, “but she can’t stay tiny forever, you know that.”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah, I know. I just wish I could slow down time sometimes.”

Your heart aches watching him being this sad over something so inevitable. He loves her so much and he’ll do anything to protect her, go to great lengths to get her whatever she needs. It warms your heart, makes you wonder if you ever could’ve found someone more perfect than him if you didn’t have him?

“She’ll always need you, Jungkook. Even when she’ll say she doesn’t.”

“Areum, sweetheart, no- watch out!”

You watch with wide, horrified eyes as your daughter climbs onto the couch and stands up, wobbling on her very unstable legs. You’re not quick enough to get up and catch her before she tumbles to the ground, her head thankfully not hitting the floor as hard as it could’ve. A loud cry sounds throughout the living room, tears welling up in her eyes as you pick her up.

You examine her for any injuries while cradling her to you. When you don’t see any, you press a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” you coo, holding her close as she cries it out.

As she sniffles against your shirt, a thousand thoughts run through your mind. Firstly, Jungkook must never know this happened. Secondly, you feel like the worst mother ever, the way you just let her climb up there without support and basically just watching her fall down and almost hit her head very badly.

“Oh, God,” you breathe out, letting out a quiet cry of panic.

The front door opens, your boyfriend’s humming sounding throughout the apartment. You listen as he kicks off his shoes and unzips his jacket. You quickly check Areum’s face for visible tears, hurriedly drying off the remnants with your sleeve. You press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, flashing her a smile before picking up a toy, handing it to her and pretending her fall didn’t just happen minutes ago.

“Hey babe,” Jungkook appears in the living room, smiling widely at the two of you. He’s quick to come closer, reaching out for Areum and picking her up. He smooches her cheeks with a smile, but it’s without her usual reaction of laughter. You watch, waiting until it hits him. His smile falters, glancing at you whose face is grimacing in apology already. 

The red spots from tears on her small, soft cheeks is what gives it away. That and how quiet she is when usually she’s laughing hysterically when Jungkook smooches her.

“Has she been crying? And is that a bump on her forehead?” He asks, turning to look at you.

“Yeah...” you trail off, wincing as your boyfriend stares you down in suspicion, “we might’ve had a small accident-”

“____!” Jungkook exclaims, horrified as he sits down on the couch with Areum in his lap. He examines her like you did when the fall happened, worry written all over his face. You sigh deeply, getting up from the floor to take a seat beside him. “How did this happen? Did you not watch her?”

“I did!” You quickly defend yourself, “she was crawling onto the couch and before I knew it she was falling down head first into the rug!”

Jungkook exhales, looking back at Areum who’s playing with the thin silver chain around his neck. The bump on her forehead doesn’t look too bad. “I guess the rug took most of the fall, the bump isn’t that big.”

“Oh God, I’m the worst mom ever!” You cry out at the sight of the small bump on your daughter’s head, wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm, your face hidden in his shoulder. Jungkook can’t help but roll his eyes. You always have to be so dramatic, thinking the worst about yourself when this could’ve happened to any parent.

“____,” he calls out, catching your attention. You sniffle lightly, lifting your head to look up at him. He smiles at you. “You’re not the worst mom ever, okay? You’re the best and this minor accident doesn’t define your entire role as a mother. She’s okay, look.”

You look at your daughter, her attention still focused on the silver chain, although now her small mouth is curved into a small smile. You smile at her, Jungkook does too. “It’s just a tiny bump,” he tells you, pausing before saying: “there will probably be much worse in the future.”

Gasping, you slap his upper arm causing Areum to let out that precious baby laugh. “Don’t jinx it!”

Jungkook is in a good mood, a pep in his step as he makes his way up to yours and his apartment, fully aware that you’re probably already cooking a delicious meal and making everything ready for your ‘date night’. The drive back from his parents’ place, where he just dropped off Areum, was filled with loud music that made him even more excited for finally having some time with you alone after God knows how long.

Once he steps through the front door, a delicious aroma of his favorite dish hits his nostrils causing him to let out a deep sigh of content. He quickly slips off his shoes and jacket before making his way to the kitchen. Feel-good songs are playing on the speaker and you’re moving around while preparing the food, singing along and just enjoying yourself. You’re not aware of Jungkook standing behind you, a big grin on his face.

Deciding to surprise you, he sneaks up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You jump lightly in his embrace, turning your head slightly to see that it is in fact the love of your life who’s hugging you.

“Hi,” you softly say, smiling when he presses his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss.

“Mhm,” he hums in response, “it smells delicious, baby.”

“Good for you that your favorite dish is the one I make the best,” you smirk, flipping the steaks on the pan. Jungkook chuckles before agreeing with you. You turn the heat down before turning around in his arms, coming face to face with him. Without another thought he leans in and steals a quick peck. He grins at you when he pulls back to look at you again. “Go get cleaned up,” you tell him, pushing him away from you.

“I love you,” he smiles sweetly as he backs away and heads towards the bedroom. You watch with a lovesick smile, your eyes automatically landing on his butt because it’s right there and you can’t help yourself. Something tells you, you won't finish dinner at the table, but in bed instead.

Sure enough, you stayed at the table until you finished the main dish. You had prepared dessert as well but Jungkook is in the mood for another kind of dessert – that’s what he had said when he got up from his seat before pulling you from yours and tugging you towards the bedroom. Screw the ice cream, you thought to yourself and allowed Jungkook to guide you to the bed.

Ever since Areum was born you’ve had few chances of being alone with Jungkook, enjoying his company and the love he always stores deep inside of him until he feels like showering you in it. 

It’s slow but hurried, it’s passionate and yet filled with desperation, it’s you and him together in your own bubble. Your eyes close shut as Jungkook traces your skin with his lips, his hands running over and feeling your curves and every dip in your body. His lips brush across the faint stretch marks on your stomach, his hands cupping your breasts softly yet firmly.

“God, you’re the most beautiful mama to ever exist,” Jungkook groans as he hovers over you, looking you up and down, noticing every single detail of your body and skin. You smile, a faint blush covering your cheeks as he dips down to kiss you softly. His tongue meets yours halfway, a soft moan falling from your mouth and into his. He swallows the whimpers you let out as he reaches down, fingers running between your lower lips, the wetness there evident to him.

“Jungkook,” you sigh in pleasure against his lips as he rolls your clit with his thumb, “more, please.”

He smirks softly, lips moving from your lips to your cheeks and further down to the top of your breasts, peppering kisses all over you. All your senses are on fire, the feeling of his lips, his fingers, his body against yours, the growing erection against your leg. Your hand reaches down to rub against it through his boxers, the only piece of clothing separating his cock from your clenching hole. You’re whimpering against him as the pressure from his thumb on your clit is edging you closer to your release.

“J-jungkook, please, I need you,” you gasp, you're moving automatically against his fingers causing more friction, “n-need you so bad.”

“That desperate for my cock, huh baby?” He teases, smoothly sinking his fingers inside of you, “you want me to finish you off now or would you like to cum all over my cock?”

You moan at his words, back arching up against him. “Your cock, please, wanna cum all over it.”

A grunt leaves Jungkook as he imagines it before him. It doesn’t take long for him to strip off his boxers, throwing them onto the floor beside the bed. You anticipate the stretch, already clenching around nothing as Jungkook lines himself up with your entrance. You reach for his hand just as he starts pushing past your walls, stretching you open so deliciously in a way you’ll never be able to handle without gasping in pure pleasure. Jungkook intertwines his hand with yours as he keeps it pressed against the mattress right beside your head.

He bottoms out, filling you to the brim. He breathes out heavily, his breathing ragged as he  lets you adjust to his impressive width and length. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” he rasps out as he pulls out and pushes back in, watching the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, “my pretty baby all fucked out.”

It blows your mind how he always manages to make it so dirty yet soft. You’re already a mess beneath him and he’s barely begun. “Oh god, Jungkook-”

A forceful push of his hips has you gasping, a high pitched moan tumbling from your lips. His hips connect with yours in a rhythm, skin against skin, the lewd sounds of your wetness and the feeling of Jungkook thrusting and grinding into you. His lips are back against your skin, your collarbones earning kisses and small bites, your free hand running from his lower back and up his spine to the hair in his neck. You tug at it, earning a grunt from Jungkook. Lifting his head, he looks you in the eye, his lips slightly parted as he works you both to your highs.

His eyes are soft while his actions are far from it, the look he’s giving you tells you everything he doesn’t say out loud. “Oh my god, I’m gonna- fuck,” you gasp, tightening your hold on his hand, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Me too, baby, me too,” Jungkook moans, leaning down to press his lips to yours, kissing you like it would be the last. He swallows your whimpers, your moans and gasps as your orgasm hits you hard. Jungkook follows you, his orgasm hitting him as you clench around him. He stills inside of you, moaning deeply at the feeling of you clenching and milking him for every drip of cum. He’s panting as he comes down, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. Yours and his breathing is the only thing you can hear in the room as you both try to collect yourselves. Your fingers are caressing his scalp as he stays in your arms, letting his weight rest upon you. Silence engulfs you and him, Jungkook’s breathing clashing against your neck, your fingers dancing across the skin on his back. You can feel his cum trickling out of you, but you don’t really care at this point, just enjoying the moment and worrying later about the mess that is the sheets.

Jungkook’s thoughts are running a hundred miles per hour as he lays in silence with you close against him. His thoughts shift from the first time he met you to when he first kissed you to the way you told him you loved him before he told you. Then his thoughts wander on to his daughter, the tiny person he created with you just from the love between the two of you. There are so many memories with you, moments and life events he shares with you. An idea pops into his mind, it’s something he has been thinking about for a long time, he just didn’t find the right time yet. He wants to add another meaningful celebration of life and love to the memories he shares with you.

He wants to marry you.

Jungkook already asked for your parents’ approval. They told him yes in an instant, reminding him that he has a child with you and that the two of you are already past asking for approval. That thought alone makes Jungkook chuckle softly. He really did things with you in a messy order. First he slept with you then he dated you. Then he asked you to be his girlfriend and then after a few years he accidentally got you pregnant and now he’s thinking about proposing to you.

“What?” You ask, smiling softly as you hear Jungkook chuckle.

He rolls over, his back hitting the mattress and pulling you with him to lay halfway on top of him. He smiles at you, his fingers reaching out to tuck strands of your hair behind your ears.

“It just hit me how we’ve done things in a really random order,” he tells you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion at his words. “First we slept together and then we started dating after that, then I asked you to be my girlfriend,” he’s grinning from ear to ear as you listen and he’s talking, reminiscing the years he’s spent with you. “I got you pregnant by accident and now we’re parents and I just…”

He falls silent, his smile faltering as he looks you in the eyes. You’re looking at him with those eyes that always hold so much love for him and Areum too. Beautiful eyes that can calm him at any given time, tell him everything’s gonna be alright without you saying anything. Jungkook would do anything to look into those eyes for the rest of his life. He could just ask you, right now in this very moment. It doesn’t have to be a candlelit dinner or with rose petals. What matters is you and him together in an intimate moment where all feelings lay in front of you, bared for the both of you to see.

“Marry me.”

You freeze, your fingertips that had returned to running over his skin freeze in their movement. Jungkook can tell your eyes are watering. You open your mouth to speak, a small voice coming out as you say: “w-what?”

Jungkook nods, “you heard me, baby,” he softly says.

“I’m-” You begin but cut yourself off. Jungkook watches as a wide smile spreads across your face, the first few tears falling from your eyes and running down your cheeks. He reaches out to wipe them away, smiling softly himself. “Oh my god,” you cry.

“So, is that a yes?”

Nodding, you crawl up to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, pressing your lips to his in a kiss. “Of course, it is! It’s a million times yes!” You say against his lips, pulling away slightly to rest your forehead against his. “I love you so much, Jungkook.”

“I love you the most, baby.”

Areum is 1 year old today.

She’s 1 year old and Jungkook isn’t sure how to handle it. His baby girl is growing up so fast and it both terrifies and amazes him. You seem to handle it pretty well, but Jungkook has a feeling you’re just very good at hiding it. There’s no way you’re not emotional about the fact that the baby you carried around for 9 months is already 1 year old.

“How’s my favorite granddaughter?” Jungkook’s mother coos as she walks right past her son and towards Areum who’s sitting on the rug in the living room, surrounded by her toys. Jungkook watches in disbelief how his mother doesn’t even give him a moment of attention, clearly only here to visit her grandchild.

“Mom, she’s your only granddaughter,” Jungkook deadpans before turning back to greet his father, “hey dad.”

Jungkook’s father gives him a tight hug before moving on to give you an even tighter hug. “How are you, ____?” He asks, smiling as he pulls away to look at you.

You smile in return. “I’m good! And you?”

“Same as always,” he shrugs, “not much happens when you reach a certain age.”

You chuckle at that, telling him to go say hi to his granddaughter. You watch as Areum greets his grandfather with a big grin, reaching out for him like she does with everyone she loves. You smile at the scenario in front of you, how Areum is the center of attention for all of her four grandparents. Your parents had arrived earlier than Jungkook’s, having kept Areum entertained for the past hour or so.

“Should we tell them today?” Jungkook asks as you join him in the kitchen, his voice low in case his mom should suddenly appear behind him. “You know, about that,” he points to the ring on your finger.

Smiling at him, you lean up and kiss him quickly on the lips. “Sure,” you agree with him, making him smile, “but remember it’s Areum’s day today. So we’ll just mention it and then move on with her birthday party.”

Jungkook nods at that. “Of course. Nothing is bigger than her 1st birthday-” he pauses at that, the fact hitting him once again. He then turns to you, giving you a confused look, “how are you not emotional about it at all? I literally cried when I gave her a bath last night.”

A laugh emits from your lips. “You cried? Because it’s your daughter's 1st birthday?”

Offended by how you’re finding his devastation humorous, Jungkook scoffs. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.”

You’re smiling at him in adoration as you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. Jungkook hugs you back, pressing his lips to your temple. Areum’s laughter flows through the apartment causing the two of you to laugh yourselves. It’s like sweet music to your ears when Areum has a fit of giggles.

“I adore her so much, ____,” Jungkook suddenly says as he watches from the kitchen, watching how Areum is surrounded by her grandparents, having the best 1st birthday. You’re constantly smiling, you have been ever since Areum was born. The joy she brought with her when she came into the world is unlimited and you feel like you’re on top of the world for creating such a happy, lively small human being.

“I know, baby,” you tighten your arms around him, giving him a squeeze, “she’s the best thing that’s happened to us.”

[sxfik]

let's talk about han seo, hockey and his relationship with vincenzo!

disclaimer: probably more unorganized than usual lol but i had a lot of thoughts on this. feel free to add on!!

hockey has been a connection to han seo that we have seen throughout the drama. hockey is a traditionally masculine sport, and focused on team building and brotherhood between the participants. hockey is also a violent sport, often very rough on the body and rigorous. the show utilizes hockey as a symbol of masculinity, and a representation of brotherhood, especially for han seo.

from very early on, hockey sets the dynamic between the brothers: the ice is a punishment and a reminder of han seo's relationship with his brother who uses hockey as a punishment for his brother's mistakes as well as a way to let off steam. the first notable utilization of hockey was prior to jun woo's reveal as han seok. we watch as han seo explains himself to han seok and han seok repeatedly hitting the puck into his stomach when angry and unsatisfied with the answers. this is the first real relationship we see between the two brothers. han seok uses han seo as a punching bag in order to let off his anger that he feels on a day to day basis and as a reminder to han seo of his place beneath him.

we can use this scene to infer about their relationship in their childhood. Mr. Nam has mentioned that han seo was abused by his brother as a child and has gone to therapy his whole life. as a young adult, he turned to drugs and partying and it is implied that he has wound up in the police station many times. han seok has used han seo as his punching bag and han seo molded his personality and actions in order to avoid provoking his brother. han seok has constantly reminded han seo that he is beneath him, both in blood along with intelligence and stature, and in order to satisfy him, han seo leveled himself down.

it’s important to note that this is certainly not true about han seo. we have seen that han seo picks up on situations much faster than han seok thinks (gummy bear scene), but refuses to let his brother notice as it can result in more abuse. the only reason han seo comes off as a bumbling chairman is because he isn’t as “cunning” as vincenzo or jang han seok.

it's also important to note that while there have been moments of a cordial relationship between the two, it is still an abusive relationship. even after moments where han seok has shown kindness to han seo, it is no excuse for the abuse that han seo has suffered. it is also not a reason to say that han seok is caring brother despite his abuse as he does not care for han seo beyond preserving him as an escape out of jail or death.

it's safe to say that han seo has never had a real brotherly relationship neither has he had a role model in his life and it shows in the early episodes. we see han seo mimic han seok's hockey tactics and throw pucks at his advisors (idk what to call them tbh) and even force the board members to drink spicy food without water (maybe this was a way han seok punished him when he was younger). han seo mimics his brother and attempts to be like him in these episodes. that is also why he sends thugs after cha-young and vincenzo: he is attempting his brother's scare tactics but it is clear to see that han seo is not the one for strategizing and well, being a villain. furthermore, we have noticed han seok's attachment to hockey sticks and how he deals out punishment (i.e. killing the prosecutor with a hockey stick, defending himself against intruders with the hockey stick, smashing in the car window glass with hockey stick) and han seo has bound to pick up this toxic relationship with hockey, and as an extension in the way he views his relationship with his brother.

we see this change as we watch the scene where han seo and vincenzo are on the ice together. both are stood opposing each other but in the same pose and in hockey gear. this establishes them as equals as both are equipped with the same armor and the same attack sticks. both of them have an equal chance at the puck. it heavily contrasts the scene we see where we see han seok, fully in armor and equipped to attack, and han seo in the lone suit with no protection or means to attack him back. we also note that when han seo scores, we see a genuine smile on his face and as vincenzo threatens light heartedly to "come here" and makes a move towards him, he playfully skates away. this is similar to how many brother's play on the playground together as kids: competitive but never cut-throat or attempting to maim each other. we also note han seo asking from approval from vincenzo, like a little kid would from their older sibling, asking if they did good, and vincenzo responds like an older sibling with playfully underplaying their contribution. we also see vincenzo granting han seo good advice to use/train his brain and asks him about his studies, the same way an older brother checks up on a younger one.

we can note that han seo feels comfortable around vincenzo in a way we don't see with his brother. vincenzo makes a move to throw a puck in his direction when he drops honorifics but we don't see han seo flinch in the same way that he does with han seok. even when vincenzo makes moves towards him, or gets closer he doesn't flinch, he just glides back. it shows that han seo trusts Vincenzo in a way he hasn't before. he also shyly thanks him for the advice and expresses a certain love to vincenzo, beyond just the admiration that everyone has for him (aka the vincenzo effect).

of course, we see han seo skate toward vincenzo and losing control but vincenzo catches him. he is caught off guard as he is caught though which might be telling us that han seok would have never made a move to protect his brother like that. even though i've seen many people criticizes the usage of "is this love" during that sequence, i don't believe it's used mockingly like adrenaline is. "is this love" is the song used when vincenzo develops a serious relationship with someone, most notably cha-young. what this song is doing in this scene is establishing a sibling relationship between vincenzo and han seo and noting that there is a specialty to their partnership, just like how cha-young and vincenzo's relationships are special.

most importantly (and what breaks my heart), han seo asks vincenzo repeatedly whether he will kill him. while this fear is warranted as han seo has aided han seok in many ways prior to him seeing the light and teaming up with vincenzo, we also know that han seo was fearful for his life with han seok. han seo walks on a thin line with han seok and never knowing when his life was going to end at his hands. han seok continually teased him and threatened him (we can infer this from the gummy bear and "are you going to kill me like you killed our father" and when han seok held the knife to his neck). not to mention, han seo now carries a watch gifted by han seok: a reminder that han seok has control over his life. han seo is continually fearful of when his brother will murder him and take that watch as his next trophy. except this time, we can note that han seo says something along the lines "i know you won't but i can't help but feeling uneasy." it really enforces how far han seok's abuse has hurt han seo. even with reassurances, he is still fearful that his brother, or someone he views as his brother will take it away from him.

it's important to note that hockey is a sport that emphasizes team building and brotherhood also encourages a little rough housing. han seok and hockey vs. vincenzo and hockey are the two opposite ends of what hockey is supposed to be as a sport. han seok and hockey empahsize the violence, and rough nature of hockey, where han seok is using the puck and the hockey sticks as weapons to attack defenseless people (han seok, those prosecutors, that poor car and also zumba snake choi and mr. han). han seok uses it to crush down han seo instead and leaves behind the team aspect. vincenzo on the other hand focuses more on the team building and brotherhood MORE than the violence, their scenes focused more on vincenzo giving advice and building han seo up rather than crushing him and pushing him down. we see han seo actually scoring and both of them being playful with each other, building a rapport with each other.

in episode 18, we can note that han seo is acting more and more like vincenzo (like how in the earlier episodes han seo acted like his brother). when revealing his hand in han seok's demise, he acts similar to vincenzo, leaning in and explaining how he pulled the rug from underneath his feet. we also see a new kind of boldness, a fire behind his eyes we don't see before this moment when he speaks to han seok. the same sport that was used to torment han seo has provided him the support and advice he has needed to turn his life around. i believe that having a genuine support system for the very first time has provided han seo the platform to change and grow, as well as gain confidence in himself and his abilities. in episode 19 and 20 i want to see han seo and vincenzo grow together and evolve into a relationship where both are comfortable and able to give mutual support and love to each other.

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || pretty little thing

note: am I simping for volume 12 cover sukuna once more? ...yes, and am not afraid to admit that. that man can glare at me and i will apologise for gracing him with my unworthy self lmao. but i do enjoy this entire idea of super mean and evil sukuna and his cutesy lover that can do whatever she wants to him and he wouldn’t stop her - not like he wanted to anyway lmao 

pronouns: she/her

warning: mentions of murder and acts of murder as well, and if you squint a little there is mentions of minors, but it doesn’t play a big role in the story

The small group of sorcerers stood before the towering man, trying not to show the fear on their faces as they tried to look at the glowing red eyes head on. Sukuna was seated on his throne, two of his four arms resting on his while another was propping up his cheek; the other tapping his fingers on the plush fabric of his throne. He hated having his time wasted on useless things, and the socerers before him were starting to wear their welcome too thin.

Sighing tiredly, he tilted his head back, a sign that had the sorcerers tensing up. They knew that body language all too well - if they do not tell him what was the purpose of them coming all the way to him temple, and even daring to walk up to his alter will lead him to murdering them all in cold blood. 

He doesn’t care how important they are in the town, or in jujutsu world either - to him, he is the most important. And everyone else is beneath him.

Well, everyone but one person, that is.

As if the Gods took pity on them, the soft sound of delicate footprints came from somewhere beside the group, causing the group to stop their whispers between one another at the sound of soft footsteps. Within seconds a beautiful woman walked out from the shadows and into the main room of the temple, her kimono trailing behind her delicately. The beautiful crafted garment hung on her frame perfectly; not too tight where it left little to the imagination, yet not too loose to hide her beautiful figure underneath it either. It was clearly crafted by a master craftsman, and the fabrics it was made of show how expensive it must have been.

A hana kanzashi was delicately placed on her perfectly styled hair, a streams of flowers hang off the end of the pin, giving the woman a more mysterious look as the sunlight casted a shadow over half of her face. She gave the sorcerers no more than an uninterested glance, trying not to roll her eyes at the sight of the group of mostly men - the same group of elders in her town that were so willing to sacrifice young girls to the man before them in exchange for peace.

She would know - she was one of those sacrifices, after all. However, the difference between her and the others was that instead of being killed after their purpose was done, Sukuna was now wrapped around her finger tightly. She can’t be too proud of it either; she was equally as obsessed with him as he was with her, so the better word to describe it might be mutual pining.

Sukuna will never admit that though, claiming she is just a foolish woman he likes keeping around for food and a warm body. But if she tries to get up and leave, or if he knows people are even thinking about bringing her harm? The world would suffer through Hell like they’ve never seen before.

Speaking of the man - Sukuna’s ruby red eyes watched as the woman made her way towards him, carefully climbing the steps of his alter like it was her own home; a soft pout resting on her lips as she walks closer to him. He didn’t get the usual burst of annoyance when anyone dared to look at him in eyes, or the anger he’d feel of having someone even daring to take one step towards the direction of his throne. Yet all he felt was amusement as he shifted in his seat ever so slightly; watching how the woman just made her way towards him and sat down in his lap like it was her throne.

Which it was after all, and Sukuna will let her indulge herself in such a luxury. He loves to spoil her, letting her do as she pleases

“Yes, my beautiful flower?” He hums softly as the hand that was once tapping his fingers along his seat reached up, stroking the apple of her cheek delicately as he raised an eyebrow at her. At that moment he didn’t care who was in the room - all that mattered was her. And he has a gut feeling he knows why she is currently sporting that cute pout of hers, her arms crossed over her chest adorably. “You’re taking too long. I got cold.” 

Immediately a low chuckle rumble from somewhere in his chest as his other arm wrapped around her protectively, his tattoos a contrast against the unmasked skin of her bare thigh that was revealed by his simple action of pulling her closer. “We can’t have that now, can we?” He cooed ever so softly, something so foreign and so unheard of coming from a cold hearted killer that it scared the already terrified sorcerers even more. A few of them were even shaking at the sight of the woman, who was a mere girl when she was scarified, now perched in the lap of such a fearsome creature like she was a lazy house cat.

How can such a relation be so natural?

“What a pretty little thing she is, isn’t she?” Sukuna suddenly stated loudly, his ruby red eyes now dull and clearly showing his boredom as he turned to address the sorcerers before him once more. The woman from before just smiles softly as she curls up into his warmth, not caring about the others in the room; quietly purring at the feeling of a large hand stroking along her face delicately. An action that might seem hard for a man his size to achieve, yet he still somehow manages to treat her like fine china beneath his fingertips.

“I should thank you for being blind enough not to keep a beauty like this for yourselves, but it’s because of your blindness that landed her in my lap in the first place.” Sukuna continued into the silent room, the hand that was once cradling his cheek waved in the air lazily; a smirk tugging against his tattooed face. “All the ones you sent before as sacrifices were quite sad little things; blubbering and whining so much that I rather send their heads back to you so you can see just how pathetic they really were.” He sighs in annoyance, his face curling a little as he remembered all the past women he had.

Some were pretty, yes - but there was just something about them that just irked him. He didn’t know what it was; maybe it was their constant crying, or how they try to pretend to be head strong and threaten to kill him in his sleep. He just took what he wanted before slicing their head off just as he climaxes; not really caring for their own pleasure. It’s not his problem if they were satisfied or not.

However, when his little flower came, sniffling with tearful eyes at how she had been yanked away from her loving family; yet eyes curiously staring up at the man that she had heard so many stories about. There was just something in him that lets him know that she was the one. That she was the one that is going to scratch that insatiable itch that he has whenever he is sent a new sacrifice from the town that he is currently residing in. And he was right. “Yet, with that being said, that doesn’t mean I am not growing tired of your antics. Speak now before I make you.”

Immediately a few eyes glanced over at the woman in his lap, as if they were silently begging for her to lend them a hand. Yet this actual caused Sukuna to scowl as he looks over at the group, snapping his fingers to drag their attention back to him. “Who gave you the permission to turn your disgusting gazes at her? She can’t help miserable excuses like you lot anyway.” He scowls, his eyes narrowing in anger at how they thought they even worthy enough cast their dirty eyes on her, as if she would extend the olive branch to them after they’ve done.

Before he can do anything rash, the woman decided to step in, gently placing her warm hand against the exposed part of his chest from underneath the kimono he had worn. The feeling of the familiar touch caused him to sigh softly as he leans back into his throne once more, but he glared at them with the same intensity as before, watching them for a moment longer. “You know what? I think I know what to do with you lot. I mean, I hope you didn’t forget - you did make my little flower cry.” 

Just as he finished saying that, he gave them all a sadistic smile before he swiped his hand in the air leisurely. His other arms immediately wrapped around the woman, turning her face away from the scene before them as the sorcerers all started to be sliced up one by one by invisible blades, the sound of wails and body parts flying about as they landed on the ground in bloody heaps. A few. who watched their fellow comrades be sliced up in horror before they tried to run, turning and running towards the entrance as if they can escape their fate. 

They should know better than to try something so foolish.

“The clean up is going to be a pain, you know.” Y/N sighed softly as she looks up at her lover, knowing that he was shielding her from the horrors he had committed. If she was being honest, she had never seemed to fear how easily he dispose of others - whenever he does kill people, it usually leads to a much more wider and bigger picture at the end of the day. What she can’t stand though, is the mess he tends to leave behind. “The maids just cleaned the rugs too.”

“It’s their job, flower.” He just sighs and shifted her so she was straddling his lap leisurely, letting her hands rest against his warm chest as two of his arms wrapped around her waist. One of them rested against her cheek lovingly, letting her lean into his touch once more whilst his other hand went back to cupping his cheek in his hand. “You can still make it less dramatic, no?” She mumbles softly with a soft giggle, to which Sukuna just rolled his eyes at her comment. 

“Why make killing so dull? I enjoy the flare of dramatics, flower.”

With a fond roll of her eyes she just leans forward to press soft kisses along his face, knowing that he will not push her away; not when his arms tighten their own hold on her. “Whatever you say, my King.” She cooed at him quietly, still placing feather-like kisses against his face as he closes his eyes for a moment. Soon he grew bored of them, and with a firm hand on the back of her head, guiding her face down to his. He presses a passionate kiss against her as she smiles, her hands trailing up his chest before they found themselves wrapped around his neck where they belong.

Maybe it was an obsession, or maybe it really is fate - whatever the reason may be, he’s going to make sure that his little flower is safe and content. Even if it means killing an entire army of people at her command, or tearing out his heart for her if she so much so as asks.

He is her slave, and he doesn’t see a reason to fight against his faith.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[itsallyscorner]

Hello. Could I request a Chris Evans x reader, where they have a little girl and she finds out that peple kiss under the mistletoe. So she's always running around the house with it playing matchmaker (obviously everyone is taller than her) and she's like: "Now you have to kiss."

This is the cutest request!! Omg🥺❤️ Thank you, hun! I hope you enjoy it🎄❤️

💌.

Under The Mistletoe

Major dad!Chris

(Gif from @cevanscentral )

Ever since Chris had hung the mistletoe up in the living room’s doorway, it had always caught the curious eyes of your sweet Audrey. Your daughter, like her father, was always full of wonder and anticipated to learn new things. She was always curious about her surroundings and had a never ending amount of questions.

Lately, the mistletoe had been the subject of her thoughts. She would wonder what the purpose of the mistletoe was and why it was hung in the living room doorway instead of the tree. Sometimes the little girl would find herself standing underneath the mistletoe, staring up at it as she tried to come up with some kind of reason as to why it were there.

One day, Chris had found his daughter standing underneath the mistletoe, her big blue eyes sparkling from the lights of the Christmas tree a few feet away from her. A classic Christmas cartoon played on the tv, though it was long forgotten by Audrey.

“Hey jellybean, watcha up to?” He crouched beside his daughter as he followed her line of sight.

“It’s a mistletoe, bean. It comes out during the holidays and whoever is underneath the mistletoe gets a kiss.” He explained to her as he gathered her into his arms. He stood up, resting Audrey on his hip so she could touch the festive plant.

“Do they really need to be kissed?” She continued to quiz her dad.

“Do they really need to be kissed?” She continued to quiz her dad.

“Of course they need to be kissed! It would be a crime if someone doesn’t get kissed underneath the mistletoe!” Chris claimed causing the eyes of his daughter to widen. Suddenly, Audrey cups her dad’s face and presses a giant kiss onto his cheek.

“I can’t go to jail, dada! I’m too young!” His daughter says, a hint of fear in her voice. Chris lets out a heartfelt laugh at his daughter’s reaction. His other hand comes to land on his left pec as he continued to laugh.

You walk out of the laundry room, having just finished throwing in the wet clothes into the dryer.

“Mama!” You heard Audrey whine. You rush to where her voice came from, which was the living room. You enter the room to see Chris red in the face as he tried to stifle his laughs.

“What did you do?” You eyed the two loves of your life. A pout is on Audrey’s lips, her brows softly furrowed together.

“Mama, dada keeps laughing at me!” She wiggles her way out of her dad’s arms and crashes into your legs. Her face was tucked into your thigh in embarrassment.

“And why’s that, babe?” You ask her, running you hands in soothing circles on her back.

“Dada said that if you don’t give kisses under the mistletoe, you go to jail! So I kissed dada’s cheek and he laughed!” An adorable little pout was set on her lips, her arms crossed. You give a look towards Chris, who was now silently laughing in the corner.

“Babe, why’d you laugh at her?” You asked your husband, finding the situation slightly amusing. Knowing your husband, he had probably teased your little girl to the point where she grew upset at him.

“She literally said, ‘I can’t go to jail, I’m too young!’ And proceeds to just press kisses onto my face.” Chris explains through his laughter. A hint of a smile is on your lips, shaking your head at your husband. Crouching down to your daughter’s height you told her, “Don’t listen to half the things your dad tells you, he’s messing with you, bean. You’re not going to go to jail if you don’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe.”

Chris had calmed down and sat beside you on the floor. You daughter glares at him causing him to snort. You roll your eyes before nudging your husband’s shoulder.

“C’mon, babe. It’s funny, our daughter’s a comedian.” Chris sees the smile hinting at your lips, trying to get you to crack.

“Shut up.” You whisper to him through gritted teeth. “Now apologize, you dork.”

Chris tries to recollect himself before looking at Audrey seriously, “Jellybean, I am so sorry for laughing at you and tricking you. It hurt your feelings and I’m sorry.”

Audrey sighs before pressing a light peck on her dad’s forehead, “I forgive you.” Chris wraps his giant arms around your daughter and pulls her into a hug.

Over her shoulder, the goofy look comes back onto his face as he mouths, “So gullible.”

You quietly chuckle as your daughter pulls away from the hug. She turns back to you and a smile is on her face.

“Mama, can I have my own mistletoe?” She asks you, looking at you with those puppy eyes.

“What’s the harm?” You thought to yourself. It was just a plant and she would probably use it on her dolls or stuffed animals. She’ll probably forget about it in a few days.

“Course you can, I’m sure daddy has some leftover decorations in the garage. He might have another mistletoe.” You shrugged as she happily jumped around.

Boy were you wrong.

The mistletoe had become a hit with your daughter. To her, it was her most prized possession. She held onto the mistletoe everywhere she went and used it to her advantage. When she wanted kisses, she would ask one of you to carry her and she would hold the mistletoe to the best of her abilities above your heads. She even taught Dodger that when the mistletoe was above him, it meant a kiss on the cheek for Audrey. Or a lick to the face in Dodger’s eyes. You and Chris enjoyed the fact that something so simple could bring your daughter so much joy. Compared to the dolls and stuffed animals she had, nothing compared to the mistletoe.

Audrey had pride in her mistletoe and showed it off to everyone who entered the house. She made it her own mission to spread more love in the house by making everyone kiss each other with the mistletoe.

This year, Christmas Eve was being held at your household. Chris had suggested it since your shared home was bigger than the other’s houses. Because there were many additional rooms, his siblings and their kids would be able to stay the night for Christmas Day.

The house was full of chatter and Christmas energy. All the kids were running around from room to room as the adults yelled after them to be careful. Dodger was hanging out under the dining room table, taking a break from the energetic kids. The dining room table was full of food, Lisa had arrived at the house earlier in the day to get a headstart on the cooking. Together, the two of you had filled the table with multiple dishes and an assortment of sweets.

You were sat on the couch talking with Carly and Shanna, catching up with each other’s lives. Scott was with Chris, along with his new boyfriend, who was celebrating Christmas with the family this year.

You and Carly were talking about your kids. You had just mentioned the little mistletoe incident that happened a week ago with Audrey and Chris. “Is that why she’s been carrying that mistletoe around?” Carly asked as she motioned to your little girl. She was running around with her cousins, her styled hair now messy, dress sleeves falling past her shoulders, and the mistletoe still enveloped in her hand.

“Honestly, I didn’t know she would grow such an attachment to it. I thought she was going to get over it in a few days and jump on some new craze.” You laughed sipping on your wine.

“I think it’s cute!” Shanna chimed from beside you. The boys had moved into the living room after standing in the dining room. Chris shot you a wink from across the room as he talked to Carly’s husband.

Scott and his boyfriend approached the three of you, a toothy grin on both their faces.

“What are you girls gossipin’ about?” Scott presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Oh yeah! This is Steve!” Scott motions to the man beside him who shyly waves at you. “Steve this is (y/n), my sister in law. (Y/n) this is Steve, my boyfriend!”

Instead of going in for a shake, you pulled Steve into a hug, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re glad to have you over for Christmas!” The Evans were really rubbing off on you.

“Likewise, thank you for having me!” Steve hugs you back. The two men sit on the rug as you all fall into a conversation. A half hour in and Audrey comes running into the living room. Her bright eyes spot her uncle Scott, as excitement bubbles in her stomach.

“Uncle Scott!” She runs up to him and wraps her short arms around his neck. Scott chuckles as he hugs his niece back.

“Uncle Scotty, look what I have!” Audrey holds the mistletoe up in pride. Scott’s mouth gaps as he sees the plant.

“Is that a mistletoe!” He moves the plant closer so that he’s getting a better look. What Scott doesn’t notice is that he’s moved the mistletoe directly above him and Steve.

“Yeah and look uncle Scott! You guys are under it!” She excitedly cheers. You see Scott and Steve both blush, you’re about to protest when Chris calls for his brother across the room.

“Scott, you know what that means!” Chris teases his younger brother from across the room.

With the encouragement from her father, Audrey says, “Now you have to kiss!”

Scott turns to Steve with a smile, “It’s a mistletoe, I don’t make the rules.” Steve agrees and the two share a peck on the lips. Everyone at the house cheers when they pull away. Satisfied, Audrey giggles at her work.

“Okay, little miss matchmaker. Back to your cousins, the adults are talking.” Scott teases Audrey as he nudges her back to the other kids.

“That’s my girl! Doin’ god’s work!” Chris cheers in pride as his daughter skips out the room. The holidays were about family and seeing his brother so happy made him happy. Without the help of your little girl, Scott probably would’ve never made the first move on Steve. It was a holiday miracle, thanks to that mistletoe.

[dangermousie]

Hello !

I was wondering whether you could rate and tell us of your top 5 favourite webnovels/cnovels of all time ?! (Sorry if this has already been answered lol😅)

Thank you, stay safe and have a nice day🖤

Awww, thank you and that is such a lovely ask!!!

From n1 to n5, here they are (they happen to be all danmei.)

1. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) - my n1 forever and ever.

Taxian Jun, the horrific cultivation emperor of the world who razed cities and destroyed sects, is surrounded on his mountain. The righteous sects are terrified to confront him but tired of living, Taxian Jun consumes poison and dies by suicide at the age of 32. And opens his eyes as 16 year old Mo Ran, Mo Ran long before he became Taxian Jun, Mo Ran who is excited at a chance to save the one person he loved and lost. Oh, and to deal with his loathed shizun, the unapproachable and strict Chu Wanning, his past life’s biggest enemy.

I have no idea if it’s objectively the best on this list but it hits every trope I love, its bleak worldview (the world will change only incrementally but that’s enough, average person will not appreciate the sacrifice but it’s still worthwhile, and love is worth everything) mirrors mine, and the sheer complexity of the plot and cascade of plot twists each of which is insane and yet completely logical, is amazing (this is a rare novel where it’s even more fun to reread than read for the first time because you keep seeing all the hints and trail crumbs laid out that you did not see the first time.)

And the characters!!! I mean, this novel has multiple universes/timelines, a side trip to the Underworld AND the demon realm, a plot more twisted than a store’s worth of pretzels and yet the thing that hits me the most are the characters. Mo Ran is my favorite web novel character of all time and I love Chu Wanning so. All the secondary characters are wonderfully written (and some of them made me bawl) and they are all complex. My opinion of all of them changed many times over; the novel doesn’t make it easy to love some of them but then you do and it’s so worthwhile! That slow change is one of the delights of the novel - I started out disliking the unpleasant, superior Chu Wanning and cruel, callow Mo Ran and then I loved them so so hard and cried for them so so hard and was in awe of their heroism and sacrifice and selflessness and capacity to love.

Oh, and the fact that this novel does something almost impossible - it has its protagonist start out as so clearly irredeemable and then slowly and painfully and thoroughly redeems him (without ever letting the reader forget what it is he needs redemption for.)

Also, for a novel that made me cry so hard I felt ill, this book is just so damn funny with the most sarcastic sense of humor imaginable (the serious angst doesn’t even kick in until 90+ chapters!)

Anyway I should stop or I will write a dissertation. But this is the one web novel that I would put in my top 5 not just web novels but any novels in any shape or form. The plentiful trigger warnings are there for a reason so stay away if they are an issue, but if not, if anyone hasn’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life?!

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - another novel by the author of 2ha. Clearly she just pushes all my buttons every time. This one is much shorter and has a plot that is twisty but less twisty than 2ha. Still, all that means is that intensity and the pain are more concentrated.

Aristocratic Mo Xi and former slave Gu Mang were both legendary generals of the empire and lovers. But Gu Mang betrayed the country and switched to the enemy. Now he is back as a peace offering by that country and Mo Xi has to deal with the fact that his feelings are as strong as ever.

This novel!!! So much pain and intensity!!! So many amazing plot twists and supporting characters. The same bleak world view, the same unjust society, the same protagonists doing right things despite the cost. Mo Xi’s intensity and inability to let go (he’s imprinted on Gu Mang and that’s it) is romantic, bone-shakingly intense, and tragic all at once. And oh Gu Mang! So many times I just wanted to reach into the book physically to protect him. The novel deals with unjust societies, memory versus personality, what it’s like to be good in a bad universe etc. And it both made me sob and giggle, repeatedly, and sold me on literally death-defying (but not honor-defying!) love.

Oh, and special shout out to the fact that like 2ha, you may start out hating some characters and end up a rabid fangirl (cough Murong Lian!)

3. Qiang Jin Jiu - a dense political tome that takes a while to get going but then it’s a runaway train.

In a fictional dynasty, Shen Zechuan, the only remaining son of a disgraced aristocratic family and Xiao Chiye, the younger son of a family of generals guarding the border join forces (and then something else) to get power and pull down the dysfunctional system.

This is so elegant and smart (a rare web novel I’d recommend to anyone who just loves solid period fiction) and you probably need a notebook to keep track of the politics and military strategy. These characters are very very smart not just because the author says so.

As to the characters, there is a large cast and I love many of them, but for me the novel is made by Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye. SZC is gorgeous and delicate and icy and can kill you before you have time to blink. Saddled with the sins of the family he had no pleasant interaction with, he claws his way out of hell (seeing the sinkhole he was trapped in, literally as well) to take down those who wronged him but also to amass power so all the tragedy and corruption won’t happen again and the whole rotten system comes crashing down. XCY is a military genius who is trapped as a hostage in the capital because the court doesn’t trust his family. He longs to return to the plains of home and to take his rightful place. The two men start out as bitter enemies, then reluctant and sniping allies, then as friends and eventually as one of the most gorgeous, tender, swoony OTPs.

Anyway this is one is a bona fide masterpiece, equal parts smart and emotionally intense.

4. Wu Chang Jie - are you an emotional vampire? I am and this novel is a banquet.

In a highly fantastical setting, we meet our protagonists - the sunny Xie Bian and the intense and surly Fan Wushe. Xie Bian is a human who assists his master in conveying souls to the underworld and making sure no mishaps happen. Bian is concentrated sunshine in human form and to meet him is to love him. When the novel opens, his drunk master brings back another human to be his shidi and assist with duties - said human is uncommunicative, intense and surly Wushe. Bian is excited to have a shidi but little does he know that a story dealing with the horrors of past lifetime is about to start.

Anyway, why WCJ? So many reasons. It has such a dark bleak worldview - this world is a horrifying system where powerful cannibalize each other’s cores for an impossible chance to ascend, where gods have sealed off their realm and all that’s left is neverending human misery and hell (the only way you’d see a deity is if they’d been sent down to suffer over and over and over), where even reincarnation doesn’t fix things and bad acts are often unpunished. And the novel then asks - is it worth being a good person in such a world? More, is it worth being a good person in such a world when nothing good has ever happened to you and you have been repeatedly betrayed due to your goodness? And the answer, on Bian’s part, is an uncompromising yes.

Ah yes, the other reason to love this novel - the protagonists and their fucked up fucked up relationship. Bian (who was Prince Ziheng in the past life) is so genuinely good. But he is that rare thing - good but not saintly, noble but not cloying. So much of the novel is his getting taken apart over and over and barely able to put himself back together every time but his soul is still as amazing as ever.

And then there is Wushe (who was Prince Zixiao in past life, Ziheng’s not-bio-related brother.) Wushe is not a good person. He is a monster. And he loves Bian/Ziheng more than his life and his soul and the entire world but he’s also the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever could and did it over and over. His love survived a literal century of torture in the worst kind of hell and refused the usual memory loss of new life. But it also humiliated and broke Ziheng down to his constituent parts.

One of the things that is so fascinating to me about this novel is the question of what can be forgiven/what should be forgiven/what kind of expiation is enough/can you ever love someone who you loved so much and then he hurt you so badly and is now repentant? And it never sweeps trauma under the rug or hand waves it away but deals with it head on.

If you want healthy relationships, you should stay far away from this novel but if intense insane ones with a feral barely human one capable of destroying the world leashed by love and guilt to the sane deeply good one is your bag, come right in.

There is also the world building and the fact that yes, the big fall out between Ziheng x Zixiao is based on not knowing all the facts but it’s not “why can’t you talk?! This is dumb!” But is totally in keeping with both events and their characters. It’s reasonable for Ziheng to do what he does and for Zixiao to misunderstand and decide Ziheng is now his biggest enemy (but still one he’s fixated on) and for Ziheng to never be able to clarify.

Anyway, once again this is trigger warning central so please heed those, but if they are no issue, this one is wonderful.

5. OK, this is hard and switches between Sha Po Lang, Heaven Official’s Blessing and The Golden Stage depending on my mood. So what the hell, I am gonna write about all of them.

Sha Po Lang - so smart and so much clever world building. There is enough politicking to satisfy a Qiang Jin Jiu fan, it’s steampunk, and our two protagonists - Gu Yun, the empire’s most powerful general, who’s loyal to the empire despite being badly wronged by it, and Chang Geng, a cursed prince with barbarian blood and horrifying childhood - are wonderful separately and together. This is a huge slow burn but it’s totally worth it! They fall in love with each other’s hearts and brains and ability as much as anything. (Yes, this is the one with the yifu thing. Gu Yun is made Chang Geng’s foster father when he rescues him and brings him back to the capital as a way to keep CG safe in imperial strife. They are 12 and 19 at the time so clearly it’s never a parental relationship.)

Heaven Official’s Blessing (TCGF) - I love it’s sprawling narrative and cast, I love its inventive setting and picaresque story. It’s hilarious and can make me cry. But the novel’s place on this list is due to Xie Lian who is part Kenshin part drama WWX part pure goodness wrapped in heartbreak and trauma wrapped in sunshine.

The Golden Stage - two smart and principled (yes, they both have principles different though they may be) men navigate their arranged marriage, their past friendship and their past break up, become a super couple (one of the healthiest danmei couples I’ve ever read and proves healthy doesn’t have to be boring), save the country and bring down the emperor or two and just generally this is my rainy day book.

I guess I didn’t write as much for the three n5 candidates as I did for 1-4 but my brain is beginning to curdle so...

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

----------------

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

-------------

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[wildlyglittering]

The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike. 

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

 In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”  

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

@live-the-fangirl-life

@champanheandluxxury

@dontgetsalmonella

@purpleglitterypinecone

[kiri-ah]

Something To Sink My Teeth Into || she/her pronouns version

Themes: Supernatural AU, Vampire AU, strangers to lovers, angst and fluff (so much fluff), something similar to those symbiotes from Venom and Hanahaki disease combined, interplanar travel, Jaemin and the reader are oblivious and Chenle gets mad about it, long conversations about vampires, vampires can't cry

Pairing: Vampire!Jaemin x Female Human!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood (minor), mentions of eating (human food and vampire food), character death, Chenle is kind of a butthole, in depth conversations about humans and vampires which include biting and blood drinking, Yuta's house gets set on fire

Word Count: 26.4k

Taglist: @bluejaem, @heyyyun, @generantionct (untaggable), @stayctday, @kunrengui, @allegxdly, @leetaeyonglover, @koishua, @choppedupcactus, @hyuckworld, @alexameliamg, @notbeforelong, @jaemotel

Summary: A trip to Poland goes terribly wrong - or maybe terribly right - when you're bitten and kidnapped by a vampire. Between passing out, almost dying multiple times, and falling in love, you have a lot on your plate. Oh, and the magic. Right. Teaser here.

A/N: This is so much longer than it was meant to be... *sigh*

This has only been edited by myself and a friend of mine, please excuse any errors. I worked hard to make the best experience possible. For that reason, please note that this is the !she/her pronouns version! He/him pronouns may be found here, they/them pronouns here. Please enjoy!

You were on holiday in Krakow, Poland. For your twenty first birthday, your parents had gifted you a weeklong trip over Spring Break, and you had been having the time of your life. You had found Krakow rich in historical influence - it had been the capital of Poland until 1596 and still had remnants of the past, like a Renaissance-era trading post and sections of the medieval walls that surrounded the city. Plus, the section of the city that you were staying in was very close to the city center, where you discovered aforementioned trading post, called the Cloth Hall, and an old cathedral named St. Mary’s Basilica.

The first night of your stay, Sunday night, you had struggled to sleep, because of the time difference and the excitement of arriving. You stayed in Monday morning, trying to at least rest a bit, and then ventured out to the nearest coffee shop when that didn’t alleviate your sleepiness. The barista had whipped up your favorite pick-me-up morning drink, and you went to sit outside in the fresh air, surveying the plaza over the rim of your cup. It was just the right time of year, you thought, because it was nice and warm without being too hot, just how you liked it. The sun had started to rise about the buildings around you, illuminating certain structures and giving them an unearthly glow.

When you finished your drink, you put the cup into the collection bin and walked back out onto the main square, just enjoying the sun on your face (over the sunglasses you had bought in the airport after forgetting to pack yours) and letting the warmth sink through your limbs after the tired night. One of the unfortunate things about the time of year you had travelled was the tourists. There were families and older couples and people your age taking trips with their friends, and most everyone stayed right where you were staying as well: right in the heart of the city. To avoid as many crowds as possible, you had booked a tour of St. Mary’s Basilica for Thursday morning, and reserved entry to the underground museum for this afternoon.

Tomorrow you planned to go and see Grodzka Street, where you were going to try and find a souvenir. In the same neighborhood was an ancient church called St. Andrew’s Church, which dated back to around 1079. On Wednesday, you were going to brave the crowds of people in the Cloth Hall for the same purpose, and also because it was a historical landmark that you just needed to explore. Wednesday afternoon was blocked out to be a rest period, as was Thursday morning. Then on Friday you were planning to go and see the Wawel Castle and Cathedral. From there you would explore the various attractions on the property, and then return to the plaza later to eat. That afternoon, you planned to go to the Jewish cemetery. Saturday was blocked out for a trip to Auschwitz-Birkenau, which was a Nazi concentration camp and a Holocaust memorial out of the main town. When you returned to the hotel late that afternoon you would pack and get ready for your flight Sunday morning. It was going to be a very full and very fun week. Or at least you hoped it would be fun.

You explored the main square a little bit that first day and unpacked your things, making sure you had everything you needed for your trip and you didn’t need to walk to one of the convenience stores nearby.

The days passed quickly, and you finished each one completely satisfied. Everything and everyone here was so wonderful and you started to wonder how you had never heard of this place before this trip. It was absolutely one of the best places your parents could have picked.

On Friday morning you got up bright and early (well, actually, it was dark and early) to go to the Wawel Castle. You had heard from a travelling site that tickets sold out fast and it was important to get there early in the day, and you tried to heed that warning. At 7am when you arrived it was already busy, but thankfully not so much that the lines were too long. You wandered through the small exhibits and around the grounds. It was a bit more chilly today and you wrapped a scarf around your neck as you shivered, trying to find a less windy spot to hide out for a second. You found a little spot where you could take a moment and recharge your inner heater and were doing just that, burrowing into your small scarf mountain, when you realized that a person stood next to you. You looked up through your lashes at them and caught your breath - holy cow he had good genes. He had a sharp, sloping jawline that stopped at a chin less pointy than you had expected. His lips were plush and round, although he needed some chapstick. His hair was pushed around by the wind but despite that he looked, well, amazing. Sections were bleached, giving his hair an almost halo-esque look. His nostrils contracted as he inhaled and then his eyes cut down to yours, dark and deep and was that eyeliner?

He smiled then, a smirk that seemed far too self-assured for the situation, and leaned over towards your exposed ear. “I can feel you staring, sweetheart,” he murmured. The top of your ear, which had been feeling rather numb, flamed hot at his words. It almost hurt, the sudden jump into heat. You turned towards him fully, only eyes exposed by the scarf mountain. Your hair whipped around as the wind shifted again, but he didn’t seem cold, although he was in only a pair of black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket. The jacket caught your attention for a second - it was studded with thousands of little rhinestones, like a varsity jacket gone shiny. Then he shifted closer into your space and you were forced to look back at his eyes, glittering in a way that seemed almost predatory. You sucked in a breath through your mouth and started to back away.

“S-sorry,” your breath came out in a whisper. Nobody seemed to notice your interaction. “I didn’t see you there, I’ll just leave.” You turned to go before his hand, surprisingly strong, clamped around your arm and pulled you back into his chest.

His voice came out in a growl as he blocked your scream with his other hand. “I am far, far too hungry for you to leave right now, precious.” The strength in your legs seemed to dissipate at his tone, you knew you needed to defend yourself, but ‘hungry’? What was that about? And precious? The hand wrapped around your arm let go and started unwrapping your scarf, exposing your face to both him and the frigid wind. He started to lean down, and you pressed your lips together tightly. At the very least, he wasn’t getting in your mouth. You may have lost the strength in your legs, but not in your will. Then he bypassed your mouth and leaned into your neck, inhaling and causing cold air to course along the column of your throat. He chuckled when you shivered, then bit into your neck.

The pain was overwhelming, you could feel each individual blood cell crying out, every organ protesting, your head started to pound with it. It hurt far more than even a dog bite should. It hurt like a shot at the doctor going on and on, echoing through your body and you were powerless to stop it. The pain flared in your neck and your brain seemed to slow down as the blood flowed away from it and into his mouth. You crumbled into him, and without detaching from your throat, he scooped you up into his arms, holding you there to be his personal bloodbag. You had long since stopped trying to scream, it was too difficult, too much effort.

Vampires, your thoughts whispered, before the pain covered you and you passed out, collapsing completely.

☽༓☾

You woke up in a... cozy cottage? There wasn’t any sign of your attacker and, in fact, no sign of anything vampire esque either. You looked around the single room at the soft fabric couch (covered in boho style throw pillows), the kitchenette (complete with pre packed food), and the window, through which you could see a combination flower and vegetable garden. There were two doors off of the room you were in, one that led towards the lush green outside, and one that must have concealed the bathroom.

The moment you realized this, you also realized that you really needed to use said bathroom, and struggled to plant your bare feet on the floor. Your legs didn't want to hold your weight, and you crumbled to the rug with a whine. Two seconds later, the door to the outside opened with a swish of fresh air and there, outlined by the sun, stood the most gorgeous person you had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. When he saw you on the floor, he groaned and ran a hand through his pink hair. "Shit, I'm so sorry, let me help you!" He ran over and you allowed him to half carry you into the bathroom. It wasn’t like you had any strength to protest, and he seemed nice. He smelled like sunshine on fresh earth.

Once you had finished using the toilet you tried to stand up again, now that you at least had some semblance of strength in your legs. After a few tries you were able to support yourself against the bathroom counter, with more than half of your weight against the frigid tiles. Your legs shook as you started standing more straight up, and you made a high pitched keening sound that you didn’t even know you could make; the man’s worried voice came through the door. His voice was higher and slightly panicked.

“Are you okay? Do you need help? Are you hurting too much?”

Your voice, which you hadn’t managed to make work properly, came out lower than usual and scratchy. A portion of your throat ached as you tried to make the sounds audibly. “Yeah,” you rasped out. “I can’t stand up properly.”

“Do you need me to come and help?” There was something about his voice that just made you want to trust him. It was soft but strong and even though he had toned down the panic, it still had soft tremors of worry running through it.

You thought about it for a second and considered yourself in the mirror. You looked, quite frankly, horrible. Your hair was a mess (more than usual), your eye bags were sagging unnaturally, and your eyes themselves were dull. You did look like you needed help. You sighed. “Sure.”

A moment later he opened the door slowly and stepped into the space with you, putting one arm around your waist to help support you. You relaxed some of your weight onto him and closed your eyes briefly. It would have been a wholly relaxing moment if not for your stomach. It grumbled up at you and you thought for a moment that it sounded like an angry octopus trapped inside of you. Then you blinked to clear the thought away as the man laughed. It was deeper than you expected from a man with pink cotton-candy colored hair, a low chuckle that rumbled through his body and, in turn, yours. You shook against him slightly with the movement and his other arm came to help you lean more against his body. He was stronger than you expected and you could feel the muscles in his arms shift as he reoriented himself.

“Let’s get you some food,” he said, smiling. “Unfortunately I’m not sure I’ll have much you’ll like.” You just nodded. Your throat was still throbbing uncomfortably where you were bitten and you weren’t sure you had the energy to even debate his statement. You were sure you would eat whatever he gave you. He led you into the main room again and helped you settle onto the couch. He walked over to the kitchenette and picked up a can of soup, then walked back to you to verify it was a kind that you liked. Once you had approved it, he went back and put it in a pot on the electric stove, starting to heat it up. As he stood over it, you had some time to think as you sat on the couch. The first thing you realized was that you still didn’t know what his name was, which was an issue. You couldn’t thank him properly without knowing his name. The second thing you realized was that you didn’t know where you were, exactly. The third was that you had probably missed your flight back home and your parents were going to murder you for it when you eventually got back. You shifted so you were more comfortable before trying to speak again. You started with the easiest vocal warmup you remembered and the man looked over at you with eyebrows raised.

“You good?” he asked. You nodded in response, hoping that your throat would relax and stop throbbing.

“Yeah, I think so,” you told him. “The side of my neck really aches where that man bit me.” His eyebrows furrowed at this and you thought maybe you just imagined it, that nobody actually bit you, but the pain was real enough in that moment and it was certainly real enough when he bit you. “Also,” you continued, “I still don’t know what your name is.” He seemed to think about this for a moment.

“I’m Jaemin Na,” he said eventually. “This is my house. And I think maybe we need to take a closer look at your bite, I didn’t realize it still hurt. Usually the throbbing goes away after a day or two.” You found yourself nodding along before his words sank in.

“Okay, uh, nice to actually know who you are now. I’m Y/N,” you said. There were suddenly many more questions floating around your brain. Usually he had said, which meant he had dealt with vampire bitten people before. How? Was he one? Why weren’t you a vampire? And how long had you been asleep for? They circled around your head like a dog chasing its tail until you realized that Jaemin was in front of you. It seemed like he was waiting for you to say something.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “What was that?”

“I said we have all the time in the world for you to ask me the questions I know you must have. Don’t psych yourself out. You’re safe.” Despite the fact that you knew next to nothing about him you found yourself once again trusting him without reason. He just seemed like a genuinely nice person, someone you could believe to tell you nothing but the truth.

“Okay,” you agreed, and it came out like a sigh. Your throat gave a particularly unpleasant throb and you unconsciously brought a hand up to rub at it. Jaemin’s hand fastened around your wrist and pulled it away, looking closely at your skin. He sighed.

“You’ve probably figured out by now that the man who bit you was a vampire. If you haven’t, have your moment of denial now.” You just looked back at him, surprised.

“Denial?”

“Yeah. Usually when humans find out about vampires for the first time they aren’t very accepting of it. I’ve had to replace my windows a few times from thrown objects.” You almost laughed before realizing that he was serious.

“Okay, well, I already got that, so go ahead,” you prompted.

“Great!” His eyes got just a little bit less heavy with your statement and he continued, “contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t actually turn humans all that often. If we had that little self control the whole population would be dead or turned already.” You noted his use of the word we and shuddered a little. He could attack you too? He seemed so gentle.

For the first time you noticed your soup in a bowl on the coffee table. Jaemin reclaimed your attention by speaking again. “We’re also pretty good at choosing who to bite, and when. We’re not heartless. We try to choose people with good metabolisms so that we can return them to Earth quickly.” At this you inhaled so sharply that he paused, looking over at you.

“We aren’t on Earth anymore?” you asked shakily. He shook his head with a quirk of his lips. That distracted you enough to calm down for a moment. He really was a gorgeous person. Was the word person still applicable to vampires? You didn’t know. He sucked you out of your thoughts again with a hand waved in front of you.

“No, we’re not on Earth. Where we are… it’s like a parallel plane of existence. Vampires can live here, do live here, in bigger bunches than we can on Earth. We call it ‘Vahmpyr.’ I always thought that was a really unoriginal name, but I was turned after it was discovered so I didn’t have much of a say. It would be like you trying to rename Earth.” He picked up your bowl of soup and stirred it around, handing it to you, before continuing.

“This is my vacation house of sorts, where I nurse humans who have been bitten back to their healthy selves. Generally we vampires try to keep one certified nurse or doctor in each coven just in case, more if the coven is large. It’s a handy skill to have. Especially if you happen to have parts of your coven who are as chaotic as ours.” He looked over at you and smiled wryly before adding, “I didn’t poison the soup, you know.” You looked down at your lap where the warm bowl sat and laughed under your breath before picking up the spoon and taking a bite. It was delicious. You flashed him a thumbs up with your mouth full and he smiled brightly again.

Once you had swallowed you asked, “how can you bite humans and not turn them? I didn’t know it was possible to not turn us.” He nodded like he was expecting this question.

“It’s kind of a strange feeling,” he told you. “Biting, I mean. It’s not like the human feeling of biting into a piece of meat. It’s just… it’s amazing. It’s like cold fruit on a summer’s day, hot chocolate while snow falls. It’s at once a feeling of absolute power and absolute devotion because tasting a human’s blood puts them above everything else, at least for a few moments. At the same time you’re aware that their body is falling apart and right into you. It’s intoxicating. Every once in a while you’ll bite someone that just tastes extraordinarily good, or meet someone with a unique and, pardon my language, delicious, smell. Then your body sort of automatically realizes you want them to stick around and releases the venom.”

“So,” you said, interested by his version of vampires, “if you bit me right now, I’d be fine?”

His eyes sparked with something new. Anger, you thought, or something close to it. “I just spent four days nursing you back to health and you want me to bite you just to see what happens?” he asked incredulously.

“No! I was just confirming. I’m sorry,” you murmured, and shoved another bite of the soup into your mouth for good measure. He sighed.

“I’m sorry too, it feels so easy to talk to you. I forget that you’re new to this.” You choked on your soup while he and he hurriedly patted your back as you regained your breath. “Are you alright?”

“Did you say you spent four days nursing me back to health?” you asked, head spinning. Four days. Four days. Four days. “I’ve been missing from Earth for four days?”

He deliberated for a moment. “Yes, and no. You’ve been off of Earth for four days, yes, but you aren’t missing.” You raised an eyebrow in response and he hurried to explain more. “I mean, obviously you’re here, and yes, you’ve been here for four days, asleep, recovering from Jisung’s bite. On the other hand, there’s still a you on Earth right now. That’s the interesting thing about Vahmpyr. We can bring humans back, with some effort, and while they’re here, a version of them is still on Earth. It’s still you. And if you go back, from what I understand, you get your other half’s memories back, like you never left. It’s quite the phenomenon.” He seemed completely serious and you were inclined to believe him, but this was insanity. Another you, a perfect copy, walking around on Earth while you hung out with the vampires in their parallel plane? You pinched yourself. It hurt, and you winced. Jaemin looked at you with this horrible understanding glimmer in his eyes like he was saying I know how this is. It’s weird and unimaginable but it’s here. Please don’t break any of my things.

Eventually you just kept sitting and looked back at him. “This really is good soup,” you said. He looked at you in surprise before bursting out laughing, face lighting up like the horizon at sunrise.

“You’re not going to attack me?” he asked between chuckles. “That’s the normal response. And thank you, that’s my favorite kind of soup too.” You shook your head, smiling back at him.

“I decided that there’s no changing it even if this is just a fever dream induced by an infected human,” you explained to him. “And wait, can you actually eat still? Like stuff besides blood?” In response he ran over to the small kitchen and grabbed a spoon of his own, dipping it into the bowl and moving it to his mouth. When he was done he smiled at you.

“I can still eat human foods. Nothing is as good as blood, of course, but I can still enjoy it. It’s just dulled by the transformation. And I’m glad that’s the stance you take on being transported to a different plane, I’ve known humans to react rather badly.” He took a moment to think. “For example, there was a woman who was convinced we had sexually assaulted her, which is a fair thought, but she wouldn’t let me explain anything to her. She ran outside as soon as her legs were strong enough and ran right into Lucas. He’s a really big guy, wide and tall and strong and such. She was so terrified she ran into my bathroom and I had to give her the spiel from through the door. Not the finest of interactions.” In spite of yourself you laughed. You could imagine the woman’s fear, especially if this Lucas was as infuriatingly gorgeous as Jaemin and the man who had bit you. You probably should’ve felt the same way, but something about Jaemin was just relaxing, and you felt safe with him.

“I get it,” you told Jaemin. “All of you guys; the guy who bit me - what did you say his name was? Jisung? Yeah, him. Jisung and you and probably Lucas, you all look like models which I guess goes with the vampire narrative, but it’s a little shocking since I’ve never seen someone so good looking. It’s nearly scary.” You looked back up to see Jaemin looking surprised.

“You think we’re good looking? Even after you got bitten by one, abducted by another, and have only heard of the third in a story about someone running away screaming?”

You shrugged. “All of that doesn’t change the facts. You’re still some pretty perfect looking human beings.” A moment later you realized what you had said and wrinkled your nose. “Sorry, uh, creatures. Is that offensive?” Jaemin laughed again and wow you could get addicted to that laugh. It was so carefree. You supposed that came with immortality.

“Technically ‘creatures’ is more accurate but isn’t very nice-sounding, even if we are unnatural monsters.” He said this as though he had come to terms with it. Even if we are unnatural monsters.

“I don’t think you’re unnatural,” you told him. “I mean, if there is a higher power out there then He or It or They created a whole plane for you and if not then nature did. I don’t think Vahmpyr would exist if you were unnatural.” He looked at you without speaking as you took another spoonful of soup.

“That’s… that’s a new way of looking at it.” He looked conflicted, like he was trying to reconcile your view of him with his view of himself. “I don’t think our plane was meant to exist though, by higher power or nature. Humans are beautiful because they age and there is room for change within your society. It’s hard to change an entire plane full of the unchanging.”

“Maybe so,” you argued, “but you’re obviously gorgeous on the outside, and on the inside it seems like you have a good system too. If I was a vampire I don’t think I’d take care of the humans I had bitten. It wouldn’t have occurred to me. They would all die. I would be dead, come to think of it.”

“That’s true,” he conceded. “You really do have a unique view of things.”

“Thank you?” It came out sounding more like a question than you intended. You finished your bowl of soup, licking the excess off of your upper lip. Setting the bowl back down seemed to break whatever spell had kept you in eager conversation with him. You supposed all of your questions had been answered, for now. Jaemin helped you get set up with Netflix on his TV and went back outside to his garden. He explained that you could call for him through the open window if you needed him, he would be right nearby. You nodded, already distracted by the opening scene of your show.

After a while you realized that there were low voices coming from outside. It sounded like Jaemin was talking to someone. You turned the volume down on the TV a little bit to listen. Maybe you could meet the infamous Lucas or someone else in Jaemin’s vampire family.

“... have to bring her to me?” Jaemin was saying. “You tasted her, you know her scent. This is painful. Her scent is all over my things, my bed.” He let out a small groan and the other man with him chuckled breathily.

“Hyung, I didn’t mean for her to smell so good I swear, it was a spur of the moment decision. I was hunting in her area and her scent was so enticing. Plus, I was hungry!” You shuddered at the mention of hunting. This one, who must be Jisung, was far less civilized than Jaemin, it seemed.

Jaemin made an angry noise and his words hissed out when he spoke. “You think it was enticing out in the open air of Poland? On a windy day? I’ve been smelling her acutely on my things, in my house, for four days and it hurts. My venom has been going non-stop for the entire period and it’s not like I can just change her, she’s got a life ahead of her!” Part of your heart went out to Jaemin - he was trying so hard to take care of you and even caused himself pain for it. That explained why he had reacted so negatively when you asked what would happen if he bit you. You wouldn’t have been fine. You would’ve become like him. The thought didn’t cause the anger or disgust you thought it should have. It sounded nice, almost, to be like him. To stay in his safety for eternity.

“Jaemin,” said a new voice. It was strong and rough like tree bark lined his throat. “You can return her back to the real world in just a few more days and you’ll be free of her. It’s not like she would want to stay here anyway, her friends and family are back on Earth. We can keep Jisung home and have him feed on Chenle until he learns his lesson.”

Someone, presumably Jisung, made a wounded noise. “I can control myself, I promise. Don’t make me feed on Chenle, Hyung, he doesn’t taste anywhere near as good.” Definitely Jisung.

“Jisung,” said Jaemin’s voice. “Don’t argue, you brought this on yourself. And me,” he adds as an afterthought.

Jisung’s sullen voice responded, “fine, Hyung, but Chenle isn’t going to be happy either, you know.” You thought maybe Jaemin must have nodded or something because nobody said anything for a while. You turned off the TV, suddenly bored with the program and head full of new questions. The top one on the list was why. Why did you affect them this way? Why did Jaemin treat you so nicely when you were hurting him? Why did Jisung sound like a puppy who had been reprimanded? Why did Jaemin and the other man have the power to ground him, essentially? Then there were the who questions. Who was the man with the voice like tree bark? Who was Chenle, and why wouldn’t he be happy? Lastly were the when questions. When would you be going home? When would you see them again? Would you see them ever again? When would Jisung be allowed to hunt again?

You were so deep in your head that you didn’t notice the door opening and Jaemin coming in, two men behind him, until he stopped and waved a hand in front of you.

“Y/N, you okay? I brought you some people to meet.” He stepped back and you forced your eyes to refocus on what was in front of you. When you looked up at him, he presented the two other guys like he was a car salesman and these were his favorite models. “This is Jisung, you’ve met him already although I don’t know if you remember him.” You nodded, looking over him. He had on a grey crewneck sweatshirt over a pair of black sweatpants today and looked far less terrifyingly beautiful flanked by his hyungs.

“I remember him,” you told them. “You’re the one who bit me.” You didn’t think it was possible for him to look more sheepish than he already did but he managed to, and shrank back so that he was standing half-behind the other man. The other guy had bleached hair falling messily over his forehead, and even though he was shorter than Jisung, he seemed to command your attention more. He had on a green sleeveless shirt that showed off arms rippling with muscles. You gulped, looking up at him, but then he smiled at you. His whole demeanor changed. He felt less like he was about to kill you and more like he might accidentally strangle you to death in a hug. His eyes scrunched up into little crescents and you found yourself smiling back.

“I’m Jeno,” he said, walking forward to shake your hand. “Sorry I didn’t come to visit earlier.” His voice still sounded like bark lined his throat, but less so now that he wasn’t bothering to limit his volume.

“That’s fine,” you replied. “I just woke up earlier today.” You glanced towards Jaemin; he looked like a proud mom watching you interact with his friend. “Jaemin fed me, and since then I’ve just been sitting here watching TV. I can’t find my phone, and even if I did I’m not sure I could walk over to it. My legs are out of practice.”

Jeno smiled again. “That’s pretty common for Jisung’s victims. We found out he has these little back teeth that make it more painful for the people he bites so they usually need more bed rest to recover from the strain on their bodies and the blood loss.”

You nodded, as though that made sense. They still let Jisung hunt with his unpredictability and extra teeth? That seemed a little irresponsible of them, but you supposed that Jeno and Jaemin weren’t that much older than him in the first place. You tried to bring up your next subject subtly.

“Speaking of recovery, when do you think I’ll be going back to Earth?” The change in the room was immediate. Jeno’s smile faltered enough for you to see his eyes, Jaemin’s shoulders slumped, and Jisung’s foot started tapping against the rug. “It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you interjected, “I'm just worried that my, uh, double self will get up to trouble and stuff. What if someone notices it’s not me?”

Jisung looked at Jaemin. “You either did a really bad job of explaining this or she wasn't listening, Hyung.” Jaemin glared at him in response and chose not to dignify the statement with an answer. Jisung huffed at him and turned to you. “It’s you, y’know, back on Earth. Like… when a starfish gets cut in half, both halves grow into full starfish again. Something similar happened to you. Same organism, same you, just two different places. Is that a weird comparison?”

“What he means,” interjected Jeno before you could reply, “is that the you down there has all of your experiences and memories and the same brain. It’s the exact same person as you, just two versions of you. When you go back you won't even have a bite scar.” At this you lifted your hand to rub at the mark on your throat. You saw Jisung’s eyes follow the action and he licked his lips. You put your arm back down into your lap and swallowed, the sound echoing in your head.

Finally Jaemin spoke. “And to answer your question, as soon as we get you strong enough to walk on your own you can go back. I mean technically there’s a body waiting for you down there, but we don’t know what would happen if we sent you back faulty, so we like to be careful.” You laughed at his use of the word faulty and nodded.

“Okay. Do you guys have a portal or something that’ll take me back?” At this all three men burst into laughter and a high pitched squeal joined the mix, coming from the doorway. Yet another man was standing there, thin orange-dyed hair flopping as he doubled over laughing.

“A- a portal,” he wheezed out between laughs. “No, we don’t have a portal.” You threw him a disgruntled look.

“I was just asking…”

Jaemin looked equally off-put and said, “Y/N, this is Chenle, Jisung’s best friend and our second child. Sorry about his lack of a filter.” His lips pursed unhappily and you rushed to reassure him.

“No, that’s okay, I don’t know if that was stupid question. No feelings hurt, he’s fine.” Jaemin looked unconvinced, so you sat up more towards Chenle and reached out a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh is that your name?” he replied breezily, shaking your hand quickly. “They were right, you do smell good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jaemin shift protectively.

“Chenle.” His voice came out a growl, raising hairs on the back of your neck. “Don’t you dare.” It was interesting, you thought, how this dynamic worked. From what you had heard with Jisung, Jaemin had always contained himself, like he was reprimanding his favorite child. With Chenle he seemed almost dangerous, like it was possible for him to hurt a fly, and things much bigger than a fly. You wondered if he was this way with all of his patients, or if Chenle just bothered him more with you than usual.

“I’m not going to, mom, chill out a moment.” Chenle, you decided, must be the bad egg of their group. Every family had at least one, and here was theirs. He seemed the most likely to hurt something for the fun of it, and it almost seemed like he should have been the one to attack you, not Jisung. You wondered, in the distant back of your head, whether he had extra teeth for biting like Jisung did. Maybe it was better not to find out.

“Please don’t call me mom,” Jaemin sighed in response, all of the fight leaving him a rush. His muscles were still tense, though, and he ran a hand through his cotton candy colored hair.

“Chenle,” said Jeno, “I think you and Jisung should go talk. He has news for you.” Jisung shuddered slightly, his nod small and tense. You remembered his reaction earlier, when he had been informed that he needed to feed from Chenle for the time being. Chenle looked between Jisung and Jeno and an expression appeared on his face that didn’t seem natural on him - uncomfortable confusion. What you had seen in this past tension filled minute was that he was self assured and rambunctious. Now you wondered if he respected Jeno, regardless of that. You supposed you didn’t really have time to find out, you would be going home as soon as you could walk on your own. Speaking of which-

“I need to use the bathroom again,” you said as Jisung walked out of the house with Chenle right behind him.

“You should try getting up on your own,” Jeno suggested. “The more you sit around the harder it’ll be for your legs to get strong again.” You nodded and used the arm of the couch to haul yourself to your feet. Your knees started shaking again and Jaemin hurried to support you a little, until you felt a little more steady on your feet. Once you did, you tentatively took a tiny step towards the bathroom. Your arms flew out to your sides to help with balance and Jaemin took the mother bird stance, worriedly standing within arm’s length to catch you if you started to collapse. Jeno watched from a few paces away and smiled at you.

“Let’s see if you can get to me, okay? Then we can help if you need support.” You nodded and gritted your teeth, shuffling forward on your weak legs slowly. The good news: you made it to him without falling or using Jaemin’s ever-there assistance. The not so good news: you practically fell into Jeno when you got to him, using his body for support. He helped you find your center of gravity again before acting as a crutch to get you to the bathroom.

“If you need anything,” Jaemin told you, “I’ll be right out here. Don’t over-exert yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, it’s just like one step to the toilet, and there’s a nice strong counter” you assured him, and closed the door behind you as you stepped away from Jeno’s warm strength. Immediately you felt weak again but you reached out to hold on to the edge of the counter while you walked and got safely to the toilet. Your legs screeched at you as you lowered yourself onto the seat and you relaxed a little bit once you were seated. Recovery was going to be hard.

☽༓☾

Two days passed in a blur of pain and people. You met quite a few new people, like the infamous Lucas (who was a giant baby and who adored you), a woman named Joy who had actual red eyes like the legends said, and a man that everyone called Ten. Actually, you weren’t sure if Ten counted as a man. He dropped by Jaemin’s house the third day, right after Jisung and Chenle had just left after getting some flowers from Jaemin’s garden. He walked in on tentacles, long and thick ones that wrapped around the door frame and curled and uncurled as he talked. He muttered something about wishing they would just admit they were gay and asked Jaemin if he happened to have clams. Jaemin, looking amused, supplied him with an entire bucket of the little creatures. Ten gave him a jar in response and flounced out the door without even looking at you.

“Jaemin,” you asked, “what, or who, was that?” Jaemin laughed happily and the sound was so perfect that you wished he would just keep laughing forever.

“Ten is kind of unique,” Jaemin said. “Obviously, he’s got tentacles, which is unusual, and then he’s also not a vampire so none of us can quite figure out how he can get here, to Vahmpyr. But he can see the future, sort of, which is pretty helpful sometimes. Warns us when we’re getting too active and need to be careful of humans. He’s also convinced that Chenle and Jisung are gay and that they just need some guidance.”

You couldn’t decide on a question to ask about these revelations, so you settled for a very intelligent sounding “huh,” and continued your walking around the house. You were doing a lot better now with your exercises and had been able to make it around the room without holding onto anything for support four times now. Jaemin laughed again and you felt yourself actually flinch from the force of his happiness. It was addicting, almost. He went back to his Gaelic scrolls, which he was translating for a man called Kun, who you had yet to meet.

You had a sudden thought and you found yourself needing to talk, to explain about the other day. “Jaemin,” you said, dropping into the seat across from him at the table with a low groan. “The other day when Jisung and Jeno came, you guys were talking outside, you know?” He looked up from the scrolls, giving you a raised eyebrow like ‘so?’

“So I may or may not have listened to your conversation,” you told him, watching as he gave you his full attention, clicking his pen closed and rolling up the scrolls gently. He didn’t look angry, exactly, more apprehensive than anything. Like he was back to worrying about you throwing things and breaking his windows.

“And?” he prompted, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them you saw something strange there, like fear. But certainly the immortal and beautiful Jaemin couldn’t be scared of you. You must’ve been interpreting it wrong.

“Well you guys were talking about my smell,” you started slowly. “And, uh, you said that you- that I was causing you pain. And I was just wondering, why keep me around? Why not take me to a human hospital, or just kill me? Or turn me? Why did you make yourself suffer?”

He inhaled deeply and then shivered a little bit. When he spoke, his voice was soft and a little scratchy. “For one, we’ve never had a case like this before. I mean obviously there have been people who have smelled good to me before, but usually I’m able to ignore it. With you… it’s like my vampire body can’t get enough of your scent. It wants to turn you, to keep you, in its selfishness. That part of me is weak, in its greed. And of course I couldn’t kill you, I could barely control myself when Chenle- when he-” Jaemin took a deep breath to steady himself. “He wanted to bite you. You smell good to our whole coven, to everyone who’s met you, at least, which is a first. Thankfully you don’t appeal to Jisung the same way you do to me though, because by now you’d be a full fledged member of the family. Jeno is really good at hiding it, but I could tell he wanted to drink from you too, when you used him to help you walk the other day. I think the only ones not affected by it are Lucas and Ten, although that could be because they’re both gay, I’m not sure.” As an afterthought, he added, “actually Lucas is demisexual but I’ve only ever seen him date guys.”

Skipping over the bit about Lucas’ sexuality, you spoke, horrified. “I’ve been hurting all of you? Seriously, why not just make me go to a regular hospital on Earth?”

“Well it would be a little hard to just give you to a hospital on Earth and be like, ‘here, take this body which may or may not have a vampire bite in its neck,’” Jaemin told you. “And also because I haven’t given up on a patient yet, and I didn’t want the first to be because I can’t control myself. And as to why I didn’t turn you… I didn’t want to take your life away. I still don’t. I think your life is going to be a good one and I don’t want to steal that. That’s why you’re going back tomorrow.”

An empty feeling settled in your chest. “You’re sending me back tomorrow? I still haven’t met so many of your friends though!”

He leveled you with a stare. “The rest of my patients never got to meet any other members of the coven. This was a one and done. You don’t need to know the rest of them. Especially not Yuta or Hyuck, good gracious.”

Who are Yuta and Hyuck? you wanted to ask, but his tone implied the end of the conversation, so you refrained from forming the question. “Okay, uh, I’m going to go sit in the garden.”

Jaemin flashed you a barely-there smile, opening his scrolls again and clicking his pen open. “Mhm. Be careful.”

You went out to sit under a tree in his front yard. Actually there were a lot of trees in his front yard - his house was in a forest. He had neglected to mention that when he first told you about his home and you had found it fascinating how it worked. When you walked out, there wasn’t any path out of the small clearing that housed his cottage. When you imagined a person, though, a tree tunnel would open and you could go any which way you wanted. You had tried imagining your parents the first time Jaemin told you about it and it hadn’t worked. He had explained that it only worked for people on this plane of existence, which made sense. When you had imagined Joy, it had shown you a way to a small town. Jaemin had forbidden you to go anywhere without him in case someone got territorial or hungry and killed you by accident. You respected that, you didn’t want to be murdered, but you wanted to see Lucas, and talk to him. He had fun stories to tell of his best friends. Jaemin seemed a bit huffy. It would be fine to go and see him, right? You’d just go and be back quickly before Jaemin even realized you were gone.

You decided that you just needed to talk to a friend right now and focused your mind on Lucas, finding an apartment building on the outskirts of the largest vampire city you had seen so far. With a little more effort you could find his apartment, although you couldn’t see him. The trees opened and you glanced back at Jaemin’s cottage before setting off.

As you walked down the path you reveled in your ability to walk. After two days of walking in short bursts and trying to regain strength in your legs you were finally able to walk like a normal human being, no flailing arms or stops every few meters to take a break and rest your muscles. It was nice, after so little freedom within Jaemin’s one room cabin. You liked being out here better. You avoided tree limbs and roots as you went, always focused on getting to Lucas. At one point your focus switched from his apartment to a convenience store and you panicked, realizing that you couldn’t go there. There, you might actually get murdered like Jaemin had predicted. He hadn’t nursed you back to health and struggled through your scent just for you to go and get yourself killed. You waited, walking more slowly, until the view at the end of the tunnel switched back to Lucas’ apartment’s front door. You breathed out a sigh of relief and continued on your way.

It was fascinating to you how there was no life in the forest besides the plants. You didn’t hear or see any insects or birds and you wondered if that was because they were afraid of the vampires or if they just didn’t exist on this plane. You decided to ask Lucas when you got to his house. After a while you realized that the image at the end of the tree tunnel was no longer a moving image of where you wanted to go, but rather the actual thing, growing bigger as you progressed down the path. You found yourself increasing your pace in your hurry to see Lucas.

When you left the comfort and relative safety of the forest, you nearly ran across the street separating the apartment complex from the trees. You stumbled at one point and almost fell to the pavement but recovered and kept going. You entered the main door and started up the stairs, still hurrying a little faster than your body thought was necessary. You speed walked until you reached the third floor and started looking through the numbers, looking for a door marked with ‘311,’ the one you had seen in the forest while looking for Lucas. After a good few minutes searching, you located the hallway his apartment was in and walked down it, looking at the odd numbers on the right. They counted down from 39, so you had a ways to go. Part of you wondered if the vampires just didn’t care about your presence, because apparently your scent was pretty strong and you were sure that you were stinking up the whole hallway with your human-ness, but nobody had come to murder you yet.

When you finally got to the door labeled with a faded ‘311,’ you stopped to take a breath before knocking on the door. An uncomfortable pause (where you wondered if Lucas was out after all) later, the door opened and you breathed out a sigh of relief, only for the air to stick in your throat at the sight of a man shorter than Lucas, but much scarier.

He had dark brown hair, obviously lightened but only a bit. It fell over his forehead and stopped just short of his eyes. His lips set in a grim line as he looked over you before they pulled back into what should have been a heart stopping smile, but was instead a snarl, a grimace of distrust and anger. The feature that stuck out most to you were his eyes. You imagined that when he was happy, his eyes would glow with an inner light. Now they were dark and they promised violence.

No sooner had you come to this conclusion before he had you pinned against the opposite wall. “Give me one good reason,” he hissed, “why I shouldn’t just kill you.” His arm pressed into your throat, keeping you pinned against the wall, on your tiptoes to accommodate the height of his arm.

Lucas, I came to see Lucas, you tried to say, but it got stuck on the way out of your throat and instead what came out was a weak, “Lu…” followed by a wispy groan. The man furrowed his brow and moved to hold you against the wall by your arms so you could speak. “Lucas,” you gasped, air rushing back into your body and allowing you to speak once more. “Friend.” The man put you completely down now, on the floor, and you moved to massage your throat before his eyes, dark and threatening, halted your movement. Lucas certainly has a knack for choosing friends, you thought.

“Don’t move,” he growled, “Or I’ll throw you out our living room window. It may not kill you, but it will hurt.” Then he turned around slightly and called, “Xuxi! There’s someone here to see you!”

You heard shuffling inside before the figure of Lucas appeared, tall and thick and seeming like safety incarnate in the presence of someone as terrifying as the man who still had one hand next to your head.

“Yang?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

The man, Yang, shifted so that Lucas could see your face. “This one just came knocking on our door and said he wanted to see you. Do you know her?”

Lucas gasped slightly and sped up, blurring a little, so that he reached you in less than a second. “Oh my gosh, Y/N, are you okay? Yangyang, this is the human that’s been staying with Jaemin for the past week, she’s my friend!”

“Hey Lucas,” you said weakly, finally reaching up to massage your throat now that you had someone to protect you from being thrown out the living room window. “I’m okay, I think. Just a little lightheaded.” Part of you wanted to add, Is his name Yang or Yangyang? but you figured now wasn’t the time to ask.

A strange look crossed Lucas’ face. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright, come inside and sit down, I’ll get you some water.” You followed him into the apartment, Yang (Yangyang?) behind you. He still slightly scared you and you stayed as close to Lucas as possible. Lucas spoke again as he grabbed a water bottle for you. You noted idly that it was Dasani. “But, uh, didn’t Jaemin tell you to, like, not come out here? So you didn’t get murdered? Cause that could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“Not you too!” you cried, exaggerating the syllables. “I know I could’ve died, but I wanted to see my friend! How hard is that to understand? Did it bother you so much that I wanted to see you?”

Lucas figited uncomfortably. “Well I appreciate that you came to see me, that’s really nice of you. It’s just that Jaemin was right. This really isn’t a safe place for you to be. I mean Yangyang could’ve killed you if he didn’t have such a heart of gold.” You threw a disbelieving glance towards the man in question and he shrugged, mouth tugging up in a mischievous grin.

“Okay, I mean, I can go back if you don’t want me here, I have to be back before Jaemin realizes I’m gone anyway,” you said, drinking more of your water. Yangyang and Lucas both froze.

“You didn’t get his permission?” Lucas asked in a tone that confused you. Was he scared of Jaemin? “Or tell him you were going for a walk? Or anything?”

“No, of course not. He would’ve said no!” you protested unhappily. This was not how you imagined this trip going.

“Okay,” Lucas said. “I’m taking you back right now. Jaemin will- well, he won’t kill me, but he’ll be scarily close if he finds out you came here.”

With a heavy sigh, you stood up. You knew that if he needed to, he could just throw you over his shoulder and carry you all the way back to Jaemin’s cottage. Darned vampire strength. “Fine.”

You got down the hallway and into the stairwell before Lucas tensed up again. “Shoot,” he muttered, looking down the stairs below. You couldn’t hear or see anything, and you were about to tell him so when he sighed and you heard a pitter patter like rain, growing louder by the second.

Moments later Jamin appeared in front of you, pink hair mussed and eyes wild with a mix of fear and anger. For a moment he didn’t even speak, just glared at you. The fear faded from his eyes. When he did speak, the words seemed like poison being spit off the tongue of a snake.

“I can’t believe you,” he seethed. “I kept you in my house, fed you, nursed you back to health. I let you use all of my things and was even going to send you home once you were perfectly healthy again. I gave you one rule. One! Just to keep you safe! And you go and break it. You could have died, Y/N, do you understand that? I did everything in my power to keep you in an environment where you weren’t in danger! I didn’t allow Hyuck to come over, I made sure that you were prepared to meet Lucas and Jeno and even Jisung! But all of my efforts faded to nothing when you opened that doorway to the city. I’m taking you home right now, I can’t bear to keep you here any longer, not when you obviously have no sense of self preservation!”

He picked you up before you could even blink and you felt a sharp wind on your face as he ran home. His steps sounded like raindrops falling on pavement, sharp but small, a pinprick of sound in an otherwise silent stairwell. Lucas had disappeared from view in less than a second and you shut your eyes against the vertigo of being carried at such a speed. Everything blurred, everything was indistinct and most things weren’t even worthy of notice. Jaemin smelled like ink, and you had space in the very back of your mind to wonder if he had spilled his, in his haste to find you. It didn’t seem like a very vampire-like thing to do.

A few moments later you entered the canopy of the forest and every once in a while you heard a stick break under his foot or a rock get catapulted out of the way. Then you felt the sun on your back again and you gasped as Jaemin dumped you onto the warm grass, standing tall before you. He said something in a language you didn’t know - it sounded vaguely like Latin - and the grass fell out from under you as the ground opened up and you fell into space.

☽༓☾

When you woke up the next morning to your alarm, you wondered briefly if your entire experience with Jaemin and the other vampires was a dream. The puncture wounds that had been on your neck were utterly nonexistent, and there was no evidence on you that you had even left the comfort of your bed. On the other hand, you had clear memories of your time in Vahmpyr, short as it was. You remembered how it smelled and how the trees had felt as you walked outside. You remembered the feeling of the cool granite of the bathroom countertop. Mostly you remembered being with Lucas, Jeno, Jisung, and Chenle. You remembered almost dying at the hands of Lucas’ roommate and you remembered the terrifying flight in Jaemin’s arms.

Jaemin.

You grimaced at yourself in the mirror and spit out your toothpaste. There was no way your mind could have made up someone as excruciatingly kind and beautiful as Jaemin was. At the same time you felt anger bubble up inside of you. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say goodbye - he had just put you through to your Earthly self without any words between the two of you. You hadn’t said goodbye to Lucas or Jeno either, nor had you seen the rest of your new acquaintances. The anger flared, hot against your insides, and you could swear you actually felt your chest twinge. You spat out the last of your toothpaste and replaced your toothbrush in its holder, going to get ready for your day.

The next few days were spent alternately missing the simplicity of life on Vahmpyr and being angry at Jaemin. Assignments piled onto your shoulders and in addition to that, you discovered some sort of disconnect between you and the part of you that had stayed on Earth while you were out. That part of you seemed to dismiss your time in Vahmpyr as something it had dreamed up all on its own. It didn’t acknowledge you and liked to take control of your body whenever you weren’t paying full attention to it. Every time it did that you felt the twinge in your chest again, except it got more and more painful. You started having headaches that the other part of you didn’t seem to feel but which pressed against your skull like tiny war hammers thudding into the bone by your temples and occasionally your eyes.

Your vision would go blurry and you started having lapses of consciousness, only to wake up and find yourself doing just fine with your other part in charge. During these lapses you would dream of being in Vahmpyr again, and you saw Lucas smiling with Yangyang, Chenle rolling his eyes at Jisung before hugging him tightly. Other men you didn’t know and other women you hadn’t met also flew across the screen of your eyes but they disappeared quickly. Ten even passed by once, haughtily scrolling past everyone until he sidled up to a tall man with long blond hair who smiled down at him and pressed a gentle kiss to one of Ten’s tentacles. A man with red hair and an eyebrow slit served coffee to a man who chewed like a rabbit. A group of three guys held up a sign that said “Go Taemin!” as a group played football. A woman in a suit jacket over jean shorts sat with a box of papers, crying. Joy played a game with other girls where they tried to push lockers over on each other. Everything (with the exception of the lockers) looked like fun. It was better than Earth, at any rate. Every night you went to bed wondering if you might just die by morning and leave the other half of yourself behind to control the body. You were just along for the ride at this point.

The evening of your fourth day back on Earth you went to sit outside the dorm building on a bench, just for some fresh air. For once you had control of the body and you let your head tip back, closing your eyes and just feeling. The bench pressed up against your back in a way that hurt slightly, but your body had been wracked with pain for two days straight and it didn’t ache so much as behind your eyes or inside your skull. The evening breeze blew across your eyelids and brought with it the scent of sun-warmed dirt.

It smelled like Jaemin, that first morning you woke up in his house. When he had helped you across the cottage towards the bathroom and been outlined by the sun, when he had made you soup and sat with you on the couch while he explained where you were and what he was.

Your body shook with a particularly painful pound on the inside of your ribs. You let yourself relax against the bench again and the sensations enveloped you once more. You felt yourself let go of your body on Earth and float away, less falling and more weightlessness, floating away on a wind that smelled of sun on dirt and felt like arms wrapping around you while rain fell on summer-warmed pavement. You floated away on this wind and it lifted you endlessly until you nodded off, finally free of the pains that had kept you company for the past few days. You wondered if perhaps you had died of it, if being back on Earth had perhaps been more detrimental to you than beneficial.

Then your back hit something hard and the breath was knocked from your lungs, waking you up again and telling you that something had gone very very wrong or very very well. You gasped air back into your body and rolled over weakly, now in a body you recognized as the one you inhabited on Vahmpyr. Grass poked your inner arms and you pushed yourself up to sitting with your legs crossed. You massaged your chest as you inhaled and found yourself miraculously free of pain, aside from the slight burn of breath inhaled too quickly after loss of oxygen. The war hammers in your head had vacated the premises and the aches of your ribs had subsided, making it easier to breath and just sit without drawing in pained gasps.

You registered a return of cold as a shadow fell over you and looked up to see none other than Chenle, with Jisung behind him. Did they never go anywhere without each other? Well, besides hunting.

“Y/N?” He gaped down at you, and you looked back up at him.

“The one and only,” you said, before you realized that didn’t apply to you anymore. “Well, one of only two in existence.”

He laughed that weird dolphin laugh he had again and reached out a hand to help you up. You took it, standing unsteadily on two feet that didn’t ache the moment you put weight on them. “What’re you doing back here? Jaemin-hyung said he sent you back to Earth.”

You feel the corners of your mouth tug down almost instinctively at the mention of Jaemin. “He did. I don’t think Earth agreed with me,” you told him. Jisung walked forward and looked you up and down.

“Maybe we should take you back to Jaeminnie hyung, he’ll know what to do.”

You groaned. “I really don’t want to deal with him at the moment.”

“We can take him to Kun-ge,” Chenle interjected smoothly. “He’ll know better than Jaemin-hyung anyway, he’s been a doctor and a vampire longer.” A side of Chenle appeared that you hadn’t seen yet, a side that took charge in a way that wasn’t just insulting anyone near him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. He took your hand with one of his and grabbed Jisung’s arm with the other.

“Come on, let’s go see Kun-ge!”

☽༓☾

Kun, as it happened, lived in the same building as Lucas. Actually he lived one apartment over, behind the door labeled ‘313.’ When he opened the door he seemed strangely unsurprised to see you there, just breathed out a sigh and let you in. He had nice light brown hair that worked well with his skin tone and eyes that smiled even when he wasn’t. He had this aura of parenting around him, like he took care of everyone he knew. It was comfortable to be around him from the start. Once Chenle had explained where he found you, Kun sat you down and asked exactly what had happened.

“Listen,” he said seriously. “I’ve never seen a human react the way you did. Nobody has ever come back, from what I know. We have to figure out exactly what happened, why you came back, and how to get you back to Earth.”

You inhaled deeply, relishing in the painless breath. “Okay, uh, I’m not really sure where to start,” you told him.

“Tell me about how you got sent home.”

“Okay. So, I left Jaemin’s cottage to come and see Lucas and I guess Jaemin is a lot scarier when he gets mad, because he was not happy when he found out I had left. He did this, like, superfast running thing, very Twilight, and carried me to this random clearing, I guess, I didn’t look around much.” You paused to let Kun write that down on his very professional looking clipboard, but he waved you on. Right, he was a vampire. He could write stuff fast.

“So he sort of dumped me on the ground and said something in a language I didn’t know, it sounded like Latin but I’m not sure. Then the ground sort of opened up and I fell and fell and fell until I rejoined my, uh, Earthly body.” You paused to take a breath and think about how to convey what happened when you got back to Earth.

“When I got back there was this weird disconnect with my body. Like, uh, there was me, in my body, and there was also this other part of me, the part of me that stayed behind when I came here the first time. That other part sort of took the main control of the body we lived in, and it felt like I was along for the ride. It liked to pretend that I wasn’t there, that my time here in Vahmpyr wasn’t real. It was weird. Then a little into my stay, I started getting these super bad pains all over my body.”

Kun interrupted you by holding up a finger. “How long were you home before the pains started?”

You thought back, struggling to pinpoint when they had started. “I think maybe a little longer than twenty four hours? When I got back I woke up in that body, and about one sleep later I started getting the pains, which would be like twenty five hours. Twenty four and a half, maybe. At first it was just these weird twinges in my chest, like my ribs were popping every time I took a breath, then it progressed. I got these horrible headaches, and my chest hurt all the time, and walking felt like attacking my feet, and my neck was always super achy. The thing is, my other half didn’t feel any of that. It was just my half of our consciousness. Then about on my fourth day back I went outside and sat on the bench outside my dorm. I laid back and, uh, it felt like I died or something. I just felt my consciousness leave the body and I guess the other half is still there living down there and now I’m here.”

Kun, Chenle, and Jisung all sat on the couch together, Kun looking over his notes while the other two guys just sat in silence. After a minute Kun spoke. “I don’t really know what happened to you, but I’m almost certain that your connection to your human self is gone. Or at least, your Earthly self. I don’t think we can send you back anymore, I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes full of remorse. You expected to mirror that feeling, but you discovered that it didn’t bother you so much. The other half of yourself would keep all of your friends and family from having to mourn you, and you could stay here, painless.

“I’m actually kind of glad about that,” you told them, and Chenle’s head snapped from picking at his jeans to look at you.

“Glad?” he demanded, incredulous. “To stay here?”

“Well yeah, I mean I was in pain most of the time I was back on Earth so it’s not like I’m eager to go back there. Plus, since I didn’t actually die nobody has to mourn me. And part of the time I was like… seeing Vahmpyr. Like is Ten dating this super tall guy with blonde hair? And Joy was pushing lockers over on her friends? And you two!” You turned an accusatory finger at Jisung and Chenle. “You two are adorable together!”

Jisung sighed. “Not you too…”

Kun shushed him. “You could see what was going on here in Vahmpyr?”

“Well, sort of,” you told him. “I saw that Lucas and Yangyang were having, like, a picnic?”

Kun’s eyebrows furrowed and he muttered, “I knew they had one without me.”

“I also saw this guy with red hair giving coffee to a man who sort of chewed like a bunny. And there was this group of three guys holding up a sign that said “Go Taemin!” I think, and I guess Taemin must have been playing football with the others I could see, although I couldn’t recognize any of the people playing. Oh, and there was this lady with really pretty hair who had a box of papers and she was just, like, sitting there and crying. She had the part of her hair near her neck bleached and the outer layers were still black, and she was wearing a suit jacket with jean shorts, which is kind of a weird combination.”

Kun looked over his notes. “That’s really interesting. All of those things have happened since you left, definitely. Joy and her friends like to play games where they try to kill each other, because they’re all immortal. The red haired man was probably Taeyong, and the bunny man would be Doyoung. Ten is dating Johnny, and yes, he is pretty tall and has blonde hair. I haven’t seen Taemin-hyung in a while so I don’t know if he’s playing football again or not. I don’t know about the woman with the cool hair either.”

“Definitely Taeyeon-noona,” Jisung interjected. “She broke up with her boyfriend a few days ago, and she does have hair dyed like that right now.”

Kun raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Huh, I hope she’s doing okay. Actually I think maybe we should worry more about whoever she broke up with, she’s not exactly good with breakups.”

As though it’s a secret, Jisung’s next words came out in a whisper, and he leaned closer to Chenle and Kun. You had to strain a little to hear. “I heard it was a human. He, like, got super insecure about the fact that she wasn’t aging with him and broke up with her. It’s killing her. She really liked that guy.”

“Why did she get with him in the first place?” Chenle sounded absolutely confused. “She knew it would end like this. That’s how the last two ended.”

“I don’t know, but now I’m really worried for the guy,” said Kun. “We might have to cover up for her.” The implications of his words sank in and you made a small sound. All three men snapped their heads up and it looked as though they forgot you were there.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry Y/N! Do you have anywhere to stay where you’ll be safe for at least a few days? Jaemin’s cottage should be pretty easy to stay hidden in.”

“She doesn’t want to go and see him after what happened,” Chenle supplied helpfully. “I’m taking her back to my place once we’re done here.” Kun appeared to consider that, and then nodded his approval.

“That sounds alright. Tomorrow we can go out and get her some things to make her stay more comfortable. Maybe we can find one of the Outer Plots to put her on.”

“Outer Plots?” you asked, because the way he said it demanded capitalization in your head.

“They’re sort of exactly what they sound like,” Kun explained. “There are these pieces of land around the edges of the towns that nobody really lives on but they’re solid places to live, if we can get a good one. It’s a little bit like Jaemin’s land out there, lot’s of forest, so we can set up tree tunnels for you to get here fast, if you need to.”

You nodded. “That does sound pretty good. I don’t know what I’m going to do though, it’s not like I have all that many hobbies. I was midway through getting my bachelor’s when I left.”

“That’s fine,” Chenle said. “I have plenty of things to keep you entertained, and we can get some of the other guys to keep you company if we’re busy. There are a lot of us with a lot of open time. I also have a ton of extra textbooks from learning languages, so if you want you can spend your life becoming fluent in Japanese, Latin, French, German, Scottish Gaelic, Hawaiian, or one of the others I have. Or multiple, if you learn fast.”

“Thanks Chenle.” He wasn’t actually so bad, you thought. He had brought you to Kun and he was offering to let you use his house and his things. “I might just take you up on that.”

“You guys should probably leave now, actually,” Kun said. “At human speeds you’ll get home right on time.”

Chenle checked his watch and nodded. “He’s right. We should get going.”

You thanked Kun again and Chenle led you out the door, Jisung following behind you. You separated ways with him once you left the apartment building, his figure disappearing swiftly into the trees. Once you blinked there was no finding him again.

You walked behind Chenle quietly, choosing to observe your surroundings. You didn’t see much in the way of low quality or old houses here. It seemed as though a lower class had been eradicated entirely and the vampires could choose where they wanted to live. When you asked him how that was possible, Chenle laughed that peculiar screech of his and said, “when you’re reborn into a family of beings that has been around for millenia, you accumulate some shared wealth. Especially when some of the coven members have doctorate degrees and work on Earth full time, and some of us had familial connections as well, like money left in wills and such.”

You nodded. “So you guys are basically like the elite class of the universe.”

“Pretty much. My house is probably the biggest you’ll ever be in, because I like to splurge a little bit. Unfortunately you might get lost, though, and if you do, just call for me. I’ll make sure to be listening all night in case you need me.”

“It’s that big?” you asked in disbelief. “Do you live in Buckingham Palace?”

He grinned, showing off his incisors. “Bigger.”

“And you live alone?”

“Well, I haven’t always. Jisung and I will probably have sleepovers for all of eternity, and whenever a new coven starts they stay with me for a few days while they get their own living quarters set up, but for the most part , yes. I don’t actually spend a ton of time in the house, it’s more just for the sensation of owning a building that large.”

You shook your head. “As a broke college student, I find that completely unfair. I was working two jobs just to keep my head above water and you’re on this alternate plane just chilling in your house that’s bigger than Buckingham Palace.”

He smiled again. “Nobody said life was fair, Y/N. Nobody.”

☽༓☾

Three days and a shocking amount of Gaelic verbs later (you only got lost in Chenle’s palace four times), a house was ready for you to move in. Johnny and Ten had furnished it for you, and Chenle had explained that the two of them were the stylists of the coven, for the most part. The mysterious Yuta had also taken part in finding high quality fabrics to fit their vision. You had thanked the whole group of vampires who helped with the house profusely for not only building said house, but also for getting you a bunch of comfortable furniture. They had smiled and said it was their pleasure and all of the typical things, but what really stood out was Ten’s reaction. He had barely paid attention to you - he barely paid attention to anyone besides Johnny and Yangyang, who he called their baby - this whole time. When you had thanked him, however, he wrapped all but four of his tentacles around you in a surprisingly dry hug.

“It’s refreshing to have you around,” he had told you. “I’m glad we could help you get settled.”

Later as you reflected on it, you figured that it probably got pretty boring to know what was going to happen all of the time, and maybe you had disrupted the usual happenings of his visions and the vampires in Vahmpyr. Maybe you made other people happy too, to have a new person around.

One person who didn’t seem thrilled to have you back was Jaemin. Every time you made eye contact with him (twice, over the three days), he grimaced and turned away like the sight of you hurt him. Maybe he was mad that you were back within scenting range. He wouldn’t get near you, so it wasn’t like you could ask.

While settling into your new normal, you discovered that Chenle was actually a good friend. His love language was insults and pointed jabs, but he actually did care for his friends quite a lot. He had watched Jaemin from across your front yard as they were laying down grass seed and sighed.

“I wish he would just talk to you,” he told you sadly. “I’ve never, in all our years together, seen him like this. I’m not sure anyone has, even Taeil-hyung.” He didn’t elaborate on who Taeil was, and you didn’t press him. Was Jaemin really so mad that he couldn’t even look at you?

“Well,” you had said, “I don’t want to talk to him. He dumped me through an interplanar tunnel without warning me and yelled at me like the world was ending when I took a walk. I don’t think there’s much to be talked about. He must hate me.” Over Chenle’s shoulder, you had seen Jaemin flinch slightly. How strange. Part of you hoped that he felt the same pain that you did, a sort of ache that told you that you were unwanted. Another part of you murmured quietly in the back of your mind that you were being petty. You had chosen to ignore it for the time being. You were being petty, but so was he. He had thousands of years on you, so he should be the mature one, right?

“I don’t think he hates you. I think you both need to grow up and talk like adults,” Chenle had said flatly, orange hair seeming to flash in the sun. Jaemin sort of curled in on himself.

“Tell that to Mister Millenia before you lecture me on growing up,” you had replied. Then you reopened your Gaelic textbook and pretended to bury yourself in it, blatantly ignoring Chenle’s judgemental gaze.

“Fine,” he had muttered angrily. “You can both suffer for all I care.” Then he had stalked off and started pounding fence posts into the dirt so hard that Jeno had to tell him to take a break before he broke them.

You found yourself thinking about that moment as you walked through the trees, ironically on your way to see Jaemin. Since you had close to nothing to do , you had offered yourself up as an errand person to anyone that would hire and found yourself working for Kun running scrolls across Vahmpyr while he translated and examined them. It kept you busy and in shape, and Kun seemed happy with your service. This morning he had sent you to get the Scottish scroll back from Jaemin, along with a few other documents to pick up and drop off. You had saved this one for last, procrastinating on having to see him again. As his cottage came into full view, you sighed, preparing yourself for a cold shoulder and a very quick visit.

“Jaemin?” you called, knocking on the front door. It was closed for once, usually he kept it open for better air circulation. A moment later the door opened and there he stood, in all his cotton candy colored glory.

“Y/N? What’re you doing here?”

“Kun sent me, he wants that Scottish scroll back. He said he hopes you’re done translating it since you’re had it for a few weeks now,” you replied, willing your voice to stay professional. You were here for the scroll. When Jaemin didn’t reply, you looked up at him. “So? Where is it?”

“I don’t know why he sent you out like this, but I sent that scroll back three days ago, on our agreed upon date. I know he got it, because he sent me back a thank you with those little stickers he likes to use.”

“Oh. Um, I’ll just go then,” you muttered, turning around as you spoke. “Sorry I bothered you.”

Suddenly a hand was wrapped around your own, keeping you in place. Your breath caught in your throat, remembering the last time that had happened with a vampire. All that came out of Jaemin’s mouth, however, was, “Can I talk to you? Please?”

“Jaemin, please let me go,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. His hand released you immediately and you stepped a pace away from him and turned around so that you could see his face. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, uh, do you want some tea? I have some inside…” It was clear he hadn’t expected you to actually agree and he needed to collect his thoughts, so you nodded and he led you inside, sitting you on the familiar couch while he busied himself in the kitchen.

“I actually wanted to apologize,” Jaemin said after a minute. “I worried so much about protecting you that I forgot to let you enjoy your time here. It scared me how good you were at adjusting to this world, how much you liked being with Lucas and my other friends… I’m not used to humans reacting positively.” The kettle whistled and he took a moment to pour water into the mugs, steam rising gently from them in silvery whisps.

Once he poured the water, he continued speaking. “I wanted to make sure you knew that it wasn’t all fun and games here. I didn't want you to go looking for a place in our community because I was worried that you’d get killed. Vampires are pretty possessive of their property on Vahmpyr, for the most part, and you went right into one of the biggest apartment complexes within a day’s travelling distance - and that’s vampire distance, not human distance. Lucas told me about what happened with Yangyang, and I almost tore Yang’s arm off, I was so mad. He could have actually murdered you, and I couldn’t stomach the thought. What if Lucas hadn’t been home? What if Yangyang hadn’t given you that one moment to explain yourself? What if you had met another one of us on the stairs, without any protection? It terrified me to consider.” He walked over, a mug carried in each hand, and sat on the couch, leaving a large space in between you. It was strangely reminiscent of that first day, when he had explained Vahmpyr to you over soup.

“Of course,” Jaemin started, and you refocused. “That was only after I had sent you home, that he told me about that. When I dumped you in that tunnel, it was just fear of you being unsafe that made me so mad. The fact that you would willingly put yourself in danger, when I valued you so highly? Inconceivable. And yet, it happened. So I made another big mistake: I sent you home. I thought you would be better off there, regardless of what was happening. I knew you were healthy enough to walk to the city, so I thought you were fine. Apparently not. I heard from Chenle and Kun what happened to you back on Earth and it broke another part of me apart. I hurt you, in sending you back, not just in temporary emotional pain, but in physical pain that persisted through your entire stay. We still don’t know why you reacted the way you did, but it scared me to hear of it. I had made yet another mistake that could have killed you.” He paused to take a sip of his tea, and you did too. It was pleasant, not too hot and not too cold, just warming up your insides.

“Then the last straw came when you said I must hate you…” Jaemin’s voice broke slightly. “If anything, it’s the exact opposite, I realized I missed you more than I should, given you should be just a patient. I wanted to hug you the second I saw you, but you looked so mad to see me that I couldn’t do it. I was literally building a house for you and still couldn’t look you in the eyes for more than a moment. So I went home in shame, knowing that you were right, with thousands of years under my belt, I should be the more mature one. I decided that the next time I saw you, I would talk to you, no matter the circumstances. I couldn’t have you keep living thinking that I hated you. I didn’t actually expect you to come in when I asked. I thought I’d have to follow you through the woods, honestly.”

He fell silent, took another sip of his tea, and for the first time, you spoke. “I really didn’t want to talk to you. I wanted you to realize how much I hurt from your actions, but I think maybe I took that a little too far. I knew you were protecting me, but I really wanted to see somebody, and I knew you wouldn’t let me out, so I ran away. I didn’t really know what I was getting into. I probably should have asked you to accompany me, at least. Not my finest moment.”

Jaemin laughed weakly, taking another sip of tea. “Not mine either. I should have trusted you more.”

“And I shouldn’t have run off without even asking for your help..”

He smiled at you, that gorgeous little smile that made your heart smile back.

“Friends?” you asked.

He hesitated for only a moment, a strange sort of disappointment flashing across his face, before he was extending his hand to meet yours. “Friends.”

You grinned at him, finishing your tea. “Great. Now I need to go yell at Kun for sending me out to see you when I didn’t need to.”

“Isn’t it good that he did?” Jaemin asked with a confused frown on his face.

“Well yes, but it was a very Cupid-like thing to do, wasn’t it? I don’t tolerate my friends trying to play Cupid with myself and my other friends.” You stood up and walked your empty tea cup to the kitchen. “Do you want to come?”

He laughed. “No, you can just tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded. “Alright.”

You walked out into the cool twilight and started going towards Kun’s house. He had a big storm coming.

☽༓☾

A few days later, you were sitting in Jaemin’s cottage again, Gaelic textbook open on your lap. Since he was close to fluent in the language, he was helping you learn it. It wasn’t an extraordinarily difficult language, but some of the words were hard to pronounce and he had been eager to help you.

“Look here,” he said, pointing at some words on the page. “Say this for me.”

“Tha gaol agam ort,” you replied. He grinned.

“That’s how it’s written, but not how it’s said. Okay, now listen to me pronounce it. ‘Ha geul akeum orsht’. Repeat that for me.”

“‘Ha geul akeum orsht’? That’s how you say that?” you demanded. “This is like French! They don’t spell things anywhere close to how they’re said!”

“Unfortunately, most languages don’t. The same goes for Korean verb conjugations and English words and, yes, French everything, but it’s just learning new rules. After a while you understand it. I promise that you’ll get it eventually. You have the rest of your life.”

You looked over at him suddenly, questions rising to the forefront over Gaelic words. “Am I really going to stay here forever? Am I never going to see Earth again, just sit here as a useless human surrounded by powerful and immortal vampires, until I die?”

He seemed surprised by the questions. “I’m not sure any of us had really thought about it,” he said carefully.

“You all had just accepted the fact that I was stuck on your plane of existence with nothing worth doing to do? When am I going to use Scottish Gaelic, Jaemin? When will this actually come in handy, except to distract me? I’m here to do nothing, and the moment I go back to Earth, I start suffering. What am I meant to do here, Jaem?”

Jaemin gently lifted the textbook from your lap and put in on his coffee table, then pulled you into his side for a hug. You snuggled into him, inhaling the scent of sunshine and warm earth. Comfort.

“I don’t know exactly how to make you feel better,” Jaemin murmured from somewhere above your head. “But we all like having you around, you know that. It’s nice to have someone young around. We haven’t turned a human in about thirty years, so the novelty has worn off, and here we have this beautiful creature who is new in so many ways. You’re refreshing, and you’re human, so you’ll continue to be refreshing.”

“Well, thank you,” you said, muffled in his side. “But still, I don’t feel like I have anything worth doing here. You can all do anything I can do, just ten times faster. I have no unique skills or brains or anything. So what am I meant to do? I can’t even go spy on the other humans or anything because I can’t go back to Earth!”

Jaemin shifted you a little bit in his arms and started rubbing your shoulder softly. “Is there anything you particularly enjoy doing? Maybe you could do art, or gardening? Or I have this book of old forms of witchcraft?”

You turned to face him. “You have a book of witchcraft sitting around?”

He released you and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I found a papyrus scroll in this ruined Egyptian city, and I kept it just ‘cause it was cool. Then I learned hieroglyphics so that I could translate it and made a copy. Unfortunately, witchcraft is… not my strong suit, and I’m somewhat afraid of giving it away in case I never see it again. I spent a lot of time and energy on that translation.”

“And you want me to use it?” you asked, confused. Why on earth would he give it to you if he didn’t trust the perfectly composed vampires around him? “I mean it sounds super cool, but aren’t you worried about it being in my hands? I am a human, after all.”

“Well-”

Jaemin was cut off at that moment by a sharp knock on the door. At least, you assumed it was a knock, it sounded a little bit more like a wet thwap than a knock. Jaemin blurred slightly as he ran over to the door and opened it, revealing cloudy skies dropping rain onto a harried-looking Ten.

“Ten-hyung?” he asked, sounding as confused as you felt. “I’d say this is a nice surprise, but why are you here? I thought today was your Earth day? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Ten said, gasping slightly as he spoke. “I ran straight here from the Pacific.” You took a second to think about the fact that Ten was swimming in the Pacific Ocean before refocusing on him. “-future just completely shifted, a few minutes ago. Y/N-” He turned to face you completely. “Whatever you two just did, it caused you to become a vampire in the future.”

“But we were just talking?” you told him, confused. “It wasn’t like Jaem was about to bite me.” You turned to Jaemin. “Right?”

He looked at you solemnly. “If you were going to have been bitten by me, it would have already happened. Ten-hyung, are you sure that she’s a vampire in your future? Can you see more details?”

Ten closed his eyes briefly like he was trying to focus, and in the meantime a tentacle wrung the salt and rain water out of his hair. Jaemin wrinkled his nose at the growing puddle. Ten spoke, eyes fluttering open slowly. “In the parts I can see, she’s covered in this, like, tree? It’s a little bit fuzzy. It’s green, and looks like it has brown splotches like branches. Maybe a tree falls on her or something. Anyway, you take one look at him and bite her. She goes limp... After that? Fuzzy scenes of her waking up and you taking her running. Like, really running. Vampire running.”

Jaemin took a shaky breath. “Okay, I don’t know why our conversation would have caused a tree to fall on her in the future. We were talking about, like, Earth and art and stuff. Oh, and my witchcraft book.”

Ten’s eyes refocused on him, narrowing slightly. “You’re going to give her your witchcraft book after not letting me touch it? That’s a little underhanded.” His eyes narrow briefly before looking at you. “But maybe that’s it. You’ll just have to make sure that she doesn’t practice any witchcraft under the cover of trees. Otherwise I think you’ll be fine. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks Ten,” you murmured. “For warning us and stuff.”

“Of course. Now I need to go back to the Pacific. Ta ta!” Ten waved to you and walked out the door.

“Well,” Jaemin said, “that’s some news, huh?”

“Yeah. Do you think that it’s okay for me to practice witchcraft with this in my future?”

“I do. I think you’ll be fine. We’ll keep you as safe as we possibly can, and if you become a vampire… at least it won’t be because I gave in. I’ll still be strong.”

“Jaem, I don’t think that was ever in question.”

“It was for me.” His voice went dark momentarily, then he brightened up again. “At any rate, I think we can safely teach you some things that’ll keep life interesting.”

You grinned. “Then let’s get started.”

☽༓☾

You were surprised at how easily witchcraft came to you, in the beginning. Jaemin insisted that you had some sort of gift with it, and as much as you told him that was silly, it seemed possible. You could easily understand instructions on Jaemin’s careful translations that even he couldn’t decipher. You gave up on Gaelic after a while, focused more on learning the original Egyptian Hieroglyphs of the spells and potions. You trusted Jaemin’s precise translation, but there was something unique about seeing an instruction in a new language and being able to understand it.

Days turned to weeks as you experimented with the materials growing in and around Vahmpyr. Taeil, who you eventually met, turned out to be a valuable resource. He was an avid collector of ancient written works, including but not limited to an original Greek copy of The Odyssey, Chinese bamboo books saved from the book burnings of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, and an exact replica of the Rosetta Stone. Taeil must have been ancient himself to have all of these valuables, but he still had the energy of the far younger members of their coven, which amazed you. He showed you different specialties of different cultures within witchcraft, ideas born from scrolls and tablets, bamboo strips and wax blocks. It was far more information than you could ever decipher or use during your short human life, but every day you got better, starting out small with poultices that you had to injure yourself to try and ward spells that exhausted you but could make your home more secure than any in Vahmpyr (or on Earth).

At one point Chenle gifted you a book covered in old stains and strangely familiar drawings that you started to use before abruptly realizing that it was an old chemistry textbook. You invited him over that afternoon and whacked him over the head with the thick pages. He told you with a disgruntled look that he put a lot of effort into that, thank you very much. And besides, chemistry was a magic in itself. (His words, not yours.) After that you made sure to thoroughly inspect any gifts you received from the more mischievous family members.

Lucas came over and helped you set up more complicated equipment that you couldn’t lift, like a big cauldron, which you actually did use on the regular after you learned how to use it, and after some consideration you set up a chemistry station for the odd experiment. At this point your house was more magical items than actual living space, something that Kun was quick to point out when he came over.

“You know, you should really be more careful about having all of these powders and dusts and-” He cut himself off with a distasteful wrinkle of his nose. “Things.” He pursed his lips, looking at you. “We don’t really know what these things will do to you in the long run. You have to be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded distractedly, making his coffee and a drink for yourself. “Maybe I’ll clean it all up sometime, but you know I’m awfully busy these days.” You used a spoon to stir in the milk and sugar, tapping the metal against the china in a soft clink.

He sighed tiredly. “Your health is less important than staying busy?”

You gave him a look that you hoped conveyed your need to stay busy, to continuously learn and improve. “Keeping my schedule full keeps me healthy, Kun. At least mentally.”

Kun didn’t look impressed by your reasoning. “I think your mental health will go down pretty quickly if you get sick and can’t do anything because you’re stuck in bed twenty-four-seven.”

You gave a sigh of your own at that. “And as always,” you announced to the room at large, “Doctor Kun gives amazing advice that I shouldn’t ignore but probably will.”

Y/n,” he said in a warning tone. “Seriously. You need to be careful! No human has ever lived here for so long, and I worry about you catching some mysterious illness that nobody has ever heard of!”

“Kun, I will do my best to keep myself healthy. I’ve put every kind of ward that I can around my house to protect me, I have magically circulated and cleaned air, I have literal superhumans to protect me from anything else, and I’m happy here! I finally have something to contribute. Maybe someday I’ll find some concoction or enchantment that will let me visit Earth, even. I just don’t know. But I’m going to keep trying.”

He took his coffee out of your grasp and walked back into the living room, which housed your indoor plants, magical and earthly. “That’s all I can ask,” he said, voice betraying his disappointment in that fact. “I’ll still give you monthly checkups for a while though, just to make sure.

“Can’t Jaemin take care of me?” you asked, thinking of Jaemin with his warm smile and caring words and the smell of sun on dirt and- well. Jaemin felt like safety in a person. Kun was wonderful, but Jaemin was just that little bit better, that little bit more comfortable to be around.

“He could,” Kun replied after taking a sip of coffee. “But I know he’s been busy lately though, he’s been on Earth for a few days checking on all of his businesses and stocks and his human personas. On the other hand, I hardly go back to Earth for more than a twelve hour shift here and there.”

“I understand.”

“Plus, I’m about two thousand years older than Jaemin, I have a lot of experience.”

“How old are you?” Two thousand years older than Jaemin would make Kun… pretty darn old.

Kun grinned. “I was around before and after Jesus came to Earth. I was around before the Terracotta Army was built. I was born in China circa when the Hanging Gardens of Babylon are said to have been built. Taeil-hyung turned me into a vampire when I was twenty five, and I’ve been twenty five ever since. None of us know when he was born. When you’re as old as he is, even with a vampire’s memory, history starts to blend together. He says he remembers the Pyramids at Giza going up, though, and that was after he had been a vampire for what he thinks was a few hundred years. He’s literally prehistoric.”

“Wow,” was all you could think to say. No wonder Taeil had so many artifacts. He was one. Kun was too, for that matter. And Jaemin… Jaemin would have been born AD, but how far into it? You asked Kun this question and he chuckled.

“Jaemin was born in fourteen forty two. He was twenty when Jeno turned him, and he’s still twenty, five hundred years later.”

“Who turned Taeil, then? I can hardly imagine a vampire older than him, even.”

“We’re not sure. Whoever it was is so unimaginably old now that even I can’t comprehend it. But whoever the original vampire was must have turned a whole lot of people. There are dozens more vampires just within our small community, and an entire plane full of them. From what I can tell, Taeil isn’t even the oldest. There’s this man who lives in the mountains by himself, and from what I hear, he hasn’t been seen by another vampire in nearly three thousand years. He’s almost a myth around here anymore. Taeil knew him back when Vahmpyr was sparsely populated, and he told us that the man - his name is Jinyoung Park - is older than him by so many years that he is to Taeil as Taeil is to me. He probably lived before Mesopotamia existed, even, or was right at the beginning of it. Before him, we have no idea who the first vampire was. If that vampire is still alive, he she or they hasn't been seen since, well, before living memory. If they still exist that would mean that vampires have been around since before modern humanity. I really wish we knew.”

“I wish you knew too,” you breathed. You had never really considered that immortality meant that the same vampires who existed before the Pyramids at Giza still lived among humanity today. It was mind boggling. The history in just their brains alone could fill thousands of textbooks and solve history’s greatest mysteries. But they couldn’t show themselves to the humans without risk. Even the people that they bit and sent back to Earth wouldn’t dare talk about their experiences, for fear of sounding crazy. Their gift to the world would never be wrapped up in gold tissue paper and presented with the proper awe, but here you were, in this modern metropolis of history. It truly hurt your brain to consider everything that came with that sort of age.

Just then a yell came from outside. “Kun-ge! Are you with Y/N?!” It sounded suspiciously like a panicked Yangyang. He never got panicked.

Kun stood up and hurried over to the front door, blurring in his hurry. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Well, uh, we may or may not have set Yuta’s house on fire…” Yangyang’s voice trailed off as Kun’s face reacted. First his eyebrows raised, then his mouth dropped open, and finally his eyes squeezed shut before reopening after a moment.

“You did what?”

Yangyang’s voice was small. “We set Yuta’s house on fire?” His voice was so high and squeaky that it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me, and Hyuck, and Taemin-hyung.”

“Oh my,” Kun said, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “I am going to murder Taemin-hyung.” He turned to Yangyang. “I might murder you and Donghyuck too.”

“We didn’t mean to,” Yangyang said. “It just happened.”

“You didn’t mean to set Yuta’s house on fire? How do you accidentally set someone’s house on fire?”

“You put on an impromptu fire show right next to the house, mess up a trick, and accidentally throw a flaming baton on their house. It was surprisingly easy. Anyway, I know that you would know what to do. You and Y/N both.”

Kun ran his hand through his hair again. You watched as a few light brown strands flew to the carpet with the force of it. “Y/N, do you have anything for flaming houses?”

You looked around your living room as though that would help you remember whether you did or not. “I think so, let me check my storage room,” you muttered, already dashing away. You did, in fact, have something that you loosely translated from the Egyptian spell scroll as “Fire Away Goop,” or something similar. It was a green, nearly transparent goop that sloshed in its bottle but it was too thick to really flow. It oozed more than anything. When it hit heat, it tended to solidify into a more solid green that would be easily removable from Yuta’s house, if said house was still there by the time you got to wherever it was. You grabbed the bottle and rushed back to the living room, panting. Kun turned to you.

“Is it okay if I carry you, to make sure we get there in time?”

“Won’t I be too heavy?”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “We’re literally the strongest things known to man. I’ll be fine.”

“Then sure. Let’s go save Yuta’s house!”

Kun carried you piggyback as fast as he could, your face tucked into his shoulder to avert most of the vertigo induced by such high speeds. Trees flashed by in browns and greens, and then you were going through the city, past the city, through more trees, in a rush that you couldn’t quite comprehend but which caused a sinking feeling to settle in your gut. Yuta’s house was far away. By the time you got there, the house was fully consumed by the flames, the fire burning merrily without knowledge that it was ruining a man’s home.

A man, presumably Yuta, stood out front, another man on his knees next to him. Once you were next to them, you realized that the standing man had the kneeling man’s ear in a tight grip. You figured that the man on his knees must have been the infamous Donghyuck.

“Yuta-hyung, Hyuck,” Kun greeted them as he set you on the ground.

“Yangyang,” said Yuta, turning around, “You’re a bit late.” He nodded at you and Kun in acknowledgement, as Donghyuck yelped at the tug on his ear. Yuta had black hair streaked through with neon green, and it framed a narrow face and startlingly pink lips. You wondered, in the back of your head, if he used lip tint. You also briefly entertained the idea that he contoured his face, because there was no way that he looked that good without makeup. He’s a vampire, your consciousness provided. All of them look that good.

“Sorry hyung,” Yangyang murmured. “We came as fast as we could!”

Kun stepped forward. “We brought Y/N, as you can see, and she has something to put the fire out.” Something like hope sparked in Yuta’s eyes as he looked over you again, taking in details of your appearance.

“Do you really? Well, go ahead.” He gestured to the house and the flames danced in your face, leaving you to hope that this gloop worked for fires this big. You took a deep breath and poured the goop onto the grass, where it oozed between the blades of grass like a big blob of snot on the lawn.

“Atlaq alnaar,” you murmured to it, and it rose into the air, following your mental directions toward the fire. The moment they made contact, the goop started to solidify and expand, covering the fire rapidly. Green overtook bright reds and oranges as you focused on the fire and made the goop cover it.

“Y/N!” Someone was calling to you, their voice out of focus as though you heard them from underwater. “You’ll get covered!” You were vaguely aware of a hand trying to lead you away, but the spell kept you rooted in place, your feet seemingly super glued to the lawn. You kept focus on the fire as the last flames were overtaken and put out. Yuta’s house was now a giant green blob. From what you could see through the jello-like goop, it had sustained a minimal amount of damage considering the amount of flames you had seen. You were so engrossed in the green substance that you missed the warning signs before it swallowed you up too, ever expanding.

It took your outstretched hands first, pulling you forward into it. Through your panic you had just enough brain power left to be amazed at how thick it was before your feet and legs were covered too, nearly encased in the goop. You leaned your head back as far as you could, trying to keep yourself in the open air, but the goop kept expanding. You felt more than saw the vampires try to dig you out, but while the spell still fueled it, the goop was surprisingly strong. A hand grasped your elbow as the goop grasped your neck and chin, keeping you completely still as it covered more of you. The hand let go. It couldn’t do anything now.

You took a deep breath just before the goop covered your mouth, nose, and eyes. You thought you felt something on the back of your neck but didn’t think much of it until it started burning. Any strength you had left crumbled as your eyes started stinging and your oxygen ran out. You couldn't see, but it felt as though the world was spinning around you, as though you had been disconnected from everything but the pain. Even through your lightheadedness the pain persisted. It had spread now, from your neck over your shoulders like the creeping vines on the back wall of Jaemin’s cottage.

Jaemin.

You realized through your hazy thoughts that you would never see him again. Your eyes and nose burned now, from tears you couldn’t cry and the pain slowly enveloping you.

You couldn’t hold on any longer.

Black.

☽༓☾

Across a forest and a small town, Jaemin was working on his Hindi pronunciation when Ten burst into his home for the second time in what seemed like a very short period. He wasn’t dripping this time, just looked thoroughly terrified of something.

“Jaemin! She needs help!”

“What? Who?” Jaemin stood up and walked over to his friend. Ten’s tentacles curled and uncurled repeatedly as he spoke.

“Y/N! The vision got sharper, which usually means it’s happening. The green blob wasn’t a tree, it was some sort of spell! She’s going to die if we don’t get there fast.”

“Where are we going?” Jaemin demanded as they ran through the trees around his cabin.

“Yuta’s house. Or, at least, where it used to be.”

“What happened to Yuta’s house?”

“Yangyang and Hyuck burned it down.”

“Ah.”

Ten was panting as he continued speaking. “I think that must be what the spell was for. Some sort of fire putter-outer.”

Jaemin tried to think back to all of the books he had given you, recalling a spell that sounded suspiciously like what Ten described. “If the one I think you’re talking about is the spell she used,” he told Ten, “we might not be able to save her by the time we get there.” A pang echoed through his chest. An empty feeling, as though your small human life had affected his own so strongly as to make him miss you without knowing that you were gone. Jaemin ran on, leaving Ten behind when he paused to rest, sprinting at his highest speed towards where you were.

When he arrived on Yuta’s plot, most of his vision turned green, not because things were actually green, but from the sheer size of the lime coloured stuff all over Yuta’s house. He had been correct when he guessed at which spell you had used. His gaze fell on Kun, Yangyang, Yuta, and Donghyuck, who stood at the still-expanding base of the blob, seemingly trying to get something out. He gasped. You were in the thing. He ran up and tried to help the others dig you out, to no avail. They couldn't do anything against the spell so long as you were alive, and he wasn’t about to kill the person he had worked so hard to protect. He tried to hold onto your elbow as it was swallowed, but was afraid of hurting you. They all watched as you took a deep breath and the gloop covered your face.

Jaemin slumped, out of ideas. There was no way to save you that he knew of. Then he thought back to Ten’s vision. He had to change you. It was the only way. You wouldn’t need to breathe, wouldn’t need to do anything. You could still be here with him. It was with that in mind that he lunged forward at the last moment and latched onto your neck, stretching his jar as wide as it would go. His fangs, already dripping uncomfortably with venom in your presence, sank into your veins, and he felt it as you stiffened slightly. You couldn’t move much in your current situation, but your muscles seized all the same. He stayed next to you as long as he could, until he was in danger of being swallowed into the goop as well. He licked the wounds closed as efficiently as possible and stepped back with the others to see what happened.

It was obvious that you had gone unconscious. The goop stopped moving so rapidly and seemed to pause in its conquest of the front yard. It started oozing slowly around again, creating something of a reverse muffin top as the top shell hardened and the bottom bits leaked out. They backed up to the edge of the yard and Jaemin used his (admittedly small) knowledge of spellcraft to create wards that would protect the house down the street and hopefully contain the goo. They watched in silence as the green kept expanding. Then Yangyang spoke.

“Will Y/N die?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jaemin slowly. “She shouldn’t, at any rate. I bit her.”

A collective tremor went around the group, as though none of them wanted to appear surprised but they all were.

“It was the only thing I could think of that gave Y/N a chance, so I had to try it,” Jaemin continued. “But Kun-hyung knows more than me on that subject.”

Kun looked pensive as he considered what Jaemin had said. “It should work, in theory. But between the wards always up around Y/N’s house, this spell, and the venom in his system, her body might now be able to take it. It’s just a game of chance, unless we can find some way to take some stress off of her body.”

They all looked to Jaemin again.

“Is there some way to break the wards that she has up?” Yuta asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin said, frowning. “Not without taxing her further. We definitely can’t affect this spell without killing her, and as far as the transformation goes, we’d need to be able to get to her body in there. That’s obviously not happening either.”

“So what can we do?” Donghyuck’s voice was small and he sounded almost repentant, as though he thought this whole thing was his fault. It sort of was, but it was odd to hear that tone from him.

“We ask Ten what he can see of the future and go from there,” Jaemin said. “There’s not much else that we can do, unless anyone knows someone better with spells than Y/N.”

The whole group shook their heads. Spells could be cast by any human variant creature that they knew of, but spellcraft was a human specialty. You in particular were gifted beyond what they had seen in a very long while.

While they thought about it, Ten burst forth from the trees down the street and ran towards their group. He slowed down as he took in the blob, now pressing against the wards that contained it. Jaemin could feel a subtle sort of pressure in his head as his spells kept the goop within Yuta’s plot.

“So?” Ten asked Jaemin as he walked up. “Did it work?”

“We’re not sure. She’s not dead, or the Fire Away spell would have gone small and liquidy again. On the other hand, none of us know any way to get her out, and Kun-hyung’s worried about the toll that all of this” - he waved his hands at the blob - “will kill her while he turns. We wanted to ask what you were seeing as of now.”

Ten closed his eyes, most of his tentacles going still as he focused. There was one that whacked anxiously against the dirt beneath him, beating a steady rhythm against the earth. After a few minutes, his eyes opened and he refocused his eyes on the group around him.

“Well?” Yangyang prompted when he didn’t speak. Ten sighed.

“Good news is that she’s probably not going to die.”

“And the bad news?”

“She might die.”

“What do you mean, Ten-hyung?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell which future is the one that will come true. It’s like there are two possible ways for the future to go, and neither of them is solid. Either she makes it through, or she dies. The worst part is that I can’t tell what causes her death. It could happen two seconds from now, or two hours, or two days. I just don’t know.”

“I don’t remember your visions ever having two outcomes,” Kun said, brows furrowed.

“I haven’t ever had one like this.”

“Well,” Jaemin said, “I’ll just stay here until she wakes up.”

“And where should I go?” asked Yuta. “Maybe nobody told you, but this is my house that just got burned down.” He threw a glare at Hyuck and Yangyang.

“Go stay with Mark-hyung or something. You sleep over with him all the time anyway,” Donghyuck suggested, and Yuta grinned, a complete change from two seconds before.

“He’ll hate that. See you guys later!” He skipped a few steps before running full tilt, phone in his hands and fingers tapping. The glow of the screen disappeared quickly from Jaemin’s view, and he turned back to their now-smaller group.

“Are you sure that you want to stay here until Y/N wakes up?” Kun asked Jaemin. “I know that you don’t need sleep or anything, but that seems like a waste of time.”

“I have eternity,” Jaemin told him. “I just need to be here to watch it deflate, whether it’s because she’s turned or because…” His voice went weak. He couldn't see you die. He just couldn’t. Kun patted him on the shoulder.

“Okay. We’ll come check on you tomorrow.” As he walked away with Yangyang and Donghyuck, Jaemin heard Kun’s ‘mom voice’ come out as he lectured on the dangers of playing with fire. It made Jaemin smile a little.

His head was starting to feel uncomfortable with the pressure of his wards, so he carefully widened them, centimeter by centimeter, until there was less gloop on them. He couldn’t keep this up until you completed the transformation, he knew, but it would work for now. Maybe he could call Kibum-hyung tomorrow for help.

Until then all he had to do was sit and wait, and look at your form encased in neo pearl champagne colored jello.

☽༓☾

It was exactly twenty five hours, forty minutes, and nine seconds since Jaemin had first settled in when the goop started deflating. The hard casing that had developed collapsed in on itself when the slightly softer insides began to shrink, reminding Jaemin slightly of Honey Lemon and her chemical reactions in Big Hero 6. He sprang to his feet, rushing forward to where he could see the outline of your body inside the collapsing bubble, grabbing the empty decanter that the goop had once been held in. He scooped up the small oozing goop that remained from the spell and plugged the decanter, turning around slowly to look at your body once more.

As your still-limp body collapsed to the ground, Jaemin felt his unbeating heart sink. You didn’t move, there was no rise and fall to your chest. There was no sound of your breath in the air. Your eyes didn’t roll around under your eyelids. You seemed… corpselike. Dead. But it couldn’t be. Ten had said that you would probably survive! Jaemin opened his phone and pressed Ten’s contact to call it. He answered on the third ring.

“Jaemin? What’s up?”

“Ten-hyung,” Jaemin said, and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Y/N… I think, is dead?”

Ten sucked in a breath, audible even through the phone. “Jaemin I’m so sorry-”

Jaemin cut him off. “Hyung, you said she would make it!”

“There was always that chance that she wouldn’t-”

“But you said-” Jaemin’s voice cracked again and he fell into silence. He couldn’t cry, and he had never wished he could until now. Tears might convey the hole in his chest, the emptiness of his existence without your life to partner him.

“Jaemin,” came Ten’s voice, and it was soft, delicate. “I’m so so sorry. I thought that she would make it, but there was always that second path. I can’t-” He took a deep breath. “I can’t see her anymore. I think… I think she might be gone.”

“No!” Jaemin exclaimed hotly. “She can’t be!”

“Jaemin-”

He hung up. Whatever Ten-hyung had to say wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t bring you back. He was along now, with your body and this stupid Flame Away Goop that had managed to take your life despite Ten’s prophecies and Jaemin’s best efforts. The person that you were was gone. Now you were just a still corpse, a painful reminder of what could have been and what should have been and what couldn’t be.

“I’ll give you a proper funeral,” Jaemin told your body as he lifted it into his arms gently. “I promise.”

For the next three days, Jaemin worked non-stop. He prepared a funeral for you, ignored everyone except to invite them to the event. He could still picture your smile, the way he had to support you those first few steps. He remembered how you had called him gorgeous, how you had said I love you in Gaelic to him without knowing what it meant. He recalled the trust you had for him despite his own occasional self-loathing, the way you had reminded him of his worth every time you were around him.

He missed you. He missed you a lot.

People had called him, came knocking once an hour. He eventually just shut off his phone so he didn’t have to hear their pleas for him to let them in. All of his hyungs and all of his noonas came to make sure he was okay, but would he ever be? There was a Y/N shaped hole in him that he didn’t think could ever be filled up again. Jeno came around three times a day with hug offerings, but Jaemin shut him out. He knew it hurt his friends, knew they only wanted to help, but you were gone and nobody understood. Nobody had loved you the way he had. Nobody had your blood quite literally on their hands, flowing through their veins.

It hurt to think about that. He “lived” while you were dead; he had gained life through your death and that was the most ironic thing. In his attempt to save you, he may have killed you.

He hurt.

On the fourth day since your death, Jaemin gently dressed your body in the best clothes he could find, brushed your hair, and put you in a casket, standing you in an open clearing, the one where he had tried to send you back to Earth. It was the largest clearing nearby, and all of the vampires that had met you plus Ten came to pay their respects. They spoke about the short time they had known you, and the strong impact you had made despite that. They told of how you had gone back to Earth and suffered until you had returned. They told of your feats practicing witchcraft and most of all they spoke of your kindness, the lack of repulsion towards them. They spoke of your kind smile and the way you had fit in so nicely with their community.

Jaemin started not-crying, as vampires did, and he thought he would be alone, but Jeno joined him. Lucas joined him. Jisung and Chenle joined him. Ten and Johnny joined him. He was not the only one who had loved you. Donghyuck joined him. Yangyang and Yuta and Kun joined him. He was not the only one who felt that your death was his fault.

Jaemin was not the only person who choked out their words in an imitation of crying. Jaemin was not the only person who missed you. Jaemin was not the only one who wanted you back. Jaemin was not the only one.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed his friends until they surrounded him in a huge hug. It wasn’t a warm hug, necessarily, but it was a hug nonetheless and made him feel better. He was not the only one.

He was still dealing with the hole in his chest, but he had others to patch himself up with now. Like each person who had known you could bring a part of you back through their memories of you. It was nice, almost.

☽༓☾

The first thing you realized was that you could hear again. Your ears were uncovered, and you vaguely registered words being choked out somewhere near you. It sounded like a large number of people were very sad about something. You wondered what it could be. The second thing you realized was that you were laying down on some sort of padded… thing. It felt like too much work to open your eyes, so you felt around and realized that you were in a padded box. A padded box? That was new.

You tried to sniff the air and were met with the smell of cologne, not too strong but apparently on enough people that it permeated the air. You got hints of perfume too, but it was far less strong. Something in the box shifted and you felt breaths on your face. Were people looking at you in your sleep? Come to think of it, why were these many people around you while you slept at all? That seemed sort of rude. You tried to remember getting here but came up blank. Your last memories were of the pain before you passed out. You shivered at the memory.

“She’s awake!” someone shouted. The noise hurt your ears after the deafening silence of your previous state, and you itched to get away from them. A murmur of sound rolled through the room and then a familiar scent invaded your senses, that of sun-warmed earth.

“Y- Y/N?” Jaemin asked hesitantly. “Can you hear me? Are you in there?”

He sounded absolutely wrecked, like his voice had been stripped of his usual honey and sunshine. You tried to open your eyes, but it was too bright and you just couldn’t, so you nodded slightly.

“Oh my- Y/N,” he continued. “Can’t you open your eyes for me, please?”

You shook your head no.

“Okay, that’s fine, sweetheart. Let me get you out of there.” There was the sound of something wooden being bonked against a wall, but that faded in comparison to the name. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

You were lifted gently from your padded box and carried somewhere shady and cold. It felt nice against your skin. He felt nice against your skin. He carried you gently, like you were made of glass, but you felt surprisingly strong, just out of sorts. As though while your mind struggled to catch up, your body had strengthened. It was a very different sensation to that of your first time waking up in Jaemin’s house. He walked you through what you thought must be the forest for a bit before he sat down and nestled you into his side. You felt as though some muscles should be unhappy about the position, but you felt completely comfortable.

“Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice came to you, soft and warm and familiar. It was shaking slightly. “Can you open your eyes for me now?”

You focused on your eyelids, raising them slowly until you could see Jaemin. He had on a suit; black jacket over a white shirt, accented by a thin black ribbon tied loosely around his neck. His pink hair fell neatly in waves over his forehead and you reached up to brush away a piece that had fallen over his eyes, smiling.

“Hey Jaem. What happened?” Your voice wasn’t weak, like you supposed it should have been. It came out like a melody into the air, and you marvelled internally at the sound of it, how smooth it was. It felt nice.

“You-” Jaemin broke off for a second, rearranging your limbs next to him. “You were trying to save Yuta’s house. We had to rebuild part, but it’s fine. He stayed with Mark for a few days. For the most part, your spell worked. But then, it- it swallowed you. I got there in time to watch as you were absorbed by this green goop and I thought I was too late. I bit you, back here.” He brushed his fingers gently over the sides of your neck and you shivered. “But you didn’t wake up… I thought I was too late. You weren’t breathing, and you weren’t awake… I have no idea how you managed to cancel the spell without waking up or dying. So I-” He made a choked up sound and tightened his arm around your shoulders. “We’re at your funeral. Ten couldn’t see your future anymore, so we thought you were dead…” He trailed off.

“Wow,” you said. “I died? Then how am I here now? I feel alive?”

“It worked. It must have. You don’t have a heartbeat, but you’re awake. I don’t know what happened exactly, but you must be a vampire now.”

“Huh. I thought I’d feel more… hungry.”

He laughed. It glittered over your ears and you smiled, an involuntary reaction to him. “It’ll kick in, don’t worry.”

“What about the others? I mean, Lucas and Kun and everyone? Are they just at my funeral right now? Without me?”

“Oh.” Jaemin looked as though he had forgotten about them. “I guess they are. Let’s go see them?”

“Let’s.”

☽༓☾

After that day, it didn’t take you long to realize that the other vampires were purposefully putting you with Jaemin for just about everything. On days where you went to hang out with Lucas, he would ask you how Jaemin was doing. If you didn’t know, he would suggest that you go and visit him. Kun asked you to make sure that Jaemin was feeling okay. Yuta, who you were finally allowed to meet and hang out with, constantly suggested that you should spend more time with him. It was strange. Nobody had seemed to mind that you had your own hobbies before your transformation, but now that you were a vampire, it was as though you were meant to be with Jaemin all of the time. You asked Lucas about it once you got sick of the mysterious treatment and he looked at you heavily.

“When you got trapped in that goopy stuff, Jaemin went all weird. He didn’t move for, like, more than 24 hours, and once he thought you were dead… he didn’t talk to any of us until the funeral. We worry about him, and you seem to make him really happy, so we’re trying to keep you two around each other.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you chose the very eloquent “oh,” as your response. Lucas chuckled.

“I know. It was really weird, I’ve never seen him like that. I think we’ve seen a lot of new sides of Jaemin since you came along.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s… well, I don’t think it’s bad or good. It just is. You affect him differently than anyone else we know.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“Y/N, you idiot, he’s in love with you.”

“He’s what?”

Lucas sighed. “He’s in love with you.”

“Why do you think that? This is Jaemin we’re talking about here. Jaemin. He’s, like, beauty incarnate and he’s smart and kind and wonderful in every aspect of everything. He just can’t be in love with me.”

“He’s in love with you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He can't be.”

“Why not?”

“I just told you why.”

Lucas sighed again, more deeply. “But you’re in love with him.”

“I-” You consider that. “I guess?”

“That wasn’t a question.” He rolled his eyes.

“Do you think it’s possible that he actually does like me back?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, after that, Lucas managed to steer the conversation onto other subjects and you refocused on those things, but it echoed in your head. He’s in love with you.

☽༓☾

Even with this new information bouncing around the forefront of your brain, you still had to go and spend time with Jaemin. Maybe it was a little strange for your thoughts to short circuit when you saw him, the little whisper of what if in your head. Maybe it was a little peculiar for a vampire such as yourself to stutter through sentences because you were busy thinking about what life would be like if he really did like you back. Maybe you spent less time talking on your walks together because you wanted to lay next to him in a clearing and watch the clouds instead. Just maybe.

If Jaemin noticed any of your strange behaviour, he didn’t call you out on it. He either really wasn’t paying all that much attention, or he knew enough about you to know that you wouldn’t want him to pry. It was strange, really, how well you knew each other in such a short time. You supposed that since you spent so much time together it wasn’t improbable, but he knew you nearly as well as your old human friends back home.

Thinking about your old memories was a strange experience. You could remember everything as clearly as your human self could, but you noticed more the lack of detail within the images, the way your human eyes couldn’t move as fast as your vampire ones, and your reflexes weren’t as fast, and the way you fixated on one part of the picture without taking in the details of the rest of your vision. You had entirely blocked out memories of driving, they were too harrowing. You recalled more easily now all of the times you had nearly hit something or someone, and while you couldn't die now, at least not that easily, you could have easily fallen prey to the fatal blind spot more times than you’d care to admit.

When you told Jaemin about that, he laughed that laugh you loved so much. “I was born in fourteen forty-two, Y/N. We didn’t have cars back then. The only thing on the street that would run me over was a horse-drawn carriage.”

“Well,” you retorted, “you should consider yourself lucky then. Carriages and horses don’t sound half so bad as giant hunks of metal flying at each other at eighty miles per hour.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he mused, stroking an imaginary beard. “Maybe I was lucky to be born in Korea during the 1400s. You may have heard of the emperor Sejong the Great? I was born during his rule. He was one of the best emperors Korea ever had, he introduced hangul and united the country under Confucian principles so that there was more love for the country and the people living in it. Peaceful few years we had there, from what little I remember. After that, though? Lots of killing, children on the throne, et cetera et cetera. Not so fun. And I was actually able to die through all of that, so that wasn’t pleasant. But then King Sejo, the one who did the killing, actually did a pretty okay job of ruling the country and we had a few more years of prosperity. He died six years after my transformation. I missed that event because I was here in Vahmpyr getting to know Jeno, who turned me.”

“How much of the group was around, at that point?”

“Well…” Jaemin closed his eyes briefly in thought. “Here, let me draw you a family tree.” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote ‘Moon Taeil’ at the top. “Okay so as you know, Taeil is here as the first of us. He turned Yuta-hyung, Kun-hyung, Johnny-hyung, and Taeyong-hyung.” He wrote in their names under Taeil’s, spacing them out across the paper.

“Yuta-hyung turned Sicheng-hyung and Shotaro; Kun-hyung turned Dejun-hyung and Lucas-hyung; Johnny-hyung turned Jungwoo-hyung and Mark, and Taeyongie-hyung turned Hyuck, Doyoung-hyung, and Jaehyun hyung.” He labeled all of these names, then drew more stems leading from Jaehyun, Lucas, and Dejun.

“Jaehyun-hyung turned Sungchan, Lucas-hyung turned Hendery-hyung and Yangyang, and Dejun-hyung turned Renjun.” He drew all of these connections and stemmed Renjun’s name down even farther.

“Renjun turned Jeno and Chenle, then Jeno turned me, and I turned Jisung and now you.” He finished the tree with a flourish, black ink stark against the creamy paper. They were all connected, in some way, to Taeil’s venom. And there was you, at the very bottom, your name small next to Jisung’s.

“You guys are all so… connected.”

“Yep! We’re all one big family.”

“Do you guys have, like, family reunions? And who changed Joy and her friends? Or what’s-his-face? Taemin?”

“We don’t really all get together a lot, just because most of us have jobs on Earth or spend our days doing stuff on our own. Some of them like having flings all the time. Obviously none of us can get STDs or get pregnant, so they can do that, no strings attached. We sort of hang out in our individual groups for the most part, and then hang out every once in a while. As far as the others, we think that they must have come from the same person as Taeil-hyung, a very very old vampire. There are other stories like ours across Vahmpyr, where one vampire created one member of each coven and let us grow from there. The difference is that some of them actually have good relationships with those older vampires, whereas I’ve never met ours. I’ve heard that there’s a man called Park Jae-sang who actually comes around to spend time with the vampires he’s changed. The closest we have to an old vampire is Leeteuk-hyung, and he isn’t really around much, plus he’s not that much older than Taeil-hyung.

“Anyway, to answer your question, when I was turned, nearly everyone was around already. Only Yangyang, Sungchan, Shotaro, Chenle, and Jisung are younger than me. And now you.”

“Wow, so you had to meet everyone right after your transformation? I bet that was chaotic.”

“It was, but it was also fun. I got to be the baby for a while. Then the others came around and I somehow became a mother figure.”

You laughed. Jaemin was a mother figure, for sure. He liked to take care of the people around him, including humans that his brothers had brought home for him to patch up. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

He giggled along with you, that laugh you adored so much, and grinned. “I guess it sort of fits me, doesn’t it? Mother Jaem.” He rolled the name over his tongue and you collapsed into laughter again. “I think that works well, yep.”

The next few days, you called him Mother Jaem, and everyone gave you weird looks, but it made Jaemin laugh hard enough that it was worth it.

☽༓☾

One day after this, Chenle pulled Jaemin aside to ask him what on Earth was going on with this whole “Mother Jaem” thing. Jaemin explained happily how it had come about. Chenle rolled his eyes dramatically.

“When are you two getting married?”

Jaemin just gave him a blank stare. “What?”

“It’s so disgusting how much you guys love each other! When can we shove you two together in a house and call it a day?”

“Um, okay, first of all, that is not how you get rid of somebody. Second, she doesn't love me? And third, there is definitely not enough space in her house for me, even if she did.”

Chenle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lucas was right, you guys are blind fools. Of course she loves you! She goes to see you all the time! And enjoys it! You’re both in love with each other and both of you are cowards.” He ran his hand through his hair, knocking a piece into his eye. He squinted unhappily but didn’t try to move it.

Jaemin sighed as he got the chunk of hair away from Chenle’s eye. “This is Y/N we’re talking about though! She might hate me for everything I put her through and only stick around because I turned her or something. Plus, she spends as much time with Lucas as with me.”

“My God, your logic is terrible. You love her, she loves you, you need to get together. Watch some dramas and kiss her in the rain or something. Lucas even told me that she loves you!”

“That’s astonishingly specific for someone who doesn’t have a romance under their belt.”

“That’s besides the point!” Chenle grabbed the sides of Jaemin’s face and held him still while he spoke. “You need to confess sometime or another before the rest of us go crazy watching you run in circles around each other.”

With that he stalked away, leaving Jaemin rubbing his face where Chenle’s fingertips had pressed into the skin. It didn’t hurt, but the echoes of his voice and his fingers held Jaemin still for a long time afterwards.

☽༓☾

The next week, Kun and Taeil invited the whole coven to a reunion at Kun’s country estate. Having never been, you looked forward to seeing the giant house as much as meeting the rest of the family. It didn’t disappoint, it was absolutely massive, at least four or five floors and extensive gardens in front. Kun gave you free run of the place, asking you to please not enter rooms marked with a “Do Not Enter” sign. Simple rule to follow. You entered the main hall first, feeling like royalty in such an elegant room. Twin staircases led from the upstairs, leading your eyes to an extravagant chandelier covered in hundreds of crystals, and a mint green ceiling. From either side of the large room extended hallways with lush pale blue rugs and endless vases on platforms. It felt as though you had entered the past, or maybe a very expensive movie set. You moved through hallways and rooms, gazing at velvet chairs and old paintings that screamed money. You wondered if someone in Vahmpyr painted them, or if they were from Earth. You found only two rooms marked “Do Not Enter,” one of which was in a long hallway of bedrooms, so you assumed it was Kun’s.

The other was in the back of a positively colossal library. The library caught your eye because of the sheer size of it. Rows upon rows of books lined the walls and seemingly endless freestanding shelves. It was as large as the main public library back home, taking up at least four average rooms worth of space per floor. Not to mention the height. You estimated that it was at least three floors high, perhaps four. An entire long wall was devoted to Kun’s studies in medicine, dating back to leeches and poultices on open wounds through Magnetic Resonance Imaging and the most advanced of current surgeries. He had records of patients stacked by century, and a desk that popped out of the wall to reveal his own notes on developing vaccines and other medicines. Had you still been human, you were certain that a room like this would have given you a headache, from the size and the amount of books to look at.

From the medicine section you moved to other sciences like forensics, geology (although that section was considerably smaller), and astronomy. You also discovered an entire section on aviation. In the astronomy section, you found cork boards with maps pinned to them, stars drawn in detail, space stations built for both humans and vampires, and more drawings you didn't know how to interpret. You pulled out a few books at random and flipped through them, smiling at the notes in the margins. Past those sections were books on every type of science you had ever heard of, and some you hadn’t.

Beyond those were histories, and Kun’s travel section. He had bins filled with brochures, maps, and travel magazines and accounts of, from what you could tell, every war known to have occurred past Kun’s turning. That blended into social studies, and you found books on language next to copies of the Bible in seemingly every version, translations of the Quran, and more religious texts. Stock market trends were recorded and stored next to books on how to hire smart and anthropology. Cultural studies were stored with ethics and political records. Newspapers appeared as well, although those were fewer than the books by far. They appeared to be from a singular area, a place called Taining County, in China. Kun must have some sort of tie to it. You made a mental note to ask him when you rejoined the others.

You climbed a staircase to the second floor, where you found a fireplace and sitting area within the books. It appeared that the entire second floor was books organized by language, starting each section with children’s books and working their way up to novels. You found all of the Romance Languages, German, Hindi, Greek, Tagalog, Russian, Dutch, Japanese, Cantonese, Thai, Korean, Arabic, Bengali, Telugu, Tamil, Urdu, Latin and more that you didn’t know. In the back was a small compilation of different countries’ sign languages, as well.

You climbed the next flight of stairs to the third floor, finding the fiction section. These were organized by genre, with horror on one shelf, science fiction hogging four shelves on the opposite walls, romance taking up a large section next to that, et cetera. You spotted a section marked “Transcribed” and walked over to it, finding books handwritten by Kun, presumably taken from other forms and written over to fit in his library. You imagined the wax tablets and stone slabs of old books and shuddered. Even as a vampire, transporting those wouldn’t be easy. This floor was open in the middle, looking down at the second. Above you, the next floor was open as well and housed more shelves.

You walked up the last staircase and came upon a musical archive. There were phonographs on tables next to more recent record turntables, followed by cassette players and CD players. Each one was in impeccable condition, and behind them were shelves of every format that would work with those machines. These were shorter shelves, since the music was thinner than books, but there were still many many of them. You saw cassette boxes labeled with the albums contained within, records in yellowed sleeves, and CDs in thick storage cases. They were organized by decade, with the earliest dating back to the late nineteenth century. You guessed that was when recorded music had been invented. Perhaps Kun could still remember older pieces though; something else you would have to ask him about. You were looking through the most recent music to see what he liked and if you had heard of it when you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“In the library, fourth floor!” you yelled back.

“Will you come back to the kitchen and help me with this?”

“Sure!”

You weren’t sure who was calling you, but it sounded like Lucas, so you ran towards the kitchen. You weren’t sure entirely why there was a kitchen, since you all drank blood anyway, but you figured there was a good reason. You added that to your growing list of things to ask Kun. You understood why you had a kitchen in your house since you had lived in it while you were still human, but Kun hadn’t been to Vahmpyr before he was turned as far as you knew. Besides, he usually lived in his apartment next to the other guys. Maybe it was just necessary to have a kitchen in a house, you didn’t know. It would have felt weird, you guessed, to live in a house without one.

When you arrived, Lucas was outside as you had guessed.

“Will you run in and grab these things for me?” he asked, handing you a sticky note. “I’ve been tasked with rounding up everyone else.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied, walking through the doors into the room. It was industrial, like Kun cooked for dozens of people at a time, and there was a surprising amount of cooking utensils that wouldn’t work on raw bodies, like spatulas. You looked down at the sticky note for the first time. If you don’t confess, it read, I will smack you when you come back out. And you know how big my hands are, I will make it hurt.

“What?” you murmured to yourself as Jaemin walked into the room.

“Oh hey Y/N, did Chenle send you?”

“No, Lucas did. But did Chenle perhaps give you a sticky note with things to get for him on it?”

Jaemin glanced down at a hot pink slip of paper in his hand. “Yeah.” He looked back up at you before his brow furrowed and he looked more thoroughly at the writing on it. He groaned. “I am going to kill Chenle.” He ran a hand through his cotton candy pink hair. “I guess I should just get it over with then.”

He walked closer to you, setting the sticky note on the counter as he came. “I’m kind of in love with you? And I have been for a while? I mean I get if you hate me after everything I put you through, but according to Chenle you like me back? And… yeah?”

You were left speechless. Hate Jaemin? Never. And he… loved… you?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jaemin waved a hand in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I’ll go, Chenle must have set up a prank.” He started walking away and you grabbed his wrist.

“Jaem, hold on. I’m just in shock. I thought there was no way you could like me back…” Your voice got steadily smaller until it trailed off at the end of your sentence as a whisper.

His entire face lit up like a Christmas tree plugged in for the first time, glowing and cheerful. “It’s not a prank?”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “No, it’s not a prank. I thought Lucas was kidding when he said you liked me back. Or at least that he was wrong. You- you’re actually telling me that you’re in love with me?”

“I am.”

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, a ringing sound in the quiet of the kitchen. It echoed back at you as though the happiness of the laugh had been multiplied. “They’re going to be so smug,” he muttered.

“Oh yes they are. We’re going to have to get back at them someday.”

“Well, we have forever,” he reminded you. You grinned and held out your hand. He took it.

“Let’s go get the teasing over with then.”

You walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. “What did Chenle threaten you with if you didn’t confess?” you asked.

“Oh, he was going to tell the group about the fling I had with Jeno when we were younger.”

You looked at him in shock. “You had a fling with Jeno? Why would you choose me over him?”

“It was just sexual attraction. While that works for some people, both of us were happier just being friends, so we ended it. I actually am in love with you, which makes all the difference. Anyway, Chenle got that story out of me on a dare once and has held it over my head ever since.”

“I wonder if he’s told Jeno he knows?”

“Probably.”

You had reached the front room, and you took a deep breath as you walked forward, though it did nothing for your undead body. “Let’s throw ourselves to the wolves.”

As you walked out into the sunlight, a cheer rose up that would have sent birds flapping away, had there been any. You heard Chenle’s unique laugh paired with Lucas’ happy shouts of “yes!” and the voices of the other men you had gotten to know, paired with ones you didn’t. They stood in a group in the garden, whooping and throwing up hats if they had any. Lucas was the first to reach you.

“I can’t believe you actually did it! I thought I’d have to smack you!” He sounded far too happy at the prospect for your liking.

The rest of the boys ran over. There was a repeating round of “finally” until someone mentioned the food getting warm and there was a great rush to get back to the patio in the garden. You sat next to Jaemin in patio chairs as the sun slowly sank past the tree line and talked with friends old and new.

There was something new, something warm inside of you. A feeling of belonging more than ever when Jaemin fed you a little and the rest of the guys booed jokingly. Under the rising stars you kissed him for the first time, a quick peck at the behest of Yangyang. There were more cheers and hugs and someone had a polaroid camera out, the flash lighting up the scene as everyone laughed.

This was where you were meant to be.

End.

!!reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!!

All rights reserved kiri-ah, 2021

[joannasteez]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x GradStudent!Reader

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Dedicated to my fav @appropriate-writers-name because she deserves>

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

Credits to the gif maker always @hvitserkk

Based on this post

Trying my hand at writing a headcanon... hopefully this isn’t long winded but if it is.... I don’t think that’s an issue right? The more EZ the better lol!

Also... thanks for 500 followers💋

☠︎

Nocturne No.1 in B Flat Minor rides on the air that flows around you like a whisper, the soft piano lead melody slipping over your ears in a delicate manner that calms the atmosphere of the room. It’s perfect music to write to.

But it doesn’t stop the cramping in your fingers, the ache dull because your muscles have gone numb and taut but you can’t stop writing, for God sakes as your mind runs and rambles you have to keep going or run the risk of losing your train of thought.

There are books and articles everywhere, scattered along the sheets in a manner that is dysfunctional to the point of perfection. The mess makes sense to you of course but it’s dysfunctional nevertheless, a tangible representation of the clutter your mind is in at the moment.

Whoever thought of Grad School as an idea can go to hell.

Who ever thought of 15 page papers can go to hell as well.

Just as the music breaks for a moment and a half, the intensity of the piano suspended for the tiniest second of eternity, and in that suspension of sound, your stomach grumbles obnoxiously. A ripple in your abdomen and a dryness on your tongue.

But what’s food when there’s work to be done right?

There’s a jangling sound at the door and for a second your fight or flight takes hold, reducing your flesh to goosebumps, your heart sinking at the possibility of someone attempting to break in..... and then you realize, if they have a key, then you’ve given it to them.

You know exactly who it is, heavy footed steps thumping against your floorboards.

“I gave you that key for emergencies”.

Ezekiel’s in the doorway of your room, a bag of something savory in his hands.

“It is an emergency if I haven’t seen or heard from you in three weeks”.

Your face scrunches, trying to recall where the time went... It hasn’t been that long has it? It couldn’t have been.

“Yes three weeks.... I counted”, he grumbles. Resting the food on your dresser and coming to the side of the bed.

He kisses you, lips chasing yours with a hunger that is unyielding, the build of his body nearly forcing yours to lay against the sheets, and it almost does, till a paper crinkles and you remember what you were doing. You push him away.

“I’m sorry baby but bad timing, I have to finish this”.

He huffs, neediness rising in him to such a point that it tingles all over his body. Not having you in ear or eye shot for three weeks was more torturous than he wanted to admit. He wanted to lay up under you, feel your kiss, hear your voice; the whispers, the whimpers, the moans, the laughs, the sweet rasp of it from the morning, the sultry form it took when he’d had you spread and ready for him, the sweet melody of it when you sang doing random things around the apartment. He just wanted to hear you, feel you, have your fingers delicately trace his chest in the relaxing way that you do at night. Fuck he missed you.

“You can’t take a break?”

Your eyes cut to him “No I can’t”.

“The papers probably not due till next month”, he accuses.

And he’s right, but your inspiration for this course hasn’t struck you the way it has now in months, all your thoughts and ideas need to be written now, and not burned to flames by the mood EZ is about stir up which you’ll no doubt fall into if you don’t put a stop to it before it starts. He’s got that way about him, it’s uncanny, but sneaky nonetheless.

He starts out with an innocent kiss to your lips, chasing and prying them open with his tongue, and in between these he’s whispering things that make you fall deeper into his little trap, that husky tone dripping into your ears and making your body pliant against the bed.

Something like, “I love your lips hermosa”, “they’re so soft”, “they feel so fucking good against mine”.

You moan in response, like a reflex, the functions of your body laden with the urge, the need to fulfill desire. Your mind can’t keep up and by the time it does he’s got you so far gone. Right where he wants you.

He’s a good trouble you can’t afford to indulge into right now.

EZ gets rid of his kutte and the t-shirt lying beneath.

Fuck! Ok maybe a little indulgence wouldn’t hurt.... right?

Your finger points at him in a way to warn him, “30 minutes, that’s it”.

“An hour”, he argues back. 30 min is BS and you it.

“Fine”.

He’s all cheesy now, rushing the papers and your laptop away neatly enough before he’s laying at your side, attacking your lips with a satisfied groan, the thick rugged feeling of his hands running over your thighs, purposely overwhelming himself with the feel of you to sate the teeming desire he feels but it isn’t working. He needs more. He’s lavishing your mouth with slick tongue kisses, those stocky fingers running warm strokes over the inside of your thighs, pinching and pulling the flesh as he nears the thin cover of your panties.

Three weeks out of action and away from him has you breathless, your body sensitive and fast to respond.

He’s at your ear now, tugging at the shell of it with sharp teeth. “I fucking missed you baby girl”.

You moan at the name, voice airy. “I missed you too”.

He’s got your legs wide in swift motions and with the pulling sensation of his eyes, he’s drawing you into him to be fully consumed. Your stuck in them, falling deeper and becoming less conscious of where you are. Anything that isn’t him no longer exist. You’re completely done for.

Has it been mentioned yet that Ezekiel is a tease?, a man with the ability to manipulate your nerve endings to such a degree that they are now permanently susceptible to his every whim? Well if not mentioned before, let this truth be known now as he demonstrates it, the loneness of his thumb giving your slick slit slow rubs once your underwear are out of the way. His lips twitching up to a sly grin as he watches you squirm.

He’ll deliver you to your release slowly first, present you to the highest peak of bliss with measured thrums of his thumb, the pad of it delivering lazy circles to the wet flesh of your clit. He’ll draw it out of you, root up those pretty, wispy sounds that he likes first because they make his heart swell with pride. Only he can have you like this, writhing against the sheets in delirium.

You roll your hips, desperate for friction, his eyes trialing to the slick pink of your opening. The lewd slip of his finger against you puts a sinful spark in his eye, tongue peaking out to wet his lip as he watches you drag your hips lazily. “Fuck that shit is pretty”, he groans, laying a little slap to you that has you gasping for air, your fingers rushing up under your shirt to pull at the hard peaks of your chest. When you respond with the deep grind of your hips he does it again, laying another teasing slap to your bundle nerves making you whimper. Your head falling against the pillows as your spine arches.

Your voice is ragged as it leaves. “Don’t tease Ezekiel, I can’t take it”.

His eyes go to your fast, and they’re dilated. Completely blown. “Yes you can. You take whatever I give you, you hear me?”

When you don’t answer right away, he gives your clit another slap, a little harder this time, and it has you answering in a quick succession of yes’s.

He delves a finger into you, curving the digit as it glides out, eyes peeled again to the way you’re taking in the tanned finger. The feel of you is constricting, desperate for him not to leave. When he reaches to add another you arch high off the bed, the hook of them reaching that deep place in you that makes the darkness behind your lids go all white and splotchy. He loves the response, he lives for it, for you. “That’s it mi amor, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight. My pretty girl is being so good for me yeah?”

“I’m always good for you”, you purr. Your hips grinding as he gives you hard hitting thrust.

He moans at your answer. Gearing up to add to your pleasure. “Can you take another finger mama? Can I give you another?”

You nearly sob. “Please”.

The fit is tight, a slight ache of pressure at the fullness but you’re floating now. Completely gone as he works you up to that blissful peak.

“Look at me”, he calls but you don’t hear him. Hips rolling on auto pilot.

With the idle hand he’s had laying at the side, he reaches to grab your face, placing a number of teasing and gentle wet kisses to your lips as those fingers stroke you deep. The juxtaposition is jarring to your body, something in your belly fluttering before it spreads through your skin.

You’re so close.

He’s holding your eyes with his again, giving your hairline soft sweet caresses as he stares into you deep, searching for your soul to claim as a personal possession and all the while those fingers are tormenting you with lewd thrust, the wetness of them making obscene noises that fly into the air, the impact of them causing tears to slip from your eyes to your cheeks. Your eyes are glassy as he fails to stop delivering you to that release, a new droplet falling when he guides his thumb back to that glistening nub.

“Oh my God”, you whimper. The knot in your belly threatening to burst.

As the tension builds the tears flow, your body overwhelmed to such an inexplicable degree, and all the while he maintains eye contact with you. Irrevocably enthralled in the way you’re responding to the things he’s doing to you. Your body loves him just as much as your heart does, responds to him just as much as your mind does. He’s got you delirious off his three fingers but you’ve got him wrapped around just one of yours.

“Come for me hermosa”, he rasped.

And you do, convulsing against the bed. His body beside yours, guiding you through the amazing mess of your release.

[agathaslittle]

Meet the Maximoff - Little!Reader x Agatha Harkness

Summary: Wanda shows up unexpectedly at the Harkness holsehold while you're in your headspace.

Requested by Anon: "Little!Reader x Agatha but Wanda meets the little!reader? Maybe a little jealousy from Aggie?"

Word Count: 1272

Trigger Warnings: Age Regress.

A/N: In my fanfics littles and bigs are known.

This was not expected. And it was definitely not planned.

Wanda almost never left her house, too focused on her husband to worry about the rest of the city. The only exception had been Dottie's reunion, but Agatha hadn't expected her to go out again anytime soon, at least until the talent show.

But clearly she was wrong, and quite unprepared.

The witch was preparing lunch when the doorbell rang, and like the good girl you were, you yelled from the living room "I'll answer it!" and immediately ran to the door, not giving her time to stop you.

She didn't want Wanda to know you, much less in your little state, as Agatha was afraid that the great power the other witch possessed might affect you. Also, you weren't very discerning when you were little and could let your real identities slip by accident.

But what was done was done, and in that moment there you were, opening the door for Wanda. At least Agatha had been careful enough to change your clothes to the 60s style that morning; you wore a collared and swirly dress, colorless, since everything in town was in black and white. It was clear that your style was childish, and Wanda quickly realized that.

"Hey there, what's your name, honey?" She asked in a soft tone, her head tilting to the side with a sweet smile.

"It's Y/N," you replied quietly, a little shy with the stranger's presence, "what's yours?"

Damn it, Y/N! Agatha thought as she heard the conversation from the kitchen, her blood turning to ice. You two had talked about your false names, but she already imagined that this conversation would not have reached the little you.

"My name is Wanda, I'm your neighbor to the right, your right," she pointed to the house next door.

It was time to intervene, so Agatha wiped her hands on her apron quickly, practically running into the living room.

"Hey, Wanda!" She smiled falsely, putting her arm around your waist and stepping to the side to let the witch enter, "I see you've already met my little one."

"Yes, she's adorable," Wanda nodded with a kind expression, walking through the door as you buried your face in Agatha's neck, feeling that she was tense, "but I don't remember you telling me about her."

"Oh, must've slipped out my mind to tell you, you know how it is, being a housewife can be tiring sometimes..." she lied naturally, getting a nod of understanding from the redhead, "but anyway, you need to something, dear?"

"Well I came because I want to ask for your help with one of Dottie's requests, her list is very confusing."

"Of course I can, but would you mind if I went into the kitchen for a few minutes? I have to take the pots off the stove and finish lunch."

"If you want I can help you with that," Wanda offered, but that was the last thing Agatha wanted. She needed to get you to another room and fast.

"No need to, sugar, I'll finish it faster than you can say lunch," Agatha giggled, "come with me, Y/N."

You were about to go, but the redhead stopped you both, "you can leave Y/N with me, I'll take care of her for you, I'm sure this cutie and I will get along well."

Agatha forced a smile again, knowing it would be suspicious to deny that request. She then sighed and pulled away from you, stroking your hair, "be nice to Wanda, alright?"

"Okay, mommy," you agreed, running to the living room rug and sitting there near where Wanda was on the couch.

Agatha glanced once more at the two of you before heading to the kitchen, the quicker she finished lunch, the quicker she would solve Wanda's problem and the witch would be gone. She wished she could use her magic to speed up the process but the brunette didn't want to risk being caught.

Still she remained calm, knowing that she would be able to see part of the living room and hear everything that happened from the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you took your stuffed bunny and hugged it, feeling a little embarrassed to be alone with Wanda, even more so when she, too, sat on the rug, looking at you.

"What's your little friend's name?" She pointed to her bunny.

"It's Scratchy Junior," you smiled, petting his fluffy head.

"Ah," she pursed her lips in approval and nodded her head, "just like Señor Scratchy?"

"Yeah, because he's a bunny too and looks like him..." you rambled in a baby-ish way.

"And what does Scratchy Junior like to do, honey?"

Honey? Agatha scoffed mentally, taking the pots off the stove. The pots were boiling, but no more than her blood while she heard Wanda interacting with you.

"He likes to jump around, like this, look," you held him in one hand and mimicked the bouncing of a rabbit all around you until you placed him in Wanda's lap, "and he likes you."

"Awww," Wanda cooed, stroking the stuffed animal with one hand and your hair with the other, "I like him too."

That. Was. It.

"Lunch is ready!" Agatha yelled from the kitchen, her tone a little louder than necessary.

Then Wanda got up, still holding the bunny and offering you her hand, which you held to get up and didn't let go until you reached the kitchen. You clearly liked Wanda, she looked nice.

But seeing you hand in hand with the witch infuriated Agatha, even though she couldn't show it. Instead, she served the plates as if nothing had happened, frowning a little as you sat down in the chair next to Wanda, "come sit at mommy's lap, baby."

And you didn't even question the sudden request, just happy to have lunch on your mommy's lap, and if Wanda noticed that Agnes was jealous, she didn't say anything about it. You barely paid attention to the boring subject about Dottie, enjoying Agatha's affections and Wanda's attention.

She had put your bunny on the table, pretending to feed him every now and then, making you laugh and bounce all over. Agatha had to hold on to keep her eyes from rolling in annoyance to seeing you getting along so well with Wanda.

When you all finished lunch, Wanda felt satisfied enough with Agnes help and finally decided to leave, but not before hugging you tight, promising that she would soon see you and Scratchy Junior again.

This time Agatha almost threw her entire plan out the window, wanting to blow up that little witch - little bitch - for her insolence.

As soon as the door closed behind Wanda, Agatha was already pulling you into her arms, "why did you say you like her baby?"

That made you shrug, "because I liked her."

"Do you like her more than me?" Agatha practically pouted.

You shook your head.

"Silly mommy, I like her but I only love you," you replied as it was obvious, because, well, it was obvious to you. Agatha, however, seemed delighted at your answer, pressing you even closer to her with a big smile.

She would never get tired of hearing those words come out of your lips.

When the news arrived the next day, Agatha wasn't truly surprised to learn that Wanda was pregnant, expecting a baby of her own, coincidentally after meeting you. Even though it smelt of chaos magic, the witch felt a little relieved, knowing that Wanda would no longer be focused on you.

After all, you were Agatha's baby and hers alone.