#significant eye trauma mention | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thisblogisaboutabook · 10 months ago

Text

Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Bonus Chapter/Part 2

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

#feyre #rhysand #azriel x pregnant mate #Azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel one shot #angst #sarah j maas #READ THE WARNINGS PLEASE #feysand #under the mountain #amarantha #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

2K notes · View notes

emmcfrxst · 2 months ago

Note

I’m wondering how Laura would react if reader and OldMan!Logan got into a fight? Maybe they tried to keep it away from her but unfortunately the girls too much like her father and ends up hearing most of it.

Ugh and imagine if she saw Logan storming off not realizing that he left you in tears…

(I’m feeling extremely angsty tonight.)

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, TRAUMA, ILLNESS, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS & GOD (I guess????) Set before Logan gets, as nonnie put it, chest-fucked, so during the period of time everyone’s trying to escape the fucking Reavers while figuring shit out. It got too long so it’s under the cut

You don’t argue that often with Logan— your relationship is solid and although communication was rocky at first, he’s made significant progress and is able to hold a serious conversation without immediately jumping back into his defense mechanisms (misguided anger, deflection and ultimately fleeing were his initial reactions when you tried establishing proper communication about feelings in the beginning). His progress, however, is rendered completely useless when the conversation is about his rapidly declining health; he’s immediately on the defensive, body going rigid and eyes going dark, jaw clenched so hard you’re afraid he might shatter it— he hates thinking about his newfound mortality, not necessarily because he’s afraid of death (it’s actually quite the opposite, he seeks death in a way, longing for the pain and the nightmares to just stop once and for all) but because he knows that dying means leaving you on your own and that’s something he can’t bear to think about— the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you is immeasurable; it overwhelms him entirely because he knows that losing him would break you and it makes him feel physically ill to think about the consequences. So in true Logan fashion, he blows you off whenever you bring up your concerns, stating that he’s fine, and the anger he feels at himself and his body for failing him ends up being taken out on you through biting words he regrets as soon as they slip from his tongue.

“I’m the one who’s fuckin’ dying, for Christ’s sake, quit your fuckin’ yapping.” It’s a phrase he regrets uttering for multiple reasons: he hates being rude to you in any way, shape or form because you’re the last person who deserves to be subjected to his emotional constipation— you’ve taken all of his broken parts into your hands and pieced them back together with your unconditional love and unwavering patience, you’ve made him feel loved, you’ve made him feel alive, and most importantly, you’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or bitter about his existence. You’ve done so much for him throughout the years and he fucking hates himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like that. The other thing that bothers him deeply about his reaction is the verbal acknowledgment of his condition; it’s something that he somehow believes can be ignored, as if denying it could make it any less real. Acknowledging that he’s dying makes bile rise up his throat— it’s a bitter feeling, really, because he used to wish for death everyday before he met you, heart and mind torn to shreds from years of horrific abuse and unwavering violence; he even prayed to whatever God was out there, despite not being a believer, to just let him go, to free him of the chains of trauma that bound his psyche. His prayers were left unanswered, Logan only accumulating more trauma as the years went by— he can’t count how many times he’s cursed God for making him go through what he’s gone through, needing someone to blame and wishing for a way to end it all. Ironically, Logan’s immortality only seems to waver once he starts treasuring life; it feels like a stab in the back, a cruel joke orchestrated by God who finally decided to answer his prayers now that he wishes he could take them back. The feeling of betrayal only seems to further fuel Logan’s anger towards his illness, which, combined with the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you alone, causes him to act out whenever you bring up the subject. You take offense in the words thrown at you, hurt by the reminder of his impending death and the way he navigates it, arguing back that you do this because you care about him, for fuck’s sake. Unfortunately, that only seems to make things worse, upsetting Logan further and bringing back years’ worth of feeling unworthy of your affections.

“That’s your fuckin’ problem bub. I told ya you shouldn’t waste your time with a man like me.” he physically winces as he utters those words, wishing he could unsee the way it makes your entire face crumble with despair— it’s a slap in the face, really, to be brought back to square one and have him reject you in this way. Logan flees before either of you can say anything else, slamming the front door behind him and walking in no particular direction until he feels like he can finally breathe again, leaving you in tears at home. Laura, although playing in her makeshift room at the time, hears the whole exchange as clear as day due to her enhanced senses, her fists clenching with rage when her ears pick up the sound of your stifled sobs. You feel her before you even hear her, your body tensing as a pair of small, skinny arms wrap around your middle, a head resting along your spine. After the initial alarm of feeling someone touching you, you can’t help but let out a watery laugh at just how easy it seemed for her to surprise you, turning around in Laura’s arms so you can look down at her. A frown is etched onto her features, lips puckered into an angry pout as she hugs you tighter, insulting Logan in spanish under her breath. It makes you laugh again, this time softly, your hand smoothing out her hair as you sniffle.

“I’m okay, Laura. I’m okay.” she glares up at you, unconvinced, giving you another squeeze and reluctantly allowing her features to relax when you gently run a fingertip across the furrow of her brows— despite not being together for long, you find that you’re able to soothe Laura quite easily; there is a connection between the two of you like you’ve never felt before, a bond that you feel like you were always destined to have. Your heart warms at the obvious way the child seems to care for you, wanting nothing more than to make all of her worries disappear.

“He made you cry.” her voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, a soft, indignant noise leaving her at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You sniffle again, free hand moving up to wipe at your eyes, the other caressing her hair lovingly.

“I know.” you don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— Logan crossed a line that you thought had been worn down ages ago, and you’ll be damned before you ever teach Laura that hurtful words can be brushed aside so easily without an apology. It’s for her as much as for you; you’re aware that you deserve respect even when Logan is upset, and you’re not about to stomp down on your self-worth to coddle him when he’s done something wrong. He’ll apologize, you’re sure of it, but until that happens, you’re not going to pretend that his reaction was acceptable. It’s something you categorically refuse to do, and it’s one of the many reasons Logan fell in love with you in the first place. You know your worth.

“I’ll be okay soon.” you tell her honestly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She studies you for a moment longer before nodding her head, allowing you to lead her onto the couch where she curls up next to you.

You’re asleep by the time Logan starts walking back towards the house but Laura hears the crunching of sand and gravel under his shoes, quietly untangling herself from you and moving to the side of the door, frown back on her features. Logan barely has the time to pass the threshold before she’s on him, jumping onto his back like a feral animal and punching his shoulders repeatedly, growling when he grabs her and holds her still, visibly confused and irritated by her behavior.

“Don’t even think about it.” he warns her when she makes to bite the hand that holds her down, frowning down at her just as hard she does up to him. She struggles in his hold, trying to hit him again, making him grunt in pain.

“You made her cry, coño.” the words make Logan freeze in his tracks, eyes falling on your sleeping form on the couch, noting the way your eyes look reddened and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Nausea immediately strikes him like lightning, the expression on his face seeming to satisfy Laura as she stops struggling, frown still evident on her face. She sits up and watches silently once he lets her go, staying nearby to see the situation unfold.

You awake to a calloused hand gently running over the plane of your cheekbone, eyes opening to meet Logan’s remorseful ones. He’s sitting on the ground next to the couch, looming over you in a way that makes you feel safe like no one else ever could.

“Hey.” his voice is hoarse but soft, thumb swiping back and forth over your skin in a silent act of comfort. It makes you smile despite your grogginess, and you feel more than you hear Logan releasing a soft, relieved inhale through his nose.

“Hey.” you answer him just as softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes again, content to feel him again.

“I’m sorry.” the words sound heavy coming out of his mouth, a grim expression taking over his features as he wipes off the remnants of your earlier tears.

“I know.” you reply simply, turning your head to press a gentle kiss against the roughened palm of his hand. It makes him exhale shakily, shoulders squaring as he prepares himself for the discomfort of the following words.

“Didn’t mean to snap at you, baby. I just… I feel helpless, I guess, and it fuckin’ pisses me off. Never had to worry about dying and leaving you alone before.” he says the words slowly, trying to make the last sentence sound like a joke, tone falling flat. You can tell he’s uncomfortable with the discussion but he pushes through, causing you to feel a rush of sympathy— he’s trying, you know he’s trying, and that means something to you.

“I know. I feel helpless, too. But you have to remember that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” he laughs wetly at your words, nodding his head and swallowing thickly before speaking again.

“I know.” this time it’s his turn to provide reassurance, the two little words more than enough for the both of you. The feeling of his warm lips connecting with your forehead makes your eyes flutter shut, hand coming up to lay over the one he’s curled around the back of your neck.

“Kid’s kicked my ass for making you cry.” he mumbles against your skin, the amusement in his voice clear. It makes you snort in surprise, unaware that Laura had intervened before you woke up.

“Did she? Well, you kinda deserved it.” your answer is playful, tone devoid of its previous heaviness, your eyes meeting Laura’s over Logan’s shoulder for a brief moment before focusing on your lover once again.

“That I did.” he agrees simply, a soft, tender, apologetic smile on his face. You lean further into him when he kisses your nose, heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

You were going to be okay.

#laura kinney x mom!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #logan howlett imagine #old man logan x reader #old man logan angst #old man logan imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine angst #wolverine imagine #xmen angst #xmen imagine #dad!logan howlett #dad!logan x daughter!laura #daughter!laura x dad!logan #dad!logan x laura kinney #laura kinney x dad!logan #anonymous #answered

438 notes · View notes

johannesviii · 4 months ago

Text

Nearly every time I've rewatched Infinity Train Book 3 since I first saw it in February, I saw more parallels and narrative echos, and infodumping my friends about them isn't enough anymore

I figured I should do a post about this one because I don't think I've seen a post about that specific thing yet, and I love this show's writing, and. idk. I just need to praise it I guess

So, the most obvious part first:

Grace became everything she hated about her parents

When Grace mentions her mother in the Debutante Ball Car, it's made pretty clear she's trying to distance herself from her mother as much as possible, and at this point, we realise retrospectively that Grace's room in the Mall Car in episode one was full of sports clothes - it seems she tries to avoid things reminding her of her life before the train. And of her mother. And yet-

She tries to control everyone and everything around her, and makes people do what she doesn't want to do

And she decides what's cool and what isn't

She makes people kneel in her presence, like her mother towers over her in her mind's eye

Obviously she constantly lies to get what she wants, and her dad does that in her tape

When her younger self looks up, she looks right through adult Grace, and it's actually her parents she's looking at! Her younger self is metaphorically seeing her parents where her adult self is standing!! I still can't get over this shot

Also I feel the need to mention her mother has the same voice actor as her in her tape and even if it might be to cut corners in the budget, that feels significant (and to be fair, sometimes you can cut corners while making meaningful choices at the same time)

Now you might think I'd have nothing to say about Simon on that matter, since we don't see any flashback of his life before the Train, and we know next to nothing about his parents. But I think it's very telling that the only actual backstory we get for him is his backstory with The Cat.

Because-

Simon became everything he hated about The Cat

Ok I never see anyone mentioning this, but hear me out

First, we have no idea if Simon knew The Cat was routinely invading people's privacy through their memory tapes, but he sure has no issue doing the exact same thing

But that doesn't stop there. He also collects things obsessively

And makes kids collect things for him as well, by the way

He thinks he's above others, but he immediately switches to victim mode when it comes back to bite him

HE. ABANDONS. A CHILD. WHO WAS UNDER HIS CARE!!

And. Uh. They both dig their heels instead of trying to change, too

Don't get me wrong, on some level I would have liked to know what Simon's parents were like too. I would have liked that a lot. But there's a good chance it wouldn't change anything, because everything we need to know about his background to understand why he's Like That™ is already in the show

But yeah, Grace and Simon both pretend they found freedom on the Train, and both distance themselves from parental figures who are at the source of their trauma, claiming they're different and better than them - and yet they are both subconsciously repeating patterns that caused at least part of their problems and/or trauma in the first place

And since they decided that making numbers go up was good, as long as they stick to that idea, they are bound to never escape from that self-perpetuating loop of harm and trauma

And I love it

And I hate it

#infinity train #grace monroe #simon laurent #samantha infinity train #this has been in my drafts since May

419 notes · View notes

strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

Text

August - Prologue

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: You look back on the way that you bonded with Spencer over the course of the time you've known him. After one night spent between you both, you tell the girls that you want to ask Spencer to Rossi's wedding. Too bad JJ had other plans.

Content/Warnings: Spoilers for 14x15, unrequited love, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, JJ is a horrible friend (I’m so sorry), general heartbreak.

WC: 2.4K

Navigation || August Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @sadroses98

Spencer’s love life was a trainwreck. Everyone knew that after the Maeve debacle, dating wasn’t something that he was concerned with. He saw the horrible things that could happen to significant others of the BAU members. Haley dying, Jack being targeted, and Savannah being shot were things he’d seen first hand and he wasn’t eager to have a loved one go through any of it. He’d never forgive himself.

JJ was always special, in his eyes. Even whenever they were both young on the field together, he always pined after her. She was beautiful, funny, and she didn’t always look so bothered to talk to him. Of course, their failed attempt at a date to the Redskins game was just an indication that he should admire from afar. Besides, he’d like to have her in his life regardless.

He maintained a healthy friendship with JJ over all fourteen years that he worked with the BAU, the woman being by his side even whenever he didn’t deserve it. It was something he wouldn’t trade for the world. He appreciated her, loving her so much that his heart swelled every time she came near him. He buried all those feelings deep in his heart, keeping quiet on the subject. It wasn’t the healthiest way to handle unspoken feelings but it was the easiest. Work would be awkward, plus she didn’t seem romantically interested. Best not to push.

Whenever you joined the BAU, you were blissfully unaware of Spencer’s feelings toward JJ, instead meeting a version of him that was so dedicated to bottling up those feelings. He was a bit standoffish with you at first, which you didn’t take personally. You’d heard of the endless trauma he’d been through and you felt like you had to work overtime to gain his trust.The problem was, you did damn near everything and it was like it wasn’t working.

You learned how he liked his coffee and brought him a cup every morning, you asked for facts about zany topics, you even mentioned Doctor Who in an effort to reach out to him. It was like he didn’t even want to look in your direction.

You managed to chip away at him over the next few months, getting him to laugh in certain circumstances or even having him greet you in the mornings. It was something that you had to work for but it was all worth it in the end whenever he’d gotten fully comfortable with you. He learned that he enjoyed talking to you, having you around.

The both of you had grown quite close to the point where every Friday that you weren’t on a case was spent having a movie night. He’d even taught you how to sew a scarf after too much trial and error. All the time you spent together was causing you to fall deeper in love with the lovable genius with each interaction. Every silly complaint about a show not being true to science, his rambles on topics that interested him, even when you two would get into arguments.

It was no surprise that you’d fallen so fast. You wore your heart on your sleeve, yearning for a deep connection that nobody else could take away. Spencer was your person, you could feel it. There were daydreams of having a nice home with a big backyard for your kids, Spencer teaching them magic tricks or helping them excel in their academics.

It was a Saturday night after a successful case that the team went out drinking together to celebrate. You may have let Penelope and Emily influence you into drinking your body weight in whatever liquor was put in front of you. Spencer hardly drank, however he allowed himself to have a few drinks, his tolerance being so low that he could feel a buzz after just one.

You were too far gone to remember the events of the night but you did know that you and Spencer left together. The night was spent with drunken sex and whatever else you two got up to within the span of seven hours. You both woke up the next morning and it was still okay. There was no sneaking out when someone was sleeping, no forcing them out. You two actually spent a good portion of the morning together. The only issue? You got more attached. It was like you associated the sex with mutual feelings, the dream of actually finding someone to settle with.

You’d gotten so caught up with the fantasy that you just had to tell the girls at work during one of your morning gossip sessions.

“I don’t know, I just feel like this could be the start of something great. I really do like him, he means the world to me. I just wish that I could say it.” You admitted, leaning against Penelope’s desk while sipping from your coffee mug.

“Well, I say just go for it! Our genius needs to settle down.” Penelope encouraged, her eyes widening with excitement. “You two can have babies! I don’t think we could ever have enough BAU babies.” She gushed.

JJ was laughing softly from her spot in the room at her friend’s excitement. “I mean, the worst he could really do is say no. No harm in trying to ask, right?” The blonde let her shoulders bounce. In a way, she could feel a pang of jealousy in her chest. You and Spencer? That didn’t seem right at all.

“He won’t say no! I am convinced he loves you! I mean, you always brighten his day.” Penelope was piling on encouragement, pushing you to take the bull by the horns and just get yourself out there, to put your feelings first.”Plus, you can invite him to Rossi’s wedding!”

It was safe to say that it was working. You felt a wave of confidence rush over you, taking it with stride. JJ had a point, Spencer wouldn’t be rude about turning you down. The pain would still be there in the event he did but at least he wouldn’t be cruel, right?

“I’m gonna go talk to him about it. It’s a paperwork day, so it’ll be quiet.” Plus, she could just delve into files that needed to be filed away if he did let her down gently. It was the perfect plan!

You were planning on talking to him later in the afternoon, just enough time to give yourself a pep talk. However, Emily and Penelope killed that idea with a snap of a finger as a case had come up. It came with the territory of your job – make plans and have them destroyed by some loser who decided to massacre multiple people for the fun of it.

***

The case had taken a turn for the worse whenever JJ and Spencer were hot on the unsub’s trail, being locked inside a bank with no way to contact the outside world. The only thing anyone had was shitty footage from the security camera inside with no audio to accompany it. All you could do was assume what was happening as you stared at the screen, Emily beside you as she was talking to Penelope about getting anything if they could.

Their body language said it all though, the way that JJ seemed tense and the way Spencer had a look of… Relief? You didn’t know what was happening in the slightest but it was like you could feel your stomach churn, your heart slowly cracking.

You didn’t want to assume it was anything too crazy, you didn’t need to worry. You were being silly. Once there were shots inside, everyone was rushing to the back door of the building to get inside. You were frozen in place, eyes focused on the room now filled with agents and cops.

The sound of everyone talking was muffled, your mind somewhere else as you were slowly turning to the screen before approaching the two agents when they were coming out of the building. “Are you two okay?!” She asked quickly, a shaky edge to her voice as she was bringing a hand to her face. “This job stresses me out,”

There was lighthearted, yet awkward laughter as you were eventually heading back to the SUVs.

There was a tension hanging in the air any time that Spencer and JJ were together, the two barely sharing glances as the rest of the team were rejoicing and ending the case and preventing losing innocent people as well as potentially losing two of their best agents.

There was something wrong but you weren’t going to say anything.

Clearly something personal happened in the moment they were forced to play along with whatever the unsub wanted from them. You were curious but you didn’t want to bring it up, maybe out of fear of hearing something that you don't wanna hear.

You didn’t ask Spencer to be your date to Dave’s wedding, instead going on your own.

The whole environment there made you sad. You were thrilled for Dave and Krystall but it was an atmosphere oozing with love while you were alone, the man you wanted to ask being weird and not speaking to you the way he usually did. There was a lot you wondered about.

Did you do something wrong? Was he angry at you? More questions echoed in your mind, feeling defeated on how such a good relationship has fizzled out to nothing.

You were brought out of your thoughts whenever Penelope was passing out whatever concoction of drink she came up with. “Here you go, sour puss.” The blonde spoke while placing the mixed drink in front of you at the bar, you offering a small smile in response.

“It’s a good day, don’t be sad in the corner all night.” Luke added soon after while you were waving it off. He didn’t know the extent of why you felt the way you did. He just knew that you had been in a funk for days, not being your usual self.

“I’m not sad. I’m just.. I’m not really in the mood.” It was honest, however you knew that you had to show up for Dave, he was family. You would’ve done the same for anyone else in the team for whatever event.

In the midst of your denial, your gaze had fallen on Spencer and JJ, the two talking together at a table farther from the rest of you. It could’ve been some deep, poorly concealed anger that had you putting the cup down and walking over to the two who seemed to be having a great time together. You were falling apart and it was like he wasn’t even paying attention. It stung.

“Spencer! JJ!” You announced your presence with a smile, your hands clasping together. “I didn’t get to come talk to you guys earlier. I wanted to say hi.” You began. “Also, why are you two isolated from the team?! Come on!”

What felt like a knife to your chest was the way Spencer looked at you with a lack of interest, almost as if your presence was bothersome. “Oh, we were just talking. We are fine, we will catch up later.” The male answered, hoping the answer was good enough to be left alone again.

That was the moment you broke.

“What the hell have I done to you? You’ve been dodging my calls and texts for days and you barely talk to me anymore. What is your deal?” In an attempt to not ruin the beautiful ceremony, you were keeping a calm demeanor. Even if you could feel the cracks in the facade.

“What? Nothing! You’re acting like a child. I’m just having a conversation.” Spencer frowned, his attention finally on you for the first time in days. “You act like we talk every minute of the day.”

“Because we normally do! Come on, Spencer. Just talk to me.” You were begging for a minute of his time, an explanation. For days you’d questioned every interaction and every word said. You thought your relationship was stronger than that.

“I am talking to you. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.”

JJ looked visibly uncomfortable with the whole interaction, so that’s whenever you were turning your attention to her. “And you, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days and you don’t give me the time of day. What is happening? Do you both have a problem with me?”

“Look-”

“No! She has a point, Spencer. I’ll be honest with her.” JJ finally found her voice, although the nervousness was gone now, instead just taking the situation for what it is. “I’m sorry,” The words made your knees weak.

You knew what was coming.

“The other day, the key to us getting out of there and preventing any injuries, I played truth or dare. Which, I know what you’re thinking but it wasn’t a childish game in the slightest.” She said slowly while you watched her in disbelief.

“Anyway, I was told to give a secret that I’d never tell anyone else. Something I’d take to the grave and-”

“You told Spencer that you loved him.” You finished, throat tight as you were restraining the urge to either sob or scream at the blonde. “It’s just funny that this all came out after I told you what I wanted to do. You never showed him the time of day before.”

“I don’t think you pay enough attention. Spencer has always been my best friend and we spend time together alone quite frequently. Just because you had sex one time doesn’t mean that you both were in an unspoken relationship.” JJ responded, having the audacity to act as if she didn’t break girl code to the highest degree.

There were a few moments of silence, every intrusive thought bouncing through your mind. Your gaze was briefly turning to David and Krystall, seeing the two happily talking with guests before you were tuning your head to the pair in front of you.

You reached over for the glass of water that one of them ended up putting down, hand clutching the glass before you made the wise decision of throwing water in their direction, the glass emptying on the both of them before the same glass was being placed down on the table.

Without a word, you turned on your heels so you could walk away from the two. The reception was over for you, no feeling of celebration. You leaving with tears brimming your eyes caught the attention of the small group of agents, the group now turning their heads briefly to look at Spencer and JJ.

“Oh no..” Penelope frowned, the normally bubbly blonde turning to Tara, Luke and Matt.

“Something tells me that JJ and Spencer are talking..”

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid series #criminal minds au

1K notes · View notes

lady-phasma · 7 months ago

Text

Martyrdom

The Vampire Armand x gn!reader

Warnings: not that many really, tragically over-dramatic comfort, implied canon trauma if you know a little about Armand’s history (book or series)

Summary: 1k words of 🥺 and comforting our beautiful monster.

a/n: so yeah, I had to work out some stuff between 2.07 and 2.08 because Armand needs some comfort. This is the most melodramatic thing I have ever written. This was going to be fem!reader but then it really wasn’t important to the comfort so it became gn!reader.

Armand didn’t stir as you walked in. His head was bowed, iPad balanced in one hand, tapping at the screen with the other. His dark curls framed his face. You knew he heard you, of course he did, but whatever was happening on his tablet was engrossing. You walked behind the sofa and rested your head on his shoulder. A glance at the screen showed you an online art auction. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss his neck, ear, and cheek. His singular focus wasn’t unusual but when you looked back at his iPad you saw the thumbnail and item description.

The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian - Marius de Romanus

You straightened up and let your hand linger on his shoulder for a moment. He wouldn’t move from that spot until he owned the painting.

When the bidding was closed he found you in the bedroom on your own iPad. You looked up as he walked in. The blank expression he wore was a familiar sight. He didn’t look sad or dejected as others might. Sometimes he simply didn’t emote. But his eyes would betray him. He didn’t make eye contact with you right away. However, he wouldn’t have come to you if he wanted to be alone.

He thought often, spoke less, about broken things, people he had loved. He rarely spoke of those who had broken him. Sometimes you caught a glimpse of him when he felt unobserved and the vacancy in his eyes would be filled with regret and remorse.

“You own a new painting?” You asked with no inflection. You closed the iPad’s cover and set it on the night stand as he sat on his side of the bed. His back was to you, shoulders stiff.

“Yes.”

“When will it arrive?” You didn’t really need to know, but wanted him to know you understood the significance.

“Approximately 4-6 weeks,” his tone was flat. “Possibly sooner.”

“When was the last time you saw it?”

“500 years ago, give or take.”

“‘Give or take?’” He couldn’t see your raised brows.

“492, I believe.” His shoulders slumped slightly.

“What’s the provenance?” You didn’t expect him to answer.

“Venice, Milan, Prague, a few years unaccounted for, then Berlin,” his tone had changed. Rather, there was now tone to his words. The mildest hint of pain colored the city names. It had changed so many hands. It wasn’t rare for a painting to have been sold before the fire. It was the nature of the painting and who you could assume may have commissioned it, that concerned you. Possibly it was for the Church, but more likely for a private patron. Even so, had it been in a church, a museum? Hundreds of eyes moved by the martyrdom of a real boy who they would never think about. Did they even think of the model for Sebastian at all or only of the saint and his ecstasy? If Armand had wanted you to know that a public institution had once held it he would have said. You didn’t press.

You watched him as he slipped off his shoes and turned to sit more comfortably. His long fingers toyed with the crease of his pant leg. He stared off, looking at nothing, for a moment. Then he turned to you. Your heart ached for him. It did from time to time when he would casually mention something from his past, but this was different. You had only seen an expression like this a couple times before. You looked at him, unsmiling, but with a soft gaze, no judgement. For a moment he looked as if he would speak then he closed his mouth, his lips forming a tight line.

Armand wanted to tell you about the nausea he felt, a peculiar feeling, increasingly rare at his age, when the alert had appeared on his phone. He wanted to tell you that he even had an alert for Marius’s name, but he couldn’t. He had never told you everything, there was far too much to tell. But he had told you the broad strokes. He felt he might never tell anyone all of the details, those he could remember, except in the rare moments of weakness when he was jealous of Louis’s and Lestat’s ability to reveal everything.

You sat up straighter and moved toward him. You gently touched his face. He leaned into your hand as you cupped his cheek. His brow furrowed slightly and he closed his eyes. You stroked his cheek with your thumb. You let your hand slide down to his neck. He sighed quietly and when he opened his eyes to look at you, he became every bit the ancient creature trapped in a young man’s body. Every wrong done, every hurt inflicted, every lie told, by him and to him, turbulent beneath his ageless façade. Over 500 years of mistakes, violence, atonement, none of it truly forgotten.

Your fingers gently caressed the back of his neck as you held his gaze. You couldn’t conceal the expression on your face, the compassion and disconsolation. Slowly you moved your hand to his shoulder and guided him toward you. Armand gave in. He rested his head in your lap, his body folded up alongside your outstretched legs. You leaned back against the pillows and headboard. One hand automatically began stroking his hair, smoothing it back from his face. The other lay against his back, making small circles with your fingers against his shoulder blade.

He felt his shoulders relax first, then the tightness in his chest began to fade. He hadn’t realized tears had started to well in his eyes until he closed them. None came, but he was unsure how long they would stay away this time. He sighed heavily and let himself soften against you. Your steady, consistent movements were a balm to the raging of conflicting emotions inside him. He would think of them another day, perhaps when the painting arrived. Now, in this moment, he could rest.

Note about the painting: The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian, Marco Basaiti (active 1496-1530 in Venice), located in Santa Maria della Salute, Venice

Masterlist

#armand x reader #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv #armand x gn!reader #the vampire armand #x gn reader #x gn!reader #armand de romanus #armand #iwtv fic #now I'm going to go watch episode 2.08 rip me #Armand fluff

570 notes · View notes

kcthelazyartist · 5 months ago

Text

Fiddauthor may be canon, let’s discuss

At first glance this relationship appears to be completely fanon, but when you dig into it there's actually a lot more to Stanford and Fiddleford’s relationship than meets the eye.

This is a compilation of evidence [And slight analysis] so if I have missed anything or if anything is wrong, please let me know.

Warning: Long post ahead

Setting

-As @ratsbanes mentions during Stanford and Fiddleford’s college years the aids crisis was going on, during this time there was a lot of misinformation and fear mongering as it was falsely thought that only queer men could be affected. This event is very significant in queer history and needs to be considered when looking at their relationship.

-Fiddleford came from a hog farm in Tennessee, a deeply religious state, and as he is told to be superstitious, crossing himself when walking over graves, it can be assumed he too is religious

Religions in the same circle as Christianity tend to hold homophobic views as was common during this time

This creates religious guilt for queer people

-Queer politics were becoming a hot topic and most of society was homophobic during this period, there is a chance it was still illegal to be queer whilst they were in college, depending on where they were

This led to a lot of violence against queer people and a very real fear of being outed as it could have dire consequences

There was even programs in the military dedicated to having ‘gay spies’ to act queer and attract gay men in the military so they could be punished or discharged

There was also the Vietnam war going on, causing political unrest and many protests, america being very unstable during this period

-Lavender marriages [Marriages between heterosexuals and homosexuals, often to conceal the latters sexuality] were still common

-Putting this altogether into Fiddleford’s character it could create a very real feeling of religious guilt and fear of being outed that could of led to him entering a lavender marriage instead of staying with Stanford. Fiddleford would have had to worry about violence against himself and his family’s view of him, which he would likely worry about as he has shown signs of anxiety [But this may just be because of trauma]

It appears Fiddleford and his wife got married quickly when he left college which makes it all the more suspicious, whilst it could be they were high school sweethearts or an out of wedlock situation, it is more likely it's his fear of being outed that led to such a quick decision. [I will talk for about him and Emma-May later]

-Stanford was also in a position not to pursue anything as it can be assumed Filbrick was not the best father due to him throwing a 17-year old Stanley onto the street with almost nothing, leaving him to the wolves after refusing to hear his side of the story, and not coming to Stanley’s funeral. Filbrick instead views Stanford as something to make him money with his talents which is why he's so angry at Stanley for ruining their chances.

This would put stress on Stanford as to not disappoint his father and be the perfect child and it can be assumed that Flibrick was homophobic as many were back then.

Deep bond

-They are close enough Stanford has a measuring system for Fiddleford’s restless legs, knee bounce per second, AKA KBPS

-Stanford knows Fiddleford’s favourite can of beans, and stocks them in the bunker

-Stanford calls Fiddleford his ‘friend’, ‘assistant’, ‘partner’, and ‘buddy’, putting him on the same level as himself, not putting him down until Bill manipulates him.

-Fiddleford could tell that something was wrong with Stanford, even the slightest movement when meditating clued him in as shown in one of the flashbacks.

This itself is further evidence of their bond as Stanford trusts him enough to let him into the worship room and meditates around him, which leaves Ford vulnerable to attacks

Even parallel Fiddleford knows this isn't his own, though that can be explained through an age difference.

-Fiddleford loves his banjos, having multiple collections of them such as the one in the Gideon Bot blueprint, but he uses them as a weapon to protect others, willing to break his most prized possession to help others. He does this twice for Stanford, once during Weirdmageddon and another time to save him directly from Krampus.

During this Krampus attack Fidds had just gotten back when he saved Stanford who was about to basically be murdered, all whilst Bill was nowhere to be found

-Fiddleford only really violates Stanford’s boundaries and trust after the memory gun and neglect of his mental health have come into the picture, he does this when he steals the book to create a thesis to try and help Ford, and when he used the memory gun on him [More on this later]

-Alex Hirsch refers to them as the kind of friends with the same kind of interests and humour

-After 30 years away there is a thought shown on the mind reading machine that just says ‘I’m sorry Fiddleford’, completely unprompted

-The ‘Sorry’ photo in general

-When they first met Ford saved Fiddleford from dropping out due to embarrassment

He stayed up 9 hours with a stranger to help him prove a theory

-Ford takes notice of Fiddleford’s reaction to the cubics cube and takes joy in messing with him, knowing he wont get angry at him

-Both recognize each other at weirdmageddon despite how long they have spent apart [Ford may have seen him in Dipper’s part of the journal, but Fidds, with brain damage, had no reason to recognize him]

-Despite disliking Fiddleford’s tobacco chewing habit Ford allows him to continue with it

-Fiddleford can read Stanley, who has similar mannerisms to Ford, like a book

This is after he has lost his memories, such as when he calls out Stan’s suspicious laughter

-When Fiddleford first arrives at Fords house he mentions being ‘overcome with emotion’ and is overjoyed to see him, going out of his way to buy him banjo strings and microchips

Despite having Bill he is very lonely and is very happy to see Fiddleford again, saying ‘the past few days have been the most energising I’ve had since I first came to this town!’

-Ford originally doesn't tell Fiddleford of Bill because he doesn't want Fiddleford to think he's insane or badly of him, as he knows his friend is superstitious

-Ford teaches Fiddleford to meditate to help with his anxiety

-Fiddleford chastises Ford for staying up too late and not getting enough sleep, to which Stanford is comfortable enough with him to make a retort

-Ford appears to look for Fiddleford after coming to his senses and is immediately remorseful

-Ford keeps comparing parallel Fiddleford to his own, showing how much he misses him

Obsessions

-Ford has an obsession with Bill and Work, worshipping both like gods

Despite this he takes time from work or Bill to spend with Fiddleford instead;

After the gremloblin incident Ford takes Fiddleford to a fair, he throws a christmas party for Fiddleford and when the shapeshifter attacks and ties up Fiddleford he immediately shuts all work he was doing with the shapeshifter down despite his obsession of learning about creatures [This could be because he nearly got his hands on the journals but he appears to have tried to get them before and this event was the catalyst]

-Fiddleford appears to be obsessed with Stanford and later the memory gun due to it

Fiddleford leaves his family very quickly to join someone he hasn't seen in over 6 years, which is the first sign, then he stays after being traumatised and put in near death situations.

This devotion is made obvious when he stays to help with the portal even after his thesis and ideas have been blown off and his safety ignored, only leaving after seeing the horrors beyond the portal. This leads into the memory gun.

Fiddleford creates this as a way to cope and be able to stay alongside Stanford and help him, because he starts using the memory gun instead of leaving this toxic situation after seeing the gremloblin he becomes addicted

The memory gun is symbolism for addiction and self-harm when it comes to Fiddleford, he is aware it might be doing damage later on but he cant stop using it, its implied he even used it after noticing he wasn't wearing a piece of clothing right, which may have been a side effect of the memory gun.

Unlike Stanford Fiddleford does not have anyone to help him realise how obsessed he is or stop him, so he only continues to spiral, making his anxiety and self-harm worse [His hair pulling is also self-harm, though less obvious]

His obsession with Stanford is what led to this sadly.

His obsessions lead to him stealing the book to create a thesis to try and help Ford, and using the memory gun on Stanford [He uses it on him for both unknown reasons and to stop him from remembering construction workers, as well as maybe witnessing him in the red cape using the gun on himself or others. Even then you have to remember Fiddleford had been using it on himself and was not in the right state of mind due to Ford’s neglect, as Fiddleford was repeatedly shown to be kind and have a big heart but as his mental state declined so did his morals] This is sad as it shows that Fiddleford knows its bad but is already showing signs of addiction when he first makes it.

This ultimately ends up with him breaking his own mind to a point where it scares and hurts BILL CIPHER, hurts him in a way he doesnt think is hilarious

Bill Cipher

-Both Bill and Fiddleford are obsessed with Stanford, though they go about it differently

Bill’s obsession destroys Stanford, Stanford’s obsession destroys Fiddleford and Fiddleford’s obsession destroys himself

Bill manipulates and guilt trips Ford into getting what he wants, often using flattery or a twisted form of it, feeding into Fords insecurities

Meanwhile at first Fiddleford is just doing whatever he can to help Stanford, only hurting him after the gremloblin incident that destroys his psyche

-Before Bill came along Ford admired Fiddleford for his ‘brilliant mind’, heart and trustworthiness, but Bill manipulated him into thinking lesser of those qualities of his, even then during the portal incident he calls Fiddleford ‘buddy’.

-Bill repeatedly tries to get rid of anything Fiddleford gets Ford

-Bill and Fiddleford have some similarities

For Stanford’s birthday Bill possessed a bunch of rats and used them to spell out his name [This is interesting due to both Ford and Bill having a tendency to mix up both love and fear, Ford not reacting properly to monsters when he should fear them but instead being fascinated], he then insists on taking Ford out for a drink, when Ford was not the most willing to [Contrasting to him willingly and even suggesting getting drunk with Fiddleford on Christmas after he saved him, drinking eggnog, despite not celebrating Christmas]

Meanwhile Fiddleford handmakes two gifts for Christmas for Ford, despite knowing Ford doesn't celebrate, which makes Ford very happy and makes him want to spend time with Fiddleford [Did Bill have this gift giving tradition beforehand or did he see a memory or dream of Fiddleford’s gift giving tendencies and copy it like he did with Ford’s love language of experiences? Or are they just that similar?]

Both are obsessed with Stanford; Bill using manipulation, flattery and guilt tripping to get what he wants from him, feeding into Ford’s insecurities and ego. Meanwhile Fiddleford is devoted to helping Stanford achieve his goals instead of his own like Bill is. Even when he uses the memory gun it's to help Stanford so he can continue working and so the construction workers can help the portal be built quicker.

Emma-May

-Emma-May and Fiddleford’s relationship appears to already be rocky when Ford calls him

Fiddleford is seen working out of the cluttered garage, instead of a building, this might show he isn't making much money which could cause strain as she would need to work more to help provide for her son

He is isolated from her in the garage and is seen playing his banjo in the garage instead of with his family around, he also appears to have made himself at home in the garage instead of inside his house

This could be seen as a mancave, which was often used by men who didn't love their wives and ‘needed time away from them’, this could be explained through Fiddleford just being neurodivergent though as he shows signs of being on the spectrum- and not every man with a mancave dislikes their wives

She was also rather quick to get divorced for the time when her husband is away getting money for them.

-There is also signs he might not have any romantic interest in Emma-May or women in general, and if he does it is far less than the feelings he has towards Stanford

He rather quickly leaves his wife to go after Stanford

He makes Stanford TWO Christmas gifts [One of which required 5 prototypes], but forgot to even buy her one [This could be because of the memory gun but as its not mentioned that he forgot to get his son anything it can be assumed he remembered his- and we know he loves Tate]

He makes a continued effort to get his son [and somewhat Stanford] back, the gobblewonker is implied to not be the only way he has tried to get Tate back as Tate seems very done with him, and Stanford and him reconnect as he easily forgives him despite everything. Yet he only seems to have tried to get his wife back once with the pterodactyl, the same amount of effort he gave his friend when he didn't come to his retirement party. In the end he isn't even shown trying to reconnect with her even in a friend or co-parent way after he’s regained his sanity.

The robot and raccoon wife can be explained through the same reason; Heteronormativity. In this context it could be seen as Fiddleford wanting to have a nuclear family and be ‘normal’ [AKA, not queer] or feeling pressured to, which might be why he married and had a child so young, seemingly right out of college. Raccoon wife and the robot could be seen as him trying to be ‘normal’ and disliking that its been taken from him, trying to get some semblance of his old life back.

Love language

-Someone on tumblr pointed out both Ford and Fiddleford’s love languages [I cannot find their post…]

-Ford’s love language is experiences

He invited Fiddleford to help him with portal in the first place

After the gremloblin incident Ford takes Fiddleford to a fair

The duo go hiking together to the spaceship

And the biggest one is the Christmas incident, he wants to spend time with Fiddleford after he gave him gifts but is unable to at the time and Bill tries to cheer him up with another experience… Only for Ford to be attacked by Krampus and saved by Fiddleford, he then decorates the portal room for a holiday he doesn't even celebrate and builds snowmen that resemble each other with him.

-Fiddleford’s love language is gift giving

He gives him a homemade snow globe [Which Ford accidentally breaks thanks to Bill]

He handmakes six-fingered gloves that required 5 prototypes [They later give Ford comfort]

He buys him a squash that looks like a face because it reminds him of Ford [Of which Ford wrote an entire page about before throwing out]

He gifts him an axolotl because it reminded him of his sideburns [Bill later manipulates him into getting rid of it after a lot of struggle from Ford]

Downright Suspicious

-When Fiddleford is called by Stanford he very quickly leaves his wife and son behind to travel to Gravity Falls and live alone with him in the woods without anyone living nearby for miles, somewhere nobody can see them work… Or interact

-Fiddleford designed the bunker with only one bed, one small bed for him and Ford to share

Several people have mentioned that they would have to be practically on top of eachother to fit on said bed

Fiddleford would not be aware that Stanford doesn't sleep, meaning they were planning on sleeping in the same bed together. This is furthered by the supplies for years into the future and having both of their belongings littered throughout the space, such as the shmez dispenser.

Stanford in the journal mentions losing Fiddleford’s shmez dispenser, this implies either he was moving stuff around or they were sharing it. And Fiddleford does not like people messing with his stuff, as shown with the cubics cube.

-In journal 3 at the end when Ford goes to see Fiddleford they sit by a furnace and Fiddleford plays on his banjo, Ford says he can practically see ‘the age lift off his face’.

A common thing in romance stories is thinking back on when the duo was younger together, this mimics that plot device.

-Ford draws Fiddleford more than once in journal 3

He usually only draws people once in the journal, but Fiddleford and his family get drawn more than once. This may mean he considers him as close as family

He also draws him from behind, obscuring his face as if Fiddleford doesnt know he is drawing him or if he feels guilty about doing so [Another common romance plot; drawing your crush without them knowing]

-Ford says Fiddleford has one of the biggest hearts he's ever seen, and says he used to hold him so dear

-Bill hates polyamory and calls Fiddleford a ‘third wheel’

Despite the Ford’s knowing each other longer

-Ford lets Fiddleford hug him during weirdmageddon and reciprocates despite disliking touch and only really being shown giving side hugs

Whether this is because he isnt used to Fiddleford full on hugging him or wasn't expecting to be forgiven and trusted so easily is up to debate, as the position leaves the back vulnerable to attack, showing how much Fiddleford trusts him.

They also shown in the ‘sorry’ photo in a side hug, hanging onto each other

-When Fiddleford brings up marriage Ford immediately shifts to him being thankful that Fiddleford is helping him.

-They stargazed together, one again a common romantic plot point

-In journal three there is a quote from when talking about the bunker's security system, ‘Sometimes I think how fortunate I am to be friends with F… because if this room is any indication, it would be terrifying to be his enemy’. This format is suspicious as the wording can make it seem joking, or make it seem like he is making an excuse for thinking this- and why would he feel weird for thinking this if there wasn't some sort of romantic undertones between them.

-In a livestream [‘Alex & Dana Charity Draw-A-Thon’ on TheMysteryofGF on youtube, at 45:48] When asked whether McGucket loves Ford, Alex says yes before expanding on that and calling them friends

At first I thought this was a way to get around Disney’s censors but later he confirms the deputy’s relationship

Story Importance

-Fiddleford is the only reason why Bill was able to be defeated

It took Ford around 30 years to build something able to destroy Bill, and it was a parallel Fiddleford that got him the final component to finish it, just looking at the weapon and knowing what it needed. Then the weapon that actually killed him was the memory gun, something that took Fiddleford under a year to create. [Maybe even in a couple of days whilst he wasn't in his right mind due to the gremloblin]

This combined with him and Ford's bond means Fiddleford is a real threat to Bill, as he keeps Ford grounded in reality and is smart enough to know something is wrong about what they are doing with the portal before anything happens, he even warns Ford, which makes him even more of a threat.

Bill attempts to manipulate Ford into distancing himself and thinking lowly of Fiddleford, and it works, for a period of time. It really shows how strong their bond is because while he is angry at Fiddleford leaving the event planted the seeds of doubt in his brain. Instead of continuing to trust Bill when he starts hearing things after years of being manipulated [Bill would even injure him! And Ford did not react like a person not being abused typically would in that situation], he realises Fiddleford was right and confronts Bill who likely realised that he could no longer manipulate him, as if he thought he could continue he would have, it would have been easier to reach his goal that way.

Fiddleford leaving is what caused Stanford to unravel as Fiddleford was the only one grounding him.

Stanford brushing off Fiddleford’s thesis and fears was the turning point as the ring the witch gave him turned black after this altercation

-Stanford has presumably been carrying the guilt of how he treated fiddleford for 30 years, this likely contributed to Stanford pushing others away and acting how he did towards his brother and family after leaving the portal, as he didn't have that someone that helped him trust others anymore, he's been alone for 30 years.

-Fiddleford was Ford’s first ever real friend outside his family

When he met Fiddleford he helped prove his theory and they finished it together and put both their names on it, this is important to the story as the reason Ford doesn't accept his thesis is because he is paranoid of somebody else stealing his theory. [Parallel Fiddleford and Ford even share a company together]

Furthering the previous point Ford was considering telling Fiddleford of his muse before finding out Fiddleford had created a thesis for him, a thesis where Fiddleford only credited Ford and based it off his work. Ford instead of taking this as Fiddleford wanting to help instead took it the wrong way due to his paranoia

Fiddleford didn't even notice Ford’s polydactyl when they first met and seems completely unbothered by it, basically brushing over it. Bill on the other hand makes a big deal of it, basically saying its why he can become one of Bill’s ‘freaks’, something he was called as a child.

Bill acts as if he is the only one to understand Ford and as if he is Ford’s first and only friend to manipulate him, despite Fiddleford understanding him so well he can tell something is wrong from the smallest movement when Mabel couldn't tell something was wrong with Dipper.

It takes Bill a long time to drive the duo apart and change Ford’s views of Fiddleford into ‘he wouldnt understand’ as he knows Fiddleford could ruin his plans [Bill had been with Ford since the 2nd journal and had time to manipulate him before Fiddleford arrived, even with this considered his view of his friend is still positive once he sees him again. He may say he has no choice but to ask for help before seeing Fiddleford, yet he is very very happy upon Fiddleford arriving- this hints that Bill has already started manipulating his views]

Ford wants to be famous and Bill feeds into his ego on this, knowing Ford wants to prove himself. Fiddleford can't seem to understand this as he already sees Ford as normal, but he wants him to be happy, which is why he helps because if money makes him happy so be it. Fiddleford does not question it and reserves judgement.

-Thank you to @jellied-beans in the comments for pointing out something I missed! That being without Fiddleford they would not have been able to get in and rescue Ford and all the other civilians.

Jellied-beans points out that Stan did not want to go through with the plan to rescue Ford, but it was Fiddleford who took the lead despite only recently regaining and reliving the trauma Ford had put him through, and even after he and Ford's last interaction was cruel.

Fiddleford is also the only reason the Shack-A-Tron became a thing, as it was his engineering and planning that saw it become a reality. Without him it would have taken much longer to rescue Ford and everyone else

This situation also goes to prove Fiddleford does in fact have a big heart and is empathetic as he not only rescues the man whos hurt him and easily forgives him, but Stan mentions that he led a bunch refugees to the shack with him.

End note; I attempted to keep in any points I have found and tried not to leave any information out, as well as leaving in anything nuanced [Such as the Christmas gift situation maybe being caused by the memory gun]. I find this important as I’ve seen people arguing against the ship and calling it generally toxic, whilst leaving out crucial details such as Bill's manipulation, as well as people calling Fiddleford a bad person due to the whole memory gun thing and completely ignoring why he did it.

[As a side note Fiddauthor definitely toxic during the Bill era, but overall it's not, and unlike Billford they are able to mend their relationship as its built on understanding and genuine feelings, as shown by the parallel world where they were able to trust each other and repair their relationship]

I have not read the Book of Bill yet so this might be updated later, any BoB content on this is just what I have seen circulating around.

#Who said being an autistic lit student was a bad thing?#btw this is not BillFord hate as long as the abuse isnt romanticed the ship is fine #same goes for the toxic moments of Fiddauthor #gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #gf stanford #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #gravity falls fiddleford #fiddauthor

389 notes · View notes

house-of-lovin · 2 years ago

Text

protect her

Tara Carpenter x Detective!Reader

masterlist

Preview: "Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle."

Warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of violence and mature language. slight scream vi spoilers. read at your own risk.

Note: Reader is around Sam's age, so like 25 or 26. Tara being a words of affirmation girlie. Thought this dynamic would be fun to write about. I'm incapable of writing shorter oneshots ig, so enjoy 6k+ words of whatever this is lol.

Word Count: 6.1k+

The honking of horns blowing through the cool night air was muffled when you pushed the glass door of the diner open. The chimes of the overhead bell rang alerting the room of your presence but barely anyone turned their heads – save for Sam Carpenter who smiled at you.

You shuddered away remnants of the chill air off your shoulders, stepping closer to the bartop; claiming your seat in the far corner pressed up against the wall. A mug is placed on the counter before you even finish hanging your jacket on the back of the chair.

You slide into the high-top seat as the brunette pours coffee into the mug with a carafe. “Still hot, wow, I must be special.”

“Yeah okay, hotshot. You just happened to make it in time for a new pot.” She rolls her eyes, and you hide your smirk behind the mug; taking a sip – ignoring the fact that you usually come in at this time.

“You on the clock?” She asks, leaning on her elbows atop the counter. She glances back briefly, making sure her snitch of a coworker wasn’t around to scold her for not doing her job.

It was still too early for the influx of drunk regulars and one-timers to come by, so really the only kinds of people in here were the ones who were getting off work too late to make dinner at home.

“Just got off, 16 hours. But got a new lead on a case that went cold a couple of months ago so I guess I’m doing a double. Just reviewing some notes now.” You sigh heavily, gesturing to the files and folders sprawled out on the table.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You work too much. You need to take a break and focus on something else outside of work. When was the last time you did something just for you?”

You roll your eyes at her mocking tone, shooting back, “Oh yeah? You learn that from therapy?”

It was her turn to glower when you remind her of the doctor visits.

“Yeah, that’s usually the advice therapists love to give me before I actually open up – you know like they tell me to and suddenly they’re running for the hills, one by one.”

You snort, all too familiar with the tales of her doctor visits. It took a while for Sam to open up to you; trust came sparsely these days for the Carpenter. It wasn’t until one of your frequent visits turned into you having to step in and kick a rowdy group of drunkards who were harassing Sam of something along the lines of ‘Woodsboro’ and ‘Ghostface’. It was only when you threatened the group with jail time did they relent.

Sam knew she could trust you after you sent her an acknowledging nod when the group left and went back to minding your own business. The next time you visited, she opened up; about her past, her father, her hallucinations, the attacks and the trauma that came afterward. And, how she managed to land herself in the big city, which sprouted an overzealous rant about her strained relationship with her sister.

You knew how to read people well, it was a significant part of your job to be able to. So, you knew from the moment you laid eyes on her that there was a fire behind those dark eyes that she desperately tried to douse – you had interrogated and dealt with enough people to know what the glint meant.

You were honest to Sam that you had an inkling of suspicion about the darkness in her mind – you still accepted her despite knowing her dirty secret; that a part of her doesn’t feel bad for killing Richie and Amber, if anything it felt kinda good. Sam was confused as to why you, a cop, weren't locking her behind bars at the confession.

But, having dealt with the scum of the Earth, you can tell she was nothing like them.

It isn’t always easy to differentiate people between just good and bad, you told her when she asked.

A friendship blossomed between you two after that, bonding over similar traumas. Sam invited you to her apartment to meet her friends and sister – who all interrogated you, Mindy, most especially to make sure you weren’t secretly Ghostface. The girl had some skills in that department, you'll admit.

Coming to learn of your career and how surprisingly well Sam trusted you, the group lowered their walls bit by bit. They would never say it out loud but they felt way safer having you around.

“That’s why I don’t go to therapy.” You shrug, taking a sip of the steaming coffee; letting the heat warm your bones.

She snorts, pretending to be wiping the countertop when her coworker peeks her head out to look at you two. “You probably need it more than anyone else in this place.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” You mumble, as you flip through the evidence photos of a homicide you investigated five months ago. The pictures were gruesome, but it was just another day on the job for you. Maybe that’s why you and Sam got along more than expected.

Sam’s phone vibrates from her back pocket and she fishes it out, reading the text.

‘We got into some trouble, some help?’ it was Anika, no doubt being appointed to text Sam because the others didn't want to do it themselves.

“Dammit.” Sam sighs, already taking off her apron to leave.

“What’s up?” You raise a brow at her panicked expression.

“My sister and her friends got into some trouble. I need to get them. Crap! They’re all the way in the East Village.” She says reading the other incoming texts on her phone. “This is what I get for letting her go out.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you.” You say, already standing when Sam mentioned Tara. The thought of the brunette in trouble makes your heart stop for a moment.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re working.” She shakes her head in protest.

“Carpenter, it’s a 30-minute drive just to get to the East Village, get your ass permission to leave then meet me at my car. Acting like Danny wouldn’t have my ass if I just left you like this.” You mutter, acting indifferent – but it was true, her boyfriend would have your head on a stick if you ever left Sam high and dry, not that you would ever.

She nods, knowing she won’t win this one with you. You throw a $20 tip, slip on your jacket, and make your way back out into the cool fall air.

You lit a cigarette to pass time as you wait for Sam – leaning against your car, trying to ease the nervousness raging in you as you think of what kind of trouble Tara found herself in.

You and Tara are... complicated. You two haven't exactly slapped a label on it, all you know is you care about her more than you probably should.

Because of your close connection with Sam, and how much everyone secretly trusted you. You and Tara found yourselves growing closer to each other with each visit to their apartment.

Tara was weary about you at first introduction, ignoring that you were ridiculously attractive. She can still remember Mindy asking you to your face 'Where did Sam find you?' in a flirtatious tone. You just chuckled and explained how you met her sister, and Tara knew it was kind of wrong, but she couldn't help but be intrigued…

Then Sam started leaving you two alone in the apartment to run some errands. With not much to do, Tara decided to pop a horror movie in to watch with you – finding out you’ve never seen ‘Se7en’ after inquiring if your job was just like the movies.

A connection between you and Tara blossomed from those moments in that tiny NYC living room.

Suddenly she wasn't just your friend's little sister and man, is she magnetic.

She educates you on the joys of horror movies and you watch every single one, listening to her analysis of each scene; simply enjoying the serenity she brings out in you.

Tara is secretly glad you are older than her because sometimes it meant you’re so different, but that just means she can expose you to her interests, and vice versa. You never turned her down – no matter what it was.

On the slim chance you got off work early enough, you visited the diner to keep Sam company and do some work.

Sometimes though, when Sam would end mid-morning, you two would continue your talks at her apartment – sometimes with Danny, over whatever leftover diner food she would steal from her work for you three to munch on over beers and conversation.

Those would be the nights where you would pass out on their couch from drinking and Tara would finally come out of her room when Sam and Danny leave. She would tuck a blanket over your sleeping figure, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, taking the time to scan your features for any injuries. And in the mornings, when you were gathering your bearings from a night of drinks and bad choices, Tara would force you to sit down at their dining table and have breakfast with her. Scolding you for your irresponsible choices, but being grateful you were in front of her, nonetheless.

She worries for you with your job and all.

And as you find yourself giving into her request for morning coffee, stolen kisses, and conversation – you push away thoughts of being late to work as you find yourself grateful for similar musings the longer you stare at the pretty girl across from you.

“Wow, if people couldn’t tell you're a narc. They sure could now.” Sam takes the time to poke fun at you – pulling you out of your daydream. You look down at your figure; sporting a button-down shirt, trousers with your leather jacket on top and trusty leather boots on your feet.

You roll your eyes in realization and flick away the cigarette bud, yanking the car door open.

“It’s the work dress cod– just get in the damn car, Carpenter.”

– –

The usual thirty-minute drive instead took fifteen minutes as you pounded on the accelerator, flipped the sirens on, and dashed past other cars on the road as they cleared the way for you.

You arrive at the corner of a lower Manhattan intersection, the East Village was known for its bustling nightlife; you can see a mix of all ages of people wandering the street as they continue their bar crawl.

It was further down the road, where you can see six sullen-looking figures sitting on the curb of the sidewalk – a police officer standing above them.

Sam dashes out of the car before you can even finish parking. You see her run down the street and talk to the officer, getting in his face and the six others look at her panicked. You sigh, and make your way out of the car, strapping your badge to your belt – you’d need to use it soon, you’re sure.

Tara’s eyes immediately connect to you as soon as you climb out of the car. Before she can think about it, she’s standing up to meet you. “Ah ah, I said sit down! You better listen or I’ll throw you all in jail for the night.”

“You can’t do that!” Sam shouts, stepping closer to the police officer. You decided enough was enough when you saw the police officer resting his hand on his holster.

“All right, that’s enough.” You grasp Sam’s elbow, yanking her away from the police officer. The older Carpenter is slightly startled by the rough tug, but you push her behind you getting in between her and the policeman.

“I think we’re all good here officer, thank you.” You say with finality. You weren’t asking, you were telling and Tara’s inebriated mind is all hot and bothered.

“Like hell we are, these six were caught sneaking into a club underage, and this one.” He points to Sam, “is getting on my nerves. Now, it seems like I can add you to the list, ‘cause who the hell you think you are, buddy?”

You briefly glance a stern side-eye to Tara at ‘club and underage’, she immediately looks away.

“Detective Y/L/N from the 99th precinct.” You slide your jacket aside to flash him the badge on your waist.

”And, you must be… Officer Leroy. From 6th, huh.” Reading his name tag and badge.

“Think that’s supposed to mean something?” You see his eyes on your badge before glowering to meet your eyes. “I’ll arrest you too.”

The group breaks out into loud protests.

You chuckle knowingly, “How long you been in the force buddy?” You ask, not unaware of all of the eyes on you as you and the officer have a stare-off.

“Four months.” He answers confidently, pushing his shoulders up and back to appear taller.

“Hmm… see I had a feeling. ‘Cause, my buddy Rivers just got promoted to Captain six months ago over on the 6th precinct, which means he’s most likely your superior. I wonder what you’ll tell him as to what charge you picked us up for. ‘Cause well, he will see me.” You shrug, offering up that thought for him to think about.

“Oh better yet, I’d just love to see what you write down on that case report, Officer. Leroy.” Your tone was harsh now as you stepped in his face, intimidating him.

He was forced to take a step back as you got in his space, his features paling, it took a few seconds before he conceded. “Fine! Just get the hell out of here, and don’t let me see you again!”

Everyone let out a relieved sigh as you smirked at his submission; everyone immediately takes the chance to leave and Sam tries to tug on your arm but you were still staring the cop down. He put this hand on his fucking gun when Sam got in his face and anger was quickly rising in your veins – you were unmovable, even by rough force.

“Y/N it’s over, let’s go.” Sam tries again but she can feel your arm harden as your knuckles tighten into a fist. “Y/N, seriously.”

Tara sobered up by the time police charges was being thrown around and her worry about your protectiveness was increasing. Sam couldn’t even pull you away. Chad steps in when Sam asks for help to convince you to move. He puts a hand on your shoulder, whispering calming words, no doubt.

But nothing was working as you stood there, still unmovable. She wouldn’t be surprised if Chad threw you over his shoulder and dragged you away, even though you weren’t that much smaller than him. In your boots, you were nearly at his height and Tara had to strain her neck to try and meet your eyes.

It was only when Tara pulled away from Quinn and Mindy’s hold and stepped in front of you, putting a hand just above your chest that you blinked, glancing down at her. “Y/N, let’s go… please.”

When you tried to glance back up at the other officer, whose partner had seen the commotion and tried his own efforts in calming him; his patience thinning by the second – was when Tara’s grasp on your shirt firmed, making you look back at her own stern eyes.

"Let's. Go." Her tone left no room for argument. Warning you from doing something stupid and you clench your jaw, looking away from the uniformed officers.

“Fine…"

Everyone slowly releases a breath when your rigid posture relaxes. “I’m driving you home, let’s go.” You exclaim to the rest but look directly at Tara, “Especially you, Carpenter.”

You place a hand on the sliver of her back and Tara shivers not used to being this close to you in a while. Your hand keeps its place even as you both turn and Sam is immediately on her ass about sneaking into a club. You guide the bickering sisters to walk to the car, zoning out the familiar sounds of their argument.

“–ou’re lucky Y/N was at the diner, who knows what that creep would’ve done if we didn’t drive out here in time.” Your hand tightens, subtly bringing her closer to your side at Sam’s words, Tara glances over when you do.

“It was fine until you got there and started overreacting, Sam.” Tara rolls her eyes, way past just ‘over’ Sam’s overprotectiveness. The younger girl loved her sister, she did, but she didn’t want to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder.

Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle.

Sam scoffed offended, “Are you kidding me right now?” And you sigh because you can feel a bigger fight brewing and you can hear the slurring in Tara’s words, not a good mix.

“Let’s get you all home first before we do this, okay?” You cut in when you see the car come closer into view. Fishing for your keys, you throw them at Sam making her catch them.

“Walk ahead and start the car for me, please?” You ask with a raised brow; tilting your head to gesture to Tara saying a wordless ‘i got her’. Sam relents, tightly gripping the keys and walked ahead.

Tara leans her head against your shoulder, grateful for the brief moment of seclusion as everyone else walks up ahead.

“Are you mad at me?” You glance down at her frown, before looking away.

“No. I’m not.”

“That wasn’t very convincing. If you’re mad you can tell me… cause then I can fix it.” You feel her run her hand up and down your back, under your jacket. It made a shiver run up your spine as she continued rubbing lines on the fabric of your shirt.

“I swear, I’m not mad. A little disappointed but no, not mad.”

Tara huffs, sliding her arm off your back when you reach the car; the talk cut short. You open the car door sitting Tara inside, it was a tight squeeze but she was small. You’d sit her on your lap if her sister wasn't here. Anika did sit on Mindy’s lap though with poor Chad in the middle seat and then Tara.

She squeezes your hand just before you shut the door.

Apparently, Ethan and Quinn elected not to go home and continue on with their night.

Sam is already sitting in the passenger seat by the time you closed Tara’s door. With a sigh, you pull your door open, sit behind the wheel and drive off to the Carpenter’s apartment.

– –

Sam hurriedly rushes everyone into the living room as soon she opens the door; making sure to quadruple lock it, twist the handle to make sure it's locked and look out the peephole. It was Sam’s routine whenever she got into their place.

“Come on, let’s go, sit down.” Sam waves at you all, walking to the kitchen to grab water for everyone.

You help Tara onto the far edge of the couch, sitting her beside Mindy, who sat beside Anika. Chad decided to choose a record to listen to get rid of the tense air.

You felt Tara pulling you down with her, “Let me sit on your lap.” She mutters only to you.

“We can’t,” You whisper in her ear, slightly shaking your head. You hear her huff when you refuse her and see the pout on her lips when you pulled back, slightly smiling at her adorableness.

You force yourself to walk away from the younger Carpenter; heart tugging firmly, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in your arms, especially after not knowing what kind of trouble she was in.

Instead, you make your way into the kitchen to help Sam with the water bottles and bread.

“Is this necessary, Sam?” You ask the brunette, who was frantically searching through the fridge on her knees.

“You kidding? Chad is literally just staring holes at the record player.” She rebuttals and you glance back at the younger boy in amusement.

With a chuckle, you say, “He’s just high as shit. He’ll come down soon, plus he’s here now, they all are. Just relax and take a deep breath, man.” You remind her in a serious tone, holding out a hand to hold all the water bottles she was passing off to you.

“I know, I know. I was just worried.” She follows your advice taking calming, deep breaths as you follow along with her.

“Your therapist would be so proud, Samantha.” You tease smugly as she scoffs, hitting your leg from her position on the floor – you kick her back.

“Can you make sure Tara drinks and eats something, and that she’s okay before going to bed?” Sam asks you in a hushed tone, although she didn’t need to. The other four were all too engrossed either in the music or the TV in the back.

“Why me?”

“She’s not ready to talk to me and I’m not either... and I just wanna sleep right now.” She admits with a plead behind her eyes and you nod with no hesitation.

“I'll make sure all of them make it to bed, don’t worry.” She nods appreciatively, then stands so you can both get back to the other four in the living room – tossing them some bread.

“Finish that whole bottle before going to sleep, I don’t care if you piss your pants while you do ‘em.” You say in a stern tone while throwing the bottles, then sitting on the armchair to Tara’s left.

Sam shares a look with you as she slips out of the room, wordlessly, leaving you with the other four. They watched TV for the next 20 minutes, glancing around as each of them got progressively tired the more time ticked on.

“Alright. I think it’s time to call it a night.” You call it.

The twins and Anika slowly got up, muttering goodbyes and promises of texting Tara once they’d made it home. You offered to drive them to their dorm but felt the silent conversation between the friends – as Tara got them to turn you down to get you to stay here with her.

You lean against the front door, watching as the trio made their way down the stairs until they were out of sight. As soon as you shut the door closed, you felt arms wrap around your midsection – making you turn around.

“I missed you,” Tara mutters against your chest making you chuckle when it slightly tickled.

You cup her jaw, making her look into your eyes. “I missed you too, baby.”

Tara melts at the term of endearment, grabbing your neck to pull you down for a long searing kiss. Lips slotted over one another as they found the familiar grooves of each other’s mouths. Only breaking apart when Tara confessed with a bated breath, “You looked so hot confronting that other cop.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” She mutters connecting her mouth to your neck, peppering wet kisses there. She can hear you sigh in satisfaction and it makes her hold on you tighten even more. But with great reluctance, you pulled away from Tara; who whimpered in protest.

“We can’t, babe.” You remind her, pointing with your head to Sam’s room.

She frowns, “then come to my room.” Problem solved. She smirked devilishly, tugging you toward her room; you refused.

“We still can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not taking advantage.” You whisper, only stepping close to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She groans letting her head drop to your shoulder as your hand played with her hair.

“I hate that you’re a goodie two shoes.” She mutters making you laugh.

You tilt her head up with the hand already in her hair – gaze intense as you whisper, “I can assure you, I am far from a goodie two shoes.”

And Tara thought she melted at the way your voice dropped an octave when you said that but she knew she melted when you leaned down, tugging her by the hair, to connect your lips.

It was barely a peck, all tender and fleeting.

When you pulled away, she smirked knowingly watching as your eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes – your gaze all dark, lustful. When your eyes connect you dive into her with a hair-raising kiss; all hungry and pining.

The feeling of your tongue clashing against hers and sounds of soft moans sends time stopping like only you and her exist in this apartment together. But Tara knows it doesn’t really stop and she has to eventually pull away before she takes you in the hallway – right then and there.

“God, you drive me crazy,” Tara whispers against your lips.

“So do you… cause sneaking into a club, really?” You ask unimpressed and Tara immediately pulls back, groaning.

Snickering as you follow closely behind when she walks into her room, trying to get away from you.

“You’re a mood-killer.” She mutters sitting on her bed, arms crossed over her chest; sulking.

“And you’re gonna give me and Sam a heart attack soon.” You joke but it was true. Tara loved to prove her sister wrong; not like being told what to do. It grew a defiant attitude in her that loved to stir shit up just for the hell of it, and that landed her in some hot waters with her friends sometimes. She definitely made your blood pressure sky-rocket, sometimes too.

“Why?” Tara probes. You were always so elusive and mysterious – it came with your job and allure. She can barely get you to open up about your feelings most of the time, saying you prefer to show her than tell her. You definitely did, so this admission from you was new. It has Tara yearning to hear more words of affirmation from you.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? I care about you, dummy. I nearly caused multiple accidents just to get to you. I was going like 80 mph the whole time,” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck a little ashamed.

“You were really that worried?” She asks, looking up at you with a hopeful stare like she was surprised.

“Of course, I was Tara. I even used the siren lights.” You shake your head at the fact that she’s even asking.

She was smiling goofily as you walked closer to stand between her legs, taking both her hands in yours. “I worry for all of you. But you, well, I always worry for you 'cause I’m thinking about you all the time.” You confessed in a whisper in her dark room.

Tara bites her lip, staring up at you with an indecipherable look. “You’re the worst.” Was the words that left her mouth.

“What, why?” You ask laughing.

She lets go of your hands to fiddle with your shirt buttons, muttering, “‘Cause you’re standing here looking all good and saying all the right things, and you still won’t fuck me.”

“Oookay…” You chuckle, grabbing at her fingers trying to unbutton your shirt, “That’s enough from you tonight. Let’s get you to bed before you say anything else you might regret tomorrow.”

She huffed but allowed you to grab her some new clothes to help her change; still not fucking her, Tara complains. Your eyes never even strayed from hers, not even when she took her bra off to change shirts and batted her eyes seductively. When she was all ready, you helped her to bed; tucking her in.

“Stay with me?” She asks grabbing onto your shirt, then gripping tighter. “Please.”

“What about Sam?” You ask softly, pushing away some hair from her face.

“She’s probably already sleeping, if not, she’s gonna be in her room all night.” Tara reasons, fully tugging you on top of her.

You give in like you always do.

Work for you and classes for Tara have been a lot right now, not being able to find time alone. You were practically living at the police station with the crime surge in the city, working late nights and long hours. With Sam’s overprotectiveness, Tara can say goodbye to dates so she only really sees you when you come over with her sister. You take your jacket off, place it on the chair in the corner of her room and tug your boots off. Remembering you had a change of clothes here from when Tara ransacked your closet; you picked out a shirt and shorts before getting into bed beside the younger Carpenter.

She was on you in an instant, swinging a leg over your waist, shoving her face in your neck. You feel her exhale a calming breath, once she’d settled into a comfortable position on you. You reciprocate by wrapping a strong grip around her waist, cherishing the way her skin warmed yours and how the weight of her body felt perfect.

“Just stay with me until I fall asleep?” She asks you with such a vulnerable gaze that you would never dream of ever telling her no.

You nod, pressing a kiss to her lips, then forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Goodnight.”

She smiles against your lips, whispering her own, “goodnight.”

As you hold Tara Carpenter in your arms, you find yourself fending off sleep, only ever being this relaxed around the girl. You squeeze her slightly, feeling grateful to be with her at this moment with all the craziness in your two’s lives. No worries of outside-world problems could break the cozy bubble you and Tara created. Without ever standing a chance, you lose the fight to sleep and easily fall off the precipice with her in your embrace.

– –

“Tara, do you have my nail polish – Oh this is cute.”

You spring up, the voice startling you from the most relaxed sleep you’ve ever had; the type that makes your entire body heavy and head foggy when you wake up. You were the lightest of sleepers, a pin drop could probably startle you awake, but never when you fell asleep beside Tara.

“What the fuck?” Tara grumbles against your side, peaking her head up to see Quinn watching you two in bed.

It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and instantly pale when you realize you never left the Carpenter Sister’s apartment, you never even made it out of Tara’s bed. You can feel the stream of sunlight coming in from Tara’s window and just know you had majorly fucked up.

“I just needed my nail polish but this is quite a sight, definitely a pleasant surprise.” She waves a hand toward you two, and you roll your eyes.

“Shit babe, Sam.” Tara places a hand on your arm. You check the watch strapped on your wrist for the time, 10:32 AM – making you leap out of her, oh so warm bed.

“Screw Sam, my Captain is gonna be on my ass until next year if I don’t get to work now. I was late about two hours ago.” Grumbling, you yanked Tara’s closet open and grabbed the spare trousers and button-down, you stowed in there.

"Can't say I blame your Captain." Quinn retorts, heavily eyeing you as you change your shorts into trousers.

Tara groans at the mess this morning has already been, flopping onto her back.

“Screw Sam, huh?” She appears, leaning on the threshold just behind Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest.

Your hands stall on the tie you were tying as you hear your friend’s voice, making you turn around.

“I guess that’s a no on the nail polish?” Tara glares at her roommate.

Quinn shrugs, still ogling as you changed before turning to leave the room. “Not a wasted trip though, nice catch Tara.” She winks at the brunette – holding a thumbs up.

The redhead just laughs, moving out of the way when Tara attempts to throw a pillow at her.

“Sam… I’d love to explain but I am so late for work right now.” You plead at the older sister.

Tara sat on her bed wordlessly, unsure of what Sam’s reaction is going to be – but ready to defend her relationship with you, regardless.

Sam chuckles shrugging lightly, “I already knew. Or well, I had a feeling, but this just confirms it.”

You and Tara look at each other at her confession, unsure if Sam’s words hold positive or negative connotations. Sam sees the eye-contact and laughs.

“I’m not mad, I promise. I was a little hurt that you didn’t tell me…” She pauses, “okay. I was really hurt when you guys didn’t tell me. But I realize I haven’t given Tara reason to trust me with anything about her life lately.”

That makes Tara’s head perk up at her sister’s admission. All she’s ever wanted was for Sam to trust her a little because trust went both ways in every type of relationship.

“And well, I guess I can’t think of anyone better to be with my sister than my cop friend. Especially after you came through for her last night. You were driving so fast, I thought I was gonna die.” Sam laughs a little but you’re still unconvinced.

When Sam realizes no one was still talking she chuckles again. “Guys, I’m serious!”

You cough clearing your throat, “Sorry Sam, it’s just that... I–uh,”

Tara decided to cut off your stammering, “We’re just surprised, Sam. We thought you'd be more upset. And that we were more subtle.” She admits, shooting you a look.

“You weren't. But, I thought a lot about what to say until I realized it was just you guys and I care about you two so much. You don’t think I noticed Tara being a lot happier than usual and you actually looking somewhat at peace?” She asks rhetorically, reading you and Tara to filth – your cheeks reddening, not being used to being at the other end of the ‘questioning’.

“I see how you look at each other. I know you’ll protect her.” That last sentence she says looking at you and it means the world to get her approval – something that you didn’t even know you wanted, you nod at her appreciatively.

Sam pushes herself off the doorframe, tapping on it. “Now come on, there’s breakfast in the kitchen, don't let it get cold. And Y/N, I don’t think you’re gonna make it to work today.” She winks, leaving you and Tara alone in the room.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, unable to find words to describe what just transpired in the span of a few minutes. Then you hear a scoff bring you out of your reverie.

“What the hell was that,” Tara commented, getting up from the bed and closing the door before approaching you.

“I’m… not really sure. I can’t tell if I’m still asleep.” You mumble, grabbing at her cheeks to make sure you weren't in a dream. Tara whines against the pinching, swatting your hands away.

You laughed at her frown before leaning down to kiss her slightly chapped lips, all soft and slow. Tara pulls you closer by the neck, sighing against pressed mouths. A sweet moan escapes her mouth when you suck down hard on her lip, releasing it with a loud pop.

“You think I should call in sick today?” You whisper, running a gentle thumb to soothe her swollen lip.

Tara nods, eyes half-open still a little dazed from your kiss. When she gathers her bearings, she runs a hand down your half-done tie, tugging you closer. “Definitely.”

"You can tell me more about how worried you were and how fast you were driving too," She whispers against your mouth, using your tie as a leash.

"Are you turned on right now?"

"Kinda... can I drive with the sirens on?" She slides the question in like it was nothing.

"No."

"Buzzkill." She teases but pulls you on top when her back hits the mattress. “I’ll make you change your mind.”

You definitely forgot to make that phone call.

The rest of that morning was spent in between Tara’s sheets, you two hidden away from the world; ignoring the flurry of texts and calls from your work phone. Only leaving her room to grab some food and water, but getting caught in the crossfire of teasings from Tara's friends when they see the hickeys on your neck.

Tara merely strides past you, dressed in nothing but your button-down, stopping for a peck on the lips and grabbing the water from your hands before hiding back in her room to ignore her friends. You don’t miss the cheeky wink she tosses you and the grimace Sam lets out as she watches. Instead, you keep your head down and follow the smaller girl like a lost puppy, ignoring the other's whistles as you do.

And, when you make your way to your desk the next day, a mountain pile of shitty cases for the next month is stacked high as punishment.

You still find it hard to feel any remorse for the no-show.

It was definitely worth it.

– –

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #sam carpenter #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #jenna ortega

2K notes · View notes

sarawritestories · 11 months ago

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 9

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian notices that Y/N skipped training after their night at Rita's. The group heads to the human realms and Y/N reunites with old friends...

Content Warning: Familial trauma/drama, degradation (Consensual), power imbalance, slight fat shaming, so much angst, mentions of death, Nesta being absolutely cruel. Foot stuff (Its quick I promise).

Word Count 4.5k

A/N: The sneak peak I put up for this chapter got cut and is getting moved to chapter 10 because I decided to end this chapter very differently.

Unwavering Masterlist Chapter 8 ACOTAR Masterlist

Feyre and Rhys left early the next day and I didn’t feel the need to get up for training. I laid in my bed reading my book when there was a knock on my door, “Come in.”

The door creaking open, and Cassian walked in, I glance up to see him in his leathers, “Your sister left with Rhys to go see the weaver.” He leaned against the door frame, and I made an effort to not watch his biceps contort in his uniform. He smirked and flexed his arm, and I rolled my eyes.

My gaze fell back over my book, and I flipped the page, “You know I don’t know the significance of that. I’m sure Rhys or Feyre will tell me what they’re up to. Why are you here?” I hadn’t meant for there to be a bite in my voice.

“You didn’t come to training.” His tone was soft, and I fought my instinct to look up at him, “I wanted to make sure you were, okay?”

The sound of the page turning was the only noise in my room for a moment, I sighed and closed my book, “Yesterday was a lot.” I looked at him and shrugged, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cassian remained silent, he moved to my armoire and my gaze shifted below to and took out my leathers and plopped them on the end of my bed. “Get dressed.”

“Cassian, I’m not in the mood.”

Cassian crossed his arms, “Tough.” The voice of a general talking to his subordinate, “We’re not training, we’re sparring. I expect you downstairs in five minutes.”

I crossed my arms, “What if I don’t come down?”

Cassian walked to the door, he turned back to me with a smirk, “I wouldn’t recommend it, you may not like what happens if you don’t.” He walked away, closing the door behind him. I glared at the door hoping the look seared into his back. I kicked the leathers of the bed and let myself lay back and let sleep consume me.

Cold water collided with my face shocking me up and out of my bed. Cassian stood in front of me with a bucket in his hand a cocky smile on his lips. The cold began to seep into my bones I had to clamp my teeth down to keep from chattering, “What was that for?”

Cassian bent down to pick up the leathers and pressed them into my chest focusing on my eyes and not the fact that my nipples had hardened from the cold and peeking out through my silk nightgown, “I gave you 10 minutes to come down, that was five extra minutes, and you still didn’t come down.”

I bared my teeth at him, and he only chuckled as if he wasn’t threatened by me, this male had seen the worst of humanity, went toe to toe with those people, I bet I barely posed as a threat to him. “I told you I don’t want to train.”

Cassian leaned down to my eye level the smile still lingering and his eyes gleamed with a challenge, “And I told you we’re not training, we’re sparring.” He rose back to his full height as his face softened. “Look, sometimes words don’t help, but you have energy and pent-up things you need to get out. Lucky for you I know someone who can take that on.”

I sighed, annoyed that he was right. I felt the water dripping from my hair and an idea formed in my head, I gave him a saccharine smile, “Alright, Cassie,” I purred as he tilted his head no doubt, confused by the nickname. I’ll give it a chance,” I took a step closer to him, and I could see his neck work as he swallowed. “I am going to need to dry off first.” I shake my head, letting the loose drops of water fly, spraying him in the process.

Cassian took a step back, laughing as the water landed on his skin and his leathers. Once I stopped, I grinned at him satisfied with my work, the hurt of his rejection the night before fading away. “Your trouble, Princess, you know that?” His voice was warm and made the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

Trying to ease those flutters, I shrugged, feigning calm and collected, “I’ll list it right under bad listener.” He laughed again and the sound was so joyous that a part of me would kill anyone who tried to take his joy away. I pressed my hand on his chest and could feel his heartbeat speed up. “Go on, General, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’ll have another bucket ready just in case.” He winked and walked out once more, leaving me to change.

I met him in the backyard of the town house Cassian’s back was to me his wings relaxed the leather pants covering his ass perfectly. “I can feel you staring.” Cassian’s voice made me jump. He turned to her with a knowing look on her face, “Enjoying the view.”

I crossed my arms and pooped a hip out, “I see an asshole, who threw water on me to get out of bed, I’m not sure if enjoying the view is what I would call it.”

Cassian raised his hand and motioned two fingers, “Come here, Princess.”

I took a step toward him, my neck straining as I had to look up to him. He opened his palms out a silent command. I placed my hands in his and he led me over to the seat. Taking out some white wrappings and he began wrapping one of my hands. I stared at his face and how there is a wrinkle that peaks through when he concentrates. His lips form in a tight line as he ties off my one hand and begins the other. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, though you did just ask me a question.” He looks up at me through his lashes.

I laughed, “I suppose I did.”

His smile remained on his face, finishing up wrapping my hand. “What’s your question?”

“Did you always want to be a general?” I looked down and noticed that he was still holding my hand.

The little wrinkle returns as he thinks about the question. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t plan to be living the life I do now. When I was a child, I tried to make sure I survived the next day. I never allowed myself to dream of anything more. Not even when Rhys found me in my ratty tent.”

His eyes grew distant, and I pressed my hands against his cheek, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pried.” His eyes met mine and that distant look disappeared as he twisted his head and lightly pressed his lips to the palm of my hand and my breath hitched.

“Don’t apologize, Princess. We can talk about my childhood at a later time. We’re focusing on you now.” He led me to the mat he had set up. He placed padded mittens on his hands. “Now remember what I taught you and just hit my pads as hard as you can.”

I held up my fist the way he showed me I didn’t move to throw a punch. “What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll live, Sweetheart. I’m not easily breakable.”

I glared, “And I am?”

“Did I say that? No. Now come on.” His voice was firm but still gentle. I threw the first punch, “Good again!” I punched the other hand. He keeps praising me and encourages me to go harder. “Now tell me what’s bothering you.”

Continuing my punches, the words tumbled out “I’m anxious about going back to the human realm and seeing my sisters. I’m terrified about this impending war.” The words kept pouring out, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I’m terrified that when Feyre outlives me, she’s going to forget about me. That everyone here will forget me when I die.” I dropped my fists.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian started reaching out to me and I stepped out of reach. His face fell slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and before I could run to my room, Rhys and Feyre winnowed to the backyard and Feyre looked ready to throttle Rhysand as she walked inside. Refusing to meet Cassian’s gaze, I followed after Feyre.

I walked into her room, and she was flinging various objects around her room. “Feyre? What happened?”

My twin paused and looked at me, “He almost had me killed. The weaver almost killed me. For a stupid ring!”

I felt the familiar scrape against my shield. I let him in. You almost killed my sister for a ring?

That’s a bit dramatic. The ring was an object to test if the sentiment of like calls to like. The ring is also very sentimental to me.

In what way?

It was my mother’s.

Before I could say anything to him, he left my mind and I put my shield back up. “He is insufferable. How do you enjoy his company? He looked smug when I met him out like he was surprised I survive.”

“He is kind, Fey. Also did he look smug or was he proud because not only did you get the ring, but you also got out using the skills that him and Cassian have been teaching you.” I paused, “Also, despite what you believe he is lovely to stare at.” I give her a wink.

She paused and sat on the bed with an exasperated sigh, and I took a moment to look at my sister. Feyre has gained some of the weight back that she lost after we came back from Under the Mountain. She had been sleeping the dark circles that had stained under her eyes were gone. She was finally healing. I smiled happy that life was coming back into those eyes. “I guess he is quite beautiful. Don’t tell him I said it though. He would never let me live it down,” She smiled.

I snorted and then sadness overtook me at my confession to Cassian. One day she will be walking this world alone, when my mortality takes me to whatever comes after death. Would she miss me? Would she find happiness here and be able to simply move on. Our relationship was not perfect but when her neck snapped, I wasn’t sure I was going survive this life without her. Hopefully, Cassian, Azriel and Rhys will take care of her and make sure she lives when I’m gone.

Feyre slammed me into her chest. “Stop that.” Her face was wet with tears. “Just stop. My life would be nothing without you.”

I blinked and hugged her back, “What?” Had I said those things outside?

She pulled away quickly, “Nothing.” She wiped her tears. I sighed, “So you were fighting with Cassian?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“You spend a lot of time with him?”

Another nod, “Yup.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, “I assume you enjoy his company?”

I laughed, “Feyre, just ask what you want to ask.”

“What’s going on between you two, her eyes went doe eyed with curiosity that it reminded me of Elain.

“We’re friends, he helps me train and we hang out sometimes. Is that why he almost kissed you last night?”

“How?” I asked I thought about who would tell her Azriel wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mor.” we said in unison. We made eye contact and began laughing.

“I don’t know Fey, he seemed relieved that Mor stepped in. As if he was going to make a grave mistake. Though I enjoy his company, talking with him is easy.”

Feyre nods, “And quite handsome.”

I began to think about his warm hazel eyes and his morning stubble or his raven hair. “Handsome doesn’t begin to cover it.” I look over to Feyre and there is a gleam in her eye and a smirk playing on her lips. “What?”

“You got it bad.” I threw the closest pillow at her, and she caught with, with a cackle. The laughter fades and Feyre leaned her head on the headboard. “Rhys says we’re going to the human realm tomorrow. You, me, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel.”

Dread hit me. The idea of seeing Nesta and Elain made my skin crawl. “It’s going to be a shit show.”

Feyre’s face grimaced as she nodded. “Indeed.”

***

The next day the five of us approached the edge of the forest and the manor my sisters were staying in was in view. Rhys is the first to speak, “I’ll put the glamour on us until you give us the okay to come in.” Feyre nodded, dressed in a fine black chiffon dress with silver lining the dress. I opted for A Black satin gown off the shoulder gown, A blood red belt wrapped around the waist with a bow on the back -compliments to Rhysand- kohl lined my eyes and there was a sheen to my lips.

A hand wrapped around mind the red siphon gleaming from the sun peaking through the trees. “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

“What makes you say that?” I questioned.

“You’ve been wringing your hands and tearing at your nails since we crossed the border. You were fidgeting in my arms the whole flight here.” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze. “A lot has happened since you last seen them it’s okay to feel these feelings.”

“Thanks, Cassian.” I smiled up at him and with the illumination of the sun behind him he looked like a deity.

He smiled back a full grin this time and kissed the top of my hand. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

My hear rate sped up and heat crawled to my cheeks. “I don’t think so.”

He smiles, “You look absolutely radiant, Princess.” He looked over to Feyre, “Now go, I’ll be right here should you need me.”

I nodded and I looked at Az and Rhys, Az gave a nod like he understood the challenges of visiting family, and Rhys gave a wink. I walked to Feyre, and we reached the front door, and I took a deep breath and felt the nice breeze and I could have sworn the scent of leather and sandalwood wafted through my nostrils and calmed me.

A maid had opened the door and her mouth fell, “The Archeron Twins,” She murmured in shock. She stepped out of the way for us to walk in. “Please follow me. Your sisters will be so pleased to see you.”

She walked us into a sitting room, Nesta sat on a lounge sofa reading a book, Her gray dress accentuated her curves, her face had a regal grace. Elain was in a chair working on some embroidery, in a pink tulle gown and her hair pinned halfway up with some flowers from her garden, no doubt. “Ladies, your sisters have come home.” The maid announced bowing and walking away from the foyer.

Our sisters’ heads snapped up. Nesta had a cool calculating stare assessing our attire and Elain’s face lit up with joy. She rose and ran, closing the space between us and pulling us both in her arms and I’m stunned by how tightly she hugged us. “Welcome!” She withdrew from the embrace and gripped out hands and Elain took note of the tattoos on our collar bones and the one on Feyre’s arm. “Those are beautiful.”

I smiled, Elain was always kind and always found beauty in everything. Her scent of wildflowers causes my eyes to water. “It’s good to see you, Elain.” Nesta rose and my eyes darted toward her, preparing myself for her to pounce if need be. She stuck her nose up as she approached every bit of the queen, she deemed she should be.

“I’m surprise you’re here.” Nesta said her standard Icy tone. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m surprise you’re both alive.”

Feyre nodded, “We have a lot to tell you.”

Nesta held down a glare, “So speak.”

I was about to combat her command, but Feyre was the one to speak and she told them everything. Under the mountain, Tamlin sending me to my death, how he locked her up in the house, how we both ended up in the Night Court and all the details we know of the upcoming war.

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked not cutting corners and if she felt anyway of Feyre and I facing death she didn’t show it.

“We need you to open the manor to our friends. High Fae. They would like to have a meeting here with the Human Queens. However, they are stubborn gentlemen, who would like to ask you themselves and of course meet you and thank you for even consideration.” I said straightening my posture preparing myself for the verbal lashing.

“No.” Nesta said firmly not even looking at me. Here we go.

“What?”

“Elain gets married in a month to the Lord’s son. I will not risk this wedding for your silly war.”

“We should help.” Elain spoke up and we all turned to look at her. “Nesta, if the wall comes down, there may not be a wedding.”

I smiled to Elain as Nesta mumbled, “Fine, we’ll send the servants out for the next two days.”

I leaned closer to Elain, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Elain smiled and showed her ring and Feyre, and I noticed the Iron ring adorned her finger, “His name is Graysen.”

I took a sharp breath, “Lord Graysenn?” I asked and Elain nodded enthusiastically and began going into the details of the wedding.

“Look at our good little maid, Xavier.” Graysen’s voice chuckled as I was on my knees the black dress uniforms his family required for me rising, my tongue grazing against the leather of his boot. Bits of mud and gravel getting into my mouth. “She is working so hard for her family.” He shoves his boot farther into my mouth and I begin to suck as he chuckled. “So hard, tell me what your siblings would say if they found out that you were drooling all over yourself just to make sure food was on the table.”

Muffled noises came from my mouth as drool dripped down to my cleavage that my uniform exposed.

Xavier petted my hair, “So good, maybe if she’s really good, I’ll give her those kisses she craves.” An involuntary moan came out of me, “Oh she likes that idea.” He chuckled. Hands were around my waist pulling me back, as Graysen pulled the boot from my mouth, and had me leaning against his firm chest, “Go ahead and swallow for us, pretty girl.” I did what I was told, and Xavier sang praises in my ear. “How lucky that you got this new maid, Graysen.” I looked at the man’s sharp blue eyes, his blonde hair pulled back in a bun. His thumb grazed my hip in swiping motions. Having been together for a few months his beauty and sharp features

Graysen smirked, “Yes indeed,” Graysen lifted my chin, “Do you like working for me Y/N?”

I nod, “I appreciate you offering me work.”

“Anything for my best friend’s girl.” He patted my cheek. “You can go home, after the rest of my boots get a spit shine.”

“Yes, my lord.” I smiled as Xavier’s hands wandered up my thigh, his teeth nibbling the shell of my ear.

“Xavier, please don’t distract her like you did last week. I had to doc her some of her pay.” Xavier gave him a nod and with that the lord’s son left.

Xavier waisted no time leaving kisses up and down my neck, “Xavier, I need to get this work done.”

“Later,” He growled and kissed me passionately. I moaned into his mouth and his tongue slipped in his hand groping my clothed breast. “You are delicious,” He moves to my jaw and my ear, “I’m really glad I met you.”

I smiled, “Me too, Bab-“he silenced me with a growl and a searing kiss.

“Y/N,” I shook the memory from my head to face my twin concern schooling her features, “Where did you go?”

I shook my head burying the memory farther down. “Nowhere at all.” I smiled but Nesta looked at me, her head tilted as if she could sniff out my lie.

***

The servants were gone, and all three Illyrian warriors sucked up all the air in the room. When they entered, I naturally gravitated toward the General. And what has become a habit is his wing curved around me slightly. Nesta stared at us in silence, no detail going unnoticed about her new guests.

“Nesta, we can’t thank you enough, for your hospitality.” Rhysand bows and Nesta lifts her chin. “We come here to ask for a favor.”

“You want to have me host a meeting here with the human queens. My sisters did fill me in.” Nesta’s response was short. I glanced over at Elain and noticed that she was entranced with Azriel and his wings.

Rhys, Feyre and Nesta continued with their conversation when I felt a nudge. I looked over to Cassian and he had an Orange in his hand and a slice held out for me chewing a slice of his own. I grab the slice and take a bite letting the citrus flavor consume me. He plops another slice in his mouth and picks a slice for me and he continued to do that until the fruit was gone. He threw the peels away and when he returned, he whispered in my ear, “The key to withstanding long meetings is bringing food.”

I stood on my tippy toes and whispered back, “Makes sense especially if each person in the room likes to hear themselves talk.”

He chuckled lowly, “I hope you never have to go to a High Lord’s meeting it’s a room full of people who like to hear themselves talk.”

“Sounds miserable.”

Cassian grinned, “Absolutely insufferable.”

I hadn’t even notice that Elain had left but her voice boomed, “Dinner is ready.”

***

Dinner had been tense. I was tucked between Rhys and Cassian, Feyre sat across from me. The males ate in silence and Elain was asking Azriel questions that he was kind enough to answer about his shadows. Eating my meal, I looked over to notice Feyre made a face as she bit into the food.

“Is our food not good enough for you now?” Nesta questioned with an accusatory look as if Feyre thought little of her. I groaned feeling the pain pulsing in my head.

“Just different than what we have back in Prythian.” Feyre muttered looking down at her plate.

Nesta turned a pointed look to me, “What about you? Is the food still good to you since you’re not them?”

“Can we not do this please.” I pleaded, “We haven’t seen either of you in a year. Please I’m begging. Drop it.”

Elain sat quietly, focusing on her own food, and Nesta clearly decided she wanted to lash out. “I will not. You come here, jeopardize our social standing here, and you two suddenly want to act better than us. I can tell you must enjoy the food, considering you're bigger than I saw you last. And even coming here in matching colors with this rabid beast, it's beneath you, really.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, nothing new. Nesta was always the first to criticize my weight. She had been doing that for years. A hand gripped my knee and gave it a squeeze, I didn’t need to look to know it was Cassian.

“What are you looking at?” Nesta sneered her gaze meeting Cassian.

“A wicked, vile, woman, who would let her two baby sisters go out in the forest alone to help provide for the family. While she sat and did nothing. Feyre and Y/N were willing to lay down their life to save and protect my people. Both are willing to do it again, so you don’t have to go to war. So, excuse me if I’m not pleased that you are choosing to insult these two remarkable females in my presence. As for Y/N being in my colors. I haven’t made a claim against her. I didn’t even know she was going to wear it though the colors suit her beautifully. Also, there is nothing wrong with gaining weight and muscle, the more of her to love, the better.”

Nesta rose and crossed her arms, “You’re a fool. Do you know that? Aligning yourself with Feyre is one thing. She has excellent survival skills and those could be useful, but Y/N? Death follows her everywhere she goes. She killed our mother.” She gave me a pointed look and it felt like my lungs were going to give out. I couldn’t even feel Cassian’s grip tighten. “She killed a debt collector attacking our useless father. If you three are wise, you would leave her here in the human realm before she becomes your doom. And if you don’t than I wonder why the humans ever feared the fae in the first place.” She turns to me, and tears threaten to come down. “I wish it was you that died that day. Not mother.”

Elain and Feyre rose up from their seats, “NESTA,” they said in unison. My legs were not moving at my command as I jolted from my chair and ran out of the dining hall and out of the manor entirely, ignoring my name being called out.

My feet were moving of their own accord, ignoring the cold bite of the evening as I pushed hard and kept moving. Once I finally stopped and took a breath I looked up and found myself in our old cabin. The wood splintered from when Tamlin barged in, the chipped paint of Feyre’s work. The smell brought back memories of late nights, stiff necks, and pain. The depths I went to just to make sure we had some money on the days Feyre couldn’t catch game.

I walked into our bedroom, the dresser calling out like a beacon. I sat in front of it and took in my sister’s work, flowers for Elain, Flames for Nesta and Feyre and I shared the third dresser which was painted with a night sky and a cabin with a shadow by the window. Nothing indicating where I belonged.

I wished you died instead of her. The emotions of the day took hold and deafening sobs unleashed from my body as I covered my face in my hands. Wondering what I ever did to cause Nesta that much pain. My sobs were so loud I didn’t hear the door creak open, but I heard footsteps. “Please go away, I don’t want to talk.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” My spine sat up straight at the familiar voice, “I so desperately want to talk to you, Baby.” I turned to find Xavier in the doorway. His hair cropped short, his white uniform pristine and four gashes scarred above and below his cold blue eyes. My breathing was coming in short rapid, spurts.

Another set of footsteps followed, and a hooded figure walked in. Lowering his hood the moonlight revealed another familiar face, Elain’s now fiancé, Graysen, his smile sinister, “Hello, Y/N.”

Chapter 10

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian fluff #cassian angst

421 notes · View notes

astradyke · 5 months ago

Note

Please write the dissertation on how phil deals with dan's self deprecation :)

hi! i am not certain what exactly you are referring to, but i will be using my best guess that you are referencing what i talked about in this post about a certain minute and a half from a certain video. if that's not what you meant, shoot me another ask! but assuming that's it, well, without further ado...

a deep dive into 19:57-21:26 of What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2

What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2 was released December 21st, 2021 on AmazingPhil's channel. this video was released around two and a half years into Dan's hiatus (two years from their joint hiatus). setting aside the several YouTube Originals including Dan as talent, the next upload released on his own channel would be Why I Quit YouTube, released May 2nd, 2022. the sole reason i mention this video is for the contextualization of what was occurring during What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2-- this video was taken at some point after Dan had learned that his dream show, Dan Is Not Okay, was not going to be actualized, a reality that he described as traumatic.

i want to be explicitly clear that i am NOT intending to speculate on what was transpiring in private, nor am i romanticizing severe trauma. this is a frame by frame commentary post about publicly available content.

the outro to this video begins at 19:52, with a single frame that cuts at 19:57. At 19:57, Phil says: "Bunch has happened with you that we did not text about," to which Dan emphasizes, "That I can't talk about." Dan begins speaking on his own at this point, but you see Phil's face shift as he prods Dan to "talk a bit" about what is going on-- his eyebrows furrow, he's making direct eye contact with the camera, and he seems to be frowning. As Dan talks calmly yet vaguely about the circumstances we later learn about in Why I Quit YouTube, Phil's face shifts from the previously described expression to one where his cheeks puff up, his eyebrows still furrowed-- clearly annoyed. This shift happens as Dan is talking:

"Look, quite a few things, dreams of mine-"

"-got quite catastrophically torpedoed..."

Phil's face is like this for only a second before he relaxes it, though he still looks noticeably unhappy after. There is a jump-cut ~20:12, where Dan now has his hand resting against his face, while Phil emphatically expresses: "Like, Dan has been so close to almost giving you something, and then it's been taken away."

at this point, Dan carefully starts saying that several of these projects might happen in the future-- to which Phil looks a little defeated:

before looking irritated, even more-so than before, when Dan says: "... but I cannot to just wait for them or be gone in the meantime."

again, relaxes again after a few seconds, and only begins to look positive when Dan describes that "somehow, some way, in the new year, I will be back."

... okay, so why did i show you any of that? mainly because i think it is significant to contrast the way that Dan approaches this subject versus how Phil does. Dan is plagued with vestiges of bitter professionalism and a sort of sadness as he tries to allude to the nightmare of his last two years, which makes sense in the context of his indecision over how to respond to what happened. all that Dan has experienced has forced him to constrain his emotional responses, as he has spent two years walking along a very similar edge with his literal dreams at stake. Phil, meanwhile, has a subconscious reaction to what Dan is saying, and without intending to, expresses across his face the shifting emotions that Dan feels unable to show.

to me it mirrors something we see in the I TRY TO GIVE DAN A HAIRCUT!! video. In this video, Dan continuously expresses uncertainty about promoting his book, being repeatedly encouraged by Phil to talk about it-- only for Phil to insert a segment at the end of the video to promote it more fervently. Dan is forcibly holding back, versus Phil openly expresses what Dan feels he cannot do in that moment. when Dan is wading through complicated emotions in order to treat the subject of his recent trauma respectfully, Phil is pantomiming what Dan cannot say in that moment, what he is not safe to say: that he got completely fucked over. Phil is communicating what we would spend five months knowing nothing about, in a way that exposes nothing except the fact that he was by Dan's side, feeling a fraction of his pain, throughout it, and that Dan didn't deserve it. that Dan is not at fault for his own absence.

at 20:35, Phil perks up and expresses that "the world has missed your sarcasm," voicing not only his own excitement ("I'm braced") but also the audience's excitement to see Dan return to YouTube. Dan laughs, before asking: "have they, though?" here, Phil very earnestly says, "yeah!" he is slightly shrugging, eyebrows rising (i couldn't capture a good visual here, sorry). the conversation is quickly hijacked by Dan, who continues to say "maybe this has been good for the world"-- Phil makes an expression here that is convoluted to read, mixed with both irritation/skepticism but also losing a degree of seriousness-- and starts laughing to himself as Dan goes onto say, effectively, that maybe things are better without him there at all. this is a very noticeable part of a lot of Dan and Phil content: Dan makes a self-deprecatory remark, Phil responds very earnestly, and then Dan continues to take it in a joking direction, so Phil picks it up and jokes back.

this feels jarring, at first, because at the time that this video released, i remember being surprised at how dark Dan was being, in a place that was clearly meant to be laughed off but was not executed like his typical cynicism. Phil follows along with laughing about it, because they are professionals and moving along is a quick way to handle something that does not need to escalate to an intervention/argument, but Phil does not joke about this from the beginning-- he is very earnestly assuring, at first, before realizing that Dan is doubling down, and he backs off. and he actually does this a lot across their videos: following Dan's lead.

20:48 is when Phil starts the actual outro of the video. at 20:51, after thanking the audience for watching the video, he gestures at Dan and turns to say: "Thanks, Dan-" to which Dan cuts him off to say, "Thank you for tolerating my presence." Phil continues his earlier sentence, correcting Dan by saying, "for treating us with your presence."

this is done (1) immediately and (2) deliberately. there is no shift in Phil's facial expression, no muddling or joking about what he is saying. Dan, in this moment, is reverting and doubling down on the self-deprecation we started to hear just a moment ago, and Phil is responding to it not by cutting Dan off, or bantering about it, or scolding him, but by very clearly correcting it. Dan is asserting what he believes to be the truth-- this does not read like his regular cynical humor-- and Phil is, in turn, asserting his truth just as confidently: that Dan is, as he said at the very beginning of this video, "a gift" for the audience. That Dan is creating something beautiful, that it's not his fault what is happening to him, and that both the audience and Phil want him.

the outro continues on, and Phil does his promotional stuff, explicitly including Dan in pretty much everything he promotes. here's my best attempt at a screenshot where you can see how close the two of them moved together over the course of this video; this is Phil telling people to subscribe to Dan.

Dan then says, at the very end of the video, that "it has been... a year." Phil doesn't express much facially, but he does say a very clear, "yeah." as Dan goes on to close out the video. in the end cards, Dan's end card says: "DANIEL!" obvious excitement and endearment here.

... okay, that's cool Mare, but you started writing this two hours ago and i don't understand why i needed to read any of that?

this video holds a very different tone to the others in the series, which is possibly why it is not a favorite for many people. it is a funny video, undeniably, but it is very clear in hindsight that this was shot while Dan was in a relapse. which is why it is so meaningful and loud to me that Phil not only brought this series back unexpectedly, but also exhibits this 'pressing forward and pulling them both back' strategy. they laugh about texts, Phil does their joint promotions, and then Dan says something self-deprecatory-- Phil steps up to sincerely counter it, and then pulls them both back as the next jump cut happens. the two of them are in-step, here, matching each other: Dan and Phil alternate discussing Dan's solo work issues; Phil picks up when Dan is trying to make a joke and joins in on it; when Dan self deprecates, Phil takes the same exact sentence and changes a singular word without a visual second thought. they do this all together.

there are a lot of ways to navigate self-deprecation. notably, when arising from a serious internal crisis colored by depression, you can't reason them directly out of it-- it's an immutable truth, to them, something that the world has affirmed. when Dan says that the internet would be better without him, that his presence is merely to be tolerated, you can tell that in the moment of this video's filming he did genuinely believe this. Phil recognizes that any attempt he makes to combat this has to be subtle enough to look over, but clear enough that the audience registers it in their head. it has to be said like it is an obvious truth, because to Phil (and us) it is an obvious truth. and it has to be done in line with Dan, not cutting him off or speaking over him, but by giving him the agency to express how he feels, and informing him, gently, that Phil is in love with him even if Dan is struggling to love himself.

Phil wanted us all to know in this video that Dan was being mistreated, even before any of us knew what that actually meant. even as Dan dealt with the psychological repercussions of this on his own mentally, it reminds us that Phil was there the entire time, Phil saw it and he grieved, too, because if the hiatus showed us anything it is that Phil loves Dan's solo work and his creative mind more than pretty much anything, aside from Dan himself. he also tried to emphasize, at the beginning and the end and even in the foundations of the video, that Dan being there was a treat! not something to be taken for granted! that Dan was something special, something the world desired, and yes that may sound obvious given that we were all there eagerly waiting for joint content, but in the context that Dan was being used for billboards and specials and whatever the fuck just because he could, that he was conscripted into projects and then forgotten about, that his own dreams 'fell through the cracks'... yeah.

a major reason why the hiatus years are so fond in my heart is that they are a clear period of time where you can see Phil's relentless devotion to Dan. he does the most that he can to support him-- he brings him onto a fun joint video, he promotes his merch, he really promotes his book, he coaxes Dan to talk more about solo projects, and he emphasizes that he wants him there. and this is all why this video in particular is so meaningful to me. it's the two of them, unexpectedly for us, bringing back a series where they revel in their insane psychic connections with each other, and it's Phil saying over and over and over again-- this person is with me. i am by his side. i am proud of him, and i radically refuse to take him for granted. he can never go anywhere that i won't follow him.

and that, that is everything.

#astra.meta #dan and phil #phan #what dan and phil text each other #long post

194 notes · View notes

iamtheonethinginlifeicancontrol · 1 month ago

Text

I have thoughts on this week's episode of Ranma 1/2 (ep 11)!

I thought that the re-framing that the anime did of Shampoo and Akane's match was very interesting. Choosing to have Akane lob a desk at Ranma and then have him hit in the head by a football (holy head trauma, Batman!) was such an interesting change to make! Ranma being unconscious for a minute or two before running off in search of Akane gave the match more time to occur, built more suspense, and gave Ranma himself more urgency in his search.

The rest of what I have to say contains spoilers (can we say this of a manga series that finished in 1996?) for the end of the manga, under the cut

I'm a die-hard 乱あ shipper and have been since I first read Ranma 1/2, so this episode delighted my little shipper heart. There are some small but significant deviations from the manga that I wanted to expand on, and one particular change that is narratively significant in light of manga canon.

Putting aside the issues of Shampoo's newer fixation on Ranma-as-male as her future husband per Amazonian law and how that impacts the dynamics of our tsundere couple in this ep, I'm choosing to focus on the scenes related to Akane's showdown with Shampoo and the changes that the anime made from the manga (and why I'm living for them).

As mentioned, the decision to knock Ranma unconscious is an interesting change to make, but I'd argue that it works well and was a well thought-out deviation from manga canon. As I said above, it gives the match more time to occur—whether that impacts the duration of time that the Xi Fa Xiang Gao technique takes is yet to be seen. It also builds suspense for the audience, especially in light of the younger generations/newer audience members who may be interacting with Ranma 1/2 for the first time. Most importantly, though, it gives urgency to Ranma's search for Akane that isn't quite there in the manga. Sure, he's worried as he runs after Shampoo and Akane after he gets delayed (by Akane slamming a window in his face lol), but the time that elapses between the two girls going off to fight and Ranma going after them is very short. Maybe 30 seconds, 60 at the very most. I'll include a panel below to illustrate this:

And of course, I'm not arguing that Ranma isn't worried about Akane or fearful that she'll get hurt. But there's a fairly significant difference in how this is portrayed (see below) versus how the anime chose to approach this.

For one thing, the framing is very different. Akane getting injured, while of real concern, is being shown in a humourous way; her facial expressions (like the swirly eyes) and Takahashi-san's characteristic "るーみっくサイン" (rumic sign) are used for comedy, to make it seem like any hurt Akane might incur won't be too serious. Plus, while Ranma does try to diffuse the tension after Akane grabs P-chan from the tray and gets the Kiss of Death for her trouble (lol Shampoo just gives those things out like party favours, doesn't she?), and tries to avert the fight between the two girls, the time that passes doesn't truly allow his concern to sharpen further. As seen above, Ranma's worried-but-determined. He's not flooded with anxiety (or particularly intrusive thoughts imo).

However, the anime chose to allow Ranma to actually lose consciousness at the beginning of the girls' match. We don't (and probably won't) know how long Ranma was actually unconscious, but it certainly was long enough to warrant his frantic search for Akane.

And frantic it is! This man starts running around the entire campus yelling her name, escalating to screeeeaming by the end. Please see below (subs are Akane's name [あかね] and onomatopoeia/sound effects for running and heavy breathing):

But don't worry, guys, he's super laid back, super chill. Jk just in these screenshots alone, he's calling/yelling her name 10 times.

Let's talk quickly about framing here! This is pretty starkly different from how the manga frames these scenes. The colouring is dark, the sky is cloudy, there's no lightheartedness to be seen, and Ranma's frantic and anxious, underscored by the, uh, musical scoring. The anime is treating this as Serious Business, which does make a lot of sense, given that Shampoo chased onna!Ranma all over China trying to kill him, and that experience is what's informing Ranma here. He has an interspersed imagination spot (see below) of Shampoo hitting Akane point blank in the chest with one of her chuí, and we see Akane exclaim in pain, fall to the ground, and remain motionless. He's panicking because he knows how dangerous Shampoo is, and he's afraid for Akane. He doesn't want her to get hurt; he wants to protect her wellbeing, especially because he's seen that she's less concerned with that than he thinks she should be. His insult from the skating arc makes another appearance here: he calls Akane "鈍い女" [nibui onna; slow/dull girl chick], which in his imagination looks like Akane leaving herself completely open for a sternal strike? But his anxiety is informing this mental image, so he's probably imagining a worst-case scenario. I'd hope that his opinion of Akane's capability would be higher, but I digress.

After he stops running about and screams Akane's name in desperation, he quickly hears Ryouga-as-P-chan's voice, he dashes toward the sound, finding Akane unconscious on the ground: fears confirmed!

And here's where, to me, it gets really interesting. We see that Ranma is calling Akane's name and cradling her in his arms; very different to this scene in the manga, where he's on his knees next to her, calling her name and saying, "hey, [untranslatable word that could best be read as] just..." (see below):

And in the anime, this becomes what I think must be an intentional reference to the end of the Saffron arc in the last volume of the manga (38). Ranma says the same thing in one of the last scenes of that story arc, cradling an unconscious Akane in his arms, calling her name, and begging her, "起きろよ、あかね" (okiro yo, Akane; wake up, Akane], among other things. See below for comparison of the manga (upper left-hand panel, specifically) vs the anime:

And here's episode 11's parallel:

Well, gee, what does Ranma screaming her name while holding her with tears in his eyes remind me of? I'm glad you asked! It's the next panel in the manga!

Spoilers, but really.

I've reached my pic limit on this post, so I can't compare and contrast much more, but I do have more to say on this parallel. Might make another post later, so that I can show more pics for illustration.

Whether I make that follow-up post or not, my immediate thought when I saw this in the episode was both that it was an intentional reference to Jusendō, and that it was intended to be the first of a pair of narrative bookends (i.e. recurring or similar scenes meant to refer & compare to one another within the narrative to illustrate something, whether character growth, story progression, relational changes, etc). If we do get the Full Ranma Series animated (may it please God), this is both foreshadowing and bookending, and I'm delighted by it!

Also, even if we don't get to see the Jusendō arc animated, Yamaguchi Kappei will have had the opportunity to play a version of that iconic scene from the manga and do his best "Akaneeeee!" scream.

#ranma remake #akane tendo #ranma saotome #乱あ #tendou akane my beloved #saotome ranma my beloved #here there be spoilers #discussion of manga canon #ranma 1/2 #ranma x akane

115 notes · View notes

delicatebarness · 6 months ago

Text

winters widow | chapter ix

Summary: In the aftermath of the devastating attack on Winter's Reach, The White Wolf awakes.

Warning: Mentions of previous Sexual Assault. Violence. Murder. Trauma and Revenge.

Word Count: 1752

Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: You know I love a good Bucky-centered chapter now and then. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Reach was left strained in the aftermath of the attack. The once grand halls echoed the grim task of assessing the damage and planning its repairs. Lord James paced back and forth inside the council room, his face a mask of determination. The Reach’s advisors gathered around the long table, his father at the head as they gathered around the long table. Their voices were hushed as they discussed the damaged and necessary steps to recovery.

“The eastern walls are breached,” an advisor reported, his voice weary. “We lost a significant portion of our defenses. Rebuilding will take weeks– if not months.”

Lord James’ mind was elsewhere, barely registering the advisor's words. His heart ached for you, the sight of you broken and terrified still haunted him. He had been by your side every moment since, trying to comfort you, but he was helpless against the darkness that claimed your spirit.

Another advisor spoke up, his voice hesitant. “My lord, we must also address the matter of the attacker who… who violated Lady Romanoff.”

The gravity of the words hung heavy in the air as the room fell silent. Lord James stopped pacing, his eyes darkened with a dangerous fury. Turning on his heel, he faced the advisor, fist clenching at his sides.

His fists slammed down on the table, the sound echoing through the chamber. “I will not rest until they pay for what they’ve done.” Lord James spat, his voice trembling with rage.

Uneasy glances were exchanged between the advisors, unsure of how to respond to Lord James’ outburst. Lord Barnes, James’ father, and more seasoned commander cleared his throat and spoke carefully.

“James, we understand your pain and anger. But, we must remain focused on rebuilding and ensuring the safety of Winter’s Reach. Vengeance, while justified, cannot cloud your judgment or priorities.”

“Very well, Father,” Lord James’ said, his voice firm but laced with pain. “We will rebuild, strengthen our defenses. Winter’s Reach needs us now more than ever.”

The advisors and his father nodded in agreement, their resolve matched that of their young lord. Together, they turned their focus back to the tasks at hand, determined to store Winter’s Reach.

However, Lord James had his own plan simmering in his mind. As the council continued to discuss logistics and strategy, he excused himself, claiming he needed a moment to clear his mind. Understanding the weight of the situation, the advisors and his father did not question his departure.

Once outside the council chambers, Lord James made his way down to the kennels. Fierce and loyal, the wolves sensed his approach and stirred restlessly. His heart was heavy but resolute as he selected the strongest, most capable among them. With his wolves at his side, he ascended the stairs to your chambers.

He paused at the threshold, the scent of fear lingered in the air, and memories of the last time he entered flooded his mind as his heart ached. Sensing their master’s turmoil, the wolves whined softly. Steeling himself, Lord James entered the room, guiding the wolves to the torn nightgown and the blood-stained sheets. He waited for them to pick up the scent, their keen noses twitching as they locked onto the trail.

Leading them out of the Reach and into the night, he was satisfied that they had the scent. Hanging high in the sky, the full moon cast an eerie glow over the landscape. Lord James rode Alpine with purpose, the wolves beside him, their eyes glowing with a predatory gleam.

As they made their way through the forest, the scent grew stronger, leading them closer to the one who had brought such pain and devastation. Lord James’ resolve hardened with every step Alpine took.

The soft padding of the wolves’ paws and the rustle of leaves under hooves, were the only sounds against the night. He felt a cold, fierce determination settling over him, he would avenge you, and he would bring the attacker to justice.

The wolves moved deeper into the first as the scent grew stronger. Their keen senses led them unerringly toward their quarry. Soon, Lord James’ came upon a small clearing where a campfire flickered weakly. Eerie shadows cast across the surrounding trees.

Hunched over and muttering to himself, was the man who had shattered the peace of Winter’s Reach. Looking up, his eyes widened with fear as he sensed the presence of the wolves, a moment before he saw Lord James.

“You stole something from me,” Lord James spoke, his voice a low, dangerous growl under his mouth guard.

Panic flickered across the man’s face as he scrambled to his feet. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

Dismounting Alpine, Lord James took a step forward, his gaze cold and unyielding as he removed the mouth guard. “The White Wolf.”

Fear dawned in the attacker’s eyes as recognition flickered within them. But, it was too late. The Lord raised a hand to his lips and let out a sharp, piercing whistle. Eyes glinting in the moonlight, the wolves sprang into action.

With no time to react, the wolves were upon the man, their teeth bared and growls ferocious. He screamed, the sound of pure terror, as the wolves dragged him to the ground. Lord James watched, a smirk etched across his lips as his face contoured into a mask of grim satisfaction.

He approached the writhing figure on the ground, watching as the wolves tore into the man, their fury matched Lord James’ own. The sound of his screams echoed throughout the forest, yet there was no one to hear them, no one to come save the man from the retribution of the White Wolf and his pack.

Standing over the scene, Lord James’ heart was heavy but resolute. He had vowed to you that he would protect you, to avenge you, and now he had taken the first step toward fulfilling his promise.

With a final commanding whistle, Lord James called the wolves off as the attacker’s screams eventually began to face. The wolves obediently retreated, their muzzles stained with blood, and their eyes glinting with the same predatory gleam.

Looking down at the motionless figure on the forest ground, the wolves stood watch, their breaths visible in the cold midnight air. They maintained a protective circle around their master.

His mind was a tumult of rage and sorrow, and he stared down at the attacker– The man who had stolen from the one person he loved most. For that, he deserved no mercy.

Lord James knelt beside the man with a cold determination. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, and he unsheathed it with a steely resolve. The blade reflected the light of the moon, illuminating the unyielding resolve in Lord James’ eyes.

“This is for the pain you caused,” he whispered, carrying a weight of his anger and grief. “For the innocence you stole, for the fear you instilled, and for the life you shattered.”

Barely conscious, the man looked up at the lord with terror-filled eyes. Lord James raised his sword as the man tried to speak, to plead, but no words came. His blade was poised to strike.

“For Winter’s Reach,” he murmured, his voice unwavering. “For my lady.”

With a swift, decisive motion, James brought his sword down. Cutting cleanly, the blade served the attacker’s head from his body.

The forest fell silent. The only sound remaining was the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

His breath came in ragged gasps as the reality of what he had done settled over him, as he stood. He had exacted his revenge, taking a life, and in doing so, had upheld the honor of Winter’s Reach. Yet, his victory felt hollow, his actions pressing heavily on his soul.

Nuzzling him in silent support, the wolves came to Lord James’ side as they sensed the shift in his demeanor. Sheathing his sword, Lord James’ gaze lingered on the lifeless body for a moment long before turning away. Nodding down at the eldest of the wolves.

“Home,” he said softly to the wolves, his voice heavy as he mounted Alpine once more that night.

The lord’s thoughts were consumed with you as he made his way back to the Reach. He thought of the pain you had endured and the healing that still lay ahead. He knew the journey was far from over, but for now, he had done what he needed to do.

As he approached Winter’s Reach, the sight brought a sense of bittersweet relief. He had avenged you, but now he faced the challenge of helping you head, the rebuilding of trust and security that had been so brutally taken from you.

Entering the grounds, the wolves still at his side, he guided them back to the kennels and settled Alpine back in her stable. He made his way to his chambers, pausing outside the door, steadying his breath before stepping inside.

Sitting by the window, your gaze distant and haunted. You turned to see him standing there, and a flicker of understanding crossed your face. Suspicion of what he had done, the justice he had sought in the darkness of the forest Yet, you chose not to comment, the silent acknowledgment passing between you.

Lord James moved to be by your side, his voice gentle and reassuring. “You should get some rest, my love,” he softly urged, his eyes full of concern and love.

The weight of exhaustion lay heavily on your shoulders as you nodded. You moved slowly to the bed and settled in. Lord James watched you for a moment, as he respected your space, he longed with the desire to comfort you, to hold you close. He knew you needed time, and rest to begin healing.

The flickering flames of the fireplace cast a warm glow over the room as he sat in the nearby chair. He kept watch, his eyes never straying far from you as you lay in bed, drifting into an uneasy sleep.

The night had been long and harrowing, but in the quiet of his chambers, there was a sense of fragile peace. Lord James vowed silently to himself that he would ensure that the future held nothing but light and love for both of you. He would stand by you, and protect you, and as the dawn broke over Winter’s Reach, he promised a new beginning, a glimmer of hope in the wake of the darkness that had passed.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

157 notes · View notes

anim-ttrpgs · 6 months ago

Text

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy July 11th Update, Wolfmania, Our Biggest Update Yet!

youtube

This update was delayed by about one week, but I think everyone will find that this was well worth it, as this has been our most significant update ever to the rulebook and general content of Eureka. Where do I even begin?

Maybe I’ll start with the best part. For a limited time, this update is FREE! You can grab a PDF from the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club Discord server from now (July 11th 2024) until the next book club round starts! (Which will probably be about a month.)

Here’s just a few of the highlights for this update, you’ll find the full changelog below.

Major cleanup and copy-editing is underway again finally, and we managed to eliminate 42 pages of unnecessary blank space and extraneous text, as well as rewording and reorganizing many rules sections to make them clearer and easier to read. You now only have to read 20 pages before the first mention of how to roll dice, rather than 70.

Ten new character traits.

A PC’s Wealth stat now has a much greater effect on them in more areas of gameplay.

A ton of new art assets.

A bunch of massive improvements to combat that make it flow smoother with fewer interruptions, some of these improvements will be discussed in detail in their own post.

Repurposed Chapter 7 into being a chapter dedicated to GMing and homebrew.

Huge cleanups to the supernatural chapter.

Some changes to monsters overall to make them more modular and less restrictive in character creation.

Two new playable “supernatural” “creatures.”

Two new mage traits as well. (Which also double as two new spells for the witch)

The weaknesses of a vampire are now a bit more subjective and modular. For instance, in character creation you can trade off a greater sensitivity to garlic for a more potent sense of smell, or a lesser sensitivity to garlic for a weaker sense of smell. Vampires are now also explicitly thematically tied to religion, religious trauma, and religious horror.

Wolfmania! The wolfman monster now has different transformation options during character creation. You now choose your wolfman PC’s partial wolf transformation and full wolf transformation, with four options for each. There are some major narrative trade-offs for different combinations but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.

Then, there is "The Eye of Neptune." "The Eye of Neptune" is a Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure module that has languished in an unfinished state for like six months, but we finally got it like 99% complete. The only thing missing are the maps and the artwork, which it is fully playable without.

Man has built a city of steel and black blood atop the endless abyss. It is a beating heart bound together with labyrinthian pipe veins. Hundreds of miles away from civilization, it stands in the midst of the Gulf of Mexico with naught but empty horizons around it. Within is a vast structure of winding halls, grinding machinery, and thousands upon thousands of small parts working to achieve a grand design. It is the Offshore Oil Rig Neptune, and it was once run by 200 workers. Now, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has fallen to more or less a dozen. These last vestiges of life in the rig spread themselves thin and work their hands to the bone to keep the massive beast running. In the midst of this overwhelming isolation, two members of the already shorthanded crew are unaccounted for, Seth Barlowe and Lukas Ward. The installation manager, Noah, has convened a meeting to try to find out what happened to him. With the crew already severely shorthanded and tensions running high, a mysterious disappearance is the last thing anyone needs.

You can get a copy of The Eye of Neptune, as well as another adventure module, several stories, and continuous monthly rulebook updates from our Patreon for only $5/month!

Now here's the full changelog! I'm mercifully putting it under a Read More because it's our longest one yet!

CHANGE LOG

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 47.

CHAPTER 1

Better clarified how Heat increases.

Minor edit to Role of the Narrator.

Changed the name of Chapter 1 to “Core Gameplay Rules”

Minor tweak/clarification to what happens with a 7-9 on a Heat roll.

Instead of +1 Heat when the villain is in league with the police, Heat now simply does not decrease for the duration of the adventure.

Heat rolls are now made whenever an investigator’s Heat increases by 3 or more within a single scene, rather than being made on multiples of 3 Heat.

Added another entry to the list of how Heat can increase

How much Heat an investigator starts the adventure with is now based on their Wealth stat.

Minor sentence reworks

Added a more detailed story of A.N.I.M. and Eureka’s history to the foreword

Moved Verisimilitude section out of Foreword down below Inspirations

Moved “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to Chapter 3 above Grievous Wounds

Moved the “Monsters” section of the foreword to Chapter 8

Better clarified starting Heat

Lots of copy-editing and minor twinning, additions, and tweaks

Fixed the Quick Term definition for Truth being inaccurate.

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 1 to Chapter 7, including Heat

CHAPTER 2

Fixed the Believer Snoop accidentally being put with the Woo-Woo trait

Tweaked the None of My Business Trait

Changed Traits section to “Mundane Trait List”

Changed the amount of Penetrative HP for Not Finished Yet trait to 13 instead of 10

Added holster to item list.

Found out bump stocks are no-longer illegal

Added “It’s for a Book” trait

Added “Moneybags” trait

Added “The Ascot” trait

Added “Gang Way!” trait

Added “Dangerprone Damsel” trait

Added “Master of Disguise” Trait.

Added “Ninja” Trait

Added “Quick Draw” trait

Edited the Food Budget item to be more clear

Changed it so that guns no-longer come with bullets, these must be bought separately

Changed having +2 Wealth to “middle class” and +3 Wealth to “upper middle class,” to better describe how the Wealth skill actually influences the game

The formula for calculating WP is now 3D6+6+[Wealthx2]

Increased the WP price for certain items to reflect the above change

Added “Frugal” trait

Added “Kleptomaniac” trait

Added art of example investigator Nick Morgan

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 2 to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about investigators losing items to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Changed the name of Chapter 2 to “How to Make an Investigator” because now all the NPC stuff is moved to Chapter 7

Better clarified skills

Changed the heading “Additional Traits” to “Choosing More Than Three Traits”

CHAPTER 3

Added clarification that sometimes it does matter whether a weapon is a blunt weapon, a piercing weapon, or a cutting weapon, and we trust players to be able to intuit what types of weapons are what.

Made animal teeth and animal claws separate entries on the weapon list

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

Explained what a node map is

Removed the rules for doing turn order based on Reflexes rolls, and finally made it so that Epicenter Initiative works with firearms combat.

Added rules for equipping weapons during combat

You now add Acceleration bonus to Athletics rolls for characters moving long distances in theater of the mind combat. Need to go around and remove the special speeds for various supernatural characters.

Added a section that explains why so many pages is dedicated to combat despite this game being an investigation game primarily

Added art of some small knives

Put “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to this chapter instead of the Foreword

CHAPTER 4

Added some art to the gun information list

Made Fully Automatic Fire have a hard limit of 12 bullets per attack.

Added Quick Cycling rule, allowing characters with a +2 or more in Firearms to fire Two-round Bursts with Single-Action and Repeating firearms.

CHAPTER 5

Added rule for ride-by attacks to basic melee attack

Better clarified Escape

Attempts to disarm a character now have bonuses or penalties based on the difference between the Athletics skill of the two characters involved, similar to how Escape attempts work.

CHAPTER 6

Clarified that Acceleration is not affected by Composure

Tiny tweak to how chases are described

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

CHAPTER 7

Added “How We Play Eureka” section explaining which optional rules we personally do and don't prefer

Changed the name of Chapter 7 to “Advanced Narration and Homebrewing”

Added a ton of stuff from other chapters to Chapter 7 to make it a general chapter for Narrators as well as help with game/module design and homebrewing. It is currently a little bit of a mess but is at least serviceable until we get to the point where we can fully copy-edit it.

CHAPTER 8

Minor vampire tweaks

Made it so that that the vampire sensitivity to certain scents is more codified and now causes composure rolls, and now works more like their compulsion to count things in that the placement of the weakness on their tiers of fear determines how much of a bonus they have to Senses checks involving smell and taste.

Adjusted Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above changes

Added more mechanics for how NPC vampires interact mechanically with weaknesses.

Better clarified the full moon roll for wolfmen. It is now just 1D12+1.

Better codified superhuman strength as a rule.

Gave the math for handling consistent HP across alternate supernatural forms its own section.

Completely redid the wolfman wolf forms. Now during character creation players can choose one of four options for each of the wolfman’s wolf forms, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Up to 16 possible combinations! Wolfmania!

Improved the werewolf trait to fit with the updates to wolfman

Adjusted wolf manifestation of vampire to fit with new wolfman rules.

Better clarified vampire claws

Added Supernatural Bonuses and Investigation Rolls section

Tweaked wolfman involuntary transformation so that the form they rampage in is still random even if they are already in a wolf form when the rampage starts

Changed stats of vampire’s bat manifestation

Better clarified vampire sunlight and silver weakness mechanics

Totally revamped vampire’s monstrous beast manifestation

Redid the Superhuman Speed mage trait, made it a lot better

Improved the Stealth bonus of the Invisibility mage trait

Improved Stealth bonuses of thing from beyond.

Added a “Purpose” mechanic to living dolls, which is what the doll in question was built to do. When they act towards this purpose, they get +1 to rolls, and when they fail or otherwise ignore their purpose, they may lose Composure.

Updated Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above

Made it so wolfmen lose 2 Composure from skipping a meal instead of 1.

Clarified that the thing from beyond does not need to stay in human shape the entire time they are digesting a human victim.

Clarified the possibility of escaping from a monstrous supernatural beast’s stomach for both the giant wolfman forms and the monstrous vampire manifestation.

Clarified Telekinesis trait

Added “Manifest Weaponry” Mage Trait

Added “Incredible Strength” Mage Trait

Added ability for an investigator to be a talking dog.

Changed “wannabe monster hunter” to just “monster hunter” and added a new sidebar

Rewriting large chunks of the first half of chapter 8, redefining each type of supernatural investigator, and adding a fourth category of investigator. Work in progress

Monster investigators now only require 18 investigation points instead of 21.

Removed “Is this a monster or a mage” section. This is no-longer needed now that these categories are more clearly defined.

Removed blood sacrifice from the witch’s true nature and just committed to making it be about cannibalism and about using magic–any of their magic–for petty and/or entirely selfish reasons.

Gave witches a proper weakness

Changed the name of the witch to Fairytale Witch

Moved Alternative Witch into the misc. category

Removed large chunks of chapter 8 that were either no-longer needed or had become so outdated as to be contradictory to other rules

Vampires now gain 1 additional point of Composure for every 5 Morale or Composure damage they do to their victim during an attack, to better codify how they feed on human suffering as much as the literal blood they drink.

Added the “Monsters” section of the Foreword to this chapter instead

Changed the name of the Thing From Beyond’s “Shapeshifter” trait to “Imposter Syndrome”

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

156 notes · View notes

sylusjinwoon · 8 months ago

Text

{ 182 }

saturn.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; mentions of drug use and near o-erdose; smoking; drinking; parental neglect.

{ stuck in this paradigm | don't believe in paradise | this must be what hell is like | there's got to be more, got to be more | sick of this head of mine | intrusive thoughts, they paralyze | nirvana's not as advertised | there's got to be more, been here before }

anonymous said: I have an idea I know you really like to write about a certain type of reader so you don’t need to do anything But I just adore a reader thats nice and caring but only on the outside. Someone who pretends to be ditzy and clumsy but in reality is anything but that. A wolf in sheep’s clothing basically. I’d imagine only certain people could see who reader truly was but just didn’t care or no one believed them. As for the reason reader would behave like this, I would assume it’s related to childhood trauma that lead to trust issues and consistently feeling unsafe. This would lead to them seeking to manipulate others and pretending to be someone their not to keep themselves safe. This would be a great thing to write about because reader could finally let their guard down and show their true self in front of their lover because they trust them. Whether this reader is a high ranked hunter or not, it is all your choosing.(but i will point out that society and the media can be easily manipulated. And they would love a rare “friendly” s-rank.) I could see this reader being with many characters, but you’re the writer so you can choose. As for how would this character get with another, it would depend on who you are pairing them with. For someone more introverted, they could catch readers interest for some strange reason and that could lead to reader keeping an eye on the character. For more extroverted and bold characters, the character could just see through readers disguise and be interested in reader. I know you love fluffy things so this is just an idea. I’m just a sucker for characters being healed by their significant other.

jinwoo sung felt like he was on top of the world when he managed to capture your heart.

being known as the 'sunshine hunter'; you truly lived up to your nickname as you retained your gentle and kind aura, practically radiating with positivity.

he truly admired your strength, being labeled as a rare, s-rank hunter who wasn't pompous and treated everyone as your equal. your smiles were filled with a saccharine sweetness, and the more jinwoo observed you, the more he became utterly captivated by you.

your honeyed sweetness was enough to trap him, keeping him mesmerized as his heart was settled within the palm of your hand.

so it came as no surprise when he confesses to you, leaving you the tiniest bit shocked before ultimately accepting his feelings for you.

how could jinwoo not feel like he was in heaven, being able to obtain someone as kind and sweet as you? how could he not feel lucky at the thought of being able to hold you within his arms each time he came home at night?

you held his heart and soul-

and jinwoo could only wish that you felt the same way when it came to him.

{ ... }

your life felt like it was becoming more exhausted with each smile you gave your co-workers and peers.

how could they not see your strained smile or the way the light seemed to die within your gaze as each word was forced from your parted lips?

how could they not detect the fake sweetness within your tone?

how could they not see how much you were drowning?

as you donned your hoodie and mask, wishing to avoid all fan contact while making your way home, you thought about the man you shared your apartment with.

the man you were dating...

your boyfriend-

jinwoo...

a strange sense of guilt fills you at the thought of him.

you had accepted his confession despite knowing how, deep down, he was attracted to the mask you always wore-

if he ever knew about your true self, then he would surely leave you.

growing up, you didn't have what many would call a 'happy childhood.' your mother admitted that you were an accident that never meant to happen; that when she slept with the man who would help shape you into a full human being, she got drunk and forgot to use protection.

when she found out that she was pregnant with you, she admits it to being 'too late' to have an abortion as she begrudgingly gave birth to you.

sure, during your younger years, she fed and dressed you; sent you to school when you were old enough-

but all the attention she gave you was the bare minimum.

during your teenaged years, when you could better understand just how neglectful she was, you did everything you could to make her start caring for you. during school nights, you would purposely stay out later than usual, going out with the 'bad group' of people.

you tossed aside your virginity carelessly to a mutual classmate and had your first cigarette with him (coughing all the way).

you tried your fair share of illicit drugs and nearly overdosed when you mistakenly took too much of it-

but all you received from your mother was an icy glare as she told you how much of a parasite and an attention seeking whore you were-

needless to say, the moment you were 18, you left that home and never looked back. by some miracle, when the gates began to appear all across the world, you found that you were pretty powerful and could fight these monsters during these raids.

it was thanks to the appearance of these gates that you felt less useless, your mother's neglect and hurtful words slowly morphing into the back of your mind as you swore to yourself to never reveal your true self ever again.

not wishing to be ridiculed and hated for who you truly were, you put on an intricately made façade; one that was filled with wide smiles and constant words of praise from you. you walked with confidence, (like there was not a single thing wrong with your life), with your head held high, never once revealing your exhaustion or depressed state.

and for a while, things went well, with you even being labeled as the 'sunshine hunter' as people flocked to you, adoring you with every press conference you held while asking for pictures and autographs at every chance by your fans.

you basked in the attention, greedily devouring it all as you used it as a substitute for the lack of love you received from your mother.

but lately, your persona was cracking when you managed to capture jinwoo's heart with your mask of light.

perhaps he was the one good thing in your life that you truly didn't deserve. he was everything that you weren't:

he had loving parents and a little sister that adored him;

he was powerful; far surpassing you as a hunter while being able to summon what seemed like millions of shadow soldiers-

you felt like such a damn sham for capturing his heart-

and it was tearing you apart.

what were you supposed to do when he sweetly gazed at you with his gentle grey eyes, asking you to move in with him?

how could you possibly disappoint the man who genuinely loved you?

the man that you were also genuinely falling for.

the emotions and memories were becoming too much to bear, with your steps quickening as you fought back tears. you knew that jinwoo had placed some of his soldiers within your shadow and would see you at any point and time (hence why you had your hoodie up and a mask on).

but there was only so much such flimsy coverings could do, and eventually, your face would remain bare for him. jinwoo would see the pain in your eyes, and the mask you had so carefully crafted would disintegrate into dust.

pursing your lips, you felt grateful that you arrived back at the apartment you shared with jinwoo, taking the elevators to the top floor as you angrily wiped away your tears.

you could no longer keep lying to jinwoo and the world.

you had to come clean and leave him first, admitting to him just how exhausted you were at pretending all the time.

before jinwoo ever came into your life, it was easy for you to keep up your bright and sunny persona, since the moment you came home, you were able to peel off that faux layer of your psyche while basking in who you truly were.

pessimistic.

cynical.

hard to love.

truly the exact opposite of who jinwoo was.

so while your relationship and romance was still growing, you knew it was best to cut it off while it was still in its early stages.

once you returned to the momentary sanctuary of your apartment, you tossed aside your mask and brought down your hood, taking long strides into the kitchen to grab two cans of ice-cold beer. cracking one of the aluminum cans open, you take deep swigs from it, draining it within a few gulps as you belched and tossed aside the can within the bin.

opening the second beer, you step into the bedroom and took out a suitcase, haphazardly filling it with your clothes and undergarments. you didn't care to try and make everything fit, wishing to leave before jinwoo ever came home.

getting tipsier by the minute, you drain the second beer as well, head spinning while looking down at your suitcase already half filled with your clothes. you consider opening up another beer when you felt the air shift around you.

a bored expression paints your expression, taking yet another sip from your beer when jinwoo appears behind you.

"sarang, are you alright?"

you don't respond to his term of endearment for you, choosing instead to turn your back to him as you finished the rest of your beer. already able to picture jinwoo's concerned expression as he steps closer to you, he calls out your name, ready to reach out to you when you face him and slap his hand away from you.

you refused to let the pained expression on his face fill you with guilt. "sarang-"

"don't fucking call me that!" you snarl back at him, tossing the empty can of beer to the side, not caring that it landed against the pristine floor of the bedroom. since jinwoo came home anyways, you figured you could do with just half of your clothes.

as you zip up the suitcase, you were ready to head out when jinwoo steps in front of you, preventing you from leaving. confusion was written all over his face, and he kept shaking his head at you, "what is all this? if something is wrong, or if i have done something to upset you, then you need to tell me instead of storming out."

feeling the effects of the alcohol giving you the much needed liquid courage, you let out a boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you struggled to calm down, hands clutching at your abdomen as you ignored the tears streaming down your face.

"it's not you, it's never your fault, jinwoo. no, it's always been me that was the problem."

taking advantage of your strength as an s-rank, you shoved jinwoo aside, and due to him being so caught off guard, he moves away with little resistance.

letting out a string of whispered curses, you were close to reaching the front door when jinwoo warps in front of you once more, blocking your escape. his eyes were glowing purple now, "what is going on with you-"

by now, your emotions were at a boiling point, making you shove at jinwoo's chest as his back lands against the door. hurt and anger was seen against his glowing eyes when he takes a hold of your hands, forcing you back into the apartment.

you struggle against him, trying to free your hands from his tight grip, but to no avail. jinwoo continues to gain up on you, making you step backwards as you felt the back of your legs get caught on the couch.

you land against the cushions with an audible gasp, jinwoo hovering over you as he kept you trapped against his body and the couch. your eyes weakly shone with hatred for him, but deep down, you knew you could never hate him-

you just hated the thought of losing him-

and that was enough to leave you crying, your emotions no longer able to be contained. your sobs were painful, wracking through the entirety of your form, making jinwoo's gaze soften considerably for you.

as you wallowed in your tears, jinwoo takes this chance to hold you in his embrace, using his free hand to roll your suitcase back into your shared bedroom. once jinwoo places the suitcase against the wall, he continues to let out soft coos of your name, pressing comforting kisses against your hair as he got into bed with you.

both of your forms lay down against the plush mattress, and as jinwoo kept pressing soft kisses against your skin was when your tears begin to slow. unable to help yourself, you clutch to the front of his shirt, knowing that you had to tell him the truth-

that jinwoo deserved to know the truth.

"i've been living a lie for most of my adult life."

you notice the way jinwoo stiffens in response to your words, yet still, he remains quiet, allowing you to continue.

"my childhood... and well, how i grew up in general wasn't pretty. my mom outright stated how much she despised me, a-and, i never was loved by her."

the memory of her disdain and neglect was enough to send a fresh wave of tears, but you pushed through the painful memories to continue your confession to jinwoo.

"that's why, when i was able to awaken as a hunter, i decided to never reveal my true self. i had to be a monster if my own mother couldn't love me for who i was. t-that's why, i figured it was easy to capture everyone's attention with a honey sweet personality-

but that's just not who i am... i never was overly positive with a heart of gold. i've got sharp edges around my heart, like glass from years spent feeling like i was nothing because of my mother, and i just- i can't do it anymore.

that's why you deserve someone who is truly bright and sunny... someone who isn't fake like me, someone-"

yet you weren't given the chance to finish your statement when jinwoo takes a hold of your chin, keeping it still when he presses a searing kiss against your lips. such an affectionate and intimate touch was enough to make your breath hitch in response as you automatically kissed him back.

jinwoo smiles against your lips for a brief second before pulling away from you. he frames at your face with two hands, using the pad of his thumb to caress at your features while telling you, "how could i ever think of abandoning such a pure heart like yours? and your mother truly was foolish, never realizing just how perfect and loving you were. she never deserved you, sarang, not the other way around."

his words make your eyes widen in response, "w-what?"

yet your boyfriend simply hums, holding you even closer to him as he allows your head to rest against his chest while kissing your hair, "i'm sorry, as your lover- as the man who loves you more than anything else in the world, i'm sorry for never realizing your pain.

from now on, you don't have to worry about your persona anymore. you don't need to be anything but you, my love... and i promise to accept you wholeheartedly... unconditionally."

your mind was spinning. was this really happening? was the man you had come to love really willing to accept you for who you are?

with eyes quickly filling with tears, you bury your face even deeper within his chest, "you won't hate me when i'm not smiling all the time?"

"nope."

"and... you won't get mad when i voice my anxieties and cry a bit...?"

"never." jinwoo reassures you with yet another whisper, pressing a kiss against your temple when he tells you, "from this moment on, you never have to hide your true self... for i already know that i'll love you regardless... you're my entire universe, and i can't see myself ever leaving you when you are all that i've ever wanted."

being filled with emotion, you allow your tears to freely fall, calling out jinwoo's name in a loving manner as you lean up to press a kiss against his awaiting lips, heart no longer surrounded by glass as you felt it slowly beginning to open up before pounding for the man that held you so lovingly within his embrace...

a.n. - this story was a long time coming, since it was a challenge for me to write. yet still, i hope you readers enjoyed this. and please, do listen to 'saturn' by sza. it is such a gorgeous song, and sza's vocals sound so airy and dreamy 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

209 notes · View notes

babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

Text

You Can’t Catch Me Now

After ending a FwB with Ghost, you started to date another man. Little did you know that Ghost regrets slipping through his fingers.

A/N: Your callsign is Fox.

“The months will pass, you’ll feel it all around. I’m here. I’m there. I’m everywhere. But you can’t catch me now.”

Warnings: angst, PURE angst, toxic relationships, non established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of major character death, not happy ending, mentions of childhood trauma, trauma, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You both were standing in the middle of Ghost’s room. Tears stained your cheeks as his eyes glared. You rolled your eyes as you gathered more of your belongings. “Where ya goin’?” He said harshly.

“I can’t keep doing this,” You mumbled. “I know the fucking promise or deal or whatever you want to fucking call it but I can’t.”

Ghost chuckled and shook his head. “I told you this would be a fuckin’ problem. Yet your stupidity again caught the best of you.”

You snapped your head at him. “Yet YOU let it happen. YOU call me. YOU drag me to meeting rooms. YOU made this stupid mistake.”

“Mistake? You think of this…”

“Yes.” Both of you stared for a moment. Ghost was angry yet understood why you would feel that way. You just confessed your love for him. Telling him that the sex wasn’t just sex anymore. Yet months before this you promised, you said that you could handle not caring.

Ghost wanted more of course but fear was the factor. Fear of loving someone too much and losing them. He can’t do it. He can’t go through heartbreak after heartbreak. His luck isn’t good. It never will be. So why couldn’t you subside your feelings like he could? If you couldn’t then you had to go.

“Ya too damn afraid to be alone or desperate which is which,” Ghost tried to grab the words as they left his mouth. He knew that he should have shut up when your face went blank. The sadness and anger leaving quickly. “Huh? Nothing? Figures go find someone else to get into your pants then.”

You scoffed and went towards his door, opening it. Before you closed it you mumbled. “At least I know how to feel.”

Ghost’s chest tightened immediately, you didn’t know anything of his past. You just knew the basic things of a person, so you wouldn’t know that he hid behind Ghost so Simon could be protected. He wanted to, god he would love to but he couldn’t. Fear. Fear is what held him back. He thought that this was the best thing to happen, keep you away and his feelings would follow suite.

And yet here he is, staring at you with the man you brought. It was the formal military ball held every year. One significant other and you, that was all that was invited to the ball. You looked beautiful in your red dress, your hair down, and your smile. God he will never forget that beautiful smile. He used to make you smile like that, the way you slightly would tilt your head when you laughed.

Ghost felt pure jealousy, he didn’t know of course it was. He never got jealous. Never needed to. Until now. Now his blood reeks of jealousy and anger, he is taking to Soap, who is making both him and YOU laugh. Ghost is sure the man is nice but he hates him and will hate him until the day he dies.

When you brought him over, the glare is still there. Just give a short hi before ignoring both your boyfriend and you. It burns irritation into your veins in which with your pettiness you give the same effort. The man sat between Ghost and you which made Ghost even more angrier. He shouldn’t. But he is. Throughout the dinner the team is loving your man. The man that isn’t Ghost.

“‘ll be back.” Ghost mumbles before storming to the nearest exit. He needed a cigarette take off some of the tension.

“What’s your problem?” His heart skipped, it shouldn’t have. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Just needed to smoke.” He grumbled taking in the cancerous stick.

“No it’s not that,” You scoffed walking around to have him facing you. You were angry. Why? You shouldn’t be, you have what you want. “You’ve been cold.”

Ghost chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah? And what ‘bout it?”

“He didn’t do anything to you.” You hissed.

“He did.”

This time you laughed. “What the hell does that mean Simon.”

Simon. Someone that is hiding currently having Ghost play the game. Ghost stared right at you. “He took you.”

You were dumbfounded and now very angry. “He TOOK me? He didn’t take me from you. I never belonged to you. I was just your stress relief Simon.”

Ghost scoffed. “You really felt that I was using you just for sex?”

You knew he wasn’t, the small actions that he would do. Tap your knee underneath the table during briefings. Brush his hand on your lower back to move you if he was passing by. Send texts of dumb jokes. Would always be by your side. He wasn’t. You wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it. You would drop everything.

“Was it?” You asked watching his movements, his eyes, his hands.

Ghost knew the game and he wasn’t playing it. Simon wanted to begging for the truth to leave his lips. Yet Ghost was in control. “I’m not playing ya game. I asked you.”

Your game? Before you could answer your boyfriend walked out. “Hey baby they are doing the awards.” You snapped your head over to him, gave that smile you would give to new recruits.

“Okay coming.” You said looking up at Ghost. “I’ll see you inside lieutenant.”

Ghost watched you walk away, he should have said something. He didn’t know there was a time limit. He should have learned that everyone has a time clock.

Time that had slowed. “We are pinned!” You yelled in the comms.

Ghost looked over at Price who nodded as they sprinted together. They were on some mountain in Russia. Makarov’s men pinned you and Gaz at an industrial site. Laswell found the jackpot of weapons and ammunition for Makarov’s movements. When they reached the site fire burning parts of the site. No doubt from the C4 you had. Bullets flying past everyone’s heads.

Gaz was the first to be found. “Bloody time Cap!” He yelled as he ducked behind a concrete slab.

“Where’s Fox?” Ghost asked looking around.

“She went in there to place the C4,” Gaz explained pointing to the building just a few yards away. “I tried to stop her.”

“Bollocks,” Price mumbled grabbing his comms. “Fox come in.”

It was static, making Ghost’s heart clench into nothing. “Fox com..”

“Captain Price,” Everyone’s face dropped. Makarov. “It’s interesting that you would find me here. Yet again you will not bring me to your justice.”

Ghost looked over at the building, looking for you. Wanting to see your face pop through any window. Door. Crack. Maybe you dropped your comms. “Don’t worry you haven’t left yet.” Price growled out.

“Promise you Price. I will.” Once those words left his mouth Ghost found you. On top of the roof of the building.

“Price,” Ghost said pointing towards you. Price glared following his direction, so did Gaz. “Fox.”

You had a pistol to your head with one of Makarov’s goons, that’s all he could see. “You sure you want to lose another Sargent?”

Price had no emotion but signaled for them to move forward. Ghost could get a better look of you. You were shaking your head trying to take off the duck tape. Ghost looked around there was no one else.

Your heart raced as you finally got the tape off. “Price no! It’s a tra…”

That’s when Ghost felt himself fly a few feet. Slamming into the ground, his ears ringing, his vision blurred. He looked over to see Gaz and Price getting up. Gunfire erupted. Ghost panicked, looking frantically, the building where you were on, now rubble. “No.” He whispered, grabbing his rifle.

Price grabbed his vest dragging him behind a wall. It was a minute as they returned fire. Watching as Makarov hopping on the bloody helicopter. Ghost kept shooting until the helicopter and the bullets were gone. Price panted as he looked over at the building. “Fuck.”

Ghost got up and sprinted to the rubble. He lifted and threw rubble, Gaz doing the same. Price radioing in Laswell, as he started to lift some as well. Before Price could say to fall back, Ghost say your hand. Your hand. “I got her!” He yelled.

Gaz and Price helped him lift the rubble and scrape you out. He smiled as he saw your face, he found you. He won’t let you slip through his fingers again. He will catch you. However, once pulling you out, your chest was still. Blood seeping through parts of your clothing. Nose dripping with blood.

“Love,” He whispered as he held you in his arms. You were facing him, he sat down off of his heels as he snaked his arm from under your back and lifted. “Hey come on Fox, open ya eyes.”

Price and Gaz knew, they have seen it before. Ghost did too. However, Simon was in the denial. You will open your eyes. Your beautiful eyes will look at him, give him your smile. You were fine. “Come on babygirl, you are fine ya? Fox? Please. Fox?”

Roses. Roses is what you said that were your favorite flowers. Roses. That is what was littered onto your casket. You only had your sister, so the funeral was small. Just 141, Laswell, and your sister. The boyfriend couldn’t show up, figures. Why would he? Says that it was too hard for him.

It was raining. Rain that you loved, the smell. He remembered when you danced in it, pulling him with you. Hopping on the bloody puddles. Having him laugh and act like a child that he never got to be.

Your sister talked about how you would make her smile by filling your mouth with grapes. Making it a contest. In which you did the same for him, it was the first week on the team. You were staring at him before shoving a couple of grapes in your mouth. Soap joining you, you won. Ghost sighed as he thought about how you were with Soap. You and him probably having that bloody contest again.

“It should have been you.” Your sister whispered to him as people went back to their cars. Ghost frowned looking down at her. “I mean the boyfriend.”

Ghost’s heart broke even more. “I was never good for her.” He said looking forward.

“She never thought that.” She whispered before looking up at him. “She loved you, even with the idiot, she only wanted you.” That rang through his head how you wanted him.

After that week everything that you loved would come up. Your song that you would repeat over and over, when showering. Ghost thought he heard you calling his name in the halls one night. In the bar someone looked like you, he thought that he was imagining almost went up to her. To finally snap back to see it wasn’t. Him skipping through shows and movies, landing on yours when his battery died. He watched it. After your death your dog needed a home. So he kept it, your sister couldn’t take him since she was moving to the United States. Seeing your dog always reminded him of you.

Ghost didn’t cry. Not at your funeral. Not at the signs of you. Not even when your dog did a trick only you taught him. Nothing. Until two weeks later. Never had he seen a fox in real life, not in the zoo or in their habitat. Ghost was hunched on a hill, waiting for orders to move forward. Watching the base from afar, hiding in the snow. 20 minutes went by, him still laying on the ground, scopes on. He was still until he felt something brush his leg. Making him snap his head and pulling his side arm out. When the barrel was met with a white fox, is whole body froze.

The fox was staring at him with no fear. Even sat down, staring at him, Simon felt hot tears brimming his eyes. He dropped his side arm and sobbed quietly. The fox laid close to his leg, cuddling into him. Simon tried to stop but couldn’t, he fucked up. He let you slip through his fingers. His fear outweighed his love for you.

Simon glared at the fox as it got up coming up to him brushing against him. Before placing its head on his. “I love you.” Simon whispered, the fox then left.

He watched it walk away, the fox looking one time before disappearing in the trees. Simon laid there staring in that spot. He never was able to catch you but somehow. You did. You will have always caught him. You will always be in his life. No matter where you are.

#Spotify #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost #simon ghost riley angst

417 notes · View notes

hanibalistic · 13 days ago

Text

COMMENCE! THE VAMPIRE TRIALS! | YANG JUNGWON.

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

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

word count | 19.7k+

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

note | white truffle fries are so good!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you called, “Jungwon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I going to jail?” he asked.

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

“How so?” His voice was meek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old is he?” Jungwon asked nonchalantly.

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

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

“Never shuts up about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t read fiction.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can hear the ticking sounds, Jungwon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon knew that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon also knew where you stood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were, undoubtedly, the source.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Jungwon replied with a nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he felt stupid. So stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungwon knew you lied to him about vampires sparkling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is only eighteen years old.”

“–he is only eighteen years old.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We are doomed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungwon may fall victim to that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing about being manipulative is morally upright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked in surprise, then you furrowed your brows.

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

The empty apartment felt eerie to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You murderous child! Death shall be upon you!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

116 notes · View notes